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wen-kexing-apologist · 3 days

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Episode 12: Doors!

And here we are at the end of the line. Thank you to all who continued to tag spoilers and shout out to those who were actually patient enough to wait week to week. I tried, but caved almost immediately, who would have guessed? (everyone. everyone guessed.)

I remember feeling strange watching this episode because I felt like tonally it was so off of everything else that we had been presented with. While there have always been comedic moments in the show, I felt like episode 12 really leaned in to the comedy in a way that was slightly jarring because they were still wrapping some things up. Just my opinion, I think what would have worked better for me structurally is if we took the medical stuff out, had Qian and Yuan kiss at the beginning of episode 11, Qian had balked, they have sex at the end of episode 11, and we open episode 12 with the morning after scene, and we move the time skip to when Lili gets pregnant so that isn’t twenty-three and having to give up her career ambitions. And then the more consistently comedic tone of episode 12 would have made more sense to me.

REGARDLESS, I did very much love how they handled the pregnancy reveal and the tension between the comedy and the sincerity in the scene. So I really want to talk about it.

Qian enters the house, announcing his presence and then stopping almost immediately in the doorway looking around in surprise because he very much did not expect the house to be dark and empty. He calls up the stairs after Yuan and Lili and remarks to himself “what’s going on? They asked me to get groceries.” and I do not think it is an accident that the way Qian enters and interacts with this empty space feels paternalistic, the parent calling up the stairs after their children in case they didn’t hear them the first time.

all gifs in this analysis done by the phenomenal, the talented @wanderlust-in-my-soul

He looks down at the table, and you can see the moment the sonogram photos catches his eye with the urgency in his movement to get all the bags he’s carrying off of him so he can pick the photo up. He studies the photo, and you can see the internal monologue on Chris’ face as Qian fully clues in to what he’s seeing and what it means. Mouth slightly agape, eyes slightly widening, but moving around in time with his thoughts. And initially I laughed at this moment because I thought that everyone knew Qian’s reaction would be rough and had fled the house to give him some time to cool off.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and heads up the stairs while dialing Yuan so that he’s killing two birds with one stone. It is notable to me, the decisions they make in the direction of this scene because despite Qian already having figured out that that sonogram is likely Lili’s, it is not Lili that he seeks out to deal with it. It is Yuan. Because when he heads up the stairs he’s also not walking up to Lili’s door, he stops and looks at Yuan’s.

But Lili is hiding in there, because misdirection to throw Qian off his rhythm seemed like the best way to interrupt any building emotions. Yuan hears Qian’s footsteps stop and comes out of Lili’s room before Qian has a chance to knock or flat out enter Yuan’s room. This is all around the strategic move. They are going to have to talk about it with Qian eventually, so it might as well be now, and Qian historically has a much different reaction to Yuan than he does with the rest of his little family, so they are sending in the big guns first, to try to get ahead of the reaction they expect from Qian. If Yuan knows and can calm him down, maybe the conversation will go a bit smoother.

I love that it cuts immediately to a shot of Lili pressed up against Yuan’s door, listening intently so she can analyze the situation and determine when it might be best to make her presence known. “Why were you in Xiao Bao’s room?” Lili hears Qian ask through the door. “What’s the meaning of this?” we cut back to the hallway, where Qian is, rather calmly showing the sonogram photo to Yuan.

So far, Qian is being quite cool about this. No big emotions, no yelling about the photo. Yuan sucks in a deep breath, as he prepares himself to deliver the news. “You saw it.” he says, as if this is something Qian stumbled upon rather than something they all intentionally left for him to find. “Well…” he tries, Yuan tries to start explaining, but there is some hesitation in his voice. Not out of fear, but just because he doesn’t quite have the right words to say what needs to be said. And he isn’t meeting Qian’s eye.

Lili steps out of Yuan’s room, before Yuan has a chance to get the words out. Which I appreciate, I don’t think Yuan should be the one to tell Qian that Lili is pregnant. Qian initially turns his head towards the movement and then as Lili steps out fully Qian slowly turns his entire body towards his sister, softening his body language as he goes. The hand holding the sonogram photo drops to his side, the hand holding his cellphone moves, fingers curled lightly, to put his phone in his pocket.

“You…you’re going to be an uncle.” Lili says in a quiet voice, and initially she cannot look at Qian. When she tries to start the sentence, she is looking at the ground, and it is only as she gets about halfway through the announcement that she finally casts her eyes upward to look at Qian. Neither Yuan nor Lili brave enough to Say The Thing aloud if they have to look at Qian, his presence is known but cannot be initially acknowledged if they are going to be brave enough to tell him this. They saw what happened when he found out San Pang was dating his sister, what would he do when he found out San Pang had gotten his little sister pregnant?

Qian casts his eyes downward, towards the photo in his hand, then back up and to the side, away from Lili’s face taking in a big breath and giving himself the time he needs to process his feelings and find the appropriate reaction. Because there is no way he doesn’t know why Yuan and Lili were afraid to tell him about this, and there is no way he wants to do that to his sister. Lili is dissociating a little bit, staring off into a middle ground, before she hands her head again. We see how tense Qian is in that moment, his back is ramrod straight, his hands are curled in to light fists, blinking a ton as he takes in a breath, Yuan in the background looks between his brother and his sister, holding his breath because he doesn’t know what is going to happen, and standing in such a way that he would actually be able to grab Qian before he could notice if needed.

And then he shakes his head, quieting all the parts of himself that want to be angry about this and his lips turn up in a tearful smile as he reaches out to pull his sister in to a hug. Yuan collapses against the wall with a huge sigh of relief. Over Lili’s shoulder we see Qian bite his lip like he’s trying not to cry as he slides a hand upward to cup Lili’s head, patting her. Lili closes her eyes in to the hug, and Qian doesn’t let go. Instead he deepens the hug by resting his head on her shoulder. And when he does let go he looks at her almost immediately and rubs her arms briefly trying to comfort her. Lili is already looking at him before he’s fully pulled back from the hug.

“Xiao Bao,” he begins and oh my god y’all Tammy is able to make the smallest little sound in the back of her throat as Lili’s response. That shit killed me, cause Lili knows she’s safe with her brothers there, but she’s still trying not to cry about the pregnancy news or about the gentle way that Qian is treating her here. “Let me ask you something. Are you ready for this?” his forehead knits together as he asks the question “huh?”

Lili feels so small the way that she nods her head and gives another little sound in agreement, she’s stopped looking at Qian again, casting her eyes downward.

“Have you thought this through?”

“Mm.” she confirms again, still not saying anything.

“Didn’t you want to be a model? What are you going to do about it if you have a baby?” and while Qian has been able to have a very successful career, it is the beginning of a reminder of Qian’s positionality in this story, Qian has given up a lot in or to care for his baby sister.

Lili does not give him an answer.

“Having a baby is not easy. It’s a lifetime commitment.” and this is where my heart started to twist, because this is Qian speaking from experience, as a child who took on too much responsibility far too early in his life. Qian for all intents and purposes was a teen parent, who had not parents to help him ease the burden of raising his little sister much less when he adopted Yuan and gave himself another mouth to feed. Lili is only 23, she is so young, she has her whole life ahead of her and here she is pregnant and willing to put aside her dreams in order to have and raise this baby.

Like Qian was.

“You have to think it through.”

Tammy makes these little jaw movements when Lili nods again, confirms with another little “mm.” that she knows this, that she has and is thinking it through.

Yuan sighs again, he’s just been watching the back of Qian’s head and sighing in relief when he knows that they are through a part of the conversation where Qian might have been set off.

Qian looks down, closes his eyes for a second, this is the book end to his question of his sister. He needs to take just a second to collect himself a little more and transition in to the other important questions.

“What about San Pang? Is he going to take responsibility?”

“Yes,” Lili finally speaks, her voice thick with tears. For me, it is important that she actually speaks here, because everyone in that hallway knows what Qian’s initial reaction to finding out that San Pang was fucking his sister was, so Lili needs to make it absolutely clear to Qian that San Pang is taking responsibility.

Qian moves his jaw a little bit in a way that feel accepting of that answer, which is coupled with a tiny head nod from Qian as well.

“Will he marry you?”

“Yes.” Lili says even closer to the brink of tears.

I love this little moment, because both Qian and Yuan have a very similar response to this answer, they are out of sync with it, but they both nod in almost the same way. Because it is important to remind the audience that these are Lili’s brothers (Qian and Yuan), not Lili’s dad (Qian) and Lili’s brother (Yuan).

Qian’s jaw moves around a lot after this answer, because he is taking in a shaky breath. He’s about to cry and you can hear it in the way he asks “Will he take care of you for life?”

“Yes.”

Qian takes in the world’s biggest and most important breath and finally stops looking at his sister, Lili has given him every single answer he has needed to hear in order to make himself be okay with the fact that she is pregnant.

This is such an interesting scene for me because I think it perfectly encapsulates Qian’s role in the family. The way they set this scene up positions Qian as the parent learning that their child is pregnant from how Qian enters the home, to the questions that he asks Lili, to the warnings that he gives her about how difficult it is to raise a child. But the brotherliness of things is there as well, we are reminded he’s Lili’s brother when she says he’ll be an uncle, Lili’s little vocal inflections, the way Lili nods her head, the way she engages with Qian’s hug all make her feel small to me. A reminder that this is Qian’s little sister.

And that distinction is cemented in the next part of this scene.

“Ge.” Lili says, and Qian turns back to look at her, so that she knows he is fully and wholly engaged in this conversation with her. “Promise me. Promise me you won’t be mad at San Pang.”

Qian swallows hard. Qian and Yuan take in a sharp breath at exactly the same time when she says it. He casts his eyes down, breathes out, swallows hard again, and then looks back up at his sister.

“Alright. I promise.”

Yuan’s entire body relaxes, that boy has been on alert this entire conversation, and it is only when Qian promises Lili that he won’t be mad that Yuan is finally able to breathe normally again. Placing a hand on Qian’s shoulder and giving it a supportive and grateful squeeze.

AND THEN MY FAVORITE PART HAPPENS

“You…you promised.” San Pang says exiting Qian’s fucking room. The disrespect. True best friend behavior.

What I love about this moment from Chris’ perspective is the face that he makes at the end of his promise to Lili is exactly the same as the face he is making when San Pang makes his presence known. But there is something that shifts somewhere in the way that he stares, in the setting of his jaw where the rage is so so visible on him.

“You won’t be mad at me.” A sharp intake of breath from Qian to that line, and then he hands Lili her sonogram photo, at which point San Pang should really have started running because absolutely nothing good could come of WEI QIAN having both his hands free. San Pang tries to stay in the support camp with the rest of them, patting Qian on the back in almost exactly the same place as where Yuan is holding his shoulder and smiling like a doofus. “You’re going to be an uncle.”

Man read the room, your bestie has taken his sister’s hands gently in his own and has started to move them up to her ears. RUN! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!

Qian sets his jaw and before anyone has a chance to react he turns and lunges for San Pang’s throat with his bare hands. As I said, this show has (mostly) been successful at managing the balance between comedy and drama, and it is really nice to have a little moment of reprieve from the emotionally intense conversation between Qian and Lili with a little attempted murder in a moment that must have been very very fun for the actors to film.

Yuan wrangles Qian downstairs and calms him down and eventually Lili and San Pang make their way downstairs as well, with Lili coming to kneel at Qian’s feet. I am not culturally competent enough to talk about the significance of the kneeling, so I won’t. But I will talk about the conversation that Qian and Lili have.

“You raised me.” Lili says, still kneeling, still not making eye contact with Qian despite the fact that his eyes are trained on her. She worries her lip for a split second, looks him in the eye, and continues “Normally, you are my big brother.”

The camera cuts to Qian’s face “You’re like a father when you provide for this family. You’re like a mother when you nag.”

Qian is the one to break eye contact this time, sucking in a breath, and looking around aimlessly for a second as the power and weight of Lili’s words hit him. Qian looks back to his sister and smiles softly, “Get up and talk, OK?” he raises his eyebrows in a question “Hmm?” And he is so soft with her, this scene nearly brought me to tears because this is the first time Qian is hearing someone say this to his face.

Yuan has spent so much of his time in his relationship with Qian acknowledging that Qian has been taking care of Lili and him, but is always following that up with a plea for Qian to understand that he doesn’t have to do that anymore. But Lili isn’t trying to change the nature of her relationship to Qian, and we as an audience already saw her acknowledging everything that Qian has done, all that he has suffered, but she said those things about Qian and not to Qian. So this is the first time that Qian is hearing how his sister regards him in the context of her upbringing.

“Your hair is all messed up from kneeling,” Qian says, and tries to flatten the stray hairs of her bangs in such a tender act of love and care and gentleness. Qian is capable of not being mad, but he just needs some processing time. San Pang showing up immediately was not their smartest move because it didn’t give Qian time to process. But Qian has vented his frustrations now and he is capable of being calm and caring.

(^this little hair fixing moment is my favorite of the entire episode by the way.)

This is a story about Qian and Yuan, and as such we rarely get to see interactions between Qian and Lili. I am glad a moment like this exists because I do think it is important to establish that Qian has always and will always care for Lili in the biggest and the smallest of ways.

“Xiao Bao, I’m not against you.” He takes a long pause, his breath goes shaky. “It hurts me to think about it,” his nostrils flare “and I can’t bear to see you go through that. You’re too young. You’re only 23.” Such a heartbreaking line when you think about how Qian was roughly ten years younger than that when he started caring for Lili by himself. Qian’s voice starts to break. “You still have a lot to do, dreams to follow, and places you want to go. Don’t you?” Qian asks, and throughout that entire sentence, Lili is nodding softly, once again refusing eye contact.

She nods again, a confirmation that she does have things she wants to do, aspirations she wants to follow, places she wants to go.

“That’s why I’m afraid.” Another pause “I’m afraid you’ll end up like our mother.”

Let’s stop here for a second to acknowledge that Qian is using his words, using them well, and actually being vulnerable with his sister here. I appreciate this parallel to the alleyway scene in Episode 11 where Qian admits to Yuan that he is worried about turning into his mother. “Getting pregnant, then getting married, and leading an unhappy life.”

Camera cuts to a close up of Lili’s face, as she takes in a big breath and swallows hard. “Ge,” she looks Qian in the eye now “because of you, I’ve always been well-protected.” She beckons San Pang over. “But because of San Pang, I’ve learned that in this world, there are people who are willing to wholeheartedly care for you besides family.” cut to Zhiyuan “Just like Zhiyuan does for you.”

I don’t want to break down the body language of that part of the scene because that isn’t where my focus was. My focus was on Lili’s lines. In the acknowledgement that Qian has done so much for her, at the acknowledgement that Qian has protected her. While I have my qualms about the pregnancy plotline, especially because it is not in the original novel. I do have to say that I think it serves as this beautiful point of symbolism.

