#it’s not a reminder of her mother it’s a reminder that she even had one. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

maretinelli · 2 days ago

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FOR THE BEST MOM

Lewis Hamilton X Wife!fem!reader

Summary: When Lewis and Y/n have already lost two babies during pregnancy, but he never fails to send her flowers on Mother's Day and reminds her that even without them there, she is a good mother.

Words: 3K+

Warnings: Mention of pregnancy loss, mention of child loss, anguish, anguish, and anguish until the end. But Lew is a good husband, and this will make you cry.

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any spelling, grammar and slang mistakes that may be in the story. And this story leaves me COMPLETELY speechless, I don't know why I wrote it, but I needed some anguish. Sorry, and grab some tissues.

MASTERLIST

⚠️SENSITIVE CONTENT⚠️

The love between Y/n and Lewis was always strong, built on complicity, respect and admiration. They were partners in everything, in joys and challenges, in moments of lightness and in those of greater weight. Just as they had promised on their wedding day.

Every shared laugh and every silent touch carried a deep meaning. They had each other, and that was always enough. At least, that's what they tried to believe.

The day they discovered their first pregnancy was one of the happiest of their lives. Y/n was in shock for a few seconds before letting happiness flood her. Lewis, upon hearing the news, felt a wave of emotion take over his body. Tears came before he could even contain them. He lifted her into the air, spinning her around carefully, his chest exploding with joy. Every kiss he placed on her face was a silent thank you for that gift.

They spent the next few days daydreaming. They imagined what it would be like to hold the baby for the first time, how they would decorate the room, what traits they would inherit from each other. Life seemed even more colorful, full of new promises.

But then, it all came crashing down.

Shortly after, Y/n started to feel unwell. At first, she tried to ignore it, believing it was something temporary.

But then the doctors broke the news, and it came as a brutal blow. The silence in the room felt overwhelming, and the air became too heavy to breathe. All the happiness, dreams, and plans they had made were gone in an instant.

The next few days were cloudy. Y'n felt like the world around her was spinning in slow motion as Lewis tried to be her stronghold. But at night, when she fell asleep, he would let the tears flow silently.

A year later, a new positive test. The fear was still there, haunting them both, but there was also hope. The rainbow baby they had wanted so much was finally on the way. They decided to celebrate, even though deep down they held on to happiness with caution,

But once again, pain struck them.

The second loss was even worse. There were no more words of comfort that could fill the void. The silence became more frequent, the conversations about the future with children diminished, and the pain settled between them like a constant presence.

Years passed, and the subject of 'having children' ceased to be mentioned. They moved on with their lives, still in love, still partners, but with the feeling that two pieces of their hearts were missing.

And the flowers arrived.

On the first Mother's Day after the second loss, Y/n noticed the bouquet of flowers left on the table. She hadn't connected it with the fact that it was Mother's Day. It was just a silent gesture from Lewis, a tribute he made without expecting any reaction. But it made her smile and thank her husband for the beautiful flowers.

The following year, he repeated the gesture, but this time he added a note. When Y/n found the small piece of paper among the petals, Lewis's words made tears fall before she could control them.

'To the best mommy our little ones could ever have. I know they're not here physically, but I believe they feel all your love. And I feel it too. You're amazing, Y/n. You always will be.'

She cried until Lewis got home. And when he found her clutching the note to her chest, all he could do was wrap his arms around her and hold her tight.

The years continued to pass, and with them, flowers became tradition.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

3 years after the second loss.

It was Mother’s Day, and Lewis wasn’t in town. He wanted to be with Y/n and her mother, to hold her in his arms and remind her that she was never alone. But his running that weekend kept him from going home.

Y/n spent the day with her mother, having lunch together, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. But, even surrounded by love, there was an emptiness that persisted, a feeling of longing for something that never came to be.

On the way home, as she drove through the quiet city streets, one of her favorite songs played on the dashboard of her car. The sound brought comfort, but the tears came before she could stop them.

They fell silently, aimlessly, without her really noticing until she had to wipe them away with the back of her hand. She sighed deeply, trying to push away the thoughts that haunted her.

When he reached the garage, he turned off the car and stood there for a moment, taking a deep breath. Gathering his strength. When he opened the front door, the low sound of Roscoe's snoring in the living room filled the silence. A soft laugh escaped his lips, mixed with the tears that still insisted on falling.

Before she could close the door, a voice called her name. She turned around and saw the doorman of the condominium approaching with a gentle smile.

"Good evening, Mrs. Hamilton."

Y/n walked down the steps and shook the older man's hand affectionately. "Good night!"

The doorman then held out a bouquet to her, a beautiful arrangement of lilies and white roses. "Mr. Hamilton asked me to deliver this to you. I forgot about it when you came through the gate just now."

Y/n blinked in surprise. She took the bouquet delicately, feeling the soft scent of the flowers fill the air. "Thank you" She said with a small but sincere smile.

The man nodded and returned to his post, while Y/n hurriedly climbed the front stairs of the house.

As soon as she entered the house, she walked to the kitchen, placing the flowers on the table before carefully removing the note stuck between the petals. Her hands trembled slightly as she unfolded the paper.

'To the best mom in the world.

I know today is a difficult day, and I wish I could be by your side, to hold your hand and tell you that you were never alone on this journey. You will always be the mother of our little ones, no matter where they are. I know that if they could, they would tell you how much they love you and how proud they are of you. I know I am.

You are the strongest, most incredible woman I know, and my heart will always be yours. Forever. All my love, Lewis.'

The tears came before she could stop them. But this time, they were not tears of sadness, but of love.

She ran her fingers over the words, taking each one in. That man. That man always knew exactly what to say, even from far away.

Quickly drying her tears, she took out her cell phone and took a photo of the bouquet, sending it to Lewis with a short but sentimental message.

Before locking the screen, he read the note once more, a small but genuine smile dancing on his lips.

Lewis always found a way to remind her that even in the quietest, most painful moments, she was never alone.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

4 years after the second loss.

Mother's Day had arrived once again. Four years had passed since the second loss, and somehow Y/n felt like she was doing a little better this year.

She spent the afternoon with her mother and siblings, enjoying the day with laughter, stories, and shared memories. There were moments when she felt homesick, but the weight was a little lighter. She knew that Lewis was with her mother too, and that at the end of the day, he would be home to her arms.

When she arrived, the house was silent. Roscoe was sleeping peacefully on the couch, and a small smile appeared on Y/n's lips. She turned on some soft music on her cell phone, letting the melody fill the rooms as she prepared dinner. She cut the vegetables calmly, humming softly to the song that was playing.

It was then that he heard the familiar sound of the lock unlocking.

Seconds later, Lewis's voice sounded in the entrance hall, speaking softly to Roscoe, who had come to meet him excitedly. Her smile widened without her realizing it.

Lewis appeared in the kitchen doorway, watching his wife for a moment. She was stirring the pot with a calm expression, humming softly, and it warmed his heart in an indescribable way.

He approached silently, holding a bouquet in his hands. As soon as he reached her, he leaned over to place a soft kiss on her shoulder.

Y/n smiled and turned to him, touching his face briefly before giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

"How was your day?" He asked softly.

"It was good. My mom made that broccoli lasagna she always makes and we spent the day looking at old photos. She even sent some for you to see," he replied, and Y/n laughed. "By the way, she said hi to you too."

She smiled fondly. "I spent the day with my mom, and my brothers were in town too. It was nice...fun even."

Lewis nodded, and for a few moments, silence reigned between them. Y/n went back to stirring the pan, and he just watched her, as if recording every detail of that moment.

Then, with a small smile, he held out the bouquet to her. Y/n held the flowers, a tender glint in her eyes. She already knew the reason for that gesture.

Lewis kissed her cheek before murmuring, "I love you." Then he pulled back a little, giving her space to read the note attached to the bouquet.

Y/n opened the small envelope and skimmed over the words. Lewis still couldn't say all of that out loud. It had always been easier for him to write, to let the words spill out onto the paper so she could feel them in every letter.

'My love,

Another Mother's Day, another year by your side, and another reminder that you will always be the best mom our little ones could ever have. I know they are watching over us, and I know that if they could, they would tell you how much they love you and how grateful they are for you. You have always been and always will be an incredible mother. No matter where they are, the love you have for them echoes in every corner of the universe. I love you, Y/n. Forever. With all my heart, Lewis.'

The tears came before she could stop them. But this time, they didn't just carry sadness. They brought love, longing, memories.

With a tender smile on her lips, she turned to him and hugged him tightly. "I love you too, baby daddy." The words hit her before she could think.

Y/n felt them in her heart, and Lewis felt them in his soul.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her as if he would never let go. He placed a soft kiss on her shoulder, soaking in that silent but meaningful moment.

Then, Y/n sighed and broke the silence with a light tone, "My nephews were hell today. You should have seen the chaos at my mother's house.

Lewis let out a low laugh, feeling the air lighten.

They didn't avoid the subject, but they were still healing. They talked about it as best they could, in whatever way they could, respecting each other's time.

And somehow they knew they were walking together, side by side. Always.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

5 years after the second loss.

The day had been peaceful. For the first time in years, Mother's Day was not marked by heavy silences or painful moments. Lewis and Y/n spent lunch with Carmen, laughing at the stories she told about Lewis's childhood. Afterwards, they had dinner at Y/n's mother's house, enjoying time with her brothers and nephews.

Neither of them mentioned the loss they shared. They just lived in the moment, allowing themselves to feel the lightness of being with family.

Now night spread across the sky as Lewis drove back home. The car was filled with the sound of Y/n's excited voice, telling something funny that happened at work.

"And then he thought I was serious!" She laughed, leaning her head back against the bench. "You should have seen his face!"

Lewis laughed along, shaking his head. "I swear, sometimes I think your job is just a big sitcom and you're the lead."

Y/n laughed, feeling her chest lighten. But as the laughter died down, she realized Lewis wasn't heading home.

"Where are we going?" She asked, curious.

Lewis smiled sideways and placed a hand on her thigh, giving it a light rub. "I'm just looking for an open place to buy something."

"What thing?"

"Surprise."

Y/n rolled her eyes, but smiled. She knew there was no point in insisting. So she just went back to telling stories about work, and Lewis listened attentively as they drove through the city.

A few minutes later, he stopped in front of a 24-hour store.

"What are you going to do?" Y/n asked as soon as he turned off the car.

Lewis smiled. "I'll be back in a few seconds." He leaned over, kissed her on the cheek, and got out of the car.

Y/n laughed to herself and started changing music on the dashboard, waiting for him.

When Lewis returned, he held a single rose in his hands. He opened the door and handed the flower to her with a small smile.

Y/n frowned, but took the rose, laughing. "Thank you..."

Lewis took a deep breath and looked at her. "I didn't have time to buy a bigger bouquet," he said softly. "But I had to do it today. You know!"

Y/n understood instantly. Her chest tightened, but not in a bad way. Just intense.

Then, for the first time, Lewis began to speak. "I never knew how to put it into words. You know. I used to write it on notes, but now I'm a little better at saying it out loud," he began, his voice low but firm. "All these years, I've tried to move on, I've tried to accept it... But the truth is, a part of me has always felt like I failed you. That I should have done more." Y/n squeezed the rose between her fingers, feeling her heart tighten in her chest. "I've imagined so many times what it would be like. You holding our baby in your arms. Us choosing names, setting up the nursery, fighting over who would stay up late at night... I always knew you would be an amazing mother, Y/n. And it hurts me to know that we never had that chance."

His voice wavered at the end, and Y/n felt tears well up in her eyes. She ran her fingers down Lewis’s cheek, feeling the texture of his stubble beneath her touch.

"You didn't fail me, Lew," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "And you'd make an amazing father. I always knew that."

His eyes met hers, seeking comfort in the midst of their shared pain.

"I know it still hurts" Y/n continued, smiling sadly. "But... today I feel like I can breathe a little better. I'm taking the courage to say this out loud to you."

Lewis smiled slightly, bringing his hand to hers and intertwining their fingers. With the other, he places it on her cheek and smiles. "You are an incredible woman. And a very good mommy, with or without them here. I love you." Lewis kisses her, Y/n smiles and returns the kiss.

When they lose their breath, Lewis still keeps his hands intertwined with hers and starts the car, to go home now. Y/n smiled at the rose in her hand and went back to talking about the funny moments at work.

When they got home, Lewis opened the door and let Y/n in first. As soon as she stepped into the living room, Roscoe came running up to her, wagging his tail excitedly.

"Hey, kiddo" Y/n smiled, running her hand through the dog's fur.

She walked to the kitchen and grabbed a vase to put the rose in. When Lewis arrived shortly after, Y/n was leaning over the counter, looking at the flower with a smile on her face.

The silence stretched for a few seconds before she took a deep breath and hesitantly closed the distance between them. "I... I still want to have children."

Lewis was quiet for a moment, but then he nodded and walked over to her. Y/n looked at her husband, feeling her heart beat faster. "All of this still hurts." She confessed, "And I'll never forget. I don't want to forget. They're part of our history. But I want to move on."

Lewis nodded again, and Y/n felt his hand on hers, warm and comforting. She swallowed hard before asking, "Do you still want to have children with me?" She cried softly.

And then, that question caught Lewis off guard, pain shot through his chest and punched his heart. It made tears come to his eyes as well.

"Of course I do, love." His voice was choked, but full of conviction. "I've never wanted this with anyone else but you. I could never imagine my life without us building a family together." Y/n sobbed softly, and Lewis squeezed her hand tighter. "It still hurts to think about them... and I think it always will. But I want to move on with you, in whatever way, for as long as it takes. Not to forget... but to turn the page. To give new meaning to all of this. I'd face anything to be able to hold our baby in my arms one day" He whispered. "And I know that when that day comes, it will be worth every moment."

Y/n sobbed harder and pulled him into a tight hug. Lewis's chest rose and fell rapidly, trying to control his emotion, but he held her like he never wanted to let go.

For a long time, they stayed like that, just breathing together, feeling each other's warmth, allowing that moment to completely envelop them.

A comfortable silence fell, and then Roscoe came over to them, nudging Y/n’s leg with his nose. She laughed and bent down to pet the dog, while Lewis watched her, his heart lighter than it had been in years.

And in that moment, as he watched the woman he loved smiling softly, her eyes still shining with emotion, Lewis knew that no matter what the future brought, he would never be alone.

He had Y/n. And one day, they would have a little piece of their love in their arms.

Author: I had seen somewhere where the husband did exactly that to his wife, but I can't remember where I had read it. But anyway, I cried while reviewing it.

#fanfiction #y/n #romance #imagines #one shot #marriage #formula 1 #formula one #fem reader #female reader #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton

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jostew · 2 days ago

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Arya had gone though three dresses already that year. It wasn’t HER fault that the dresses were flimsy and she was growing like a weed. She had begged her mother for a pair of trousers like her brothers wore, but Catlyn had insisted that women wear dresses, not to mention she would grow out of trousers just as quickly.

This most recent dress-replacing one that had met with an unfortunate fate in the stables- was a lovely shade of green. It had reminded her of the leaves in the forest, so of course she had to go out and see just how well she could blend in. She was almost able to sneak up on a rabbit, but then she had tripped over the stupid long skirt. Now it was torn at the hem and stained at the ends of her sleeves from catching herself in the dirt. Not that Arya cared one bit, but she was dreading what would happen when her mother saw her. So Arya snuck back into the castle, hoping she could make it to her rooms without being noticed. She would change and do her best to clean it up. Not much to be done about the hem though. She had almost made it when she rounded a corner and bumped into Sansa.

Sansa’s eyebrows shot up at the sight of her, and Arya winced, prepared for the worst.

“Mother’s going to kill you if she sees that”

“Please don’t tell her Sansa” the words shot out of Aryas mouth before she even knew what she was saying. Of course Sansa would tell on her. She felt like her big sister lived to make her feel bad. Sansa never ruined a dress. In fact, she loved to sit in her room and sew, making her dresses just as pretty as she was.

The silence was excruciating as Arya watched Sansa think it over, biting her lip.

“…well come on then” Sansa turned and led Arya to her room next door.

“I think I have some lace that should cover that up. But you owe me.”

“You can have all of my desserts for the next month!” Arya blurted, pulling the dress over her head.

Sansa looked over from her sewing kit and gave her sister a level stare.

“Two months…?” Arya pleaded, holding out the dress

“Two months,” Sansa agreed, taking the dress. “Also stop trying to stab me every time Septa tries to make you sew.”

“Deal” Arya agreed. It wouldn’t be too difficult to sneak herself some desserts from the kitchen, plus Jeyne reacted so much better to getting poked with needles anyways. “Just don’t make it too frilly”

"before the feast"

whenever i see art of these two theyre always rivals😥 i need some sister bonding ft embarrased tomboy Arya and seamstress Sansa

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rindreamery · 22 hours ago

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nishi's thoughts ─ itoshi sae x reader ─ enemies to ?

"i would rather tread through mud in a new dress than dance with you," you whisper harshly through gritted teeth, gazing into his eyes with animosity. but the polite smile on your lips never falters.

even with the crescendo of the violins in the background, and the chatter of the ton surrounding the two of you, you hear sae scoff under his breath. loud and clear. but he doesn't let it show— his face simply remains neutral, lips pressed into a relaxed line, as he sways you around the ballroom. keeping up the facade of a pleasant dance for anyone who may be watching keenly.

mainly, your mother and his, who had forced the two of you together.

"charming," comes his rather dry, but expected, response. there is not a hint of care in his voice, just irritatingly smooth and monotone as he speaks. "no one is stopping you."

and as if to prove a point, his grip on you loosens at that, his once firmly placed hand on your waist merely hovering. but you sway with him regardless, not making a move to leave.

“scared?”

it takes everything in you to resist the urge to roll your eyes, lips twitching as you fight back a frown. your eyes flicker over to your mother momentarily, checking, only to see that she’s staring right at the two of you. there’s a kind smile on her face as her eyes trail after you two, but you know better— it’s kind, but threatening. reminding you to be nice to him, or else.

you hold your tongue, bringing your gaze back to the man in front of you. “judging from the fact that you won't truly let go of me, it seems you are too.”

like you, he glances over to his mother, and then back at you. “then, i suppose that leaves you with no choice but to dance with me.”

you breathe in heavily, dreading the thought, and you force your smile to be even sweeter and more sickening. “i will pity your next partner—” before you fake a stumble, pretending to trip over your feet as you ‘miscount’ the steps to the beat. you tighten your grip on him, gloved fingers digging into his shoulders, and stepping deliberately onto his foot, angling the heel of your shoe into his with added emphasis.

sae’s body stiffens imperceptibly, and a sharp wince flashes across his face, gone before anyone else can notice. but you don’t miss the way his eyes narrow, ever so slightly, almost glaring at you. maybe, even a little bit in disbelief. you chortle at that, restrained as you try not to make too loud of a sound.

to other people, it looks like a clumsy mistake— a small misstep in your footing. but judging from the look in his eyes, you know he knows.

he grips onto your waist in retaliation, though, with not nearly as much force. provoked. “how unfortunate for you, then.”

#def not a repost haha 👩🏻‍🦯‍➡️#blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi sae #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi #sae itoshi x reader #sae x reader

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mattsobvimyfav · 2 days ago

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unknown

Y/N has always played it safe—balancing her job as a pediatric nurse, and her careful lifestyle. But one night out with her friend, Jordan, changes everything. When she meets Matt and Chris—two dangerous, enigmatic brothers—she’s drawn into a world she doesn’t belong in. But the more she resists, the harder they pulls her in.

p.2

chapter 1

Boston in the early summer has a certain charm—sunlight reflecting off the Charles River, the distant hum of traffic blending with the laughter of people enjoying the warmth after months of bitter cold. It’s home, familiar and comforting.

At twenty-two, I’ve checked off one of the biggest milestones of my life—graduating nursing school. Now, I’m officially a pediatric nurse at one of the best children’s hospitals in the country, something I’ve worked tirelessly for. My days are filled with tiny hands gripping mine, sleepy smiles, and moments of both heartbreak and hope. It’s exhausting, but I love it. Every shift reminds me why I chose this path—to help, to heal, to be there for the little ones who need it most.

When I’m not at the hospital, I spend my time buried in books, or going out shopping with friends, But if I’m not reading, chances are, I’m with the family I’ve worked for since I was eighteen.

The Moore family hired me as their nanny fresh out of high school, and somehow, four years later, I never left. Their two kids—Owen, now five, and Ella, two—have become like little siblings to me. I’ve been there for scraped knees, school projects, and bedtime stories, and even with my busy schedule, I can’t bring myself to give it up entirely. Their parents understand; they know I care too much to walk away completely.

My life is a carefully balanced routine—nursing shifts, nannying, the occasional days with friends, and nights spent curled up watching my favorite show or reading my favorite book. And yet, despite how full my days are, there’s a small part of me that wonders if I’m missing something.

Thursday night was another long one. I worked the second shift from 7 PM to midnight in the respiratory section of the children's hospital, a place where the air always seemed just a little heavier. The unit was full—kids battling asthma flare-ups, pneumonia, and RSV, their small chests rising and falling with labored breaths.

