#a widowed father and two young sons | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

venusbyline · 16 days ago

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Sickly ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 14, oct.

— pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x daughter-in-law!reader

— type: smut, angst, Kinktober (House of the Dragon Edition)

— kink: thigh riding

— summary: Motherhood was sickly, sickly enough for a grieving mother to mourn her son's death while kissing her widowed daughter-in-law's lips.

— word count: 3.1k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 14th day, female!reader, Cregan Stark's twin sister!reader, Rhaenyra!mother-in-law, Jacaerys Velaryon's wife!reader, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, thigh riding, nipple licking, lactation kink, fingering, breast worship, overstimulation, crying, disturbing themes, mommy kink, death themes, grief/mourning, mother-son relationship, mother-daughter relationship, praise kink, oral (female receiving) mentioned, vaginal sex mentioned, creampie mentioned, Jacaerys Velaryon's daughter mentioned, labor mentioned, motherhood themes, nightmares, age gap (older woman/younger woman), sexism, implied Targcest (mother/son) BUT NO REALLY, minor Jacaerys Velaryon x reader, implied Rhaenyra Targaryen x Jacaerys Velaryon BUT NO REALLY, mild dark, Joffrey Velaryon lives, canon divergence (the Blacks win the Dance of the Dragons), porn with plot. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @baybaybear1 @blessedbymoon @p45510n4f4shi0n @lina-lovebug @moonnicole @badger-reads

— crossposting: AO3

Rhaenyra Targaryen had crossed a very dangerous line.

She knew better than anyone that in her mind, there was a fine line between acting recklessly or acting so promiscuously. From a young age, Rhaenyra let herself be carried away by the thoughts that arose in her brain — or by the lust that wet the middle of her legs.

She was never the best example of chastity. The furtive glances at Alicent Hightower when they were still best friends, the tameless desire for her uncle Daemon since she was a teenager, the loss of her virginity with Ser Criston Cole, the secret affair with Ser Harwin Strong, the kisses exchanged with Mysaria. And now... the unforgivable thoughts and actions with her daughter-in-law.

It was wrong. She knew it was wrong. It was sickly. Disgusting. She was mourning Jacaerys. You were in mourning. A mother losing her firstborn son and a girl losing her husband and the father of her newborn baby. Two women suffering for different reasons.

Rhaenyra mourned Jacaerys' death, the panic she felt during his birth still fresh in her mind. She was so afraid of dying the same way as her mother Aemma that she did not even allow any man to enter during the labor. She did not want any man around. No presence of Laenor Velaryon, her husband, or Ser Harwin Strong, her lover and biological father of the baby she was carrying. Not even Viserys, her own father, should enter and give his opinion there.

Rhaenyra remembered everything perfectly. When Harwin fucked her and she discovered she was pregnant almost thirty days later, when Harwin was surprised and at the same time worried about the idea of being a father in secret, when Laenor was happy with the news, when Viserys celebrated that he would have a grandchild — believing the baby was the result of Rhaenyra's marriage to her husband.

Rhaenyra remembered the nausea, the tiredness, the strange feeling of her belly growing to adapt to the baby that was developing inside her. Sometimes she wished she had drunk the Moon Tea to avoid it, and other times she was happy at the thought of giving birth to a beautiful little girl. The princess was sure she was carrying a daughter. Just as she wished Aemma had given her little sisters.

The pain during childbirth and the fear of dying made her wish that if anyone in that body had to die, it would be the unborn baby, not her. Rhaenyra Targaryen was still so young and had a long life ahead of her. If the baby died, she could try to have another in the future. Or perhaps not. Perhaps she should never have children, especially when they were outside of marriage. Either way, Rhaenyra was aware that if she had to prioritize her own life or the life of her child, she would not think twice about saving herself. She would not make the same mistake her father made with her mother.

It was a surprise when the baby was finally born. A boy. She had longed for a daughter throughout her entire pregnancy, trying to hold on to the possibility that having a daughter would be like being able to follow her mother's footsteps, but without that tragic ending.

Her mild disgust at the midwives' enthusiasm that she had a healthy boy soon changed to panic when she noticed the small thinning strands in the baby's hair. Even though he was so tiny in her arms, she could clearly see that he would have dark hair like his biological father, the Targaryen blood not being so strong anymore.

But now, so many years after that desperate night, Rhaenyra cursed herself for three reasons: for having cared so much about Jacaerys' damned hair color, for having despised him for a few days until she got used to the new routine of being a boy's mother and not a girl's mother, and especially because she said at that time that she would not save Jacaerys during labor.

She would do anything to go back in time and never have thought about that. Now, Rhaenyra would do anything to die in every cruel and painful way possible if it was enough to bring her firstborn back.

Rhaenyra and Jacaerys had built a mother-son relationship over the years. It was not automatic like it was with Lucerys, Joffrey, Aegon III and Viserys II. It was not even like the few seconds with her Visenya. She did not love Jacaerys immediately like she did her other children. She did not long for his life. She was a mother for the first time and each particularity of her connection with Jacaerys was created little by little. She learned to love him and she learned to protect him.

Rhaenyra learned almost everything about being a mother. But she never thought she would need to learn to live without her first son.

As for you, there was a painful feeling also rooted in your chest. It was not the same as what the queen felt, it bordered more on concern than guilt. You had nothing to blame yourself for.

When your twin brother, Cregan Stark, used you as a bargaining chip to ensure Rhaenyra's steadfast loyalty to the Northmen, you were not even surprised. That is what you and all the noble ladies were made for. Always used to bargain alliances and produce heirs.

Like brood mares, no woman had the right to say no.

Cregan was a good brother, despite everything. At least he had kept you in Winterfell until a truly necessary and promising betrothal came. Jacaerys Velaryon, the heir to the Iron Throne if Rhaenyra won the Dance of Dragons, would have you as his wife, and in exchange for that, the Blacks would protect the North and provide more resources for the harsh winter. It was a fair exchange and it would ensure that they would not simply ignore the treaty at any time. Lord Stark was a man of his word and demanded the same from Jacaerys' family.

You understood his reasons. It was better to marry someone kind and caring than an old and rude random lord who saw you as just a fertile young woman to produce heirs.

It did not take long for you to love Jacaerys. He was so handsome and affectionate trying to make you feel comfortable in Dragonstone, that you even kissed him a few days before the wedding ceremony, and you were not at all afraid of the consummation of the marriage. It was incredible. Especially when you noticed how shocked Jace was when you closed your legs around his hips, pushing his cock even deeper, allowing him to spill his seed inside your cunt. He did not want you to feel used just to procreate, he did not want it to be a sacrifice.

Jace did not plan on having heirs anytime soon. He wanted you to fuck with him because you liked it, because he gave you pleasure. But never out of duty.

And you enjoyed every second. You never had to fear what would happen to you if his seed did not take fast. Just as you never had to fear how he would react if you gave birth to a girl and not a man heir. Sometimes you even thought he longed more for a daughter. After all, he had lived with brothers his entire life and had never even met his little sister Visenya, who was stillborn. If the baby was a girl, he would name it after his sister. If it were a boy, he would name him after his younger brother Lucerys.

You never had to fear many things when you were married to Jace. However, you always feared for his safety. And, Gods... You were right to do that.

Now, even after Queen Rhaenyra's victory, you feared what would happen to you and your newborn daughter. You were afraid that the Blacks would break the treaty since you were just a widow of a dead heir. You feared what would happen to your people if Rhaenyra went back on her word. You feared what would happen to your daughter Visenya now that her father was dead. Rhaenyra would reign for many years to come, but what would happen to her granddaughter? You were not someone who was greedy, but you did not know if Rhaenyra would name Joffrey as the next heir to the Iron Throne, or if she would let Visenya reign in the future.

If your daughter's succession to the Throne was not considered, you feared that she would hate you or her father's family. If she were named as the legitimate heir, precisely because she was the eldest granddaughter and the result of the marriage of Rhaenyra's murdered firstborn, you feared that Joffrey would hate Visenya and you, as well as his own mother. You feared yet another war between family members. Another Kinslayer, just like Aemond Targaryen.

You feared what Jacaerys' absence would do to your and Visenya's lives in the not-so-distant future.

You and Rhaenyra felt different emotions about Jace's death, but both of you loved him and cried every night missing him.

It was not a surprise when Rhaenyra began to comfort you through your routine nightmares, all that involving the death of your dead husband. Rhaenyra also had nightmares every day. Always about her family's deaths.

She had regained what was rightfully hers, but at what cost?

It was not a surprise to her when you started hugging her while you had crying spells after dreams. It was not a surprise to you when she let you cry on her shoulder. It was not a surprise to her when you begged her to think about your daughter Visenya's future. It was not a surprise to you when she asked for forgiveness for not being enough to protect Jacaerys.

None of this was surprising or unexpected. Not even when the nighttime cuddles intensified. When caressing your hair and hugs were no longer enough. When Rhaenyra began pressing you against her full heavy breasts as you cried. When you started to put your hands under the nightgown Rhaenyra wore and caressed her soft skin.

It was wrong. Very wrong. It was sickly. It was disgusting and repulsive. It was too cruel to the memory of Jacaerys. How would the boy feel if he knew his mother was fucking his own wife?

Neither of you had any way of knowing the answer. Jacaerys was dead, after all. He never returned from the Battle of the Gullet. He and Vermax had been hooked like fishes and engulfed by the waves of the sea — Always wanting so much to have pure blood, to be legitimate... To end up just being a Velaryon rotting inside the ocean. It was ironic and you could not tell if it honored him as a Velaryon or just proved that the Strong blood running through his veins had cursed him, the last moments of his life in the middle of the place where a true Velaryon would belong, but never a bastard.

Rhaenyra hated herself for wanting you. You hated yourself for wanting her. Jacaerys would hate the two of you for this. And yet, both of you could not deal with the grief any other way. You needed each other.

You loved Jacaerys. You loved your late mother, Gilliane Glover, who died so soon after you and Cregan were born. You did not have time to live with her, just as Rhaenyra did not have time to live with her stillborn daughter.

You had lost your husband. Rhaenyra had lost her son. You needed a mother. Rhaenyra needed a daughter.

It was disgusting, very wrong. It was sickly. And you could not stop. You did not want to stop. It was the only way to deal with Jacaerys's grief and keep the boy's memory alive in your minds.

"How was the nightmare tonight?" Rhaenyra asked softly as you sat on her lap, your teary eyes closing. You let her wrap her arm around your waist, your hips bigger after you gave birth to your daughter Visenya.

"About the sea. About pain. About blood... About him." Your voice came out trembling and muffled, your face buried between her breasts, so full and heavy that you could barely breathe, even if you did not make the slightest effort to move away. You wished she still had milk to breastfeed you like your mother had done. She wished she still had milk so she could breastfeed you like she had done with Jacaerys. Like she should have done with her Visenya, if the little baby had not been born dead.

The content of the nightmares that tormented your mind was nothing new. They were always about death, just like Rhaenyra's. And she always wanted to know yours. She always wanted you to tell her what you had dreamed of. But she never shared her own nightmares. And everything was fine. You did not really want to suffer over Rhaenyra's thoughts either. Were you too selfish for not wanting that? Perhaps. And perhaps she was too masochistic, always wanting you to explain every detail that haunted you in the early hours of the morning and disturbed your sleep.

You did not mind telling her. It felt good to share all of this with someone who understood. It was good to seek comfort from a mother.

Rhaenyra moaned when she felt your tongue circle her pink nipple, your teary eyes made you look like a child being soothed by a mother's breast.

She stroked your hair, thanking the Gods that you did not have silver or blonde hair. Thanking the Gods that Alicent did not let her marry Jacaerys to Helaena Targaryen. Thanking the Gods for allowing Jacaerys to annul his betrothal to Baela Velaryon when Lord Cregan Stark demanded that his army's loyalty would only be agreed upon if the prince married his twin sister.

She could never seek that comfort from Helaena. Her sister had always been too pure for her own good. And Helaena was too much like Rhaenyra herself. She could not picture Jacaerys in Helaena's place because of her hair.

Just as she could not seek comfort from Baela. Her stepdaughter had Laena's appearance and the rebellious and tameless personality of her ex-husband Daemon.

Joffrey had the same dark hair as his older brother, but you... You were everything she needed. You had dark hair like Jacaerys and you were a girl like her stillborn daughter. You were everything she wanted currently. A daughter. But also a concubine.

"It feels good?" Rhaenyra questioned when her hands went down to your nipples, sensitive from your lack of breastfeeding. You did not breastfeed Visenya often, preferring that she be fed by a wet nurse. Looking at her reminded you of Jacaerys and that made the moment difficult. Your milk would dry up quickly if you continued looking for Rhaenyra and leaving your daughter aside. You knew you needed to act like a mother, however, you liked to enjoy your time like Rhaenyra's daugther and affair.

You did not judge Rhaenyra for imagining her son licking her breasts when you did that. You knew she had never seen him in a sexual way. It was an innocent nostalgia, even if you were also pressing her other breast while memories of Jacaerys filled her mind. She wanted her eldest son back. You wanted your husband back. She wanted to feel you the same way her son felt you. And you wanted to feel every inch of the woman who gave birth to the man you loved.

You nibbled on her nipple after gasping as Rhaenyra she placed a hand on your mound, squeezing it rough enough to make your breast milk start to flow out. "Good girl..." She growled softly, admiring your embarrassed smile.

Rhaenyra ran her fingers through the milk before bringing it down between your legs, rubbing the liquid into your already wet folds. "N-Nyra..."

"Mother." The Queen corrected while you squirmed under her touch. Your milk was supposed to be to feed Visenya. And here you were, letting your mother-in-law rub it on your clit. It was so disgusting and depraved. Motherhood was a sick thing.

"M-Mother..." You whimpered the way Rhaenyra suggested, even though the word brought a bitter taste to your mouth. Was this how she felt whenever she was eating you out? Did she pictured her son cumming inside your cunt so many times at the beginning of the marriage, filling you with his seed until it flowed, the same way his biological father had done to her in secret? Was this how Rhaenyra felt whenever you rubbed your face between her large breasts? Did she remember how difficult it was to get used to breastfeeding her firstborn? Was this how she felt now with her hand wet with your milk? Why did not she hate you, already knowing you would rather her do that than force you to breastfeed your daughter Visenya, while she did not even have the chance to feed her Visenya?

You wanted to know if she also felt disgusted by it all. You wanted to know if motherhood was really that sick for her too.

You wanted to know a lot of things, and you chose not to ask any of them. Ignorance was bliss. The answers were on both of your faces. The way she moaned as you pushed your fingers hard into her cunt, fucking the tight walls that had once dilated so baby Jacaerys could come into the world. The way your breast milk that was supposed to feed Jacaerys' little daughter had a different use now, soaking your own cunt as you took advantage of the additional liquid to ride harder against Rhaenyra's thick thigh.

You both felt sick and dirty, mentally begging for Jacaerys' forgiveness as you came, moaning each other's name. Your fingers were still inside her and your sensitive and sore clit was still pressed against her soft white skin, your cum and milk running down her thigh, while Rhaenyra kept your face against her chest.

"Thank you, Mother, thank you..." You sobbed, making no move to get off of her or release her walls. You wanted to prolong the feeling of self-loathing, enjoying the overstimulation of having your bud pulsing along with the continuous tremors of your body, just as Rhaenyra was enjoying feeling your trembling hand inside her, the four motionless fingers spreading her cunt like if you were preparing her for labor. Jace's birth or yours, you could not say. Both, perhaps.

"I love you, my dear daughter. My new daughter." Rhaenyra kissed the top of your head, caressing your dark hair. It was true. You were everything that kept Jace's memory alive in her mind. She loved her firstborn and she loved you in a sick way. After all, motherhood was sickly, sickly enough for a grieving mother to mourn her son's death while kissing her widowed daughter-in-law's lips.

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babygorewhore · 3 months ago

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•Be good for me•

Cooper Adams x fem reader!

Requested by @horrorpiggy I gave it my own spin so I really hope you enjoy!!!!

A harmless crush on single father Cooper Adams wasn’t in your plan. But after being invited to a concert one Saturday afternoon, everything changes.

Warnings! Age gap! Cooper is 45 and reader is 25! Depicting anxiety and panic attack! Blacking out! Daddy kink! Oral!Fem receiving! Finger sucking! Unprotected sex! Choking! Size kink! Praise! Light ish degrading but not really? Slight hint of his second life at one point. Multiple orgasms! Barely proofread!

Spending a Saturday with a recently widowed father and his teen daughter wasn’t exactly your typical weekend. But if you were being honest with yourself, you’d seize any opportunity to spend time with Cooper.

It was just a crush. One that started out because he saved you and your parent’s life from a fire last year. He had effortlessly pulled you over his shoulder and hauled you out of the burning apartment while you were half unconscious.

It was inconvenient in many ways. One, he was twenty years older than you. Two, he had two children and three his wife had been brutally murdered a few months ago by the infamous serial killer the Butcher.

He seemed devastated. Not just for his own loss but the children. After he saved you from the fire, time had passed and you became an occasional babysitter for his son.

Obviously with a crush growing, you loved the times you’d see him but it felt wrong. At his wife’s funeral, his children hugged you and thanked you for being there.

Lady Raven was a popular artist that was constantly playing at his house. Your knees pressed together as you sat in the back of the car, watching Riley and Cooper interact.

You looked away when you caught him look at you through the rearview mirror.

“I just want to say; thanks again for coming with us. I know you’re busy with classes and your part time job. But it means a lot to us.” His deep voice sent shivers down your spine but you gave him a smile.

“Oh! No problem. Thank you for even inviting me.” You blushed as his dark eyes scanned over you as you all fell into silence while he parked.

It was a little difficult to keep up with him as you three jogged to the stadium and maneuvered around the growing crowd of people. It made you feel nervous to be in such tight spaces with others.

As time went by, you noticed Cooper growing more agitated and tense but he was trying to force positivity for Riley. Your heart started to accelerate as the music echoed. You cleared your throat as heat warmed you. The black shirt was extra long, reaching your knees covering your shorts.

Your vans squeaked as the light shifted to red and the cheering young girls screamed. The sounds throbbed in your ear as you rapidly blinked.

“Are you okay?” You gasped at the close proximity of Cooper. He was bending down closer to you with a concerned look on his handsome face.

“Yeah! I’m just a little nervous around crowds.” You force yourself to laugh but he doesn’t return the expression.

“You look like you’re about to collapse. Maybe we should find somewhere more relaxed.” You look at Riley, who was losing her mind and jumping around. You shook your head, feeling guilty.

“I couldn’t pull you away. She’s having so much fun.”

Cooper remained silent and you faced the stage again. Your body grew more tense as the minutes passed and your hands were shaking. Your mouth went dry as a few shoulders bumped into you as a guest artist walked through the aisle.

You tried to remain calm but the staff came and told you three that Riley would be the dream girl. She would be going on stage. You would have to go in front of everyone.

Your legs trembled as you followed them closely. The eyes on you made you feel even worse. The bright lights, your clothes suddenly felt too tight as you walked up the stairs. It took all your strength to remain standing as Riley finished the section of the concert with Lady Raven.

You jolted as a large hand came and settled across your forehead. Cooper’s head was tilted and he narrowed his eyes at you. “You’re burning up but you’re shivering. I think we need to find a place for you to sit down.”

Riley was walking towards you both when your eyesight finally faded.

You were pulled off your feet. You could feel what was going on but you weren’t able to open your eyes yet. Cooper was carrying you, his muscular arms encasing you against his chest. You came to as he sat you down in a chair. A few medical members were gawking at him as he knelt down, holding a compress to your face.

“You blacked out. You were having a panic attack and you were about to fall. Just stay still, okay?”

You don’t have the energy to speak yet but Cooper moves a stray hair out of your face and leans in closer. “You need something with calories. You haven’t eaten all day, I bet.” He gives you a knowing look.

“Is she your girlfriend?” One of the nurses ask and you feel sobered immediately. But to your surprise, Cooper doesn’t say no to her.

Instead he stands up, swiftly returning with a small box of juice.

He presses the straw to your lips and encourages you to take a sip. “Atta girl, good job. You’ll be feeling better in a few minutes. Glad I kept an eye on you, sugar.” The term made your pulse quicken.

“Is there any way we can get out of here quickly? I don’t think she needs a hospital but I do want to take her home.” Cooper asks the nurses and you faintly hear them tell him a way out peacefully.

“I don’t want to be a problem.” You whisper and Cooper clicks his tongue.

“Isn’t she the sweetest? Doesn’t want to cause trouble.” Cooper reaches down and sets a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m okay, I can stand now.” You insist but he cups your waist. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth as you feel his sweater pressed against you, his lips lingering next to your ear.

“Always so insistent. But you’re gonna let daddy help you. Aren’t you, little one?”

You could have melted right then and there. You almost sure you were fucking dreaming but the dangerous look in his eye was all too real. His graveled voice was alluring and made your core tighten.

You were speechless as he walked next to you still holding your torso. It was surreal.

“Why are there so many police officers?” Riley asked and Cooper shrugged.

“Nothing to worry about. We’re getting out of here. Can’t have another blackout, can we?”

“Please, I really don’t want to intrude further.” You pleaded as Cooper ushered you into the house.

“Shh, none of that. I insist. I’m not going to take a chance that you fall alone in your apartment. You’re going to stay here tonight. Besides, the kids love having you here.” He seemed electrified as he pressed his palm to your back.

“You’re going to eat something and then rest. It’s the least I can do since you help me all the time.”

You didn’t bring up the comment he made earlier but you did notice the way he had a hint of a smirk the entire evening. He seemed off on the ride home. The way he gripped the steering wheel made his arm quiver.

Cooper never showed a hint of anger. He was always patient. Sometimes silly with the kids but today there was something different.

Your body was covered by a blanket on the couch a few hours later. Riley and her brother were upstairs in bed. Cooper had disappeared a few minutes ago, promising to come back soon.

Unable to stay still anymore, you made your way to the spare bedroom and groaned. You didn’t have any clothes to sleep in and you rubbed your face with your hands.

“You always do that when you’re frustrated.” You shrieked and spun around.

Cooper stood in the doorway. His shoulders were tense, fingers curled into his fists and he closed the door behind him. His hair was smoothed back.

“You scared the fuck out of me.” You breathed.

“There’s not much I can do about that habit I’m afraid. Being able to walk quietly took some practice. How are you feeling?” He leaned against the wall and your gaze flickered over his face.

“I’m okay. I just want to apologize. I’m sorry if I made the concert stressful. Sometimes my anxiety gets out of control. I should have just found a way home. I didn’t mean to cause any extra stress-“ You rambled on and Cooper's lips quirked into a smile.

“You have nothing to apologize for. In fact, it worked out in a way. We didn’t have to go through the police. All thanks to you.” He took a step forward and your stare widened.

“Cooper. Are you alright?”

His movements continued until his shoes were against your bare feet. “I’ve never been better, sweetheart. I just want to ask you to do something to me.” He rolled his neck before his hands settled on your shoulders.

“I want you to be a good girl tonight. Can you be a good girl for me, little one? You're gonna let me take care of you?”

Your mouth parted and he took the opportunity to swipe his thumb across your lower lip.

“Don’t act surprised. I see the way you look at me. And I really would appreciate it if you didn’t lie about it, baby doll.” You gasped and he gently touched your tongue. Sticking his thumb further in your mouth.

Your lips gently wrapped around and sucked. His eyes fluttered and he removed his hand. Cooper took the opportunity to grab the back of your head, pulling you up and he crushed his lips to yours.

He tasted sweet as his tongue darted in and swept over your teeth. It wasn’t too much. His experience obvious by the age gap as he backed you against the bed. Coopers strength was surprising as he easily pressed you down on the mattress. He nibbled your lip before pulling away and peppered kisses along your jaw. Your legs looped around his waist and your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders.

“You gonna let me eat that pretty pussy?” He questioned against your skin and you whined. Cooper trailed his lips down your chest, stomach and finally his thick fingers pulled down your shorts. He sucked in a sharp breath as he admired your underwear.

“Anyone ever done this to you?” He toyed with the waistband and you cleared your throat.

“Not-not really. They didn’t put any effort.” You stuttered.

Cooper peeled off your panties, exposing your pulsing cunt and he didn’t waste any further time. He shoved his face against your pussy, making you throw your head back. His tongue kitten licked your clit and then flattened. He slowly dragged it down and shoved it inside you. The feeling was overwhelming as you turned your head to the side, trying to suppress loud noises that were desperate to escape you.

“This is what you get for being a good girl,” Cooper praised, his hands holding your thighs apart as he spit on your cunt. He sucked your center into his mouth, your hips rolling as he moaned against you.

“You taste so good. Can’t get enough. I’m gonna make you cum on my face.”

He applied more pressure and enthusiastically licked your wetness. His nose was firm against your pussy and your nipples were so hard they hurt.

“Daddy I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!” You managed and the uncoiling of your stomach sent a shock through your body. Your fingers sank into his hair, humping his jaw as Cooper continued to suck your clit.

It was overwhelming and he added to it by adding two fingers. He curled them deep and tears clouded your vision.

“Daddy-please-“ You whispered and he snarled. His enormous hands and brute strength aided his ability to effortlessly flip you over on your stomach.

Cooper pulled you to your knees, pushing your chest down so your ass was sticking in the air. He gave it a harsh slap and you heard his belt unbuckle. Your cunt was aching and cum smeared on your inner thighs. You felt the leather of the belt wrap around your throat but panic didn’t set in. It wasn’t tight enough to cause too much pain but it was pressure to keep you still.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you like this? Leashed like a god damn puppy? So eager to please me? I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t even see straight. You’re gonna be stuffed full of cum.” His filthy words made you groan.

Cooper ran the tip of his dick along your slit, his precum coating your clit. He pushed it into you and he held you up by the belt. Your body jerked as he thrusted his hips. You felt like splitting in the middle but all discomfort vanished as he toyed with your bud.

“I like seeing you fucking helpless. That’s my good girl. Taking my cock so well. Squeezing me so hard. Don’t worry, daddy’s not gonna pull out.” You rocked back into him in a harsh rhythm. He pounded into you almost anomalistically. His huge body caged you in and Cooper choking you only added to the pleasure.

“Cream on it. Fucking cream on my dick. I know you can.” He commanded and you cried as another orgasm neared.

“Tell me who’s in control, doll.” He ordered and you repeated the worse hoarsely.

Your second climax came and hit you like a storm. Cooper huffed and grunted as his cock twitched inside you and ropes of his cum sprayed your insides. It gave him more slip to fuck you through it.

He hauled you on his lap, letting go of the belt and he turned you to face him. Your thighs on either side as he set you on his dick. Cooper's eyes were black with lust as he palmed your tits.

“So greedy, keeping this pussy from me? You just fucking wait till I stop going easy on you. I have so much-so much I need to take out on you.” Your head lulled back as you bounced on his shaft.

Your hands balanced on his chest and your mouth hovered above his. “You feel so good,” You admitted and Cooper smiled hazily. His hands traveled and cupped the back of your ass. It would have normally embarrassed you that you weren’t able to last longer but it only a few minutes passed before another orgasm sent you over the edge.

“You look so god damn pretty. Even prettier than if you were-“ He jerked his jaw as you gently cupped his face. Cooper must have been surprised by your gentle display because he pressed a swift kiss to your palm.