Because Qian took on so much burden to keep his sister, his family safe, Lili is not afraid of being a parent. Because she had a really good example in front of her for her entire life. It hasn’t been perfect, but Qian has played the role of father, mother, and brother to Lili and to Yuan for a significant portion of their lives. Qian may be afraid of Lili turning in to their mother, but that is because he is not able to see the forest through the trees, he is not able to see that there is nothing to worry about because Lili had strong role models, incredible support, lots of love.

Lili is ready to be a parent because of Qian. Qian broke the cycle of violence that they were born in to and as such this baby will be born with so so so much love and support in their life. And that is just so touching to me. The idea that after all this time, after over a decade of Qian holding the world on his shoulders, after over a decade of the pain, the debt, the fuckload of work, Qian has succeeded in protecting his sister from the horrors of the world, and broken the cycle of trauma for the next generation.

And I really hope that Qian knows that.

#unknown #unknown the series #unknown the series analysis #unknown series #unknown the series meta #unknown the series ep 12

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phantomgrimalkin · 3 days

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@moonwatermicrofics May 4, Prompt: Animagus

Words: 637, Rating: M

When Regulus had befriended the local werewolf, he never would have imagined that he'd have the chance to spend the full moon with him. But, of course, Regulus’s reckless and clever brother had figured out that becoming an animagus would allow you to spend the full moons with him safely.

It had taken years before Remus trusted Regulus enough to share that secret, and Regulus had immediately dedicated himself to becoming an animagus as well. His form, a panther, was well suited. Just larger than the wolf, he could safely play and keep Moony out of trouble.

One thing he had not expected was the difference in how the wolf interacted with him. Remus was reserved and conscientious. Moony was affectionate and physical, and seemed to have a particular fondness for the panther's throat.

At first this had been slightly worrisome, but it was quickly obvious that even when Moony put his teeth on the panther's throat, there was no malice intended. But he spent a great deal of the night nuzzling and licking it and Regulus could not help but wonder if Remus had similar desires.

They'd been dancing around each other, or so Regulus hoped, for as long as they'd been friends.

Regulus decided to test this theory with a soft, taupe jumper that looked very much like one Remus owned. He stretched the neck of it out even more, positioning it so it left one side of his neck and nearly all of his shoulder fully exposed, milky skin. His short curls didn't hide it, and he ruffled them a little, making them that little bit more wild that he was pretty sure Remus responded to.

That afternoon, Remus came over to Regulus’s to hang out, which was something that happened quite frequently. As soon as Regulus opened the door, Remus’s breath hitched and his eyes fixated on the exposed skin, but he immediately tried to cover that up and looked away.

“See something you like?” Regulus purred, pulling the door open and letting him step inside.

“I– I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I'm sorry,” Remus deflected as he stepped inside and toed his shoes off, which was not a ‘no’.

Regulus smirked and leaned towards him, “I never said you made me uncomfortable. I asked if you saw something you like.”

“I– Reg– What are you doing?” Remus asked, his voice slightly strangled.

“Because I think you want to put your lips here,” he brushed his fingers from his jaw and along his shoulder and Remus initially followed the motion, then caught himself and looked away, “and I want you to.”

“You do?” Remus asked, eyeing him warily.

Regulus bit his lip and nodded, “Mhm.”

“Fuck,” Remus hissed, crossing the short distance to nuzzle into the crook of Regulus’s neck, placing open mouth kisses and gentle nips.

“Hnnngh, yes, fuck. Mark me, Remmy,” Regulus encouraged, shivering at the thought of bruises blooming under Remus’s lips.

Remus growled, his teeth running along the sensitive skin of Regulus’s throat, “Really? You want me to leave marks? Claim you? Want everyone to know you're mine?”

“O-oh, fuck, yes, Remus, I want to be yours.”

“Yeah?” Remus asked, his voice going soft. He placed one last gentle kiss on Regulus’s neck then pulled back to look him in the eyes, “ Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

Regulus looked up at Remus through his lashes, feeling suddenly shy despite his earlier display, “You want me to be?”

“Yeah,” Remus said with a warm smile, “I really do.” “Good. Boyfriends, then,” Regulus said, placing his hands on Remus’s stubble rough cheeks and kissing him. Remus wrapped his arms around Regulus and deepened the kiss, pressing into his mouth hungrily. Regulus pulled back with a grin, “Now bite my fucking neck and fuck me into the mattress.”

#remus lupin #harry potter fanfiction #marauders #regulus black #moonwater #regulus & remus #remus x regulus #regulus x remus #getting together #first kiss #moonseeker

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fairyyobrien · 2 days

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Avoided Love

Heya this will be my first Stiles imagine. Hopefully it doesn’t suck lol. If y’all like it please reblog it or give me a follow or not. If anyone wants to request an idea please feel more than welcome to! Anywaysss…

(This takes place in Season 3b. Void Stiles x reader) *no major warnings just be prepared to be turned on by badass stiles* (make out sesh)

You wake up to a loud thump next to your bed. You rub your eyes and quickly sit up. Turning your head you notice a familiar face.. “stiles” you whisper.

“Hello love” he leans down and caresses your cheek in his hand. “What the hell are you doing here.. it’s 3:30” you look up at the time on your clock. You glance back at him examining his features.. he looks off, dark bags circle under his eyes.. his skin is extra pale and his amber eyes are a darker shade than usual even under the fluorescent lamp on your nightstand.

“You really are a beautiful little thing” he says moving a strand of your hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear. Your cheeks turn a dark shade of pink. You had always had feelings for Stiles since you’ve known him, which had been since you two were in the 6th grade. You never acted on it because he seemed to always been drawn to Lydia Martin.. what you didn’t know was that he was drawn to you more.

“W-what.. are you feeling okay Stiles?” you ask trying to ignore the words that just rolled off his tongue. You felt like you were dreaming, on cloud 9.

“I feel… insatiable” he whispered leaning even closer now, you swore you felt a chill run down your spine. “I want to kiss you” he whispered again pulling you out of your thoughts. “Let me kiss you love..” he cups your face with both hands looking deep into your eyes. “O-okay” you whisper leaning in. He smirks. His lips are soft but the kiss feels a bit rough. He moves past your lips to your cheek, then to your jaw, then down to your neck. At this point his kisses have gotten rougher. You moan in response and he smirks against your skin once again. Your hands run through his hair while he kisses down to your chest.

You both stop dead in your tracks when you get a phone call. You quickly pick up the phone “sorry it’s just Scott..” you whisper. You pick it up slightly worried and confused. You’re now standing up at the end of your bed. “Hey. Is everything okay..?” you whisper slightly panicking just like you do everytime one of the pack members called you at this hour.

“Y/N are you alone right now”

“please tell me you’re alone” he panics. “U-um no stiles is here..” you look up at him. He’s staring right back at you smirking for the third time.

“Okay Y/N you need to get away from him. That’s not Stiles! He’s possessed by an evil spirit. I will explain everything once I get there. Just whatever you do Y/N be careful and don’t let him trick you. I’ll be there as soon as I can” He quickly hangs up and you turn around, the familiar face gone out of sight.

You sit at the edge of your bed confused and frightened. You shake and touch your lips, they feel dry and ice cold. You just made out with stiles for the first time.. except it wasn’t really stiles.

Sorry if this was short but I’m honestly proud of it! Let me know if y’all want me to make a second part I kinda feel like it needs one.

#stiles stilinski #teen wolf stiles #stiles stilinski imagine #void stiles #stiles x reader #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf imagine #void stiles imagine #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brian imagine #dylan o'brian x reader

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kiwi-cult · 2 days

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PARSELSCRIPT!!

Hi. This is mostly for the people from Discord but tadah! I'm finally making that Tumblr post I've been talking about for months.

(Warning this will probably be very chaotic)

To anyone new who sees this: me and some friends made an alphabet for Parseltongue from Harry Potter, aka Parselscript. I'll take you on a little journey to explain my process and give you some tips, should you want to start writing it.

Disclaimer: I wanted to make this script usable for the writer I made it for (Isalise loml) so it's less of an actual language and more just some characters to represent the Latin (or ‘English’) letters. Like a cipher. It is not realistic. If I made this realistic I'd have to add all sorts of things to indicate body language and smell etc and also have to figure out what sounds Parseltongue actually has etcetera etcetera. No.

Alright.

It all started when we started talking about Parselscript in a Discord server and I asked my friend Ava to visualise the script because she seemed to have a clear vision of it, so I could use it to go from there.

That's how we got this.

I think we all wanted to go with something flowery for some reason, so we did.

After this I just messed around with brushes and shapes in Procreate for a while, tweaking things and trying to make it more writeable. I ended up with something like this (still a rough draft).

It may look a bit like random squiggles at first, and it kinda was at this point. As you can see there's also a lot of added dots and lines, which can be a bit hard to remember and I see you wondering what it looks like without them.

Well here it is.

I showed this to the people I brainstormed with in Discord and we decided to go with the more complicated version because it looks better lol.

This is one of the final versions.

It says: "Hello, my name is Kiwi Cult. I made this script after reading a fanfic called Terrible, But Great written by Isalise the loml on Archive Of Our Own."

Now, to talk about some of the (boring) logistics.

It is read from left to right, top to bottom.

Every separate combination of squiggles you see above is a separate word. Every word is made up of a starting character, one or more letter characters and an ending character.

The very first character you see in the top left corner, with the three petal looking thingies, is a silent starting character that indicates the start of a sentence. Not word: sentence. The end of the character, that little circle thingy, is a comma. So, the first combination says: "Hello,".

Then, the second combination starts with a kind of hook going down and right. This is also a silent character and more meant as an interpunction, that's why you don't pronounce it. It's kind of just a way to start the word when there isn't anything special about it (aka it's not the start of a sentence, a name, an exclamation or a question. But every character is special in its own right🥲). The same kind of hook can be found at the bottom of the combination, except going up. It has the same use, basically just a way to end the word when there isn't anything special about it. Now, you might ask: why does it go right and not left?

We talked about this a while, because I wanted the direction to have some kind of meaning. We wondered about gender, tone, blah blah all kinds of complicated things but in the end I just wanted this script to be writable so I chose to have proficient writers in Parseltongue make their hooks go left and beginners have their hooks go right.

Now, you might notice that I end my words with a hook going right. That is because I don't see myself as a pro in writing in Parselscript okay? It's hard!😭💀

Now, other than the character indicating the start of a sentence, the circle, and the simple hook, there are a few other characters to start or end a combination (don't worry I'll show them all to you at the end, you won't have to use your imagination for long).

We have a character to indicate a name. Now, the rule is: name indicator over start of sentence indicator. So, if you start a sentence with a name, you'll use the symbol to indicate a name, NOT BOTH. (That's not even possible but I don't even want to see you try and butcher my child).

There is a character to indicate a sentence that would usually be followed by an exclamation mark (!), but at the start of the sentence. Then you’d end the exclamated sentence with a period.

The same goes for a question mark (?): put it at the start of a question, not the end. Again, it wouldn't even be possible to use it at the end of a combination but I DON'T EVEN WANNA SEE YOU TRY.

Finally we have a period (.), which looks a bit like a flower with four petals. You do use this one at the end of a word, and it is always followed by a start of sentence indicator or a name indicator. I know people are rejecting capitals these days in their typing but I don't wanna see it. If you start a word after a period with a hook I will find you.

So, to put it all next to each other, the symbols we have are: -start of sentence indicator -name indicator -exclamation mark (!) -question mark (?) -period (.) -hook (direction depends on efficiency) -comma (,) (direction depends on efficiency)

I didn't make adjusted characters to indicate a capital letter like we do in the Latin alphabet, meaning that the only things you can kind of 'capitalise' are the start of a sentence and the start of a name.

It is also slightly phonetic. Emphasis on slightly. I made separate characters for almost all characters in the Latin alphabet, so you can just write your word normally with Parselscript characters. The only difference is that I made only one character for the 'f/v' sounds and that there is no 'c' character. If a word has a 'c' in it, you'll have to use the character for a 'k' or an 's'. Also a ‘q’ can be made with ‘k’ and ‘w’ etc.

A few examples: -character=karakter -parselscript=parselskript -crazy=krazy -science=siense

-quiz=kwuiz

I know it looks a bit confusing, but I trust you guys' ability to read context clues and figure out what someone means when you try to decipher Parselscript.

Now, for a word like 'phonetic' or 'decipher' I don't really care whether you use the separate characters for 'p' and 'h' or just the one for the 'f/v' sound. You do you.

I also don’t use any double letters because they basically sound the same and it looks ugly but if you want to use double symbols feel free.

I also made some numbers that do not look like they fit with the rest of the script but I promise you that's just because you're not used to it yet. Our own numbers don't belong with our alphabet either because we nicked them from the Arabs (I think, don't quote me on this) but we don’t notice that either.

Tadah. (Yes I know it’s out of order I told you this was gonna be chaotic af)

Other than that, feel free to ask me questions if I've forgotten anything or if you're wondering about anything. I can't guarantee that I have a good answer because I might not even have thought about it myself, but I can always try to come up with something. I am one person, I'm afraid I haven't been able to take everything about a script into consideration.

Now, without further ado; here is the key.

No, your eyes didn't deceive you: there are two versions. The first has a bit more loose squiggles than the second one. I realised that when I was writing physically, the second version was much nicer to write, so it is kind of like Simplified Parselscript. I haven't decided yet if I'm gonna put some lore behind it or not yet. But I included the og one if you're a tryhard and wanna take it on.

Now, if you're gonna start writing it yourself, here is the stroke order.

I tried to make it as clear as possible but please ask me if you're confused on anything.

Red is the starting point of the whole symbol, the arrows indicate the direction to go in, x marks the start of the small extra's.

Now, I'd also recommend writing on some type of paper with vertical lines like this if you're gonna do it physically.

You can just turn a paper with normal, horizontal lines a quarter to get vertical lines. Also, do NOT write in between the lines. They are meant to help you keep the start and ending on the same line so you don't start going into crazy directions while writing. So, start your sentence symbol or hook or whatever in the middle of the line and try to keep coming back to that vertical line after every letter. As you gain more proficiency you'll probably go straight into the next letter without going back to the line all the time but I think this is a good starting point.

I also recommend writing with a fountain pen or something else that flows well because it’s easier to write that way.

Here is another rough draft I made on physical paper to get a feel for it. As you can see this draft had a lot more different starting characters and ending characters so just ignore that. Hope this motivates you a bit or smth.

Lmk if you want me to post a video of me writing in this Parselscript.

Also please let me know if you know of someone else who's also made a Parselscript because I tried to look for it on Tumblr and Twitter etc but I couldn't find anything.