My first patient of the night was a five-year-old girl named Lily, who had been admitted earlier that day with severe asthma. Her mother hovered anxiously by her bedside, asking a million questions as I checked Lily’s oxygen levels and adjusted her nebulizer. I did my best to reassure her, keeping my tone calm and steady. It wasn’t lost on me how terrifying it must be to watch your child struggle to breathe.

After Lily, I moved on to a toddler with RSV, his tiny frame looking even smaller beneath the tangle of tubes and wires. His parents had stepped out for a quick break, so I sat with him for a few minutes, rubbing small circles on his back as he dozed in and out of restless sleep. Moments like these made the exhaustion worth it—being able to offer even the smallest bit of comfort.

The night continued in a blur of vitals checks, medication rounds, and hushed conversations with worried parents. Around 10:30 PM, I grabbed a quick snack from my bag, savoring the brief moment of stillness before heading back into the harsh reality.

By the time midnight rolled around, my feet ached, and my body begged for sleep. But as I clocked out and stepped into the cool Boston air, I felt something else too—gratitude. For the kids who fought so hard, for the parents who loved so fiercely, and for the privilege of being there to help, even in the smallest of ways.

It was now Friday morning, and I can already feel the excitement bubbling up inside me. The week has felt so long, but today is all about taking a break with my friend, Jordan.

I get up, stretch, and head to my closet, trying to figure out what to wear. After a moment of hesitation, I grab my white cardigan. Underneath, I slip on a black cropped tank top that I know goes with pretty much anything. Then, I pick out my favorite khaki mini skirt. I pair everything with my white converse.

I grab my phone, scroll through a few messages, and decide to head out early. The morning air feels nice, so I make my way to the front steps of my apartment and sit down, legs crossed. It’s quiet outside, the kind of peaceful stillness you only get in the morning. I take a deep breath, enjoying the calm.

I’m just scrolling through my phone when I hear the sound of an engine approaching. Looking up, I see Jordan’s bright blue Jeep Wrangler coming down the street, turning the corner as it makes its way straight to me.

I smile as she parks, rolling down the window. "Ready for our girl's day?" she calls out, her grin already spreading across her face.

"Always," I reply, jumping to my feet, grabbing my bag, and heading over to the Jeep.

I hop into the passenger seat of Jordan's Jeep. She pulls away from the curb and grins at me, her hands gripping the wheel.

"So, what’s the plan for today?" I ask, turning to face her.

"First stop for breakfast. Then, I need to make a quick pit stop, then go shopping" she says with a mischievous smile.

I raise an eyebrow. "A pit stop? What are we talking about?"

Jordan just shrugs, her grin widening. "You'll see. But first, we need food. I’m starving."

I laugh, the anticipation building as we head to our favorite café in town. It’s a little spot that serves the best avocado toast and strong coffee, perfect for getting our day started. We pull into the parking lot, and I can already smell the rich aroma of fresh coffee drifting out as we walk in.

The café is quiet, the morning rush already over. We grab a table by the window, and Jordan places our usual order—avocado toast with eggs and two iced lattes. I don’t mind—she always knows exactly what I’ll want. As we wait for our food, we chat about the week, and was in the middle of telling her about my patience last night when I noticed a couple of people at a nearby table glancing over at us.

Jordan notices too and raises an eyebrow. "What’s going on? You seem a little tense today."

I shrug, "I don’t know. Just feels like people stare at us sometimes."

She smirks. "Y/N, we clash pretty hardcore. I mean, look at us."

I roll my eyes, though I know she’s right. I can’t deny it—there’s something about the way I carry myself that screams "basic good girl." and she’s the blueprint definition of grunge.

Jordan nudges me, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Relax. They’re just looking. Let them." We both laugh just as our food arrives.

"Alright," Jordan says as she sips her coffee, "after we eat, I’ve got to make that stop."

After breakfast, we slide back into the Jeep, the warm feeling of a good meal still lingering.

"Get comfortable," she tells me, glancing over with a half-smile. "It’s gonna be a little bit of a drive."

I nod, still curious about the “pit stop” she mentioned earlier. The roads blur by as we drive through neighborhoods I don’t recognize, the buildings getting more worn down as we leave the busier parts of town. Finally, she pulls up in front of a rundown house on the edge of a quiet street. The place looks like it’s seen better days—paint peeling off the siding, the yard overgrown with weeds.

Jordan parks the Jeep and sends a quick text, her fingers flying across her phone. I glance at her, feeling a strange unease settle in my chest.

"Who are we meeting here?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

Jordan looks at me for a second, the serious look returning to her eyes. "Just stay calm. It’s no big deal, I swear."

We wait in silence for a moment before the door to the house creaks open. Two guys, who look nearly identical, step out onto the porch. They’re dressed in baggy sweatpants and wife beaters, they glance to their left and right before walking over.

Jordan rolls down her window as one of them heads straight for her side of the Jeep. The other boy makes his way to my window, giving me a once-over before leaning against the door.

"Hey" Jordan says coolly, and I watch as they exchange a few words. I can’t make out everything they’re saying, but I know it’s about weed. I always knew Jordan smoked but she had never brought me to pick up her supply.

The guy by my window with dark hair and a cocky grin—glances at me, sizing me up. "Who’s this pretty little thing?" he asks, his voice smooth and a little playful.

Before I can respond, Jordan cuts in sharply, her voice low but firm. "No, Matthew. She’s off-limits. She doesn’t belong in your world."

I blink, a little taken aback by the way Jordan says it. The guy, Matthew, chuckles darkly, clearly not bothered by her words.

"Relax, Jordan. It’s just a question," he says, leaning closer to my window.

Jordan gives him a hard look. "No, Matthew. Hands off. She’s not for you."

The other boy who’s been standing by Jordan’s side, smirks. "C’mon, Jord, let us meet the girl," he says, his voice more playful than Matt’s. "What’s the harm?"

Jordan shakes her head firmly. "No, Chris," she says, her tone leaving no room for argument.

I watch the two boys exchange looks, their attention flicking between Jordan and me. I start to put their names to their faces: Matt with the easy grin, and Chris, who seems like he’s having too much fun with this.

Matt suddenly turns his attention back to Jordan. "You hear about that party tonight?"

Jordan sighs, her expression softening. "I’ll be there," she says.

Before I can ask her anything, the deal wraps up, and Matt gives Jordan a nod, Chris handing her something small. The air seems to shift as everything falls back into place.

"Let’s go," Jordan mutters, her foot hitting the gas as the Jeep speeds off.

As we drive away, my mind is buzzing with questions. I glance at Jordan, who’s still focused on the road, I can’t keep quiet anymore.

"Who were those guys?" I ask, trying to keep my voice casual, though I’m definitely curious. "Matt and Chris."

Jordan lets out a small sigh, and I can tell she’s debating whether or not to tell me more. Finally, she speaks up.

"They’re triplets," she says, her tone a little more serious now. "They have another brother who lives out in LA. The three of them��Matt, Chris, and Nick—are big-time dealers. The kind of guys you don’t mess with unless you really know what you're doing."

My eyes widened a bit, the weight of her words sinking in. I always knew Jordan was in the know, but hearing this side of her world feels a little... overwhelming. "Wait, so they’re like legit drug dealers? And you hang out with them?"

Jordan glances over at me. "Yeah, but don’t get the wrong idea. I know them from way back. They’ve always been around, but we keep it casual. I don’t get too deep into their business. I keep my distance."

I nod slowly, "And their brother in LA, is he in the same line of work?"

"Yeah," Jordan confirms with a slight shrug. "That’s just the way they roll. You’ll get used to it."

I don’t know if “used to it” is something I want to get, but I keep my thoughts to myself. My mind drifts to what happened earlier. The way Matt kept eyeing me.

"So, what about tonight?" I ask, my curiosity getting the best of me. "The party Matt mentioned. Are we going?"

Jordan’s hands tighten on the wheel, and I catch a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. "You’ve never asked to go to a party before," she says, almost as if speaking to herself. "It’s always just been my thing. You’ve never really been interested in it."

I raise an eyebrow. "Well, there’s a first time for everything I guess."

My heart beats a little faster at the thought of stepping into that world, but then I catch a spark of excitement in Jordan’s voice. She’s got that fire in her eyes.

"Okay," I say, biting my lip nervously but also feeling the pull of curiosity. "Let’s go get me a new outfit."

Jordan flashes me a grin, her excitement matching mine. "Perf. Let’s go shopping."

A few minutes later, we pull up to a little boutique in the city. It’s not too far from where we were, but it feels worlds away from the rundown house we just left. I follow Jordan inside, the bells above the door jingling as we walk in. The place is packed with clothes—bright colors, edgy designs.

"Alright, pick something that’s revealing and sexy. You’ll wanna fit in.’" Jordan says with a wink. "You need something bold. You can’t show up in the same vibe as that avocado toast and cardigan look."

I laugh at the little stray she threw my way "Okay, okay. Let’s see what you’ve got in mind."

We spend the next hour in the boutique, Jordan practically dragging me from one rack to another, pushing me to try on things I never would have considered before. She pulls out a black corset top that looks a little daring, with intricate lace detailing and a structure that feels way more bold than anything I’d normally wear.

"You’re going for something sexy tonight," Jordan insists, tossing it at me. "Trust me, this will make an impression."

I hold it up to myself in front of the mirror, considering it. "Are you sure this is my style?" I ask, a bit unsure. The corset is tight, the cleavage daring, and the fabric feels both delicate and bold all at once.

"It’s not," she urges, giving me a knowing look. "That’s the point."

I give in and head to the changing room. When I slip into the corset, I’m surprised by how good it actually feels on—tight in all the right places, highlighting my waist in a way I didn’t expect. I step back into the main area, and Jordan’s eyes widen.

"Okay, okay, you look amazing," she says, nodding approvingly. "Now, let's get you some jeans to go with it."

I follow her to the denim section, and after a few minutes, I grab a pair of light-wash, wide-leg jeans. They’re flowy, a little more relaxed than the jeans I usually wear, but they somehow seem like the perfect balance to the corset’s structured look. I hold them up next to the top, and Jordan gives an exaggerated thumbs-up.

"Yes! These are perfect" she says. "This is how you’ll fit in."

I grab them, along with a pair of mini black heels that match the edgy vibe we’re going for. They’re simple but have just enough height to make me feel confident, without being too much.

When I step out of the fitting room in the full outfit, Jordan looks me over, a grin spreading across her face. "Girl, you’re ready. You look hot."

I laugh nervously, standing in front of the mirror. "I don’t even know if I can pull this off... but I kind of love it."

Jordan raises an eyebrow. "You’ve got this. Trust me, I’ll be by your side the whole night."

"Alright," I say, taking a deep breath. "Let’s do this."

After we finish shopping, Jordan insists on stopping by a few other places. We grab lunch, then swing by a beauty store for some makeup essentials.

"Trust me," she says, tossing a tube of mascara into the basket. "We’re going all out tonight."

By the time we’re done, the day has flown by. We’re laughing and chatting about random things, and the excitement I felt earlier is turning into a nervous energy that I can’t quite shake. Every now and then, my mind drifts back to the conversation about Matt and Chris.

When we finally get back to Jordan’s place, she pulls into the driveway with that same determined look she’s had all day. “Alright, babe, it’s time.”

I stare at her, my heart doing a little flip. "Time for what?"

"Time to get ready," she says, hopping out of the Jeep before I can say anything else.

I grab my shopping bags and follow her inside, my pulse picking up pace. Jordan leads me to her room, which is filled with a mix of clothes and half-open drawers. She’s already pulling out a few items, and I can’t help but laugh nervously.

The next few hours feel like a whirlwind. Jordan’s apartment is a crazy mess as we rush to get ready.

“Okay, sit down,” she orders, motioning to the chair in front of her vanity. I do as I’m told, watching her rummage through a drawer filled with makeup products. “Let’s make sure you look amazing tonight,” she says with a grin.

I glance at my reflection in the mirror, still not quite used to the corset top and the wide-leg jeans. The outfit is bold, daring, but I can’t help feeling like I’m playing dress-up in someone else’s clothes. Still, Jordan seems so confident in it, and I trust her.

She starts with my face, prepping my skin with some kind of serum and moisturizer she swears by. I close my eyes and let her work her magic, her hands light but sure as she applies the base, blending everything seamlessly. My skin already looks smoother, more even than it usually does.

“You’re gonna love the foundation I got for you,” she says, swiping a brush across my cheeks. “It’s got this glow to it—makes your skin look like it’s glowing from within.” She finishes with a dusting of powder, setting everything in place.

I watch as she moves to my eyes. “We’re going for sultry, babe. Just big huge lashes,” she says, applying a thick coat of mascara, making my lashes look long and voluminous.

“Open your eyes,” she says with a smirk as she steps back to admire her work. I glance in the mirror and can’t believe how much my eyes pop just from mascara.

Jordan then turns her attention to my lips. She picks up a pink lip liner, carefully lining the edges before putting on a pink tinted lip gloss

I smile nervously. I’m not used to this kind of attention. My usual look is… nothing. I’ve never done lip gloss or anything like this before. But tonight, I feel like someone else.

“Now for your hair,” Jordan says, pulling me from my thoughts. She grabs a curling iron, giving me a teasing grin as she begins to curl my hair in loose waves. The heat feels strange against my hair, but the result is incredible—full, bouncy curls that make my hair look effortlessly voluminous. She finishes with a little hairspray, just enough to hold everything in place without it looking stiff.

By the time she’s done, I’m sitting there, staring at my reflection in awe. The outfit, the makeup, the hair—it’s like I’m looking at a completely different version of myself. The girl in the mirror looks confident, daring, ready to take on whatever comes her way.

Jordan steps back, inspecting me one last time. “You look incredible, Y/N. Trust me, no one’s going to be able to take their eyes off you tonight.”

I swallow, my heart racing. “Are Matt and Chris going to be there?” I ask, almost hesitantly.

“Absolutely,” she says, giving me a wink. “and you're absolutely staying away from them.” She finished with a straight face.

I giggle at her firmness. Jordan grabs her own outfit, pulling on a leather jacket and running a hand through her hair as she heads for the door. “Alright, You ready?”

I cheer a little, feeling the rush of nervous excitement flood over me. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Jordan’s Jeep rumbles down a dark road, the streetlights becoming fewer and farther between. The neighborhood looks eerily similar to the one we were in earlier today—rundown houses, cracked sidewalks, I shift in my seat, glancing at Jordan, but she looks completely unfazed, focused on the road ahead.

When we finally pull up in front of a house, my stomach twists. It’s a large, old place with chipping paint and music blasting from inside. There are people lingering on the front porch, passing around drinks and cigarettes, their laughter mixing with the heavy bass of whatever song is playing.

Jordan throws the Jeep in park and turns to me. “Alright, listen,” she says, her voice firm. “Stick with me, have fun, but stay away from Matt and Chris. Got it?”

I roll my eyes, unable to hide my curiosity. “Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

She gives me a knowing look before hopping out of the car. I follow, as we make our way up the front steps and through the open door.

Inside, the air is thick with smoke, the scent of weed and something else I can’t place. The place is packed, people spilling into every room, music vibrating through the floors. Jordan walks in like she owns the place, immediately getting daps and side-hugs from a few guys as we move through the crowd.

“Jordy!” A girl with long, dark braids grins and pulls Jordan into a hug. “I didn’t know if I’d see you tonight.”

Jordan smirks. “Had to make an appearance. Thought I’d bring my girl Y/N with me.” She pulls me forward slightly, and I suddenly feel all eyes on me.

The girl gives me a once-over and smirks. “Cute. You don't really look like you belong here, though.”

Jordan just chuckles. “Last I checked, you're not the one who makes the calls around here, thanks for your opinion though!”

I laugh nervously, as the girl looks me up and down again before scoffing and walking away. Jordan hands me a red solo cup filled with something that smells strong. “Drink up,” she says with a wink. “It’ll help you loosen up.”

I take a sip and wince at the burn, but I don’t complain. The warmth spreads through me almost instantly, and suddenly, the party doesn’t feel as overwhelming. Jordan keeps introducing me to people—some friendly, some giving me lingering looks that make me shift uncomfortably. But with each sip of my drink, I relax a little more.

An hour or so passes in a blur of music, dancing, and conversation. At some point, Jordan disappears into a crowd of people near the stairs, leaving me standing alone in the living room. My cup is empty, and the warmth in my chest is starting to fade, so I decided to get another.

Making my way to the kitchen, I squeeze past groups of people talking and laughing. The kitchen is slightly less crowded, but it’s still buzzing with energy. I grab a bottle of some kind of alcohol, about to pour myself another drink when a deep voice cuts through the noise.

“Didn’t take you for the kind of girl to be here.”

I freeze for a second before turning my head.

Matt.

He’s leaning against the counter, watching me with an amused smirk. His eyes flicker over my outfit, lingering just a little too long on the corset before meeting my gaze again. He’s effortlessly put together—black jeans, a fitted long-sleeve shirt, and that same dangerous charm radiating off him like a magnet.

I clear my throat, trying to keep my cool. “I didn’t take you for the kind of guy who lurks in kitchens.”

Matt chuckles, stepping closer. “I don’t. I was actually looking for a drink, but now I think I found something more interesting.”

I roll my eyes, but my stomach flips. “Smooth.”

He grins. “I try.” His body close enough that I can smell his cologne—something dark and expensive. “So, tell me, Y/N, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

I lift a brow. “You say that like I don’t belong here.”

“Because you don’t.” His voice is low, almost teasing. “You’re different.”

“Different how?” I ask, genuinely curious.

Matt’s eyes flicker to my lips before back up to my eyes. “Too sweet. Too… innocent.” His lips twitch like he finds it amusing. “It’s refreshing.”

I swallow, suddenly feeling like I need another drink. “Maybe.”

Matt chuckles again, shaking his head. “Oh, trust me, sweetheart, you are.” His voice drops slightly, the edge of danger in his tone making my pulse quicken. “That’s why Jordan warned me to stay away from you.”

I blink. “She did?”

“Oh yeah.” He smirks. “Made it very clear. Told me you're too good for me.” He leans in slightly, his voice just above a whisper. “And maybe she’s right.”

I should probably listen to Jordan. Every instinct in me says Matt is the kind of guy I should stay away from. But the way he’s looking at me, the way his presence pulls me in like gravity—I don’t move.

Before I can even think of a response to Matt, another voice interrupts.

“Finally,” the voice drawls. “We get to meet you without Jordan shutting it down.”

I turn my head to see Chris sauntering toward us, looking just as sharp as Matt but with a slightly more mischievous smirk. His eyes flick between me and his brother before settling on me.

“How about you come sit with us? Let us get to know you,” Chris suggests, motioning toward a worn-out couch in the corner of the room.

Before I can answer, Matt’s hand is already at my waist, guiding me toward the couch. My heart pounds as we move through the crowd, Chris leading the way, Matt’s presence heavy beside me.

As soon as we reach the couch, I start to sit down, but Matt subtly steers me to the middle, settling me between him and Chris. The warmth of their bodies on either side of me is immediate, a stark contrast to the slight chill in the air. Matt drapes his arm lazily over the back of the couch, fingertips just barely grazing my shoulder, while Chris stretches out comfortably, his knee nearly touching mine.

Chris grins. “Let’s play a little game. Twenty questions.”

Matt chuckles, his voice low. “You up for it, sweetheart?”

I glance between the two brothers, fully aware of how much trouble I might be walking into. But something about Matt’s quiet intensity and Chris’ playful attitude makes it impossible to pull away.

“Fine,” I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel. “I’m game.”

Chris smirks. “Alright, I’ll start. First question—where are you from?”

“Just outside the city,” I reply, relaxing just a little.

Matt hums. “Explains why you seem so… untouched.”

I roll my eyes, but my cheeks burn. “Next question.”

Chris leans forward, resting his arm on his knee. “Biggest fear?”

I hesitate. “Losing all of my teeth.”

Matt’s fingers tighten slightly against the couch cushion behind me. “Interesting.”

Chris raises a brow. “What’s your guilty pleasure?”

I bite my lip, thinking. “Old romance novels.”

Chris groans. “Lame.”

Matt, however, smirks. “Nah, that tracks. You seem like the type who loves the idea of some brooding, dangerous guy sweeping you off your feet.”

I don’t respond. The look in his eyes tells me he already knows the answer.

Chris continues. “What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?”

I hesitate before admitting, “Probably this. Sitting between two guys I barely know at a party I wasn’t even supposed to be at.”

Matt’s arm shifts, his fingers brushing against my shoulder. His voice is laced with amusement as he murmurs, “Damn, sweetheart. That’s your craziest thing? We’ll have to change that.”

Chris smirks. “Alright, let’s up this. Next question—what’s your biggest turn-on?”

My breath catches in my throat. My instinct is to play it safe, but the heat from Matt’s gaze and the mischief in Chris’ expression make me feel bold.

“Confidence,” I say, tilting my head slightly. “But not arrogance.”

Chris raises an eyebrow. “So you like guys who know what they want?”

“Yeah,” I admit. “But not the ones who feel like they need to prove something.”

Matt hums, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against the fabric of the couch beside me. “Good answer.”