“My sweet girl. Doing such a good job. I’m so proud of you for taking it,”

Tagging @xxbimbobunnyxx @redhead1180 @horrorpiggy @stillwjk-channie-lixie @waywardtigersandwich @id-rather-be-in-middle-earth @agirlthatreadsfanfics @rubyfruitjungle @r0se20 @cherryinterlude @the-ghost-code @wildgirllz @nemesyaaa @redpillbluepill @dumbass-sappho-stan @velvrei @faelvz @nightwingfilm @sararuno @oceanblvd111 @mooneylou

#Gorey writes #Cooper Adams #cooper Adams smut #cooper adams x reader #trap #Trap 2024 #Cooper Adams Trap #Trap Josh Hartnett #Josh Hartnett #Josh Hartnett cooper adams #Josh Hartnett smut #Josh Hartnett character smut #slasher #slasher fic #slasher smut #m night shyamalan

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doctorwhoandfairytaillover · 3 months ago

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Loving Arms (2)

Summary: The children of Viserys I from his wife Alicent Hightower had always been lacking in affection from their parents. They simply didn't realize how much until their widowed aunt was brought into their lives. (AU where Alicent has an older sister and her kids get the love that they deserve, takes place some time after the Driftmark event)

Part II: Family Dinner

A/N: No pairings as of right now as I want to focus on the familial and platonic relationships with Greens when they're still quite young. (credit for the divider goes to @kawaii-lau)

The royal family were not ones to eat a meal together often; typically dinner consisted of Alicent, Helaena, and Aemond. Or Otto and Alicent, even simply Aemond and Helaena. But rare was the occurrence that Aegon would sit at the table to dine with his family and that all members, apart from his Majesty the King Viserys, would choose to eat with one another.

Of course, the elder Hightower daughter was unaware that it was solely due to her arrival that all were seated at the table.

The meal itself was sumptuous; fresh venison on a bed of roasted vegetables, bread straight from the oven, a hearty stew, and a variety of sweet cakes and treats. All things that (Y/N) did not hesitate to eat from her plate, famished from her weary travels.

It was quiet, save for the occasional scrape of knives and the clink of forks or spoons.

"Well," Alicent smiled. "Isn't it lovely that we can all come together and eat as a family after so many years apart. If only Gwayne was here as well, then it would be similar to our youth, don't you think (Y/N)?"

Her older sister offered a tense smile, "I suppose it is a bit like our childhood. I am surprised you still remember any of it since you were quite young at our last family gathering."

"It comes and goes, because as you say, I was quite young when... when our mother passed," Alicent smiled at her children and all three straightened. "But I am reminded of it when I spend time with my sons and daughter."

"Then I am sure she barely remembers then," Aegon muttered and earning himself a kick to leg from Aemond.

"Behave!" the younger scolded.

Otto cleared his throat and the boys sat up in their chairs once more.

"Let us move past all this," the Hand said. "No need to trouble ourselves with the nonsense of remembering bygones and look to the future. Keeping our family strong and well established.

"Hear, hear!" Alicent agreed while lifting her chalice in agreement.

His oldest daughter couldn't help but laugh at her father's words and shook her head.

"Did you find any humor in my words, daughter?" he asked.

The tone in which he spoke, seemed to trigger something in Alicent as she shrunk back in her seat and looked to the meal in front of her. Her older sister, on the other hand stared straight ahead to their father.

"I find it amusing that you say that, Father" (Y/N) said while cutting into her venison. "You didn't seem to find the notion of family all that important when you left behind two orphaned children in Oldtown for your elder brother to deal with."

A sweeping silence fell over the table.

"Or am I wrong?" she asked. "Mother had recently passed when you left Gwayne and I behind at Oldtown, taking only our dear Alicent with you. She was your favorite after all."

"Do not start with me, (Y/N)!" Otto scolded. "You know your brother was being raised to someday lead Oldtown in my stead."

"What about your recently disfigured daughter? Why was she left behind?" she asked. "Or were you too ashamed that my face would make you a laughingstock. When as your oldest daughter, I should have also been allowed to accompany you to find an advantageous marriage as well."

"Do not speak nonsense, (Y/N)." Her father grumbled, "It was to your benefit that you stayed behind, otherwise you would have never been able to marry your husband. I have always looked to ensure our family would be well off."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, a soft frown marring her features. Her father's response seemed to aggravate her more than she let on, as she stood up from her seat, scraping it heavily against the floor.

"I think I will retire to my chambers for the evening," she turned to smile softly at her nephews and niece. "I will see all of you early tomorrow morning, I have a few things that I brought you three from Dorne."

She turned stiffly to her younger sister and father, "Good night!"

The clicking of her heels against the floor echoed as she left the room, and the Targaryen siblings looked to one another before turning their gaze to their mother and grandsire.

"May we be excused, Mother?" Aemond asked politely.

Alicent looked to be apprehensive, but her father wanted to have a word with her and waved the trio off. Muttering to himself in annoyance over his eldest daughter's words and behavior that evening.

Aegon was quick to pull his younger brother and sister from their seats, hoping that he could avoid either of the adults minds from allowing them to step away. Knowing that they would attempt to stop the siblings if they knew that they would chase after their aunt.

"Come on, come on!" Aegon urged with a giggle, hurrying to catch up with (Y/N).

Something soft bubbled beneath Aegon's chest and he could not remember a time he had felt this way since his childhood had been marred by maltreatment, neglect, and unkind words. But seeing his own aunt stand up for herself, not letting his grandsire excuse himself for his callous actions of the past, it lit a small feeling of hope that perhaps someone could understand.

And he didn't want to let that feeling go.

Aemond was struggling through his own internal torment and insecurity. He did not want to get his hopes up that his aunt would understand his feelings about feeling othered and scorned for his appearance that was he felt was no fault of his own, but he knew that he truly wanted to know.

No, he needed to know if there was someone else like him.

Helaena, perhaps did not feel as conflicting emotions as that of her older and younger brothers, but she also felt that things would soon change with the presence of their outspoken aunt. Words had often failed her, those closest to her rarely were able to understand the young princess even when she was direct with her words. But now... now here was this woman, that was clear and did not mince her words and let her thoughts be known.

She wanted to learn from this woman that was not afraid to be herself.

And there, standing alongside her sworn guard was (Y/N) as she intended to ready herself in her chambers.

But almost collectively the three shouted, "Muña!"

She turned to them and as soon as her soft eyes fell on their figures.

She smiled.

And it was then, the three were absolutely certain that they needed her to be a permanent fixture in their lives.

A/N: And that concludes part 2! 🥳 Please let me know what you all think, I am honestly super pumped to continue this series.

PS. If your name doesn't show up highlighted, I am not able to tag you properly for some reason.

Tag List:

@minaxcarter, @hotleaf-juice, @pikomin, @deltamoon666, @cococrazy18, @firefairy, @dracaryxzs, @snowbunny58, @lacherrysouldy, @only4thefics, @queen-luna-007, @ambrivertenergy, @kayllineb12, @minejungwoo, @delaynew, @agustdeeyaa, @hueanhdang

#x reader #x reader insert #house of the dragon x reader #x aunt reader #aegon x reader #aemond x reader #platonic #helaena x reader #loving arms series

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bumblesimagines · 18 days ago

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Longing

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Old feelings are ignited when a childhood friend arrives at Kings Landing to help the war cause.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical GoT/HOTD warnings, references to vizzy t and Alicent's marriage, Alicent trying to justify what happened to her, free my girl from the clutches of the show writers who seem to think she has no trauma from being married to Viserys