I also feel like there’s a big mistake I made that I realised the last time I worked on this script but I’ve forgotten it now so if you find out please comment or dm or anything💀

Also feel free to use in your own fic, tho a little tiny shoutout in the a/n would be nice :) I’m @/kiwi_cult on Ao3, @/slvtr_ on Wattpad, @/kiwi cult on ff.net, @/slvtr.1 on TikTok and @/.slvtr on Discord.

Credits:

@natis-balamnimaja @asterialvia and @/zee (who unfortunately left the server and I don't know the Tumblr @ of) for brainstorming with me and @isalisewrites for inspiring us and making the server we discussed this in. Check out her profile and her Tomarry time travel fic if you have taste.

Okay bye :) tell me if I forgot anything.

🥝

#fanfiction #isalise #parselscript #parseltongue #hogwarts #harry potter #language stuff #alphabet #script #tom riddle #worldbuilding #ao3

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godihatethiswebsite · 2 days

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You know what? I blame @dragonnarrative-writes for all of this. It's all their fault for poking this part of my brain in the first place even though I was originally just trying to poke theirs ><

Mummy AU part three I guess?

There were only so many places you'd been allowed to go growing up even with a chaperone at your side. Mother brought you up the way any well respected young lady should be, and to be honest you felt much more at home in your skirts and dresses working on your drawings in the parlor than you did climbing over the fence in your backyard like your cousin convinced you to. But your father worried Kyle was improperly rubbing off on you and wanted to find you something to fill your head with where you could still be kept an eye on.

His solution: the Museum of Antiquities in Cairo.

After all, how much trouble could you get into reading about dead guys? At least they wouldn't be trying to chase your skirts as you got older.

Father owned his own shipping company that dealt with the transport of goods and wares, ancient artifacts included. He knew the people who were in charge of the facilities and thought this could be a replacement for the adventures your cousin liked to try to drag you on.

The beautifully painted sarcophagi drew in your imagination like a moth to a flame, chiseled sculptures and pillars depicting ancient beings far different than the god you'd been brought up believing in. And weren't you just the most well behaved little girl when your father brought you along on his business trips. All he had to do was put a book in your hand about the Old Kingdom and you'd stay seated right where he left you until it was time to leave. The drawings in your room turned less from pretty landscapes and fresh vases to imitations of the reliefs you'd seen from photographs of burial chamber walls. Your mother was slightly alarmed at first, but once she saw you still happily keeping up with your piano lessons and needlework she quickly gave in.

Once you were old enough to walk around the city by yourself, you stopped by the museum at least once a week just to spend hours wandering the halls - sometimes more if you noticed a new shipment of wares showing up on your father's ledgers that week slated for delivery. Always so eager to witness the unveiling of new items even if they'd never get put on display. One of the perks of growing up around the loading docks and being a sweet well mannered child to the workers.

You didn't work at the museum with Dr. John Price, but you'd frequented there an awful lot to have come to decent terms with the man. Always gruff, a bit rough around the edges, but boy did he have a mind for antiquities.

He wasn't always the easiest man to deal with; someone who didn't have time for the stupidity that came with being around the uneducated masses during business hours. He'd been working there in some capacity or another since you'd first became a patron, though back in those days he'd been a lot less rigid.

At one point you'd been barred from looking at a book that your father deemed had too much suggestive material in it - it was a tome about Tawaret, goddess of childbirth and fertility - and sent over to your favorite reading chair with something about Pepi II instead. Try as you might you couldn't get into it, mind still lingering on the forbidden subject which was just the latest in your stream of mythology research. You'd been half-heartedly flipping through the pages when a shadow passed you by and casually deposited the desired reading material in your lap, not even bothering to glance your way as he kept moving and turned down another aisle. He was clean shaven back then, but he'd made an impression as a kindred spirit willing to look the other way.

Now almost twenty years later you did your best to stay out of his way and disturb him as little as possible, but every so often you'd be fortunate enough to stumble upon him on a good day where he'd indulge you on certain topics of conversation that flowed smoothly, allowing you to see the lingering passionate twinkle of a younger man hiding behind eyes so full of wisdom and tired experience.

(And if you happened by chance to occassionally pass by a tall, large, tank of a dark robed man waiting patiently for his turn to have an audience with Price on your way out of his office - following you with his deep brown eyes and a cloth cover shrouding the lower half of his face from view - you kept your gaze to the floor and gave him a wide respectful berth, only risking a glance back at the individual long enough to see the broad planes of his back disappearing behind Price's door with a click of the lock)

#soap x reader #mummy au #cod #call of duty #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #john price #john soap mactavish #dragon pulled a reverse uno on me #I'm just a lurker what's happening to me

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bullet-prooflove · 2 days

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The Last Time: Jack Reacher x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @castle-of-ruin @baconeggndcheez @alishageorgia @hal3ynicol3

It’s past midnight and the stars are twinkling up in the sky as you and Reacher lie on a sleeping bag in the woodland near your house staring up on them. The trees rustle in the light breeze, the sounds of the forest a peaceful rendition.

Reacher’s fingers threaded through yours. The flames from the campfire illuminating his features, highlighting the freckles on his face. He’s more weather worn than you last time you saw him, his cheeks are grizzled, his skin a little more tan. He usually stops by every couple of months, shares your bed, walks your dog before he takes off again. He’s a nomad at heart, he always has been.

“This has to be the last time.” He says finally, swallowing hard against the well of emotion in his chest. “I can’t keep coming back here.”

You don’t say anything, not when he squeezes your hand just that little bit tighter or when he turns his head to survey your expression.

You know what the problem is.

Reacher is starting to settle.

His visits have been more frequent over the past year, he stays for longer, starts keeping things at your place. Nothing more than a couple of pairs of boxers and a t-shirt but they’re still there, still his. It’s the biggest commitment he’s made since retiring from the Army.

The man you first met arrived with only the clothes on his back, he didn’t need anything else and now he has a drawer in your dresser and his own mug in your cupboard.

“Is that why you insisted we camp underneath the stars tonight?” You ask him quietly. “You wanted it to be special?”

“Something like that.” He tells you, his voice a little rough. The time you have together is incredibly meaningful to him, you’re the closest he’s been to another person in years which is why he has to let you go. He can’t afford to have any attachments, not with the way he attracts trouble.

He rolls onto his side, his thumb ghosting over the apple of your cheek as he looks into your eyes.

“I want you to remember me.” He whispers, his lips brushing over yours. “Remember all the good we had together.”

He makes love to you that night, under the stars, the light of the campfire bathing your bare skin as he drives you to the pinnacle of release before he pulls you away again. He wants to keep you in freefall for as long as possible, to prolong the experience because Reacher, he isn’t ready for this to end, no matter what he tells you.

Your thighs clench around his hips, drawing him deeper. You can feel that climax building inside of you again, each wave washing over you, drowning you. Reacher’s hand comes to rest on your jaw, guiding your mouth back to his. He needs you to be immersed in him when you come, consumed completely because this is the memory he wants to leave you with, him loving you with everything he has.

He feels the exact moment the ecstasy hits you, you grip his dick so fucking tightly that you take him over the edge with you, his release spilling deep inside. He still doesn’t stop, he fucks it deeper, kissing you, touching you because Reacher, he’s not ready for it to be over, not yet.

“Jack…” You say quietly, your fingers threading through his hair as he buries his face into the curve of your throat. “This doesn’t have to be goodbye.”

But it does because Reacher, he can’t the thought of losing you and that’s exactly what’s going to happen if he stays.

Reacher? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#jack reacher #alan ritchson #reacher #jack reacher x reader #reacher x reader #lee child #reacher show #jack reacher fanfic

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yoonivy · 22 hours

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my house of stone, your ivy grows (and now i’m covered in you); part 2.

aemond targaryen x fem!reader

genre. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, drama, angst, fluff, eventual smut. it’s a y/n fic but no use of y/n. heavily inspired by taylor swift’s ‘ivy’.

When a fierce blizzard ravages the North, a certain dragon rider gets caught up in it and crashes onto Bear Island.

And right to you, the youngest daughter of House Mormont.

warnings. no warnings yet!

wc. 9k+ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09

“Well look who finally decided to show up!”

Forrest leans on the wooden gate of the training yard, a smirk on his face as he watches the two approaching adolescents. Braeden and Jorah join him as well, curious as to what took you so long. You pout at their obvious stares, amused as they glance between you and the boy by your side.

“I had to ask Maester Garland if Aemond is well enough to walk around outside,” you let them know, now on the other side of the gate.

Braeden hums, turning to Aemond with a friendly smile. “Mornin’ Little Prince.”

Aemond politely greets all your brothers a good morning as well.

“I like the new look, Ae,” Forrest compliments, pointing at his own eye when Aemond turns to him.

“Whoa, it’s just like Butcher Pate’s!” Jorah exclaims excitedly. He put his thumb up out, adding with a resolute nod, “It looks great!”

You and your two other brothers snicker at Jorah’s usual strangeness, while Aemond shyly accepts the compliments.

You hear your name being said, and you glance in slight shock at the one who said it, “-- made it for me,” Aemond says, then throws a small smile your way. Though your heart warms, you feel like you are still dreaming. You still can not believe how fast things have changed. Aemond went from completely ignoring you for weeks , to now smiling genuinely at you and actually knowing and saying your name.

“Yeah, well, you know, it’s nothing. I mean, I just did the embroidery like I told you earlier, Dorothea is the one who did most of the leatherwork – all of it, actually – but I was kind of guiding her the whole time…” you babble, clearly so flustered that it’s you that your brothers are laughing at now.

You glare, about to snap at them, but someone beats you to the punch.

“Shall I just cancel today’s training? Cause you lot are just wasting my precious time,” a man with salt and pepper cropped hair says gruffly, appearing behind your brothers and towers over them. Aemond takes a hard swallow at the sight of him, his rough appearance could scare anyone and anything – who doesn’t know him better.

Forrest bellows out a laugh. “Your precious time you can be spending flirting with Darcy at the tavern?”

Ser Gregory starts blushing so red that even his full beard cannot hide it. “What did I say about spreading gossip, boy?”

“I think it’s sweet,” Jorah muses. “That Ser Gregory found someone so lovely at his old age.”

Braeden smacks the back of his head, but Ser Gregory just chuckles knowing that the boy means no harm by it. “I– Thank you, Lord Jorah.”

“We’ll stop wasting your time,” Braeden says, opening the gate that Forrest had been leaning on earlier. “Come then, little cub, little prince.”

You and Aemond glance at each other, and he makes a small gesture, letting you walk in first. You bow slightly at him before you do.

As he walks in after you, Aemond feels the eyes of Ser Gregory staring him down. He glances up cautiously, meeting the older man’s astute gaze.

“So you are the Dragon Prince who fell from the sky, hmm?” Ser Gregory questions but does not give Aemond a chance to answer when he adds, “I heard many things about you.”

Forrest must have caught the petrified look on Aemond’s face because he laughs goodnaturedly and says, “Don’t worry, all good things.”

Ser Gregory grumbles. “Most good, some–”

Your face twists, silently begging him not to mention anything – that he had found you one night in a hidden corner of the keep, sobbing after another freeze out from the prince.

So he changes the subject, asking the prince instead, “Will you be joining us for training today?”

“The Maester said he shouldn’t,” you relay. “His ribs are not healed enough to do anything too physically demanding.”

Then Aemond lifts his arm, still in a sling. “And my arm… I cannot fight without both.”

“Ey? Is that right?” Ser Gregory’s usual deep tone says an octave higher, clearly tickled. He shrugs the cloak off his shoulders, revealing the long sleeve of his left arm folded and pinned up. Aemond’s mouth parts in a gasp then shuts it tight, trembling as he realizes he had just offended the armless man. “Shall I not fight anymore? Would the training I provide for you lot all be for naught?”

“Oh, Ser Greg, don’t be like that! You know he did not mean any harm by it,” Forrest says with a roll of his eyes, waving his hand after Aemond murmurs a very soft apology, the young boy unable to look the swordsman in the eye.

Ser Gregory grunts roughly, turning on his heels and begins to walk away, to where the others are training. It is his way of letting you all know to follow. Jorah stalks after him, then Forrest (who gives a shrug to Aemond), and then finally Braeden after he tells Aemond not to worry, that Ser Gregory is always unpleasant at the start but he’ll warm up to him soon.

Alone with Aemond once again, you turn to him. “Braeden’s right. Ser Gregory is just… very protective of us. But he is as sweet as he is tough! He is one the best swordsmen in the Seven Kingdoms, if not the best!”

Aemond almost blurts out that Ser Criston Cole holds that title, but he bites his tongue, not wanting to cause anymore trouble.

“You can watch from over there,” you tell him, pointing at the wooden benches at the far side of the training yard, closer to where the action is. The two of you start walking together, while you keep talking, “With Dorothea and her friend, Renee. She talks a lot but she’s fairly nice… She fancies Forrest but I don’t think Forrest likes her back like that. I don’t know why ‘cause she’s by far the prettiest girl on Bear Island… Well, after Dorothea of course...” Your mouth quirks down and you shrug, stopping when you are closer to where Ser Gregory and your brothers are. “I guess I’ll see you after training!”

“Okay,” Aemond hums. “See you soon…”

With that, the two of you part ways. You to your brothers, and Aemond goes to join Dorothea at the benches.

“Good morrow, Prince Aemond,” Dorothea chirps with a smile when she sees him approaching. She scoots over a bit, instructing her friend to do the same, giving Aemond room to sit beside her. “You look quite handsome with your new eye patch!”

Aemond blushes. “Thank you… For crafting it for me.”

She waves her hand. “It’s no trouble. You really have to thank my little sister. She pestered me until I could not say ‘no’ anymore.”

The pretty ginger girl beside Dorothea leans across her, pushing her way through the conversation, “So you must be the Targaryen Prince! It is so wonderful to meet you! I’m Renee, by the way, my father’s the tanner that made the leather of your eyepatch! It looks amazing on you! How is it like down south? Is it as beautiful as the tales I’ve heard? What of King’s Landing? Is it nice to grow up there? It must be, the North’s cold is so awfully dreadful —”

Dorothea chuckles to herself, giving Aemond an apologetic smile. Knowing he won’t get a word in until Renee wears herself out.

Eventually Aemond answers all her questions and while that happens, the training begins. The three of them watch you, your brothers, and Ser Gregory in rapt attention. Though Aemond finds himself keeping a closer eye on you than the others.

Although you are not as coordinated as your older brothers, you can still hold your own. He would even dare say you are as good as his younger brother Daeron and definitely better than his older brother Aegon. It makes him wish he was not injured, so he can pick up a sword and challenge you to a duel. Another time, perhaps.

Aemond’s daydreaming gets interrupted when the training also gets interrupted, by three soldiers approaching you and your brothers. “Lord Braeden!”

As they talk to your oldest brother, Aemond overhears a couple words being said.