Chris leans in slightly, his grin widening. “What’s your biggest fantasy?”

I keep eye contact with him, watching as his expression darkens slightly with intrigue. My cheeks warm.

“That’s a little personal, don’t you think?” I tease, trying to deflect.

Chris laughs. “That’s the point, babe. You’re the one who agreed to play.”

I bite my lip, contemplating. The heat in the room, the tension in Matt’s touch, the look in Chris’ eyes—it makes me want to say something I normally wouldn’t.

I take a slow sip from my drink, gathering my courage before answering, “I guess I like the idea of someone being completely in control of my body.”

Matt’s fingers tighten slightly behind me, his breath hitching just a little.

Chris whistles. “Damn. You might be more fun than I thought.”

Matt finally speaks, his voice low and edged with something I can’t quite place. “Careful what you admit around us, sweetheart.”

I arch a brow, feigning innocence. “Why’s that?”

Matt smirks, his arm brushing against my back as he leans in, his lips barely grazing my ear.

“Because we don’t play fair.”

tag-

(divider by @cafekitsune) @tbfaptbfae @ch0llies @2muchofaslvt @rockstarchr1s @simply-a-simper @mattscore @watercolorskyy @urfungi @slut4christopherr @mattsturnii @christmastreecake @izzylovesmatt @larnieboox88 @realuvrrr @namelesssav @matts-girlfriend @emely9274

#christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x you #sturniolo triplets #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #chris sturiolo fanfic

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simvanie · 16 hours ago

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7 Sins Legacy - generation 5 (gluttony)

Joy: What's coma? Temperance: Hm?

Joy: Auntie Yasmine said daddy is in coma. Temperance: It's uhh... a very deep sleep. But we can't wake daddy up like you can with normal sleep. It doesn't work. It's because he's sick, and we just have to wait if- ...until he wakes up himself.

Joy: Oh... Okay. Ava: Mommy? Temperance: Yes?

Ava: How you know? Temperance: Know what? Ava: You love daddy?

Temperance was taken aback for a second. She didn't realize how much her daughters had picked up from the conversation with Yasmine. Or how a three-year-old is even aware of the concept of love.

Explaining what a coma is to a toddler is one thing, but having to explain love, a feeling that entails so much, one of the most intense and beautiful feelings, that can be the root of complete happiness but also of the most painful heartbreaks,

felt like a cruel way from the universe to remind her that there is a chance that she would never feel love like this again if she lost the person in front of her.

Temperance: I know because... the thought that I have to exist without him literally hurts.

Supriya: I couldn't have said it better myself. Temperance: Oh! Supriya- I'm so sorry for having called you on such short notice, I called everyone but no one had time to watch the twins today...

Supriya: No- no, don't worry about that, I'm happy to babysit them. It's important that you take some time for yourself... How is he doing? Temperance: Still the same. His vitals are stable, so that's a good thing, I guess...

Supriya: He's strong... Always stood up for the things that he believed in. The food stall and job he had as a teenager- He saved up as much as he could so he could open his own restaurant. A real businessman. And I've only realized that now-

-It would be a shame if I never get the chance to tell him how proud I am of him... But I know he's a fighter, so we shouldn't give up hope. Alright, who's ready to have a sleepover at grandma's? Ava: Meee!

Joy: Mommy, mommy! I drew daddy! Temperance: Oh Joy, that's beautiful! He would love it. Do you want me to hang it on the wall so he can have it close to him? Joy: Yes!

Supriya: Alright girls, let's say goodbye to your mother and father and then we go and see what grandpa is up to. I told him to go buy some new things for the both of you to play with while you stay with us. Ava: Ooo! What is it?

#the sims 4 #ts4 #sims 4 #the sims #sims #simblr #ts4 legacy #sims 4 legacy #ts4 gameplay #sims 4 gameplay #hospital tw #coma tw #7sinslegacy #gen5 gluttony #gulshan #temperance #supriya #ava #joy

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 day ago

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Fire on the Mountain - Chapter Two: Gods and Monsters

Pairing: Otto Hightower (House of the Dragon) x OFC (Lia Costayne) Warnings: Angst, arranged marriage, canon typical sexism. Word count: ~10.2k

Chapter summary: A terrible secret threatens to bring an abrupt end to Lia's friendship with Rhaenyra and Alicent, and Otto finally shows his hand with regards to his intentions for her.

Author's note: Header by @foxinthegodswood who also beta read this for me - this story would be nothing without you. Thank you for the care and attention you have put in both myself and my writing. I love you.

“My darling Lia,

I hope you are faring well. By the time you read this, it shall be your name day. I can hardly believe that you are now fifteen. It seems as though it was just yesterday that you were placed into my arms, red faced and squawking – Ser Otto tells us you are growing into quite the young beauty, I hope that we may lay our eyes upon you ourselves soon. Alas, we cannot make the journey to the capital to deliver our warm wishes in person. I have recovered from my fever, but my health remains delicate – I must remain abed until I have regained my strength. Short walks in the sea air are helping to keep my spirits lifted, but I fear a journey across the continent would be too much for me. I hope you understand. Please do not be disheartened, and try not to worry.

Enclosed is a gift for you – a token of our love, but also a reminder of your house, so that in your absence you do not forget it. “The First to Rise”. I hope you shall wear it with pride. Your father and your brothers, Robert and Leon, send their love and their well wishes. I hope you are conducting yourself in a manner that would make us all proud.

Happy name day, my only daughter.

Your loving mother,

Lady Dyana Costayne.”

Lia allowed the parchment to flutter down upon the table top;she had read it so many times now that she was certain she could recite it by heart. Once more, she snatched the brooch from the now torn paper it had been wrapped in, turning it around in her fingers, watching as the silver of it caught the light. It was a chalice, one of the symbols that adorned the sigil of House Costayne. It was pretty, but pretty was not enough to placate the hopeless sense of abandonment that plagued her. She allowed the brooch to drop heavily on top of the letter it had accompanied, just as its shape began to blur from the tears that obscured her vision.

It had been six months since the King’s tourney for his now deceased son, six months since Lia had first received news of her mother’s ill health and learned that her family would not be attending. Each month since had delivered news that was much the same;sudden bouts of fever that left her mother confused and bedridden. She knew she should not be surprised that they would not come to see her for an occasion as trivial as her name day, the last time she had seen any of them had been when she had first arrived in King’s Landing. They had come to enjoy the hospitality of Viserys, and to offer Otto their congratulations on his recent elevation to the position of Hand of the King – it had not even been a visit to see her.

She remembered the smell of almond oil that had clung to her mother’s hair and skin as she had pulled her into a tight embrace. It was cloying and sweet, and overwhelmed her senses. She had not seen her mother for two years and, at the age of eight, such familiarity following a long separation was jarring. It had left her feeling sick. A similar nausea settled within her stomach as she cast her eyes away from her writing desk, breathing deep in a desperate bid to will away her melancholy. She would not cry upon her name day, even if she felt she had every reason to. Not a single person, save for her immediate family, appeared to have remembered, and their gift seemed so impersonal; a simple brooch did little to ease the weight of loneliness that fell upon her delicate shoulders. Though, how could they have given her anything else? As her gaze fell upon her bed, taking the crisp, white linens that were pulled taut at every corner, it occurred to her that she was more familiar with every thread that had been woven together to make up the sheets upon where she slept than she was the face of the woman who gave her life. She was as much a stranger to House Costayne as they were to her, and what could you possibly gift someone unknown to you that would hold any meaningful sentiment?

Lia rose from her seat, leaving both letter and brooch discarded upon her writing desk, and walked towards the floor length looking glass that was propped against the wall nearest the privacy screen where she dressed each morning. She leaned towards the reflective surface, dabbing beneath her eyes with the pads of her fingers, ensuring no trace of her sorrow remained before she faced the world. She turned her head, ensuring her raven curls remained fastened into a tight bun at the nape of her neck; satisfied that they had not shifted, she smoothed her hands over the bodice of her powder blue gown, and headed for the door.

Rhaenyra almost fell against her as she opened it, her own hand in the motion of pushing it inwards. Lia rolled her eyes as she caught the other girl by the shoulders, steadying her in the doorway.

“Gods, ‘Nyra, do you ever knock?” she asked exasperatedly. It was a rhetorical question; Lia already knew the answer was a resounding no. Rhaenyra was a princess, and now the heir to the Iron Throne. She never had to ask permission, she just took what she wanted, including her own friend’s sense of privacy.

“You are so ugly when you scowl,” Rhaenyra teased, a soft smile upon her lips as she raised her hand to stroke her fingers across the peachy softness of Lia’s face. “Come with me.”

Her gaze was soft, yet imploring, her blue eyes sparkling with mischievous intent and, as she withdrew her hand, Lia could not help but notice the state of her fingernails – they were clean. It was not unusual for Rhaenyra to stroll about the castle clad in her riding leathers, stinking of dragon, with her hands caked in grime from the pits in which her mount, Syrax, resided. Today, however, she smelled of bergamot. The faint scent clung to her skin, her long silver hair falling about her shoulders but not quite obscuring the loose peplum that adorned the cream coloured gown she wore. She had either just come from a meeting of the small council or was on her way to one. It seemed she was taking her duties as heir seriously. It was an odd sensation to see Rhaenyra lend any sort of care to what others thought of her, like telling the tide not to turn or the moon not to wax and wane.

“Where are we going?” Lia asked, stepping out into the corridor and pulling the door closed behind her.

“To choose the newest addition of the Kingsguard,” Rhaenyra replied, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Lia wanted to protest, to tell her that it was not her place to decide such things, her involvement was needless. The words died upon her tongue as Rhaenyra interlocked the fingers of her left hand with those of Lia’s right. Her grip was loose yet intimate, allowing for their arms to swing gently between them as they walked. In that moment, as they held hands, all of Lia’s sorrow surrounding her name day seemed to vanish, her entire world narrowed to the sensation of Rhaenyra’s hand in hers. A sense of calm settled over her as she stole glances at her friend as they walked purposefully through the winding labyrinth of Maegor’s Holdfast.

‘I hope you will hold my hand forever.’

“Will Alicent not be joining us?” Lia asked as they stepped out onto the balcony that overlooked the inner courtyard of the Red Keep.

“No,” Rhaenyra replied with a dismissive wave of her hand, stepping onto the set of wooden steps that had been placed in front of the stone balustrade to allow her to see over it better.

Lia wanted to press the issue, however, off to their right was Ser Harrold Westerling, his gaze steely, and posture rigid as he stood tall in his armour and white cloak. His presence did not broker a welcoming atmosphere for idle gossip, so she fell silent, allowing her gaze to sweep across the men gathered below, awaiting their audience with the princess.

It struck her as she looked upon them that they were spread out in a similar fashion to how cyvasse pieces are placed upon a board. She wondered if she called out for a dragon to remove an elephant from the board if they would assemble themselves to mirror the move as it is played in the game. She smiled to herself at the thought, blue eyes sparkling with amusement, until she felt the familiar weight and heat of a hand upon her shoulder, causing her to startle slightly. The smile disappeared from her face, her gaze remaining fixed ahead as she willed her heart to cease its sudden thumping against her ribs.

“Is there something that amuses you, Lady Lia?” Otto asked quietly, the subtle disapproval in his tone unmissed by her. His breath was warm against her ear and the gentle brush of his beard against the exposed juncture of her neck sent a shiver up her spine.

She had not been anticipating the Hand’s presence, and silently cursed herself for not having a witty response as she meekly shook her head, a timid sounding “no” leaving her lips.

Otto hummed in acknowledgement, stepping away from her to stand beside Rhaenyra’s elevated platform. She could still feel his hand upon her shoulder like a brand – it happened every time he touched her of late; a gentle hand upon the small of her back to guide her as they walked together, the soft brush of his fingers upon her temple as he tucked away an errant curl, they all left a blaze of heat in their wake, an uncomfortable coiling in Lia’s belly that made her cheeks flush and her mouth run dry. She hated it. She craved more of his touch while simultaneously never wanting for him to ever lay a hand upon her again.

As Ser Harrold called out each of the Knight’s names, listing off their attributes and history of service and battle, Lia’s attention was not focused on the men below, but instead how Otto loomed over Rhaenyra, whispering to her.

“You might thank him for his leal service,” she heard him advise.

She knew that as Hand of the King it was Otto’s duty to help with the recruitment of the Kingsguard, to ensure the best possible knight was placed in service of protection of the ruling monarch, and yet she could not shake her jealousy, nor could she understand it. As Otto leaned conspiratorially towards the princess and she in turn lifted her face to his, Lia was grateful for the long bell sleeves of her gown, for they hid the way her hands balled into angry fists. He used to whisper like that to her. Ever since he had begun orchestrating visits between Alicent and the King, it seemed she was of no use to him; she could not tell him anything he did not already know. A bitter, acrid taste rose up in her throat, enveloping her tongue. She was certain that if she were to speak now then every word would hang in the air, dripping with poison.

Forcing herself to look ahead, she bites back a scoff as Ser Criston Cole steps forward. The very same knight that had looked up at Rhaenyra during the tourney, and requested her favour with moon-eyed adoration. Lia’s head snapped to the side, wide eyed in disbelief and annoyance as she heard Rhaenyra state him as her choice.

“He is the only one to have known true battle, the rest are tourney knights,” she reasoned to Otto.

It was so like Rhaenyra to pick someone who fawned over her, and it was becoming more than apparent to Lia that her presence here was not really needed at all. She pushed away from the balcony edge, stepping quietly back through the doors of the Keep. There were enough reminders of her own unimportance, what with Rhaenyra being named heir and Alicent secretly courting the widowed king, without Lia being given another reason to feel like a spare part.

She walked the winding halls until she found her way to the Godswood, seating herself against the peeling white bark of the trunk of the Heart Tree, and turned her face up towards the vivid red and orange canopy of its leaves. The ground was hard beneath her, the roots lumpy against her backside, doubtless dirtying her skirts, yet she could not find it within herself to care. The sun shone warm and dappled through the branches, drawing Lia into a doze she was powerless to resist, yielding to the heaviness of her eyelids as they drifted closed.

“There you are.”

She awoke to the sound of Alicent’s voice and the gentle touch of her hand upon her shoulder, giving her a careful shake. Her eyes blinked open, vivid blue meeting those of warm brown and, for a moment, she wondered where she was.

‘Such a pretty view, have I died and the Maiden has come to guide me?’

Her brow furrowed in confusion as she took in her surroundings, green grass and gnarled roots in place of soft sheets and pillows. Realisation settled upon her as she looked back up at her friend who wore the slightest smile of amusement upon her lips as she gently plucked a stray crimson leaf from Lia’s dark curls, allowing it to flutter delicately to the ground.

“What are you doing sleeping out here? Rhaenyra and I have been looking for you,” she scolded gently, offering out a hand to help Lia to her feet.

Lia gratefully accepted her outstretched hand, moving to dust off the back of her dress as she stood. Her voice was still sleepy, nonchalant as she answered Alicent’s question while craning her neck behind her to see if her skirts were muddy. “‘Nyra wanted me to help choose a knight for the Kingsguard.It was boring so I left.”

Alicent’s loud, disapproving sigh drew Lia’s attention back to her. She turned, eyes raking over her friend from head to foot. She was wearing another of her mother’s dresses – this one a deep, royal blue with cutouts spanning the length of each sleeve. To Lia, she looked ridiculous, a little girl playing at dress up to appear more grown up than she actually was. She held her tongue, deciding it was not worth the quarrel for her to tell her so.

“Come,” Alicent said, her tone leaving no room for argument as she looped her arm through Lia’s, “your presence is needed elsewhere.”

Lia groaned, yet allowed herself to be led away. “I have had just about enough of my presence being needed today.”

“You will enjoy this, I promise,” Alicent smiled, tightening her arm in Lia’s reassuringly as they walked.

The solar had been filled with wildflowers, delicate hues of pink, yellow and white adorning every available surface. Lia took in the beautiful sight, eyes wide and lips parted in quiet admiration. Rhaenyra stood before the rounded table at the room’s centre, a wide smile upon her face and her hands clasped in front of her as Lia entered.

“You thought we had forgotten, did you not?” Rhaenyra teased, stooping to grab a silver platter laden with lemon cakes and Tyroshi honey fingers and carrying it towards her and Alicent.

“You did all of this for me?” Lia asked in quiet wonder as she turned in a full circle to admire the flowers, before looking upon the assortment of sweet treats held out before her.

“Happy name day, Lia,” Alicent said fondly, finally releasing her arm and reaching up to place a flower crown upon her head of raven curls.

The three girls reclined upon couches set in a semi circle around the table, the cakes and pastries now placed back upon it. Lia watched in quiet amusement as Rhaenyra leaned forward, plucking the candied lemon slices from each square of cake, placing them whole into her mouth. She had always had a larger appetite for everything than her and Alicent, and Lia supposed it was an inevitability of being royalty – when you were worth more, you needed more, an unbreakable cycle, an inherent hunger.

“So, how shall we spend the rest of our afternoon?” Lia asked, plucking idly at the tassel fringe of a cushion she held against her torso, as she sprawled out on her side against the plushness of the couch.

“I thought we might go to the sept,” Alicent offered, her attention focused upon a daisy that she twirled between her fingers. Her head rested against the cushions of the settee she laid upon, her legs bent at the knee.

Lia bristled at the suggestion, unable to stop her disgust from making itself apparent on her face as her features twisted, lips drawing downwards and nose wrinkling as she turned to look for any hint within Alicent’s serene expression that would suggest she was making a rare jest. Lia found none, but was mercifully spared the need to object by Rhaenyra.

“Why ever would we want to do that?” she asked haughtily, licking honey from her fingers as she lounged upon her front, silver hair falling forward around her like a silken curtain.

“I would like to pray for my mother,” Alicent said matter of factly, moving to sit up and swinging her legs over the edge of the couch, “and I thought we might pray for yours too.”

The room fell silent, and Lia immediately felt rotten for having reacted negatively to Alicent’s suggestion. From the way Rhaenyra slowly moved to prop herself up on her elbow, her gaze downcast, it was apparent the sentiment was one that was shared.

“The sept it is then,” Lia agreed softly, tugging her flower crown free from her hair as she rose to stand.

Despite the drafty, old stone of the Grand Sept, it was stiflingly hot within as they descended the steps, the heat of the candles burning bright within making sweat prickle upon the back of Lia’s neck. Alicent led her and Rhaenyra towards the large, circular dais that sat in the room’s centre, the top of it laden with lit votive candles. White wax dripped in enormous stalactites from the edge.

“I come here to be close to my mother,” Alicent told them, taking a wick and lighting her own candle, “I thought perhaps you could do the same, Rhaenyra?”

Lia shifted uncomfortably, twisting the rings upon her fingers as she looked upon the flames. The Hightowers were a pious house, and though the Costaynes followed the faith of the Seven, they did not observe quite as strictly as those they were sworn to – at least Lia did not.

“I would not know what to say,” Rhaenyra confessed, clearly sharing in Lia’s discomfort as she hesitated beside her friend.

“Then do not say anything,” Alicent insisted, giving her sleeve a gentle tug, “just contemplate quietly.”

Lia’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as Rhaenyra complied, kneeling beside Alicent and clasping her hands in front of her. She wondered if in some unknown realm, leagues away, a god of Old Valyria looked upon Rhaenyra’s actions with disdain. She pondered how Daemon, or even Viserys would react if asked to do the same, and fought the urge to smile.

“You too, Lia,” Rhaenyra said, turning her head to look up at her.

“I have no one to pray for,” she admitted, shrugging slightly, “none of my family have…have died.”

She felt almost embarrassed to allow the last of the words to leave her mouth, as though she was being prideful in flaunting something she had that they did not. If either Rhaenyra or Alicent felt that way, they did not show it.

“No one needs to have died for you to pray for them,” Alicent explained, keeping her hands folded in prayer as she turned to look at Lia. “Just kneel with us.”

Lia gave a slight nod, sighing softly as she knelt beside Rhaenyra. She placed her hands together and closed her eyes, but she did not pray. Instead her mind wandered to the last time she had visited this very same sept with her mother, when her family had visited King’s Landing all those years ago.

“Now, Lia, you must light a candle and pray for our safe travels back home,” her mother had urged her, pushing her towards the dais with a firm hand upon her back.

Lia had not prayed for her family’s safe return for the Whispering Sound. Instead she had prayed that her family could stay with her, so that she could be as happy as both Alicent and Rhaenyra were, surrounded by loved ones.

Her prayer had gone unanswered, and her family had left the next day. From that point onwards, Lia never prayed again, deciding that if there were any gods at all that they had decided she was unworthy of listening to, in which case she thought they were unworthy of speaking to.

As Lia made her way back to her chambers, she was met by Otto. He strode purposefully towards her door, drawing up to his full height in front of her as she paused at the sight of him. Her hand stilled its movements upon the door handle as she looked quizzically at the small wooden box he held in his hands.

“I had not forgotten what day it is,” he told her, the corners of his eyes crinkled in softness as he looked down at her. “Forgive me for leaving it so late, I have been otherwise occupied, but I have a gift for you.”