This had been sitting in my drafts for a whileeee

~~~

With each quiet inhale and exhale, the strong scent of incense and smoke filled her senses, soothing and familiar. It filled her head with fading memories of all the times she prayed beside her mother back as a little girl when the Keep seemed so big and intimidating and she'd yet to find a friend in Princess Rhaenyra. Her mother always reminded her to trust in the Faith, in the Seven, for they were always listening. And perhaps they were, seeing as she'd prayed almost daily for the safe return of their soldiers and they'd only returned wounded.

Her eyes parted and she swallowed thickly, her hands clutching the skirts of her dark green dress as she rose onto unsteady feet, thoughts about the Gods and their opinions of her consuming her mind. It would hardly count as sin, she hoped, to pray for the return of a man whose face she's scarcely recognized.

Her husband was dead, thus leaving her a widow meaning she could think of others without the guilt of being tempted. But a part of her still couldn't help but be consumed by that sinful guilt; after all, there'd been many a time she'd silently wished ill upon her husband so the dashing knight she thought of so often may save her.

The knight of her dreams seemingly consumed her every waking moment, even then as she strolled out of Baelor's Sept and descended the stairs toward the awaiting carriage. She remembered him vividly from the times she accompanied her father on visits to Oldtown, eager to see her family and the place she would've called home if her father had been anyone else but Hand.

In those times, Gwayne's hair was longer and rested over his forehead in curls that resembled her own but what she remembered most of her brother was his closest companion: (Y/N) (L/N), one of her uncle's many wards who'd quickly become Gwayne's partner in crime.

She'd been fairly young then and with her mind alight with tales of knights and damsels, her imagination and hopes ran wild once her cheeks lit ablaze and her typical shyness heightened around him. He'd still been a boy, merely a lord's son with dreams of being a warrior, but he learned the way of the sword swiftly and Alicent oft' thought of the many ways he'd use the sword to save her.

Part of her had hoped he'd object at her wedding, that he'd rise and declare his love for her but instead, she watched him laugh with Gwayne and the other knights and dance with different ladies throughout the feast.

It'd surprised her when a wave of giddiness and anxious anticipation washed over her when she heard the news he'd be amongst the soldiers riding for the Keep to serve under Criston Cole's command. She'd been relieved to see her brother after so many years, of course, but to know he'd be there too and she'd finally see him in all his dashing glory compared to little else. Her presence in the courtyard that day had been brushed off as a sister waiting for her brother but her eyes had remained locked on him when he entered on his horse, his head held high and his expression calm.

It'd saddened her when they'd hardly had more than two days to speak before Criston led them off to their first small battle, and the sickening news he'd been injured in battle reached her through a letter from Gwayne. Despite herself, she'd managed to keep her distance and only politely ask about him as any good queen would but her worry and need to see him bested her.

Upon returning to the safe walls of the Keep, Alicent dismissed her handmaidens to return to other duties before she began the walk to the temporary bedchambers he'd been given whilst he fought for her son's claim. She knocked twice with her knuckles and twisted the handle to step inside, her eyes sweeping over the room before they focused on him and the young maester unwrapping the bandages around his waist. The maester dipped his head in greeting and resumed his task.

"Your Grace," (Y/N)'s voice rumbled and sent a chill down her spine. He regarded her with a polite yet warm smile that made her head feel fuzzy. "Are you in need of something?"

"I simply wished to check you were recovering swiftly," Alicent responded and gave the maester a small nod, her feet guiding her closer to him until the subtle smell of soap still clinging to him reached her nose. The maester stood and bent at the waist, offering her the fresh roll of bandages before taking his leave. "I hear it was an unexpected attack."

"Yes, it was," He nodded, watching her brush her palm over the back of her dress as she sat down beside him on the couch. His arm lifted and rested along the back of the couch, drawing her eyes to his shirtless upper body. "But we fought well, even if Cole is rather... inexperienced in commanding an army. I suppose I wouldn't be any different if I were in his position."

Alicent gave a quiet hum and peeled back the bandages, almost wincing at the fleshy pink scar across his skin. She set the old bandages aside to be disposed of later and carefully ran her fingers around the skin surrounding the injury. "I hear you gave Gwayne quite the fright," Alicent murmured, her attention drifting from the scar to study the rest of him. "He nearly struck Cole, or so rumors say."

(Y/N) laughed and then winced, his lips twisting into a brief frustrated pout before tugging into that familiar smile. "He apologized if it matters; It almost sounded sincere. I'm certain Cole learned why nobody enjoys being on the bad side of a Hightower." His amusement appeared to be infectious and a smile spread across Alicent's face.

"I'm glad you have each other." She told him and dipped her fingers into an ointment before gingerly spreading it over the injury. "I'm thankful Daeron has been raised by the both of you."

"He's a good lad, perhaps the best of the young lot we have." (Y/N) told her warmly. "He does not use what he knows against others, as is common with boys of his age who have such skills, and he's.. gentle.. kind. He is young but with time he would make an ideal Hand, and I'm certain once he is man-grown, you will receive many pleas from ladies desiring to be his wife. He makes a fine soldier but he'd make an even finer husband and father, I'm sure of it."

Alicent exhaled shakily and busied herself with unraveling the roll of fresh bandages to wrap around his waist. "That- That is good, I'm glad. He- I'm-... I'm truly thankful he's had the chance of having a fatherly figure in his life. I'm afraid his brothers lacked that warmth and love in their youth and now suffer the bitterness that comes with being deprived of it."

(Y/N) stared at her silently, his lips pursing slightly as he shifted to help her wrap the bandages. "Were you happy as Queen Consort, Alicent?" He asked quietly and her hands stilled, her breath catching in her chest and constricting inside her. He grimaced at her silence and carefully wrapped his hands around hers, giving her a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry you were unable to find happiness. Perhaps it would have been better if you'd remained in Oldtown with Gwayne."

"What was it like?" She asked quietly, studying their intertwined hands. "Growing up in our beautiful city?"

"We spent much of our youth training under Ser Frederick and Lord Hightower's watchful eyes to ensure we were the best knights Oldtown could offer. We had our fun, though. When the city grows damp, the coddled streets grow slippery. Gwayne and I and a few of the other boys would place bets on which unlucky Oldtowner would wind up falling after rainfall." (Y/N) recounted with a breathy chuckle. "There's a dog whom we named Melon. He's as free as the wind and as naughty as a jester. Ser Frederick gave up on trapping him, so he still roams the streets and training yard hoping to steal a wooden sword or meal right out of an unsuspecting lad's hands."

Alicent gave a quiet laugh, blissfully envisioning the older man rushing after a raggedy old dog who viewed it as a game. She envisioned herself there, as well, standing on the sidelines with the other ladies who watched the young knights train and giggled over which knight they desired for themselves. "It must've been something to grow up alongside Gwayne. He's as dutiful as is expected of a knight but he's always loved a bit of trouble."

"Ah, yes," (Y/N) grinned. "He's left a trail of broken hearts in Oldtown. The ladies swoon over him but he's fully committed to his vows and duties. He doesn't refrain from some flirting, though."

"And yourself? I'm certain the ladies swoon over you, as well." She'd already heard plenty of whispers from eligible courtiers in the Keep, certainly it was no different in Oldtown where the ladies had watched him grow and mature. Alicnet dragged the pad of her thumb over the skin of his hand, her insides twisting at the idea of hearing his interest in another. "There are.. many eligible ladies here in Court. A wedding would do wonders for the atmosphere of the Keep."

(Y/N) lips quirked and he tilted his head back along the top of the couch. "I've been approached by plenty of lords and knights wishing to bring forth a wedding but being chosen for Ser Frederick's position as master-at-arms and taking care of Daeron has allowed me to give plenty of excuses. I suppose it may be the time to begin eyeing the marriage mart."

Alicent hummed forcibly and freed her hands from his loose hold, rising from the couch and walking around it toward the pitcher with wine. "Lady Alysia Westerling has recently come of age, although you may find her too young for your tastes. Her sister, Lady Eleana, was widowed a few years ago and is searching for a new husband." Her ears picked up the quiet grunt that slipped from his lip when he stood up. "Lady Ellyn Baratheon has been betrothed to Aemond but the rest of the Four Storms remain eligible. The Lady-"

"The idea of arranging a marriage for me upsets you," He mused, sounding closer than she expected. "Your brother used to say you'd beg your parents to allow us to marry. He claimed by the age of seven, you knew precisely how you wished the wedding to go."

The horror of having an older brother, Alicent almost sighed and squeezed her eyes shut. Her skin flushed with the soft laugh that left him and she raised the chilled wine to her lips, flooding her mouth with the taste and hoping it'd flush away the swirling feelings in her chest. "Gwanye's always had the habit of overstepping when it comes to family." She murmured, running her thumb over the rim of the cup and tilting her head toward him.

His eyes flickered over her face and her breath hitched in her throat when his hand touched the back of her neck, his fingers calloused from years of working with them yet they felt far gentler than the touch of her late husband. Her lips parted to release a shaky exhale, her hold on the cup tightening and imprinting the designs into her palm. Her eyes fluttered shut when he neared her, their lips pressing upon each other, mixing the taste of wine and herbal tea when he pressed further against her mouth.

Goosebumps rose along her skin and she clumsily set the cup down, some of the liquid spilling over with her movements. He moved, his front pressing against her back and lips pulling away to press against the dewy skin of her cheek. His arms wrapped around her, caging her in a warm embrace that made her believe for a fleeting moment that everything would be fine, even with the prospect of a bigger battle at Rook's Nest. His fluttered kisses down to her jawline and then the side of her neck, his breath fanning against her shoulder.

"You are a widow, a woman no longer bound to a man and his house." He reminded her, his finger tracing the start of her off-shoulder sleeve. Her hands slipped toward her back and her fingers fiddled with the laces of her dress, pulling them free and loosening it enough for him to begin peeling the dress off her arms. "You've always spoken too lowly of yourself when you've always been the most eligible lady of the Crownlands."

She shakily exhaled when her dress slipped down and slumped around her ankles, her heart beginning to race and skip as it once had when she'd been a young girl. His fleeting and peppered kisses along her collarbone felt foreign, his warm tough new. Her late husband had always been rushed and clumsy, focusing on himself and muttering his late wife's name under his breath each time. It'd been her duty, something ladies did for the sake of their husbands and so few little enjoyed. But something old and forgotten ignited in her, a fire she'd long thought had been smothered.

Her eyes stung with salty, warm tears. Was this how it felt to be cared for by a lover? Was this the addictive feeling that had Rhaenyra returning to Ser Harwin Strong all those years? She longed for what could've been, for the years wasted away solemnly tied to a man whose heart remained with another and who offered her the minimum of care.

She'd told herself so often that she was one of the lucky few, one of those ladies whose husbands were kind but standing in the arms of someone she'd longed for so often, she wished she'd been left behind in Oldtown.

"Would you have married me?" She asked softly.

(Y/N) kisses the back of her head, his fingers kneading and massaging her hips. "I still could." He murmured into her hair, leaning back when she turned around to wrap her arms around his shoulders. Her doe eyes were widened, hopeful and pleading.

"I have prayed to the Gods since I was a girl for this." She told him, her hand resting against his cheek. "They have finally proven merciful, and have answered my prayers for the first time in years. Do not leave my side again, (Y/N). I do not wish to be betrothed to anyone but you."

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #x male!reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon x male reader #house of the dragon x you #house of the dragon x y/n #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #alicent hightower #alicent hightower x reader #alicent hightower x male reader #alicent hightower x you #alicent Hightower x y/n

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arlana-likes-to-write · 7 months ago

Text

Sins of the Family

Part 3 of Family and Pawns

Warnings: car accident, mention of death and grief, kidnapping, implied sexual assault, mention of suicide, suicidal thoughts, mention of past sexual assault, death, usage of a fire arm, angst with a happy ending, everyone needs a hug and no one is okay

Note: This is maybe the last story of this AU unless I get a request for another part.

Word Count: 10k (I don't want to talk about how long this)

“Cooper!” You shirked as the eldest Barton shot you with a water gun. It was an all out water war between you, Tommy, and Billy against the three Bartons plus Kate and Yelena. The twins thought it was unfair that the two Avengers were on the same time but the Black Widow has to remind them that they were enhanced, they did it so the teams would be more even. Speaking of your brother, Tommy ran behind Cooper and dumped a bucket of water on him. Before the eldest Barton could turn around, he was gone.

“Hey!” He whipped the water out of his eyes. “I thought we said no powers.” Tommy appeared next to you.

“That’s what you get for targeting our sister,” he held up his fist and you pumped it against his.

“Kids, lunch is ready.” Laura called out. You liked Iowa. It was quiet, peacefully, and the Bartons were welcoming. You sat next to Nate with a towel wrapped around your shoulders. Natasha warned you that the youngest Barton would probably be quiet, still processing the death of his father.

“So, what do you want to do after we eat?” You asked. He shrugged, biting into his hot dog. It was just you and the young boy at the table while everyone was pilling food onto their plate. “Can I tell you a secret?” You whispered to him. Nate slowly nodded his head. “It’s okay to be happy and still miss you.” You saw his little body tense up but he still refused to look at you. “It’s okay to be angry with him,” you continued. “And still love him.” A small whimper left his mouth and your heart broke for him. You wished you could take away all of his pain. You would take it all away if you could.

“It’s okay to be angry with Nat and be glad she’s alive because he is no longer here.” It was like the dame broke. You saw his body shake as quiet tear fell down his cheeks. You panicked, body frozen as he dropped his hot dog and climbed onto your lap. His face pushed against your damp shirt and you felt his tears. You glanced up and saw Laura, wide eyes and about to walk over to her emotionally distraught son but you held up her hand to stop her. “I’m going to pick up. Okay, buddy?” He tightened his grip on you. You stood up from the table, your towel fell to the ground, and you walked over to the swing that was handing from the tree.

This was what he needed. Someone to let himself cry without adding to their own grief. So you let him cry against you as you pushed yourself on the swing. “I’m sorry,” he said once his tears stopped. You forced him to look at you. There was snot running down his nose and his cheeks were blotchy.

“Hey, little man, it’s okay to cry. It’s okay for your feelings to be all over the place but we are here for you. Whatever you need,” he nodded and rested his head back on your chest.

“Does it get easier?” That was the million dollar question. You met an older lady while you took a walk during your lunch. She asked about your family not knowing the truth. While she learned about your parents, she told you about her late husband. You asked her the same question. She told you a metaphor that her therapist told her. Your grief was like a red button instead a box with a ball that rolled around. Since the grief was newer the ball would hit the button all the time, no matter what you were doing your grief was powerful. You felt it in everything you did.

Over time, the box got bigger and the grief stayed the same size but it wouldn’t hit the button all the time. You sighed, kissing the crown of his head. “Yeah,” you whispered. “It gets easier.”

“Remember,” Wanda said, glancing at you and the twins. “Billy, you need to bring in your permission slip. Tommy, we have to go to the mall and get you new shoes,” the twins nodded their heads. “And you have a meeting with the home school agency. Did you finish your essay?” You glanced over the book you were reading. The trip to Iowa was done and it was time to head back to reality which meant starting home school. The couple asked if you wanted to attend another school but the incident with Henry and Coach Griffo made you lose faith in the schooling system. Home school was the best option for you and they agreed.

“I finished it before we left for Iowa.”

“Atta girl,” Natasha winked at you from the driver’s seat.

“Nerd,” Tommy mumbled with a smile on his face. You rolled your eyes, bumping your shoulder against his.

“Dork,” you countered. You were an only child for the longest time it was such a nice change to mess with someone.

“Children,” Natasha warned but before she could continue her scolding. You heard the impact before you felt in. Instinct kicked in and you braced yourself for the impact, your body tensed with fear.

The collision was violent, the force of the impact threw you forward. You felt the searing pain shoot through your body. For a moment, everything seemed to spin, the world titled at an impossible angle. The sound of the twins screams echoed in your ears. Once the car settled, your vision was blurry but you saw Wanda and Natasha with their heads to the side. They weren’t moving. You tried to look at the twins but a sheering pain caused black spots to cover your vision. A soft whimper left your lips and the world went dark.

You heard a soft voice calling out to you. She was saying your name over and over again to urge you to wake up. You were so tired. It seemed easier to keep your eyes closed and sleep but the voice was persistent, a little annoying. It kept getting louder and louder until it was impossible to ignore. “Mama,” you gasped awake. Your chest was heaving, eyes darted around the foreign room. You groaned softly as the pain of the car accident caught up with you. You took a few deep breaths to calm yourself down. Your hands were cuffed to metal chains that were attached to the wall. The room was four walls with two doors; one of them was boarded up with wood.

In the corner, you saw Tommy. His hands were free from restraint but a collar was around his neck. “Tommy,” you called out. “Tommy, wake up.” You said a bit louder. Still he laid still, on his stomach. “Come on. This isn’t funny wake up,” you pleaded, desperation oozing from each word. Finally, he groaned. “Oh thank you,” you said, your head leaning back against the wall.

“My head hurts,” he wined, rolling onto his back. It took a moment but he sat up quickly. “What happened?”

“We were in a car accident. I don’t know where we are,” he stumbled to his feet. “Easy,” but he ignored you, wrapped his hands around the chains, and pulled. They weren’t moving. “Tommy, stop. You are going to hurt yourself.” He shook his head.

“I can get you out,” he pulled at them again. “I can get us out and we can go home!” He fell to his butt with a huff. “What’s around your neck?”

“Probably the same thing around yours,” Tommy reached around his neck to touch the collar. You stood up and found out you could reach the mattress but not the door. You sat down and opened your arms, there was a sharp pain in your shoulder. Tommy took the opportunity to lay in your lap.

“They are going to find us,” he looked up at you. “Right?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Or we’ll get out of here by our self.”

Natasha was barely listening to Sam as he spoke with local police and Yelena and Kate were looking at the car crash. Her eyes were on her wife and Billy as they sat on the back of an ambulance. The EMT was cleaning a cut on Billy’s head and his arm was in a sling to help his shoulder. Wanda seemed untouched but Natasha had a faint memory of her wife’s magic wrapping around the car before she blacked out. She wanted Helen to do a check up on him when they were done here. “Thank you officer,” Sam said. Natasha turned back into the conversation. “Are you sure you don’t want to get checked out?”

“I’m fine,” she wasn’t really. It was taken every fiber in her body to not lose it. Her daughter and son were taken right from underneath her nose. By focusing on the pain radiating through her body she wasn’t going to lose her cool. Her sister and Kate walked over to them. “What do we know?” She asked.

“It was one van that hit your car,” Kate handed her a tablet with a feed of the car accident. “Then two more vans showed up and took Y/n and Tommy.” Natasha watched as two men existed their car and ran to the back of the car to get you and Tommy. Why didn’t they take Billy?

“The plates were stolen but we are having Peter check out the original owners,” Yelena said, taking the tablet from Natasha. “We know this was planned. They never looked at the camera so we can’t run facial recognition..”

“So we have nothing on who took my kids.”

“We will find them, Nat,” Sam said. “You have my word but we need to get you, Wanda, and Billy back to the tower where it’s safe. We don’t know if they’ll come back,” that made Natasha’s blood run cold. She couldn’t let them take anyone else.

“Okay,” she said.

“Kate and I will drive you back,” Natasha nodded and walked over to the ambulance. Her body ached but she put on a smile as she got closer.

“Hey bud,” she whispered. “How are you?” Billy shrugged, not looking up at the Black Widow. Natasha frowned, looking at the witch. ‘He hasn’t spoken,’ Wanda’s voice echoed in her head. Natasha nodded. “We are gonna head to the tower with Auntie Lena and Aunt Kate, okay?” Billy nodded, jumping off the back and head over to his aunts. But the young boy didn’t reach out for comfort from his aunts. Instead, he walked right past them to the car. Natasha sighed, feeling her wife grab her hand.

“You haven’t gotten checked out, moya lyubov’ (my love),” Wanda said.

“I’m fine,” but she knew she couldn’t lie to Wanda as easily as she did with Sam. Wanda stopped walked. “Wanda-” Natasha pleaded.

“This is not your fault, okay?” Natasha looked at her sister. Yelena was leaning against the car, trying to get Billy to talk. “And I will remind you that at every step. We will find them and Billy will be okay,” Natasha surged forward capturing Wanda’s lips into a kiss. The kiss was frantic, messy as Natasha hung onto Wanda.

“I can’t lose you,” she whispered against Wanda’s lips.

“You won’t. I’m here. I’m right here.”

You let Tommy fall asleep, resting between your legs and you ran your fingers through his hair. You wanted to close your eyes and sleep but you couldn’t. What if when you closed your eyes and the door opened and they came in to take your brother? So you sat and replayed moments in your head. The first time you met the Romanoff-Maximoff family and the night the couple told you they wanted to adopt you. They were going to find you. Until then you had to be strong and protect Tommy.

Finally, you heard the door unlock and slowly open. The sound caused Tommy to stir awake but you kept your arms around him as 3 men walked in; two were carrying bowls. “Food,” the man up front said. He was Russian and the men behind him set the bowls near the mattress. But you both didn’t move. “You are going to need your strength.”

“What do you want with us?” You asked. He didn’t answer, instead he gestured to the man on his left and he walked over to you. He ribbed Tommy from your arms. “No!” You jumped to your feet but the man held your brother by his throat and put a gun to his temple. “Please don’t hurt him.” Tommy struggled against his capture but it made no difference.

“Let me make myself perfectly clear,” he stepped forward. “When I say you eat, you eat. When I say jump, you ask how high. Your brother’s life is my hands, do you understand my malen’kaya ten’ (little shadow)?” You glanced at Tommy.

“I understand,” the man holding your brother threw him to the ground. Before you could help, the man grabbed onto your chin to force you to look at him.

“He is collateral,” he said. “I won’t hesitate to kill him if you disobey me.” You nodded and he let you go. You ran over to Tommy and he assured you he was okay as the three men left.

“Do you know them?” He asked. You shook your head. You didn’t, you’ve never seen those men in your life.

“But he definitely knew me,” you sat back on the mattress with the bowl. It was a soup of some kind.

“He called you little shadow,” he said, sitting next to you with his bowl in his lap. Little shadow. Your spoon stopped in mid air. You hadn’t thought about that nickname in months since Jason was killed. “Do you want this?” He asked, holding up his bowl. “I don’t like it.” You laughed at the scrunch of his nose.

“Eat it,” you said, taking a spoonful of your own. It wasn’t bad just bland compared to Wanda’s flavorful cooking. “I think he’s right when he said we’ll need our strength.”

Wanda hated this. This intense feeling of worthlessness as she had no idea where her son and daughter were or who took them. She couldn’t even help her other son who hasn’t spoken or eaten since the accident. He was shutting her out and that scared her even more. “But why not take all three of your kids?” Maria asked. The available Avengers met at the tower to come together to find you and Tommy. They were in the conference room while Pepper and Happy watched Billy and Morgan. She hated being away from him but he didn’t need to be here for this. “If they want to hurt you, why did they just take Y/n and Tommy?” It was a good question and one Wanda couldn’t answer. Natasha and her made a lot of enemies throughout their time as Avengers. The list was long.

“Maybe it’s not about us,” Natasha said, picking at the skin around her thumb. Wanda grabbed her hand to stop her. “Have we found anything about Jason?” Tony pulled up the hologram of the man that took advantage of you. The sight still made Wanda’s blood boil.

There wasn’t much they knew about the man that could help them. Only child, whose parents divorced when he was a kid, and his father was in and out of rehab facilities. He was in extreme debt and unemployed. At his last job, he suffered a shoulder injury which allowed him to cash in disability checks.

“What about her parents?” Yelena asked. “Jason must have known them. There was no way them meeting was a coincidence,” she had a good point. Tony put up two holograms of your parents. You rarely spoke about them. Maybe it hurt to much to think about them. Your parents were Daniel and Harper. In 2018, two months after Thanos exterminated half of all living things. Harper was diagnosed with cancer. It seemed so unfair how much pain your family was subjected to in a short amount of time. Your mother was a house keeper while your father worked in construction. They were living pay check to paycheck since Harper was out of work while she received treatment from a Dr. Joshua Harris. Unfortunately, Harper’s treatment wasn’t successful. She passed away. Your father took his own life two months after his wife passed. In three years, you would return and your parents were gone.

“We are missing something,” Natasha stood up suddenly. “If they were being blackmailed or were involved in something there wouldn’t be a paper trail.”

“Nat is right,” Sam said. “Yelena, Kate go talk to Harper‘s doctor maybe he can tell us something.” The duo stood up to leave the room, Yelena squeezed Natasha’s shoulder before they left. “Peter, Maria, and Bucky will try to find an angel on ().” A plan was made. It wasn’t a lot but it was something. Natasha and Wanda left to go find Billy. He was laying on the couch, watching Morgan play with her dolls.

“Hey,” Wanda said, sitting down next to him. “Have you eaten anything?” He shook his head.

“Why don’t I make some mac and cheese?” Natasha suggested. Billy brightened up slightly.

“And a hot dog,” The Black Widow smiled.

“Anything for you, bud,” she walked into the kitchen.

“How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?” Helen gave all three of them a clean bill of health besides the normal ache and pains. Bill frowned, moving to rest his head on her lap. “Talk to me, dorogoy (sweetheart). Please.” She ran her fingers through his hair.

“I can’t feel them, mam,” he whispered. “I keep trying but I don’t know where they are. I-,” his voice cracked. “That’s what hurts mama. I want them home.” Wanda saw the signs of Billy’s powers getting out of control. They were similar in that sense when their emotions got overwhelming their powers were unpredictable. It was a work in process to help him contain it. The witch forced Billy to sit up and moved him so he sat on her lap, his chest against hers.

“Breath, Billy. I need you to breath.”

“I can’t,” he gasped and his hands twisted in the fabric of Wanda’s shirt.

“Yes, you can,” Wanda kept her voice soft. She watched Natasha walk over with the plate of food. She almost dropped it at the state of Billy was in. “Your mom and I got you,” Wanda held out her hand for Natasha to grab. She put the food down and took her hand. Gently, Wanda placed Natasha’s hand on their son’s back and traced soothing circles. “Just focus on us.” Wanda began to hum, a simple lullaby she would sign to them when they were babies. It seemed to work. She felt Billy slump against her and his breathing calmed down.

“You are doing so good, bud.” Natasha said, locking eyes with Wanda. If there was one thing Wanda loved about Natasha it was her eyes. They were so expressive. Even when her face was so stoic, her eyes gave away so much.

“It’s okay,” Wanda smiled. “Everything is going to be okay.” She said it for all three of them. Everything was going to be okay.

When the door opened again, you and Tommy were playing Concentration. It was the same man from before. He walked over to you, twirling a key in his hand. He grabbed onto your hands and unlocked the cuffs. “Come with me,” you rubbed at your wrists. “Both of you.” You stood up and the two men grabbed Tommy. “You can call me, Dmitri, okay?” He put his arm around your shoulder as the two men walked out of the room. “We had a mutual friend. Do you know who?” Outside the room, you call tell you were in an abounded hospital. Empty beds with rusted frames sat against the peeling walls, the mattresses long gone or decayed. The air was heavy with the scent of dust and decay. The doors that weren’t locked shut were hanging off the hinges. Your small group weren’t the only ones in the hallway but the ignored you, focused on their task of cleaning.

At the nurse station, the desk was covered in a thick layer of dust, and the files lie scattered and forgotten. Some of the signs still hung on the wall but were faded, their messages no longer conveyed a feeling of hope.

“Jason,” you finally replied.

“Oh she is smart,” he teased. “He was a good man, more loyal to his cock then the cause,” he squeezed your shoulder and the soup you ate turned in your stomach. They brought you into a room. It was a stark contrast to the rest of the hospital. The room was well kept with multiple screens and a generator in the corner. There were weapons scattered against the tables set up. It was eerily silent besides a man typing away at the computer. Your brother was forced into a chair and metal restraints were put on his legs and arms. “Are you ready for your mission, malen’kaya ten’?” You glanced at Tommy.

“I am,” you whispered. Dmitri handed you a tactical suit, similar to the one you’ve seen Natasha ware.

“Change into this,” you took it from him and hesitated. “Change now.” Your hands shook as you took off the clothes you decided to wear on the trip home from the Bartons, simple tracksuit that Kate bought for you. You weren’t blind to the way Dmitri’s eyes racked up and down your body. His footsteps moved behind you and he grabbed the zipper and zipped it up. His hands landed on your shoulders. “Good girl,” Dmitri whispered the name as if it was a secret for only you and him. The name caused your stomach to turn. “This is for you,” it was a com and you put it in your ear. “You and I are going for a little ride and you will listen to every word I say,” he grabbed your chin and forced you to look at Tommy. The sudden movement caused you to stumble into him and his free arm wrapped around your waist, trapping you from moving. “If you don’t your baby brother’s brains will be splattered all over that wall.”

“I understand,” you said. “Can I give him a hug?” He thought about it.

“Make it quick. I’m not a monster,” You walked over to Tommy and hugged him tight.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” you whispered.

“Same to you,” you kissed the top of his head and walked over to the man. He said he wasn’t a monster but that was up for some debate. Delete Created with Sketch.

“Where are we going?” You asked. He blindfolded you the minute he lead you out of the building. Being in the backseat of a car was nauseating as you tried to make sense of the turns but it was impossible.

“We are almost there,” your leg began to shake but you felt his hand on your thigh. Automatically your body tensed up. “It’s okay, malen’kaya ten’, I won’t hurt you.”

“You see why I find it hard to believe,” you said. “I thought Jason wasn’t going to hurt me and we both know how that ended.” He removed his hand and your body relaxed.

“We’re here,” the car stopped and blindfold was removed from your eyes. The sun caused you to wince and it took a minute for your eyes to adjust to the harsh light. “We are at the office of Dr. Harris,” you didn’t recognize the name. “You are going to sneak into his office and place this listening device somewhere he won’t find it,” you took the device from him. “Then you will use this on his computer and it will copy all of the files, it will take 15 seconds.”