Dragon. Back. Clearing.

Aemond stands up suddenly, just as Braeden looks over at him and shouts, “Little Prince! It seems your dragon has returned!”

---

The trek back to the clearing you had found Aemond and his dragon is a lot easier now than that first night. You, your brothers, and even Ser Gregory accompany the young prince to her, the dragon you had learned is named Vhagar.

Aemond had asked your family to keep an eye out for her. He was worried when she had been gone for so long, but now he guesses she was just flying around the North, perhaps hunting for food.

When you once again step foot in the clearing she had made herself, Vhagar huffs out. Though this time, she seems relieved, seeing her little dragon prince in one piece and standing tall.

You are in awe at the sight of her. That night you first saw truly did not do justice to how magnificent she really is.

“She is the largest and oldest dragon in all of Westeros,” Aemond says proudly, beaming at the look on your face.

“Whoa… Then you must be very special to be the one riding her, huh, Ae?” Forrest asks, in quiet disbelief that such a small boy has tamed such a mighty beast.

Ser Gregory grunts, but you can tell he is also awestruck.

There is a phantom pain that strikes Aemond’s right eye, a reminder at what it cost to get Vhagar. He flinches with a hiss, blinking back tears. Luckily everyone’s gaze was on the dragon, not noticing the tormented look on the young boy’s face. “Yes… I suppose so…”

Then he makes a move, walking towards his dragon.

Jorah is the first to try to follow, but Ser Gregory pulls him back from the collar of his shirt. “I will only allow the prince to see his dragon. The rest of you will stay here.”

You and your brothers all make noises of complaint, but ultimately, you listen to him. So with one final look back, Prince Aemond walks the rest of the way to his dragon, alone.

The familiar sight of Vhagar clenches at Aemond’s heart, realizing how much he misses his home. With a small coo, her head dips, allowing him to stroke her snout with his good hand.

“Have you been eating well?” He asks her. “I hope you have not been eating any of the bears on this island. That might anger the Mormonts, you know.”

Vhagar huffs, looking away in guilt, and that makes Aemond laugh. “It’s alright, I will not tell your secret. But no more!”

Vhagar’s head dips again, maybe in understanding, before she gestures it to the side, seemingly wanting for him to ride her. To fly back home.

Although he misses home, Aemond finds himself shaking his head.

He leans in and whispers to his dragon, “It’s okay, Vhagar. I…” He looks back, smiling to himself when he sees your family there, still waiting for him despite it being so cold, “I want to stay for a bit longer.”

As more days passed, the prince’s wish to stay a bit longer changed to a lot longer. And as the proposed date for him to travel home gets closer, the more he dreads it.

He loves his home, his family, don’t get him wrong. But these past month and half with the Mormonts has been one of the happiest times he has had in his life.

Aemond became fond of the rambunctious and joyous breakfast and dinners your family had every day. Likes that he can go to Braeden for anything, how Forrest can always make him laugh, that Jorah tells him all his silly fantasies, and that he is always one of the first people Dorothea goes to try out her new dessert recipes. He likes how your mother and father treat him like he is one of their own, how gentle Maester Garland is when treating him.

And like what you and your brother said, Ser Gregory eventually also warmed up to him. He learned a lot from the older swordsman, becoming much better at wielding just a sword without any shield. His footwork and dexterity also improved during the short time he had training with Ser Gregory.

But what he likes the most is, well… You .

He likes how you always seem to be the first person he sees in the morning, and last he sees at night. The way you would share all your favorite things with him, so excited all the time, that he starts to do the same. It makes him so happy how your eyes light up when he does so. You two become so attached to the hip that he wonders how he is going to go on without by his side when the time finally comes. How can he even smile ever again when your smiling face is not there for him to look upon?

All that – that has made him so happy, is also the reason he is so dejected on the morning he is to leave with your father and some of his men back home to King’s Landing. He has not even left yet, but he is already missing you and your family and the whole of Bear Island.

He does not realize it – too stuck in his own feelings – that he misses how silent the usually loud family breakfast is that morning. That he wasn’t the only one looking down at his plate, pushing the food around, appetite lost. You frown, trying to catch his eye, but he does not look up, also frowning down at his plate.

Aemond is so sulky, choosing to bolt to his chamber as soon as breakfast is finished that you do not even have the chance to talk to him at all today. He had even refused your visit to him in the early morning.

You take such a heavy sigh – one more appropriate for an elderly person who has had enough of the world instead of such a young girl like you – that Forrest can’t help but have a chuckle. You glare at him, but he soothes the frown on your face with the back of his knuckles. “Don’t worry, little cub. I’m sure Ae is just as sad as we are.”

But that sentiment makes you frown even deeper. You did not want him to be sad, you want him to always be happy.

Noon arrives and you find yourself standing with your family at the docks of Bear Island. Your father is already getting the ship ready, along with Ser Gregory and some other men – but the boy of the hour, Prince Aemond, is not even there yet.

Your brother, Forrest, volunteered to stay behind when the prince refused to come out of his room. He said to leave it up to him to get the prince out.

That was over an hour ago, and you are starting to get worried that Aemond will hole himself in that room and never come out. Though before you can really start, you hear your mother sigh with relief. “There they are.”

Turning, you follow her line of sight.

“Sorry for the wait!” Forrest calls out, the little prince running behind him, trying to keep up. There is a bag slung over your brother’s shoulder, and he addresses it a second later, “Just had to pack up all the little prince’s things.”

Aemond did not have many things when he fell on Bear Island – actually, he had nothing at all, even losing his eyepatch. All the clothes he wore during his time on Bear Island were Jorah’s and all of that were already returned yesterday. So that big bag he had packed… It must be all the gifts you had gifted him. Your heart swells at the thought. You even see the many paintings you had made for him in a roll, sticking out of the bag.

When they reach your family, that is when Aemond begins to bid farewell to everyone – one by one. It is sweet to watch just how close Aemond and each of your family members (and also those closest to your family) became. They laugh, they hug, they exchange words of promises to see each other someday soon — Septa Earla even cries, kissing both of Aemond’s cheeks.

Finally, it was your turn and when Aemond steps in front of you and faces you, you give him a wobbly smile and he gives you one just as unsure back. Stomach dropping, you can finally admit to yourself that you did want him to leave.

“You have to write to me,” you say, sniffing away the incoming tears. “I’m not asking. It’s a demand.”

Aemond chuckles, wetly. “Okay.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise,” he says, then he licks his lips, also trying not to shed any tears. “I will write every day.”

This time, it’s your turn to laugh. “Every week will suffice. I don’t need to be spoiled.”

“But I want to,” he blurts out. Then shyly, he glances down and murmurs, “I will spoil you. I will send you as many gifts as you have given me.”

Your breath catches when he glances back up, looking determined now. “You have my word, Lady Mormont.”

“I hope you don’t think that giving gifts will make me go easy on you when we finally have our one-on-one duel,” you tease with a grin. “Because I know I can beat you with my eyes closed.”

It almost offends Aemond, almost. Then he realizes you were not being unkind or making fun of him like he is used to with his brothers and nephews. No, it was not like that at all. This is like a joke, shared between… friends.

That makes him laugh joyfully, smiling so big. “Alright, I do not wish for you to go easy on me. We will duel fairly when I visit again.”

“Soon?” You ask, hopeful.

He nods firmly. “Soon.”

And then you are hugging him. It takes him by surprise, staggering back slightly, but soon he is melting into it. The tightness in which you are hugging him hurts his still healing arm – already out of the sling – but he bites through the pain, wanting to hold you a bit longer.

Neither of you let go until you both hear Ser Gregory calling from the ship, letting everyone know that they are sailing soon.

It has Aemond squeezing you in his arms one last time, his heart heavy yet elated at the same time.

He truly is already missing you… His first real friend.

---

True to his word, you receive a raven from Aemond as soon as he is settled back home, a moon and a few weeks since his departure from Bear Island.

It is a short message – one can only fit so many words in the tiny raven scroll – but he writes that he already misses you and your family, that he made sure that his father sent a few of his best men to accompany your father back to the port that they had landed their ship at, and that you should be getting a proper, longer letter from him soon. It had confused you what he had meant, but a week after your father and Ser Gregory had returned, a man – who is definitely not dressed warmly enough for the weather of the North – arrives on Bear Island.

He comes bearing gifts and a long written letter from Aemond. Your father is in shock, it has been quite a long time since a courier had visited the island. The last time he can recall was when his mother, your grandmother, was still alive, and would have couriers coming to-and-fro from Highgarden, receiving letters from her friends and family back home. It is an expensive service, but the courier assured your family that the Queen had paid him handsomely for it, and that your House has no need to give anything else even though he will be waiting at the tavern inn to deliver back whatever you wanted to give the young Prince.

When Aemond said he’d spoiled you, he was not joking in the slightest. In the box that you had received from him were gifts of the finest qualities: oil paints in every shade of the rainbow, paint brushes of many shapes and sizes, and ink and varying quills for the letters you will write back to him, and a book that he writes is one of his favorites. There were gifts for your siblings as well, but you definitely got spoiled the most.

But your favorite thing that Aemond gave you is his letter. You find yourself going to the guest chamber he used to reside in, sitting on a stool beside the bed, pretending it is like the mornings when he was actually there, the conversations the two of you used to have before heading to break fast. As you read, you can hear his voice, as if he was there beside you.

Aemond writes about his first week back. Everyday, he was surprised with his favorite foods during meals. How his father actually spent some time with him in between his busy schedule. That even his older brother, Prince Aegon, was kind to him. He writes about how his sister loves the paintings you made – she even has one hanging in a golden frame in her bedchamber now. His mother wants to meet your family, and Ser Criston was impressed by what Aemond had learned from Ser Gregory. He wished you could have seen the friendly duel between the two warriors, how the cheers in the training yard during it could rival the cheers of an official tourney. In jest, Aemond says he will not reveal who the winner was. (Later, when you ask Ser Gregory, he tells you it was him, of course. You are not sure if you believe him.)

Aemond tells you other things, more mundane happenings in his day to day life, but you enjoy it all just the same. Then he ends the letter with how he is writing this under the heart tree within the Red Keep, pretending it is the one on Bear Island where he would accompany you when you wanted some peace and quiet away from your siblings.

It makes me happy being here , he writes, I often visit it now.

It makes me think of you.

I hope you are thinking of me too.

You go to the Godswood of your own home later, and sit by the Weirwood tree with the book Aemond gifted you. As you read, you smile to yourself, then look up at the sunlight that peeks through the limbs and branches of the tree. Beaming wider, you say to the sky, “I am.”

It goes like that for many moons.

Ravens and couriers going back and forth from King’s Landing to Bear Island. Letters after letters, gifts after gifts. You get embarrassed how homely the things you give Aemond are – all are just things you’ve made and not anything fancy at all like what he has given you – but he assures you that he loves it all. The letters, since there is an abundance, often came with no real substance or new story to tell but neither of you got bored, just content to receive anything from your friend.

But you have to admit, you are starting to get really lonely without your friend there with you. When you catch sight of your sister and Renee, Forrest and his training buddies, Braeden and his two best friends who he grew up with since he was a babe, and Jorah and the big group of friends he hangs out with… You feel so awfully alone.

You did not want to be greedy. Aemond is already doing so much. The letters, the gifts, the courier his family had hired… You were grateful for it all, but still, you could not help but write on the scroll you attached to the raven you send to him:

I wish you were here.

You don’t hear from him for weeks after that, which is odd. It has you scared you had creeped him out. Like you are a child throwing a tantrum for having your favorite toy taken away.

But then, just when you are about to lose hope, thinking you had lost your best friend… A dragon you instantly recognize, flies around overhead of the Mormont Keep before landing on the clearing that she now has claimed as her own.

Exhilarated, you and your brothers run to the clearing, meeting the prince just as Vhagar lands. You tackle him into the tightest hug, falling over in a heap on the ground when your brothers join in.

At his arrival, your mother has the housekeepers make up the guest chamber, though now it seems to be Aemond’s official bedchamber in your home. He brings with him a bag of clothes, and it has you asking if he is staying long which he nods and says yes. Your father and mother also question how long he is going to stay, and he tells them his mother says he can stay for a moon or two — without looking them in the eye. They found it odd, but who are they to go against the prince’s or the queen’s word?

It is all fun and games, you and Aemond are having the time of your lives — until the raven from the Queen comes just a week and half after he landed.

It seems Aemond had actually ran away – or more so, flew away — from home when his father and mother did not give him an answer fast enough for when he could go visit you. The queen writes that she wishes for him to come back home, and that when he returns, they will figure out a more proper visit.

Just like that, Prince Aemond being royalty is completely forgotten, and the mama bear in your mother comes out. She scolds him like how she scolds her own children, and you and Aemond are both crying at the end of it. He goes back home the next day, but before he does, your mother reassures him that she is still fond of him and he is always welcome back, but to never do that again, not without the permission of his parents. Understanding, he has his head dipped low as he hugs her goodbye, before turning to you to do the same.

Your parents and the Queen begin to correspond after that. They make a plan that the Queen will be the one to write the letter asking your parents if Aemond can visit for a couple days along with her official seal, and when your parents answer back with a confirmation, that is when she will allow Aemond to fly Vhagar to Bear Island.

Years pass like that. Letters coming in weekly, and Aemond visiting every three or so moons.

On the third year, you get word that Aemond will be visiting for a week to celebrate yours and his 16th name day together. It has been a yearly tradition since the two of you became friends, but this year… You think it might be a little bit different.

As you read the raven scroll he had written you – knowing that he is already on his way on his mighty dragon – a nervousness, like the wings of many butterflies, flutters in your stomach. You do not know how or even why it happened, but ever since his last visit two moons ago, you had begun to develop feelings for your best friend.

It is not like much has changed. He is still just Aemond. Perhaps a little bit taller, his voice breaking more often now and slightly deeper, and his hair longer – but that’s it.

Then again… Though he is still lean, he definitely looks a bit broader, the muscles in his arms more defined. You press your hand on your lower stomach when you remember the feel of his arms around you, a strange and unfamiliar heat there as you get dizzy at the thought.

That memory was not of a hug Aemond had given you. It was from his last visit, when you finally got the permission from your parents to be able to ride Vhagar with the prince. It was something you had been begging them to let you do for years, and they finally agreed, thinking you are old enough and that you had proven yourself responsible enough to do so. You remember Aemond’s hand clasped in yours, both running while laughing through the pathway of Vhagar’s clearing. Your two chaperons, Forrest and Ser Gregory, trailing far behind the two of you, there to make sure no one gets hurt. You recall the fond look on Aemond’s face when you stroke the scales on Vhagar’s face, the she-dragon purring at your touch.