Lia’s eyes moved from the box, up to Otto’s face and then back again, a mixture of nerves and suspicion fluttering in her belly at the kindness and warmth he regarded her with. “What is it?”

“Allow me to show you inside,” he gestured towards the door, and Lia nodded, pushing it open and stepping forward as he followed close behind.

She watched curiously as Otto made his way towards her writing desk,her maidservant having long since tidied away her brooch and the letter from her mother, and set the box down upon it, taking a seat in the same chair that she had sat in that very morning.

“Come closer,” Otto gestured, before reaching for a sheet of parchment and the lit candle that sat upon the table.

Lia stepped towards him, her body feeling like a tightly coiled spring. She had never felt so uneasy in his presence before, and a part of her longed to flee from the room, to burst into Rhaenyra’s bedchamber just as the princess had done to her that morning, and demand sanctuary from the uncomfortable sensations that swirled within her body.

She bit back a gasp as Otto’s hands reached for her hips, firmly but not forcefully guiding her to perch upon his knee. It was nothing she had not done before – as a child, she and Alicent had shared Otto’s lap countless times while he read to them from history books. Alicent had always paid rapt attention, while Lia usually fell asleep, lulled into unconsciousness by the comforting scent of sandalwood that seemed to permeate Otto’s very essence. Sitting on his lap now, however, caused a stirring within her that made Lia’s cheeks blaze. She was so tense she feared she may shatter apart at the slightest touch.

“I had this made specially for you,” Otto explained, clearly oblivious to her discomfort as he pulled a block of golden yellow wax from the box and melted it over the candle, letting it drip onto the parchment he had in front of him.

As it pooled upon the page, Lia could see that it was the same shade of yellow as her house colours. Without realising, she leaned back against him, allowing her back to rest against his broad chest as he took a stamp from the box, encouraging her to grip the wooden handle as he wrapped his much larger hand around hers to guide it.

The contact made her breath hitch, and she sat frozen, only able to focus on the sensations of his warm, calloused palm against the back of her hand, and his sturdy thigh pressing into the underneath of her clenched thighs.

Otto pressed the stamp firmly into the wax, holding her hand there for a few seconds, before pulling it back. “If you press too lightly, the stamp will not take,” he explained, “there, can you see that?”

He let go of her hand, taking the stamp from her as she leaned forward over the desk to examine the impression that had been left in the wax. It was a circular sigil, and she recognised within it two roses from that of House Costayne, however, in place of chalices there were flames.

“What are those?” she asked, hovering her finger over a flame, careful not to press it into the still solidifying wax.

“Ah,” he rumbled from behind her, and Lia was certain she could hear a smile in his voice, “those are the beacon flames of House Hightower.”

“But why?” she asked, her brow furrowed in confusion as she twisted around in his lap to look at him.

Otto smiled softly, but his expression gave nothing away. “You will make much use of this, I am sure,” he told her, patting her softly on the hip as he made to move from his seat.

Lia sprang off of him as though she were a cat on a hot roof, though found herself suddenly heavy with disappointment at the loss of his proximity.

“Now, get to bed,” he said cooly, standing and smoothing his doublet, his expression once more becoming the look of stern disapproval she had grown used to, “the hour is late.”

She lifted the parchment as he strode from the room, examining the rose and flame sigil, pondering its meaning. She was overcome by the sense that once she discovered the truth of it, she would not like what she found, and allowed the page to slip from her fingers. It fluttered to the tabletop just as the door closed heavily behind Otto.

Lia came to stand beside Rhaenyra the following morning, as the princess looked out upon the gardens from the wall walk of the Keep. Despite the gentle breeze and warm sunshine that shone down upon them, making the lush greens of the gardens seem more vibrant than usual, Rhaenyra’s expression was pensive, her gaze hardened, mouth pinched in the way it did only when she was annoyed. Lia followed the line of Rhaenyra’s sight, catching a glimpse of Viserys walking beside Laena Velaryon. Laena looked tiny compared to Viserys, and Lia could not help but silently wonder what the King would want with a child.

“Lord Corlys has seen fit to offer a betrothal between his daughter and my father,” Rhaenyra said, as though sensing Lia’s thoughts, her tone was clipped with annoyance, her eyes never leaving the gardens below.

“She is only twelve though,” Lia said, her eyes widening in horror, trying her best to push the images that flashed through her mind away, none of them pleasant.

“Well, apparently, Rhaenys has told her that she will not have to bed him until she is fourteen.”

Rhaenyra turned to look at Lia then, and though her expression remained angry, there was a desperate sadness held within the depths of her gaze. Lia tilted her head sympathetically, reaching out to give her friend’s arm a reassuring squeeze.

“He named me as his heir, why must he remarry?” she asked, her voice trembling with emotion.

Lia did not know how to answer that, but knew her silence would offer little comfort either. “He is not attempting to replace you,” she offered gently, “but he is the king, he is expected to take a wife.”

Rhaenyra scoffed, shaking her head as she looked back towards the gardens, her expression hardening to anger once more.

“If not Laena, it will be someone else eventually,” Lia told her.

Lia followed as Rhaenyra walked away. She had meant to offer comfort, but it was obvious that in speaking the truth she had unintentionally hurt her. As they rounded the corner of the wall walk, Rhaenys came into view, sat upon a wooden bench, clearly observing the same view that they had just been.

“It bothers you, does it not?” she asked Rhaenyra with a cat-like tilt of her head.

Lia shot Rhaenyra a look of apology as she slipped away, acknowledging the elder princess with a bow of her head before going back inside. She had never felt comfortable in the presence of Rhaenys. Much like the ferocious Red Queen, Meleys, whose back she flew upon, Lia always had the sense that Rhaenys possessed the ability to tear people apart, though with words instead of rending jaws and blistering fire. She had no desire to hang around for the inevitable dressing down that Rhaenys would give her friend, lest the attention be turned upon herself. Silently, she withdrew without even a farewell to either woman, and slipped into the halls.

Alicent balked at the sight of Lia, her eyes widening slightly and her lips pressing into a tight line as they happened upon each other in the empty corridor.

“Another present for me?” Lia asked teasingly, lifting the lid of the small wooden box that Alicent held in her hands.

“Must you be so nosy?!” Alicent snapped, snatching it away and slamming the lid closed once more, but it was too late, Lia had already seen what was inside.

She recognised the small stone dragon from the model of King’s Landing that Viserys kept within his apartments. Rhaenyra had snuck them into the room when they were younger, and they had giggled raucously as they had moved the little models about the makeshift city streets, finding the very idea of a dragon visiting the Street of Silk so funny that tears of laughter had rolled down their rosy cheeks. It had been less funny when Ser Westerling had happened across them and they had received a scolding for their trespass, mercifully lenient owing to the princess’ involvement.

“Why do you have that?” Lia demanded, her stare piercing as it fixed upon Alicent’s.

“It is none of your business,” she answered simply, leaving Lia to stand there and watch as she walked away.

Really, she did not need to ask, she knew Alicent had continued her visits to Viserys at the request of her father. It was a secret she hated keeping, and for that reason alone she hoped that Viserys would agree to marry Laena Velaryon. Her friendship with Rhaenyra and Alicent would never be the same again if Otto had his way.

Lia kept a distance from Rhaenyra and Alicent over the next few days. She loved them both dearly, but Rhaenyra’s petulance regarding the inevitable betrothal of her father and Alicent’s continued secret courting of him put her in a position that made her squirm with discomfort. She preferred to exist in solitude than endure a situation where she would unleash chaos by speaking the truth or be complicit in deception if she did not.

She sat upon the settee in her chambers, her legs tucked beneath her as she leaned back against the window sill. The early afternoon light that streamed in illuminated the pages of the book she read, the tome perched precariously within the fingers of her right hand – it was a tale of a heroic knight, rescuing his lady from the clutches of a monster.

Lia scoffed as her eyes trailed over the part where the knight valiantly draws his sword, challenging the beast that holds the maiden captive.

“Wait until he realises she is friends with a princess and rides off to save her instead,” she murmured quietly to herself.

She looked up as a soft knock fell upon her door, snapping the book closed. “Come,” she called out, watching curiously as a timid looking page boy opened her door the smallest of fractions, peering through.

“Apologies for the intrusion, my lady. The Lord Hand has requested your presence in his apartments.”

“What for?” she asked curtly, annoyance prickling at her at the hesitation in the messenger’s tone and body language. It was borne of politeness, she was sure, but she found it far ruder to have to address a floating head than she would if he simply stepped into the room.

“Forgive me, my lady, he did not say.”

The boy’s expression was simpering, apologetic and, unable to stand his presence a second longer, she dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “I shall be there momentarily.”

It was a short walk from the space that Lia occupied within the castle to where Otto resided. She knew the route well, could have traversed it with her eyes closed, and yet she found herself dragging her feet, prolonging the journey. The memory of him pulling her into his lap burned fresh in her mind, if she closed her eyes she could still feel the press of his chest against her back, the touch of his hand as it guided her own. It was not the proximity that she wished to flee from, however, but the way she craved more of it.

“Did the messenger not impress upon you the need for haste?” Otto asked, brow pinched in annoyance as she entered his apartments, keeping her spine rigid against the solid wood of the door as she closed it gently behind her.

“I am afraid he did not,” she said, eyes raking over him from head to foot. He stood before the lit fireplace, which served as the only source of light in the large chamber. He cut a formidable silhouette within the gloom of his surroundings, dressed in the green of House Hightower, strapped into the iron plating that protected his middle.

She wondered how he had looked in his youth, when he had served as a knight, if he had been as stern then as he was now, or if he had charmed his way into the heart of Alyrie Florent with kisses to the hand and demands of her favour.

His lips pressed into a tight line, an expression that made Lia immediately want to grin triumphantly as she knew she had frustrated him. “I need you to assist me with my armour,” he told her, beckoning her closer.

Lia stepped towards him, the heat of the fire coupled with the feverish blush that broke out across her pale skin made her want to claw herself free of it. Instead, she busied herself with tightening the straps that held his faulds fastened. “It looks as though your squire has done most of the work for you already,” she commented, “could Alicent not help you with the rest?”

“Alicent is with the king,” he replied firmly.

Lia was grateful for the fact that Otto had his back turned to her, so that he missed the way her eyes flashed with anger as she glared at the back of his head. He was not even trying to hide it from her anymore.

He turned, holding his arms out towards her, and she reached over to the table where his gloves rested, picking one up and focusing on the feeling of the supple leather beneath her fingertips as she tugged it gently over his large hand. “Where are you going, anyway?” she questioned, attempting to mask her fury with curiosity as she lifted her eyes to meet his intent gaze.

“To Dragonstone,” he replied, as she helped him into his other glove, “and that is all you need to know,” he added quickly, as if sensing she would press for further information.

He was right of course, a thousand questions raced through her mind – what could he possibly need upon that desolate rock? It sat empty, the seat of House Targaryen that Rhaenyra would inherit one day and do as she pleased with. Otto had no business being there.

She sighed, allowing her gaze to drop as she stepped away from him, but Otto was quick to follow, closing the space between them as he gently grasped her delicate jaw in his hand, urging her to look back up at him. The leather of his glove was soft and warm, and she fought the urge to nuzzle into it.

“It is important that you grow accustomed to assisting in this manner, Lia,” he told her earnestly, “it will become a routine for you sooner than late.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion, unable to make sense of his meaning. He raised his other hand to rest upon her cheek, cradling her face as his expression softened considerably, his hazel eyes searching the blue of her own. “You will be good while I am gone?”

Her breath hitched, it felt as though all the air had been stolen away from her lungs. She placed her hands against his chest, her fingers clutching the thick quilting of his doublet, as she forced herself to grin, an attempt to dissipate the tension. “I am always good.”

Lia could still feel the press of Otto’s gloves upon her face as she leant against the balustrade of the wall walk that overlooked the gardens. Despite the crispness of the air, her skin still felt heated, even though more than an hour had passed since Otto had departed from King’s Landing.

“You look as unhappy as I feel,” Rhaenyra’s voice startled Lia from her thoughts, and she turned her head to see the princess coming to stand beside her, resting her forearms upon the stone ledge as she leaned forward to look out to the horizon.

“I would rather not speak of it,” Lia sighed, turning her attention back to the gardens below. “And what of you?”

“My uncle,” Rhaenyra said bitterly.

“I suppose that makes a change from it being your father,” Lia smirked, “but what has he done? Your father told him to return to the Vale.”

“Since when has Daemon ever done as he is told?” Rhaenyra scoffed. “He has stolen the egg meant for my brother and taken up residence upon Dragonstone.”

Lia’s lips parted in shock at the realisation, as the reason for Otto’s swift departure now made sense. She could not envision Otto being able to convince Daemon to stand down without there being significant bloodshed – the two men despised each other. She knew Rhaenyra was well aware of this too and, as she turned to look at her, she could see from the determined set of her jaw and her piercing gaze that it was not something the princess would leave unchallenged.

“You want me to talk you out of doing something stupid?” Lia asked, turning to face her fully.

Rhaenyra shook her head, pushing away from the balustrade and reached for Lia’s hand, keeping it clutched between both of her own. “I would go to Alicent if I needed to be convinced not to do something. I am asking for your support, and your silence in this.”

Lia sighed, her shoulders sagging as she cast a withering look at her friend. “‘Nyra, I–”

“Lia, please,” Rhaenyra begged, her brows arched in a look that bordered upon despair. “My uncle will listen to me, you know he will, but I need to leave here without my father or Alicent knowing, because they will try to stop me. If they ask after my whereabouts I need you to lie. Promise me – promise me – that you will give me time to get to Syrax before you say anything.”

In answer, Lia tugged her hand free of Rhaenyra’s, and pulled her into a crushing hug. The scent of bergamot mixed with smoke filled her nostrils as she pressed her face into her long, silver hair. “Please, please be careful.”

Come nightfall, neither Rhaenyra or Otto had returned yet, and Lia’s thoughts raced, anxiety coiled like a serpent within her belly as she sat up against the pillows in bed, unable to shake the idea that Daemon had hacked them to bits with Dark Sister.

Her door being gently pushed open followed the soft knock upon it, and Alicent stepped tentatively through it, the pink of her nightgown so pale it could easily be mistaken for white in certain light. She held her hands in front of her, her cuticles picked bloody as she stared at Lia with uncertainty in the depths of her brown eyes.

“It has been a long time since I have fallen asleep without both my father and Rhaenyra here,” she explained quietly, shifting nervously from foot to foot, “and…forgive me, it was a childish thought…”

“No, wait!” Lia called out, as Alicent turned back towards the door. “It isn’t childish, I do not wish to be alone either.”

Lia pulled back the covers, patting the space beside her, and Alicent’s face softened, a small smile tugging at her lips as she moved towards the bed and climbed in beside her friend. For a long moment, Lia was convinced that Alicent would simply fall asleep as the silence stretched heavy and uncomfortable between them. Her fingers stroked idly at the soft linen of the bed sheets until finally Alicent spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Do you think I am a good person?” she asked.

Lia huffed back a soft laugh, as though it were the most ridiculous question in the world. “You imbecile.”

‘You are the best of any of us.’

Alicent smiled, though it was a tight and uncomfortable thing that did not reach her eyes. “I fear Rhaenyra will no longer think I am…”

“I am guessing you know where she has gone?”

Alicent gave a slight nod. “Word of it got back to Viserys from the dragon keepers. He is furious.”

Lia glanced sideways at Alicent, it puzzled her how she could speak so casually of the king, as though she was being allowed to peer in on a secret that she had no business knowing.

“Do you wish to marry him?” Lia dared not speak his name or title, to mention either would be to fabricate it into something tangible, something that could not be undone.

“My father wants me to,” she replied simply, clutching the bedcovers tight against her chest.

“That is not what I asked,” Lia chastised softly. It had always irked her the way that Alicent made a habit of avoiding speaking her own thoughts and desires, simply existing through the whims of others. “But you know, Laena may end up being the one, and then…then you would be free.”

“I am not sure free is a word I could ever use to describe myself,” Alicent leaned in, resting her head upon Lia’s pillow, and Lia moved closer. She had no words of wisdom to offer, nothing that could quell the worry in Alicent’s heart, she simply hoped her presence was enough. Sinking down into the bed, she allowed herself to be lulled to sleep by the comforting presence of being cuddled near to the closest thing she would ever have to a sister.

Lia squealed, her heart practically leaping in her ribcage with happiness as she flung herself towards Rhaenyra the next morning. She had strode towards Lia in the courtyard, a proud smirk upon her face, still clad in her riding leathers. She was dirty and smelly, and the stench of brimstone was an assault on Lia’s senses as she crushed the filthy leather of the princess’ chest against the pristine brocade of her own. It mattered not, she had never been more pleased to see her.

“You are a sight for sore eyes,” Lia teased gently as she pulled back, discreetly checking Rhaenyra for any sign of injury.

“I am unharmed,” Rhaenyra reassured her.

“And the egg?” Lia asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Back where it belongs,” Rhaenyra’s glove clad hands tugged Lia by her forearms into the nearest alcove, her voice becoming hushed. “I have been thinking about what you said, about Laena.”

“And?” Lia urged, unresistant to Rhaenyra’s manhandling of her. She cocked her head impatiently.

“It occurred to me when I confronted Daemon how easily he could have cut me down, to reclaim his position as heir, what he believes is rightfully his,” Rhaenyra explained, never relinquishing her grasp of Lia. Lia wrapped her slender fingers as best she could around the sleeves of Rhaenyra’s riding jacket, an attempt to mirror the gesture. “I am all that stands between Daemon and the throne. Perhaps…perhaps it would not be so bad if my father were to remarry, if only for any subsequent children he sires to push Daemon further down the line of succession.”

Lia felt relief wash over her like a refreshing wave, heaving a gentle sigh. “It gladdens me to hear that, it is inevitably going to happen at some point, whoever it is–”

“It must be Laena,” Rhaenyra insisted, and Lia’s relief dissipated so quickly it may as well have never existed at all, “it would unite the last of the Valyrian houses in the realm and ensure the continuation of our bloodlines.”

Lia gave Rhaenyra a tight smile, hoping desperately that her face did not betray the secret she harboured for Alicent, nor the disgust that roiled within her belly at her friend’s explanation. The incestuous customs of House Targaryen had always seemed strange to her, and something she avoided paying any mind to as much as possible. “Of course,” she said quietly, “it should be Laena.”

“Where are you going?” Lia asked, her arms dropping limply to her sides as Rhaenyra pulled away from her and turned to walk inside.

“To receive the scolding I am owed,” she called over her shoulder with a smile.

‘Gods, please let it be Laena that Viserys chooses.’

The next time that Lia saw Otto, he was striding towards the small council chamber, with Alicent at his side. He did not spare Lia a second glance, his steps quick and purposeful as his daughter hurried to keep pace with him. Alicent never attended meetings of the small council, and as she passed Lia, their eyes met for the briefest of moments. Lia immediately knew from the haunted look in Alicent’s stare and the grim line her mouth was pressed into what was about to happen – Viserys had made his choice.

She felt sick to her stomach, and though she knew it was better to stay away, she was unable to resist the pull towards the closed doors of the chamber. Lia kept a safe distance, so as not to be told to go away by the white cloaks posted outside to keep watch and prevent intrusions. She paced nervously, certain she must be wearing down the stone of the floor as she walked back and forth, twisting the rings on her fingers as she silently prayed to any god who might listen that Viserys would choose the Velaryon girl, and not tear apart the only thing in this lonely place that brought her any joy.

After what felt like an eternity, Lia froze, her pulse racing as the doors to the chamber burst open and the hulking frame of Corlys Velaryon stormed down the corridor, his dark features twisted into an expression so angry it was almost a snarl. It was not the face of a man who had just been given the news that his daughter would be queen; it was the face of a man spurned. Lia’s heart sank like a stone in a pond. For the second time in her life, Lia affirmed that if indeed the Seven did exist, they were deaf to her pleas.

Rhaenyra hurried out shortly after Corlys, and it was the sight of tears streaming down her cheeks that finally spurred Lia into action as she moved towards her friend.

“I hate her, I hate her,” Rhaenyra choked out, not resisting as Lia wrapped her arms around her, pulling her close. They remained that way, awkwardly stumbling through the Keep, back towards Rhaenyra’s quarters, as Lia attempted to hush Rhaenyra and soothe her angry sobs with gentle words and calming sounds. The pair were so fixated on one another that neither stopped to notice if anyone else in the castle might take note of their commotion, and if they had then neither Lia or Rhaenyra would care.

Rhaenyra came to perch on the edge of her bed, eyes red and watery as she swiped at the tears upon her ruddy cheeks with jerky, angry movements.

“I am afraid I do not have a handkerchief,” Lia said softly, sitting beside her, their hips grazing slightly. It was a meek attempt at comfort, to lighten the mood, to take Rhaenyra’s mind and her own off of the fact that their happy little trio had been torn asunder. It was unsuccessful.

Rhaenyra’s fists bunched in the skirts of her golden gown, exhaling heavily to calm herself. Her voice trembled as she spoke. “My father is going to marry Alicent. Alicent! Of all people, how could she do this to me?”

