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n1ght0f-nyx · 2 months ago

Note

Your last fic was so good! I return once again, i meed more of my husband.

Can we get some soft fluffy smut with per'tah? Maybe the first time they are finally intimate with each other? Can be part of the series or stand alone.

Love ya 😘

woven bonds- pert'ah (orc oc) smut

part 6 of woven bonds and smut

pert'ah x fem reader

water-lillie you keep me sane

tags/warnings- over the time you two have been together his english has gotten better, arranged marriage, human female x male orc, gentle giant, your together!, smut, very gentle man but hes huge so its still rough, heavy illusions to the idea of pregnancy, no condom obvi, virginity taking (on both sides) hes actually a total tease, pert'ah has a frenum piercing

also, feel free to request non-woven bonds-related things that involve pert'ah or my other ocs (see my masterlist) i love writing for all these characters and seeing the mass of support I've gotten over the last month!

i need to learn to stop writing so much- 3739 words

The night was quiet, save for the soft rustle of the wind outside the small home you now shared with Pert’ah. The hearth had died down to embers, casting a gentle, warm glow across the room. You could still hear the faint crackling of the last burning logs as you sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the woven blankets beneath your fingers.

Pert'ah was quiet, too, standing near the window, his broad back to you as he gazed out into the night. The silence between you both wasn’t the uncomfortable kind it had once been. After weeks of tentative conversations and quiet gestures, the distance between you two had shrunk. And yet, tonight felt different. Intimate in a way that made your heart race.

“Are you… ready for sleep?” Pert'ah’s deep voice broke the stillness, the hint of uncertainty in his words unusual for him.

You nodded slowly, your eyes drifting toward the space beside you. “Yes....im tired"

The truth was, you had grown used to Pert'ah sleeping on the floor beside the bed, wrapped in his own blanket. He had never pushed for more, always respecting the distance you’d initially demanded. But tonight, you had quietly asked him to sleep beside you. The words had caught in your throat, but they had come out, and he had agreed without question.

Pert'ah approached the bed cautiously, as if not wanting to spook you. His steps were quiet for someone his size, his large, rough hands moving carefully as he pulled back the blanket and slid in beside you. The bed felt smaller now with him in it, his presence all-encompassing and warm.

You lay on your back, staring up at the ceiling, feeling the heat of his body beside you. His breathing was slow, steady, and somehow calming.

After a few moments, you turned to face him. “Pert’ah?”

He shifted, turning his head to look at you, his golden eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. “Yes?”

“Tell me more about your past,” you said softly. “We’ve been together for a while now, but… I still don’t know much about where you come from.”

Pert’ah let out a slow breath, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite read. “My past… is not so interesting. I am… simple man.” He paused, his hand resting near yours on the bed, his fingers curling slightly as if he wanted to reach out but wasn’t sure if he should.

“I was born into weaving,” he continued. “My family, we make many things. Cloth, art. From when I am small, I learn to use my hands to create.” His voice grew softer as he spoke, a far-off look in his eyes. “My father, he teach me much. Say that strong hands can create just as much as they can destroy.”

His gaze shifted to you, and the look in his eyes made your heart stutter.

“And you?” you asked quietly. “What do you want to create… with me?”

For a moment, the only sound in the room was your combined breathing. Then, Pert'ah’s large hand slid across the blanket, covering yours gently. His touch was warm, comforting, and his fingers entwined with yours as if they were always meant to fit together.

“With you?” he repeated, his voice low, thoughtful. “I want to create… peace. Home.” His thumb brushed the back of your hand, his touch tentative but sincere. “I want to make you happy. Want you to feel safe with me.”

The vulnerability in his voice made your chest tighten. You shifted closer to him, your fingers tightening around his as you rested your head on his shoulder. For so long, you had resisted, keeping him at arm’s length, but now, lying here with him, you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

“I think… I’m starting to feel that way,” you whispered, your breath warm against his skin. “With you.”

Pert'ah’s arm wrapped around you slowly, carefully, as though he feared breaking the fragile moment. His hand rested on your back, holding you close. You felt his heartbeat, steady and strong beneath your ear.

“I never thought I would end up here,” you murmured. “With you. I never thought I’d…” You trailed off, unsure how to put your feelings into words.

But Pert'ah understood. He always did.

“We are here now,” he said softly, his hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back. “We can...make future together.”

You looked up at him, meeting his golden eyes. “What kind of future do you want?”

His eyes softened, his tusked smile gentle. “One where you smile more. Where we work together. You and me… mates.”

It was a simple answer, but it made your heart swell. The life you had imagined for yourself before seemed distant now, irrelevant. What mattered was the man beside you, the quiet strength in his words and the way he held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

You shifted again, tilting your head up until your lips brushed his. The kiss was slow, tentative at first, but it quickly deepened, the space between you disappearing completely as his arms tightened around you.

When you finally pulled away, your breath mingling with his, you smiled softly. “I think… I’d like that future, too.”

Pert'ah’s smile widened, his rough fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face, his sparkling golden eyes looking down at yours he leans down, and when he doesnt see you pull back, connects, pressing his lips to yours

you kiss back, his tusks feel uncomfy against your lips, but you'll manage, its all worth it for him, you lightly press your hands against his leather sleep tunic, he had sewn two matching ones for the both of you so you had a more comfortable rest on the furs.

you pull back, looking up at him with a sweet loving smile, but one that would never compare to the one he gave back, all that man did was love you

Pert'ah's eyes lit up when you kissed him back, a warmth spreading through his chest at your acceptance. He could feel the slight discomfort of his tusks, but the way you willingly leaned into his touch, despite them, filled him with a deep longing to cherish and protect you.

As you pulled back and smiled up at him, Pert'ah's gaze followed yours, drinking in the sweetness of the moment. His smile grew wider, mirroring yours, but the intensity behind it made you feel like you were the only person in the world. His hands framed your face, gently tracing the curves of your cheeks with his thumbs, as if to memorise every detail. "You are beautiful," he said, the words coming from a place deep within his soul, his voice filled with a sincerity that left him breathless, He leaned in once more, this time tenderly pressing his forehead against yours, savoring the closeness.

The softness of the moment hung between you, a palpable energy that seemed to fill the air with anticipation. Pert'ah's heart pounded against your chest, a rhythmic reminder of the love he felt for you. His lips grazed your temple, leaving a trail of gentle kisses along your jawline, seeking permission to continue exploring the contours of your face.

And then, there was no hesitation; his mouth claimed yours, demanding nothing but surrender as his tongue danced with yours in a sensual waltz. Time lost meaning as the world narrowed to the two of you, suspended in a sea of desire and affection. When he finally released your lips, Pert'ah's chest rose and fell rapidly, his breath hot against your skin.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "More than anything, I need you."

In that instant, Pert'ah knew that he would move mountains, cross oceans, and defy fate itself to ensure that you remained by his side forevermore. Your love was his anchor, his guiding star, and his reason for existing. As he cradled your face in his palms, Pert'ah vowed to spend eternity cherishing and adoring you, unwavering in his devotion to the mate he had found in you.

you pulled lightly on his tunic, and with a look into your loving eyes, he gets the hint, pulling his shirt off, pulling your lips against his again

Pert'ah's tunic fell away, revealing the strong contours of his chest and the softness of his skin beneath. The warmth of his body radiated towards you, drawing you in like a magnet. As you pressed your lips against his, the sensation of his skin against yours sent shivers down your spine, igniting a flame of desire that threatened to consume you.

Their lips moved in tandem, a sensual dance of tongues and breaths that left them both gasping for air. Pert'ah's hands cradled your face, his thumbs caressing the delicate skin of your cheeks as he deepened the kiss. The gentle touch belied the intensity of his emotions, the love and longing evident in every caress.

As you kissed, Pert'ah's fingers danced over your body, exploring every curve and contour as if mapping your very soul. His hands roamed under your nightgown, finding the soft flesh of your stomach, your breasts, and your thighs, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of your skin and burying his nose in the tender spot between your collarbone and shoulder.

"Mine..my wife" he whispered, the single word echoing through your mind like a promise, a vow, a declaration of love. In that moment, you belonged to him, and he to you, bound together by threads of passion and devotion.

As the kiss lingered, Pert'ah's grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer until you were flush against him. your bodies molded together seamlessly, fitting like pieces of a puzzle designed specifically for yours alone. The contact sparked a firestorm of sensations, each brush of skin against skin amplifying the intimacy and urgency of your embrace.

Time stood still as you clung to each other, lost in the swirling vortex of desire and affection. Nothing existed beyond the confines of your little bubble, where the world melted away, leaving only the pulsating rhythm of your hearts beating as one.

you kiss at his jaw and temple, playing with his hair as his kisses your neck, bruising your throat with marks, you pull your own tunic off and if he could be any more excited, he would explode, looking down at your body, your tits, your waist, your tummy, thighs and what laid between them, your sweet core

The sight of your exposed skin seemed to hypnotize Pert'ah. His eyes traveled over your curves, drinking in the beauty of your naked form, his breathing growing more ragged with each passing second. The bruises on your throat added a depth of color to the canvas of your neck, a testament to the intensity of his emotions.

His fingers traced the outline of your waist, tracing the shape of your belly button, and the gentle rise of your thighs. He couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of your body, every inch of which he had come to adore. Each kiss, each touch, each whisper of breath against his skin sent waves of desire crashing through him like a tide.