“How do you expect me to sneak in with this stupid collar on?” You asked. He pulled out a key and took it off. A weight that was on your chest was lifted off. He put a small camera on your chest.

“Remember what I have,” you sighed.

“I do,” you fazed through the car. You kept your powers on as you walked over to the office and walked through the door. You stood in a small entry way with a door in front of you and on your right. A metal sign displayed each specialties the office offered. Dr. Harris’ office was through the door in front of you and he was a medical oncologist. You frowned, ignored the tight knot that formed in your stomach, and moved onto the next door.

It was a simple waiting room, there was a few patients in the chairs. the receptionist was speaking with a young woman through the glass that separated them. The patient had a beanie that covered her head. It was no use to stay and listen to the conversation that was happening so you moved past the nurse that opened the door to call the next patient.

Lucky, there was signs that pointed you in the right direction. However, your feet stopped when you passed a large open area. There was a nurse station on one wall and spread across the room were chairs; some empty. But the people that were in those chairs were attached to IVs. Curiously, you walked towards the nurse station and read the pamphlets they had out. 20 different recipes to eat try during Chemotherapy. What is radiation? How to overcome it? You were in a cancer center.

‘Ah,’ Dmitri said. ‘I forgot you weren’t around to see your mommy sub come to the horrible disease,’ When you were younger, your parents saved enough money to take you to Cooney Island. All the kids at school talked about riding a roller coaster and how cool it was. So you were anxious to go on it. You were nervous and your parents kept saying you did not have to go on it. That no matter what you were their brave girl. You went on it and hated every second of it. The way your stomach dropped at each turn made you sick. You were experiencing that same feeling now. ‘Continue, my little shadow,’ he said. ‘His office is down the hall.’ You nodded and walked that way. The sooner you were done, the faster you could be back with Tommy, safe in the 4 wall cell. Safe wasn’t the correct word you would use but it was better than be separated. You fazed through the doctor’s door. He was sitting at his desk, typing away at his computer. Bookshelf’s were behind him, decorated with pictures of different families. ‘You are gonna have to get him to leave.’ You rolled your eyes. Easier said then done, you thought, how the hell were you going to do that?

As if someone heard your prayer a knock came to the doctor’s door. “Come in,” you moved to the corner as the door opened and the receptionist you saw enter.

“Two Avengers are here to speak with your,” you froze and stomach flipped. Avengers. Two Avengers were here. Your family. ‘Don’t,’ the man hissed in your ear. ‘Don’t forget what I have.’ Oh you didn’t but maybe you could get their attention.

“Of course, please send them right in,” the doctor stood up and straightened the white coat he was wearing. The door opened wider as Kate and Yelena walked in.

“Dr. Harris,” Kate said, extending her hand for the doctor to take. “Kate Bishop and this is Yelena Belova. Thank you for meeting us.” The doctor shook her hand. He went to shake Yelena’s but the blonde refused and sat down in the chair.

“Of course. Anything I can do to help the Avengers,” he sat down and kept his eyes mostly on Kate. You could tell he was intimidate by the Black Widow. You had to stop yourself from laughing. You moved to the window ledge and leaned against it. “What is this about?”

“A former patient of yours,” Kate said. “Does the name Harper Myers ring a bell?” That was your mom’s name. Your stomach dropped. It had been a long time since you’ve heard someone say it.

“The Myers,” he spun around in his chair to look at his wall of pictures. He stood up to grab a frame and looked it over before handing it over to Kate with a sad smile. “They were lovely people,” you walked over to the couple as Kate handed the photo to Yelena. “They had a daughter that I never got to meet her.” You looked at the picture over Yelena’s shoulder. It was a picture of your mom, dad, and you as a baby. They took you o a local mall to see Santa Claus. You were crying, not very happy that a stranger was holding you. Yelena handed the photo back to the doctor but turned to look over her shoulder. Her eyes bore into yours and you held your breath.

“Can you tell us about the Myers?” Kate asked. Yelena turned around slowly. You let out a shaky breath and walked back to the widows. ‘You are toeing a dangerous line,’ Dmitri hissed in your ear.

“The Myers were hardworking people. Harper was diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer in 2018. It was a miracle she survived as long as she did.” You clenched your jaw and crossed your arms, hugging yourself for some sort of comfort.

“Did you notice any abnormal behavior?” Kate asked. “Besides the obvious going through a cancer diagnosis.” The doctor leaned forward, resting his hands on his chin.

“I take patient confidentiality very seriously,” he said. “Even after death, they are entitled to the same level of respect. So I will ask again, what is this about?”

“Their daughter was kidnapped,” it was the first time Yelena has spoken. “We are searching every possible option to find her.” You watched the doctor’s face pale.

“Is this about the money?” The couple glanced at each other.

“What money?” The doctor sighed and pulled open a drawer. It took him a moment to find what he was looking for. Soon he handed the couple a folder.

“They were struggling financially to cover the cost of the treatment,” you stayed still not wanting to alert Yelena again. “Daniel’s job offered insurance but it barely covered the cost of the treatment plan Harper would need. Out billing department told them they then they came to me and refused treatment. I pleaded with them to reconsider, that I would help them find a way to pay for it. But they refused,” he sighed. Kate placed the file back on his desk.

“But they got the money?” She questioned. The doctor nodded.

“They came back two days later and said they liked to continue with the treatment. I believe Daniel said they got the money from his sister who passed away.” You frowned. Your dad was an only child.

“Did not find that suspicious?” The blonde asked.

“Of course I did but my job is try to save patients lives. I find the monetary part of my job pointless. If I could give treatment to everyone free of charge then I would.”

“Thank you for your time doctor,” Kate said. “Can you show us to your billing department?” Dr. Harris stood up without a word and walked to the door. The couple followed him but Yelena hesitated and looked towards you. “Sweetheart,” the archer said. “Are you okay?” Yelena nodded.

“Yeah,” she said. “Just,” you know I’m here, you thought, I’m here. I’m here. “It’s nothing.” The Black Widow grabbed her hand. Once they left, Dr. Harris closed the door.

‘Hurry up,’ Dmitri said. You walked over his desk and placed the flash drive into the tower. You watched as a loading boar appeared on the screen and began to count up.

“What are you doing?” You asked. The man laughed.

‘We found you through the lovely doctor,’ he said. ‘Can you imagine who else we can have? Especially when hundreds of families are as desperate as yours were.’ The bar was full and you pulled the flash drive out. ‘You did well,’ he said as you walked through the doctor’s door. ‘I’m impressed with your level of submission,’ he chuckled. ‘I thought you’d fight more.’

You wanted to fight. You wanted to kick and scream and go home but how could you. You were tied down to Dmitri as he held your brother over your head. You moved through the front door but stopped.

“We could follow the money,” Kate said. “Have FRIDAY trace the account.” The Black Widow nodded. “Hey, what’s wrong? You’ve been off.” Yelena sighed.

“We are no closer to finding her,” she admitted. “I’m worried.” Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. There was a part of you that feared they would hear it.

‘Move,’ he ordered but you couldn’t. ‘I will kill him.’ He would. You knew he could but your feet felt glued to the spot. ‘One more chance or your brother’s brains will be all over the wall.’

“We will bring her home,” Kate smiled. “Then we’ll never let her go.” They made the choice for you as the couple walked over to where their car was parked. You sighed, finally walking over to the van. The door opened and you materialized as he grabbed you and pulled in. He pinned you to the opposite door, hand loosely around your neck. You felt his breath on your face. “Do you need to be taught a lesson?” The pressure of his hand tightened on your throat. It was getting harder to get air through your lungs.

“No,” you whispered. “No, sir. It won’t happen again.” You were transported back to whenever Jason was upset with you. You took the flash drive out of your pocket. “I did what you wanted,” you reminded him. His eyes flickered to yours and the flash drive. The pressure let up and you sucked in air. He tightened the collar back around your neck and took the flash drive from you. Before he pulled away from you, he kissed your cheek and whispered, “Good girl,” in your ear.

You felt sick, bile creeping up your throat as the car began to drive. It didn’t take long until you were blindfolded again and your leg started to shake.

“That’s all we get out of him,” Kate said, ending their debrief on what they found out about the doctor. It wasn’t a lot but Natasha was certain they found you and your family through the doctor. Sam must have agreed as the direction of the conversation shifted to find the link. But the Black Widow wasn’t listening even though it was important. Her attention was on her sister, who was abnormally quiet. She let Kate do a majority of the talking, adding a comment here or there. Now she was quiet, resting her hand on her chin. When the meeting was over, Yelena left quickly. “Hey,” Natasha called out to her. “What’s going on?” Yelena slowed down, allowing her to catch up.

“Something didn’t feel right while we were there,” Yelena said, glancing at her sister. “It was like,” she paused and Natasha allowed her the time to process her thoughts. “Like we were being watched.”

“Were they there?” Did the people who had you and Tommy know they would check there? Yelena sighed, shrugging her shoulders.

“Maybe I don’t know,” With your and Tommy’s enhancements, you were a deadly combination. “It doesn’t hurt to scrub through security footage to find out.”

You heard your name being called out and your eyes fluttered open. Dmitri was back. For the first time, he was alone. His guard dogs weren’t insight. “How did you sleep?” He asked, handing you and Tommy a bowl of the same food you ate earlier.

“Well considering the circumstances,” you said, taking a bite. It tasted better than before. “What do we owe the pleasure?” He sat down in front of you, legs crossed and elbows resting on his knees.

“Your sister is pretty incredible,” he said to Tommy. Your brother leaned into your side. “She’s very protective over you, isn’t she?”

“She is,” Tommy whispered. The man smiled.

“What do you want?” You asked again.

“All will be explained but first eat,” you and Tommy both did as he asked and when your bowls were empty, you placed them down and he offered you his hand. Hesitantly, you took it and he pulled you to your feet. Unlike before he put his arm around Tommy and the 3 of you walked down the hallway. His hand was on your waist, a possessive grip that you couldn’t break away. When you entered the room before, his guard dogs were next to the chair. You changed into the suit, put the com in your ear, and hugged Tommy tight.

This time when you were brought to the car, there was no blind fold. Did he see your submissiveness as loyalty? You weren’t sure but the grip he had on you moved to your thigh instead of your hip. It was night but you couldn’t track the turns and stops with his hand on you. “Where are we going?” You finally asked.

“You’ll find out soon enough. Just relax,” he put his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into him. “Why are you so tense?” He asked. “Is this not okay?”

“It’s fine,” you tried to relax but your skin felt like it was burning. You let out a shaky breath and placed your arm on his thigh.

“You and I are going to do amazing things,” he said and tried to fight the shiver that ran down your spine.

“I don’t even know what your goal is,” he chuckled, resting his head on top of yours.

“Perform well tonight and I’ll tell you everything.”

The van stopped a block away from a warehouse. “There are 4 guards,” he showed you a security footage of instead the warehouse on a tablet. “I need you to go inside, disable and erase the security footage, kill the guards, and open the doors for our team.”

“Kill,” you whispered. The other things you could muddle through. But killing innocent people, you weren’t sure if you could do that. He handed you a pistol with a silencer. “I don’t kill people.” Each word you spoke shook with your nerves.

“You killed Jason,” that was true but that was out of self-defense. If you didn’t kill him, he was going to kill you. “It’s rather simple,” he maneuvered your hand to attach the gun to your hip. “But the gun to their heads,” he used his finger to lift your head. Your eyes locked onto his. “And blow their brains out. Simple.” There was nothing simple about it. “Are you ready?” You weren’t. All the color drained from your face. Could he hear how fast your heart was beating? “I asked if you were ready, my little shadow.” His face was in the crock of your neck. You felt the vibration of his words against your skin, causing your hairs to stand up. You weren’t ready. But if you failed or disobeyed what would happen? Would they go after Billy? Or maybe Nathaniel? Lila? Or Cooper? You couldn’t risk the safety of your family. His lips grazed your pulse. You nodded, licking your lips.

“I’m ready.”

“It’s the same van,” Natasha said to the Avengers with screenshots of traffic footage behind her. It took her, Yelena, and Kate hours to scrub through the footage. At first they found nothing but soon they noticed a black van, always changing license plates and they could never see the driver. They were good which worried Natasha. They weren’t amateur kidnappers. They were professionals but they made a mistake, well 2 mistakes. “The color of the van looks black but it isn’t. The color is sable and only 2 car shops in the city carry that color.”

“We pulled the records of those names and almost reached a dead end but Yelena found our connection,” the blonde smiled and changed the screen to a single white patch.

“What is that?” Maria asked.

“It’s a nicotine patch to help people quit smoking. A majority of them can be bought over the counter but others require a prescription,” Yelena explained. “We cross listed the list from the detail shops with those who have a prescription and he found,” the screen changed again to a man. “A Lucas Bennett.”

“Mr. Bennett has a history of gambling and drinking away his money but he also visited Dr. Harris.”

“Where is he now?” Sam questioned.

“FRIDAY is already pulling up current employers and addresses. It’s just a waiting game,” Natasha said, looking at Wanda. Her hand rested on her chin. “We find him he will lead us to Tommy and Y/n.” She said it convince Wanda and herself. They were so close to finding her other kids.

“Miss. Romanoff, I’ve located Mr. Bennett.” She looked at Sam.

“FRIDAY send us the location,” he said. “Avengers Assemble.”

You hated this. Your palms were sweat as you held the pistol. On quiet feet you walked through the warehouse to the first guard. A mantra echoed in your head and you were surprised it was Yelena’s voice- ‘I know exactly who you are. A hero. A protector. A sister.’ At this very moment, you didn’t feel like any of those things. A hero wouldn’t kill innocent men just doing their job. A protector would stand up to Dmitri and find a way to save Tommy. No, you were weak. A spineless fool. You put the barrel of the gun against the guard’s head, closed your eyes, and pulled the trigger. ‘Very good. One down,’ you opened your eyes and stared at the body at your feet. A pool of blood formed around his head. ‘Three more to go.’ You let out a shaky breath and tears formed at the corner of your eyes but you moved on, a job needed to be done.

When you lived with Jason, you were prone to dissociating. It allowed your mind to be protected while he raped you. You found yourself doing it now as if your mind was gone and your body moved on auto pilot. The two guards went down easily, their blood pooled on the floor and splattered on the wall they stood next to. In your ear, Dmitri praised you. Every time he called you ‘his good girl’ the little food in your stomach turn. ‘3 down, one to go.’ he said. ‘Good girl.’

You wanted to rip the com out of your ear, stomp on it. You wanted to go back in time and save those three men you murdered. To go back and stop the car accident but you couldn’t. So with the last guard that stood by the security office, you placed the barrel to the back of his head and pulled the rigger. His body slumped to the ground.

A few weeks ago, you woke up at three in the morning. With your throat dry and you were in desperate need of some water but the water bottle you had was empty. Kicking off the blankets, you braced the cold air of the house and headed to the kitchen. You expected it to be empty so you could fill your water bottle up and quickly go back to sleep. It wasn’t. Natasha was sitting at the kitchen counter and she appeared to be crying? Her sobs were muffled due to her hand being over her mouth but you saw her body shake. You remained frozen, not used to the scene in front of you. The normal level headed Black Widow was sobbing in the kitchen and were lost on what to do.

‘Mom,’ you made your presence known. She was startled, apologized, and asked if she woke you up. Instead of answering, you walked over to her and pulled her into a hug. You felt her body tense up but soon relaxed into you and cried. It could have been hours or maybe minutes but you held onto her tightly. Soon she pulled away and apologized again but you told her it was okay to cry. It was okay to not be strong all the time.

Instead of getting water, hot chocolate was made and you sat with her on the kitchen floor. You talked about everything.- her time in the Red Room, the red on her ledger, and the guilt she felt which lead her to working with SHIELD and the Avengers. Wanda found you and Natasha on the couch fast asleep the following morning.

But the conversation stuck with you and you found yourself thinking about it now while you stared at the body on the ground. There was more on your ledger. After all these years, Natasha was still trying to forgive herself. How long was it going to take you?

‘Hurry along.’ You nodded and fazed through the door to the security office. You plugged in the flash drive and watched the security footage delete, the alarm system turn off, and the metal garage door open. On cue, black vans entered the warehouse and men you didn’t recognize began to open the wooden boxes with crowbars.

“What are they looking for?” You asked, stepping out of the office. They paid no mind to you and continued on their work. You walked over to one of the men. Once the wooden box was open, he pulled out of a brief case. He placed a piece of tape over the finger print scanner and he opened it when it beeped.

“They are here, sir,” the man to Dmitri over his own com.

‘Perfect,’ you heard the smile in his voice. ‘My little shadow you did it!’ He was so proud of you but it filled you with fear. ‘Those pills are psylock. They enhance neural pathways to allow for manipulation,’ each word he spoke, sent a shiver down your spine. ‘Now we don’t also have to take baby brothers has collateral. Everyone will be good obedient soldiers,’ the world around you seem to blur.

“What are you planning?” You questioned. “Why are you building an army?” He scuffed.

‘The world is dirty A filthy, disgusting place so it needs to be rebuilt. You’ve seen the horrors of it. Together we can make it better,’ you had to stop yourself from laughing. This man wanted to make the world better when he was part of the problem. He contributed to the darkness. He was a monster not a savior.

Shooting pulled you out of your thoughts. You gripped the gun in your hand tighter as gun shots bounced off the walls. ‘Run back to me,’ Dmitri said but your feet remained frozen to the ground. You heard them. The voices of the Avengers. ‘Now!’ Still your hesitated when you locked eyes with familiar green ones.

“Mom,” you whispered. They found you. The relief was evident on her face but her eyes asked a question - where is your brother? You smiled, dropped the gun, and ran back to your capture. Ignoring the shouts of your name.

Natasha was losing her patience as she grabbed Lucas by the shoulder and throw him into an office chair. He was supporting a gun shot and she knew that wasn’t the only injury he was going to have tonight. “Let’s be honest with one another, okay?” She smiled, feeling her wife’s eyes on her back. The other Avengers were dealing with the other goons. Sam allowed Natasha, Yelena, and Wanda 10 minutes alone with him. “I really want to kill you but I can’t because you have something I need. So answer my one simple question. Where are my kids?” He laughed.

“Go to hell,” the Black Widow’s smile didn’t falter.

“Mr. Bennett,” she dug her finger into the gun shot and he let out a muffled scream, biting down on his lip. “I’m the easy way,” she moved behind him and forced his head to look at Wanda. “Do you see that beautiful woman over there? I get the pleasure to call her my wife and you do want her to find the answers by force.”

“I’m not scared of her,” he spat out.

“I would be,” Yelena mumbled.

“Moya lyubov’ (My love),” Natasha looked at the witch. “Let me talk to him.” She let go of his face and walked over to Wanda. With the hand not covered in his blood, the Black Widow put her hand on the back of Wanda’s neck.

“Find only them, little witch,” she whispered.

“I wont kill him,” her lips twitched and each words was laced with her deep accent. “He will wish for death.” Natasha gently kissed her forehead and let her go.

“I told you,” Yelena said as Wanda’s fingers glowed red. Natasha smirked as her fingers touched his head and he began to scream.

“How did they find you?” He asked with his hand tightly wrapped in your hair as he dragged you into a room you’ve never been in. Hew threw you onto the bed and you scrambled to sit up.

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. The man paced in front of you. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me.” H wasn’t acknowledging you to lost in his thoughts. “Please,” you whispered. “Please don’t hurt him.” That stopped him and he faced you. You climbed to the opposite side of the bed, until your back hit the wall. You hated the look in his head. It was a look you’ve seen before. In Jason’s eyes. In every male that looked at you as if you were a toy, a piece of meat for them to taste.

“Strip for me,” he said, removing his tip and setting a pistol on the bed side table.

“I’m sorry?” You questioned even though you fully understood what he said. He chuckled.

“I am getting tired of having to repeat myself,” he rolled up the sleeves to his elbows. “I said strip.”

“We found Tommy,” Yelena said through Natasha’s com as they ran through the hallway of the abandoned hospital. “He’s safe minus a bruise on his face.”

“Copy that,” Wanda answered. “We are still searching for Y/n.” They came to a intersection. “I’ll go left and you go right.” Natasha hated the idea of splitting up but they needed to cover more ground.

“Okay,” she squeezed Wanda’s hand. “Be safe and let’s bring our girl home.” The witch squeezed her hand back and took off. The Black Widow let out a shaky breath and ran right. As she ran through the empty corridors, her mind kept turning into a darker place. The emptiness and coldness of it all reminded her of the Red Room. Endless hours she was shuffled through those halls; going to training or the ballet bar or back to her room. Now two of her children have been subjected to the same darkness. The sound of gun shots sent her heart in a panic and pulled her out of her thoughts. Another shot. Followed by another. She swung open the door with her gun drawn but her form faltered when she saw you; wearing only underwear, blood splattered across your face, and a gun in your hand. You pointed the gun at Natasha.

“M-mom,” you whispered. Your eyes were frantic, wide, and scared. Natasha holstered her gun.

“Yeah, it’s me,” she held up your hands when you didn’t lower the gun. “It’s me. It’s your mom.” Delete Created with Sketch.

You had to be dreaming, right? There was no way Natasha was standing in front of you. He had to have drugged you. “Can you put the gun down for me?” She asked, taking a step closer to you.

“Stop, don’t come any closer,” your hand shook but the Black Widow stopped walking towards you.

“I’ll stay right here but I need you to put that gun down.”

“I can’t,” you whispered. Didn’t she understand. You had to protect yourself from her and the men in his organization. “What if they come back for me?” Natasha shook her head.

“They won’t,” she said. “I’m here and you are safe.”

“Safe?” You questioned with a bitter laugh. “Why does this keep happening to me?” You asked, hitting yourself on the chest with your free hand. “Why do people keep using me? I can’t-” your voice cracked. Your throat began to burn as you tried to keep the tears at bay. “I can feel his hands on me. His breath on my neck. Why does this keep happening?” You pleaded with her to have an answer.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. Sometimes the world is a dark and evil place and you’ve been subjected to a lot of it.”

“It’s not fair. It’s not fair.” You readjusted your grip on the gun. “I can’t do this answer.” You put the barrel of the gun to your temple.

“Sweetheart,” Natasha took a few steps forward but you backed away from her. “You have every right to be angry and upset with how the world as treated you but I promise you whatever happens next I will be there. By yourself or at your back. Just please,” her own voice shook. “Put the gun down and we can go home.”

“Home?” You questioned. You heard footsteps rushing towards the open door and you pointed the gun. It was Wanda. “M-mama,” you whispered.

“Hi, my sweet girl.”She smiled.

“I c-can’t go home,” you said. “I killed those guards and stool information from a doctor. I’m - I’m,” your heart was pounding against your ribs. It was hard for you to get air into your lungs. You put the gun back to your temple.

“You did those things to keep yourself and Tommy safe,” Wanda said. Her voice was strong and steady. “We or the others won’t think of you any differently.”

“Tommy,” you said. “Is he safe?” Natasha nodded.

“He is. He’s with Yelena and waiting for you,” this time when your mom stepped forward you didn’t move. “So is Billy and Kate and Morgan. Just please put the gun down and we can go home.” Home? Home was where you were safe and loved by those around you. You could laugh and joke with your brothers. Play board games at the dining room table. Your hand shook as you set the gun down. It was hard to keep yourself standing and before your knees hit the ground, strong arms caught you. You buried your face into Natasha’s neck and sobbed. Your body shook from the intensities of your cries. Your tears wouldn’t stop. You felt Wanda’s magic enter your mind and every thought, memory went away and you welcomed the darkness.

When you came too, you were laying in one of the medical rooms at the tower. You were sandwiched between Billy and Tommy. The twins were asleep, their hands twisting in the fabric of your shirt in a tight fist. Wanda and Natasha were in the chairs on either side of you fast asleep. You sighed, looking up at the ceiling. It reminded you of when they found you after Jason’s attack. They sat by your side until you were healed. You were starting to wonder if you being part of this family was doing more harm then good. “You’re thinking to hard, dorogoy (sweetheart).” You looked at the witch, who was rubbing sleep out of her eyes. You offered her your free hand and she took it.

“I’m sorry,” she shook her head.

“Do not apologize,” she said. “None of this was your fault.” It was hard to believe that you were here. You held tightly onto her hand, scared that if you dropped it or looked away she would disappear. “Hey,” you forced your eyes away from her hand and looked at her. “You are home. You are safe. This is real,” you nodded. “Say it back.”

“This is real,” you repeated. “I am safe. I am home.” There was a shake in your voice that caused Billy to take up. He slowly looked around, eyes laced with sleep. His eyes locked onto yours.

“Your awake,” he said, sitting up quickly and throwing himself into your arms.

“Easy, Billy,” Wanda said. The force knocked the air out of your lungs. It was heightened by Tommy waking up and joining the hug. They hugged you tight as if they to were afraid you’d disappear. There was an ache in your body but you ignored it. You were home. Safe and home.

Natasha got the twins out of the room with the promise of getting ice cream. It was harder for Billy to leave your side but you gave him a smile and promised to play Mario Kart with him. It was just you and your moms and a part of you wished the twins were still there. You felt small under their gaze as you picked at the threads on the blanket. “Tommy filled us in on somethings that happened,” Natasha said. “Do you want to talk about anything?” You crossed your legs and starred at your hands. There was so much you wanted to say but it hurt.

“It was the group Jason worked for,” you whispered. “They found me through my parents. My parents needed money for my mom’s treatment so as an incentive to pay them back I was the bargaining chip,” you shrugged. “In the end, my mom died and my dad couldn’t pay them back so he committed suicide but a debt still needed to be collected,” you pushed away a few tears. “They needed me to steal information from Dr. Harris and get them into that warehouse to steal those drugs. And Dmitri,” you felt bile rise. You closed your eyes and you felt the couple place their hand on top of yours.

“Was like Jason, Coach Griffo, Principal Cook, and Conner. Men that tried to take something that wasn’t there’s to take,” you reopened your eyes and moved your fingers against their hands. It helped ground you. “He made his advances well known but when you found me at the warehouse he was upset and made his move. I killed him,” you sighed, biting your lip. “Natasha found me right after I did it.” You were not looking forward to the next part of this conversation. The Black Widow said your name and you looked at her. Her green eyes were a little glossy.

“I need to ask you this and I need you to be 100% honest with us, okay?” You nodded. “Are you suicidal?” You looked forward, unable to look at either of them.

“I-” you cleaned your throat. “Sometimes I feel their hands on me and the heat of their breath on my neck. I want it all to stop.”

“You didn’t answer her question,” Wanda said. Her small comment made you smile and chuckle softly.

“Because I don’t have an answer for you,” you answered. “I wish I did but right now I feel so dirty and mind is so dark and I don’t feel safe. I’m -”

“Stop apologizing.” Natasha cut you off. “Nothing has been your fault.” You nodded. “And thank you for being honest with us. So here is what’s going to happen,” you looked at her. “You are going to stay at the tower and be monitored by Helen.” That was fair.

“You are going to start speaking to a therapist,” Wanda added on. “Sam has found a few and you can decide which one you like.” You nodded again. “Sweetheart,” you looked at Wanda. Her green eyes matched her wife’s, glossy with tears. “You really scared us. We weren’t sure what was going to happen.”

“I’m-” you stopped yourself. “Thank you,” you said instead. “Thank you for saving.”

“I meant it,” Natasha said. “In that room, I said no matter where life takes you we will be by your side.” she ran her hand through your hair. “My firefly, you saved yourself. Time and time again, it has been you. We are here to show you how far you’ve come.” You smiled. It was a long and scary journey ahead of healing but you wanted to overcome everything you’ve been through. You weren’t a pawn but a queen and it was time to show the world who you are.

#wandanat x reader #wandanat x you #wandanat x y/n #wandanat x daughter!reader #natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader

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ivystoryweaver · 1 year ago

Text

Based on a combined request from @babyprofessorsharkpalace and @dowbastan. The requests were so similar that I wrote this one shot and I hope you both like it!

Summary: You're the childhood love of Duke Leto Atreides. Years have passed and your paths took you different directions. You have one final night before he leaves Caladan for Arrakis.

Pairing: Duke Leto Atreides from Dune x f!reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Content: NSFW, mdni, language, fingering, oral - m. rec., p in v, unprotected sex, size kink, nipple play, spitting, not beta'd

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An invitation to Caladan to celebrate House Atreides' appointment to Arrakis was a coveted opportunity, and an honor.

You belonged to a noble family on a neighboring planet, and your family had a history with House Atreides. In fact, you were once pledged to a young Leto Atreides.

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

Then...

Long before silver sprinkled his inky curls - before his father passed on the title of Duke - the handsome first son of Caladan was your intended.

This resulted in multiple visits to Caladan during your childhood, in which you actually befriended young Leto. The two of you remained unaware of your families' intentions for years. You played along the wet, craggy rocks and numerous caves of Caladan, and the sprawling gardens of your homeworld.

When you came of age, plans were made to announce your engagement officially. This was the first you'd ever heard of it. You visited Caladan once again with your parents, eager to see your dear friend Leto.

You were both still so young - you even more so than he. You and Leto stole away to your usual childhood spots, laughing and catching up, but this time, once you reached your favorite cave, he gathered you into his arms.

"We're to be married," he whispered, gazing adoringly into your eyes. "Does this please you?"

"Leto," you whispered, with a breathless laugh. "Who else could it ever be but you?"

His strong hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against his body as he lowered his lips to yours.

This was the last happiness you would know with your childhood love.

The Bene Gesserit installed Lady Jessica as a concubine for young Leto.

You understood that many nobles had concubines for companionship, while remaining open to strategic, political marriages. But you assumed you would be Leto's companion, as well as his wife.

Despite your protestations, you might have been forced into the arrangement anyway, except that your parents would have you nowhere near the influence of the Bene Gesserit, if they could help it.

So you didn't see Leto again for years - not until you were married to another powerful man, and Leto had a son and heir, thanks to Lady Jessica.