Lia reached out, placing a hand over one of Rhaenyra’s hands as it continued to ball up the silk of her dress, and squeezed gently. “It was not her choice. Her father made her.”

She realised what she had said the moment Rhaenyra recoiled from her, blue eyes widening momentarily as she snatched her hand away, as though scalded by Lia’s touch. “You knew.”

It was an accusation, not a question, and Lia could not bear the weight of it. She turned away, placing her hands in her lap as she lowered her gaze. Shame was never an emotion that Lia had worn well, and in this very moment she had never felt uglier than beneath the scrutinising stare of one of her dearest companions.

“You knew and you did not tell me,” Rhaenyra’s voice had grown quiet, voice laced with spiteful anger, the beginnings of a dragon drawing back to spew forth fire.

“It would not have made a difference if I had,” Lia admitted sadly, a look of pleading in her eyes as she finally raised her head to face her.

Rhaenyra was too far gone in her fury to be reasoned with. Her eyes narrowed in contempt as she regarded the girl next to her with something akin to hatred. “Out,” she commanded.

Lia shrank back slightly, but made no further attempt to move, her heart twisting painfully in her chest as tears of her own blurred her vision. “‘Nyra, please–”

“Out! Get out!” Rhaenyra shouted angrily, jumping to her feet and shoving forcefully at Lia. Lia stumbled backwards, grasping fruitlessly at the princess as fat, hot tears rolled down her cheeks. “Get out!”

Lia managed to duck out through the door, quickly closing it behind her just as a hair brush clattered loudly against the wood. She made no attempt to compose herself, walking quickly through the winding corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast, with a hand clasped over her mouth to muffle the sobs that forced their way out of her throat, threatening to choke her. As Lia rounded a corner, she came face to face with Alicent, her own eyes tearful as she pulled to a stop, looking utterly miserable as she stood in front of Lia.

“I am sorry,” Alicent whispered, her fingers plucking absentmindedly at her fingernails as she clasped her hands in front of her.

Lia breathed a watery sigh, lifting her eyes to the ceiling as she smoothed a hand over her curls.

Not now. Not now. Not now.

“So am I,” Lia finally told her, meeting her stare, “but right now…right now I cannot bear to look at you.”

She moved around Alicent, walking away, not trusting herself to look back, selfishly focused upon her own upset. Lia knew that the moment she looked upon her friend’s sad, vulnerable face her resolve would crumble to ash and she would shove all she felt aside to comfort her. Right at this moment she needed to wallow in her own misery, not tend to anyone else’s.

Lia wallowed for weeks, existing within the Keep as a mere spectre, mourning the loss of her friends. She knew that she should reach out to Alicent, that she must be feeling every bit as scared and sad as she was, if not more – after all, she was having to marry a man she had not asked for. But she could not bring herself to take the first step and bridge the chasm between them, the idea of doing so felt like a betrayal to Rhaenyra. She had not spoken to Rhaenyra since she had demanded that Lia leave her room, and Lia doubted that appearing to have taken Alicent’s side would shift them closer to reconciliation. She felt stuck, trapped in her own misery, and she knew that Otto Hightower was to blame – the man who had pushed his only daughter towards the king, in the pursuit of his own ambition. She avoided him as much as she could, speaking to him as little she could get away with, not trusting herself not to erupt at him just as Rhaenyra had done to her. The confusing rush of heat she felt whenever in his presence had not gone away, but it had been dwarfed by bitter resentment.

The morning of Alicent and Viserys’ wedding, Lia caught sight of Alicent as she walked past her chambers. The doors had been left open, to allow for the scurry of maidservants all coming and going as they attended to her, readying her for the ceremony.

Alicent stood elevated upon a wooden step stool, in front of a full length looking glass, draped in a backless gown of ivory lace. Her auburn curls were piled high upon her head, adorned with a high set tiara inlaid with iridescent pearls and sparkling diamonds. She looked beautiful, but it was not this that struck a chord with Lia, it was how tiny, vulnerable and alone she appeared. She still looked every bit the little girl playing at dress up, just as she had in her mother’s clothes when her courtship with the king began. But this time Lia was not left fighting the urge not to mock her, this time she wanted to offer comfort to her friend, because she looked absolutely terrified.

Lia stepped into the room, silently unapologetic as she was met by the frustrated huffs of the maidservants she pushed past in order to get to her friend. She came to stand beside her, meeting Alicent’s gaze in the reflective surface. Alicent remained upon her step stool as a stout woman knelt before her, placing hasty stitches into the hem of her dress, but she reached out an arm, draping it around Lia’s shoulders and pulled her against her waist. Lia clung tightly to her, as though grasping a lifeline after weeks of being set adrift.

“Do you hate me?” Alicent asked quietly as she continued to look at Lia in the mirror.

“You imbecile,” Lia breathed, hugging her tighter. ‘I love the bones of you.’

The ceremony itself was a tense affair. Despite the fact that the grand sept was filled to capacity with well wishers for the impending nuptials, Lia’s gaze was honed in upon Rhaenyra, who sat on the opposite side of the aisle to her. Lia could practically feel the ire radiating off of her. The princess kept her gaze fixed ahead, eyes filled with malice as she watched her father drape his cloak around Alicent’s shoulders. Her lips were drawn into a petulant pout as she kept her arms crossed around her middle.

“You ought to be watching the wedding, not the princess,” Otto leaned in to whisper to her from where sat beside her.

Lia scowled at the flush of pink that dusted across her cheekbones at the brush of his beard against the shell of her ear, and wordlessly turned to face the front. She would not grant him the privilege of her attention or her response.

She barely touched her food at the wedding feast, but the same could not be said of the wine. Seated between Otto and his son, Gwayne, at the head feasting table, Lia did not look at either of them, her attention focused solely upon the jug in front of her. She repeatedly lifted the pewter receptacle to fill her cup with Dornish red. The burn in her throat was a pleasant distraction to the misery that sat further down the table on either side of Viserys. She found the gradual lightheadedness helped her to care less about how subdued Alicent appeared, to pay no mind to Rhaenyra’s sullen face. Were it not for the jaunty tune being played by the musicians in the corner of the hall, the atmosphere could easily be mistaken for a funeral and not a wedding.

“Perhaps you might speak to Gwayne?” Otto urged gently as he leaned in to speak quietly to her. “He has traveled from Oldtown to be here today.”

“I have nothing to say to him,” she said, her tone dripping with petulant defiance, content to ignore the red headed young man beside her.

As she reached forward for the wine jug again, Otto gently grasped her wrist, staying her hand. “I think you have had enough,” he warned, the stern intonation one she was painfully familiar with.

“Allow me to respectfully disagree,” she slurred slightly, a lazy grin spreading across her face as she finally turned to look at Otto, “must you be so boring?”

“Up. Now,” Otto commanded, rising from his seat. Though he kept his voice low enough for only her to hear, the anger that blazed within her eyes as he stared expectantly down at her left no room for argument.

A stone settled in Lia’s stomach as she rose from her seat, unsteady on her feet as she followed him through a side door, into a quiet and empty passageway of the Keep.

He rounded on her as the door closed behind them, the anger in him now at a simmer instead of boiling over. “You are in your cups, and I think it best you retire for the evening, lest you embarrass yourself.”

“I am not yours to command,” Lia bit back, staring up at him defiantly, even as she swayed with the effects of the wine, her limbs feeling much too heavy to cope with the fuzziness that clouded her mind.

“Must you always be so disagreeable?” he demanded, nostrils flaring in irritation.

“Must you always ruin everything?!” she shouted back, hating the way her voice wobbled as a lump formed in her throat.

Otto furrowed his brow, eyes searching her face in confusion. “What exactly do you mean?”

Inhibitions lowered, Lia allowed the floodgates to open, hiccuping around sobs as she lunged towards Otto, slapping her hands weakly against the crushed forest green velvet of his doublet as she raged at him. “You have married Alicent to Viserys! You made her! You took away my friends! Alicent will be queen, but what of me? What of me? You have forgotten me!”

He caught her wrists, holding them tight against his chest, until the fight left her, and she slumped against chest, crying quietly. Only then did he release her, his arms coming to wrap around her, holding her gently against him. The smell of sandalwood surrounded her, soothing her, and she allowed her eyes to close as he gently stroked her hair.

“My darling girl, I could never forget you.”

His voice was the gentlest she had ever heard him sound and she pulled back slightly, her large tearful eyes meeting the soft understanding reflected in his as he looked down at her.

“I wanted to wait until the wedding was over to tell you, but it seems there is no point in delaying any longer,” he said, his hands coming to rest upon her shoulders.

“Tell me what?” Lia asked, feeling dread begin to coil within her belly.

“When Gwayne returns to Oldtown, you will go with him. The two of you are to be married.”

Otto broke the news with a prideful look upon his face, eyes glittering as he smiled down at her, as though bestowing a great gift upon her.

Lia felt the bottom fall away from her world, her heart and stomach dripping endlessly with it.

‘I do not want this. I do not want this.’

She felt as though she could not breathe, the urge to tear at her bodice to ease the restriction of her ribs became almost overwhelming. Pulling out of Otto’s grasp, Lia turned and ran, wanting to put as much distance between herself and the unwelcome news he had just delivered as possible.

For the third time in her life, Lia found herself beseeching to gods she did not believe in.

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#otto hightower x ofc #otto hightower x oc #otto hightower #otto hightower fanfiction #otto hightower fan fiction #otto hightower fan fic #otto hightower fanfic #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fan fiction #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fan fic

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nightbutterfly09 · 3 days ago

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Baby Kaede

If you haven’t read my wattpad story please go ahead as this will be an origin story of a character. The universes align. Kaede is entirely my oc as well as the Itoshi parent’s names are entirely my fantasy. Please check it out. Btw the timezone I wrote at the end only concerns the wattpad story. My wattpad — But my profile is on the post below this as well.

Baby Kaede

Your body was tired. You just gave birth to your baby girl Kaede. Your first child. Sae held her in his arms carefully with tears in his eyes. “And they say the stoic man doesn't cry” your voice cracked as you chuckled weakly.

Your body was sore and after pushing so much even your muscles grew non existent. “Oh don't joke around with that stuff.”

Your hands hold onto his finger and try pulling him closer. “She is beautiful.” The baby’s quiet breaths were the loudest to you two in that room.

It was 3AM, both adults admired the newborn’s features as the moon shone through the glass nearby. “Well.. you are a father now, Sae” “I am, yeah… thank you” he mumbled softly and kissed your forehead.

After a few moments with just the three of you the baby’s cries erupted and threw the silence of the night into disarray.

Turned out she was just hungry so after feeding her for the first time you saw her content face. The little girl had no idea how happy she made you. You glanced at Sae from the corner of your eyes and noticed his lips curl upwards into a light smile. His eyes softened as his gaze focused on the newborn in your arms.

“Do you want to call in your family?” Suddenly you ask, making him turn to you and look into your eyes. “Already?” A small but gentle frown appeared on his face. “Well, why not? She is asleep now anyway” His strong arms cooped up the small body into his arms and walked to the door to invite everyone in.

“Oh my gosh, she is so adorable!” His mother wiped her teary eyes. “This reminds me of my first time son” his father chuckled at him and walked closer to touch the baby’s face

“I wouldn't have thought I’d hold a baby in my arms like this..my daughter” His usually expressionless face shined in multiple different expressions today. There were tears on his cheeks rolling down, he laughed and chuckled. His eyes shone in the darkness.

One could say, he was the happiest man alive.

“What's her name?” Rin gulped and asked looking at you and his big brother. “Kaede.” You say in unison with the crimson haired man. “Want to hold her?” Rin’s eyes widened a little at the older Itoshi’s offer.

He has never ever in his lifetime held a baby. And to think it would be his brother’s… he never would've imagined a universe like so. Sae placed the little girl into his embrace securely.

Rin’s eyes filled with tears that he really tried not to surface but emotions got the best of him. ‘I wonder who that reminds me of’ you thought to yourself. “Kaede huh…”

“So uncle, what do you think?” You grinned teasing him a little. Everyone around you let out a quiet chuckle at the newfound title. “Uncle.. god I sound old.” “Tell me about it” his brother rolled his eyes at him.

“Hm, welcome boys” Daich-sani (The sibling’s father) laughed and pat Sae and Rin on their backs. “Oh and how are you my dear?” Momoko-san (Mrs. Itoshi) sat on your bed.

“A little tired… and I'm sore but happy.." Your earnest smile showed how happy you were to be a mother. You gave birth to a beautiful baby girl who will bear the name Itoshi Kaede for the rest of her life.

You feel like you already understand what people mean when they say ‘You’ll always be my little girl’.

You yawned as Sae sat down on his cushion next to you and grabbed both of your hands. His family was busy with the new family member. “I am proud of you, mi Vida” he leaned down and placed a passionate but gentle kiss on your lips.

You blinked a few times trying to stay awake but he only shook his head with a lenient smile. “Rest easy now, I’ll handle the rest. Except feeding, you do have to do that” he looked at you with a kind and coy smile.

At that moment not only were you immensely glad that he was your husband but you thanked the universe for everything that has ever happened to you.

Your eyes finally closed and slowly pulled your husband’s hand closer as you drifted to sleep.

3 years ago. On October 19th. The day your lives changed forever.

#read the wattpad story to better understand #first time father #first time uncle #bllk x you #blue lock #bllk itoshi sae #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock fanfiction #fanfic #itoshi sae #sae itoshi x reader #rin itoshi

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aventurineswife · 1 day ago

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Here's a request, reader gets reminded of their mother either by looks or just general characteristics. Their mother is still alive, reader is just travelling across space and misses her. Mainly with Gallagher and Welt Yang, but also anyone else you want! All just platonic and familial bonds!

The Distance Between Here and Home

Tags: Gallagher x Reader, Welt x Reader, Platonic Bonds, Found Family, Nostalgic, Familial Comfort, Emotional Conversations, Quiet Moments.

Warnings: Melancholy Themes, Discussions of Missing Family, Emotional Vulnerability.

The bar was dimly lit that evening, its quiet hum and faint scent of aged wood welcoming you after a day that felt endless. The familiar clink of bottles and the faint scratch of leather as Gallagher leaned on the counter greeted you. He was a monument of calm in a chaotic world, his meticulous movements as he mixed drinks almost hypnotic.

You sank into the barstool, and he glanced up. His eyes, though perpetually shrouded in quiet melancholy, softened when they met yours. “Long day?” he asked in that measured tone of his, sliding a glass of water your way.

You nodded, sighing. “Yeah. But it’s not just that.”

Gallagher didn’t press, his hands deftly working on a new concoction. There was comfort in his silence, a kind of unspoken understanding. You stared at the glowing purple/pink lines peeking from under his sleeve, your mind wandering to memories of your mother. She had always been the steady hand in your life, the person who could turn chaos into calm with nothing but her presence. Gallagher reminded you of her in ways you hadn’t expected—not just in his quiet strength, but in the way he cared without making it obvious.

“She used to do this,” you murmured.

Gallagher paused, his scar catching the light as he looked at you. “Do what?”

“Make drinks,” you explained, smiling faintly. “Not like this, of course. Just simple things—tea, cocoa, sometimes something stronger for my dad. She’d hum while she worked. It always made me feel... grounded.”

Gallagher nodded slowly, his expression unreadable but his hands steady as he slid a glass toward you. The drink was a soft amber, its aroma warm and inviting. “Sweet Dream Special,” he said simply. “Might not be tea, but it’s something.”

You took a sip, and for a moment, you could almost hear your mother’s humming. The warmth spread through you, both from the drink and the thoughtfulness behind it. “Thank you,” you said softly.

Gallagher inclined his head, his gaze shifting back to the bar. “It’s nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing. It was a reminder that even in the vastness of space, with its endless stars and cold voids, there were still places—and people—that could feel like home.

The Express was quiet tonight, its usual hum of activity reduced to the occasional whisper of footsteps and the faint rustle of paper. You found Welt in the library, sitting by the window with a book in one hand and his cane resting against his knee. He glanced up when you entered, a small smile breaking his otherwise solemn face. “Trouble sleeping?”

You shrugged, settling into the chair across from him. “Not really. Just... thinking.”

He nodded knowingly and marked his place in the book before closing it. “Thinking can be dangerous at this hour,” he said with a wry smile, his glasses catching the soft light.

You laughed, though it was faint. “Yeah, it can be. I was thinking about my mom.”

That caught his attention. His expression softened, and he leaned back, resting his hands on the cane. “You miss her.”

“I do,” you admitted, staring out the window at the stars streaking past. “She always knew what to say. Even when I was being difficult or when things got hard. She had this way of making me feel like everything would be okay. I guess being out here makes me realize how much I took that for granted.”

Welt’s gaze turned thoughtful. “Mothers have a way of shaping us, whether we realize it or not. They carry a strength we often don’t see until we’re far from home.”

You nodded, the lump in your throat easing slightly. “You remind me of her sometimes.”

His brow furrowed slightly in surprise. “Me?”

“Yeah,” you said, smiling faintly. “Not in how you look, obviously. But in how you carry yourself. You’re steady. Wise. You don’t say much, but when you do, it’s... grounding. It feels like you’ve seen everything and still know there’s hope.”

Welt’s lips quirked into a small, almost bashful smile. “That’s... kind of you to say. Though I imagine your mother would be far more deserving of such praise.”

“She is,” you said, your voice firm with pride. “But it’s nice to have someone here who reminds me of her. Makes the distance feel a little smaller.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the quiet hum of the Express filling the space. Then Welt leaned forward, his voice low and earnest. “Cherish those memories, and don’t let the distance keep you from them. Write to her. Share your journey. She’ll want to know you’re thinking of her.”

You smiled, feeling the weight in your chest lighten just a little. “I will. Thanks, Mr. Yang.”

He inclined his head, his gaze returning to the book in his lap. “Anytime.”

And in the quiet of the Express, with the stars as your witness, you felt a little closer to home.

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00valentina-writes00 · 8 hours ago

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Abby with a mommy kink???? Like she calls reader mommy,lovesss to suck on your nippless Abby, 🤭🤭

✞⛧ Abby with a mommy kink ✞⛧

(headcanons and a smut to go with it)

✞⛧ Abby’s mommy kink didn’t start as a conscious thing—it kinda slipped out one night when you were taking care of her, rubbing the knots out of her shoulders after a long day. She mumbled it without thinking, and the moment it left her lips, her whole body tensed like she’d been caught doing something illegal.

✞⛧ She’s got major control issues, always has. She grew up in a military-style environment under the Fireflies, where discipline and self-sufficiency were drilled into her. Depending on someone, letting go, being taken care of? That’s not something she allows herself often. So the fact that it feels good when you take charge? It messes with her head in the best way.

✞⛧ At first, she resists it. Avoids saying it again, even if it’s all she can think about when you cup her jaw and make her look at you. She’s too proud, too stubborn, but god, the second you notice and push her just right? She’s done for.

✞⛧ It’s not just sexual (though it absolutely is that too). It’s about trust. Abby doesn’t trust easily—she’s been betrayed, she’s had people taken from her, she’s had to be the strong one for so long. Calling you mommy is an act of surrender, of admitting she doesn’t always want to be the one in control. That sometimes, she just wants to be told she’s good, to rest her head in your lap while you scratch her scalp and tell her you’ll take care of her.

✞⛧ You start to notice the way she craves direction in everyday life, too. She’s decisive when it comes to survival, to battle tactics, to keeping people safe—but when it’s about herself? What to eat? When to rest? She hesitates. It’s like she was never taught to put herself first. So when you tell her, “Sit, baby. Let me take care of you,” and she melts immediately, you realize just how much she needs it.

✞⛧ The duality of Abby Anderson—towering, muscled, and terrifying to most people, but soft for you in a way that would ruin her reputation if anyone else knew. She can throw a grown man across the room, but the second you murmur, “Good girl,” in her ear? Her knees buckle.

✞⛧ Her mommy issues run deep. She was raised by her father, and after losing him, she latched onto other authority figures—first the Fireflies, then the WLF. But none of them cared for her the way a mother would. So when you do, when you hold her and praise her and tell her she’s doing so well, it scratches an itch in her brain she didn’t even know she had.

✞⛧ She thrives under structure. She’s disciplined, she likes routines, she’s used to strict rules—so when you set boundaries, tell her no when she’s overworking herself, make her listen? She doesn’t just want that, she needs it.

✞⛧ If she ever acts up, it’s because she wants you to put her back in her place. Not that she’d ever admit it. But the bratty remarks, the testing your patience, the way she pushes—it’s all just her way of begging you to correct her. And when you finally do? When you grab her by the jaw, make her look at you, remind her who’s in charge? She’s gone.

✞⛧ And the best part? She doesn’t have to pretend with you. With everyone else, she’s Abby Anderson, the soldier, the protector, the one who never lets anyone see weakness. But with you? She’s just your girl. Your good girl. And fuck, does she love that.

✞⛧ Abby’s puppy dog eyes are a weapon she’s learned to wield subtly—they’re not just for when she wants attention, but for when she needs something more emotional. When she locks eyes with you, there’s a vulnerability in her gaze that belies her tough, soldier persona. It’s almost like she’s asking permission to soften, to be cared for, to fall apart. The way she looks up at you from beneath those lashes, breath shaky, as if she’s trying to hide just how much she needs your affection, melts something in you every time.