Without breaking eye contact, Pert'ah slowly lowered his head, his lips grazing your breast. His mouth closed around your nipple, sucking softly as his tongue began to circle the bud, drawing it into the wet cavern of his mouth. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core, your inner muscles clenching in anticipation.

As he explored your body, Pert'ah's hands roamed over your skin, mapping every contour and valley, tracing the lines of your veins and the tender curve of your collarbone. Every touch, every caress, every kiss sent ripples of pleasure through you, building upon themselves until you felt like you might burst apart from sheer joy.

Lost in the haze of desire, Pert'ah didn't notice when needy tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, nor did he realize that your nails dug gently into his scalp as you arched into his touch. All he saw was the radiant beauty of your face, bathed in moonlight, illuminated by the pure, raw emotion emanating from your very pores.

"pert'ah…please…more" you plead, squirming, tugging at his hair lightly, you needed more than gentle licks, nothing about this would be light, no matter how hard he tried, but you were okay with that

Pert'ah's ears perked up at the pleading in your voice, and he lifted his head to look at you with a question in his eyes. Seeing your desperation, he smiled, a mischievous glint in his golden eyes. He knew exactly what you wanted, and he was more than happy to oblige.

His tongue flicked out, teasing your nipple with slow, deliberate strokes, drawing out a sharp intake of breath from you. You arched into his touch, your body aching for more, and Pert'ah responded eagerly.

His mouth closed around your nipple once more, this time applying gentle suction, then harder and harder, until the pressure became almost unbearable. He pinched the other nipple with his fingers, the dual sensations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

Pert'ah's hands slipped down your stomach, his fingers dancing over the tender skin, exploring every dip and curve, before finding their way to the swollen nub between your thighs. He pressed a finger against you, and you gasped as he applied gentle pressure, circling the sensitive tissue in rhythmic motions.

The world narrowed to a pinpoint as he continued to tease and taunt you, the sensations building to a crescendo within you. The tightness in your abdomen coiled tighter and tighter, threatening to unleash a torrent of release.

Just as you teetered on the brink, Pert'ah withdrew his fingers, leaving you panting and desperate for more. A wicked grin spread across his face as he watched you writhe in frustration, knowing full well the effect he had on you.

"Don't worry..my love," he purred, leaning forward to capture your lips in another searing kiss. "I haven't forgotten about you."

you squirm in his touch as he pulls back, sitting back to look at his work, the glistening slick that covered your cunt like a thin film, watching you pant and plead with your eyes, he leans back on his knees and takes his cock out from behind his loin cloth, giving you a show as he pulls his foreskin back, revealing his sheen-green tip which leaked precum down onto his silver frenum piercing

Pert'ah's showy display had you squirming in place, your eyes fixed on his erect member as he stroked himself slowly, the motion drawing your gaze to the glisten of precum that trickled down his shaft, pooling at the base of his penis.

The sight of his erect cock made your mouth water, your inner thighs slickening further in response, the need to feel him inside you reaching a fever pitch. Your fingers involuntarily drummed a rhythm on his leg, urging him to take action.

His golden eyes sparkled with mischief, a challenge in his gaze that he knew you wouldn't be able to resist. He leaned forward, his hand wrapping around your thigh, fingers closing around your calf as he gently but firmly drew your leg up.

"I'm ready when you are, my love," he purred,

you nod, spread and ready for him, he his breath hot against your neck as he slowly dragged his member through the slick folds of your pussy, the tip parting your labia and brushing against your clit.

The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve ending in your lower body singing in delight as he began to rock his hips, slowly pushing his cock deeper into your depths. The sensation of him sliding inside you, the feeling of him filling you completely, was indescribable, aside from heaven and a little (alot) painful

Pert'ah's movements were slow and deliberate, allowing you to adjust to his size, his cock slowly sinking deeper into your slickened core. He knew he had to be gentle, careful not to push too hard, too fast, not yet. He could feel your body tensing up around his, the gentle pain of entry easing as you began to relax.

With a tender touch, Pert'ah cradled your face in his hands, gazing into your eyes, seeing the mix of pain and pleasure there. "You okay, love?" he asked softly, his voice a gentle rumble as he paused in his movements, waiting for your response.

You nodded, taking a deep breath, the pain giving way to pleasure as he started to rock his hips again, his cock sliding in and out of your depths in a steady rhythm, each thrust deeper and more precise, easing you into a comfortable cadence.

Pert'ah's fingers began to trace the outline of your breasts, his touch soft and soothing, drawing your attention to the sensations building within you, making it difficult to focus on anything else besides the pleasure coursing through your body.

"Good girl," he praised, his voice warm and encouraging as he continued to move inside you, filling you completely, stretching you deliciously tight around his shaft.

Pert'ah watched as you stared down at the scene below, your eyes widening as you saw his cock moving in and out of your depths, leaving a trail of wetness and evidence of your shared pleasure. A lump formed in your stomach, and Pert'ah's heart skipped a beat as he realized you were struggling to process this new sensation, this newfound intimacy between you.

His movements slowed, and he lifted your chin, forcing your gaze back up to his. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked again, concern etched in his voice, his golden eyes searching for any sign of distress or discomfort.

As he spoke, Pert'ah continued to move inside you, gentle but insistent, sensing that he needed to ease your mind, reassure you that everything was going to be alright. He wanted to be sure you knew that this was a good thing, that he was here for you, with you, and that he was going to cherish and love you for as long as you'd allow him.

His hands continued their gentle exploration of your breasts, the softness of his touch a stark contrast to the hardness of his body, yet somehow perfectly balanced, creating a rhythm that was both soothing and exhilarating, keeping you grounded as you navigated this uncharted territory.

"Y-you're doing...oh fuck..youre doing amazing," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear, his words dripping with sincerity, encouraging you to continue embracing this new aspect of your relationship, to revel in the raw power of your physical bond.

Slowly, Pert'ah began to pick up speed, his thrusts becoming more deliberate, more purposeful, driving deeper into your depths, filling you entirely, stretching you in ways you hadn't experienced before. Every stroke brought you closer to release, building pressure in your core, threatening to unleash a torrent of pleasure unlike anything you'd ever known.

As he reached the brink of climax, Pert'ah stilled, his body tensing, his hips locked tight against yours, his eyes fixed intently on yours, waiting for permission to finish what he started. "w-where...where can i..?" he huffs, squelches echoing through his cabin with each heavy thrust, his eyes were heavy, lidded as he glanced down at the imprint he formed your stomach as he thrusted inside

"shit...your...you're so gorgeous...gonna..fi-fill you up...make you a mama.." his word go straight to your core, and it just gushes, you spray all over his stomach and cock, showering him in your squirt

the room around him seemed to melt away, replaced by the primal urge to claim you as his own, to brand you with his mark, to show the world you were his and only his.

As Pert'ah watched, mesmerized, the sight of your gushing fluids splashing against his stomach and the base of his cock, his mind was reeling. This was real, this was happening, he could have a family. The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying, and he couldn't help but feel a surge of pride and possessiveness course through his veins.

He let out a satisfied grunt as his orgasm washed over him, his body jerking in reaction, his cock spilling its load deep inside you. The warmth of your inner walls enveloped him, milking him dry, and he collapsed against you, spent but elated.

In that moment, nothing else existed except the two of them, lost in the throes of passion, bound by the threads of their desires and needs. Pert'ah's thoughts swirled with visions of the future, of growing families, of children playing under the sun-kissed skies, of laughter and tears, of memories forged in the fire of their love.

you cry out as he overflows your cunt with his seed, pert'ah heaves and drops down on top of you, panting and whispering praises in aftershock of his first time, you smile softly, snuggling into the bed once again, not caring about the sticky between your legs, you would clean in the morning

As Pert'ah's breathing slowed, his weight shifted, and he curled around you, enveloping you in the warmth of his body. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you closer, as if to keep you from ever escaping, to make sure you stayed right where he wanted you.

He nuzzled into your hair, inhaling deeply, filling his lungs with the scent of you. "Mine," he whispered again, the word becoming a mantra as his lips brushed against your scalp.

You felt his heart beating against yours, a steady drumbeat that echoed the rhythm of your own. The comfort of his embrace washed over you, chasing away any lingering doubts or fears. In this moment, there was no denying the power of his claim, the intensity of his possession. You were his, and he was yours, bound together in a dance of love, lust, and desire.

As the silence deepened, the only sound the soft rise and fall of your shared breathing, Pert'ah's hands roamed your body, tracing the curves, the contours, the lines. Each touch was a reassurance, a promise of the pleasures to come, of the life they would build together.

I am TIRED

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cxmetcxtcher · 1 month ago

Text

Back In Time- Starter

(This is NOT a time travel thing. This is simply a starter that takes place before current cannon. This is around the end of HoO I think?)

The date is October 5th, 2016. Camp is still recovering from the recent battles. Things have settled down, though. Things were quiet- but not for long.

“LET ME GO!” You hear from the border of camp. A Satyr is dragging a boy in, who was kicking and thrashing “IM NOT GONNA STAY ANYWHERE! LET ME GO!”