You had the opportunity to meet them once - young Paul Atreides and his mom. Truthfully, they were lovely and you found yourself wondering why fate had brought a man like Leto to your heart only to yank him away and give him to someone else.

Then your husband passed away. You received a note of condolence from Leto, in his own hand, no less.

'I will always cherish our fond childhood,' it read. 'Please know my sympathy and warm affection are with you always.'

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Now...

So, here you are, these years later, in the home - the castle - of your once intended. A farewell party, to honor House Atreides before they set off to oversee spice production on Arrakis.

Your invitation is nothing special. Hundreds were invited from all over. The chance of you seeing, let alone speaking with the Duke is minuscule. He likely has more important things to do than worry about widowed childhood friends.

The opulence of the occasion enchants even you for a time, but you eventually grow weary of the fake smiles and never-ending condolences. Bored with the evening, and damn near everything in your life, you wander away from the bustle and celebration, through once familiar corridors of Castle Caladan.

Hardly a thing has changed. Few things ever do in these ancient royal dwellings. You find yourself meandering along, just as you did as a child, darting from one lavish room to the next, avoiding the elder duke's stern glare.

Speaking of which...

"If I look at you at just the right angle, it almost seems like we're teenagers again."

The unmistakable voice of Duke Leto Atreides sounds over the faded swirl of orchestra music, drifting from the great hall.

"In complete darkness, maybe," you lightly return, keeping your back turned. "Seeing how I have not walked these halls since the birth of your son."

"A young man nearly grown," Leto evenly responds. "It's been far too long."

The thump of his heavy boots alerts you to his approach. You stiffen as he draws near. You suppose it's time to acknowledge your host in his own home. Before you can, however, he moves in beside you.

Just the scent of him throws you into inner turmoil. The years have been kind to Leto. He wears middle age very well. Distinguished and brutally handsome, he commands respect, despite his shorter stature.

"Too long indeed," you finally respond, longing to turn and gaze into his eyes - to see if any trace of the boy you loved still lingers.

"Let me look at you," he softly commands, boldly cupping your shoulder with his palm.

"Nothing to see." You shrug him off, or attempt to anyway. "Just a lonely widow."

He crowds into your personal space demandingly, grasping both shoulders now. "Am I such a stranger to you that you won't greet me in my own home - or even look at me? Why did you even make the journey?"

Your eyes meet his unflinchingly - a perfect match for his stubbornness. "I came to congratulate you and your family on your appointment to Arrakis. Now that I've done so, I'll take my leave."

He holds you firmly, the heat of his fingers seeping through your sleeve. "Why so soon? I've only just laid eyes on you for the first time in years and you can't even spare me a glance? You might as well condemn me to walk the sands of Arrakis alone."

"Don't be so dramatic, Leto," you mock, attempting to wrench free of his grip. "Everything you need or want is going with you to that desert rock."

"Not everything," he firmly protests, dark eyes boring into yours. His fingers, so insistently gripping your arms, relax and began to trace soothing circles on the soft fabric of your dress.

You huff, rolling your eyes, but your body automatically eases closer to the duke, as if responding to him instinctually.

"Don't pretend I mean anything to you now," you scold him, melting into his embrace, with only your words left to cut him.

"No one in this world means more to me except for my own son," he breathes on your cheek, his hands gripping your hips as he pulls you flush against his pristinely uniformed chest.

Your heart stops for a moment as you struggle to breathe. "I think you forgot Lady Jessica," you finally manage. "The Bene Gesserit's strategic installation."

He groans. "She's the mother of my heir."

"All the more reason to leave me be! I've paid my respects. I'm done here. We're done." Your chest heaves dramatically as Leto runs his hands possessively up your back, pulling you desperately close.

"I'll never be done with you," he breathes against your mouth, covering your lips with his own. You want to fight him but the heat of his tongue lures you in, your body wilting into his powerful embrace. His soft beard tickles your face as you liquify in his arms.

Taking advantage of your compliance, he kisses you endlessly, working the elegant skirt of your dress up your legs until it bunches around your waist, giving him access to caress your thighs.

His tongue thrusts hungrily but his fingers touch you softly, tracing your inner thigh, on a determined path to the core of you.

He doesn't ask - he feels your hips shift toward his caress as he strokes you through the flimsy fabric covering your folds.

He wastes no time brushing the material aside to push his knuckles against your wet heat, already slick for him. He surprises you with the brazenness of his touch. His fingers stretch out, separating your slick folds. The pad of his thumb drags demandingly down over your needy bundle of nerves as his fingers work their way into you possessively.

He groans into your mouth as you squelch and clench around him - your hole tight and unused.

You shamelessly moan against his parted, panting mouth, fucking your hips down onto his thick digits, the stretch of even two fingers stuffing you fuller than you've felt in years. His rhythm in and out is the most incredible sensation you've ever experienced in your life.

"This is all for you," he rumbles on your ear, curling his fingertips against the spongy softness inside you, making you shudder with desperate want. "Invited half the galaxy here just so I could be inside you again."

"Leto," you keen, your back arching as a wave of euphoria rolls through you, drenching his fingers with your desire.

You're instantly yanking at the belt of his uniform trousers, panting, somewhat satisfied, but not truly sated. You remember the beautiful, soft, strong body of your first lover. Your husband had no hope of comparing.

As you work him free of his pants, which drop to his knees, you gasp out an eager whine as his cock springs free, stiff and thick and already dripping for you. Without another thought, you're sinking to your knees to swipe your tongue over the proud length of him.

He sucks in a breath and growls out a swear. You can tell you've managed to truly surprise him.

You can't fit him in your mouth - there's no way, so your hands grip his shaft twisting possessively as you open wide and try take him to the back of your throat.

"F-fuck," he hisses, stumbling forward slightly and you gag, drool trickling from the corners of your mouth. Once you get your bearings, you chuckle around him because this man never loses control of any situation.

He's so thick your eyes start to water, but it feels good to have him in your hands again - to have someone want you, crave you, even.

His body is tense and impatient and he grips your chin forcefully, although not painfully, easing his stiff cock out of your mouth. You wonder what's going on, but he doesn't keep you guessing.

"Turn around," he orders, bringing your skirts back up to where they started, around your waist. "Hold this," he commands.

His hands grip your hips underneath your dress and you feel his cock rubbing against your ass as he leans over you the nearest table, his breath falling hot on your ear. He doesn't speak yet, just breathes in and out. You manage to hold your skirt with one hand while bracing yourself with the other.

Unsatisfied with your position, he grumbles out a curse, pushing you so far over that your backside is higher than your head, your body halfway sprawled across the table’s end. Leaning down, he separates your pussy lips with his fingers and spits on your cunt. You let out a whine - your own voice sounding foreign to you. Then you feel the tip of his cock drag through your wet folds, back and forth, before he finally eases in, halting as he feels how impossibly tight you are.

You whimper at the intrusion, your body thrumming with lust. This elegant duke - controlled and noble in every interaction - is grunting, his hips stuttering as he tries to fit his impossibly huge cock into your unused cunt. Your whines and his groans are shamefully loud, echoing off the ancient walls of this corridor, where anyone could find you.

"You'll take all of me before you leave here," he hisses, his fingers finding your clit, circling languidly, while his other hand wraps around your abdomen, holding you in position. He palms your breast through the fabric of your dress and you wish you could feel his skin against yours again.

You almost say as much - beg him, even, but you know these are stolen moments. Hundreds are waiting for him, probably looking for him.

But he's here, inside you. Or half inside, anyway.

"That's it, dove, let me in," he huffs, pushing in more, and more.

Tears prick your eyes because it stings but you need it so badly. "You're so big," you gasp out, "I can't, Leto. Please."

He jerks out of you so fast, you almost topple over, but the strong arm wrapped around you holds you steady. Pulling you up to your feet, he drags you by the hand to the nearest sleeping quarters down the corridor - essentially, the closest room with a door.

Securing the door, he all but rips the bodice of your dress, pawing at you until your breasts spring free. Catching your nipple between his teeth, he tugs, making you hiss out a whine, the pain and pleasure making you weak.

His tongue soothes your sore skin, coaxing your nipple to hardness. Then he suckles you while yanking at your laces and bindings.

You chant his name like a prayer, pushing your fingers into his perfectly kempt curls, twirling them into a mess as he sucks your tits, one at a time. It feels so good you could come again just from this.

But you need to feel him, to have him. This will be your only chance - you're sure of it. Barely managing to give up the sensation of having this perfect man suck your nipples, you push him back and work on the buttons of his uniform jacket. He's way ahead of you, having rid himself of everything from the waist down.

Finally, finally you feel all of him, all these years later.

He pulls you against him, kissing you deeply, gripping your thighs before hoisting them around his waist. Backing up to the bed, he eases down, sitting on the edge with you on top of him.

"Need you to take all of me," he repeats the directive, clutching your hip with one hand, while gripping his cock in the other.

Nodding, you push up onto your knees, letting him drag his tip through your folds, collecting your wetness.

"Fuck me," he commands, squeezing your hip and pushing you downward, fingertips digging into your flesh.

Bracing yourself on his broad, muscular shoulders, you sink onto his tip, breathlessly moaning at how swiftly and easily you feel full.

"More than that. Need more." His jaw is locked in unbearable tension and you feel his cock twitch as he slips deeper inside.

"Kept this cunt tight for me," he rasps, pushing again. "No one can stretch you out like I can."

"Yes," you unabashedly whine, your legs trembling as you try to hold your body up just a little longer, feeling as if he will spear you in half if you sink all the way down.

He leans back a little and uses his fingers to push your pussy lips apart. He wants to watch your squelching cunt split open over his thick cock.

"Look at how you take me," he marvels, licking his lips, using one fingertip to toy with your clit. Your back arches in ecstasy, but you still, you don't sink all the way down.

"Let me in," he snarls, rubbing you rapidly but so featherlight, you teeter on the edge of orgasm. Desperate to come, to please him, to feel all of him, you give in, letting your legs give out as you sink down - the heavy length of him searing you inside.

"Leto, fuck...fuck," you cry - wincing at the sting but reveling in the stretch.

He groans out appreciatively, but his arms quickly wind around you to support your weight and he stills the movement of his hips as you adjust to the full length of him.

"So good for me," he rasps, kissing you again. You melt into the taste of him, threading your fingers through his curls. Your breasts press against the warmth of his chest. He kisses you on and on, his legs twitching with the need to move, to push up, to thrust into your cunt, stuffed full of him.

He almost comes just from the first rock of your hips, finally feeling the friction he needs. He wants to grip your hips and force you down on his cock, over and over, but he's patient, just a little longer. Your hunger for this - for him, is almost as intoxicating as the way you begin to slowly grind your pelvis in a tantalizing, delicious rhythm.

Wanting you to feel as good as he does - needing to feel the clench of your cunt around his cock when you come - prompts him to reach between your bodies again and strum at your oversensitive clit. He meets your rocking with slow, sensual thrusts upward, sucking a mark into your throat as he coaxes you to another delicious climax.

You forget to mind the fact that this spontaneous reunion could technically result in a child. But Leto hasn't forgotten.

"Want to fill you up," he pants, desperation creeping into his thrusts. The initial sting has worn off after two orgasms, and the slick heat between your bodies creates a pleasurable friction for you both.

"Dance with me tonight," he carries on, pulling you against his chest as his thrusts grow more demanding. "You'll feel the ache of me inside you. I want you to feel me leaking out of you. You're mine."

"I belong to no man," you protest, even as your cunt flutters in agreement with him.

Just a few more thrusts and he comes with a groan, spilling deep inside you, his breath heavy on your throat.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you hold him close, keeping him inside you, reveling in these stolen moments before he disappears from your life.

Most likely for forever.

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#duke leto atreides #leto atreides #leto atreides x reader #leto atreides x f!reader #dune part one #dune fanfiction #leto atreides fanfiction #oscar isaac fic #oscar isaac characters #dune #leto atreides smut

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storydays · 11 months ago

Text

Clay X Wife! Reader

"We call them meat circles." Clay greeted his brothers dramatically. Their brothers and Poppy greeted him in varying ways before he continued to pinch and baby-talk Branch, ignoring his pleas to call him "Big Branch" or just "Branch."

A voice called out, "Clay, darling, if you want to talk to an actual baby...yours are right here." The group turned to see a light-pink-haired Troll, wearing a dress with a similar design to Clay, walking over with 2 peach color haired Tollings, one sleeping who had mini wrist bands and a diaper and one awake, a yellow pacifier in her mouth, with a couple of flowers placed in her hair and a diaper.

"Melody! Hey, sweetheart, you're finally awake!" Turning to the woman as he took the baby, his eyes softened even more, "Hey (Y/N), how was your nap? You feeling better, baby?"

(Y/N) smiled, adjusting her son slightly. "Yeah, I feel like that fog in my brain is lifted, like I can think clearer. But enough about me, who are the new Trolls?"

"Oh, yeah! Everyone, this is my wonderful wife, (Y/N), and mother of our twins, Melody and Lallo! Baby, these are my brothers, John Dory, Spruce, who goes by Bruce now, and Bit-I mean Branch. That's Poppy, Branch's girlfriend---and wait a second, where's Floyd?" Clay asked, looking for his slightly younger brother.

After explaining why they were there, Bruce spoke up. "Wait, I just realized, you're a dad, too Clay!" He laughed excitedly. Clay grinned from where they were tickling Melody. "Yeah, man! These two are only a few weeks old, but they are amazing! I wouldn't change anything for them."

Melody then started to pull on her father's wild green locks. "Ow! Mel-Mel! Let go! (Y/N), get your demon child!" "Mm-no." snorted (Y/N), as she then gave Clay their son who'd woken up wanting to play with his sister and father. "You traitor!" cried Clay, fighting his grin yelping again when one of the twins grabbed his hair and pulled hard.

Viva and (Y/N) giggled, before finally giving mercy to the CPA. They each took a twin and turned to the group to give Clay a chance to compose themself.

-----------------------------LINE BREAK-----------------------------------

(Y/N) knew it would bother Clay if he didn't try to help his brothers, but she didn't want them in danger.

Clay gave the sleeping twins a kiss on the head before pressing his forehead against hers, cupping her cheek, and wiping away a few tears. "Promise you'll be safe and come home, okay? These babies are too young to be without their dad. And I don't want to be a widow."

Laughing softly, Clay whispered, "I promise," before pressing a kiss to her lips, and let her rush off to stall Viva.

Bruce pat his brother's shoulder and led them to Rhonda. "Don't worry, buddy. We'll get you back to your wife and kids."

-----------------------------LINE BREAK--------------------------------

After freeing Clay and the others freed Floyd, they came to rest at Putt Putt village and picking up (Y/N) and the twins.

Everyone getting along so well, and Bruce offering advice for those first time parent jitters, he could see written all over both of the younger couple's face.

(Y/N) being the most supportive wife,and getting along splendidly with Bruce's wife, Brandi.

The two having a bi monthly moms date, having a monthly girls' night, with Poppy, Viva, Bridget.

Every month, (Y/N) takes her daughter Melody and Brandi brings her daughters for a mommy daughter cousins sisters in law date.

(Y/N) being the Putt-Putt troll preschool teacher, having her kids in class when they're old enough.

Melody and Lallo are both names after music(Melody being the melody of a song, and Lallo means lullaby in Spanish.)

I headcanon that the Putt Putt trolls' two main languages are English and Spanish.

Let me know what you guys think!

@vacayisland

#brozone clay x reader #brozone x reader #clay trolls #trolls band together #dreamworks trolls #x reader

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chinesehanfu · 3 months ago

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[Hanfu · 漢服]Chinese Western Han (202 BC–9 AD) Traditional Clothing Hanfu Photoshoot

She is the emperor's sister, She is also the emperor's aunt.

【About Princess Guantao Liu Piao/馆陶公主刘嫖】 Princess Guantao, Liu Piao (born before 188 BCE—died before 116 BCE), was the daughter of Emperor Wen of Han and Empress Dou, and the sister of Emperor Jing of Han. She was granted the title of Princess Guantao, but after marrying Chen Mu of Tangyi(堂邑)Marquis, she was also known as Princess Tangyi. As the aunt of Emperor Wu of Han, she was honored with the title of Dowager Dou(窦太主). Her daughter, Chen, became the first empress of Emperor Wu of Han.

Liu Piao's birth year is unknown, but her younger brother, Emperor Jing of Han (Liu Qi/刘启), was born in 188 BCE. At that time, their father, Emperor Wen of Han (Liu Heng/刘恒), was only fifteen years old and still a vassal king of han dynasty, so Liu Piao's birth year is unlikely to be later than 188 BCE. In September 180 BCE, Liu Heng was ushered to Chang'an and ascended the throne as Emperor Wen. A few months later, Liu Qi was made Crown Prince, Empress Dou was made appointed, and Liu Piao was given the title of Princess Guantao. During this period, Liu Piao married Chen Mu, Marquis of Tangyi, and they had at least two sons and one daughter. Chen Mu became the third-generation Marquis of Tangyi in the third year of Emperor Wen’s reign (177 BCE), but the exact date of Liu Piao's marriage to him is no longer verifiable.

During the Reign of Emperor Jing of Han(Princess's brother) Peirod

In 157 BCE, after Emperor Jing of Han ascended the throne, Princess Guantao Liu Piao continued to frequently visit the palace. With the favor of Dowager Dou and the indulgence of Emperor Jing, she became a significant figure in the Han court. During this time, her son Chen Jiao was granted the title of Marquis of Longlü because of his mother's status.

Liu Piao was adept at political maneuvering and used her daughter, Chen Shi（陈氏）, as a political pawn. Initially, she intended to marry Chen Shi to Crown Prince Liu Rong(刘荣), the son of Lady Li(Concubine). However, due to her frequent introduce of beautiful women to Emperor Jing, which caused deep conflict with Lady Li, this proposal was firmly rejected by her. Enraged, Liu Piao later sought a marriage alliance with Consort Wang, who agreed to the match. Through the combined efforts of Liu Piao and Consort Wang, Crown Prince Liu Rong was deposed and made the King of Linjiang in the seventh year of the Yuan era (150 BCE), and two years later, he was forced to death, with Lady Li also dying from grief.

Soon after, Consort Wang was made Empress, and her son, Liu Che（刘彻）, was established as Crown Prince and married Chen Shi（陈氏）.

During the Reign of Emperor Wu of Han(汉武帝)

In 141 BCE, after Emperor Wu of Han (Liu Che/刘彻) ascended the throne, Chen Shi was made Empress（陈氏）. As the granddaughter of Dowager Dou and the daughter of Princess Guantao Liu Piao, who had contributed to the appointment of Liu Che as Crown Prince, Chen Shi enjoyed significant favor. At this time, Princess Guantao Liu Piao had been elevated by the emperor and was honored with the title Dowager Dou(窦太主).

Later, Emperor Wu favored Wei Zifu(卫子夫), a singer from the residence of his sister, Princess Pingyang(平阳公主). This situation made Empress Chen extremely jealous, especially since she was childless and unable to conceive despite seeking medical help. Meanwhile, Wei Zifu(卫子夫) became pregnant. As a result, Empress Chen resorted to witchcraft, but Emperor Wu discovered her actions, leading to her deposition in the fifth year of the Yuan Guang era (130 BCE).

By 129 BCE, after the death of Dowager Dou Liu Piao's husband, Chen Mu, she was a woman in her sixty year old, living as a widow. At this time, she became infatuated with a handsome young man named Dong Yan(董偃). Dong Yan(董偃)'s mother had been a pearl seller, and from the age of thirteen, he had frequently visited the home of Dowager Dou Liu Piao. Known for his good looks, Dong Yan was summoned by Dowager Dou Liu Piao, who took him into her household, where he was educated and trained in various skills. At eighteen, Dong Yan served as Dowager Dou's attendant and also acted as her inner chamber servant. His gentle and kind nature, combined with their illicit relationship, led many to address him as “Lord Dong/董君.”

Later, Anling Yuan Shu(安陵爰叔) advised Dong Yan to suggest to Dowager Dou that she offer the Changmen Garden as a separate palace to Emperor Wu. Emperor Wu was pleased with this gesture and renamed the garden “Changmen Palace.” Dowager Dou, delighted with this outcome, rewarded Yuan Shu generously.

Subsequently, Anling Yuan Shu suggested that Dong Yan propose to Dowager Dou that she be ill and unable to see Emperor Wu. When Emperor Wu visited to inquire about her health, Dowager Dou expressed a desire to host him. After Dowager Dou recovered, Emperor Wu was invited to a banquet. During the event, Dowager Dou removed her jewelry, knelt to apologize to Emperor Wu, and then had Dong Yan do the same. Throughout the banquet, Dowager Dou and Dong Yan showed great respect and hospitality to Emperor Wu, who was very pleased. As a result, Dong Yan became highly favored and frequently participated in palace activities.

Han dynasty scholar-official DongFang Shuo(東方朔) was quite critical of Dong Yan, disapproving of his affair with the princess, which he felt undermined moral standards and distracted the ruler from his duties. Emperor Wu gradually distanced himself from Dong Yan, who fell out of favor and died in his thirties. After losing Dong Yan, Princess Guantao Liu Piao lived for several more years before her death. Her final wish was not to be buried with her husband, Chen Mu, but rather to be interred with her lover, Dong Yan, in Balin. This request is considered the beginning of more extravagant practices among princesses and noblewomen.

In the first year of the Yuanding era (116 BCE), her two sons, Chen Xu, Marquis of Tangyi, and Chen Jiao, Marquis of Longlü, committed suicide during their mother's mourning period due to their involvement in illicit affairs(with woman)and disputes over inheritance. The title of Marquis of Tangyi was abolished. A few years later, her daughter, the deposed Empress Chen Shi, also passed away.

In Chinese history, princesses were often unfortunate victims of political marriages and diplomatic alliances. However, there are also many fortunate examples, such as Princess Guantao. Unlike many others confined by the conservative constraints of a feudal empire, she lived a life of personal freedom and pursued her desires, breaking free from traditional limitations.

________________

📸Photo & Model :@金角大魔王i

🔗Weibo:https://weibo.com/1763668330/O3vkEFAC9

________________

#chinese hanfu #hanfu #Western Han (202 BC–9 AD)#hanfu accessories #hanfu_challenge #chinese traditional clothing #china #chinese #chinese history #china history #woman in history #Princess Guantao #漢服 #汉服 #中華風

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riding-with-the-wild-hunt · 4 months ago

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vetted fundraisers from today. please continue to give support to families like these in whatever capacities you can, they are suffering such unfathomable deprivation and grief.

july 18th:

Safaa, her husband, their baby son Amir, and Safaa's parents, who both urgently need medical treatment ($1,086/$75,000) - @safaamiroo, verified by @/90-ghost

Amira Alanqar, her two siblings, and their mother, who needs treatment for diabetes (Amira is solely responsible for her family after the loss of their father) (€14,484/€20,000) - @amira-world, verified by @/nabulsi

Ashraf Alanqar, his wife Widad Issa, and their little son Bakr (€8,974/€30,000) - @ashraf-family, verified by @/90-ghost

Wafaa Alnhal's family of 15, including four young children and a newborn (the family has already lost multiple members, including Wafaa's sister and teenage niece) (€34,690/€50,000) - @wafa-nahll, #171 on @/el-shab-hussein and @/nabulsi's spreadsheet

Widow Hadeel Abu Jiab and her family of 12, including three young children (Najwa who was orphaned, Samira who needs treatment for vision problems, and Almas who is in severe shock) and Hadeel's injured mother and brother (€2,814/€20,000) - @palestinianhadeel, verified by @/90-ghost

Salahaldin Hor, his wife Sundus, and their three young daughters, two of whom have been injured (€1,946/€40,000) - @salahaldinhor, verified by @/90-ghost

Islam Al-Najjar and his family (€15/€30,000) - @islamgazaaccount2, verified by @/90-ghost

The Ayyad family of eight, including a sick child who needs treatment to save her sight (CHF3,753/CHF60,000) - @basel-1995, @amanyayyad, #214 on @/nabulsi and @/el-shab-hussein's spreadsheet

Mohammed Atallah (needs urgent surgery after being shot with an explosive bullet) and his family of 11, including a toddler and a newborn (€3,205/€82,000) - @mohammed-atallah, verified by @/90-ghost

Ola Ahel, her four siblings, and their parents ($7,308/$20,000) - @olagaza, #205 on @/el-shab-hussein and @/nabulsi's spreadsheet

Yousef, a toddler who needs lifesaving treatment for a severe blood disease, and his parents (€4,080/€25,000) - @dima96yousef, verified by @/90-ghost

Nour Ashour, her husband, and their two little children, including Muhammad, who needs continuous treatment for disabilities relating to birth asphyxia (£55/£80,000) - @nourashour33, verified by @/90-ghost

Hala Daoud (needs vital treatment for multiple sclerosis) and her three children (€180/€17,000) - verified by @/frostedforestfairy (contact for more details)

Helping Tawfik Satoom continue his education ($902/$20,000) - @tawfiksatooom, #238 on the operation olive branch spreadsheet

Ahmed Alanqar, his wife Dina, and their four young children, one a newborn (€31,345/€35,000) - @ahmedabuyamin, #174 on @/nabulsi and @/el-shab-hussein's spreadsheet

Helping Siraj Abudayeh, his wife, and their three young children rebuild their treasured home ($6,972 CAD/$82,000 CAD) - @siraj2024, #219 on @/el-shab-hussein and @/nabulsi's spreadsheet

Shimaa, her husband Abdel, and their little daughter Juri (€386/€50,000) - @shimaashaban22, @abdelmutei, verified by @/90-ghost

5-year-old Nour, her three sisters (all suffering from malnutrition), their parents, and their grandmother ($373/$25,000) - @nourbader2019, verified by @/90-ghost

not yet vetted:

Salem Anqar, his wife Hadeel, their two little children, Salim's five siblings (three of whom are children), and their chronically ill parents (kr1,022 SEK/kr990,000) - @salemanqar

Mohammed Ayyad and his family of seven, five of whom are children (Mohammed lost his mother when she was not able to evacuate for medical care) (€11,473/€35,000) - @mohammedayyad

The Eleyan family of 18, including eight children, one a newborn (€3,185/€50,000)

Doctor Mohammed Shurrab, his wife, their child, and ten extended family members (€435/€100,000) - @684599

a small amount of your time and effort can have an immeasurable impact. please don't scroll past without engaging in some way, it really makes a difference

#palestine #gaza #boosting #donations

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formosusiniquis · 2 years ago

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inspired by this post by @ruelogy

ao3

Eddie knows he got to Hawkins a little later than everyone else. He wasn't born and raised in the six miles of town with the same eight people his whole life. There was a whole social services kerfuffle that meant he didn't land in this small town hell hole until he was the ancient age of thirteen. He knows he's destined to forever be the freaky new kid with the shaved head and the group home eyes who joined in the eighth grade. But even without all that he is fucking positive that there was no Henderson in any of his three graduating classes.

Yet here Henderson the supposed younger sits painting him a mystery week after week. Steve said this, Steve did that, Steve may very well be a delusion if the way the others giggle and sigh every time he gets brought up is any indication. Cause it goes like this: Henderson comma Dustin is a fellow Hawkins transplant. Son of a single mother -- divorced or widowed, Eddie knows enough now to be sure that fueled the Hawkins gossip mill for weeks -- who brought her young son with her. Son, singular. Dustin joined the first grade class of Michael Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair, and William Byers and that is as they say history. If there had been sons, plural, this mysterious older brother should have by all of Eddie's figurings joined Hawkins junior high right around the same time as a miserable Eddie. There should have been whispers about two new kids, there should have been someone for him to commiserate with, befriend.

Yet week after week young Dustin sits at Hellfire spinning yarns of a brother who was, what, homeschooled? Sent to a private military academy? Boarding school? Stayed at home with the mysterious father that Dustin doesn't mention -- and Eddie knows enough about fathers that go unmentioned not to break the silence -- but suddenly decided after he graduated to come join his mother and brother in Hawkins? Cause the thing is, Hawkins isn't that big. If pressed he's pretty sure he could name at least 90% of both of the classes he was supposed to graduate with and at least 75% of the group he's stuck with this year. He'd at the very least recognize them on sight, and not just cause he's dealt to the greater portion of the high school. Eddie pays attention, there are only like 400 students at the high school at any time, he should by all accounts be able to say, "Oh yeah that scrawny, bespectacled loser is Steve Henderson."

Except maybe there is no Steve Henderson, he's already faintly sure there's no Suzie so what's one more fictional friend from Dustin Henderson. Maybe this Steve is just the product of a fractured mind brought on by too much hands on parenting. Eddie knows people think all of his bad behavior is the product of underparenting, but if the opposite causes imaginary siblings he'll take the hand he got thank you very much.

Cause, sure he's doing his best to be third time lucky with this whole high school thing. He does know that compared to the should be starry eyed, but actually unsettlingly wary freshmen he is an ancient being of chaos. Yes, he feels every ounce of the five year gap between 19 and 14 when he speaks to them. But beyond all of that, he is still young. Still capable of swooning now and then; and the now is when Dustin describes his big brother and the then was all the other times Henderson the older has been detailed.

"Well that's cause I'm not really sorry, Mike," Henderson is on a tear already when he makes it to Hellfire, "I told you I have plans already."

"It's not that big a deal," Lucas placates, "we can do it another day."

"My parents won't be out of town another day," Mike sneers, "Will, you wouldn't ditch out on an all night Nintendo marathon for a date with Steve would you?" He says it like Will is the voice of the populace or something.

Maybe he is, and going by the way Will flushes a bright pink up to his bowlcut the voice of the people would in fact rather go out with Steve Henderson than hang out in a basement playing video games.

"It's not a date, he's my brother, and yeah dude I'm gonna skip out on watching you scream at Mario to go to an all night Stephen King movie marathon." Dustin says.

And swoon. That sounds like a dream.

"Like Steve would ever do something that cool, you can just say your mom won't let you come over cause my parents aren't gonna be home." Mike is surlier than usual, a trait he has noticed happens a lot when Henderson the elder gets broached. Eddie's theories range from misplaced sibling jealousy to repressed queer crush on Steve.

"C'mon kiddies save the tantrums for your mommies," he doesn't have a taste for it regardless of the answer, puberty is a bitch he's glad to be seeing the back of and Wheeler can go from being an angel to the kind of brat you do want to narc on just a little. "The rest of us have hoards to slay, maidens to save, things that don't involve listening to your play date fall apart."

He desperately wants to ask Henderson where they're movie night is taking place, because it sounds amazing and not at all because he wants to finally see this mysterious brother.

“It wasn’t even mine!” Henderson is moaning by the time Eddie makes it from O’Donnells to the cafeteria. He wasn’t that late, five minutes to plead his case for his grade at most, but Henderson could monologue with the best of them and it took about as much to get the kid going as it did Eddie, which was saying something.

“And you and Erica made fun of what was under my bed.” Lucas says with a smirk and a roll of his eyes.

“What was under your bed?” Will asks.

“We are not going to let Dustin get out of the fact that his Mom found his Star Trek porn that easily,” Mike shrieks, he sounds like he’s trying to mind his volume but it’s still too loud for a public venue, “You gave me shit for weeks about that Penthouse you found under my bed.”

“We gave you shit because you stole it from your dad,” Lucas corrects, not that anyone but Eddie hears it.