✞⛧ When Abby calls you mommy in bed, it’s like a trigger. At first, it’s a quiet thing, almost hesitant, but over time, it becomes a way for her to express just how much she trusts you with her submissive side. The word leaves her lips in a hushed moan, a bit breathless, as she waits for your reaction. She doesn’t just say it for pleasure—she says it because it grounds her, makes her feel safe in the vulnerability of the moment. It’s almost like she’s reminding herself that with you, she can let go of all the responsibility, all the weight she carries.

✞⛧ When Abby has her head resting against your chest, it’s like she’s melting into you. The sturdy, solid Abby who can fight off anyone becomes this tender, soft woman who craves your warmth and protection. She breathes deeply, listening to your heartbeat, like she’s trying to memorize the rhythm of your life. Her hands instinctively find their way to your body, exploring your chest with the same tenderness she doesn’t often show the world. Sometimes, her face gets buried into you, her body language screaming that she wants nothing more than to be wrapped up in your arms and cared for in the most simple, quiet way.

✞⛧ Abby’s the type to get obsessed with sucking on your nipples when she’s feeling needy. It’s not just for pleasure—it’s a way for her to feel close, to ground herself in something so intimate and nurturing. When she pulls you close, one hand gripping the side of your body, the other trailing over your skin to your chest, there’s a desperation to it. The way she wraps her lips around you, her eyes fluttering shut as she sucks gently, is an act of complete surrender. She’s not just seeking your touch; she’s asking for validation, for you to let her know she’s worthy of this attention, this affection.

✞⛧ Abby can be downright whiny when she’s craving your attention, and it’s almost like she forgets how to ask for things politely. She’ll get frustrated, annoyed, or even pouty when she doesn’t get her way, especially when she’s feeling overwhelmed and needs you to remind her that it’s okay to let go. You’ll catch her whining, “C’mon, Mommy, please,” in the softest voice, the desperation clear in her tone, as she seeks comfort or reassurance. She can’t help it—when she feels like she’s losing control, she wants you to pull her back in, to make her feel wanted and safe.

✞⛧ When you use your strap on her, it’s intimate—the act itself more than just physical. There’s a rawness in her submission, her hands gripping the sheets or your body as you move with a pace that she needs—sometimes slow, sometimes harder, but always controlled, always deliberate. The moment she feels you push inside her, it triggers something deep in her chest—this quiet, almost desperate need for connection. She might groan softly or whisper “Mommy” under her breath, the word coated in desire, longing, and trust. She wants to feel owned in that moment, but also cared for, protected as she allows you to fill her up.

Smut smut smut smut smut:

The air inside the tent is thick with the scent of sweat and desire, the sound of Abby’s ragged breaths filling the space as she arches her back against the bedroll. Her strong, muscular frame trembles beneath you, her sun-kissed skin slick with the heat of your bodies pressed together. You can feel the tension in her broad shoulders, the way her powerful thighs clench around your hips as you hover above her, the strap-on harness snug against your own arousal. Her blue eyes lock onto yours, a mix of hunger and vulnerability shimmering in their depths, and for a moment, the world outside—the post-apocalyptic ruin, the danger, the loss—melts away. All that matters is her.

“Mommy,” she whispers, her voice low and raspy, her lips parting as she looks up at you with a pleading intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. Her calloused hands reach up, fingers gripping the straps of your tank top, and you feel the urgency in her touch as she pulls you closer. “Please… I need you.”

You don’t hesitate. You lean down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss, feeling the heat of her mouth against yours. Her tongue brushes against your lower lip, teasing, testing, and you open for her, letting her deepen the kiss as your hands roam over her body. You trace the scars on her arms, the raised lines that tell the story of her survival, and you marvel at the strength in her frame, the way her muscles flex beneath your fingertips. She’s so powerful, so capable, and yet here she is, surrendering to you completely.

Her hands move to the hem of your tank top, tugging it up and over your head, and you feel the cool air of the tent against your flushed skin. Her eyes darken as they roam over your chest, her breath hitching as she takes in the sight of your breasts, the hard peaks of your nipples begging for her attention. She doesn’t keep you waiting. Her calloused hands are surprisingly gentle as they cup your breasts, her thumbs brushing over your nipples, and you gasp at the sensation, the electric jolt it sends through your body.

“Mommy,” she murmurs again, her voice dripping with need, and then her mouth is on you, her lips closing around one nipple as she sucks greedily. You moan, your hips bucking involuntarily against the strap-on still nestled against her, and she lets out a muffled whimper around your breast, her tongue swirling over the sensitive bud. Her other hand moves to your second nipple, pinching and rolling it between her fingers, and you can’t help but cry out, the dual sensations overwhelming you. She’s devouring you, sucking and teasing until you’re trembling above her, your thighs slick with your own arousal.

“Abby,” you gasp, your voice trembling as you reach down to position the strap-on against her entrance. She’s already so wet, her folds glistening in the dim light of the tent, and you can feel her trembling with anticipation as you press the tip against her. She whimpers into your breast, her hips lifting off the bedroll as she tries to take more of you, and you can’t hold back any longer. With a slow, deliberate thrust, you slide into her, the sensation of her tight warmth around the silicone making your head spin.

“Fuck,” she moans, her lips leaving your breast as she throws her head back, her neck exposed as she gasps for air. Her hands grip the bedroll, her knuckles whitening as you start to move, rocking your hips against her in a steady rhythm. You can feel every inch of her around you, the way her walls clench and flutter as you thrust into her, and it’s enough to make you dizzy. She’s so tight, so perfect, and you can’t stop the primal groan that escapes your lips as you pick up the pace.

Her hips meet yours with every thrust, her body moving in sync with yours, and you can feel the heat building between you, the tension coiling tighter and tighter. Her hands move to your hips, her fingers digging into your skin as she pulls you closer, urging you deeper, and you obey, driving into her with a force that makes her cry out. Her back arches off the bedroll, her chest pressing against your stomach as her lips find your nipple again, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin as she moans around you.

“Mommy, please,” she gasps, her voice breaking as she looks up at you, her eyes wide with desperation. “I’m so close… I need…”

You know what she needs. You adjust your angle slightly, your hips grinding against hers as you thrust into her, hitting that spot inside her that makes her scream. Her body convulses beneath you, her walls tightening around you as she comes, her lips still latched onto your breast as she sucks and moans like she’s trying to milk every last drop of pleasure from you. You keep thrusting, drawing out her orgasm until she’s trembling, her hands gripping your hips so tightly it’s almost painful.

Finally, she collapses back onto the bedroll, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. Her hands fall to her sides, her body limp and sated, and you can’t help but smile at the sight of her, so completely undone by you. She looks up at you, her blue eyes soft and hazy with pleasure, and she reaches up to brush a strand of hair from your face.

“Mommy,” she whispers, her voice barely audible, and then her eyes flutter shut, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm. You lean down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, and for a moment, the world feels right. She’s safe. She’s yours. And nothing else matters.

#abby x fem!reader #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x you #abby x reader #abby imagines #abby headcanons #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #the last of us x reader #the last of us smut #the last of us drabbles #the last of us headcanons #the last of us imagine #the last of us fic #the last of us

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hynnx22 · 2 days ago

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˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚ Blood and Devotion ⁺˳✧༚

A/n:none

Wearing:death

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･* ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:* *･ﾟ･*

The battlefield was silent, save for the crackling of flames and the distant echoes of the dying. Alucard Tepes knelt in the ruins of what was once a grand hall, his lover—his heart—bleeding out in his arms. Y/N’s breaths were shallow, her skin growing cold beneath his trembling fingers. He cradled her close, his golden eyes filled with unshed tears, his fangs clenched as he fought the primal urge to destroy everything around him.

“I’m sorry…” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut deeper than any blade.

“No,” Alucard shook his head violently, his long blond hair falling over them like a curtain, shielding her from the cruel world. “Don’t you dare apologize. This—this is my fault.” His voice cracked, the weight of guilt crushing him. He had sworn to protect her, to keep her safe. And yet, here she was—dying because of him.

She had thrown herself in the path of an assassin’s blade meant for him. She had sacrificed herself without hesitation, and now he was left holding her broken body, powerless to save her.

A part of him screamed for vengeance. His father, Dracula, would have burned the world to the ground for this. He would have massacred entire kingdoms in the name of love, drowning the earth in blood and grief.

But Alucard had sworn to be better than his father.

He had spent his life denying the monster within him, choosing restraint over rage, mercy over madness. But as he held her, as he felt her heartbeat weaken against his chest, the darkness inside him stirred, whispering of slaughter, of destruction, of revenge.

“I swore to you,” he choked, pressing his forehead against hers. “I swore I would die for you, kill for you, be by your side until the end.” His voice wavered. “But I—I can’t even keep you alive.”

Her blood stained his hands, a cruel reminder of his failure.

Tears slid down his face, something he had not allowed himself for a while. He had watched his mother die, condemned as a witch. He had lost his father to madness and vengeance. And now, the only light in his life was slipping away.

Y/N’s weak hand touched his face, smearing his cheek with blood. “You… already saved me,” she whispered. “Not from death… but from being alone.”

Her words shattered him.

The world blurred around him as she took her last, fragile breath. Her body went still, the warmth fading from her skin.

Silence.

Alucard’s entire being screamed in agony, but no sound escaped his lips. His grip on her tightened, as if holding her closer could bring her back. But she was gone.

And now, there was nothing left but vengeance.

His father had sought revenge for the death of his beloved. And though Alucard had fought to be different—to be better—in that moment, he understood.

He would not become Dracula.

But he would not be merciful either.

With a final, lingering kiss to her forehead, Alucard gently laid her down, his golden eyes dark with resolve. He rose to his feet, his once noble heart now hollow, and turned toward the night.

The ones who took her from him would suffer.

He would drown the world in blood—not for power, not for pleasure… but for her….

THE END

#alucard x reader #castlevania alucard x reader #alucard tepes

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inubaki · 2 days ago

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The Sea Queen

Stages of grief

—-

an amazing commission by @libby-for-life!! I’m both guilty for always running to her for works, but she just breaths such life into my silly ideas. Please check her out if you’d like one. ———

Adam stood by the cave window, his heart heavy as he gazed at his children, a blend of emotions swirling within him. His lips formed a tight smile that failed to reach his eyes, mirroring the conflicting thoughts crowding his mind. Before him were his adorable offspring, each one a miniature Kraken, their skin glistening with vibrant hues of teal and deep purple, and their tentacles elegantly drifting through the water as they played. They had inherited their father Lucifer’s enchanting features, yet all Adam could feel was a surge of unease.

These were his children, undeniably a part of him, and the reality of their existence weighed heavily on his conscience. He couldn't escape the guilt gnawing at him—why didn't he love them more, cherish them as any mother should? Instead, their very presence brought forth waves of anger that crashed against his heart, a visceral response not just to their existence but also to the man who had helped create them.

Lucifer loomed in the shadows of his thoughts, a tempest of unresolved emotions. Adam's chest tightened as he wrestled with his feelings toward his partner, the darkness that seemed to seep into their lives, and how it colored his interactions with the children. They were innocent, yet every gurgle of laughter and swish of a tentacle reminded him of the bond he shared with Lucifer—one that he was struggling to accept. In that moment, Adam felt trapped between love and resentment, searching for a way to embrace what was undeniably his, even if he felt unworthy.

"Momma! Look what I can do!" Cain exclaimed, his sharp-toothed smile illuminating his face with a mixture of mischief and pride. Adam leaned back by the cave wall, hair tousled by the gentle water, as he watched his son perform daring flips in the shimmering blue sea, the sunlight dancing off the surface like shards of glass. Cain's tentacles swirled around him, creating playful whirlpools that disrupted the mirror-like expanse of the ocean.

Adam struggled to suppress his concerns, forcing a cheerful smile as he called, "That's great, baby!" The words came out sweeter than honey, but inside, he was wrestling with a storm of thoughts. Cain beamed with joy, oblivious to the trepidation swirling in his mother's mind; to him, this moment of freedom was everything.

Every fleeting glance and lingering moment of eye contact brought Adam back to the piercing gaze of Lucifer, that unsettling familiarity sending shivers down his spine. It was a reminder of a darkness he couldn't shake, one that made him want to retreat from the very presence of his own children. Each time that urge rose within him, guilt would wash over him like a cold wave. He loved his children—there was no doubt about that. Their laughter filled the cave, their innocence a light amid his turmoil. Yet, buried deep within, a shadow loomed; a part of him harbored the impossible wish that they had never been born. If they hadn't come into his life, everything would be simpler, the weight of motherhood a burden he wouldn't have to bear. The guilt throbbed in his chest, mingling with a longing for peace over the chaos that seemed to follow him.

"Momma? You okay?" A small voice broke the silence, and Adam glanced down to find his second-born son, Abel, gazing up at him with wide, innocent eyes. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the water, casting gentle shadows across the lush of his face where Abel stood. Despite his tender age, Abel possessed an uncanny ability to sense when something was off and when the world felt heavy with unspoken burdens.

As their eyes met, Adam couldn’t shake the eerie familiarity; in Abel’s bright, curious gaze, he saw the striking red eyes of Lucifer and Adam felt an ache in his chest, a swirl of emotions he struggled to articulate and— "I'm okay, baby. Go on and play," he said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Abel tilted his head, skepticism etched across his innocent face, though he ultimately chose to obey his mother’s gentle nudge. With a reluctant step back, he swam off toward his siblings, the sound of his laughter mingling with the water—a temporary balm for Adam's troubled heart.

He let out a weary sigh, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him, before he turned his attention to preparing lunch. Gathering the remainder of the fish he had skillfully caught that morning, he inspected each fillet with meticulous care, ensuring that no stray bones were left behind — a precaution he took so his children could enjoy their meal without worry.

As he worked, he cast a glance at his lively Kraken offspring, who splashed and giggled nearby. How many did he have now? Six? No, maybe eight? Adam found it increasingly challenging to keep track of their myriad colors and personalities as they darted around, full of energy. He could already hear Lucifer, ever the enthusiastic one, chattering about wanting to add to more—

But he quickly shook his head, pushing that generous thought aside. Not now, he reminded himself — he had lunch to finish. He focused on the task at hand, hoping to create a meal that would nourish both body and spirit, encapsulating the love he felt for his unique brood.

As he carefully set down the last shimmering fish, Abel burst into the sea cave, panic etched across his face, and his tentacles thrashing wildly in his distress. "Abel? Baby? What's wrong?" Adam asked, his voice filled with concern. Abel took a deep, shaky breath, his gills flaring in agitation. "Cain is gone!"

Adam felt his heart stop for a moment, a cold rush of dread washing over him. Gone? What did he mean by gone?! Hadn't they all been playing together just moments ago, their laughter echoing through the watery halls of their home? He took a quick, frantic scan of his children, and Abel was right—Cain was nowhere to be seen.

"Stay here with your siblings!" Adam ordered firmly, urgency tightening his tone as he propelled himself out of their cozy sea cave, the familiar moss-covered stones slipping behind him. His mind raced as he swam through the vibrant luminescent garden outside, eyes darting around in search of his lost son. Where could he have gone?

“Cain?! Where are you?!” Adam screamed, his voice trembling with panic and desperation. The cold, dark waters of the deep sea surrounded him, each current crashing against him like a reminder of his worst fears. “Please answer me, Momma’s calling!” His heart raced as he frantically swam, straining his eyes to pierce through the murky depths in search of his beloved Kraken child.

“CAIN!” he cried out, the sound echoing in the vast expanse of the ocean. Memories flooded his mind—how carefree Cain had once been, gliding through the water, his laughter like music in the salty air. “PLEASE, JUST ANSWER ME!” The weight of regret pressed down on Adam like the crushing water around him. Why hadn’t he watched more closely? Why hadn’t he wrapped his arms around Cain more often, ensuring he felt safe and loved?

‘You selfish creature. You let Cain wander. And you call yourself a mother?’ A haunting voice whispered in his mind, filling him with guilt and anguish as he continued his desperate search. “CAIN!” he shouted again, his voice cracking, tears mingling with the saltwater as he fought to stay afloat in a sea of despair.

"MOMMA!" A familiar voice pierced through the murky depths, and Adam's head snapped towards the sound faster than he thought possible. His heart raced as he recognized that voice—Cain! Panic fueled his urgency as he propelled himself through the dark water, desperation guiding his every movement.

"CAIN!" he shouted, his voice echoing in the watery expanse as he followed his child's distress. The ocean around him felt cold and unforgiving, but nothing could deter his determination.

Then, his heart sank as he spotted the horrific scene unfolding before him. Cain was ensnared in a thick, tangled net, struggling helplessly against its grips. The net was tightening around him, gradually being reeled in toward a looming ship that cast a shadow over them like an ominous predator. Cain's loud cries for help were muffled by the water, but Adam could feel their weight, a desperate plea that shattered his composure.

His body froze for a moment, the terror of the situation clouding his mind. It was only when he saw his child’s small limbs—tentacles writhing in a frantic attempt to escape—that he snapped out of his trance.

"CAIN! MOMMA'S COMING!" he shouted, his voice filled with fierce determination as he surged upward, propelled by the primal instinct to rescue his child from the grasp of the unknown.

"MOMMA! MOMMA!" Cain cried, his small hand reaching out through the tangled fibers of the net that ensnared him, eyes wide with a mix of fear and relief as he caught sight of Adam. The moment Adam saw him, a rush of determination surged through him. He swam forward, his heart pounding, and began tearing at the net with frantic urgency, desperate to free his child before the dark silhouette of the looming ship swallowed him whole.

"Momma, I'm scared..." Cain whispered, his voice trembling as he peered through the gaps in the net, and Adam's heart shattered at the sound of his son’s quaking voice. The sight of Cain’s small, vulnerable figure encased in the coarse mesh twisted painfully in Adam's chest, igniting a fierce resolve to rescue him from this nightmare.

These nets...they were designed to capture Krakens...made to shred through skin...

"Don't worry, baby. Momma’s got you." Adam said as he began to tear at the net, ignoring how it tore through his sensitive skin as worked on freeing Cain. He didn't have a lot of time. If these sailors were like anything he had ever seen, they wouldn't see Cain and think of a child. They would see a monster and they would kill him. Adam knew what they were like. He knew because Adam had done the same thing.

With a brutal cry, Adam ripped open the nest, his mangled hands grabbing onto Cain as he rushed away from the ship. He didn't want to be around when the owner of the ship saw that their net was now empty. Adam didn't stop swimming away until they were in the deepest part of the ocean. Cain just hugged his Momma closer, trying to get himself to stop crying.

"Baby...sh...see? You're going to be okay." Adam said as he looked over Cain. He was covered in small cuts from his tanglement in the net and Adam let out a choked sob once he saw his tentacles, knotted and writhing in pain. Adam immediately got to work on gently untangling his tentacles, Cain occasionally sniffling when their was a particularly stubborn knot.

He gently cradled Cain in his arms, swimming with the utmost care toward their secluded underwater cave, where shimmering fish darted about in the gentle currents. As they glided through the water, Adam noticed dim swirls of light filtering through the surface, casting a warm glow around them. Back at the cave, his siblings had already devoured the delicious fish Adam had prepared earlier, but they thoughtfully left a small portion for Cain, a gesture that warmed Adam's heart more than he could express.

Once safely inside the cave, Adam placed Cain on a soft bed of seaweed and coral, arranged just for him, and sighed deeply as he looked down at his tiny baby. Cain's big red eyes sparkled with a mix of sleepiness and affection, gazing up at his mother. "I knew you'd come for me..." he whispered, his voice barely above a breath.

Caught off guard, Adam halted for a moment, his heart catching in his throat. "What?" he replied, his voice filled with surprise.

"Because you love me..." Cain murmured, his eyelids fluttering as if he were drifting into sleep. At that moment, Adam felt a tidal wave of emotion wash over him. Love? He had struggled to show his children the depth of his feelings, but now, as he looked at his dear son, he realized he wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

"That's right, Cain." Adam whispered softly, leaning down to press a tender kiss against his cheek, feeling the warmth of his little body against him. "Momma loves you." The words broke free from his heart, carrying with them a promise to cherish and protect his son always. "Momma always will.”

XxX

Lucifer sighed deeply as he glided through the shimmering waters of his underwater realm, the vibrant luminescent corals guiding his path to the cave he called home. The bioluminescent flora pulsed gently with hues of blue and green, casting an ethereal glow that danced across his sleek body. He had been tirelessly spreading the word of the Sea's new Queen, working diligently to ensure hid reign was acknowledged. However, some stubborn creatures remained resistant, and he felt the familiar weight of his responsibilities; a harsh reminder was sometimes necessary to reaffirm why he held the title of King of the Deep.

With each powerful stroke of his massive tentacles, he propelled himself forward, their movements both graceful and formidable. His keen eyes scanned the surroundings, instinctively searching for his wife and children. The thought of them brought him solace and warmth, a comfort that eased the burden of his royal duties. His babies, their laughter and playful curiosity always filled the cave with joy, transforming it into a sanctuary amidst the chaos of the ocean.