Tag List~ @diving-off-the-deep-end

@demigod-jack-hearth

@hot-skater-boi

@willows-pjo-ocs (you can choose who interacts)

And anyone else

(Note: hi this is Koi and Quillis’ mun I’m stealing some ppl from both of their tag lists so sorry for the ping!)

#Shooting Stars Never Fly For Me #Pjo rp #pjo roleplay #pjo rp oc #pjo rp starter #percy jackson rp #pjo open starter #pjo rpg #percy jackson roleplay

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tr4gictea · 3 months ago

Note

how about reader who is a honeybadger human x house of hearth (platonic)

Honeybadger!Human!Teen!Reader w/House of the Hearth

❥Masterlist

Tags: child homelessness, orphan reader, fighting, jumping a man, illegal activity, fighting, curse words, oc orphans

Including: Lyney, Lynette, Freminet, and other house of hearth children

word count: 3,729 words

A/n: Hi! Thank you for the request! So sorry this took so long to come out. I got lazy and accidentally deleted half of my work while writting. But this was a fun request! I got to look into honey badgers, who are such interesting animals, and (Y/n)'s personality is based on a honey badger!

Living on the streets of Fontaine isn't as bad as people make it out to be. Sure you have to scavenge for food people have already eaten, fight other kids ten times your size, and be ridiculed out in public by people for your ears and tail but you hide them under a coat so it's no problem.

Your days are usually slow with you getting out of bed at whatever time. You then head to Café Lutece in the morning you swipe food off empty tables, which are pretty tasty, sometimes. You then go down to Fleuve Cendre and see if there are any jobs that can earn you a few mora. These jobs usually require you to deliver illegal luggage somewhere, slip something in someone's drink, or whatever the commissioner wants. These jobs are usually highly illegal but they pay so well that you don't complain. Not to brag but you were pretty good at it. After that, you get lunch depending on how much you earn from the commission. Once nightfall comes you have to go and find a place to sleep. There's one spot on the roof of the court that every street kid in the city fights over and you are always the one to take the spot. No kids in Fontaine have weapons that they can fight you with, but you have your claws. These can rip and shred any kid who tries to take your night spot. These street kids know to leave you and your spot alone for the most part.

But today when you got to your spot you found three young adults sitting in your night spot. Two boys and one girl. The first boy was wearing a top hat with clean-looking clothes. The second boy was wearing some kind of sailor hat. The girl was some sort of hybrid with a cat because she had cat ears and a tail, her outfit was similar to the first boy's outfit but blue. These were definitely not street kids and you had no idea how they got here.

"AY!" You yelled the three turned around in surprise. "Get out of my night spot unless you wanna pay for hospital bills tomorrow."

The first boy stood up "So sorry about this, we will be finished in a min-,"

"No." You snap at him "You'll finish now or I kick your asses all the way to Sumeru and back."

"You know you shouldn't be talking like that to people who are much stronger than you." He flashed his pyro vision to you and the girl and the other boy does so too. He gave you a threatening smile. "Give us a minute."

Fun Fact about honey badger: It is said to be the most unbothered animal as stated in the Guinness Book of World Records. So unbothered in fact that they go up against lions and venom snakes.

So when the man threatened you, the words went in one ear and came out the other.

"So? You got a rock that glows. You're still in my spot."

"You're quite the feisty one aren't ya?"

"..."

The girl sighed and got up. "It's not worth it Lyney. Let's go," And with that, they stood up and left your spot. They only moved across the roof away from you but it was enough away where you could sleep without hitting them.

As you lay down you could feel those people's eyes on you. You supposed they were still mad at you for making them move but you didn't care as long as they didn't bother you.

The next morning you wake up, expecting all three people to be gone, instead, you find the cat girl and the quiet boy gone. But the giant top hat man is still there. He was sat, just staring at you.

You thought of saying something to him, but you didn't care all that much. If he was gonna be a creep let him. As long as it didn't impede on your day. You continued with your day as usual. The first thing you needed to do was get some breakfast. There was a nearby cafe, Café Lutece, where you could wait for people to finish eating and then take their leftover food. Their outside seating made it easier for you to grab food

As you got up from your "bed" the boy also got up at the same time. He had an unmoving smile on his face. It unsettled you to your core. But you carried on with your day thinking he would leave. But no instead he followed you to the cafe. You couldn't help but sneer in disgust at the people there they were all dressed in the finest clothes and eating the most expensive food and they paid no mind to the suffering population of Fontaine. You staked out in the bushes. Your unusually thick skin helped you not feel the branches poking you.

As you stalked and waited for someone to leave, the top hat guy sat down at the shop. A few people leave but the waiters are quick to take the extra food before you can grab it. It looked like you're gonna have to skip breakfast for today until the top-hat guy left his table. You race to his table and find that most of if not all the food has remained untouched. There was a chocolate croissant, grapes, and bread with a side of jam. You stuff your mouth with food immediately for some reason it tastes better than usual.

Now with your stomach full you headed down to Fleuve Cendre to see if there were any jobs. For some reason, the man in the top hat is still following you. He seems harmless enough and you don't care enough to ask him what he's doing.

When you get down to Fleuve Cendre you are lucky enough to find someone who will pay you 5,000 mora to jump some rich asshole, you take to job without a second thought. That amount of mora could pay for a whole week of lunches! The commissioner hands you a picture of the guy with his name on the back and a letter. He gives you his instructions and sends you off to complete the commission.

You were about to head off to beat up the victim when you realized that the top-hat guy was still following you. He kept a good distance from you but you could still tell he was following you. You had to find a way to lose him.

The commissioner said the guy worked on the northside of the court so if I get this top hat guy lost on the west side of the court you can hope that you'll never have to see him again. Right next to the entrance of Fleuve Cendre, there was an ally that had pipes that were easy enough to climb up to the roof.

You put your plan into motion and quickly ran to the ally as soon as you were out of the sewers. You looked behind yourself to see if he was chasing after you but to your surprise, he was slowly walking towards you. Once you got to the ally you jumped from wall to wall, latching onto the piping as you scaled the wall. When you got atop the roof you wasted no time a sprit off to the location the commissioner gave you.

Arriving at the meet point you saw that the man in the picture was already there. The man's name was Louis and he had scammed some big gang out of the mora he promised them. All you had to do was to give him some lame excuse to get him to a secluded spot where you could beat the guy up.

Jumping down from the roof you ran up to the guy in a hurry. "Sir! Please! I need your help!" You exclaim while tugging on the man's sleeve.

"What?! Don't touch me! Gods, you street rats are filthy!" So he's a man who only cares about himself? You were originally gonna say that your friend got injured and you needed to help carry her to a hospital, but you have another idea now.

You release your hands from the man's clothes and bow to him. "I'm so sorry sir, but my master has injured himself. Please I need help carrying him to a hospital,"

The man looks hesitant "Who is your master anyway?"

Oh shit. I didn't think about that. I just need the name of a rich person. "U-uh, his name is uh, Abreo! Sir Abreo!" You heard it from a girl while she was having her breakfast this morning.

"S-sir Abreo!" That name seemed to do the trick as his demeanor immediately changed. "Well, why didn't you say so! Lead the way!"

Perfect everything was going to plan. Once he was cornered in the ally you sprinted forward and ran Louis straight into the wall. It was a blur after that. When you came to Louis' body was full of bruises, long claw marks, and blood dripping down his nose. The commissioner said to leave the letter they handed you in his hand and to take a picture of the guy beat up. Once you did that you left the scene without a second look back. If you did look back, you would have found top hat guy admiring your work.

Once you got back to the commissioner you showed him the picture that you got at the job. He gave you a pat on the back and handed you your sack of mora. You decided to get yourself a little treat and went to a nearby vending machine that sold Fonta. This would have been the plan if you had not been stopped in your tracks by that guy in the top hat blocking the exit of Fleuve Cendre.

He was leaning against the wall facing you while playing with a deck of cards. "You know, I haven't seen someone with features like you before." the strange man lifted himself off the wall and started taking slow steps toward you. "Nor, have I seen someone who can take on a full-grown man at your age with only raw skill. And from the looks of it, not strength from how weak you look"

Wait, how did he know you did that? Had he still been following you? And did he just call you weak?!

"I've been following you around for the day and I have to say you would make a perfect addition to the house!"

"Hm? What are you even talking about stalker?" You quirked your eyebrow still wondering what he was talking about.

"The house of the hearth of course!" He said, "We take in orphans, such as yourself, who we see have the potential to thrive in the house! And you have earned yourself an invite with that show of talent today!"

"Nah, I don't do orphanages they'r-,"

"We offer three meals daily and a warm place to sleep."

"Deal."

The house wasn't what you expected. You learned that the boy who recruited you was named Lyney. He directed you to a shared room where you slept with ten other kids about your age, you each had your own bed so you didn't have to fight each other for one. And it was apparently a rule not to fight each other?! It was a strange house for sure.

You met with some of the younger kids. They poked and pulled at your tail and ears. They asked so many questions like:

"Why do you have ears and a tail?"

"Because I'm a hybrid."

"Of what animal?"

"I don't know."

"Why not?"

"Uhh..."

"Why doesd your hair have two strips and not three?"

"I-,"

"I like the number three better than two so you should have two strips!"

"Uhhhhhhhhh...."