Cause as Lucas speaks Dustin is shouting, “It wasn’t fucking mine! It has to be Steve’s but try telling my mom anything about her favorite son.”

Three sets of disbeliving eyes look over at Dustin, but it’s Mike who says, “There’s no fucking way anyone is gonna believe it was Steve’s dude, just give it up.”

“I don’t even like Star Trek that much!”

Eddie has been having dreams of a mystery boy with a gorgeous head of hair and Dustin’s sweet smile. He likes horror but will pretend to get scared so he has a reason to hide his face in Eddie’s neck, and when he gets there he’s a biter. “Now, now Henderson, what kind of self-respecting nerd doesn’t enjoy the dulcet tones of Mr. Spock.”

Henderson wrinkles his little nose, what a twerp or maybe he’s thinking of his brother’s zine again, “It’s okay, but who goes to sci-fi for philosophy when you could watch space battles and deathstars.”

Eddie spares a prayer for Dustin’s English grade. “Well at least one Henderson has taste.”

He’s never had a younger sibling in Hellfire before, Gareth and Joey are only children and Jeff is way older than his miracle baby sister, so it is a treat to watch the way Henderson goes red, white, and then green as he cycles through a series of emotions surrounding his brother so fast it gives Eddie a headache.

“Dude, he probably bought it for you not knowing what it was,” Mike says, “it’s not like Steve is watching Star Trek.”

"You didn't see it."

"Maybe it was a prank?"

Eddie tunes them out, returning to the Steve in his imagination. They're slipping out of the movie they just finished, the one they bought tickets for, Steve giggles -- Eddie thinks he'd have a nice laugh, thinks he makes his brother laugh a lot -- and tugs him into The Voyage Home. "You gonna think of your favorite captain while we hide in the back row, Stevie?"

"Kirk is an Admiral now, he has been for three movies. Some fan you are."

He wonders if it’s creepy, this mental file he’s compiling on Henderson’s brother. It’s not like he knows the guy, truly a backwards fucking miracle in this two stoplight nothing of a town, but Eddies’ always liked something that he can sink his teeth into and pull apart. That’s what Steve Henderson feels like to him, like if a rubix cube was also a steak. He’s lost track of the metaphor in his own head, it’s whatever.

Cause Steve Henderson loves horror movies, but watches sappy romance flicks with his mom when they both have the same day off. Steve Henderson’s favorite color is yellow, but he only wears it on days that he can barely get out of bed; Dustin says that like it’s a warning sign for the others “Steve has his yellow sweater on today,” explaining away his absence at the arcade that afternoon. Steve Henderson could have any girl he wants -- this factoid Eddie takes with a salt, lime, and tequila -- but he never goes on dates anymore and only hangs out with his best friend and coworker. Steve Henderson baked a brownie so good Jeff moaned in the middle of Hellfire but can only over or undercook pasta when he tries.

Dustin loves his brother. Dustin thinks he’s the worst person to ever grace this side of the planet.

That Eddie thinks is at least typical for siblings, barring the Byers who seem to be so close knit they’d put the Bradys to shame.

“Henderson, my man, why the long face? We’re about to begin the most dangerous leg of your quest yet!” Hellfire was getting a delayed start -- the drama club was actually using their prop closet, go figure -- it was just him and Henderson lurking outside so Eddie did have to find his fun where he could get it.

“Steve and Robin went up to Indianapolis and they’re gonna be gone the whole weekend.” And yeah, he probably could have guessed it was about big brother Henderson. Dusty has the cutest case of hero worship when he wasn’t wishing big brother dead. “They say they aren’t dating, and it’s just for her birthday, but a weekend trip seriously it screams romance.”

“And you’re mad they didn’t bring you?”

“I could have been out of the way! Do you know the kind of specialty tech shops they have up there? I need some things you can't get in Hawkins to improve Cerebro and it's twice as much to get them mail order. I could make myself scarce for a couple hours so they can get it on.

He smacks the bill of Dustin’s cap, knocking it down over his eyes, but nobly refrains from giving him a noogie, “Dusty if you ever want to pop your little Mormon girl’s cherry, maybe don’t say shit like ‘get it on.’”

“Suzie is an angel, don’t be crude, man.” Dustin’s hands are quick as they smack him away, that must be another little brother trait.

“An angel, huh, another point in the ‘girlfriend isn’t real’ category. How many imaginary friends do you have, kid? A girlfriend in Utah and a brother that no one but your party has seen.”

The rest of Hellfire starts to trickle in, having used their time waiting for their table more wisely than Eddie has. Dustin’s comment is delayed only momentarily as he says hi to the rest of the freshmen that he definitely saw only a few minutes ago. “For the record, Suzie is very real. And you…” It’s the way he trails off that makes Eddie nervous, the way a light goes on in his eyes that sets the hair at the back of his neck on end. His danger instincts are finely honed and that's the same, 'I'm smarter than you look' Henderson was wearing when he managed to sniff out half the traps Eddie had laid out last session. "You should meet Steve, I bet I could get him to pick us up next week instead of Nancy."

He thinks this must be what the raccoons behind the trailer park feel like. The obvious trap of the shiny silver cage that's been baited so sweet it's hard to resist walking in anyway. "Sure, Henderson, tell the mysterious brother to stop by. Have him bring one of those zines that definitely belongs to him."

Dustin is especially vicious as dispatches with every creature that Eddie throws at him that day. It’s hard to be that upset, he’s feeling pretty fat and happy sitting in whatever animal control rodent trap Henderson thinks he’s got him in.

The next week’s session comes in a haze of vague daydreams and intense session prep. He’s had Steve Henderson on the brain for so long that he all but forgot about his little tête-à-tête with Dustin the week before. Forgot if not for the way that Baby Henderson is vibrating at the Hellfire lunch table when Eddie arrives.

“Steve is coming to get us from Hellfire today!” Eddie personally thinks this doesn’t quite deserve the level of reaction that it’s getting, but Henderson is so worked up no one even needs to prompt him to keep him going. “He had to leave right after his weekend trip to go deal with lawyers and shit.”

“Are they still..?” Lucas trails off, he’s clearly concerned but for all that Eddie hates that the kid is looking down the barrel of jock life he is extremely emotionally adept.

“Mom and Steve both said it was handled now. They won’t answer me when I ask any questions.”

Ominous, everything about Steve Henderson was so fucking weird. A kid who didn’t exist all through high school, that he’s never seen in town, who has lawyers now?

“Maybe Hop could,” the kid started to ask, hopeful.

“Mom says that it’s Steve’s business and we should all stay out of it unless he asks for our help.” Will responds by rote, something he’s clearly already tried before.

“So the infamous Steve Henderson is going to grace us with his presence today?” Eddie knows the answer already, but like most of his vices he can't resist indulging.

"He's taking us all out for ice cream after," Dustin agrees, "you could come too Eddie, I'm sure Steve wouldn't mind!"

"Steve minds everything," Mike grouses.

"Steve always buys your triple scoop sundae."

Eddie thinks Steve Henderson would have elegant fingers. He thinks about how they might toy with the straw of his milkshake while he smiles, coy and teasing, at Eddie, who he's charmed by. This Steve lets Eddie snatch the cherry from his drink, blushes when he gets his stem returned tied in a knot by Eddie's tongue.

"Well if Steve is buying, who am I to refuse an invitation?"

He does not end Hellfire early because Steve Henderson is coming.

He does, by pure coincidence, need to piss 15 minutes before things are set to wrap up. If that gives him enough time to clean himself up a bit that's just luck. This isn't for Steve Henderson.

His bathroom break, and definitely not pre-date primp session, puts him at the back of the pack when Steve Harrington's maroon beemer pulls into the lot. It feels a little bit like sophomore year again. When his hair was in another awkward stage of growing out and curled around his ears, he didn't have his mom to help him with the curls anymore and he didn't know what to do with them now that they seemed to twist and turn in new directions post-buzz. He caught the sweetest looking boy with puppy dog eyes staring and he'd been so embarrassed about getting caught he'd touched his own locks. Hairsprayed into oblivion and locked firmly into place the touch was ripped away and a shy, 'what can you do' smile was shared between the two of them. It feels a bit like junior year when Steve Harrington broke the keg stand record as a sophomore. Rounding the corner from tipsy into drunk or maybe bypassing it altogether for blackout, he wandered over into Eddie's domain. He had that same shy little wave, but a stronger confidence. He sidled up to Eddie and wrapped a curl around a finger. He tugged, just a bit, the way kids do when they want to see if it'll bounce back. "Yknow you'd be pretty if you were a girl." The slip slide of his definitely drunk tone didn't take Eddie out at the knees any less.

The car curves up closer to the front steps and Henderson is shaking like a rocket leaving Canaveral. He actually starts to take a step toward the still moving car when four hands clamp down on him saving Steve last-name-to-be-determined from a vehicular manslaughter charge. Eddie is the last to release him when he hears that car slide into park. The engine has barely had time to rumble to a stop before Steve Harrington is out of it. A toothy smile splits his face and, hidden behind Byers and Wheeler, Eddie watches as Steve Harrington proceeds to engage in the nerdiest fucking handshake he's ever seen. Steve Harrington finishes dying by what seems to be lethal lightsaber disembowelment and waves at the other three teens.

"Alright let's rock n roll if you twerps want ice cream before I drop you off. Joyce will kill me if you're late."

"Steve, can Eddie come with us?"

As Henderson asks Eddie now sees the exact size and shape of the trap he is in. The actually dweeby, dungeon master and drug dealer forced to watch the hot, once cool older brother bow to the obligation of Midwestern courtesy now that he's been ambushed with Eddie's existence. Or worse he'll have to stand there and pretend to be unbothered while King Steve shoots both Hendersons hopes and Eddie's dreams in the face with one curled lip.

He never could have imagined the furrow of confusion between his brows. The way lips wrap themselves around his name, tasting it. He hadn't, in his many fantasies, pictured golden brown eyes though he often thought of them snapping up to him like they were now.

A rosy blush blooms across Steve's face. He has the same shy finger wave he did as a freshman. "Depends, Dust, are you gonna give up your shotgun dibs or are you gonna make your troop leader sit in the back with the rest of the Party.”

He watches as if in slow motion as Henderson lunges for Steve, the elder is laughing as the younger wraps his arms around his neck. There is something very intensely attractive about the lingering jock of it all. How Steve is still upright even as his teenage brother dangles from his neck. “You know it’s Dungeon Master, you get it right with Erica!”

“I have a lot of respect for Erica, the things she does with goblins and kobolds is masterful. You asked me about the lead up to a trap so obvious it felt like an eagle scout showing his little cubbies poison ivy." It's bitchy and nerdy in all the best ways, and then Steve H- Steve looks up at him and winks, "No offense, Munson."

"None taken, Stevie." That seems to catch them both by surprise, the lack of a certain last name to fall back to -- and weeks of imagining what it might be like to interact with the guy who is and isn't right in front of him -- has Eddie overly familiar. "I drove here though." His van stands like a monolith alone in the middle of an empty parking lot.

"Oh."

"But I could meet you there? Are you going to the Dairy Queen by the library or the haunted one?"

"It's not actually haunted," Byers pipes in with frightening sincerity.

"But yeah, the haunted one," Steve says with a boy next door grin.

"Then I will meet you and your charges there Sir Henderson." He bows and only immediately regrets it, now that the once Harrington lord of the school is out of his line of sight. His brain feels like it could short out, faulty wires sparking against memories and daydreams and general hormones.

A sheepie he saved from the slaughter snorts, another - probably Mike - whispers "Gross." There's a grunt that Eddie hopes is the traitor catching an elbow from one of the others.

But it doesn't. fucking. matter because Steve Whatever laughs, practically giggles at Eddie and his antics.

And Dustin's rocket has come in for a rough landing, "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

Steve's hand envelopes the top of Dustin's head, he nearly palms it. It's not quite a noogie, more like he shakes his head for him. "Dusty-bun, why would you regret introducing me to your Dork Mother?"

"I'm gonna tell Ma you're being a bitch again."

"She won't believe you, I'm her favorite." He shoots another wink toward Eddie, a joke he's being allowed in on.

Level headed Dustin Henderson, who explained to him, in depth, how getting overly emotional impairs higher level critical thinking, stomps his foot. "You're so full of shit."

"I am. She chose me, she got stuck with you."

"Steve!"

He laughs at the despair he's caused, ruffling cap covered hair again until Dustin stomps out of reaching distance to climb in the Beemer with the other boys. Brown eyes are bright with mischief when he looks to Eddie, and he's struck by a thought. He was right, he hadn't ever met Steve Henderson before today. This is not the same boy who sat in the cafeteria with a closed mouth smile listening to Tommy H. and Carol. "Let me walk you to your car?" He asks.

"It's right there, Stevie, and do you really want to leave that band of miscreants alone with your car?" He's playing with fire, but the fear of getting burned has never stopped him before. He leans in close, whispers, "They might steal it."

Steve pales, a haunted look in his eye. He shakes it off, squeezing his eyes shut tight, and that soft smile slips across his face again. "Let me watch you leave then." That smile slides into a smirk, as he looks Eddie up and down.

He was right about getting burned, his face feels like it's on fire as he flees the scene. His tail is definitely not tucked between his legs because Steve is absolutely staring at his ass right now. He doesn't remember how walking is supposed to feel, but it's probably not like this. It would be embarrassing, the fact that he probably looks like a baby deer discovering he has knees for the first time, if it weren't more important that he makes sure each foot is planted so he doesn't acquaint himself with the ground below him. Safely encased in the van, he chances a look through the windshield and confirms that Steve is watching him.

He waves, and yeah it is gratifying to see the guy who at one point had half the girls in school fawning over him duck his head like he's embarrassed at getting caught staring. Sinclair leans up from the back seat, Eddie watches him clap Steve on the shoulder and make a comment on… something, probably him. It makes the rest of the car laugh and Steve thunk his head down on the steering wheel. The horn sounds, an echoing burst of noise that cuts off just as quickly as it starts when Steve jumps in his seat. The seat belt stops his jump short, and he sends another flustered wave Eddie's way when he notices him still watching.

Maybe he'll mention this to Little Red, his new neighbor has mentioned stealing young Henderson's brother and making him a Mayfield instead. A joke that makes a little more sense now. Sinclair has been making moon eyes at her and baby Hopper at lunch for the last week. That will be a better punishment than anything Eddie could do to him at the table.

He waves back at Steve, gives him his most winning smile -- the one he practiced in the mirror for charming pretty boys if he ever got out of the armpit of Indiana. Mimes driving like he's in a bad movie. Across twenty feet and two windows, he can't hear Steve laugh, needs to get to somewhere where he can. He can see the smile though, the dorky thumbs up.

He lets the Beemer pull out in front of him, watches it for just a moment as reality sets in. Reality. He's going to meet Steve Henderson for soft serve. It's a dream come true.

Arwen shifts into gear, and he slides out behind Steve and the sheepies. A whole new world of daydreaming unlocked.

Maybe next week Steve Henderson will let Nancy pick the kids up next week. He'll slip in the back doors of the school, unnoticed by everyone. Stealth bonus obscene for a fighter class. Eddie is moving slow as he moves minis and graph paper maps into the tackle box Wayne gave him, back to the door he misses his rogue slip through the door until he's already grappled.

"Was it a good game, Munson? You win?"

"It's not like one of your sports, Henderson, the wins aren't as clear cut."

Hands start to wander, "Isn't any time you pull one over on the Party kind of a victory?"

"In which case I do stand victorious, your sweet baby brother lost his brand new axe to a mimic."

"Hmm, you know what we used to do after a victory in my 'sports?'"

A hand has migrated to an especially interesting place. "What?"

"We'd hit the showers."

Eddie shakes himself out of the daydream, easing just the smallest bit harder onto the accelerator. He needs something to cool himself off with. He also really wants to see Steve again, to make up for lost time.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #steve henderson #eddie munson #ruelogy #inspired by another amazing tumblr ficlet #it put worms in my brain and then this happened

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j-k-writes · 13 days ago

Text

The Bronze Targaryen - 8

Summary - (Y/N) and his family travel to Driftmark for the funeral of his stepmother, Laena Velayron, but her loss is not the only one his family mourns.

Warnings - canon character death(s), general HOTD warnings, violence and maiming

It seemed mother nature had sensed the sober mood of the day's events. Gray clouds blocked any sunlight that might have warmed (Y/N), and cold winds cut deep into his bones despite his clothing. (Y/N) watched as ropes were tied to his stepmother’s casket, and Vaemond Velaryon began to speak.

“We join today at the Seat of the Sea to commit the Lady Laena of the House Velaryon to the eternal waters.”

Although (Y/N) mourned the loss of Laena, more for his father and young sisters than himself, she was not the only loss plaguing the prince. Both Ser Harwin and his father Lyonel had perished just days ago at Harrenhal, the very night the two had arrived. Though his children had wished to attend the funeral, (Y/N) and Rhaenyra had agreed it would only add more fuel to the rumors that haunted them.

As he continued to speak Vaemond’s gaze settled on Daemon, eyes narrowed and voice tense. “As she sets to sea for her final voyage the Lady Laena leaves two true-born daughters on the shore. Though their mother will not return from her voyage, they will all remain bound together in blood. Salt courses through Velaryon blood. Ours runs thick. Ours runs true. And ours must never thin.”

Daemon laughed to him, and (Y/N) whispered under his breath as the Velaryons glared at the man. “Father, please.”

The knights began to tug on the ropes dragging the casket slowly off the cliff and toward the sea. “My gentle niece may the winds be as strong as your back, your seas as calm as your spirit, and your nets be as full as your heart. From the sea we came. To the sea we shall return.”

As Vaemond finished, Laena's casket plunged into the ocean, leaving his father widowed once again. The crowd began their ascent back up to the balcony, (Y/N) followed his father and sisters, Rhaenyra and the boys following close behind. The guests dispersed, Viserys taking a seat in the middle of the balcony, getting drinks and food while they spoke with one another.

(Y/N) lingered by his father, watching as Baela and Rhaena sat alone. He made eye contact with Rhaenyra across the yard, nodding in the direction of the young girls and she nodded walking over to where Jace was standing.

“How are you?” (Y/N) asked.

His father turned his body toward him, an effort to keep their conversation as private as it could be with the onlookers on the balcony, “I could ask you the same question. I understand Ser Harwin was as devoted to you as he was to your wife.”

“Yes he was.” (Y/N) sighed, “We should have forbidden Harwin from returning to the Riverlands. They say Harren’s curse is as strong now as it was after the Conquest.”

Daemon scoffed, “Do you truly believe that?”

“No.” (Y/N) looked over the balcony as the dark waves crashed against the rocks below. “It’s a ghost story the queen and her father gladly exploit to hide their depravity.”

His father gave a pleased hum at the same time (Y/N) felt a small body collide with him. (Y/N) looked over his shoulder chuckling softly at the mop of brown hair pressed into his back. He turned, prying Luke’s hands from his cloak. He ran his hands through his son's hair, positioning him between him and Daemon.

“Are you alright?” (Y/N) asked, and Luke nodded silently. He placed his small wooden hawk that (Y/N) had gifted him on the bannister of his balcony, and (Y/N) gently rubbed his hand in soothing circles down the boy's back. “Why don’t you say hello to grandfather, Luke.”

Luke shyly looked up at Daemon, “Hello.”

Daemon laughed, “How is your training with Arrax going, Luke?”

(Y/N) smiled at his father, delighted that he had remembered what (Y/N) had written about his sons and their dragons in his many letters. (Y/N) watched as his father and son conversed, Luke rambling on about his many lessons with the Dragonkeepers. Distracted by the scene in front of him, (Y/N) didn’t notice his uncle’s approach

At the sight of his uncle, (Y/N) grabbed Luke’s shoulder, steering him away, “Let us go find your mother.”

(Y/N) nodded to his uncle and father before walking away. He found Rhaenyra standing toward the back of the crowd with Jace, his sisters, and Rhaenys. (Y/N) approached his sisters, and they watched him warily, they had not seen each other since their presentation at court, and then they’d been barely a year old.

(Y/N) kneeled next to Rhaenys, “Do you know who I am?” Baela nodded, and (Y/N) smiled. “Then you know I too lost my mother. I know that no amount of condolences will make up for what you have lost, and it never will. This loss may hurt, but the pain will lessen as you grow.”

(Y/N) stood, pressing soft kisses to his sisters’ hair. “If you two ever need anything, all you need to do is ask and I will provide it for you. Do you understand?”

Baela and Rhaena looked up at him, and nodded, silent tears streaming down their faces. (Y/N) turned to look at Rhaenys who just gave him a grateful nod. A commotion in the crowd startled the small group of royals, and they all turned to look at the source of the noises.

Lord Corlys had a knight by the front of his tunic, whispering harsh words that (Y/N) could not make out to the knight before shoving him through the crowd. Rhaenys sighed, standing up and brushing off her dress.

Rhaenyra turned to their boys, “Go to bed.”

“But mother-”

“Go.” (Y/N) said, and Jace and Luke frowned but walked off anyway.

As Rhaenys ushered the girls after the boys, Rhaenyra grasped (Y/N)’s hand tugging him toward the stairs. They faltered only slightly on their path at the sight of Aegon unconscious in the corner of the stairs, and (Y/N) could not stop the laugh that escaped him at the sight. Rhaenyra just rolled her eyes and continued pulling him along.

“Rhaenyra,” (Y/N) said as they walked along the beach. “Why are-”

“Can I place my faith in you, (Y/N)?”

(Y/N) paused, turning to face his wife. “What?”

Rhaenyra swallowed, continuing on ahead of (Y/N) as she spoke. “I know better than anyone our marriage was not born of love, yes we have found love within ourselves over the years but that does not change the fact that you abandoned me when I needed you most.”

“Abandoned you?” (Y/N) scoffed, “Rhaenyra I thought we were past this.”

“How can we be?”

(Y/N) grabbed her wrist, stopping her in her path, and turning her to face him. He cupped her cheek forcing her to look at him. “I did not abandon you, I spared you from the infighting that plagued my family. Did you wish to be on Runestone as I fought to keep my seat?”

“I wished to be with my husband.” Rhaenyra spat.

“I am sorry,” (Y/N) said. “How many times do I have to say that? I made a mistake, I was a child-”

“So was I!” Rhaenyra released herself from (Y/N)’s hold, walking away from him at a speed that forced him to break into a small jog to catch up with her. She was shaking her head when she stopped, cheeks wet with tears and (Y/N)’s heart fell at the sight. “I do not wish to fight with you. We have lost too much to turn on each other, but I need to know that when the time comes you will stand with our family.”

(Y/N) thought of Harwin, separated from them as he burned alive at Harrenhal. Did he think of the Prince and Princess as he died, did he think that if he had stayed away from them perhaps his life would have been spared, or did he think of how they loved each other as he took his final breath? Perhaps if (Y/N) had insisted more that he stay in Kingslanding, if he had taken him on as his Sworn Shield, a role the man had basically already held, he’d still be alive. He’d abandoned them both, Harwin and Rhaenyra, when he left and although he had won his place at Runestone it seemed he lost more in doing so than the seat itself was worth.

“I hold no loyalty to anyone capable of taking the life of a man whose only crime was loving us.” (Y/N) said. “My loyalty lies with you and our family, Nyra. It always has.”

“Do you believe Alicent capable of such a thing?” Rhaenyra asked, and (Y/N) scoffed.

“She has certainly benefited the most from the ordeal.”

Rhaenyra stopped in front of (Y/N), placing her hand on his chest. “We are not children anymore, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) placed his hand atop Rhaenyra’s, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. “I will stand by you, whatever you choose to do I am there, I swear by the old gods and the new.”

Rhaenyra captured his lips in hers, her free hand snaking its way up his shoulder into his hair. (Y/N) groaned as she desperately grabbed at his hair, and his hands moved down to her dress but a distant roar startled them apart before he could undo its laces.

“Vhagar?” (Y/N) asked, watching the dragon as it soared in circles around Driftmark.

“It seems your sister has finally claimed a dragon.” Rhaenyra smiled at him, but it soon fell at the look upon her husband’s face.

“Rhaena is in bed.” (Y/N) frowned, eyes narrowing. He grabbed Rhaenyra’s hand, “Something is wrong.”

He and Rhaenyra hurried to High Tide, (Y/N) taking the stairs to the castle two at a time. Rhaenyra and (Y/N) rushed through the halls of the castle, only the sound of raised voices guiding their way. When they reached the throne room (Y/N) threw open the doors scanning the crowded room until his eyes landed on his sons. Jace and Luke stood by Rhaena and Baela, all four children covered in dirt, bruises, and blood.

“Jace? Luke!” Rhaenyra rushed over to their sons, (Y/N) close behind her. Rhaenyra crouched in front of Luke, carefully taking his hand away from his face to reveal his injured nose.

(Y/N) looked between his sons and his sisters, “Who did this?”

“They attacked me!” Aemond shouted from behind Mathos, and he turned, giving (Y/N) a clear view of his cousin’s injuries. His eye was sewn shut, red, bloodied, and swollen. The cut trailed down from the middle of his forehead down to his jaw line, and (Y/N) frowned at the sight of it. The boy would no doubt lose his eye.

“He attacked Baela!” Jace yelled out behind (Y/N).

“He broke Luke’s nose!”

The children began to shout overtop of each other, having to be held back by their parents as they got progressively more aggressive as the argument continued on. (Y/N) managed to catch the reason of the fight, it was Aemond who had claimed Vhagar not Rhaena. Viserys tried to silence the argument, as his wife joined in with her own shouting. (Y/N) ignored the shouting around him, turning Luke to look at him and taking his own look at the boy's nose.

“Silence!” Viserys yelled, causing everyone in the room to quiet.

“He called us bastards.” Jace whispered to his parents, and both (Y/N) and Rhaenyra tensed. Rhaenyra shot (Y/N) a pointed look, and he sighed, turning to face the rest of the room.

“Aemond I will have the truth of what happened.” Viserys approached his son. “Now.”

“What else is there to hear your son has been maimed, her son is responsible.” Alicent said, and (Y/N)’s tensed further, hand subconsciously reaching for the blades kept in his belt.

“It was a regrettable accident.” Rhaenyra’s eyes caught her husband's movement, and stepped in front of him and their children.

“Accident?” Alicent asked. “The Prince Lucerys brought a blade to the ambush. He meant to kill my son.”

(Y/N) opened his mouth to speak, but Rhaenyra cut him off before he had the chance. “It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves. Vile insults were levied against them.”

“What insults?” Viserys asked, and Alicent paled.

“The legitimacy of my son's birth was put loudly to question.”

“What?” Viserys’ said.

“He called us bastards.” Jace yelled out, and (Y/N) placed a hand on his shoulder.

“My sons are in line to inherit the iron throne, your grace. This is the highest of treasons. Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders.”

“Over an insult?” Alicent scoffed. “My son has lost an eye.”

“You tell me boy. Where did you hear this lie?” Viserys approached Aemond.

“The insult was training yard bluster.” Alicent pleaded behind her husband. “The lot of boys, it was nothing.”

“Aemond, I asked you a question.” Viserys ignored his wife, continuing to question the injured boy. “Aemond, look at me. Your king demands an answer who spoke these lies to you?”

(Y/N) could not get a look at his cousin, the large chair he was sitting in blocking his view. But he saw his uncle shoot a dirty look at his wife as Aemond delayed his response. Finally the boy spoke. “It was Aegon.”

“Me?”

Viserys rounded on Aegon, “And you boy? Where did you hear such calumnies?”

Aegon was silent.

“Aegon! Tell me the truth of it!”

“Just look at them.” Aegon said under his breath, and Rhaenyra stepped further in front of her husband and children. Viserys looked back at his wife, who at least had some decency to look ashamed.

“This interminable infighting must cease!” Viserys yelled, glaring daggers at his family members. “All of you! We are family! Now make your apologies and show good will to one another. Your father, your gransire, your king demands it.”

Viserys slammed his cane down at the end of his speech, the sound of wood meeting stone echoing through the room. He looked more defeated than (Y/N) had ever seen him as he turned around to make his departure.

“That is insufficient.” Alicent begged, eyes wet with tears. “Aemond has been damaged permanently, my King. Goodwill cannot make him whole.”

“I know, Alicent, but I cannot restore his eye.”

“I know because it has been taken.”

“What would you have me do?” Viserys was obviously exhausted, and his wife’s protests were doing nothing to help the sickly king.

“There is a debt to be paid.” Alicent stated, and (Y/N) tensed at her next sentence. “I shall have one of her son's eyes in return.”

“My dear wife.”

“He is your son, Viserys.” Alicent cut him off with a whimper, and if she was someone else (Y/N) may have pitied her, but he could not bring himself to feel bad for the Queen after all she had done to damage his family. “Your blood.”

“Do not allow your temper to guide your judgment” He spoke, and it was clear by the tone of his voice that that was the end of it. He walked away once again, and (Y/N) allowed himself to relax, sighing softly.

Alicent was not satisfied with her husband’s action though, “If the King will not seek justice the Queen will. Ser Criston.” She turned to face Criston, all of the desperation of her previous expression gone. “Bring me the eye of Lucerys Royce. He can choose which eye to keep, a privilege he did not grant my son.”

“You will do no such thing.” (Y/N) said, stepping next to his wife and placing both of their sons behind him.

“Stay your hand.” Viserys ordered Criston.

“No you are sworn to me!” Alicent yelled, glaring at the knight when he still made no move. Criston looked around the room, shifting in his spot, before he looked back at Alicent.

“As your protector my Queen.”

Alicent scoffed, arm falling to her side in defeat, she looked at her husband in disbelief. Luke buried his face in (Y/N)’s side, and (Y/N) brought an arm up to wrap around his son’s side. Jace looked up at him, and (Y/N) reached his free hand out for Jace to grab as he brought his eldest into his side as well.

“Alicent.” Viserys said, anger clear across his face. “This matter is finished, do you understand?” Viserys turned away from his wife, obviously not caring about the glare she sent his way, and faced the crowded room. “And let it be known: anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra’s sons should have it removed.”

“Thank you father.”

As Viserys turned away, (Y/N) let his sons go, ready to send them to their chambers so they could be looked after properly before he sent them back to bed. With his back turned to the crowd he did not see as Alicent grabbed the knife from Viserys the chaos and yelling that erupted throughout the room was the only indication to the Royce Prince that anything had happened. (Y/N) turned as Luke looked at the scene behind him and screamed. At the sight of Alicent approaching Rhaenyra with the knife held high in her hand, (Y/N) grabbed the hilt of his sword, stepping toward his wife. Ser Harrold grabbed the Prince before he could reach Rhaenyra and Alicent, grabbing him from behind and taking his wrist in hand. Ser Harrold dragged him back from the two women, grunting as (Y/N) struggled against his grip.

“Let me go.” (Y/N) spat, but Ser Harrold just tightened his grip.

“You’ve gone too far.” Rhaenyra said in the circle, her hands the only thing preventing Alicent from bringing the Valyrian steel knife down into her chest.

“I? What have I done but what was expected of me? Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, the law. While you flout all to do as you please.” Alicent spat, ignoring both his husband and her father’s commands to stop as she continued, tears streaming down her face. “Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? It’s trampled under your pretty foot again. And now you take my son’s eye, and to even that you feel entitled.”

“Exhausting, wasn’t it?” Rhaenyra sneered at the woman she had once called a friend. “Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness. But now they see you as you are.”