“Adam?” Lucifer called out, his voice echoing softly in the underwater cavern. “Dear? I'm home.” Silence enveloped him, thick and unsettling. For a fleeting moment, a wave of panic washed over Lucifer, and he feared that they might have left him. However, he quickly calmed himself as he glided into the children’s cave bedroom.

The scene before him was a heartwarming sight. Nestled in a cozy nest of shimmering coral and lush, verdant seaweed, Adam lay sleeping peacefully, surrounded by their children. Each little one was entwined in soft blankets woven from delicate strands of kelp, their gentle breaths creating tiny bubbles that floated to the surface. A warm glow emanated from bioluminescent corals lining the walls, casting a magical light over the sleeping family. Lucifer couldn’t suppress a smile at this serene tableau as he gracefully swam closer, his heart swelling with love and contentment at the sight of them all safe and sound.

He gently glided through the cool, dark water, his sleek body effortlessly navigating toward the bed of soft seaweed nestled in the corner of the cave. As he settled in, the moonlight filtered through the cave's entrance, casting a serene glow around him. His fangs glinted softly, a reminder of his fierce nature, yet all that was evident now was the tenderness he embodied as he pulled Adam closer, cradling him against his warm, scaled chest while he slept.

Adam, his beautiful wife, was truly a sight to behold, his delicate features illuminated by the shimmering light. He looked even more radiant when he was surrounded by their children, who would play joyfully in the background, laughter echoing throughout the cave as they splashed in the water. It filled him with pride to see Adam showing them love and affection like this.

“Oh, Adam...I always knew you’d eventually see things my way…” he whispered softly, a smile playing on his lips as he felt the warmth of his family enveloping him. With a sense of peace washing over him, he closed his eyes, succumbing to slumber, surrounded by the tender chaos of his children—a perfect life captured in this enchanting sea cave.

—————-

Pervs:

I’m… so tired. Work has me up at 12am… I want to draw to destress… and I’m too tired to move. But if I sleep… what if I sleep the whole day away…?

So.. I’m sorry if my arts sucks a bit. I’ll do better next time!

@adamsapple-angst-week-2025

(but now I have jealously, day 6 and day 7 to do!

#Adamsappleangstweek #adamsapple #guitarduck #lucifer x adam #traditional art #adam x lucifer #hazbin hotel #my art #drawing #hazbin hotel au #kraken lucifer #humanish adam #impreg adam #Children

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whoretongue · 2 days ago

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Time for Inkarmat meta.

Inkarmat's cunning and manipulative nature is a product of the oppression she faced both as a woman and an ethnic minority. She developed these skills as a coping mechanism precisely because of her status in society.

Noda went to great lengths not to fall into the "noble savage" trope & made the Ainu characters in GK just as interesting as the Japanese ones. Also, given that Ainu independence is a big theme in GK, it makes sense that these concept would influence Inkarmat's development.

Inkarmat was a female orphan, traveling by herself since a young age, getting into dangerous situations and needing to learn fast alternative means to defend herself.

As an adult Inkarmat is depicted as sexy, flirtatious, and manipulative but as a child she has an innocence that is comparable to Asipra. This is an explicit parallel as we see Asirpa is reminded of her relationship with Sugimoto, when Inkarmat recalls her love for Wilk.

Also Yes, Asirpa's canon crush on Sugimoto is paralleled by Inkarmat's crush on Wilk when she was a child. Inkarmat's sadness that Wilk may have forgotten her represents an insecurity Asirpa carries with her for most of the plot.

Asirpa is afraid one day Sugimoto will leave her behind for another woman -the woman he loves as he said himself. Just as Wilk did to Inkarmat when he fell in love with Asirpa's mother, not even sharing stories of Inkarmat to his child whom he told so many other important things.

Carrying on. Noda empowers adult Inkarmat by having her taking advantage of Japanese people, the oppressors of the Ainu, and on that it is largely men she is taking advantage of. Yes, Inkarmat uses her wiles to manipulate men, and take advantage of them to secure her own safety.

But she is still very much vulnerable to the majority power. The narrative emphasizes this in the subtext. She is working under Tsurumi, the primary representative of imperialism by the plot, a man who does not rely on the subordination of the Ainu to accomplish his goals

And she is later imprisoned by him proving that Tsurumi had always been the one in power all along, she is sexualized and victimized by other random Japanese men, and she relies on Tanigaki (a Japanese man) for safety.

Need to add you can compare the way other female characters are depicted sexually based on their societal status. O-gin is very empowered and free even during sex. And Sofia has personal agency and is regarded as a leader of men so when her tits are out it's just for a good time.

Also kind of on a similar note. Inkarmat and Ienaga end up sharing a positive relationship which I find kind of cute but also when you think about it. Ienaga is also a suppressed minority as a transwoman, and similarly being held prisoner by Lt Tsurumi.

Anyway, Inkarmat operates with a certain inevitability in her mindset. She has accepted the state of things as an Ainu woman, and that is why she does not care about the gold, or her own fate as dictated by her divinations.

However much like the rest of the cast, she is influenced to have more hope by Asipra who by her very name represents a "new kind of Ainu woman".

And she learns to love and feel the security of family by the influence of Tanigaki and Cikapasi. Likely this is what encourages her to leave clues for Tanigaki so that he can find her after she is taken hostage by Tsurumi.

Inkarmat and Tanigaki get a happy end and I think it represents something very important and also compliments the theme of Ainu liberation pretty nicely imo She was always independent but now she also has security. Anyway, we stan Inkarmat, she is an amazing character...

#golden kamuy #inkarmat #asirpa #tanigaki genjirou

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yoursweetheartsrevenge · 2 days ago

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Summary: While touring the countryside, Aegon and Aemond get lost from the rest of the royal party. Left with no other choice during a thunderstorm, they enter a quaint inn with no rooms left. Surely they can convince the maiden who paid for the last available room to share?

Read on Ao3

Written for @hotd-bigbang

Warnings: smut (fingering, p in v sex, oral - female and male receiving, threesome), loss of virginity, Aegon has only one thing on his mind, MINORS DNI, 18+

Word Count: 7.9K+

Author’s Note: Written for @hotd-bigbang First Prompt: Tropes - one room, one bed, love triangle kind of. This is the first time I am writing Aegon as a main character and writing the two brothers together. I had a fantastic time. I suspect more Aegon x Reader X Aemond in my future writings. Also apparently I can’t keep anything short!

On A Dark Stormy Night You Awaken

The meal is warm while the outside rages.

You can hear the thunder shake flickering the candles laid about the cozy interior of the inn. You slice into the breaded mutton with thin utensils glad to have the last room for the night. The storm had caused many travelers to flock to the inn on the road to King’s Landing. There were many who were going to the tourney for the prince’s name day.

At this point in the evening, slightly damp and a bit nervous, you could not remember which prince was celebrating the joyous occasion.

Your wares were in your single bedroom nestled in the corner of the room. Before retreating to receive some warm food, you had been working to repair a small trinket in your collection. As a jeweler it was your duty to inspect each piece of your trade to make sure only the finest quality made its way to lords and ladies willing to spend coin at the tourney.

While the tools laid abandoned upstairs, the fine emerald ring laid perfectly on your finger. The silver band glistened thickly in the candlelight as you admired the craftsmanship and the resetting of the stone now nestled safely in the band. The stone had come loose a few times, but you had managed to reset it to make it truly a beautiful piece.

Your stomach had rumbled reminding you that you had spent far too long working.

The nice piece of meat and freshly cooked potatoes seasoned with garlic and thyme made happiness sing on your face. It was quite late so you were truly excited to see it was only you and the barkeep awake. You were certain the older woman was the owner of the inn as well.

She had been very kind to give you the last room this late in the evening.

You had told her your tale of woe. Your family had deemed you well crafted enough to venture off to represent the family alone at the tourney. Your father would normally travel with you, however he had taken ill in the past few weeks never truly recovering enough to travel. Your mother needed to stay by his side to nurse him back to health.

Being the only child of your family it was your duty to represent. You had joined a group of merchants from your village and neighboring communities to venture forward. The journey shouldn’t have been too long.

Perhaps only a few days, however a great storm had broken through the clouds in the early afternoon leaving the winds and slanted rain a troubling sight for your old mare. Betsy was a sturdy girl, but was no match for the stubborn storm or the lightning for that matter. It was best not to push her. It had resulted in you being separated from your group and ending up here for the evening.

The wind howled louder breaking you from your thoughts. The door smacked open against the wooden walls of the inn from the power of the rains outside. Two hooded figures entered. The taller one pushed the door closed while the other made their way confidently over to the inn’s owner who was eating a small plate of bread and cheese.

You could tell by the voice that there was an air of entitlement to the tone of the male voice who no doubt was inquiring for a room. You smile to yourself as you hear the raised voice wondering why there is no room for him and his companion. You know of men of his type, feeling as if the world owed them something simply for being a man.

The whispers became more hushed.

You look up to see the hooded figure at the counter is looking your way as the woman behind the counter casually points to you. The taller figure seems to be looking down waiting for conversation to end. You can see his long silver hair clings to his neck under his hood.

A set of violet eyes peak in your direction with a smile so charming you wonder if you will actually give your room to them should they approach.

They most certainly approach you.

“Greeting, my dear.” His voice is oozing with confidence. You spear a potato before deciding it should be cut into a smaller piece. “Pardon us for interrupting your meal, but we are quite weary from travel, my brother and I.” Said brother is behind him, peering curiously to you. You can tell from his sharp features that under that hood lies a dashing young gentleman. “The inn keep has told me you have taken the last room here. And it appears you are the only one still awake at this late hour.”

At that thunder rattles shaking the building and the dinnerware. You hold your plate as if it should fall. This makes the man in front of you smile, endeared at your caution.

“I was wondering if you would be so kind as to share your room for the night.”

You look between them.

Their hoods are no longer clinging to their heads.

You can see them.

Violet eyes.

Silver hair.

A charming smile from one.

A solemn serious expression of the other.

These are the Targaryen princes.

You have, of course, never met them, but the girls in your village whisper of them as girls do with princes. Aegon is the charming one who is sought after by many ladies. Aemond is the quieter, more serious sort of prince who trains and studies by way of sword and pen. Of course, both have been described as handsome young men worthy of swooning.

They are standing before you asking for you to share your room.

Your single bedroom.

“We can pay you triple what you paid.” He tells you already retrieving a large sack of coin from under his cloak.

“There is only one bed in the room, mi’lord.” You say sounding quite innocent.

“We can all share.” He says sounding a bit as though he expects you to do more then simply share your bed.

“We will sleep on the floor, my lady.” It is the first time you hear the taller one, Prince Aemond, you suspect based on the description your village friends have given, speak. His voice almost sounds gruff as if he is privy to choosing his words carefully.

“We will do no such thing.” Aegon argues brushing his brother’s thought aside. “We will be well behaved unless the lady hopes otherwise.” The hood falls then revealing how truly handsome Prince Aegon is. His smile makes your heart curl in your throat. You can not help yourself. You shove a potato in your mouth to stop your smile and perhaps halt your blush.

“We will sleep on the floor.” Aemond looks sharply at his brother.

“You can sleep on the floor, brother. I would be honored to share a bed with the prettiest girl in the inn.” You blush at the elder prince’s flattery.

“I do not mind sharing.” What are you saying?! You are not betrothed. You have never in your life shared a bed with a young man, let alone two! Let alone TWO TARGARYEN PRINCES!!! “If it is your wish . . .” You wait to whisper the next words. “My princes.”

They are not surprised you recognize them.

“See, Aemond, she is generous. And ready to serve the crown.” Aegon winks at this. You look down at your food. “Let us celebrate our new accommodations. Barkeep! A round of ale for us and our new lady companion!” He waves to the inn owner. You can see she struggles to be polite.

It is quite late.

***

You find yourself a bit tipsy after two ales.

It is a pleasant buzz, but you are used to enjoying some libations with a meal. The brothers ordered a platter of cheese, fruit, and bread to pick at as they enjoyed your company while you finished your dinner.

Aegon discussed the entire journey that their mother had insisted they travel on to see the kingdom. You learn it is Aegon’s name day that will be celebrated in a few short days. You barely get a word in to explain who you are. It is no matter to Prince Aegon who continues to compliment your beauty and how soft your lips look.

You manage to mention that you are also journeying to King’s Landing, but that is all. Aegon seems excited by the prospect of spending more time with you touching your arm softly. You note that he watches your face to make sure you are enjoying his little touches. He must clearly see you are because he spends most of the latter part of the meal tracing your knuckles softly.

Aemond looks down most of the evening eating small pieces of fruit. You note how he likes to take small bites and savor the flavors of each piece of food he enjoys. Aegon merely shoves food in his mouth without a thought. Upon hearing you are traveling to King’s Landing the younger prince perks up. You catch his one eye noting for the first time the leather eye patch there on the other eye.

That eye is curious. Perhaps always curious.

He watches you as you twist the ring on your finger nervously.

As you make your way up to your room, Aemond saddles up beside you.

“Are you married, my lady?” It is a question you had not imagined to be asked. “Your ring.” He motions toward the silver band.

“Oh.” You can not help but laugh. Immediately you cover your mouth. “Apologies, mi’lord. It is not a wedding band or even a symbol of betrothal. I am a jeweler. I was re-setting the stone earlier in the evening. I like to wear what I make as a symbol of pride.”

The explanation seems to both excite and be a relief to the prince.

“It is a stunning piece. You are a master craftsmen.” He admires it as you approach the door. Aegon seems to wander down the hall, having enjoyed too much drink. “Excuse me, sweet one.” Aemond moves to fetch his brother who begins to loudly bang on an occupied room.

You can not help, but giggle at the interaction.

You unlock the door to your own room.

It is a bit larger than typical accommodations. It appeared that the room was left unoccupied due to the sturdier price. The innkeep had taken pity on you, a young woman separated from your group with a gray mare who shivered and shook in the thunderstorm. She had offered you the room at half cost, though you did not tell the princes that as they paid you triple for the base price of the room.

The bed you now realizes is large enough for the three of them. You would have neither of the princes sleep on the floor, no matter how you felt about the accommodation. You realize your tools are a bit strewn about on the desk noticing the shavings of metal and small bent tools. You quickly tidy up as the princes enter with their baggages.

You see out of the corner of your eye Aegon immediately begin to disrobe.

Aemond scolds him quietly before blocking his brother from your view.

“Oh come now, brother. Surely the young miss would love to take a gander on Targaryen beauty.” You can practically hear the wink he gives though Aemond is still shielding you.

“I apologize for my brother,” Aemond says assisting his brother in removing his clothes as the young man struggles to fit his under shirt over his head. “He has had too much drink.”

“I have not!” Aegon insists. “I can still get it up. I assure you.” He hiccups.

You snort a laugh. Aemond looks to you as you return your tools to your bags.

“Are you to sell your wares at the tourney?” Aemond’s voice is curious.

Aegon flops face first into the bed. He begins to burrow under the covers as if some mole or other underground creature.

“I am. I have several. I can also make custom jewelry for any lords and ladies who enjoy my offerings.” You open a small case that displays the rings you have created. You cushion the emerald ring back in the case.

You can feel Aemond’s breath at your neck as you press your fingers against the velvet dark blue cushion that houses each unique ring. Aemond runs his finger over a bright large sapphire set in a gold band. It is one of your favorites as it appears that a dragon’s teeth are about to swallow the sapphire. You have fashioned a few rings for the celebration to represent various houses. Many represent House Targaryen with dragon motifs.

“I should like to buy this one. If the lady is willing to depart from it?” His eye blinks at you.

“Oh, I would be honored, my prince.” You remove it from the casing to retrieve a small velvet pouch your mother had sewn for clients. You offer him the ring for free, but Aemond insists on paying double for it. You try to stay his hand.

“You should be paid for your materials and time. I see you take great care in your work. I would be most honored to wear this at the tourney and talk up your finery to the lords and ladies at court.”

You smile thinking him the kinder of the two brothers. You thank him for his generosity before awkwardly deciding to disrobe yourself. The pair of you look away as your clothes are removed. You begin to undo your corset letting your mind wander to the bed. It had been soft when you settled in it earlier that evening. The innkeep had said she had just purchased a new mattress and new silk white sheets with gold threading. Aegon is face down in them asleep so they appear to be fit for a prince. You are in your white slip before removing it so you are bare.

You clearly see Aegon peeking at you from his awake position though he quickly closes his eye when you catch him. You smile not minding the attention. Nobody in your village has paid this kind of attention to you before so the attention is almost a welcome. You pull a white night gown over your head settling it against your bare breasts.

You turn to the bed but catch a glimpse of Prince Aemond.

He is VERY well toned. Of course he is, being the prince who trains with the sword. He wears soft trousers to cover his lower half, though they hang low on his hips. His eye quickly casts downward as he gazes on you.

He seems to be pleased with your night time appearance as well.

“I will be in the middle. Hopefully this will stay my brother’s wandering hands from you.” Aemond states, eye still set to the floor.

You can only nod. If you spoke you may something crude, such as you not minding should any hands wander over your body in the middle of the night.

While no man has ever touched you in such a way it does not mean you are not without want.

When both princes are in bed and under the covers, you decide it is your turn. You pull them back to reveal the soft mattress below. You settle hearing the rain beginning to pound louder outside. You shiver tucking yourself in. The heat of the younger dragon prince feels welcoming as you snuggle beside him turning yourself to face away from him.

The bed looked larger when you had been looking down at it, but now it felt small. Prince Aemond turned a bit trying to get comfortable settling to curl forward against your back. You could feel small steady breaths against your neck, hot with nervous energy.

“Is this alright? I can move, but your body is . . . quite warm. Hmmm . . .” His fingers graze your hip in a moment before pulling away.

“Yes, you are fine this way.”

It is the last thing you say before closing your eyes.

You fade in and out of sleep occasionally being awakened by the storm. The thunder is loud enough to make you whimper. As you awaken with a start you are not sure if it is the thunder that startles you or the hardness against your bum. On instinct you move against it cause it to stir with movement. You hear the prince groan low.

“I . . .apologize.” He says clearly embarrassed by his member, long and needy of attention. “I . . .” His fingers are brushing at your hip again, this time a bit more with intent.

“It is flattering.” You decide to say after a moment in thought. “I do not mind it.” At this you feel Aemond’s hand dip lower to the soft flesh of your thigh.

You whimper a bit too loud.

It causes his breath to quicken. You hear him swallow hard.

You decide to turn to face him. He lets go of your thigh immediately at your movement. You see him now. His eye is moving rapidly looking to you with a sweet desire. Your eyes focus over to the sapphire, large and round in his scarred eye socket. He leans forward halfway with his lips, testing the waters.

You will not let Prince Aemond suffer any longer.

You meet him halfway for the kiss.

You do not expect Prince Aemond to be inexperienced with kissing, but he is. His movements are needy and a bit rough. You have had some stolen kisses with stable boys that you feel as if you can judge a good kiss from a bad kiss. His kiss is not bad, but it is sloppy and fast. You slow him down by softly petting his cheek. After a moment or two you fall into a rhythm that is pleasant for you both with slips of your tongue against his. The wet sound echoes in your chamber as you feel your lower half begin to stir with need and wetness.

Your hips hump against his hardness in the dark room as the storm rages around you. He moans against your kisses especially when your clothed sex rubs against the tented tip of his cock.

“You are behaving quite unfairly, Aemond.” The younger brother nearly breaks upon hearing Aegon’s light scolding. You manage to hold his chin to your lips to steal his attention away from the other prince. “I am the elder brother. I should have her first.”

You can feel Aegon watching as you and Aemond continue to lose yourself in sloppy kissing. You open your eyes to make contact with Aegon. He slips his hand below the sheets. You watch as it moves slightly. His eyes flutter momentarily in pleasure as he touches himself.

“I can share myself.” You do not know where your boldness comes from. It may be the storm threatening to swallow this inn whole or the idea you will never get an opportunity like this ever again. Aemond is kissing your neck as you speak too focused on his pleasure to note you are offering yourself to Aegon as well. “Come here, my prince.”

There is no hesitation as Aegon kneels. You can see now he sleeps nude, a tuff of curled silver hairs grace the base of his girthy cock. He crawls over his brother as the pair of you shift to make room for the elder prince behind you. He grabs your hips settling his hands in a comfortable position. He kisses the back of your neck moving your hair as he focuses on your spine with little slips of his tongue.

You can feel, he too is hard.

The pair of lips on you sparks you with a divine energy that makes you feel like you could be finished on these sensations alone.

“Oh, you are a loud one. You like what we are doing to you, sweet girl?” Aegon nips behind your ear in a pleased whisper.

Aemond has made his way down between your breasts, lips leaving a soft wet trail. His fingers toy with the ties there. He looks up at you. His eye is nearly pleading with you. There is only a slight movement of your head up and down. He loosens those ties without an ounce of hesitation.

“Yes . . .” It is a soft sort of agreement. Aemond licks and suckles at the side of one of your breasts. “Gods, yes!” The sensation is so good it leaves you panting. Aegon laughs at your enthusiasm.