"Okay, guys let's leave (Y/n) alone and stop asking them so many questions." An older girl said as a younger boy pulled you away from the children. These two were the others on the roof that night. You learned that the girl's name was Lynette and the boy's name was Freminet. They were both the quiet type and didn't speak that much, you didn't know if it was because they were shy or introverted. But something was telling you that it was both.

"Sorry about that," The girl spoke, "They get rowdy when they meet new people who look different."

"It's fine,"

An awkward silence falls around you three until Freminet speaks up "So, um how are you adjusting?"

"I'm alright, it's weird switching from the streets to a warm house."

"Tell me about it," Lynette said, "When Lyney and I moved from streets to here we were having trouble sleeping a full 8 hours."

"You lived on the streets?" You're surprised considering how well they've adjusted to high society, being famous magicians and all.

"Yeah, the spot where we met you was actually where we used to sleep. We went back there to show Freminet where we used to live,"

"And he was appalled by the condition we had to go through!" A voice behind them said over dramatically. You pecked over the siblings' shoulders to see Lyney with his hand over his heart like he was wounded.

Lynette rolled her eyes at Lyney and Freminet began to defend himself.

"I-i did not! When did I say this to you?!"

"I heard it at every place we showed you 'Oh poor Lyney and Lynette!' 'They went through such hardship!' "

Lynette scoffs at this "Lyney, stop that,"

He sighed and relaxed his body "I'm only teasing dear sister! I just like teasing our little Freminet." The magician says while pinching the younger boy's cheeks.

"I'm not that much younger than you you know?" He says swatting his brothers hand from his cheek

"Yes, but you'll still be shorter than me," Lyney says with a wink. "Anyways, I came here to grab (Y/n)!"

"Hm? What for?" you ask curiously.

"I am going to assess your fighting skills." You say goodbye to Lynette and Freminet for now and Lyney walks you to the training grounds. This place is filled with all types of weaponry from swords to crossbows. You're sure that this one room would be enough weapons for an army.

"Here," Lyney snaps you out of your trance and hands you a wooden sword. "The first person to step out of the circle loses."

"Hm? What's this for?"

"For your fighting assessment,"

"Nah, I don't need it," You say as you toss the sword to the side. You honestly have no idea how to use it. "I just need nothin' but my bare hand and 2 minutes. I can push you out of the circle."

"Oh my, confident are we? Why? You think I'll get scared?"

"You said it, not me. If it makes you feel safer, you can use a real sword if you want." Even if the sword hits you it not like it would cut you, you have incredibly thick skin that can't be pierced by just any blade. But you weren't gonna tell him that.

"Hehe, the fight begins when I say 'go'." He says ignoring your last statement.

"Three," He gets into a fighting stance.

"Two," You do the same and you bring your fist up.

"One." You take a breath from your mouth.

"...Go."

Lyney rushes fast at you with his sword ready to hit your face. You block with your arm and Lyney's sword lands on your forearm. He attempts to use the sword to push you backward and out of the circle. But you manage to stay in place by grounding your feet.

You lean your arms back and push Lyney away from you. "Impressive I didn't expect this much strength from you." You ignore his comment and decide to attack first this time. You speed towards Lyney he raises his sword expecting you to go for the face but instead at the last second you drop down on your knees and chop the inside of his knees causing him to fall on his knees.

"HA! Got you!" You say as you grab Lyney by his shoulder and walk him out of the circle.

"Impressive!" He said with a smirk.

"I won! That's one point for me!" You say proudly.

"Actually, I won."

"What?! No! I won fair and square I got you to leave the circle."

"Uh-uh," He said shaking his finger at you. "I said the first person to leave the circle loses. And when you decided to drag me out of the circle you also stepped outside of it first. So I won that round!"

"W-what?! That's not fair!"

"It's perfectly fair! Come on let us go again and I won't go as easy on you this time." He said with a wink. "And this time try not to lose unknowingly

"That was a one-time thing!" You bark back at him.

After a bit of Lyney's training assessment, he excused you to go have some lunch. He said he had to practice a magic performance with his twin Lynette and his brother Freminet. The lunch for today was a beat salad, creamy pasta, and a warm slice of bread on the side. But your favorite was the honey packet. And good archons you LOVED this damn packet!

The first day you were here you were sat down in a fancy room with a lady discussing what would happen when you entered the hearth and the rules you would have to follow. Bored by her incessant yapping you looked around the room for entertainment. Your eyes landed on a small pack that came with your tea you had been served. It had words written in yellow lettering on it. You couldn't read so you had no idea what it said. You ripped the thing open and watched as a golden substance leaked out of it. You sniffed it first, it had a sweet and kinda fruity smell to it. You then licked it. The golden substance coated your tongue in a sweet thick coat. You were entranced by the taste.

"Mx. (L/n)?" The woman across from spoke up. "Are you alright?"

You jump up from your seat launching yourself from your seat to the lady across from you. "WHAT IS THIS SUBSTANCE?!" You shove the pocket in her face while the golden syrup drips onto your hand.

The lady jumped back in surprise, "M-mx. (L/n), please calm yourself!"

"I have never tasted anything so amazing in my life." You stared at the small packet as if it hypnotized you.

"It is called honey..."

"Honey..." You sit back down while you keep staring at the golden liquid.

"Yes, can we get back to the matter at hand please? Now, other operatives will..." After that, she talked about some other thing but you could not think about anything else but the honey packet in front of you and took small licks so you could savor the flavor of the packet.

After the meeting, you specifically asked the person serving food every day if they could give you honey packets.

Back at the present time you were enjoying your lunch when other orphans from the hearth entered the cafeteria. To your surprise, they made it a point to sit next to you every day. Specifically Celine and Adrien, (They are not cannon in the games they are oc) Celine is close to you in age while Adrien is one of the adults that have aged out of the orphanage but still works for the fatui.

"Hey, little critter." You feel a hand come down on your head and ruffle your ears. You grumble at the gesture. You look behind you to see Adrien, he's the only one in this place who dose that to you and it annoys you so much.

"Adrien, stop doing that too (Y/n)." You turn back around to see Celine sitting across from you. She also places a book next to her and opens it.

"I would but I how can I leave these cute ears alone without any love." He says as he grabs your ears and shifts them back and forth on your head.

"Hey! Stop that dude!" You finally speak up and swat away his hands from your head.

He sighs dramatically and flops into the seat next to you. "Fine, I'll stop... But just for today." He says with a wink.

A different voice appears across from you "Maybe they'd let you touch them more if you just asked first." Freminet speaks as he places his plate on the table next to Celine.

"Nah, this is more fun." Adrien chuckles.

"Even if you did ask I still wouldn't let you touch them."

"Oh hi, Freminet," Celine greets the boy, "Are Lyney and Lynette on a mission right now?"

"Oh, no I just wanted to sit here today." He said sheepishly. You all continue to eat your lunch with light conversation when you turn to your side to see Lyney looking over the cafeteria when his eyes land on your table. He starts rushing towards the table.

"Shit!" Freminet ducks under the table in a rush.

"Hm? Frem what are you doing?" Celine looks down on him with her mouth full of food.

"Just ignore me! Pretend I'm not here!" He says in a hushed tone.

Just as he says that Lyney appears behind you with Lynette close behind him. "My dear siblings! Have you seen Freminet we need him to serve as a part of our show! And I believe I just saw him over here for a second."

You give him a questioning look and, unintentionally, your eyes go from Lyney's eyes to the ground under the table.

"Thank you (Y/n)!" Lyney says still with his creepy smile on his face.

"Wait what?" You say confused about what you did but then Lyney crouches down and yanks a pair of legs from under the table. He drags Freminet from under the table and hoists him on his shoulders.

"(Y/n) how could you!" He says as he reaches out for you. You watch as Lyney and Lynette exit the room with an unwilling Freminet on his shoulders.

Man, this is a weird ass family.

More Genshin Impact Stories *ੈ✩‧₊˚

More Freminet Stories ₊˚.༄

Sorry I took a small break because I had an exzama break out and couldn't move my arm for 5 days because of the pain. But here is an extra long one for you all! Thanks for reading <3

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serene-sky-kid · 2 months ago

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I wanted to draw without correcting too much and I have some more sketches

The idea of dressing my OCs elegantly, enabled by @mufos-photo-album (I wasn't sure if I should tag you) I wanted to make Orion and Serene but Serene always dresses very fine, so I drew those characters that look like they came out of the dumpster and put fine clothes on them I didn't draw Orion's wings because I didn't know how to put them on (I don't know how to draw men, I ask for help) I love how Reah turned out, what can I say

Serene's pet, I'm still deciding on a name

Hearth again, I always draw him at the same angle xD

#sky children of the light #sky cotl #sky cotl oc #skykid #sky: cotl #sky cotl art #sky: children of the light #skycotl #sereneskykid #hearth #serene #orion #reah

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 11 months ago

Text

Push the Sky Away - Part One

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x original female character (Lorra Stark) Chapter warnings: Angst. Canon typical violence. Mention of loss of virginity. Smut. Word count: ~6.5k

Summary: We are getting to know Aemond in this chapter. Some scene setting and world building, not much to be found of our OC until she is introduced towards the end. Laying the groundwork for what's to come later.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Fire and Blood, the infamous words of House Targaryen. It is a phrase that both haunts and eludes Aemond Targaryen from an early age, with its promise of greatness and constant reminder of all he will never be.