Rhaenyra pushed Alicent away, but it was too late. Alicent brought the blade down onto Rhaenyra’s arm as both women were caught. A harsh silence fell over the crowd as (Y/N) finally freed himself from Ser Harrold’s grip. He grabbed Rhaenyra’s arm, hearing gasps as blood dripped down her arm and onto the floor. (Y/N) heard the dagger drop to the floor, and he reeled on Alicent.

“If you raise a blade to my wife again-” (Y/N) spat, but Rhaenyra grabbed him, interrupting his threat.

“I am fine.” Rhaenyra lowered her voice, “Do not escalate this further.”

“She attacked you.”

Rhaenyra did not respond, simply shaking her head at her husband.

“Do not mourn me, Mother. It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye but I gained a dragon.” Aemond spoke, and the look he gave (Y/N)’s family made his throat tighten.

“This proceeding is at an end.” Viserys said, turning and finally exiting the throne room. Alicent followed soon after, flanked by Ser Criston and followed by her children. Corlys and Rhaenys escorted their granddaughters back to bed, followed closely by Daemon. (Y/N) turned to his wife, still bleeding, gently grabbing her arm and guiding her out of the room. Jace and Luke followed silently as (Y/N) and Rhaenyra walked to their chambers, the maester had also followed the group out of the room immediately tending to Rhaenyra as soon as (Y/N) sat her down in a chair.

There would be consequences to the night’s mess, that was the only thing (Y/N) was sure of. The strained relationship between the Queen and Rhaenyra was no secret, but a couple petty insults over the years were easy to brush off, the violent quarrel in the throne room of Driftmark surrounded by Lords, Ladies, and Knights of the realm was not.

(Y/N) watched silently as Rhaenyra’s arm was stitched up, Rhaenyra stood as soon as the maester had finished and turned his attention to Jace and Luke. (Y/N) followed his wife as she walked over to the balcony, watching silently as Rhaenyra looked down at the ocean. She cleared her throat before speaking.

“If I am to be Queen I need strong allies.” She said, “I cannot afford to fight for my seat as you did. The greens have proved their intent tonight, we cannot be caught off guard when they decide to make a move.”

“You have the power of House Royce behind you.”

Rhaenyra smiled, giving a thankful nod to her husband. “And your father? I know you two have not seen each other in years but-” She paused, taking a deep breath. “We need Daemon on our side, and with Daemon comes your sisters, which comes the Velaryon fleet.”

(Y/N) nodded, “I will speak with him.”

He found Daemon on a balcony not thirty minutes later.

“I’m sure you have heard your fair share of condolences,” (Y/N) said, and his father looked up from where he was staring off into the distance, turning to look at his son. “But I am sorry.”

Daemon gave him a soft smile, “Don’t be. I am at least allowed to mourn my losses.” Daemon reached his hand out, and (Y/N) took it relaxing as his father brought him into his side. He felt Daemon press a soft kiss into his hair, and smiled to himself. “I have missed you, zaldrītsos”

(Y/N) laughed, “I am a grown man, father. You cannot call me that.”

“I will call you what I like.”

“I have missed you too, kepa.”

He had not seen his father in person since Baela and Rhaena’s presentation at court. Although the two wrote to each other as often as they could, words on a page could not fill the gap of his father’s absence. They’d only just mended the hole in their relationship when his father married Laena, running off to Pentos to avoid Viserys wrath. Afterwards (Y/N) wanted to hate his father for abandoning him again, but he found he could not bring himself to.

“Come back to Dragonstone with us.” (Y/N) said, and Daemon stiffened, pulling away from his son to look at him with an eyebrow raised. “I miss you, and I wish to know my sisters.”

Daemon smiled, “That is not the only reason. Is it?”

“No.” (Y/N) looked out to the sea of Driftmark, he could just barely make out the shape of Dragonstone across the waters. “If Rhaenyra is to be Queen her subjects must love her, yes, but they must fear her as well. I have spent this last decade fighting to secure my seat, but the throne of Runestone is not the Iron Throne. I can only help Rhaenyra so much, but with you-” (Y/N) paused, unable to tell where his rant was going. He frowned, rubbing his brow. “We need you, father.”

Daemon smiled, he cupped (Y/N)’s cheek, “Anything you need, I will provide.”

---

Translations -

Zaldrītsos - little dragon

Kepa - Father

#x male reader #house of the dragon #x reader #x y/n #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon x male reader #house of the dragon x y/n #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x male reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader

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written-in-flowers · 8 months ago

Text

At First Glance: (Otto x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Otto Hightower x Fem!OC

Genre: smut, fluff

Word count: 11k

Summary: Let's go back to the beginning of our Rosebud and her Hightower. Ser Otto is slotted to marry the young Tyrell girl, expecting resentment and disgust. However, his young bride proves him wrong quickly and erotically.

Tags: arranged marriage, old/young relationship (consensual), pool sex, poolside sex, public sex, oral (m. and f. giving/receiving), teasing, dirty talk, nipple play, breast worship, facials (kind of), tongue fucking, first time, a bit of coaxing on both parts but it's all consensual.

Masterlist!

***

They’d traveled for nearly two months before they finally saw it in the distance. Sitting high on a verdant hill, the Manderly river flowing nearby, was Highgarden. Seat of House Tyrell, it was a stone castle full of life, laughter, and light. White stones made up the high walls circulating the castle up top, each layer growing in height. Fields of golden roses stretched across the land, the fresh air flowing through to blow their sweet fragrance. The scene of natural beauty was such a stark contrast to the wretched, crowded, infested King’s Landing far away. Being near Highgarden put one in a completely different world, and Otto could see the appeal. How could someone want to live in King’s Landing or Oldtown when they had the flowers and entertainment of Highgarden?

Otto thought about this as the wheelhouse pushed through the land towards the castle beyond. The Harvest Moon Festival was the biggest event in all of The Reach; the occasion was made twice as special due to The King’s progress happening to travel right through. Lord Gareth Tyrell responded to his raven with enthusiasm, as he looked forward to hosting The King’s party as well as seeing his childhood friend, Otto. House Tyrell were wardens of The Reach; House Hightower reigned in Oldtown, sacred place of The Citadel, The Starry Sept, and a notable trading port. The two great houses often mingled together through trade and politics. His older brother, Hobert, told him he’d recently drawn up new terms for House Tyrell to keep their families’ trade agreement going. The best way to seal this deal is through marriage. Hobert already married off his daughter and two sons. Otto had Alicent, who married King Viserys and was now queen; his son, Gwayne, was married with children as well. Hobert, having a living wife, turned his eyes to Otto.

Widowed several years ago, he never considered finding another wife. No woman he met compared to Leyla, who’d been the light of his life. Being two-and-fifty, he told Hobert he’s too old to remarry; he had no desire. Hobert doubled down and reminded him of the importance. He thought he’d get some say in how his life went on after Leyla. But, he knew that his family must go on, and trade relations must remain on good terms. But still, it was madness. Gareth must be surely suffering from a bout of desperation, and will change his mind as he is so prone to doing. The offer might’ve been made on a whim; another fanciful idea his old friend made and will regret upon Otto’s arrival. Yet, for now, he must settle with the idea of marriage once more.

Hobert told him he and Gareth can discuss dowry and dates when he’s chosen his bride. From what Otto recalled, Gareth and his wife, Jalissa, have six children: three boys and three girls. The youngest girl is only an infant, hardly fit to marry. The second eldest is one-and-ten, Aemond’s age and still not fit for a man like him. That left his eldest daughter, who was three-and-twenty. Lady Y/N Tyrell, “The Rose of Highgarden”, “Flower of The Reach”, “The Golden Flower”. Tales of your beauty and grace ran from Highgarden to Oldtown, and from Oltown to King’s Landing. You’d never been seen at court, but this was mainly your father’s doing. Gareth was very protective of his first-born daughter; Otto heard he turned down offers from younger suitors for the pettiest of reasons. He must admit he was surprised when Gareth wrote to Hobert about a possible marriage pact. He’d written a raven for Otto as well. He’d extolled his daughter’s obvious surface beauty, but her virtues and talents as well.

‘Y/N is my most precious flower. I’d only entrust her to the noblest of men.’

You’ll be disappointed, no doubt. Perhaps when he and Gareth spoke in private, he could convince him to make a match with another Hightower or related member. Marriage might not be needed at all. They’ve made such agreements without it before now. He couldn’t marry again. Not because of the ceremonies or feasts or events beforehand, but because then you will carry the surname ‘Hightower’. You’d be ‘Lady Hightower’. Leyla was Lady Hightower. Lady Leyla Hightower. He pictured her even now as the wheelhouse passed through the final gate into Highgarden. He remembered the slender beauty with ginger curls and large brown eyes, who cheered for him the loudest and held his hand through the difficult times. It made his heart ache. Even if you are beautiful, there is no guarantee he’d like you or that you two had anything in common.

The wheelhouse stopped when they reached the stone roundabout in front of the doors of Highgarden. On the walls, he saw crawling vines of roses and small flowers going up from the ground; more of them bloomed in the bushes lining the courtyard and the large fountain in the middle. He saw armored guards in silver with green cloaks standing by the steps, and a long green and gold carpet leading from door to bottom step. Right in front of the entrance, he spotted Gareth. A large man with dark brown hair, his mustache had grown thicker since Otto last saw him and gray hairs now mixed with the brown. Beside him stood Lady Jalissa, a willowy woman with auburn hair braided down her back, holding an infant swaddled in a green blanket. The children who remained at home stood alongside them: heir to Highgarden, Matthos, stood a tall as his father, a man grown with his own family; the twins, Loras and Horas, who were Aegon’s age of six-and-ten; Elise, the second eldest daughter who wore a dress of pale pink and gold with her thick hair braided, and the eldest daughter, you. His stomach churned as he forced himself to ignore you.

His nerves tried overcoming him as the wheelhouse stopped in front of the party. No, he wouldn’t let himself be anxious. Otto took a deep breath and stepped out of the wheelhouse. The warm breeze coming through didn’t feel unpleasant; it felt quite relaxing. How can an old man like him take you away from such a beautiful home? You must hate him for it.

“Otto!” Gareth held out his arms to Otto, and beamed brightly. Otto stepped forward and the two men embraced, laughing and patting one another on the back. “You look well, Otto. You look well,” he commented, “I just finished writing a letter to Hobert. He’s been badgering me about the damn trade routes! He tells me bandits and outlaws have been stopping his export cargo.”

“He mentioned the same to me as well. Let’s hope our alliance might help things.” Hobert often scolded his younger brother about not caring more about trade between Highgarden and Oldtown. He looked down the line to Jalissa and the infant in her arms. “Lady Jalissa,” he smiled at her, kissing the back of one of her hands, “You look lovely as ever.”

“Highgarden welcomes you, Otto,” she beamed back. “I’d like you to meet our newest Tyrell: Adeline.”

“How charming,” he said, tickling the baby’s chin and watching her smile. “She looks like you.”

“Thank the Gods,” Gareth added, “If she looked anything like me, I’d have a hard time marrying her off.” The three friends laughed before he said, “Speaking of marrying off…Ser Hightower, this is my daughter, Y/N.”

Radiant. That was the only word he could find to describe you. Everything about you was soft and gentle. It shined. You shined. Pretty eyes blinked up at him shyly, and your soft lips curled into a smile. Your dress was a painted gold vest with short sleeves, with a scarf underneath to cover your chest. The skirt was a fine light blue fabric that hung to your feet. His eyes spent time taking in all your features. For once, rumors spoke truthfully. The Rose of Highgarden was the epitome of beauty.

“Ser Hightower,” you said in a soft spoken voice, curtsying for him. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“And you, Lady Y/N.”

Leyla didn’t speak softly or show signs of shyness when they met. She’d been bold and out-spoken. She made a statement simply by the way she stood. You took charge in a different way. Gareth and Jalissa introduced their children. Seeing young Elise, he knew Gareth will propose a match between the king’s household and his own. Gareth never missed an opportunity to make alliances or connections to other great houses. He finally led them all inside the castle. Tapestries, fine art, and sculptures decorated every hall. He saw the vines from outside creeping through windows and onto the inner walls. Any earthy scent the rooms might have was blown away by the fresh air coming in through the wide corridors. Gareth started giving instructions to a castle guard, while Jalissa came into step beside Otto.

“How are you, Otto?” she asked.

“I’ve been well.”

“No, I mean right now,” she said. “Being betrothed after Leyla…it must be troubling you.”

He caught sight of you ahead of him. You glided as if walking on clouds above the sky. He spotted the golden rose pin keeping your hair back. “Your daughter’s so young, Jalissa,” he said quietly. “She should be marrying someone closer to her age. I can name five young men who’d be better suitors.”

“And my lord husband will find a reason why each one is not worthy of our Y/N,” she replied. “It has been an absolute struggle securing a marriage for her. He always had one reason or another: ‘the boy is too brash’ ‘the boy is too dim-witted’ ‘the boy is a brute’.” She sighed defeatedly, “When Hobert mentioned marriage, he jumped at the chance.” She glanced over at him, “He trusts you; he always has.”

“I’m old enough to be her father. She must be repulsed by the idea of marrying me.”

“Trust me,” she chortled, “My Y/N is overjoyed to be marrying you.”

“Of course, I’m a Hightower of Oldtown. It offers her protection, wealth and security for the rest of her life.”

“That is not the only reason she’s happy about it.”

Otto felt there was more in the statement than Jalissa said out loud. He looked back over to you as they walked into the Grand Hall, the central hub of Highgarden. Otto expected melancholy or a hidden fury in them, but instead he saw a subtle joy. You talk animatedly to Elise, the both of you giggling together before you looked over at him. You gave another sweet smile that melted hearts before bashfully looking away. No, that’s absurd. Jalissa meant to ease any doubts and worries he might have; maybe to keep him from running away, but she should know by now.

He never runs from his duties.

A spread of food and drink had been put out for the guests, no doubt to let them rest as their belongings were taken to their apartments. He spoke with the other lords of the Reach who’d come for the festival and his nuptials, reconnecting and greeting old friends from home. But, his eyes occasionally casted over towards you. You stood with other noble ladies, no doubt gossiping and chatting amongst yourselves. He couldn’t overcome the look you’d given him. Otto wouldn’t lie. The thought of you desiring him sounded appealing. He liked imagining such a beautiful creature wanting him, aching for him. He briefly pictured you coming to him, sneaking into his chambers and asking for him rather than him sending a maid to collect you for him. The odds of that were unlikely. Very.

****

You’d heard many things about Ser Otto Hightower, your father’s childhood friend. You heard your father recount stories about him and Ser Otto, and your mother often spoke kindly of him. They both told you he’d make a good husband; he’d treat you honorably and keep you comfortably for the rest of your days. You heard other people say he was methodical and ambitious, which you could understand. Your own father can be the same way at times. You supposed all men are ambitious, in truth, but that did not intrigue you.

“He’s so…old, though,” said Maera, one of your ladies-in-waiting. She and your other companions stood in a circle on the other side of the room. You saw the disgust on her face as she looked over at Otto. “He could be your father.”

“My father says his family is wealthy and pious,” you told her, trying to find a reason to excuse your compliance. “He seems kind enough.”

And handsome, though you’d never say so out loud. Ser Otto Hightower carried a refined, regal aura that made him stand out. The boys brought forward as suitors bumbled about, tried too hard to impress you, or spoke about your beauty endlessly with no substance. Ser Otto hardly said a word to you since meeting apart from his greeting, but you’d seen the recognition in his eyes. Your eyes looked over his tall stature, the light brown in his beard and the ginger in his auburn hair. It gave him a more respectable appearance. You did not know much about him besides what your parents told you, and you considered approaching him first. Yet, the thought tightened nerves in your stomach. What would you say to him? How would the conversation go? What if, like all the others, he saw you as an object to possess? You knew you’d be miserable if the latter was true. So many men seeking your hand saw you as a trophy to be won. You’d be a pretty, shiny jewel they can flaunt at balls and feasts. Your father, thankfully, hated every man who stepped through the door with your name on his lips.

Except Ser Otto.

You watched him speaking jovially with other lords of The Reach. Many people came from all around the region to attend the Harvest Moon Festival; many came for your upcoming wedding, which was at week's end. Several of your friends and relatives worked tirelessly on their gowns for the ball at the end of the week. Your seamstress recently finished the last draft of her designs for you, bringing your vision of a dress of maple leaves in orange, yellow, and red to life, and started sewing. Tonight, your father plans to host a welcoming feast for all the noble houses attending, and you have your gowns lined up for the entire week. You’d made sure they were eye-catching, pretty and slightly provocative. Men Ser Otto’s age tended to like pretty girls who flaunted their bodies. Your mother told you he was an honorable man, who wouldn’t want a wife who shows so much skin, so you held back into a more subtle gown. Still, you hoped Ser Otto approached you tonight.

That little voice in the back of your head hoped he did more than talk.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!” Elise, your younger sister, bounced over to you. In her hands, she held several flower crowns of different colors. She already wore her crown of pink carnations and baby’s breath on her head. “Mother wishes for the ladies to wear these tonight!” she held them out for your friends to grab, “And she said you get to wear this one.”

Your flower crown had gold roses woven into green leaves and feathers. Looking over to where your mother stood, a wet nurse holding your baby sister, you both locked eyes. She gave you a knowing smile, then nodded her head towards your father and Ser Otto. You returned with a nervous look, and shook your head. She gave a visible sigh, as if to say “alright, but you must speak with him eventually”. You would. Just not now. Especially not with your friends so closely watching.

“I heard his wife died some time ago,” said Cornelia, holding her own crown of blue and white flowers. “She fell ill from a fever and passed away. Maybe he’ll be so distraught over his wife still, he won’t pay you much mind. My mother says the only time I’d need to see my husband is at the bedding and on formal occasions. Perhaps the same will be for you.”

“I hope not.”

“What?” said Maera incredulously.

“I’d always hoped to have a loving marriage,” you admitted, playing with the crown in your hands. “A husband who adores and loves me like in the stories.”

“Life isn’t a fairytale, Y/N,” she replied, drinking from her wine cup. “My mother says women in this realm are dealt bad cards, and we must adapt to them or else we lose. My father promised me to August Tarly,” she said the name with disdain, “Once he’s been knighted.”

“Seeing how August Tarly wields a sword, I can’t imagine that’ll be any time soon,” you said.

"I'm not counting the days, is all I can say."

You looked back at Ser Otto, who happened to catch you at the same time. Warmth filled your cheeks, you smiled and turned away. You hoped he was as kind as your mother said. If not that, then at least civil and decent towards you. A part of you worried you may spoil everything and Ser Otto chooses not to marry you. He might not be fully over his wife’s death, and find another way to avoid marriage. You'd thought about sneaking away until you spotted Ser Otto heading into the gardens from afar.

"I will see you all tonight," you told the women, and swiftly moved through the crowd without an explanation.

You stayed by the stone archway leading into the vast gardens beyond. Other guests stayed spread out through the blossoming flowers and fountains, and you saw him talking to Lord Tarly, shaking hands and smiling. You never knew how to tell your friends about your taste in men. They all swooned over the handsome, young knights and lords who came through Highgarden, each of them fighting for the man’s attention. You, however, found yourself admiring men much older than you. Older men were more experienced in life and love. Now, you didn’t fall in love with the wrinkled, elderly men who sat in chairs and walked about on sticks. You liked men like Otto, middle-aged and still fit. You hoped your father would fight for the marriage if Otto should suggest another form of alliance. You’d love nothing more than to be his wife.

Otto eventually left the company of Lord Tarly and his men, and walked towards the garden maze. Having grown up within the walls of Highgarden, you knew the garden maze like the back of your hand. Waiting until he’d disappeared through the archway, you stealthily followed him inside. The tall hedges made narrow paths going in all directions, each path leading the wanderer into groves of fruits and flowers, small sitting areas, or bathing pools. Perhaps he may get lost, and you can happen to have come upon him? You were merely enjoying your family’s gardens, and found him?

‘Oh, forgive me, Ser. I thought I was alone…What? You’ve gotten turned around in the maze? Ha, that’s alright. Everyone does. Come, I will lead you back to the party…” You entertained yourself with the idea of coming upon Ser Otto in the citrus groves. Oranges, peaches, and apricots growing on trees, and their sweet smell hanging in the air. You moved along the trodden path Ser Otto had taken, hearing footsteps nearby and sensing it might be him. “What was that, Ser? Where is my chaperone? Well, Septa Gaunt’s ankles often swell when standing too long, so I left her sitting by one of the fountains…Why yes, I am happy to be marrying you. I promise I will be a good wife to you and mother to our children…No, Ser, I would not be opposed to you kissing me right now…I wore this gown just for you. I hope you like it…Oh, you wish for me to remove-”

“-It seems I am not the only one who enjoys the infamous Tyrell garden maze.”

You jumped at the sound of his voice. Turning around, you saw Otto standing in the entryway to the small courtyard you’d walked into. Benches on either side of the small space, a fountain of The Maiden holding her arms out as birds zoomed around her stood in the center. It was one of your favorites. Made of bronze, it shone in the morning sunlight, and the water spewed from her hands like crystals into the pond around her. The daydream running in your mind immediately dissipated when you caught sight of him. A deep heat rushed up your neck and burned your cheeks.

“Oh, um, Ser Otto, my…you, um, uh, gave me a fright…” you sounded so childish. ‘Gave me a fright’. You could’ve kicked yourself right then and there.

“Forgive me, my lady,” he replied, “That was not my intention.” He spotted the fountain behind you, “Ha, it seems your mother’s statue is still here.”

“Ha, uh yes. It is.”

“I remember when your father commissioned this. It’d been after he married your mother,” he told you, coming up to your side. “He told me she was The Maiden in flesh, and wanted to dedicate a statue to preserve her beauty for eternity. He’s always been the hopeless romantic, your father,” he snorted.

“You, um, see quite close to him and my mother,” you said, grabbing at topics to discuss. “He said he’d been fostered at The Hightower in Oldtown?”

“Yes, he was,” he nodded. “He came to us after our fathers decided to renew Hightower and Tyrell ties. Fosterage was a lot more common back then. Your father and I became fast friends, training and being educated together. I suppose my father really did it because I never had many friends my own age. My brother was much older than me by that time, and I had no other siblings. I grew to truly cherish your father,” he said to you. “And him in return to me. I suppose that’s why he’s so adamant that I be your husband.”

“Our families truly are intertwined,” you said, watching the clear water spill from the statue's ring of flowers underneath. “My father says a marriage between our house and yours will be beneficial to both parties. He says the trade routes aren’t very safe these days, and House Hightower can provide more men to guard them.”

“We can…” you heard his voice trailing off before he said, “Lady YN, I considered asking your father to call off our engagement.”

The words sunk your heart into the acidic pits of your stomach. You looked over to him, and said, “Ser?”

“I’m an old man, my lady,” he replied, not really looking at you. “A woman your age should be matched with someone younger and fitter than I. I already have children and grandchildren of my own. You cannot possibly wish to marry someone as old as me. I know your father wants the best for you, and I assure you that is not me.”

“But, Ser…” the fact that he thought he wasn’t a suitable husband for you shattered your hopes and dreams. Your mother always said you hoped far too high. You played with the belt around your waist, and said, “I do wish to marry you.”

He huffed in a laugh, “There is no need for flattery, my lady. There is nobody around to hear you.”

“I am not trying to flatter you, Ser. I mean it,” you turned completely to face him, hoping he’d see the sincerity there, “I would very much like to be your wife.”

He faced you, hands behind his back, “And why is that? There are plenty of boys in this region who’d cut a man down to be with you. You’d certainly be a good match for my grandson, Prince Aegon, were he not already betrothed.”

“I don’t want a boy. I want a man,” you stated, cringing at how foolish it sounded out loud. “What I mean to say is that the boys that have come forward are all simple-minded, brutish, and only see me as a trophy.”

“And what makes you think I wouldn’t see you that way, hm?” he stepped closer to you, his body a foot away from yours. It left you breathless for a moment, and a slew of scenarios ran through your mind.

“Because we’ve been standing in this yard alone and you haven’t tried to touch or kiss me,” you said, letting the idea settle into his mind. “My mother has told me many great things about you: how you were Hand of the King, all the good things you did for the kingdom, and that you’re an honorable and pious man. And besides,” you moved to him until you were inches from each other, smiling softly, “I quite like older men. They’re much more experienced in life and…marriage.”

You heard him let out a soft sigh, his eyes scanning over your features up close. Gently, he brushed your arm, the simple touch igniting something inside you, “So, you are not opposed to this match?”

“No, Ser,” you shook your head. You pressed even closer, your body right against his, and circled the geometric patterns bordering his doublet. “I look forward to it greatly.”

You saw a slight pink tinge cover his cheeks. He continued looking over your face before landing on your lips, “You…truly are The Rose of Highgarden…”

“Thank you, Ser,” you giggled. “I, um, hope this was not too forward,” you moved away from him suddenly, realizing what you’d done. “I don’t…I promise I am not usually this way-”

“-Do not apologize,” he insisted, bringing you back gently by the elbow. “Do you truly…Certainly you could not truly wish to marry an old man like me? I am old enough to be your father.”

“Ser, you are not so old,” you assured him. You realized you quite enjoyed being close to him this way. “Old is for men like my grandfather, who walk around with a cane and cannot remember what day it is. I’m sure there are many things you can still do.”

‘Such as me…’ you nearly said, but decided that was indeed far too forward. He laughed at your words, and replied, “I’m not so sure of that, my lady. I have not done certain things in a very long time.”

“Perhaps once we’re married, we could-”

“-Y/N! Y/N, darling, where are you?”

Your mother’s voice came from somewhere near the hedges, and you both jumped apart. Soon, Lady Jalissa came around the corner, and smiled in relief. “Ah, there you are,” she said, coming to your side, “I have been looking for you. The King has just arrived.” Suddenly, she noticed Otto beside you. She looked between you and then Otto, and realized what she’d done. Rather than scowl, she smiled knowingly. “Her chaperone is not present, Otto,” she teased, taking your hand, “You know better.”

“Perhaps her chaperone will be more mindful of her wanderings in the future,” Otto said, also sneering. “The King has arrived, you said?”

“Yes, him, the Queen, and the children. I’m sure Alicent will be pleased to see her father.”

It was then that you remembered. You’d only just remembered: Queen Alicent is Ser Otto’s daughter. A pang of nervousness hit you as your mother guided you back through the maze, chatting with Otto about the Queen and him seeing The King again. You’d be related to The Queen, who was a few years older than you. What if she did not approve of this union? What if Otto took her opinion seriously and did discuss other alliance options with your father? You walked into the main hall again with your mother, gulping anxiously as you spotted the crowd parting for the newest guests.

The King’s party consisted of his Kingsguard, men in white cloaks and golden armor. He walked with a cane, his white hair thinning on his head and his left sleeve dangling from the shoulder. He was around Otto’s age, yet looked so much older than the last time he visited Highgarden. Queen Alicent walked behind him with her ladies-in-waiting, wearing a green gown and a golden circlet in her auburn curls. She looked regal, the way a queen should look. She too was much, much younger than her husband. How could Otto object to your betrothal, yet fully accept his daughter marrying a man his age? Because that man was The King, of course. Behind her were Otto’s grandchildren: Prince Aegon, a tall boy with thick silver hair, who looked around the room in disinterest; Princess Helaena, a slender girl with hair just like her brother’s, shyly walking beside him as everyone looked on, and finally Prince Aemond, short and slight with silver curls down to his shoulders. The only one missing was Prince Daeron, the youngest who was a squire and cupbearer in Oldtown for Otto’s brother. Should you marry Otto, you’d be part of their family. You wouldn’t be royalty, but you’d be related to them. Since Otto is no longer Hand of the King, he no longer lives in King’s Landing.

Perhaps that might be a good thing.

Your father walked alongside King Viserys, the both talking cordially despite the slow steps. Everyone got along well with your father. While he may be a bit pompous at times, his jovial spirit rippled through crowds around him. It made him the perfect host. Your mother appeared with you at the center of the room, your siblings standing with her. When King Viserys approached, you all bowed. Then, your father introduced his household to him and Queen Alicent.

Your nerves tripled when she approached you. You hoped maybe she did not know about the betrothal, but when her eyes widened slightly, you knew the truth.

“You’re Lady Y/N?” she asked, trying to hide her disbelief.

“Yes, Your Grace,” you nodded, curtsying.

Alicent’s eyes flitted to her father who stood nearby behind you, then back to you. “It is an honor to meet you, Lady Y/N.”

She hates you. “And you, Your Grace.”

A sickness entered your stomach, and you thought you might vomit. She disapproves. She’s not only Otto’s daughter, but the Queen. She might demand your father choose another suitor; she could convince her father to decline the offer. You turned to your mother, who took your hand in hers and squeezed reassuringly. No amount of hand-holding could hold off the dread. You almost did not acknowledge Prince Aegon, who gave you a swift once-over, then walked away unimpressed. Princess Helaena timidly nodded, and you smiled kindly at her. It was Prince Aemond who stood stock-still in front of you.

“Um, uh, hmmm,” he stammered, “Hello, Lady Y/N.”

“Prince Aemond,” you curtsied once again.

He stared up into your face, since he was much shorter being only twelve. The sudden fear that Queen Alicent might suggest a marriage between House Tyrell and The Crown came to you. It wouldn’t be the first time a Targaryen-Tyrell marriage alliance would be proposed. Yet, at the time it’d been King Viserys’s brother, Prince Daemon, who’d suggested it. This time it’d be The Queen. What if your father saw the benefits in this match and called off your betrothal to Otto? You tried thinking the opposite. Aemond is much younger than you. You’re twenty-three. He’s twelve.

Your father called for the royal family to be shown to their chambers for the week. You saw Alicent walk with her father after them, and you excused yourself to your own chambers for the day.

***

“She’s a child, Father.”

“She’s a grown woman, Alicent.”

“She might as well be a child compared to you.”

Otto found his daughter’s reaction quite amusing. Standing in her quarters at Highgarden, the servants finished setting down Alicent’s possessions and left the father and daughter alone. It’d been so long since Otto laid eyes on Alicent. The last they’d seen one another, Aegon and Helaena were still infants. He’d embraced her the moment the servants left, taking in the scent of flowers in her hair and the warmth of her. Seeing her now in the sunlight, she reminded him of Leyla. He’d planned on asking her about Lord Lionel, his sucessor who'd perished in a fire, leaving the position open once more. But, she had other concerns.

“I cannot believe you are agreeing to this union,” she said, hands crossed in front of her and displeasure on her face. “You’d told me you did not wish to remarry after Mother passed. Now, here you are, engaged to a girl twice your junior.”