“I think she likes you more than she likes me,” he had told you with his lopsided, winning smile. Then he lifted you up to help you climb up the netting onto the dragon’s mount, strong enough to do it on his own without your brother and Ser Gregory. He followed after you with practiced ease, sitting himself just behind you.

You were excitedly waving to Forrest and Ser Gregory when you felt Aemond lean in closer to you, his chest pressing against your back and his arms securely around you. That was when the nerves started to kick in and at the time, you thought it was because you were about to fly on a dragon for the first time. See the world from above for the first time. You had been sure that was the only reason why.

Aemond instructed you to hold onto the handles in front of you, while he grabbed onto the strap of the rope. Once you do and once Aemond made sure you are ready and good to go, both fastened to the saddle, he begun to command Vhagar to take off in High Valyrian.

And then the two of you are flying, high in the sky. It was so exhilarating. You had never felt anything like it before. You looked down on Bear Island, your home, and it looked like it was a part of the miniature, wooden villages that Maester Garland liked to craft in his spare time.

It made your heart soar. You felt so at peace, letting your eyes shut as the wind blew through your hair. You felt so safe in Aemond’s arms, not worrying at all that you were thousands of feet off the ground.

You remember looking back at Aemond, grinning, only to find him already looking at you. That same fond look he had given you earlier when you were petting Vhagar. It made you take an audible swallow. In that very moment, it seems like there was a shift between you and the dragon prince.

That was when he leaned in closer — so, so close, that you thought foolishly he was about to kiss you — but he turns his head and whispered in your ear instead, “I think I…” he stopped, licked his lips and tried again, “I think this is the happiest I’ve ever been in my entire life.”

Ah… That’s it. That’s when it happened. You laugh to yourself now, thinking about sweet, naive, and younger by merely just a few moons you, thinking you are just going on an exciting dragon ride with your best friend, not knowing what will happen next. That those words that your best friend had said would replay in your mind over and over and over again; keeping you up at night, distracting everything you do, until you got butterflies in your stomach every time you thought of the small smile he gave you after he said those words.

And so here you are now, more nervous than excited for your best friend to arrive to celebrate your name days together, just because you had realized your stupid newfound feelings for him.

Before, you did not care for how you looked in front of anyone, let alone Aemond. But now, you’ve been pacing back and forth from the mirror standing beside your bed to your wooden closet, changing in and out of different dresses. Nothing looked right, nothing made you feel pretty enough. With a frustrated huff, you settled for a dark green dress — maybe in the back of your head, you wore it to pay tribute to Aemond’s mother side of the family, the Hightowers, and your own House.

Next, you decide to tackle your hair. Sitting down at the vanity, you take your hair brush in one hand and the other clenches in a determined fist. You always wore your hair down, unruly and wild. It is only when your mother or Septa Earla manages to catch you that you begrudgingly head back to your chambers to brush it and pin it back. Today, neither of them have to tell you anything, you want your hair to look nice and beautiful. But you are not at all practiced, and even the simplest braid you try to weave together looks wonky and weird. It is times like this that you wish you were more like Dorothea, all lady-like and proper and gorgeous, with a million suitors lining up to court her. Maybe then you wouldn’t even need to do all this for Aemond to return your feelings.

Sighing, you thread your fingers through your hair, letting the failure of a braid untangle and just letting your hair be loose yet neat. You look at yourself in the mirror, guessing that this would be the best you could do. You dare not ask Dorothea to help out because your sister is clever and she will certainly be asking questions about why you are trying so hard to look so… nice.

And you are not ready to have that talk with anyone yet. Or at all.

It must have been going on for at least a minute, but you are so in your head that you only hear the knocking on your door when it is accompanied by the voice that you had longed to hear — and now, the one that sets you up in a panic.

You shoot up from the chair — hitting your knee on the underside of the vanity in the process and thus knocking all the various little objects on your desk over as you curse out loud at the stabbing pain where you had hit yourself. A concerned call of your name can be heard from the other side of the closed door, and you answer back with ‘Just a second!’ as you scramble to straighten up all the things that fell over, before hurrying to the door.

When you open it, you are greeted with the handsome face of your best friend. The sight of him takes your breath away. Aemond has always been otherworldly looking – with his pale white hair and unique colored eye – but seeing him now, it really hits you how ethereal he really is. It has you staring dumbly at him, his own violet eye is set on you. He gives you a slow glance over; his pretty, pink lips quirking up in a smirk. Worriedly biting down on your own lip, you wonder how disheveled you look right now. Was all that fussing over your appearance and the million outfit changes all for nothing?

“So you did not welcome me when I arrived, and now I do not even get a ‘hello’?”

That has you snapping out of your thoughts, exhaling out a laugh as you jump forward to throw your arms around him. He catches you with ease, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifts you off the ground, spinning you around. It has the two of you laughing, you into his neck while you feel him smile against the crown of your head. It has your heartbeat racing dangerously fast, and so when your feet touch the ground, you quickly take a step back to create a bit of distance from the prince. Just in case you do something that you will probably regret, the feeling of his lips on you had you wishing you could feel it elsewhere – everywhere else.

“I did not even know you’ve arrived,” you tell him, confused. “I’m sure I would have heard Vhagar… Did you travel here in a different way?”

Aemond laughs, shaking his head. “No, I came how I’ve always did… Jorah told me they’ve been calling for you as soon as they saw Vhagar flying in, but you did not answer.”

“Oh…” You murmur, giving him a crooked and apologetic smile. “Sorry, I’ve been a little…”

Aemond’s eye brow quirks in a silent question, peeking into your room and then grinning at the mess he sees inside, at the heaps of different colored dresses thrown carelessly on the floor. “... Preoccupied?”

Playfully glaring at him, you put a hand on his chest, pushing him backwards while also closing your door behind you with the other.

“Let’s go,” you say haughtily, walking ahead of him in a huff that has him laughing behind you. “You must be famished from the travel.”

Though before you can take another stop, Aemond clasps his hand around your elbow, forcing you to stop abruptly to look back at him in question.

“You look beautiful, by the way…” Is what he tells you. You nearly die on the spot with how your heart seizes at the way he smiles at you, all soft and shy, reminding you of the boy he once was and not the confident young man he has grown to be. “I just thought you should know.”

Does he even know how disarming he is? How he has taken a hold of your foolish, girlish heart without so much as trying?

You are not sure if you can keep yourself from doing something stupid in the next week, and it terrifies you because… It will probably ruin your friendship with your Targaryen prince forever.

Thankfully, you manage to keep your head on straight throughout the next few days, even though you spent ninety percent of your days and nights with the one causing you to lose it. You were quite proud of yourself that no sudden outburst of your feelings for him has slipped through your mouth – and that is a hard feat, since you are one to always say what is on your mind.

Aemond is none the wiser. After your initial nervousness around him, you are quick to get back to how you two normally are – thanks to his help. It’s nice to know that despite your changing feelings for him, you can always be yourself around Aemond.

On the morning of his name day, you head to training with your prince and brothers, all laughing and joking around. Forrest is mostly the butt of joke, since he is groaning and whining after eating too many pancakes at Aemond’s birthday breakfast.

Like every year since the tradition started of celebrating your name days together, on Aemond’s day, breakfast is grand to celebrate the prince’s life. But the real party is always celebrated two days after – during supper – when it is your name day. You are not at all mad to share the spotlight with the prince. In fact, it makes you even happier.

But this time, you are anxious about the upcoming celebration. Not about the party itself, but about the present you are planning on gifting Aemond. You have been going back and forth on it, and now it is already too late to really give him anything else. Besides, you can’t give him another set of knitted gloves, one that he could only use when he visits Bear Island because it’s too warm for it down south. So perhaps, you can whip up another painting of the prince on Vhagar’s back in two days…

“What’s on your mind?” Aemond asks, bumping his elbow on your side to grab your attention. “You’ve gone all quiet and… strange, again.”

“Strange…?” You question, nervously laughing. “What do you mean by that?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know… Just…” He sighs, shaking his head dolefully. “Nevermind.”

You really thought you had been acting normally, but maybe you had not been. You don’t know whether you should try to explain it to him or not. But before you can even make up your mind, you arrive at the training grounds, and Forrest is putting his arm around the prince’s shoulder, pulling him to where the new equipment and training dummies are set up.

Training begins and you still have not had the chance to talk to Aemond. You could hope you don’t look as miserable as you feel.

At least you weren’t alone in your misery.

Jorah is antsy beside you, mopey as well. Clearly not wanting to be there for various reasons. He had confided in you a few moons back that he just doesn’t enjoy sword fighting anymore, that he would rather spend his time at his apprenticeship with the tanner. He thought it was unfair that Dorothea had been given permission to opt out of training, but just because he is a boy, he had to keep it up.

Another reason for Jorah’s ire from training is that it’s the one place where he has to watch the girl of his dream clearly so smitten with someone who is not him. That someone being your older brother, Forrest.

Braeden joins you and Jorah – off to the side, away from everyone else – and laughs at the heated glare on Jorah’s face directed towards Forrest who is entertaining a group of pretty girls by the benches. You are frowning too, seeing Aemond by his side, also getting those kinds of looks from the girls.

“Chin up, little brother,” Braeden says, tapping his knuckles lightly under Jorah’s chin. Then he turns to you and does the same, “And, you too, little cub.”

“This is ridiculous,” Jorah huffs, eyes rolling off to the side, having had enough of all the flirting he had just witnessed. “Can I just go? I have more important things to do…”

It is Braeden’s turn to frown. “Look, I know you hate it but… You have to know how to fight. What if your future lady gets into trouble and you don’t know how? What if that ends up costing her life? And besides…” Braeden sighs, gesturing his head over to where the loud group of giggling girls are to prove his point, “Girls love a good warrior.”

Jorah rolls his eyes again, but can’t help but longingly look in that direction anyway – at the beautiful redheaded girl who is the reason he even started his apprenticeship at the tannery in the first place.

“You’re right,” Jorah says, patting Braeden’s chest before he starts walking towards the group with purpose.

You exchange a look with your oldest brother, muttering out, “Oh no…”

And then the two of you are after him, Braeden calling out, “Wait, that’s not what I meant–”

“Forrest!”

The noisy group immediately quieted down, all turning to see the man marching towards them with the most determined look on his face. Dorothea, who is sitting by herself just a few benches away from Forrest, Aemond, and her best friend, heaves a heavy sigh; face palming and whispers low to herself, “Oh boy… Here we go…”

Forrest grins, turning his body and giving his full attention to his youngest brother. “What is it, little br–”

“I challenge you–” Jorah points his wooden training sword towards Forrest, “– to a duel!”

There is a hushed murmuring throughout the training yard. Forrest looks a bit taken aback, but he is quick to recover, smiling wide with a cool shrug. “Sure, that sounds fun!”

Jorah scoffs at how easygoing his brother is, avoiding the questioning look from the girl who has his heart.

Ser Gregory breaks away from where he is training some of the younger kids, clapping his hand on his chest jovially at what he had heard. “Ey, finally! Something exciting!”

As your two brothers get ready for their match, you join the others that have gathered to watch, creating an impromptu circle around them.

“May I?” It is Aemond, asking if he could take the empty spot beside you.

“Of course,” you say like it is stupid for him to even ask.

He chuckles at your pout and way your brows drawn together, says under his breath as he stands beside you and looks ahead, “Bellus.”

You know it is Valyrian without even asking, but at this point in your friendship, you know better than to ask. Aemond usually only lets you privy to the translation of the words if he wants you to know, which is most of the time. But sometimes, there are words he likes to keep secret – you do not know why. You just hope it all means good things.

A loud cheering erupts as the match is set to begin. You and Aemond join in, though more subdued.

“Who do you think will win?” Aemond asks, slowly ceasing his clapping when your two brothers start clashing swords.

“I do not want to say it out loud,” you answer him. “But I think we both know.”

Aemond hums in agreement.

And just like that, as soon as the fight started, it was over in no time.

Forrest’s boisterous laughter fills the air and tells the young man glaring at the ground, “You’ll need to get better if you want to best me, my dear brother.”

He tries to give a hand to help up the defeated Jorah, but it gets swatted away.

“Well, that was…” Ser Gregory begins, eyeing Jorah as he hobbles away from the circle with Forrest catching up after him. “Interesting, yes… Anyone else? We are all here, anyway!”

The crowd murmurs, everyone looking around. That is when you feel movement beside you, and your eyes widen as you realize it was Aemond, stepping up to break out of the circle.

Ser Gregory bellows out a joyful laugh, “My prince, atta boy! And who will you be challenging?”

“I would like to challenge…” trailing off, Aemond smirks, clasping his hands behind his back, looking so regal and self-assured that you swear you could hear every girl in the crowd swooning. It has you making a face, trying so hard not to feel possessive jealousy but you could not help it.

“Lady Mormont.”

You do not know which was more unattractive; the grimace on your face or the way you gasped when Aemond turned to look back at you.

“Me?!” You gape at Aemond, looking at him like he had grown three heads.

He nods, the grin on his face saying ‘yes, you’.

“We’ve talked about this before, haven’t we? How one day we shall face-off to see which one of us is the better fighter?”

Yes, when we were children, you wanted to tell him. When I did not care if you would ever see me as something more.

Aemond’s head tilts, “Why not today?”

At this point you could not possibly refuse and back down. Everyone around you is already cheering you on. If Ser Gregory did not have appearances to keep up, you were sure he would be jumping up and down as he begs you pretty, pretty please to accept the prince’s challenge.

So that is what you do.

Looking Aemond straight in his violet eye, you say evenly and with a curtsy, “Then I accept your challenge, my Prince.”

It has him catching his breath, closely watching you as you walk past him to retrieve a wooden sword for the duel. It is not often that you call him by his title, but when you do…

Aemond’s hand flexes at his side, chuckling to himself, before he follows after you.

Getting yourself ready for the fight, you take a deep inhale, holding it in for a couple long seconds, and then exhaling out. It is an attempt to calm your nerves, but it did not really do the job. Instead what does is when you find your sister’s gaze in the crowd, her calling out that she’s rooting for you, and then Braeden’s right after, telling you to kick Aemond’s ass — ‘Respectfully,’ he adds, towards the prince.

That has you exchanging a laugh with Aemond, and he wets his lips before asking, “Are you ready?”

You take your place in front of him, both of you standing in the middle of the circle. “As I’ll ever be.”

When Ser Gregory gives the command to put your blades up and engage, neither you or Aemond make a direct move to go at each other. Instead, you both found yourselves circling the other, as if in a dance. There is a smug smirk on his face as he kept his eye on you, you did not know if you wanted to hit it off or kiss it off. Probably, both.

You know he will not be the one to make the first move, so instead of putting off the inevitable, you take the first strike. He dodges it with such grace that you cannot help but to be in awe, allowing him to counter with his own attack. Luckily, you were quick to block it, wooden swords clashing together with a loud clank . But he has the upperhand now, forcing you to retreat backwards with every parry of his sword against yours.