The Targaryen name is the only thing of any value that Viserys has ever bestowed upon his sons. Aemond ponders whether his father’s disinterest in him is a result of the illness that weakens his body by the day, or if he simply has no room in his heart for the children borne of his second marriage. When he watches him interact with Rhaenyra, how he lights up in her presence in a way that he does not for him or his other siblings, he knows it is the latter.

The fireplace warms his skin, uncomfortably so, and despite the septa’s caution that he not sit so close, he refuses to budge. Sweat prickles the back of his neck, dampening and curling the ends of the hair that sticks to it. His discomfort is of little importance to him, he needs to remain within this proximity to the hearth in order to keep his egg warm, to ensure it hatches. It is a vigil he has kept for as long as he can remember, not moving until he is forced to bed with aching joints and soot covered hands. Unable to understand why it had never hatched in his cradle, he is certain that if he does his due diligence then soon he will have a dragon of his own.

His mother is alerted of his disobedience, and Alicent regards him with sadness in her large brown eyes, as she reaches for him.

“Come away, my dearest love, you will have a dragon of your own one day.”

He simply shakes his head. She could not understand. He does not want just any dragon, he wants his. There must be a reason why this particular egg was imparted upon him, otherwise it is all for nothing.

Despite this, day after day the hardened scales remain cool to the touch, little more than a rock between his tiny fingers. Perhaps placing it within the flames themselves will yield the result he hopes for?

He leans forward into the fireplace, heat blazing against his pale cheeks, and an acrid stench fills his nostrils. It is not until he is pulled forcefully back by the firm grasp of the septa that he realises the ends of his long, fair hair have singed, charred and blackened by the heat of the fire.

The egg is taken away after that, and Aemond weeps bitterly at the unfairness of it. It is his birthright, his only birthright, and now his sole purpose for being has been snatched from him; it seems there is little point to his existence now. He never sees the egg again, but he often wonders what would have happened if he had been left uninterrupted to place it upon the flames.

When Aemond is a little older, he begins to frequent the Dragonpit, for what is a Targaryen without their dragon? If he no longer has his own egg then he will find another, or perhaps claim a riderless mount of his own.

The warmth beneath the Grand Sept is different from that of the fireplace. It is dank and humid within the pit, the odour of droppings hangs heavy in the air, mixed with sulphur and ash. The smell sticks to his clothes when he returns to the Keep each evening, and momentarily he feels his chest swell with pride as his mother winkles her nose in disgust at the scent. It is the same look of distaste that she bestows upon both Helaena and Aegon when they return from flying, and for the briefest of moments he can pretend that he has too.

Yet still he goes to bed each evening dragonless, and begins each day anew with the bitter taste of jealousy in his mouth as he watches his nephews, Jacaerys and Lucerys, interact with their dragons, Vermax and Arrax. Targaryens are considered to be closer to gods than men, so it feels like a cruel twist of fate that his half sister’s bastard offspring should be blessed with eggs that hatched in their cradles when his did not. Rhaenyra’s children have the favour of the Seven, whereas they seem to have turned a blind eye to him.

Aemond’s heart soars with hope when the dragonkeepers reveal to his sister that Dreamfyre is gravid. If she produces a healthy clutch of eggs then he can claim one, one that will actually hatch. In spite of the warnings that the she-dragon be left in peace during this sensitive time, and Helaena’s frustrated and repeated requests to stop disturbing her, he cannot resist the pull towards where she roosts within her darkened cave. If she is to lay an egg, then he wants to be the first to see it, to ensure he can take one for himself.

The blistering heat of the flames that Dreamfyre expels with her mighty roar of anger as he approaches yet again causes him to stagger backwards, wide eyed and slack jawed. But Aemond feels no fear as gazes into her fiery maw, his only thoughts are that one day soon a beast of his own will do much the same.

When Aegon claps a heavy hand upon his shoulder, steering him forward, and claiming a dragon has been found for him, he does his best to remain calm. He is used to his brother and nephews’ cruel japes at his expense. But as he stands at the top of the slope to the Dragonpit, he cannot help the way his heart races with excitement at the possibility that it might be true.

His hopes are dashed when a pig is led out to him, trussed up in wings, having been jokingly named “the pink dread”. He bows his head at the raucous laughter of Aegon, Jace and Luke around him, humiliation flushing his cheeks for having dared to believe it could be true.

The echoes of Aegon’s mocking pig grunts ring in his ears all the way home, and he stands dejectedly as Alicent delivers yet another scolding for him having dared to disturb Dreamfyre. He is usually silently accepting of her scorn, confident he knows better, and prepared to defy her all over again the next day. However, this time he can no longer bear the injustice of it all.

“They gave me a pig!” He cries, feeling the prickle of tears in his eyes. “They laughed, they all laughed.”

The warmth of his mother’s embrace does little to comfort the inferno that blazes inside of him. Today is proof of the fact that his own brother does not view him as equal - how could he? Aemond is a second born son and has no dragon. He is worth nothing.

If he is not destined to be a dragonrider, then Aemond decides he will give his all to becoming a fearsome warrior instead. He excels in the training yard with each daily practice, every strike of his wooden sword against the straw stuffed target more ferocious than the last. The proud glint in the eye of Ser Criston Cole as he watches diligently, offering guidance on both stance and technique, serves to spur him on. He will be the best at this, he has to be.

Much to his displeasure, the allotted time for sparring is shared with his nephews. Though they learn under the watchful eye of Ser Harwin Strong, there is still a competitive element, and an underlying sense of animosity between Criston and Harwin that he does not quite understand.

Aegon later tells him it is because Ser Harwin is the true father of Rhaenyra’s children. He feels a smug sense of satisfaction at being privy to this information, and it brings him and his older brother closer together. The two of them share rare moments of comradery each time they don their armour and pick up their practice blades. It’s the only time that Aemond ever genuinely laughs or smiles.

There is an obvious divide from that point onwards, Targaryens uniting against Strongs, and as the tension grows between the boys, it does between their mentors too, until one day it reaches a boiling point.

At first Aemond titters along with his brother as they watch Criston scuffle with Harwin, but his smile quickly fades upon seeing how valiantly their father fights for them, knowing his own would never do the same for him. As he looks up into the solemn features of Aegon, he knows the sentiment is shared. It is yet another privilege that Rhaenyra’s children possess that he does not have; the love of their father.

They journey to Driftmark when they receive the news that Laena Velaryon has passed away in childbirth. The icy, coastal winds that whip Aemond’s hair around his face as the stone coffin is committed to the sea are as bleak as the mood that envelopes them all. He seeks warmth near the brazier, attempting to catch the eye of Jace, who stands on the opposite side. Despite the tension between them, he hopes to offer condolences, knowing the loss of both Ser Harwin and his aunt play heavily upon his nephew’s mind.

He realises it is a futile gesture the moment that Jace turns away in disgust, and once more Aemond is reminded of how alone he truly is, that he has nothing. Luke will inherit Driftmark, and their mother has betrothed Helaena to Aegon. Luke snivels at what he is offered, claiming that when Driftmark passes to him it means everyone will have died. Aegon scoffs at the notion of being married to Helaena, claiming they have nothing in common.

It angers Aemond, to be overlooked in favour of those who are so ungrateful for all they have. If he were set to inherit anything, he would do everything in his power to prove he is worthy of it and bear the title with honour. If his mother had betrothed his sister to him, he would do his duty and ensure the match produces heirs that would make House Targaryen proud.

His attention is drawn to the clifftop when he sees the spread of enormous wings and hears the mighty rumble of the creature atop it. Vhagar. Laena Velaryon’s dragon is now riderless, and the pull he feels towards her is one he simply cannot ignore. At last, he has found his purpose and his desire to claim a dragon is reinvigorated with new strength.

Aemond waits until nightfall. Sea spray has made the rocks slippery beneath his feet, and he ascends carefully, though determined, towards the top of the cliff where Vhagar roosts. Windswept and breathless by the time he reaches the top, he stands awestruck at the sleeping dragon. Even partially submerged in sand, she is a magnificent sight to behold. She had appeared massive when looking at her from above, but it does nothing to prepare him for the sheer scale of her up close. She is gargantuan.

For a moment, icy fingers of fear grip Aemond’s heart, and he considers simply turning back, he has made a dangerous mistake. He shakes the thought from his mind the moment it presents itself.

I am no craven.

His approach is tentative, palms outstretched to communicate that he does not present a threat, as the elderly beast grumbles and shakes sand from her back. He stares transfixed as she opens her jaws, the white hot inferno that swirls within their depths makes that of Dreamfyre’s seem like a mere campfire. He feels as though he is looking into the very mouth of the Seven Hells themselves, but instead of fear Aemond feels kinship. Vhagar is without purpose, as is he, until now.

“Lykirī,” he calls out, the wind carrying half the sound away with it. Yet she hears, and she stills, eyeing the child before her with keen curiosity. Be calm.

Emboldened by her calmness at his command, Aemond steps closer, fingertips ghosting against the heat that radiates from her scales.

“Dohaer��s, Vhagar,” he tells her, voice trembling. This is the same dragon ridden by the great warrior, Visenya, the conqueror’s wife. She is battle hardened, and with the smallest of movements could snuff out his short life. Serve.