“It is for political reasons alone,” he said. “House Tyrell needs men, and House Hightower is willing to offer them. Gareth has a daughter who needs marrying, and he has insisted it be me.”

“Why?”

“We are close friends and allies. He trusts me to look after his daughter.”

She scoffed, shaking her head, “Oh, look after her, you will, Father.”

“Alicent,” he said firmly, as if scolding her.

“You cannot convince me it is not for her youth and looks that you wish to marry her,” she retorted. “I’ve heard the things people say about that girl.”

“What do they say?” Alicent did not answer at first. He pressed her, “Alicent, is there something about her that you know that I do not?”

She stayed silent for a moment more before answering, “That she is lovely.” It almost annoyed her to say it. “They say she is lovely, gracious, kind, and talented. Ladies who’ve met her speak very highly of her.” She plopped down onto a chair, “Her beauty is said to rival the most beautiful girls at court. It appears the rumors are true.” She’d moved her fingers to pick at her nails, but she quickly stopped herself. Otto then discovered the real reason she disapproved, “You said you loved Mother. You said you’d never want for another woman after she died. You’d told me so yourself when I asked you. I never imagined you marrying someone else, especially one so young.”

He smiled softly, and came to sit beside her. “I did love your mother, Alicent. I still do, even if she is no longer with us. But, this union will benefit both our families.”

“Is there no other option?” she nearly snapped. “Perhaps Uncle Hobert could foster the little girl or one of the sons at Oldtown. Daeron would do well to be around children his age. Maybe the little girl could be betrothed to Aemond instead. They’re close in age. A match to the crown will benefit him more, would it not?”

It would. “I will confess I considered the same thing,” he said. “But, it is Y/N Gareth wishes to marry off, not Elise. I will not lie to you, my daughter,” he looked at her, “Gareth is not very fond of House Targaryen.”

“Really?” she asked, intrigued.

He poured them both wine from a pitcher nearby, and said, “Lord Gareth is a strong believer in The Seven. He does not approve of the Targaryen’s queer customs of marrying within their own families. He says he cannot trust a family who use their dragons as a means to put themselves above other men. It would take much more than simple military gain to propose a match.” He took a sip from his cup, then said, “And yes…Lady Y/N is beautiful, and Jalissa assures me she will make a good wife.”

Alicent rolled her eyes, “That poor girl. I can’t imagine her being very fond of the idea.”

“She claims differently.” He instantly regretted saying this when she looked over at him with wide eyes.

“Father?”

“I spoke with her in the garden,” he admitted, “And she told me she’s partial to…older men.”

Alicent stifled a laugh with her wine. “Surely, her father must’ve convinced her to say it.”

For some reason, Otto got the impression that you were not as obedient a daughter as Alicent. He recalled how close you’d stood to him, touching his doublet lightly and pure sincerity in your eyes. When he touched you, a flame sparked within him. He’d been tempted to kiss you right then, but his own morals restricted him. He liked to believe you’d said it to ease any worries. Yet, he liked the idea of you desiring him even more. You’d walked so willingly into his embrace, your bosom centimeters from his chest, and your body heat radiating onto him. For a moment, he remembered the bathing pools of Highgarden, and the idea of taking you there. Even if he did not wed you…

Gods, he’d still love to undress you.

The innocence you’d shown clearly shrouded something lustful within you. People at Highgarden tended to live much more loosely than those in King’s Landing. He liked the idea that you might be one of those people.

“-Father? Father, are you listening?” Alicent’s voice broke into his thoughts.

“Yes,” he lied, coughing and looking at her.

She didn’t believe him. “I said, have you heard what’s happened to Lord Lionel and Ser Harwin?”

Otto sat up straight and took a drink, hoping the coolness might soothe the fires inside him. “Oh yes, a terrible thing. Very tragic. I understand it was a fire that broke out in Harrenhal?”

“Yes, it took them both," she said. He noticed other words lingering inside her. She did not look at him, and focused on her wine. Her mother once did the same whenever she withheld information from him. "The King…is looking for a new Hand."

Otto paused, "Is he?"

"He is. I have taken the position for the time being, but I put forward your name." She then broke, "I have no allies at court, Father. Viserys continuously favors Rhaenyra and her sons over mine. He remains entirely blind to their plain features, and their obvious birth illlegitimacy. Whenever I broch the subject, he gives me a weak answer." Her deep brown eyes pleaded with him, "Father, I cannot go against them on my own. I need you."

He hesitated. As Hand of the King, he'd have significantly more power. A second son to a noble house, he inherited very little compared to his brother. When he became Hand, he became a person of worth. He had power and influence throughout the realm. If he were still Hand, he wouldn't need to remarry. Hobert might've chosen another option. Otto recalled his days as Hand of the King, first to the last king and then to Viserys. He'd spoken with the King's voice when he fell too ill; he sat on the council and had The King’s ear. He'd be with his daughter and grandchildren again. They'd have a person in their corner, concerned with their futures and their lives. If Rhaenyra became queen, the realm would be flown into war and chaos.

If her bastard boys became kings after, it'd ruin the kingdom further.

"Have you managed to convince him?" He asked her.

"I have mentioned it to him a few times," she said. "He may consider rebuilding the bridges he burned dismissing you from court."

"I only spoke the truth," Otto said. "It is not my fault he is willfully blind to her misdeeds. I tell him his daughter went into a brothel with Prince Daemon, and was seen coming out after him. He dismisses me instead of accepting the truth."

He also remembered Viserys telling him that he'd plotted to put his daughter forward as a queen. Well, he had, but he never admitted that. Should he be Hand again, he can push for Aegon to be named heir instead of Rhaenyra. If he was Hand, he could keep Prince Daemon from being on the throne. If he was Hand again, people will understand why you wish to marry him.

"I will wait for him to approach me," as he knows Viserys will. "I have plenty to occupy me for the moment." Such as you and your beautiful eyes.

"He's been quite sentimental these days," she told him. "His declining health has made him even more so."

"I can imagine. The King has always been fickle with his commands. He banishes Daemon and then allows him back at court to only banish him again. He dismisses me as Hand, and then brings me back. It's only a matter of time."

She looked over at him, then said, "What will you do about Lady Y/N? You cannot seriously wish to marry her."

"I will. I must."

And wished to, though he kept this to himself. "I will leave you to settle in," he said, standing up from his seat. "I have yet to see my own quarters."

"I suspect they'll be close to Lady Y/N's," she said with disdain. "I know how these Tyrell's work. Her mother will no doubt have placed you close, so her daughter may tempt you in the dark."

He chuckled. She had not even spoken to you, and she already accused you of a plot. He kissed her hands, then left her chambers. He made his way to the rooms Gareth and Jalissa always kept for him. A spacious suite with an adjacent sitting area in front of a fire. A floral tapestry of a young maiden with flowing hair dancing in a silk chemise was added to the room. He couldn't help noting the maiden's similarities to you. Otto smirked. Alicent was not completely wrong. Jalissa can be as cunning as him when she wishes.

Otto spent the rest of his day with his grandchildren and daughter. He did not see you again until later that night at the welcoming feast. As he walked in, the herald announcing his arrival, he spotted you sitting with your sister and companions. Each girl wore a circlet of different flowers, matching ribbons falling down the back. Yours was the only golden one, roses woven into vines and feathers. It matched the gold flowers embroidered into the baby blue gown you wore. You stood out amongst the ladies around you, not only because of your obvious beauty, but because you sat in the middle. You'd laughed at something your sister said, and his heart couldn't help but flutter. He took seats with his household on your side of the room, glad to have you out of his eyeline. Otherwise, he'd be unable to look anywhere else.

"Evening, Ser Otto," The King approached him, and he stood up at once.

"Good Evening, Your Grace," he bowed. "I pray you have been well."

"I wish I could say so," he chuckled. "I heard you're marrying the Tyrell girl on week's end?"

"Her father has proposed that to me," he nodded. "There is a situation with bandits on the routes from here to Oldtown, and her father has offered a marriage pact."

"You're a lucky man then," he said, "She's lovely. Ha, I know Daemon would be envious of you were he here."

"Thank you, Your Grace. I was sorry to hear about Lord Lionel and his son," he added. "It's such a shame. He was a good Hand."

"Not as good as you were," Viserys noted.

"I appreciate that, Your Grace."

"Perhaps," he limped closer to Otto, "We may sit down some time soon? Make amends and rebuild the bridge we burned so long ago."

"I would be open to that," he said.

This pleased Viserys, who nodded and hobbled away to his seat on the high table. Otto watched him leave, more concerned than satisfied. Viserys is already missing a limb due to infection, and now he is becoming weaker. His days are numbered, and this means that Rhaenyra may soon take the throne. With her came Prince Daemon, who'd turn the Red Keep into a brothel and wouldn't hesitate to have his head on the executioner's block. Him being Hand again will ensure the right person ends up on the throne. Not to mention, people may not question his bride-to-be on her choice of husband. Any girl in your position would be a fool to not want the Hand of the King.

Glancing across the hall, he took in your beauty once more. He couldn’t help noticing the low cut neckline of your gown, his eyes gluing themselves to it. The look might be considered scandalous at court, but here in your father’s home, many women wore similar dresses. He suspected due to the warm weather, but Jalissa’s mischievous smile came to the forefront of his mind. Otto could not help imagining those mounds in his hands, hard nipples on his tongue while you squirm with pleasure. He took a drink to wash down these thoughts. When you sensed someone watching you, you turned in his direction. Unsure what else to do, he raised his cup and you did the same. The Seven took their time when creating you, putting all the love and beauty in the world into your form. He walked towards your parents, hoping striking a conversation might distract him from your gaze.

“Doesn’t YN look lovely tonight, Otto?” Jalissa asked him, looking in your direction.

“She does,” he said. “She certainly inherited her mother’s looks.”

“You flatter me,” she tsked, smiling at him.

“I only speak the truth,” he insisted. He then moved on to the most concerning topic: “Your daughter told me she isn’t bothered by our arrangement,” he said. “When I told her that I considered ending it, she insisted that she approved of our match.” He glanced over at her, “Was this your doing, Jalissa?”

“Not entirely,” she admitted freely. “I may have slipped your name into the list of suitors, but I told her she may decline it, if she wished. She said she did not.”

“She mentioned she preferred men of a certain age…”

Jalissa's humored smile gave everything away. “YN has always shown a certain interest in older men.” She stepped closer to him, “I only wish for my daughter’s happiness, Otto. If I can find a way to give her even a crumb of it, I will do what it takes. Surely that is how you feel for your children?”

“That is what we all wish for them, Jalissa, but do you not worry what it might look like for her? A woman as young as her with a man of my age?”

“People will talk whether she marries a young man or an old one,” she shrugged indifferently. “Why the inquiry? Do you not find my daughter pleasing?”

“Oh, um, well…” his cheeks tinged pink at the question. “Your daughter is-”

“-You may speak freely with me,” she giggled at his flustered reaction. “Unless you’d rather tell my husband instead? He’ll be overjoyed at the idea.”

“Your daughter is beautiful, there is no doubt,” he said, finding you in the crowd again. This time he caught you looking at him. You gave a shy, embarrassed smile when his eyes met yours, but you did not look away. It took his breath away. “She is utterly enchanting.”

“She’s even more enchanting up close,” she nudged him before walking away from him.

This he knew. Otto watched Jalissa disappear into the crowd, leaving him awkwardly standing alone. His body burned from being under your gaze. He couldn't recall the last time a woman gave him so much attention. Normally, Otto did not struggle to maintain his composure. He could remain calm and collected regardless of the subject or person. Yet, your stare alone made him shift and gulp thickly. You are only a girl. Nothing malicious or threatening. But, he still took deep breaths as he made his way over to you.

“Evening, Lady YN,” he gave a curt bow, immediately scrambling for what to say. Underneath the candlelights above, you looked positively glowing. “You look lovely tonight.”

“Thank you, ser,” you beamed. “I spoke with Her Grace when she arrived…”

His stomach twisted, “Forgive anything she might have said. She may be our queen, but she’s my daughter as well. I hope she wasn’t too harsh.”

“Actually, it’d been quite the opposite,” you said. “She said she looked forward to the union of our houses, and to my joining your family.”

Undoubtedly pleasantries expected of a queen and daughter of an old man like him. He gazed around the room to see his daughter on the dais, chatting with Jalissa and being a proper guest. Alicent means well, and likely harbors resentment at him but he anticipated that. He only hoped Alicent wouldn’t be outwardly vicious towards you; none of this was your doing. It was your father’s and his brother’s idea. But, seeing you this close up and recalling your gentle touch, he might be warming up to it himself.

“Would you care for a dance, my lady?” he asked, turning back to you. His body yearned to be close to you again.

“I’d love to,” you smiled at him, immediately leaving your seat to join him.

You took his arm and he walked you to the sea of dancers in the middle of the hall. Immediately, you both went into step together. Otto couldn’t recall the last time he’d danced at a banquet, so he did miss a step or two, but that exhilarating feeling he once felt returned.

“Has it been long since you danced, ser?” you questioned, a small tease in your voice but nothing malicious.

“I will admit yes,” he chuckled embarrassed. “Not since my lady wife passed. She loved dancing. So, forgive me if I have two-left feet.”

“You’re simply out of practice,” you took his hands at the appropriate moment, gazing into his eyes flirtatiously, “I can help you become reacquainted with it, if you like. I know you have plenty of things to teach me, I’d like to return the favor.”

The implication, however subtle, made him shudder. He loved and hated how easily this nymph effected him. You were The Maiden personified, in his eyes.

“I’d like that,” he said quietly, the both of you standing in the middle of the floor. “I hear you’re a splendid dancer. When I’m tutored, I only learn from the best.”

You giggled, and then the lesson began. Nimble and light on your feet, you easily moved about the floor with him at every song. You made it fun and delightful. Otto almost forgot who he was and the people watching the two of you as you repeatedly came close together. Your electric energy pulled him in and kept a firm grip on him the entire time. Hearing from Jalissa that you might truly harbor favor for him only made his desires burn hotter. He did his best to keep himself from touching you too long or glancing at your body, but he’ll admit he snuck his peeks.

“-I found Septon Rowley’s writings about the Seven intriguing,” you said as both walked into the garden.

You’d both decided to take some air in the garden outside the hall after dancing. The lanterns hanging around the lush garden gave dim lighting to the cobbled paths around the vast landscape. He also noticed how much quieter and empty they were. The idea of being fully alone with you again stirred disquiet in his gut. Truly, he should’ve warned your septa, but the idea of the aged woman hovering nearby bothered him. He isn’t a green boy who cannot control himself. He is a grown man who can withhold his desires regardless of how badly they wished to be released.

“He talks about them as if they’re people and not gods,” you continued. “He made them sound more human, even if some septons believe his work to lean more into storytelling than facts.”

“Septon Rowley is known to be a bit fanciful with his writing. He said he intended it to be read to children, but I found myself enjoying it as well,” he replied. “Your father mentioned you’re quite versed in scriptures?”

“I wouldn’t say versed, since I can only recite the more common phrases, but I did take a liking to it in my youth. My septa and my mother used to read them to us during sewing circles or after dinner. When they read them, it didn’t sound like a religious practice, but more for entertainment,” you said, “And I do pray in the sept every morning after I break my fast.”

“Do you?”

You giggled, “You believe I do not?”

“I’ve never known your mother or father to impress prayers upon their children before,” he said. “Your mother has loved the arts and your father prefers hunting over praying.”

“It’s true that they never did,” you nodded, “But I find it soothing in a way. The sept is truly the only place where I’m alone.”

“Oh?”

“I’m always surrounded by my ladies-in-waiting, my family, the servants…In the sept, I can kneel down on a bench in front of a statue with candles and sit. It’s become more of a special hideout than a sept.”

“I know the sept here in Highgarden is a rival to it, but The Starry Sept in Oldtown is glorious,” he told you.

“The Starry Sept was beautiful when I was there last” you said, the both of you reaching a secluded section of the garden.

He realized you’d both walked into one of the bathing pools of Highgarden. A square pool with clear water was dotted with lily pads and flowers, this particular pool sat in the middle of an orange grove surrounded by thick stone walls. You each took seats on a bench near the water.

“It was so ancient,” you said, “And so many important things have happened there. It was a bit intimidating to me. There’d also been far too many people there for my taste. Also, my mother and sister went with me since they didn’t want me straying off alone.”

He gulped when he noticed the angle you sat put your bosom right in front of him. Otto knew he should not look. He did not bring you here to ravage you. He truly wished to know you; to see your true nature absent any wandering eyes. Yet, could anyone blame him? It was as if you meant to bring him here to tease him.

“The sept in Hightower is a bit smaller, but,” he said, “Much more private than the Starry Sept.”

You glanced over to him, and he knew he’d been caught. A lump caught in his throat when you shifted closer to him. “Like this place here?” you suggested.

“A bit,” he nodded, “Yes.”

He knew he was doomed when your thigh pressed against his own. You’re simply teasing him. Your mother must have put you up to this, which wouldn’t surprise him. They want this marriage pact to go smoothly, and you showing interest in him would assure it does. It’s the sort of thing he’d done when he steered his daughter to Viserys. But, something about the way your fingers timidly danced over his thigh told him otherwise. When he forced himself to meet your eyes, he saw sincerity in them as you spoke.

“Books about The Faith aren’t the only ones I like,” you said, voice dropping low and sultry. It drew him to you like a siren’s song. “My mother has a collection of books from Essos and she taught me how to read them.”

Heat burned in Otto’s cheeks, and tightened his stomach. He knew exactly what sort of books came out of the Free Cities. While most were educational texts about the various people and cultures, he’d read a fair few erotic tales written by pillowhouse owners or their courtesans. The picture of you in nothing but your chemise, legs parted as you pleasured yourself to one came to him immediately.

“Did she? Jalissa should know better…”

“She only wished to educate me in things outside of a lady’s instruction,” you told him. “I’m not as naive as some of my companions might be, if I’m putting modesty aside. I knew I’d be married one day and,” you rested your hand on his inner thigh and whispered in his ear, “I want to be able to please my husband however he likes.”

“My lady…this is…”

“If you wish for me to stop,” you pulled away from him, “Then my apologies. I…I should not have been so-”

“-What sort of things did you read, my lady?” he asked a bit too eagerly. “I’ve read a few tales myself.”

“Have you?” you asked in disbelief. “My father always painted you as a stout believer.”

“I do hold strongly to my faith and values but, YN, I am a man.” It was his turn to lean in close, “My favorite was written by a Lysene courtesan who shared beds with kings and princes. She claimed she ruled entire cities by using her body to sway her lovers. I found it quite clever of her to bring a man to such deep pleasure he throws away his ideals for her.”

“Lady Harresha of the Red House?” you asked, a bit eager yourself.

“The same,” he nodded.

“I particularly enjoyed her stories about the lover she took in the house’s bathing pool,” you said, putting your hand back on his thigh. This time, he did not shy away. “The things she wrote about him doing to her sounded so sinful and delightful. The way she talked about his tongue tracing her sex made me imagine my own lover doing it to me.”

Hearing such vulgar words coming from your mouth burned his loins. “She was said to taste as sweet as strawberries,” he said, taking the bait, “But I bet the Rose of Highgarden would taste like peaches.”

“Ser…” you said in a bated breath.

“I think we’ve moved far past formalities, YN,” he breathed, his hand gently creeping over yours. “You can call me ‘Otto’.”

He thought you might shy away now; perhaps you’ll believe you’d bitten off more than you could chew. But, instead you guided your hand right over his groin. He bit the inside of his cheek when your soft, warm hand cupped his growing bulge. Slow and light, your fingers traced the faint outline. Seeing your breasts so close to him now, he reached out for one which caused you to gasp in surprise. Through the thin layers of your dress and chemise, he realized you didn’t wear a corset. Your hard nipple brushed against his palm as he gave a light squeeze, and he couldn’t help grazing over it.

“I read one about a Pentoshi trade prince and a woman whom he declared had the most beautiful breasts in the world,” he said, pinching your nipple through your gown. “I’m beginning to believe I’ve found a pair to rival them.”

You leaned into him, brushing your lips with his as you asked, “Would you like to find out? In a week’s time, they will be yours after all. You should see if you’ll like what you’re getting.”

“I know I will.”

It started with a few brief pecks before you deepened the kiss. His tongue slid between your lips and over your own, rolling around it smoothly as he continued groping your chest. Your lips worked so easily with his that sensuality laced every kiss. He felt alive again. Kissing your sweet lips revived a deep-seated arousal that hadn’t stirred for some time. Your hand rubbing his cock over his breeches had him moaning into your mouth as he cupped your cheek. Every small brush of your fingers on his tip stoked the fires inside him more.

Soon, his hands left the front to snake around the back. His fingers deftly worked the lacings of your gown while yours unbuttoned his jerkin. He didn’t need to fill you tonight. There’d be time for that much later, but for now he’d be content seeing and touching your body. The two of you stood as he slid your dress off your shoulders, leaving you in only your chemise and stockings. Otto groaned at the sight of your breasts in front of him. The brief thought that someone might walk in and see the two of you crossed his mind, but the feeling of your hands untying his breeches brought him back to you. Quickly removing boots and slippers, you each stripped down to your underclothes, which only fanned the flames growing between you.

“You look beautiful,” he growled into your neck, peppering the crook with soft kisses that tickled your flesh. “Far more beautiful than any woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Am I?”

“Truly,” he kissed you again, tongues slipping together briefly.

He wasn’t so old and wrinkled that he considered himself unappealing, but he didn’t imagine you enjoying the sight of him too much. However, you proved him wrong as you traced your fingers down his chest and stomach to his pelvic bone. “I haven’t seen many men nude, ser, but yours definitely arouses me. Particularly after I see this,” you gripped the muscle sticking up to your stomach, smiling as he groaned deeply. “Come into the water with me just like in Lady Harresha’s story.”

“Gladly, my lady.”

He kissed down your body to your thighs where he untied and slipped off your stockings. The moment you removed the last bits of clothing, Otto thought he might die. Your sex stood several inches from his face, a patch of hair above two soft folds that he saw himself licking and sucking to his heart’s content. His hands rubbed up and down your thighs as he looked on it, the thumbs pressing into the muscles as he reached the inner sides. Your soft whimpers added more fuel to his ever growing fires. Restraining himself, he guided you over to the steps of the pool, where he watched your body slink into the cool waters.

Once there, he brought you into his embrace again. One hand on his shoulder, you wasted no time in taking him in your hand. You gave hos pulsating length gentle strokes, content to watch him kiss down your chest to your breasts. They truly were beautiful. Soft mounds with hard nipples that fit perfectly in his mouth, he grasped both as he suckled each one. The creases on the peaks constricted at his tongue, them being one of the most sensitive spots on your body. He moaned at the combination of your tits in his hands and you stroking his cock. When he felt you grip his shaft tightly, he sensed you might need his tongue elsewhere. First, he’d use his hand. Sliding one from your chest to the apex of your thighs, you trembled as his fingers slipped easily over your sex. He groaned softly as he felt a distinct wetness between the folds, and the hard nub that ran against his middle finger.

“Otto…” you whined, gripping his shoulder as you tried staying still for him.

You cried out when his fingers gently started rubbing around your clit. He chuckled softly at you squirming in his grasp, eager for more but not wishing to be demanding.

“Let me have a closer look at you,” he said, capturing your lips to kiss you once more. “I want to see you.”

“Only see me?”

“For the moment, sweetling.”

He guided you to the top step, where you eagerly spread your thighs to show him your sex above the low surface of water. Timidly, you mimicked his touches seconds before as you kept your eyes on him. His own eyes landed on your center, watching your hand slowly open your folds for him. He envisioned himself plunging hilt-deep into your tightness, ravaging you the way you richly deserved every night. He wrapped his hand around his tip and started gradually jerking from base to head every time. Otto groaned at the light trembles going through his body once you spread the lips for him.

“Do you like it?” you asked shyly, biting your lower lip as you traced your clit in front of him.

“I love it,” he said, jaw dropping at the faint glistening he saw between them. “Do you often touch yourself like this?” he moved closer to touch your inner thigh, hooking one arm around it.

“I do,” you nodded, clit tucked between two fingers as you slid them up and down.

“While you read your naughty tales?”

“Yes. I get so aroused and wet,” you emphasized this by pushing your folds apart for him, “From reading about the things the characters do in the stories. Like the Lorathi slave who fucked her way to be the concubine of a Pentoshi prince.” You slowly continued touching yourself as you said, “How she pleasured a merchant with her mouth for passage across the river, letting his son fuck her from behind while she did it. I loved the part about her with a Norvoshi soldier, riding his large cock in order to gain access to his master. I can’t wait to feel one inside me,” you slid a finger inside your pussy, pushing it to the knuckle. “I can’t wait to feel you inside me.”

“Tell me more,” he groaned, hooking his arms around both your thighs now. “Tell me more while I taste you.”

Holding you in his grasp, he kept you in place as he gave your sex long, flat licks. He tasted hints of your essence on his tongue, which had his cock throbbing in the water. He kept his pace steady, starting at the bottom before reaching the hard clit at the top and then repeating it. You leaned back into the edge behind you, your hands falling into his hair and feeling the strands between your fingers.

“I climaxed hardest to the part when she finally meets the man at the end of her journey,” you panted. “Reading about how she sat on his face and rode his tongue left me wishing I had a husband who’d let me do that too. I came once, and kept going just to imagine it all over again.”

You filthy girl. Otto never thought he’d find someone as dirty as himself. He growled into your pussy as he thought of you giving yourself multiple orgasms out of pure desire. When he swirled his tongue around your clit, your breaths became ragged and whiny that encouraged him to continue. Your sex tasted sweet, as intoxicating to him as wine, and he licked up any trickle that leaked from you. You tentatively grinded yourself into his mouth, moaning as he ran his tongue over the outer lips.

“How often?” he asked you, rolling his tongue around once more.

“Every night.”

“You fib.”

“I don’t,” you giggled breathily, grinding your hips into his face. He allowed it to hear the moan cut off your laugh. “You should hide in my bedchamber tonight. You’ll see it for yourself.”

“Do not tempt me,” he said, sucking on your throbbing clit. “I will if pressed.”

“And that will only make me want your cock more.”

“YN….”

“Otto…please…”

“Please?” he taunted between licks before sucking tenderly.

“Put your tongue inside,” you whimpered, pinching one of your nipples. “Like the man in the story. I want to feel a part of you inside me at least once.”

Otto planted himself in front of you and slipped his tongue inside your virginal sex. He let his moans vibrate in your entrance each time he darted in and out of you. This new sensation had you wriggling in his arms. He tightened his grip on you and started tongue fucking you faster, reaching as far as he can each time. He allowed you to grab hold of his hair once more to keep him in place as you used him. You soon started shuddering, your walls contracting around his tongue and thighs shaking in his arms. Thick waves of cum spilled over his tongue and he swallowed every bit he could; the juices became smeared on his chin and nose, drowning him in your scent and taste. Even when he removed his tongue, Otto continued sucking your wet sex until you squealed from the sensitivity.

“Sit up for me,” he ordered, standing up in front of you.

You did not need guidance in what happened next. Otto’s jaw fell in a low moan when you stuck out your tongue and licked him from bottom to top. Your hot tongue tickled the underside of his length, flicking just beneath the sensitive head before giving it a light suck. Droplets of precum spilled out as you kissed and licked him; he thought you might avoid it due to the taste, but you surprised him once again. You traced the slit of the head to the leaking hole, running your tongue around it before sucking it softly. A small hum of approval told him you enjoyed it.

“And here I thought I’d have a timid little virgin on my hands,” he said, one hand on his hip and the other on your head as you took him fully in your mouth. “I might think you’ve…you’ve done this before.”

“I assure you, ser,” you said, pecking his tip with your lips, “I have not. I only take instructions from reading well.”

“Did your Lorathi slave write about sucking cock too?”

“Often and with great detail.”

You proved this to him soon enough. Otto found himself struggling to stay put as you stroked and sucked his cock. Your warm mouth felt like heaven. Your wet tongue slid over the throbbing vein each time, while your cheeks hollowed tightly around his girth. He’d marry you on the morrow if he could; he’d marry you right after you finish him if you wanted. Much like the whores in your Essos fairytales, you’d bewitched him with your mouth and tongue. With a cradle of his balls in your hand, light squeezes and gentle touches had him thrusting into your throat. The sounds of your choking gasps sent him over the edge. He thought you’d pull away, and you did but only to open your mouth wide for him. Jerking him in the same pace as before, you locked eyes with him as thick white droplets fell on your tongue.

Not even his Leyla would've done such acts.

His orgasm hit him before he could control himself. He moaned your name louder than he intended, unable to stop himself from spilling over your lips. When you saw them getting away from you, you latched your mouth to the squirting head and this drove him even wilder. Even as his relief came, his desire for you continued burning. You stroked him until nothing else was left; you licked until he stopped twitching. When you finished, you dared to appear timid and shy once more. He bent down to latch his lips to yours, not caring what flavors he might find but only wanting your kiss.

Neither of you left the pool right away. Basking in the afterglow of the moment, you stayed contently in his arms on the soft grass as you both continued talking. He felt at ease in your company now. He supposed having worked out his initial desires, he could enjoy the woman underneath the seductive veil. If this first meeting brought about such tension, he couldn’t imagine your wedding night. As you both eventually dried off and dressed, he thought about a life with you. He knew you’d love Oldtown and the Hightower. You’d be surrounded by his family who will undoubtedly accept and grow to love you.

He knew he was starting to.

***

A/N: Hello sweet ottogasms lmao I had this sitting around in my drafts for a looonnggg time and recently got into the swing of writing this duo again <3

#house of the dragon #hotd #otto hightower #otto x reader #otto x fem reader #hotd imagine #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfictions #rhys ifans

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