Getting closer and closer to the crowd, you knew you had to move away before you bump into any of them. So the next time Aemond swipes his sword, you duck under it, fleeing to move yourself back closer to the middle of the circle. He turns his heel so he can face you again, but that gives you a chance to be on the offense again. You slash, and slash, and slash, but each one is deflected. You knew you had to change your strategy, think quickly on your feet…

So you lunge forward, aiming at Aemond’s left shoulder. Just like you thought, he blocks it without much effort. But that left him open, and you kick your foot out, causing him to trip when your boot collides with his ankle.

He falls on his back, and you press the tip of your wooden sword on his chest. His eye slowly opens, staring into yours.

The crowd’s cheers are deafening, but neither you or Aemond seem to hear, so focused on each other. As if you two were the only ones on that training field.

That is when it dawns on you what you had just done, the anxiety mixing in with the shortness of your breathing from the fight.

You so desperately wanted Aemond to see you as a lady. Someone pretty and delicate. Someone he can see a future with.

But here you are, knocking him off his feet, making him fall hard on his back with a groan – on his name day, as well!

What were you thinking?!

A million apologies fall out your lips as you crash on your knees beside him, mixed in with the bunch of times you asked if he was okay.

Though also exhausted and out of breath, Aemond laughs at your worrying. He takes your hand in his and softly says your name – that has you shutting up good.

“I assure you, I am fine,” he tells you as he holds your hand tighter, pressing it against his chest. You swear you can feel the rapid beating of his heart. “More than fine.”

“I…” you say, trailing off when Aemond reaches his free hand up, and tenderly tucks away a flyaway strand of hair that fell from your ponytail. “Okay.”

“And I was wrong,” he says.

Your head tilts in confusion.

Aemond grazes his thumb against your knuckles, smiling at you so prettily that it can rival all the stars in the night sky.

“A lady could fight.”

You cannot stop yourself from smiling too.

Though the dinner party inside was wonderful and grand, you find yourself stepping away outside towards the end of it, to have a moment to yourself. It is a beautiful night out here in the Godswood, the stars above so bright, as if welcoming you into this new era of your life.

You can not believe you are sixteen now. More a woman now than a girl, as your mother had said earlier the evening. You suppose she is right. Only a woman would suddenly have such confusing feelings over someone who she had thought of for so long as just her best friend.

You laugh at yourself out loud.

“May I get in on the joke?”

You turn around to see Aemond leaning on one of the other trees that surround the big Weirwood tree. He had been watching you, though you had no clue for how long.

“It’s nothing,” you tell him, still giggling to yourself but you try to shake yourself out of it. “I… I think I’ve had too much wine.”

He pushes himself off against the tree, striding his way to you. “You’ve only had a cup. I did not think you to be such a lightweight.”

“Shut up,” you pout, pushing him lightly when he gets close enough.

“It’s good though… Do not be a drunkard like my older brother.”

From all the stories you have heard about Prince Aegon from Aemond, you shiver at the thought. “Don’t worry. I will not.”

Aemond chuckles at how utterly disturbed you seem to be at the notion, then joins you in looking up at the stars. A comfortable silence falling between you.

“Did you like my present?” Aemond asks after a while.

“Of course I did! How could I not?” You say, perplexed that he is even asking. As if you could ever dislike anything he has given you. And this present was probably the most extravagant of them all. It is a gorgeous gown, one of a kind and made by the Queen’s and Princess Helaena’s personal dressmaker. The Queen herself assisted Aemond in picking out the colors and design – a creamy white chiffon over a floral patterned silk under to mute the already paled colors of the silk – the billowy sleeves of the dress off-the-shoulder. Scandalous in your part of Westeros, but perhaps not in the southern cities. You loved it as soon as you set your eyes on it.

“It’s beautiful. I thank you again. I wish I had some special, fancy occasion to wear it to though.”

“I’ll find one,” Aemond declares, sounding so sure of it. “But then again, there is no one to stop you from just wearing it. Who would dare question you when you bested a Targaryen Prince in a duel?”

Your eyes narrow at him. “I will not disrespect your mother – the Queen, by the way – by wearing the beautiful dress she helped make for me out at the training grounds.”

Aemond holds his hands up defensively, grinning at your feistiness. “Alright, alright, it was merely just a suggestion.”

Then you sigh, crossing your arms together. “I suppose it’s my turn to give you your gift then?”

“I…” Aemond wets his lips, “I hope you do not think that I brought up your present just to remind you of mine.”

Your head shakes at him, amused now. “I did not… But now that you mentioned it…” At your teasing, Aemond opens his mouth then shuts it, only to do it again, looking like a dumb fish. It has you laughing, “I’m joking, Aemond!”

Then you take a deep breath, grabbing the small pouch that you had tucked into the pocket of your dress. It is now or never.

You tell him to hold out his hand, and when he does, you drop the bag gently onto his palm. “Happy name day, Prince Aemond.”

He looks at you expectantly, and when you give him the go ahead, he unties the drawstrings, opening the pouch and letting the content of it drop into his hand.

He lets out a tiny exhale of air, staring in absolute wonder at the sparkling ball of blue. “Is this…” He glances up and into your eyes, his gaze warm and soft, “Sapphire?”

Humming, you nod. “It was given to me by my grandmother. Well, actually, I picked it out. During her final days, she allowed all the women in our family to pick out whichever jewelry they wanted. Her jewels were the only things she had brought here from Highgarden. So while my mother, my sister, my aunts, and cousins were picking out all the pretty earrings, rings, necklaces, and brooches… Guess what my stupid six year old self wanted…”

“This… ball of sapphire?” Aemond answers, picking it up between his fingers, laughing with you when you nod.

“You should have seen the look on all their faces… It was hilarious, looking back now. And then… My grandmother, she just… She laughed and she picked me up and held me close. The joy on her face, the bells of her laughter, it was…” You smile sadly, eyes watering. “She had been so weak and tired for so long before that moment, so seeing that… knowing I was the cause of that– that moment. One of the last happy moments in her life… This ball of sapphire, not only is it the most valuable thing I own, it is also my favorite…” You clasp your hand over his, making him close it around the sapphire ball, staring into his eye as you say, “So please, take care of it.”

Aemond sighs, covering his other hand over yours and pulls your joined hands towards him, causing you to press up against him, gasping. He bends his head down, his forehead touching yours as he murmurs to you, low and sure, “I will treasure it forever.”

If you had known that was the last time you would see Aemond for a long while, you would have… You would have just done it. Done the stupid thing you made yourself hold back throughout his visit. Told him how you felt about him. Kissed him until neither of you could breathe. Anything.

But you do not have any hindsight, and you did not know in the upcoming years, Aemond would be too busy to visit. As he grows older, his royal duties also become more important. No longer a boy, Aemond now has jobs to do, important people to network with, and his training with Ser Criston now more intense and longer.

Though you are sad about the changes, you are not at all angry. Aemond still found time to write to you every week, keeping up with your life as he kept you up with his.

Three years passed like this. Just letters and no visits. Vhagar’s pit has been empty for so long that wild flowers started to grow in it. Your nineteenth name day comes and goes, another sad and lonely year you do not spend with your best friend.

Days, weeks, and moons cycle around. But just when you think another year would go by without seeing Aemond, an invitation arrives:

The House of Mormont are cordially invited to Aegon Targaryen & Helaena Targaryen’s wedding.

---

author's note:

so next chapter... rating is going to go up to explicit if you know what i mean... heh heh. i hope you are all enjoying it thus far, let me know what you think :')

*also, bellus=cute. none of the high valyrian translators have cute in it so i just used the latin word for it :)

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #hotd imagine #hotd smut #aemond #aemond targaryen #hotd

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mollymauk-teafleak · 1 day

Note

Angel seeing Husk hold the twins for the first time!!

You honestly give me the best prompts, thank you so much <3

I also posted this over on Ao3, all comments are appreciated!

tw: male presenting pregnancy

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Angel Dust opened his eyes and immediately felt like he’d been hit by a truck. Not a new sensation for him, exactly, but it still sucked.

He probably wouldn’t even qualify as awake by any definition of the word, head full of fog, his vision blurred, but his pain receptors were sure on duty. He knew the deep ache in his muscles, so fierce that he was actually trembling slightly, the rawness in his throat from crying out, louder and louder to the point where it became a pain all its own. He knew where that sickly feeling in his stomach was coming from, exhaustion only skimmed by not enough sleep to do anything more than expose more raw edges.

Angel was awake enough to feel the pain but not awake enough to remember where or when he was, every other time he’d woken up feeling so broken crowding his mind at once. What did I say to Father? What the fuck did I take last night? How long did I last on the wagon this time? How did I piss off Valentino this bad?

Already his eyes began to burn and acid rose in his throat, certain that whatever the reason was, it was only going to bring more pain with it.

“Angel?”

The voice was rough, raspy, almost as exhausted as Angel felt, but it broke through his rising panic like the sun through clouds. He swam towards it through his fractured scraps of thought, relief blunting the edges of his pain, just the thought that whatever he’d taken, whatever had been done to him, whatever bad decisions recent and ancient had landed him in this sorry state, Husk was here. Husk would forgive him, Husk would kiss it better, Husk would help him remember that things could be good. Husk was here.

“Easy, baby, easy, I got you…” Angel felt an arm slide around his shoulders, holding him up when his muscles seized painfully as he tried to rise.

Angel made a rough noise that was really several curse words trying to tumble out of his mouth at once, groping for and finding Husk’s hand. Something about that action sparked a memory, more recent, the kind he could follow back to the here and now. He practically felt indentations pressed into Husk’s palm, fitting his grasp exactly.

He felt strangely unbalanced as the other demon helped him lean against the pillows, as upright as he was going to manage in this state. His body didn’t just hurt, it felt wrong for some reason, like he was a puzzle piece with a gap right in the middle.

Like they were trying to fill that space, words he didn’t understand yet rose in his throat. He didn’t know why he asked but the words burned a little, like he’d never cared about anything so much in his life.

“Where are they?”

He could see Husk now, he got to watch the expression on his face become pure adoration. Suddenly he didn’t look so tired, he seemed to brighten from the inside out, like the answer itself was something glowing and golden.

“They’re right here, baby. Safe and sound, thanks to you.”

It was like slipping into a dream and having your brain suddenly decide it was falling, tumbling you right back out again. Dizzying freefall, sudden impact, instant relief so strong it was almost painful. That's how it felt when Husk’s words brought all of Angel’s memories flooding back.

It was because he’d said it back then too, last night, though it felt like years ago. It didn’t even feel correct to say it happened last night, to pin the moment so firmly in time when there had been no such thing. It had just been a sea of hurt and fear that threatened to swallow Angel completely but moments of love had jutted up like rocks from that raging surf, giving him something to swim towards, a way to keep going, five seconds to catch his breath. This one had come right at the end, just when the storm had spat him out and left him broken on some shore he didn’t recognise. Those same words, they’re here, safe and sound, thanks to you.

Angel remembered what happened. They had happened.

He recognised his bedroom now but it was the one difference that drew his eye, the bassinet sat next to the bed. He was pulled towards it by a force almost magnetic, his pounding heart only slowing down when he saw them there, pressed up against the soft divider between them like they were trying to reach each other. One little girl, one little boy. Two goddamn miracles.

“See?” Husk rubbed small circles on Angel’s bare shoulder, “They’re sleeping. Have been for hours now, you’d think they did all the work today.”

Angel’s initial panic fell away, leaving a kind of exhausted joy to well up in its place. The little newborns were still strangers to him, he hadn’t quite memorized their faces yet, but knowing they were there, close by and safe, filled that place inside him.

“Must be exhausting being that adorable,” Angel murmured, his voice a rasping wheeze like there was a leak in his engine.

“Well you’d know, wouldn’t you?” Husk purred so hard it would be difficult to hear his voice if he wasn’t nuzzling Angel as he spoke, the words pressed right against his skin.

“Shut up, I look like shit,” Angel scoffed, though he was suddenly grinning.

“Not to me, baby…”

Husk had a way of saying things like that, a way that made it impossible to not believe him, even when Angel could feel the bags under his red rimmed eyes, his hair stiff with dried sweat, his still rounded stomach and stiff, awkward movements as he tried to remember how to pilot his own body. But Husk said it with a showman’s conviction, reminding Angel of the moment he really did honestly believe that he’d pulled that card from thin air or that coin from behind his ear.

So Angel just tucked away those words, that smile Husk had given him, adding it to the long list of ways his husband had brought him through the last nine months when it would have been impossible without him, “Well. I feel like shit, even if I’m real good at hiding it.”

“No wonder,” Husk murmured, running his fingers gently down Angel’s spine, “You pulled off a goddamn miracle, baby. Feel like I should be on my knees worshiping you or something.”

“Maybe after I've recovered, huh?” Angel smirked, finally pulling his eyes off his babies and looking up at Husk, frowning a little, “Shit, Husky, have you slept at all?”

The guilty look the cat demon struggled to wipe off his face gave Angel all the answers he needed, “I mean…I’m okay, I was just spectating…”

“Bullshit,” Angel reached up, stroking back Husk’s whiskers, all bent out of shape from where he’d fussed with them, “You did a hell of a lot more than that. Charlie told us both to get rest, dumbass, need me to set her on you?”

Husk’s ears went back a little. Their princess had shown just how forceful she could be when she was making sure Angel stuck to the list of pregnancy do’s and don’ts. Sure, those recommendations had come from books smuggled from the mortal realm that were probably out of date and, even if they weren’t, had never meant to apply to spider demons. But Charlie had gotten to be a very scary nurse.

“I know, I know…” Husk’s eyes moved over to their two little bundles of blanket and dark fur, their four ears twitching in sleep, “I just…I can’t take my eyes off them, y’know? They’re so small and so perfect and…and I just need to protect them.”

More of the last night was coming back to Angel, as he cataloged the aches and pains that accompanied each moment. He remembered the first time he’d held Bella, the little girl and the first one to make her appearance, and the rush of emotions that had struck him, Joy, yes, enough that it outpaced any high he’d ever had, but fear too.

She’d been so small and delicate in his hands, all wet fur and high, keening cries and eyes she couldn’t open yet. As she’d laid on Angel’s chest and curled into him, somehow seeing him as safety and comfort, he’d realized how fragile she really was, now someone didn’t have to go through Angel to hurt her. He’d known then, with a heavy certainty, that if anything happened to her, it would break him beyond repair.

And then Howie, their son, had been born not breathing. It was like life was making sure he’d taken the hint, forcing Angel to live through those sickening minutes of silence and know that these fragile little things were part of him and without them, the whole thing would come down. Of course it had only been moments, thanks to a quick intervention from Charlie and Lucifer, but it was enough. Angel had survived so much, even kept on surviving after it had killed him, even when he wasn’t sure he wanted to keep going. But he wouldn’t survive losing them.