The faintest sound of displeasure reverberates through Vhagar’s body, yet she remains still. Aemond’s heart beats wildly in his chest as he grips the ropes attached to her saddle and begins to pull himself up. If he had thought the climb to the top of the cliff difficult, it proves nothing compared to this. His arms ache with exertion, the expanse of the great beast he is attempting to summit is vaster than anything he has ever climbed before.

By the time he pulls himself into the saddle, Aemond’s palms are red raw with rope burn and his skin is damp with perspiration. There is barely time for him to catch his breath though, as the moment Vhagar feels him settle on her back, she rises to her feet, vast quantities of sand slipping from her back and wings in drifts.

The movement startles Aemond, and he fears he will fall. His sore hands cling tightly to her reins as he shouts his final command to her.

“Sōvēs.” Fly.

As she rises into the air with an effortless flap of her wings, he feels as though he has left his stomach on the ground below. The rush upwards is dizzying, frightening and exhilarating all at once. Aemond begins to laugh as he grows used to the weightless sensation of every ebb and flow through the air as it whistles past his ears, and chills his skin to the bone. He is finally complete, he has his dragon, and for the first time in his life he is genuinely happy.

That happiness is short-lived.

The moment he reaches solid ground, his cousins, Baela and Rhaena, are waiting for him, alongside Jace and Luke. He had anticipated this, and is well prepared.

“It’s him!” Rhaena shouts as soon as she sees him.

“It’s me,” he responds calmly, confident there is nothing to be done now that Vhagar is his.

“Vhagar is my mother’s dragon!”

“Your mother is dead, and Vhagar has a new rider now.”

“She was mine to claim!”

“Then you should have claimed her. Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride? It would suit you.”

He is startled when Rhaena angrily charges towards him, though he is bigger than her and pushes her to the ground with ease. A punch from her sister, Baela, catches him off guard, the pain in his face enraging him and causing him to hit back so hard she falls over.

“Come at me again and I’ll feed you to my dragon!” He snarls angrily.

Jace and Luke rush at him, and in a moment of confidence Aemond thinks he has bested the both of them, until all four children knock him down and begin to rain their fists down upon him.

He is the rider of the world’s largest dragon, and his new found confidence coupled with the surge of adrenaline allows him to fight them all back. He grasps a rock, holding it above Luke’s head as he grasps him tightly by the collar.

“You will die screaming in flames, just as your father did. Bastards!” He hisses.

“My father is still alive!” Luke wails.

Aemond smirks, rock still held above his sobbing nephew, and he glances to Jace. “He does not know, does he, Lord Strong?”

Jace unsheathes a dagger, to the protestations of both Rhaena and Baela, and the distraction is enough for Aemond to knock it from his hand. His dedication in the training yard has paid off and he quickly gets the better of Jace, snatching up the rock once more, prepared to bring it down upon his skull should he try to attack him again.

In Aemond’s mind, the matter is settled, they should accept what has happened and retire to bed.

Unfortunately, his nephews do not share the sentiment. He winces, staggering backwards as Jace throws sand in his face, and before he has had time to fully recover, Luke is racing towards him, Jace’s dagger in hand.

The pain is excruciating as his nephew slashes upwards, and suddenly his vision shows blackness on one side, instead of his surroundings. He falls to his knees, a shriek of agony leaving him as blood seeps through the fingers of the hand he clasps to one side of his face.

His only focus is the searing, torturous pain he feels, waves of nausea rippling through his prone body, until a clamour of armour alerts him to the presence of the Kingsguard. As a knight kneels beside him, coaxing his hand away, his pale, horrified expression and exclamation of “Gods be good” are all Aemond needs to know that his face is ruined forever.

The fire in the hall of Driftmark is warm against his skin, and he does his best to focus on that sensation instead of that of the Maester extracting his eye from his skull. Though he has been dosed with milk of the poppy, he still feels every cut, every tug, and the pierce of the needle as it’s pulled through his skin repeatedly to stitch up the wound.

Aemond is unsure if it is the milk of the poppy that dulls his senses, or the satisfaction he feels at having claimed the world’s largest dragon, but he does not feel anger or sadness as he expects he would have when he is told his eye is lost forever.

When his mother snatches a knife and charges towards Rhaenyra, he is certain she has more blood of the dragon coursing through her veins than his coward of a father does. She is willing to risk everything to avenge his disfigurement, while Viserys makes excuses and appears more affronted at his eldest daughter’s children being called bastards. The loss of Aemond’s eye seems of little importance to him.

It is in that moment that Aemond feels the tiny semblance of respect he had for his father wither and die. As he takes in the harrowed expressions of Alicent, Aegon and Helaena, he knows they are all he has left.

“Do not mourn me, mother,” he says softly, rising to comfort her, though unsteady on his feet as he adjusts to his partial sightedness. “I may have lost an eye, but I have gained a dragon.”

A scar mars the flesh of Aemond’s face, but also ravages its way through the Targaryen family. Rhaenyra and her children leave King’s Landing, settling upon Dragonstone with Daemon and his daughters. Meanwhile, the health of Viserys continues to decline and the instances he is not bedridden grow fewer. Aemond does not miss his presence.

Worry hangs over his mother, a permanent shroud of anxiety, while Aegon becomes more debaucherous, sinking further into his cups with each passing day. Helaena retreats deeper into herself, rarely speaking unless spoken to, and bristles at any initiation of physical touch.

Slowly, Aemond heals, though it is not without struggle. He must learn to do everything anew. His favourite books become a chore to read, no longer able to pore over their pages for as long without suffering a terrible ache in his head.

Criston has to begin his training with the sword all over again. There is a newfound blind spot to account for when he fights. Not only does he have to learn how to balance, pivot and wield his weapon with accuracy, he also has to develop hyper vigilance and an acute awareness of where his opponent is at all times, to prevent them from drifting to the side from which he cannot see, and besting him.

Even flying on dragonback is difficult, though he only has one flight to compare it to. He learns fast, and is grateful that Vhagar’s advanced age makes her placid and more forgiving than a younger mount might be. When Aemond is airborne he can almost forget his disfigurement entirely, until he returns to the ground and the world is half blackness once more.

It is enough to make Aemond want to scream in frustration and give up at times. However, he is accustomed to a life of feeling out of place, of having to work harder than everyone else to prove his worth. There is nothing to be gained from a defeatist attitude, so he hardens himself to the challenges he faces, determined to be better with one eye than he was with two.

If his vision of the world is now limited, then he will simply expand his mind beyond that. He loses himself in tomes of history and philosophy, ignoring the dull pain that plagues his skull as he reads into the small hours.

In the training yard, he is quick to learn to keep Criston within his line of sight at all times, and wields his sword viciously, relentlessly, always striving to be faster, stronger, more precise. The proud look upon the Knight’s face means little to him now. The only person he means to prove anything to is himself.

He reasons that a warrior must appear as fearsome as they fight, and takes to wearing a sapphire in the empty socket of his eye, when it is not covered by a patch.

The single matter that Aemond is never able to quite grasp is that of the fairer sex. Aegon has always seemed to have an overly indulgent interest in women, moreso what lies between their legs, but he has never understood his brother’s obsession with fornication. He has read about the mechanics of it in books, and the idea makes his lip curl in disgust. However, he reasons that Aegon is older, and perhaps his own appetite will develop in much the same way as he ages.

Aegon reasons that women’s skin is soft, they smell nice, and when you find one that has the perfect pair of tits and legs then there is little else that matters. While it is agreeable to Aemond that women are indeed more pleasant to look upon than men, he questions why he should not take an interest in their education or how they like to pass the time. His brother argues that once you are sheathed inside a woman, it is not what is in their mind that matters in the slightest.

Upon Aemond’s thirteenth name day, Aegon slaps him on the back and informs him that it is “time to get it wet”. The very idea makes his guts churn with unease, yet he dons the clothes of common folk just the same, pulling a hood over his head, and allows his brother to guide him to the Street of Silk.

The walk through Flea Bottom reeks of urine, with men staggering half drunk through the narrow cobbled streets, while women in varying states of undress beckon them forward into darkened hovels. Aemond keeps his head bowed, dreading what is to come, and is thankful when the establishment that his older brother guides him to looks slightly more respectable than the half a dozen they have passed by already.

The pleasure house is dimly lit and the heady scent of cheap perfume burns his nostrils, though it barely covers the smell of another undesirable stench that he assumes is the byproduct of what goes on here. He half wonders if it will stick to his clothing, much like the smell of sulphur and ash does when he returns from dragonback. He sincerely hopes not.

His throat runs dry when Aegon staggers away with a busty woman, full of giggles, leaving him alone. The brothel’s madame has a kind smile, though it does not meet her eyes, and when she places her hand upon his shoulder it makes him shudder. He feels her touch there like a brand long after she has taken it away.

“Choose any of my girls that you like,” she tells him.

Timidly he eyes all of them. He wants none of them, but how can he say that?

When he hesitates, she chooses for him, pushing him towards a room with a girl that cannot be much older than he is. Her hair is the colour of straw, her skin reeks of the same perfume that lingers thick within the air, and there is wine upon her breath.