“Well, let’s see how pleased you are.” His palm glides up your leg pulling up your night gown. He palms at your small clothes moaning at the wetness gathered there. “Oh, my dear, you are wetter than the storm outside.” He bites your neck softly. “So ready for our princely cocks. You would like that wouldn’t you? To have our cocks all nestled safe inside your tight pussy.”

The pleasure is nearly too much. You have lost all grasp on the common tongue too entrapped in the movement of their royal tongues. You feel long slender fingers massaging against your breast. Aemond releases your breast from the confines of your top, his tongue laps at the rosen perked nipple teasing it between his lips. Aegon’s hands squeeze your hip while the other slips underneath your small clothes.

You gasp as a finger slips inside you.

“So very tight.” The prince nuzzles his lips to your jawline. “Are you a sweet little virgin, dear?” You can barely think to answer.

“I . . . yes. Please.” You do not know if you are begging for more or less of them.

“Yes? No wonder this little cunt is so tight. Let me help.” He pumps a second finger inside you which causes you to gasp in a little more painful way. The fingers drag inside you slowly.

Aemond nearly growls in response.

“Relax, brother. She is enjoying it. Aren’t you?” Aegon is now peppering you with kisses as he pumps his fingers inside you.

“It hurts. A bit.” The pain is slowly subsiding as you grow used to a foreign set of fingers inside you. He curled both in unison and it makes your mind go white. You cry out loud over the thunder feeling so close to your peak.

“Oh you want to release now, don’t you?” Slowly Aegon withdraws his fingers. “Not quite yet.” He smacks your thigh lovingly as Aemond continues to massage and play his tongue along your breasts. “My brother has only ever been with one woman. An older whore from the streets of silk. Certainly no virgin.” You feel Aemond moan into your other breast releasing it too. He lavishes sweet kisses upon the flesh before swirling his tongue around the perked nipple. “My brother should feel a virgin cunt shouldn’t he? Would you like my brother to take your maidenhead, sweet girl?”

You would like that.

There is nothing more you would like then to feel what both cocks would feel like inside you.

Aemond could have his turn.

You nod your head.

From Aegon’s cackle you know you are too eager to get fucked.

“Oh you are a bit naughty, aren’t you? You hear that brother? This little virgin would like you to take her maidenhead.” He ruffles with the curtain of his brother’s long silver hair which has fanned forward.

You feel Aemond groan against your nipple tucked between his lips. Wetness and whimpers escape you. Aemond focuses his eye upward before pulling away slowly.

“Would you like that, my lady?” His hands pet the sides of your breasts as you lay on your side. “Hmmm?”

“Please.”

You want it so badly

You NEED it so badly.

The brothers assist in adjusting you so you are laid flat on your back. Aegon lays on his side, head propped on his open palm watching. He moves your hair aside so he can see your pretty face while his brother fucks you. Aemond is above you hovering. He parts your legs slowly beginning to remove your small clothes. The sensation of your pussy hitting the cool air makes you gasp a bit as the wetness makes your sensitive area feel cool. Aemond’s fingers run over your folds in a loving gesture. His eye watches you as he sinks his digit into you. Your chest heaves as a sigh escape.

There is a playful smile on the Targaryen’s lips as he pumps and curls his finger inside you.

Your back arches as you are drawn closer again. Your small hans grasp at the sheets.

“Oh for Gods’ sake, Aemond. Get that cock inside her. You’re hard aren’t you?” Aegon complains with a roll of his eyes.

You can see Aemond is uneasy. Your hand goes to his cheek as he withdraws his finger from inside you. You smile trying to let him know you want this and it is alright. He smiles in return and bends forward. As his chest crushes to your body you can feel his lips against yours, but also his long cock pressing hard to your thigh.

He slowly a lines his cock to brush against your slit. You can feel the bulbous head at your entrance.

“Be slow. She’s very tight.” Aegon warns. He plays with your hair as Aemond lifts from the kiss. “The tightness will make you want to fuck her hard, but stay yourself. You want to make her first time feel good, make her peak. Ease into her slowly. Do not finish too quickly despite how well her pussy squeezes you.”

Slowly you feel Aemond push into you, a little at a time.

You groan so loudly at the initial stretch.

“That’s it.” Aegon is rubbing your shoulder gently.

Aemond pushes inside a bit more slowly stretching your inner walls. You bite your lip. That detail seems to make the prince’s cock twitch inside you. Your walls flutter. Aemond curses and seems to falter, slipping in a bit further.

“Hold it. I know she is a pretty one, but contain yourself, brother.”

“She’s so tight, Aegon. I do not think I can hold much longer.” You feel your eyes are screwed shut trying to concentrate on the pleasant feelings and holding your own composure.

“She’s pretty. Doesn’t she deserve a good first fuck?” You feel Aegon’s lips against your forehead. “I think you deserve this sweet virgin cunt. Be easy. Be good to her and that pussy will be good to you. She will remember your cock first before all others. She will compare you to everyone after including myself. Perhaps even on her wedding night she will think, ‘Is my lord husband’s cock as good as Aemond One-Eyed?’ ”

Aemond continues to ease in slowly stretching you. He drags along your walls a little out then more in. Before long you feel him fully inside you. He is nearly panting from the effort as you feel his hot breath fan across your face. Finally you open your eyes. His one eye is closed as his brow is furrowed in concentration. Aegon continues to brush your hair away from your face and press his fingers to your shoulders.

“Aemond, my prince,” You call to him as he opens his eye slowly. “Please.” Your hips move slightly. He lets out a long breath.

He is breathing so hot now.

His body and breath are heavy.

He begins to move slowly in and out.

“See? Listen to her! She loves it. You love my brother’s cock, don’t you, sweet girl?” Aegon says with a smile and a kiss to your forehead.

You did not realize how loud you were being at this slow pace. The sensation of feeling the prince’s cock moving inside you makes sounds you never knew you could make leave your mouth. It encourages Aemond to move quicker inside you. The stretch begins to hurt as he moves faster, but the pleasure blinds out the pain. Your hands are to his lower back pressing his hips forward.

You call out the prince’s name over and over again. The frame of the bed begins to shake as the thunder and lightning crash outside through the pounding of rain. Inside the prince is pounding you making you close to your peak. You cry out feeling your body unravel.

“Pull out of her. Release your seed on her, not inside. Wouldn’t want any bastards.”

You barely register Aegon’s voice as several waves of pleasure roll over you.

“Oh look at her!” Aegon calls out delighted. “She is peaking multiple times! Job well done, brother.”

You feel Aemond’s seed warm on your thigh as he whimpers his own peak on your flesh. You are catching your breath feeling hoarse and raw in the throat. Your walls flutter slowly as the sweat beads across your breasts. You feel Aegon kiss your forehead.

“Such a good girl. I can not wait to rut inside you.” His curved lips feel encouraging against your skin. Your chest puffs in and out as you slowly open your eyes. “Aemond, let’s clean her. There is a wash bin and cloth on the desk. Don’t worry, love. We’ll take care of you before I have my turn. Make sure you are well prepared to take me.” You see him wink.

You see Aemond run his hand over your thigh not coated in his spend. He traces the flesh there with reverence as if soaking in the memory of feeling you. His hand lazily travels to the dips of your hips. You feel tender there and wince.

“Did I hurt you?” You look down to see he is tracing over a small bruise, yellowed at the edges. It is in the shape of a thumb.

“It does not hurt. Only a bit sore.”

He nods. His lips bend down to kiss the spot. You sigh happily at the loving gesture. Aegon groans impatiently, a signal for Aemond to stand. He kisses the bruise one more time before standing. You watch his backside move across the room only lit by the flickering of lightning outside.

“We have not had the same woman before. Aemond and I. I must say it has been quite an enjoyable experience so far. You are such a lovely little plaything for us.” Aegon shifts to move a pillow to his lap. He places your head there. “Comfortable?” You swallow and nodd. “Did my brother fuck you well?” His thumb roams over your lower lip.

“He did.” You feel a wetness against where the drying spend rests.

The soft rag glides across your sweat soaked skin. The water is lukewarm and pleasant.

“I feel very well cared for. Thank you, my princes.” You look between them, up at Aegon who sweetly plays with your hair and forward at Aemond who washes and dries your body clean. There is a lovely little smirk of satisfaction on his face.

“Tell me, Aemond. How is her cunt?” Aegon asks with a sparkle of curiosity.

“It was . . . good.” There is a blush that creeps across his cheeks, shame or embarrassment bright on his features.

“Just good? Come now. It is just us. Tell me. Was she tight? Did she milk your cock? What do I have to look forward to?” The elder prince nearly laughs with anticipation.

“I . . .” He seems to struggle to find the right words. He looks into your eyes. There is still desire there. “I should like to have her again. She felt . . .divine.” His fingers tease your slit making you whimper. “Let me make her wet for you.”

Without hesitation Aemond tossed the rag to the floor with a wet slap. He kneels, spreading your legs apart to get better access to what is between them. He bends his head to kiss your inner thigh before kissing sweetly along your slit. A small gasp erupts from your lips. The brothers laugh playfully at your reaction. Where he was sloppy with kisses on your lips, Aemond’s wet puckered kisses leave you nearly breathless here.

“Get her nice and wet for me.” Aegon pets your head as Aemond kisses your cunt, dragging his tongue inside you. “Don’t take too long. I am eager to have her.”

He curves his tongue as he did his fingers. The sensation makes you cry out with pleased whimpers, high and needy. You can not help yourself as you run your fingers through the Targaryen prince’s long silver mane. You try to steady your breathing so you do not sound as desperate as you feel, but it is too late. Your needy little moans of desire hit high making you wet for the prince’s cock.

“That is enough. She is plenty wet.” Aegon shifts to remove your head from his lap.

You call out for Aemond as his tongue flickers over your sensitive bud.

Aegon grunts pushing at his brother’s shoulder. Aemond lifts his head as if a hound hungrily defending his food. Aegon is the alpha in this situation. He relents to his brother moving to place your head and thr pillow in his lap. Aegon is above you with a toothy grin. His thumb runs along your plump lower lip.

“Such a needy little thing. Don’t worry, sweet girl. I’ll pleasure you even better than my brother.”

Prince Aegon captures your lips savoring each little kiss and whimper. Slowly you feel his cock enter you. There is a small sigh that escapes your lips as you feel his girth, thicker then Prince Aemond. He stretches you more.

“By the Gods,” His eyes flutter closed. “You have such a tight cunt. Fuck.” He chuckles pushing deeper. You feel Aemond’s hand stroke your throat as a stretch of pain washes over you as Aegon’s cock stretches you deeper.

“It is alright. You are doing wonderful, here.” Aemond’s hand reaches to fondle with your exposed breasts. His thumb and index finger tweak your hardened nipples. It leaves you with a bit of a distraction. “Better?”

“Mmmmm. . .” Is your only response.

“Good.” Aemond says as he plays with each of your tits equally.

“There we are.” Aegon bottoms out inside her. “So bloody tight.”

He begins to move not requiring much effort to sate himself. He pushes his thumb to the bruise on your hip. You know it was not Aemond who made it, but Aegon. He is a bit rougher than his brother. You cry out a bit in pain as he gives no care to being gentle now that you have been taken kindly for your first time. He lifts your leg higher prompting him to bury his cock deeper inside you giving you deep strokes.

“You are hurting her.” Aemond says through gritted teeth.

“I am doing no such thing. She is enjoying a good pounding by her prince. Aren’t you now?” His own words prompt him to go faster. He grazes a spot inside you, but quickly pulls away before truly hitting it.

Your lips quiver. Aegon jackhammers into you panting like a rabid animal. His throat releases harsh noises. You try to bring his face down to kiss you, but he is hesitant. He appears not used to kisses while he is fucking. Maybe the whores in King’s Landing are not allowed to kiss the prince. He eventually relents kissing you, which slows his pace though removes Aemond’s hands from your tits.

“You are so sweet tasting.” He breaths in small pants between kisses. “You know that, sweet girl? Like honeyed wine and fall spices.” He nuzzles your neck as he pumps inside you in an easy rhythm. “Mmmm . . . so sweet.”

You feel his cock twitch within you indicating he is close to spilling his seed. However you do not feel your peak approaching. Everytime you are about to reach a desirable peak or spot inside you he seems to deviate to his own pleasure. He lifts from your neck and face, a hand on either side of you as he snaps his hips wildly cursing. Aemond reaches downward to your sex.

“What are you -?”

“It will feel better if she peaks.” Aemond’s finger moves to tease the small bud in your folds. “This is her bud. The madame showed me. Stroking her here,” You make a noise that is a mix of a sigh and a moan. “Is as if you were teasing the tip of your cock. It’s sensitive. Pleasureable.” Aegon moves his thumb over the bud. He presses too hard causing you pain. “No, stroke. Gentle. Yes. Listen to her.” Aegon alters the movement stroking you gently before licking his thumb and slipping it over your bud.

Your voice groans at the sensation. Even the pounding of his hips does not dissuade you from the pleasure you receive from the stroking of your bud. You whimper as he gasps.

“Fuckin’ vice on my cock! Gods!” He cries out.

Aegon waits until the final moment to pull his cock free. He ignores your bud for the moment to spill himself on the sheets. Aemond replaces his brother’s thumb stroking you until your walls flutter leaking your arousal on his fingers. He brings them to his mouth tasting you.

“Hmmmm . . .” Aemond hums against his fingers.

The elder prince pants before turning those pants into laughter. He is knelt on the bed holding his softened cock in his hand. His brother is licking his fingers of your arousal as you are laid out satisfied.

“No regrets on your part I see.” Aegon chuckles. “But . . .” He looks between you and Aemond. “It would be a grand thing if we could get both of our cocks inside your holes.” Aegon reaches to rub his thumb along your lower lip again. You kiss it softly. “Here.” His other hand strokes your center, remembering exactly where that bud is. “And here.”

“Aegon . . .” Aemond says it as if a warning.

“I would like that.” You say looking at Aemond first. His eye is wide. “I am not tired. I want to feel more.” You palm at Aemond’s thigh. Your fingers tease the side of his cock.

You know you will remember this moment for the rest of your days. Someday you will be wed. Someday you will have babes at your breast instead of needy princes. You want to take as much pleasure from them as they do from you, savor the passion of this moment even as the wind howls and the storm rages.

You kiss the tip of Aemond’s cock. He hisses, though the sound is not unpleasant. Aegon moves to sit on the other side of your face. You feel the tip of his cock trace your neck. Your tongue swirls around Aemond’s tip on instinct . He guides your mouth further down on his cock while instructing you to take what you can not fit in your hand and stroke it. You do as instructed, feeling him graze your cheek as his cock grows larger inside your mouth.

“How is her mouth?” Aegon is nearly humming with excitement beside you.

“Exquisite.” Aemond says maintaining his composure.

Your tongue flickers at the underside of his cock as you take him further into your mouth. He is gentle with his instructions, kind when telling you what he desires from you. He tells you to hollow your cheeks. When you do he moans much louder then he did when he was fucking you. You are glad you can give him pleasure simply with your mouth and tongue.

“Let him fill your mouth then I will as well.” Aegon teases in your ear.

You feel a little uneasy at the thought. You can taste salty remnants of Aemond against your tongue. Aemond seems to see how uneasy you have grown. He pulls you from his cock with a pop. His thumb runs across your bottom lip gathering his essence to rub it further into your mouth. You suckle his thumb looking into his eye.

“Hmmm.” He looks to you slowly blinking. “I think you want my cock inside your cunt again. Don’t you, sweet one?” You swallow whatever salty essence he has released in your mouth, not much but enough to know what he tastes like, an aftertaste of sweet fruit.

You hum approval.

“Alright, fuck her cunt. I’ll take that mouth of hers. It sounds as if it is better than her cunt by how pleased you seemed, brother.” You feel Aegon pull your mouth toward him.

Without hesitation he pries your mouth open.

“Careful.” Aemond is hissing again. “Be gentle with her.”

“What if she wants a bit of roughness?” You feel Aegon pump two fingers into your mouth. You suckle tasting bits of cheese under his nails. The corners of your mouth seep drool. “Oh good girl. She’s drooling over the thought of sucking my cock. Let me hear it from your mouth then, sweet girl. What do you desire?”

You have never been asked such a question in your life.

The thunder crackles shaking the room. You are looking into one prince’s eyes before looking into the eye of the other prince.

What is it you desire?

You were practically forced into your current line of work. A family trade is tradition and should be treated as such. You love your work now, but were never given the opportunity to try anything else.

You will not have a say in your husband.

You will not have a say in your friends.

Your free time has never been your own.

Yet here, in the darkness of night, in a storm that rages outside you are asked such a question from the least likely of people.

“The crown demands to know your true desires.” Aegon seems sweeter now removing his fingers from your lips. The wet fingers stroke from your temple to your cheek catching some of your sweat stained hair.

In the storm you awaken your true desires.

“I want to be touched. Worshipped. I want to feel you both inside me. It does not matter where, but yes, I should think a gentle embrace is what I would like most.” Your eyes flutter with a mixture of innocence and pure lust.

“Well then, I will remain gentle. But I may lose control. Tap my leg thrice if my cock is too rough, my lady. I do not wish you pain, only pleasure. For tonight you are the one we shall worship.” He bends down, giving you a sweet kiss on the temple.

Aemond slowly begins to remove your night dress so you are bare before the two princes. It does not feel like exposure, but instead it feels as though you have truly given yourself to the moment, to this place in time, to your lovers. In that moment the prince titles fade from your mind.

All three of you only want to make each other feel good.

“You are so soft.” Aemond says.

His lips are trailing down your body, between the valley of your breasts, at your soft belly, and then to your thighs. You can feel how soft you are in each spot as he travels. Aegon slowly rubs his fingers over your lips letting you kiss him before his cock, hard and ready rubs across your lips too. You open your mouth taking the thick cock.

As you suck on Aegon’s cock, Aemond slowly inserts himself inside your cunt.

“By the Gods, your mouth . . .” He groans almost as loud as his brother did.

You are glad you are making him feel this way. Each brother has a hand on one of your tits. Slowly their rhythms seem to match thrusting into each of your wet holes in unison. You tap Aegon’s leg thrice when you find it difficult to breath. He does seem to care about your comfort as does Aemond who has gently folded your thighs upward as he strokes his cock inside you.

The gentleness of it all makes time seem never ending.

It is fine by you. You are feeling elated in this moment.

Enjoying yourself perhaps too much.

“I am close.”

“As am I.”

“Are you close, darling?”

You do not know who’s voice is who’s in that moment. You simply hum around Aegon’s cock before he can pull out.

“I want to fuck your mouth a little rougher. Would that be alright with you?” Aegon blinks softly.

It is hard to deny him, but also you feel your pussy twitch at the suggestion. You nod.

“Mmmm. . . her cunt twitched at the suggestion. She’s so fuckin’ close.” You hear in Aemond’s voice he is ready to spill himself.

You wonder if both of them will spill inside you.

Hands fit against the back of your head as Aegon gently guides your mouth over his cock. Your jaw is beginning to hurt from holding open for so long, but you want to feel good as well. A small price to pay, you suppose. Aegon’s cock begins to go deeper inside your mouth before thrusting faster. You feel spittle gather at the corners as you hear your hollow chokes begin. Those sounds seem to spurn Aemond on.

His thrusts are deeper as well inside your cunt, which is well stretched at this point. He is muttering curses as his fingernails make half moons on your thighs. All you hear is the men’s moans as they reach their peak as you choke and gasp around Aegon’s cock.

“Swallow all of it.” You feel it hit the back of your throat. You choke and slurp it back into your mouth. He is saltier then Aemond and there is much of his spend. You lick your lips when Aegon pulls from your mouth.

Aemond pounds viciously into you.

Your pussy twitches as you feel your eyes go white for a moment in your peak.

He is growing soft inside you collapsed.

“Naughty Aemond.” Aegon scolds. “Spilled his seed inside. Don’t worry. We can prepare some moon tea in the morning. Make sure no bastards grow in this cute little belly.” Aegon leans down and kisses your stomach.

Aemond rolls to his back panting.

“You enjoy her, brother? Tight cunt is much better then the cunt of an old whore.” Aegon nearly laughs. “And you my dear, how was your first time? Hmmm . . . you feel thoroughly worshipped by your princes?”

“Yes. I do.” You are nearly panting as well.

You will be sore in the morning, but the pleasure was worth every ache and pain.

“Perhaps when you are in King’s Landing we’ll have you again. It is my name day after all.” Aegon lays beside you his hands under his head watching you breath and your eyes lazily begin to close before opening to look at him. “We wore you out. Didn’t we?” He runs his hand over your lips once more.

“Yes, my prince.”

It is then you turn to Aemond. He is looking at you in a similar position to Aegon, but on your other side. He reaches forward to kiss your lips, moaning against them. He presses himself to you. On instinct you wrap your arms around him to cuddle him and stroke his hair. It is in this moment when he is nestled between your breasts and suckling comfortably at your skin you think this is typical for him after sex. Aegon hugs your waist from behind.

“Such a beautiful night.” Aegon mumbles into your hair. “Such a strange and beautiful stormy night.”

One the three of you will never forget.

#vbbships #aegon x reader x aemond #aegon x reader #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aegon smut

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