“I know how you feel,” was all he could say, groping for Husk’s hand again and holding on tight.

“It’s crazy, right?” Husk’s laugh was weak, a thin coating over a sob, “I keep thinking someone’s going to come in and take you and them away. Because an asshole like me was never meant to catch a break this lucky, someone two floors up filled out a form wrong and I got this life I never deserved. So I keep my eyes on them so…so I can remember how happy I felt when it’s gone.”

“Husk…” Angel scrambled to promise that he wasn’t going anywhere, that nothing in heaven or hell or anything in between was going to be able to take them away, to do something about the deep chasm of hurt he heard in his love’s voice.

But before he could even try, one of the swaddled lumps in the bassinet stirred, an eye opening for the very first time, a tiny golden coin dropped into their hands. It was Howie, wrapped in the little green blanket, now looking about ninety percent mouth as he cracked an enormous yawn, showing rows of tiny needle teeth. For a brief moment, Angel’s exhausted brain was glad he’d gotten rid of his tits a while back, these spiky little spiderlings would be strictly bottle fed.

“Oh,” Husk sounded more than a little relieved at the interruption of their new reality, moving towards the bassinet, “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll…”

Both his voice and his hands seemed to run out of steam in the same moment, stalling into nothing, like they knew what came next but something wouldn’t resolve. Like he’d reached the end of a chain around his neck, no more slack to pull on,

Howie blinked his gold and black eyes, pulling towards his daddy as much as he could while wrapped in a blanket and with no idea how to pilot his own limbs. When Husk didn’t get any closer, his sooty little form shuddered, breath hitching, gearing up towards a piercing cry.

“Husk…” Angel murmured, feeling like he wanted to cry himself, “Have you not held them yet?”

He knew the answer, he could remember now. It was Lucifer who’d caught them both, Charlie who’d held Bella while they’d waited for her brother, Angel himself who’d cradled them after that and wondered if this was why he’d been given two sets of arms. But Husk had just held him, surrounding their little family with his wings, giving them their own safe little world. Protecting, watching, adoring but leaving that distance.

Angel knew that fear reflected in Husk’s eyes, the same one he’d tasted when Lucifer handed him this tiny, terrified and terrifying ball of wet fur that now represented the possibility he’d carried inside himself for nine months.

The words came hard, like they scraped his throat raw on the way out, “I…I don’t know how. Every time I think about trying, I just see myself hurting them…”

Angel’s eyes followed Husk’s, to his long white fingers and the sharp points they ended in. Things that looked like they were made to kill, to threaten penniless rubes into one more hand that would take the last penny in their pocket, to grip a bottle of cheap whiskey. The two of them must be quite the sight, Angel thought. They sure as fuck didn’t look like parents, people fit to guard two miracles. They looked like exactly what they were, a porn star junkie and a washed up huckster, out of their depth and lost before they’d even really begun.

But they were parents. Neither of them had asked for this but Angel had chosen to see it through, Husk had chosen to stay by his side. And more than that, he’d carried him through so many of the roughest parts. Now it was time for Angel to repay the favor.

“Well, let’s figure it out together then?”

It felt like such a small thing, easing forward and resting his hand on Husk’s shoulder, a handful of words. But the look his husband gave him was everything.

It did take a bit of maneuvering, Husk pressing the points of his talons down under Howie and cradling him within them but they managed, Angel’s hands hovering gently underneath. Immediately their son’s unhappy squeaking turned into delighted purring, curling in against Husk’s chest the second he was close enough. A tiny tail thrashed so joyfully it was in danger of tangling in the blanket, a tiny set of wings beat, four limbs grasped hold of Husk’s fur and clung tightly, like this was all he’d been waiting for.

Husk’s expression said the same thing, tears already spilling down his narrow cheeks, “Damn…”

“See?” Angel’s voice was thick with his own tears, his smile so wide it hurt in the best way. He held Bella, who’d refused to be left out, stirring as soon as her brother was lifted up, “We just had to find our own way of doing it.”

“That’s the way it’s gonna be, huh?” Husk chuckled softly, thumb stroking the top of Howie’s head, “Figuring shit out as we go, hoping we can put out the fires we start?”

“Worked for us so fair, ain’t it?” Angel shrugged, grinning crookedly, “One foot in front of the other, try not to fuck it up and when we do…well, we just try and do better next time. Redemption and all that shit.”

Husk looked between Howie in his own arms and Bella in Angel’s, his voice softening, “I don’t know…all the good things in my afterlife have happened to me down here. If someone offered me redemption right now, I’d tell them to go fuck themselves. Nothing they got up there is better than this.”

Angel leaned in close until his head was resting against Husk’s shoulder, his free hand snaking around to rest over the paw that supported Howie’s back, wanting to be touching all of his family.

“No…no, they sure as hell don’t,” he murmured, “And we do deserve this. I know it doesn’t feel like it but we really do. These kids, they’re not a reward or punishment or anyone else’s call. They were our decision. So we deserve this and we need to fight for it like we do.”

He felt Husk’s lips brush the top of his head, pressing a firm kiss there, “You got it, baby. Together?”

Angel grinned entwining their fingers, “Together.”

#huskerdust #huskerdust parent au #hazbin hotel #angel dust #husk #hazbin angel dust #hazbin husk #please reblog and comment!

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minhobgy · 2 days

Note

Thinking about presenting you one of my pups to come watch you two play nice...

Sitting back in a chair while you play and romp on the carpeted floor watching, noticing my pup start to paw and sniff and get all good and hot because of your kitty smell, and wait for you to reciprocate. (he'd be punished if he got all over you when you didn't want it. He's just a pup, after all.)

Then I'd slowly walk over and clip his leash to him for control if he got too rough or you were cumming too soon, tapping him lightly with my boot for permission.

He'd start pawing at you now, each tug at your tiny panties emphasized with the ringing of a bell on them (I don't want kitty getting lost)

And I can tell you're so nervous, the way your little chest tightens when my pup is fully over you and panting for more, the way your face is flushed blood red, the way you're trembling, so I tug at my pups leash making him stop - he whines - and lean down next to you. I stroke your hair and scratch behind your ears, I take your hand and tell you everything will be okay, that you don't need to be scared, that daddy has this under control, and how much I want you to finally have your first litter of kittens.

I wait for you to squeeze my hand, and I squeeze back because you're so good for me. I stand up again and tap my pup again and he continues almost ravenously before I tell him off. Soon enough your kittyparts are exposed and utterly soaked, leaking into my carpet. The smell drives my pup utterly feral and once I release his hardness from the jockstrap I have him in, he immediately ruts into you.

I stand behind, watching your soft little boyhole get taken for the first time, the way it stretches around my pup's length, reveling the sight and the smell of sex. I sing praises to you, cooing you, you're so good, your kittens will be so cute just like you, oh how sweet you sound when your voice is shaky and high. You're so tiny, I can see my pup's tip poke out of your belly and I'm almost jealous I wasn't the one to take you, but that's not how this works.

He jerks into you, his pelvis rubs against your pretty little dick, and when the stimulation is too much, you have your first ever orgasm and it's so good. You're absolutely shuddering, nearly screaming from how impossibly good it feels, your mind breaking around it and your walls clenching and squeezing my pup in just the right ways to make him cum inside of you with a deep growl, filling you up with his fertile seed, successfully breeding you.

When you both come down I send him to his cage. I pull your little panties back up your limp body and wrap you up in your favorite blanket carrying you to your safe place.

I'd tell you did such a good job today, baby boy, how I feel so proud watching you grow into everything you were made to be, how you're finally my perfect kitty. I'll pet and hold you soft and sweetly till you fall asleep in my arms.

omigosh this got me soaked!! id luv for ur pup to breed my virgin cunny n give me a litter !! oh kittens would be soooo cute !! i wan that so so bad !! my cunny needs it !! <33

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 6 hours

Text

My Heart Takes Off on a High-Speed Chase

I'm Bright Baby Blue, Falling Into You

Chelsea!Roy Kent x Coach's Daughter!Reader

4.6k words

Warnings: Language, lying/sneaking around, no Ted Lasso characters except for Roy, fluff & flirting, protective dad, mean girls being mean girls, some spiciness

The alarm was supposed to go off at about four in the morning so you could slip back into your open window before anyone noticed you were out all night. Somehow, it didn’t. Instead, you were woken up by the sound of Roy’s light snores and the faint sunshine beginning to peek through his bedroom window.

“Fuck,” you hissed, glimpsing the clock that announced it was close to six in the morning. “Roy.” You shook his shoulder. “I gotta fucking go.” You sat up and began throwing the blankets off of you, grimacing when the cold morning air hit your bare legs.

A firm grip wrapped around your middle and tugged you back down. “Don’t go, babe,” came a sleepy growl.

Babe. Roy had never called you babe before. Princess, gorgeous, beautiful, sure, but never babe. Something about the little syllable that tumbled past his drowsy lips had your heart pounding louder than you knew the crowd at Stamford Bridge would be that afternoon. Did he mean it? you wondered. Did he mean to call you a name that held so much weight? Something that implied affection and belonging to one another? Fuck, you hoped so.

But this was too much thinking for six in the morning, you decided. So instead, you let out an awkward chuckle and pressed a kiss to his cheek, all warm from being pressed to his pillow all night. “I’ve gotta go,” you huffed as you climbed out of bed.

With a stretch and a yawn, Roy sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His eyes began to brighten as he watched you turn to the pile of discarded clothes on the floor. “Not sick of me already?” he teased, waggling his eyebrows at you.

“Course not.” You couldn’t help but smile as you tugged on the t-shirt Roy had all but ripped off you the night before.

“Good.” He reached out and grabbed your hand so he could tug you back to himself. You stood between his knees, gazing down at him, unable to resist the urge to run your fingers through his dark curls. The way his mouth pulled up in the corners told you he was enjoying your soft touch. “Because I am absolutely not sick of you.” To prove his point, he began planting open-mouthed kisses on your neck, smirking at the way your head rolled back and the little groan that slipped past your lips.

Trying to keep some composure, you placed your hands firmly on his broad shoulders in a half-hearted attempt to shove him off of you. “Stop that,” you grumbled, not really meaning it. “Or I may never leave.”

Rather than stop, he glided his tongue against your skin sinfully slow. “That’s the plan, princess.”

It took a lot of pawing and sloppy kissing and whining and sighing, but the two of you finally managed to put some clothes on and leave Roy’s flat. After laughing and pushing him off of you in the car, you finally climbed back up that tree and through your window, praying to whatever god was out there that your father wasn’t looking outside as you scurried up. You collapsed into your bed with a huff, trying to wipe the stupid smile off your face. How the hell were you supposed to go to Chelsea’s season opener and not act like you were giddy over their gruff midfielder? As sexy as he was when he made you laugh or when you were in bed together, the truth was you never found him more attractive than when he was on the pitch. He’d be wearing Chelsea blue, running circles around opponents, rough and skillful, not to mention the beads of sweat that would drip down all the muscles you’d now seen up close and personal. Fuck, you’d be drooling in the stands for everyone to see.

Against your better judgement, you gravitated towards your number six kit when you finally began to get ready for the day’s match. It wasn’t like this was your first time wearing his name on your back; you had plenty of kits featuring the names of your dad’s players. But this time felt a bit riskier, as though you were broadcasting something to the world. Then again, how could you resist grabbing the blue material with KENT embroidered on the back when his name was slowly becoming imprinted on your heart?

Unsurprisingly, your dad narrowed his eyes at the sight of the familiar number six on your back. “What’s with the kit?” he mumbled, grumpiness in his voice.

You blinked, all faux innocence. “It’s opening day,” you answered simply. “I always wear a kit on opening day, Dad.”

“And what made you pick that one?” His voice was even and low- and positively dangerous.

Still, you shrugged as you stuffed your mobile into your purse. “Just grabbed the first one I saw,” you lied. “Is it a problem?”

Of course it was. You knew it was. You knew you were pushing boundaries and making your dad uncomfortable. He was watching you blur the lines with his star midfielder, a man with a reputation for spending almost as much time in women’s beds as on the pitch. He wasn’t oblivious to your little crush, but it was clear that something was different. Roy was clearly flirting back, clearly distracted every time you were around. It was enough to make any father uneasy.

But he didn’t push. Instead, he simply grunted and grabbed his keys, leading you out to the car. It was a quiet drive to Stamford Bridge, quieter than usual. You chalked it up to the first match of the season; it made you feel far too guilty to believe he was this unhappy with your friendship with Roy.

At least being at the stadium allowed you to feel distracted. You put on your badge and waved to the staff, faces you’d spent years around. Even with your sulking father next to you, you couldn’t help bouncing with excitement. For you, opening day was better than Christmas. It held opportunities and excitement, the promise of a new start.

It also presented the chance to see Roy in his Chelsea kit.

You had been in your dad’s office when he ambled in, the picture of confidence in his black leather jacket. His eyes were immediately drawn to you. With so many people milling around, the most he could do was offer a casual nod of acknowledgement, but you could see the look in his eyes. They were sparkling, full of joy, and you couldn’t help but wonder how much was caused by the dawn of a new season- and how much was caused by you.

Hoping to avoid your dad’s ire, you busied yourself with organizing his already tidy desk, pausing only to steal glances at Roy as he changed. Even with being in bed with him mere hours ago, you fought the urge to sigh contentedly as he peeled off his shirt, exposing his bare chest. As if he knew he had an audience, he took his time digging through his locker for his kit, even stopping to greet a few teammates who passed by. Sure, it all looked natural, like he was just preparing for the match, but the way he slyly quirked an eyebrow before tugging his kit on let you know that yes, he knew you were watching.

“Better head to your seat,” your dad finally mumbled as you handed him his lucky water bottle.

Deciding to play nice, you nodded and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Good luck out there, Dad,” you called as you left the coaches’ office- through the changing room, of course.

“Do I get a good luck kiss?” Roy murmured as you passed him. He busied himself with lacing up his boots, but you could hear the teasing in his voice.

You scoffed, pretending you weren’t wishing you could do exactly that. “As if Roy Kent needs luck.”

He sat up, clearly fighting a smile. “I’m scoring a goal for you today, you know.” Damn, he looked so cocky, with his smirk and the smugness dripping from his voice. And it fucking worked on him. “You can thank me later.” His wink had your knees threatening to buckle.

“Don’t go making promises you can’t keep,” you joked. With the entire team and coaching staff around, the most you could do was lightly punch his arm. “Have a good game, Kent.”

His eyes held yours for a moment, charming arrogance suddenly gone. “With you in the stands? Wearing my kit? Of course it’ll be good.” Another wink had you unable to contain your grin.