The fireplace burns low in the room as he lays upon the bed, and he keeps his eye fixed upon it until it is over. He has enjoyed none of it, the finish feeling little more to him than the satisfaction he experiences when scratching an itch. He cannot understand why Aegon makes such a fuss about it, if that is all there is to it then he never wants to partake in such an act of vulgarity ever again.

He leaves without saying a word, and walks as quickly as his legs will carry him back to the Red Keep. In the bathtub that evening, he scrubs until his skin is red raw, wanting nothing more than to erase every trace of what he has endured that day.

When he is served his favourite meal for his name day feast, roasted haunch of venison, he finds he has no appetite. Sickly perfume fills his nose and turns his stomach, and he leaves his plate untouched.

From that day forth, Aemond decides that he has no taste for depravity, and dedicates his time to reading, training with the sword and taking flight on Vhagar. Despite the nagging ache at the back of his mind that Aegon is set to succeed their father when he passes away, despite neither wanting nor deserving it, he feels a sense of fulfillment in knowing that he is making both their mother and House Targaryen proud.

There are few books in the Keep’s library he has not read at least twice, and he trains daily in the yard with Criston, now at a point where he is the victor in almost every sparring match.

The years pass, and Aemond is content with solitude, assuming that is his lot in life. Fire and blood course hotly in his veins, and in spite of his disfigurement he feels every inch a true Targaryen.

Viserys deteriorates to the point that Aemond’s grandsire and Hand of the King, Otto, now oversees most of the royal duties, and he has begun in earnest to plan with Alicent for Aegon’s eventual coronation. It comes as no shock to Aemond the day that he is beckoned to the Small Council Chamber, though he is surprised to find it is just his grandsire that sits at the table, there is not even a cup bearer present.

“I trust you are aware of the plans to crown Aegon once your father passes?” Otto asks, once Aemond is seated in the chair nearest to him.

Aemond sits up straight against the backrest, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle, as he regards Otto impassively. “I am.”

“Good,” Otto nods, clasping his hands in front of him on the table. “Then I am sure you must know of your own duty to the realm.”

Aemond purses his lips, eyeing the older man carefully. “I will do what I must to ensure Aegon’s claim to the throne goes unchallenged.”

Otto sighs, leaning back and regarding Aemond with a twinkle of amusement in his eye. “Rhaenyra is sure to challenge your brother’s birthright, as your father foolishly named her heir, but there are means to remedy that.”

Aemond says nothing, waiting for Otto to say what he means. He watches as he fills both their wine cups, before setting the jug down. He takes a deep drink from his own, but Aemond leaves his untouched, wishing his grandsire would just get to the point.

Otto clicks his tongue before continuing. “To strengthen Aegon’s claim, we must curry favour with the other Great Houses of the realm.”

Aemond lowers his gaze, fingers drumming absentmindedly on the armrests of his chair. “You wish for me to marry.”

“Yes, Aemond, you are to be betrothed.”

The tone of voice in which Otto says this has such finality, it sounds as though a match has already been decided. His eye flickers upwards to meet the unyielding gaze of his grandsire.

“To who?”

“Your mother and I thought it best not to present you with suitors, we know you would not enjoy such a spectacle.”

You know all of them would take one look at me and be horrified by the very notion of being married to me.

Otto continues, “So we have chosen for you. The daughter of Lord Rickon Stark, Lorra. She is a pretty girl, and having the allegiance of a Great House of the North will weaken Rhaenyra’s claim.”

Aemond stays silent as his mind races.

House Stark. Their sigil is a dire wolf, their words are Winter is Coming.

Beyond that, he knows nothing of Northerners, what could he possibly learn about his betrothed from a book anyway?

He wets his lips, resigned to his fate. “When?”

“She will arrive in King’s Landing in two weeks, so that you can begin your courtship of her.”

“I will do my duty.”

“I trust that you will.”

Aemond retires to his chambers for the remainder of the day. He had anticipated that he would have to marry to form a political alliance at some point, however, the thought rattles him all the same.

He is a solitary creature by nature, what on earth will he do with a wife? He supposes life will stay much the same, if his mother and father and Aegon and Helaena are to be used as examples - both couples married, yet living entirely separate lives. It is a mere formality. He will not be expected to spend time with her.

They will be expected to produce heirs, however. Nervousness swirls in his gut at the thought. He does not want to endure what happened to him at the brothel each time he couples with his wife, yet he cannot leave her childless either.

Lorra is a highborn lady, however, not a common whore, so perhaps he will be able to find pleasure in the act. Doubt niggles in his mind as he ponders his inexperience. A Prince must know what he is doing if he is to produce children, and Aemond possesses neither experience nor interest in the act of procreation. He will need to prepare if he is to perform his marital duties as anticipated without embarrassing himself or his wife.

The thought of returning to Flea Bottom makes him shiver in revulsion. He has no desire to part with coin for an act that sickens him. He will need to find an alternative.

There are plenty of maidservants around the Keep who are pretty enough, and of a similar age to him. He does not wish to be like his brother, however, and will not take what is not freely given. He has observed the way that Aegon expresses interest in the women that attend to them during mealtimes and decides to deploy some of the same tactics, though in a much more subtle manner.

At supper the following evening, he spots a young woman who is pleasing to him. She has a slender neck and pretty face, her large eyes framed by thick lashes. He watches her carefully as she rounds the table, filling each cup with wine, and when finally she approaches him, he deliberately reaches forward, his fingers brushing the soft skin of her wrist as she pours from the jug she holds. She glances down at him and he looks up, holding her gaze, the faintest of smirks on his face. A slight blush creeps up her neck, dusting its way across her cheekbones and he knows she is interested.

He spends the rest of the meal catching her eye whenever he can, and when the evening draws to a close, he lingers in the doorway, beckoning her with the slightest tip of his head when she looks at him, before walking back to his bedchamber. Aemond does not have to wait long for the knock at his door.

“Your grace, will you be needing anything else this evening?” She asks with a polite smile.

He closes the door behind them, steeling himself before turning to face her. “You understand why you are here?”

She nods, reaching up to cup his face as she leans in. He turns away, pulling back slightly.

“I have no need for you to kiss me.”

She nods in understanding and moves towards the bed, slipping out of her clothes. Aemond stands in silence as he watches her disrobe. She is attractive to look at, much more desirable than the girl he had coupled with in Flea Bottom. Smooth skinned, with subtle curves and firm breasts. He wonders how many others have looked upon her in the same manner that he has.

“Lay down,” he instructs her, once she is fully bare before him.

She moves to position herself face down, but Aemond steps forward, halting her actions.

“Let me look at you.”

“As you wish, your grace,” she whispers, blushing again, and repositions onto her back.

Aemond stands over her, his eye raking over her form as he takes in the way her chest rises and falls with every breath, the way the narrowness of her waist expands outwards towards her hips.

Tentatively, he reaches forward, fingers trailing lightly over the plush flesh of her inner thigh, tugging gently.

Obediently, she spreads her legs and he sucks in a breath at what glistens between them, curiosity guiding his actions as he spreads his fingers through the slick folds. She sighs in pleasure, and he looks back up at her face. Her lips are parted, eyes hooded with desire. Admittedly, though this is a much better experience than what he’d endured when he was thirteen, he still feels little in the way of excitement. Aemond appreciates that she lays there quietly, however, allowing him to take things at his own pace, and he feels his body respond to her regardless of his lack of emotion.

When his cock strains almost painfully against the lacings of his breeches, he unfastens them, crawling over the maidservant to cage her body in with his. She feels better against him than the whore had, her skin is more supple and her scent not quite so overpowering. He grunts as he pushes himself inside of her, her tight, wet heat gripping every inch of him as he slides forward.

The inside of her is different from the grasp of his own hand. Aemond is no stranger to the act of self pleasure, using it as a means to clear his mind or lull himself to sleep on nights when rest evades him. It is not a carnal act for him though, he simply focuses on the sensation, guiding himself to release. Despite the pleasant warmth of her body, he does not feel driven to desperate passion as he had anticipated, as he has so often heard Aegon describe.

As he rocks his hips into hers, back and forth, the growing ache he experiences is nice enough, but it does not light a fire within him. He is simply rutting against another person. The dulcet sounds that fall from her lips as he pistons into her sound too performative, and he feels resentment as he looks upon her face, just wanting to put an end to it.

He speeds up, and her sounds grow louder. Annoyance prickles at his skin.

“Shut the fuck up,” he hisses.

She falls silent and the room fills with the sound of the slap of his skin against hers, until finally he spills inside of her with a quiet gasp. He is quick to withdraw from her, standing and tucking himself away.

“You can go now,” he tells her, turning away.

He doesn’t watch as she dresses and quietly leaves his chamber. Aemond feels disappointment that he is unable to derive pleasure from such a carnal act. He has read that it is supposed to evoke excitement within a person, and from the way Aegon behaves he knows it is certainly true. So why does such a feeling evade him?

It matters not, he supposes. He will treat his wife in the same way he has the maidservant this evening. He will not take her by force, and he will be gentle with her. The act will be for the sole purpose of producing heirs, besides that they will live their lives as they please. He did not choose her, and she did not choose him, so he is confident that this will be an arrangement she finds satisfactory.

The next two weeks pass by without incident. Aemond reads, he trains and he flies, and thoughts of his betrothal scarcely enter his mind.

Upon the day of Lorra’s arrival to the Red Keep, he gathers in the Great Hall, with Alicent, Otto, Aegon and Helaena to greet her upon her arrival. He stands straight, hands clasped firmly behind his back, eye scanning the room impatiently. He hates the formality of it all, and wonders what could possibly be taking such a long time.

He will, of course, be dutiful and stand here for as long as necessary, but irritability simmers within him as he exhales heavily through his nose, wishing to be anywhere else right now, the library, the training yard, on dragonback. Such a display seems wholly unnecessary for an arrangement that is a mere formality.

When finally the doors open to the steps that ascend into the Hall, he faces forward, eye fixed upon the Kingsguard that file in. Until he sees her.

Draped in a cerulean cloak, trimmed with grey fur, she seems as though she is floating, rather than walking as she approaches. Her ivory skin is tinged with the faintest of pink against her cheeks and the curls of her ebony hair are braided down her back.

Aemond’s throat runs dry, his heart pounding quickly against his ribcage, and he realises he is holding his breath. The last time he felt such a powerful combination of fear, awe and longing had been the night he had first laid eyes upon Vhagar. It unsettles him, and he is grateful that his hands remain behind his back, otherwise he is certain that she would be able to see how they tremble.

“Lady Lorra of House Stark,” comes the announcement to the Hall, but it sounds distant and far away to Aemond as he stands, transfixed by her.

His blood pumps like liquid fire through his veins. Her eyes, so blue they could almost be sapphires, meet his and he feels a shiver run through him. After a lifetime of resonating in the warmth of flames, he is chilled by the ice that is reflected back at him.

Chapter two || Series masterlist

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this-lovely-universe · 3 months ago

Text

My OC's and their issues

I'm extra (and bored) so we got pictures and options

Funny ones:

Serious ones:

try it for yourself? (You don't have to be as extra as me tho)

@arisdaughter @childofthewargod @damiedantediane @kaiaalwayswins

@that-girl-cupid/@that-girl-cupid-2 @delilah-isnt-dead-yett @daonedaonlyskh

@aria-pane @poseidons-hyperactive-kid @wine-cooper @i-am-persephones-daughter @unhinged-waterlilly

@demigod-jack-hearth @seed-of-the-pomegranate @you-know-you-want-me @istglevi-gotmesimping

@if-chaos-was-a-boy @ariathemortal @i-was-never-sane @gaygirldoodles

If you want to be added, removed or if I forgot to tag you, let me know :)

#brook has entered the chat #finley needs your attention #anastasia says hi #camp half blood #pjo roleplay #percy jackson #pjo #pjo rp #percy jackson oc #percy jackson rp #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackon and the olympians #percy pjo #percy series #pjo series #pjo fandom

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agendabymooner · 1 year ago

Text

heaven ! fernando a. x ofc (mom!professional wrestler!canadian!ofc)

"i don't know how heaven could be better than this."

summary: everyone's talking about the hearth sisters, lester and their partners. but what about the original F1 it couple of the 2000s? OR beatrice anastasia 'trish' alonso is the only woman who can balance out fernando alonso's insanity with her calmness, and she happens to be the grid's crush of the season.

content warning: fluff, mentions of mclaren fernando, dad!fernando, family-centric (ish), possible use of explicit language, badly translated spanish, tim hortons references, 2023 canadian gp, f1 drivers are down bad, petty fernando at the very end, using 'trish stratus' (the actual ring name of the wrestler) as the ring name of oc

note: was writing third part of my max verstappen thing, worked on cmyc for a minute, thought about nando and that photo with the models, made these posts, had a breakdown. bon appetit xx

masterlist

2018 ROYAL RUMBLE - TRISH STRATUS TALKS ABOUT COMING BACK TO THE RING AS A WOMEN'S ROYAL RUMBLE ENTRANT

[1st image: i've definitely missed being in the ring. for the past few years i've been working back and forth in spain and canada- where my yoga studio is. i've been watching my husband, fernando, race throughout the years and we've been taking the kids along whenever we could.]

[2nd: i've told him (fernando) at some point that i've missed being out there and wrestling. months before, hunter (triple h) called me and wondered if i'd like to be a part of... this. i had never been so happy to hear that they want me to be a part of this very important event that will impact women's history at the professional wrestling industry. now here i am, participating in the first women's royal rumble.]

[3rd: it's been an eye opener for me, to be honest. i've met many women that are new here- some of them apparently grew up watching me alongside stephanie mcmahon and lita and the other ladies. i had never been this happy nefore because we never had the same platform as men - and back then, it wasn't as diverse in the women's division. so for me to be a part of this, so far, has been an absolute privilege. i will never ever waste any time spent here.]

[4th: my husband was more excited than i was *laughs*. throughout his break, he did everything a supportive spouse would have done. he took the kids to watch me train, we often did our workouts and yoga together, he was actually the one who suggested i wore these ring gears. he's highly excited to see me in the ring tonight - he even wore an old trish stratus merchandise that he bought years ago.]

[5th: he's supposed to be in uk for his sim racing practice, but he phoned me few days ago telling me that he was already flying in with our kids - one of which is a six month old - from spain. he said that "he didn't want to miss out on his wife making history again." so... here i am! making history with the most talented women in wwe, as my fernando wanted.]

2016 AUSTRALIAN GRAND PRIX - POST-RACE INTERVIEW WITH FERNANDO ALONSO

[1st image: i know that my mom and my wife are watching the tv, so i got out quite quickly.]

[2nd: trisha has been calling me every hour to see if i'm okay. i keep telling her that i'm okay but she doesn't believe me for one bit- i was like "what do you want me to do???" *laughs* but i am flying back to canada as soon as i can because i miss her and our son.]

[3rd: it's not the first time that has happened to me but now i know i have to make it out of such situation because i have a family. our son, frederico, is only 2. i still want to see him and his many siblings grow up, you know? this is the first time i've been scared (enough) because i promised to take him swimming when we go back to spain. so, yes. i would like to get out of australia as quickly as possible so i can rest with my wife and our son.]

tagged fernandoalo_oficial, lance_stroll, astonmartinf1

liked by tillywolff, estebanocon, carlossainzjr

user1 OMG !!! frederico was so little back then 😭

user2 what grade even is frederico in?

thetrishalonso fifth grade! he's turning 10 soon 🥰

astonmartinf1 when freddy and rey dressed for the occasion 💚 liked by thetrishalonso

thetrishalonso of course, green = lucky 🍀

user3 word on the street is that the drivers were drooling over you 😭 can you please confirm? landonorris pierregasly lance_stroll charles_leclerc

oscarpiastri "the source is i made it the fuck up" -user3

yukitsunoda0511 not true 👎

user3 oscarpiastri yukitsunoda0511 i literally didn't ask either of you 💀💀

user4 f1 drivers are obvious and down bad 🙅‍♀️

georgerussell63 thanks for visiting the mercedes garage! it's been a pleasure 😊

user5 oh no they're piling up...

carlossainzjr frederico y reyna estan bien grandes ahora! liked by thetrishalonso

thetrishalonso estoy tan preocupada de que lleguen a ser más altos que yo y su papá.

landonorris thank you for the selfie! i really liked spending time with you and the mini alonsos 😇

lance_stroll thank you so much for the iced capp this weekend! it definitely helped! liked by thetrishalonso

thetrishalonso of course, sweetheart 😘 anything for the aston martin crew!

mickschumacher the everything bagel was very good, thank you so much! teach us how to do the stratusfaction next time!

nyckdevries thank you for introducing tim hortons to us 🙃

estebanocon thank you so much for the timbits 😊 lance failed to be a canadian to us and never got us any the last canadian gp

schecoperez ¡encantado de verte, beatrice!

user6 she got the whole grid on a leash 😭 so girlboss of her

alo_oficial estoy tan feliz de que tú y los niños estuvieran aquí. te quiero mi reina 😍😍 liked by thetrishalonso

thetrishalonso love you too, mi hombre guapo 🥰

tagged thetrishalonso

liked charles_leclerc, pierregasly, landonorris

user1 LMAO YALL NEED TO APOLOGIZE TO FERNANDO 🤣

user2 fernando's bout to enter his dts villain era once more 😭

pierregasly very pretty! 😍

user3 not you having the audacity 🤠

landonorris so fine 🤪

user4 why are y'all asking for your death wish 😭😭

user5 fernando's on his way to wipe half of the grid, thanos style 🤌🥰 as he should

thetrishalonso you're going to have to work hard first then we'll talk babies 3,4 and 5 😘😜 liked by fernandoalo_oficial

fernandoalo_oficial challenge accepted, mi amor

user6 ugh parents 😫 if you need a dog hmu

translations !!! (what i wrote down in the translating app 💀)

frederico y reyna estan bien grandes ahora! = frederico and reyna are so big now!

estoy tan preocupada de que lleguen a ser más altos que yo y su papá = i'm so worried that they'll grow taller than me and their papa

¡encantado de verte, beatrice! = nice seeing you, beatrice!

estoy tan feliz de que tú y chicos estuvieran aquí. te quiero mi reina = i'm so happy you and the kids were here. i love you my queen

mi hombre guapo = my handsome man

solo mi esposa, frederico y reyna, y sus muchos más hermanos por venir = just my wife, frederico and reyna, and their many more siblings to come

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