You were still smiling as you made your way through the stands to your seat. While your mum and brother were sitting in their usual seats just below the owners’ box, today you sat with some of the wives and girlfriends, right next to Jules’s wife, Katie. She’d called earlier in the week, asking if you’d be at the match- something she didn’t really need to ask- and inviting you to take the ticket a friend of hers had to turn down. Of course, you said yes. You liked Katie; she was easily your favorite of the wives.

She greeted you with a hug and a kiss on your cheek, thanking you for joining her. “Nice kit,” she teased with a wink. Even though you’d never told her about your crush on Roy, she could clearly see your attraction to the midfielder. It was always a little embarrassing how obvious you seemed to be, but now, knowing Roy was pretty infatuated with you in return, it stung a little less.

Still, you rolled your eyes and gave Katie a light shove. “If I had crush on every player whose kit I wore, we’d be in big trouble,” you scoffed, acting as if the name on your back wasn’t special to you.

Katie smiled but seemed to let you off the hook. “Jules had a good time last night,” she finally chirped. “He said you two sat together at dinner.”

Relieved to have a new topic, you nodded eagerly. “He’s always a blast,” you said. “The three of us should hang out sometime.” You meant it; Jules always made you laugh, and Katie was one of the nicest people you knew. You definitely wouldn’t mind more time with them.

“Or we could invite Kent and make it an even four,” Katie suggested slyly.

You narrowed your eyes at her. “Alright, I’m not talking to you for the rest of the day,” you declared, folding your arms and slouching.

With a giggle and an arm wrapped around your shoulders, Katie shook her head. “No! We can’t have that!” She gave you a squeeze. “Especially since I haven’t told you that I talked to my bosses about you.” She waggled her eyebrows. “They’d love to read your work sometime.”

Despite your attempt at pouting, you couldn’t help smiling at Katie. “I still have one more year of school,” you reminded her. “Lots of deadlines and stress. But once I graduate, I’ve got lots of ideas, I swear.”

She nodded eagerly. “Fine, we’ll wait. But you’ve got to promise me first dibs on your debut novel, alright?”

“Alright,” you promised.

The two of you chattered about your writing- which, truthfully, you’d been neglecting lately due to being so wrapped up in Roy- until the team came out to be introduced for the first time for the season. You rose to your feet with the rest of the stadium, shouting and cheering for the men in their blue kits. You chuckled listening to normally reserved Katie shriek her husband’s name; secretly, you wished you could scream Roy’s name just as brazenly. Instead, you settled for clapping and hooting for each player, unable to resist raising your voice a smidge when the announcers called out Roy’s name.

The match started excitingly enough; neither team had scored as the first half approached its end, but there had been some thrilling plays, and Chelsea had come close to scoring more than a few times. But you knew your dad wouldn’t be happy going into halftime with a nil-nil score.

“Come on boys!” you shouted, the way you normally would at training, as if they could hear you over the roar of the stadium.

The ball passed to Roy’s feet as he sprinted down the pitch towards the goal. He was almost a blur, speeding past every player that approached him. In the blink of an eye, he advanced to the goalkeeper and took his shot.

“KENT SCORES!”

You shot to your feet, screaming and throwing your hands in the air. Everyone around you cheered, and Katie joined you in jumping up and down excitedly.

“Atta boy, Kent!” you called out, not bothering to hide your smile as you watched the team embrace him.

“Is that Kent’s girl?” a snide voice behind you asked.

A scoff answered the question. “That’s the manager’s daughter.” You vaguely recognized the voice; it was someone’s girlfriend, a swimsuit model if you recalled. “She’s so not Kent’s type.”

Your face went beet red as you continued your clapping, as if you hadn’t heard the insulting tone in the woman’s voice. Katie clearly also heard, based on the pitiful look she sent your way. She shook her head, as if she were telling you to ignore them. Instead, you focused on the sound of someone’s radio, listening to the excited commentators gush over Roy.

“Kent is positively beaming after scoring Chelsea’s first goal of the season,” they were saying. “And he’s- is he curtsying?”

Your eyes were back on the pitch in an instant. There was Roy, gorgeous in his kit, holding his shorts out like a skirt and giving a little bow- right in your direction. You covered your mouth to keep from laughing out loud; while to everyone else it probably looked like the midfielder was being uncharacteristically silly, you knew this was his signal that his goal had been for you- Chelsea’s princess.

As you and Katie took your seats and watched the teams set for kickoff, Marie, a defender’s wife on Katie’s other side, leaned close. “Do you two know what the hell Kent was doing?” she chuckled with raised eyebrows.

Katie shook her head before turning to you with teasing eyes. “Any idea, princess?”

“No clue,” you hummed, leaning back in your seat and fighting the smile that was forming on your face. Surely, if you kept your mouth shut, Katie would stop staring at you expectantly. When she didn’t, you just rolled your eyes at her. “How am I supposed to know why Kent does what he does?”

She shrugged. “Thought maybe he told you he was planning on it last night.” The referee’s whistle distracted her from the way you nearly choked at her words. “Jules said the two of you were particularly friendly at dinner.”

Relief flooded your chest when you realized she was talking about the team dinner, not your late-night activities with the footballer. “Kent and I are always friendly,” you snorted as you clapped along with everyone else for the team that was now disappearing for halftime. “It’s part of, you know, being friends.”

Katie hummed knowingly but dropped it. However, she still managed to elbow you and waggle her eyebrows when Roy and the rest of the team returned to the pitch for the second half. And she gave a playful little scoff when the match ended- 3-1 in Chelsea’s favor- and Roy raised his hand in your direction. Your fierce blush sure didn’t help things as the two of you stood and began making your way down to the tunnels to wait for the players to emerge from the changing room. You avoided the eyes of the models who’d laughed at you earlier, cringing when you saw them wrap their arms around their freshly showered footballers; some sad little part of you wished you could greet Roy that same way. Instead, you plastered on a smile when Jules approached and gave Katie a small peck on the cheek.

He greeted you with a nod. “Are you joining us on the road next weekend?” He wrapped an arm around his wife. “I know this one could use someone to drive to the match with.”

“If my dad can manage to get me a ticket, I’m in,” you joked, knowing you always had a seat waiting for you.

“I’m sure Kent could get you a ticket.” Jules winked at you. “I think he’s still inside. Decent and fully clothed, unfortunately for you.”

You narrowed your eyes at the footballer and his giggling wife. “Should tell my dad to bench you,” you grumbled. With a wave over your shoulder, you said goodbye to the couple and headed to the coaches’ offices. As you passed by the changing room door, a gruff voice called your name.

Roy waved you over to his locker, only looking away from you to glance towards your dad’s office. Apparently not seeing his manager, he smirked at you playfully as he slid his jacket on over his t-shirt. “You see my goal?”

“Oh, no, I must’ve been in the loo,” you deadpanned. “Was it a good one?”

“Ouch, princess.” He let his eyes wander down your figure for a brief moment. “You comin’ out to celebrate with the team?” The hopefulness in his face was almost enough to make you press him up against a wall and kiss him.

Unfortunately, you had to shake your head. “Don’t think that’s the best idea,” you murmured, gesturing towards your dad’s office.

He nodded, letting his shoulders slump a little. “Yeah, no. Makes sense.” He cleared his throat and leaned against his locker, his bravado reappearing. “How about you leave your window open? Maybe I’ll slip out of the celebration a little early.” He leaned close and lowered his growling voice. “Have our own little celebration.”

“We’ll see.” You flashed him a small grin before turning on your heel to leave the changing room. “Have fun, Kent.” You glanced over your shoulder at him with a quirked eyebrow. “But not too much fun.”

Roy’s smile stayed imprinted in your mind as you met up with your family and offered your dad congratulations on the first win of the season. You sat politely through the expensive dinner he insisted on treating you all to as a way to celebrate, doing your best to ignore how badly you wished you were instead in some club up against his star player. You smiled and laughed as your family discussed the match, which really had been a stellar one for the team. Of course, your blush was hard to hide when your mother brought up how surprising and, in her opinion, charming Roy’s goal celebration had been.

“Don’t know what the hell’s gotten into him lately. Must be a girl,” your dad mumbled as he shoveled a bite of dessert into his mouth. He quirked an eyebrow at you. “Who’s Kent shagging this week?”

Water nearly spurted out of your nose at his question, prompting a curious look from your mother. “Why should I know?” you sputtered, trying to divert yourself with stealing a bit of your brother’s dessert.

Your dad shrugged. “You’re usually up on the gossip with the lads,” he pointed out. “And you two’ve been pretty chummy lately. Come on. What model or actress has he been here, there, and everywhere with these days?”

“We don’t talk about that stuff,” you mumbled, looking down at your fork. “We mostly talk about books and football.”

“Hmm.” Your dad turned to your mum, who was still staring at you. “Doesn’t matter,” he declared with a snicker. “Probably has a new bird on his arm as we speak, right?”

Your mother offered you a tight-lipped smile. “I don’t think we want to spend our dinner speculating about Roy Kent’s love life, do we?” She turned to your brother, who’d been intensely focused on his dessert. “What was your favorite part of the match, love?”

Thanks to your mum’s tactfulness, the rest of dinner was fairly painless. Still, it felt like an eternity before you were free to lock yourself up in your room and wait for a certain burly footballer to sneak in for a clandestine visit.

It was around midnight when you heard your unlocked window creak open. Lying on your tummy, you glanced up from the book you were reading just in time to see Roy stumble into the room; at least he’d finally learned to land on his feet, you noted with a smirk.

“Hey there,” you hummed.

Roy’s eyes widened when saw you on your bed, clad only in a pair of panties and his kit. “Fucking hell,” he groaned as he approached the bed. “What’re you trying to do to me, princess?”

It was kind of nice being the downright smug one for once. “What’s wrong Roy?” you purred, placing your book on your nightstand and giving the footballer your most innocent eyes. “Thought you liked seeing me in your kit.”

He looked almost pained as he sat on your bed and reached out to let his hand wander under your kit to stroke your bare back. “You’re trying to fucking kill me,” he sighed.

You sat up and turned over to face him, devilish smile on your lips. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You’re tempting me to break my rule about keeping my pants on.” He tugged you onto his lap so you were straddling him. He let out a soft grunt when you gave a tiny grind against his quickly growing bulge. “Fuck.”

Roy’s mouth was harsh and hungry against yours as he held you tight against himself. While one hand splayed flat on your back, covering the number six you wore, his other hand snaked up the front of your jersey until it gently groped your breast. Roy moaned quietly into your mouth, starting to squirm beneath you. You tangled your hands in his dark hair, tugging lightly as he began grinding up against you. Your head rolled back as your mouth opened, ready to let out a soft whimper-

KNOCK-KNOCK

You stilled on Roy’s lap, his lips frozen on your jaw. “Yeah?” you called out in a voice that you hoped wasn’t too shaky. When Roy lifted his head to look at you with wide eyes, you immediately brought a hand to cover his mouth.

“You still up, love?” Your dad’s voice was stifled by a yawn. “Kinda late.”

“Just reading,” you answered, shaking your head at Roy frantically. “Can’t sleep.”

Another yawn wafted past the door. “Alright. Don’t stay up too late. Goodnight, I love you, my darling girl.”

Roy’s eyes were full of something almost sympathetic as they searched yours. “Love you too,” you answered, wondering if your dad could hear the nerves in your voice.

The two of you stayed completely still until you heard the distant sound of a door closing with finality. Slowly, you removed your hand from Roy’s mouth and offered him a sheepish shrug.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, stroking the back of his neck gently. You knew he could see the embarrassment on your face.

Roy shook his head and pecked your nose tenderly. “None of that,” he murmured. He leaned you back until you were lying down, then plopped down beside you. He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close. “I think that portion of the evening is officially over,” he chuckled. A kiss found your temple. After a moment he let out a thoughtful little hum. “Are you coming out of town with us this weekend?”

You sighed. “I want to,” you started. “But it’ll be a bit of a bummer to be out of town together and not be able to be… together.”

He was silent for a moment, his face colored with thought. “You just worry about packing a pretty little dress,” he finally said. “I’ll take care of the rest, alright?” He kissed the top of your head. “Don’t you worry about a thing, princess.”

Even though he piqued your curiosity, some part of you liked the idea that Roy wanted to figure out a way to see you, to spend real time with you away from the risk of being recognized in London. He thought you were worth the effort, you realized. And, once again, you couldn’t help but hope that you might mean something to Roy beyond looking good in his kit.

Especially when he gazed at you with something that looked a lot like total adoration.

“Alright, princess.” He narrowed his eyes at you playfully. “Where’s that fucking story your idiot professor hated?”

You wrinkled your nose and shook your head. “It’s late,” you reminded him. “You don’t want to read that right now.”

He chuckled and let his hand drift down to your bare thigh. “I kind of have to. I need a good distraction,” he said in a low, joking voice. “Or else my pants’ll be on the floor and your parents will definitely hear what you’re up to.”

A quiet groan slipped past your lips at the thought of Roy’s implication. “Fine.” You slipped out of bed and tiptoed over to your desk, rummaging through the clutter there until you found the story in question, with its humiliating red marks all over it. Fighting a scowl at the memory of your abrasive professor, you returned to your bed and handed the pages to Roy. “You’re not allowed to make fun of it,” you warned him.

Roy shook his head at you as he sat up. “Never, princess.”

The two of you settled in for some reading; you grabbed your book from the nightstand and nestled against Roy’s chest, relishing the way he lazily wrapped an arm around you as he began reading. Despite your nerves about Roy reading your work- something you didn’t tend to let most guys do, let alone gorgeous footballers- you couldn’t help but enjoy the domesticity of the situation. His chest was warm and comfortable, and he pressed kisses to the top of your head from time to time. You were pretty sure you’d read the same paragraph of your book seven times, but you couldn’t retain a word of it. Not when you had the delicious smell of Roy’s cologne filling your nose and his heart beating just below your ear.

It felt like an eternity before Roy let out a small hum and handed you the pages.

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Well?”

He shook his head as the corners of his mouth tugged upwards. “Fucking hell.” He squeezed you and planted kisses on your face. “My girl is so fucking talented.” With a content grunt, he shifted you onto his lap, your legs straddling him. He held your face between his hands. “You’re fucking amazing, babe.” His brown eyes shone with excitement and pride as he gazed at you. “So fucking amazing.”

Roy’s words were positively dizzying. Between his gushing praise for your writing and the names tumbling from his beautiful mouth- my girl? Babe?- your heart was slamming in your chest. Fuck, you were getting in deeper than you’d imagined you would with Roy Kent. Somewhere along the way, he’d stopped putting up his aloof attitude and had become affectionate and tender; you just worried that you were reading too much into this shift.

But when he pulled you against him for a sweet kiss, all those fears disappeared, at least for the moment.

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