#i would pull up to my blog and reblog the SHE IS NOT HIS DAUGHTER SHE IS NOT HIS SISTER SHE IS NOT HIS MOTHER image

[tunacocina]

i really dont miss qsmpblr during purgatory. i dont. but theres something to be said for that unique high of posting an okay-ish shitpost after avoiding posting about discourse all day while three of your mutuals get in a vagueposting war and two people unfollow you for some character interpretation. and also at the same time gaining followers for continuing the yuriposting grind through it all. like that was such an energizing feeling. i would not go back but i do hold a special place in my heart for it in a trainwreck way. but theres a reason why qtinya is privated now. some things can be left to rest...🙏

[clovercap]

unsaid

2.1k

note: hellooo! this is my first post on this blog and i hope you enjoy ˊᗜˋ i want to make this a series so pls let me know what you think, send me asks, and reblog and like if you enjoyed it!! thank you so much for reading ˘³˘

pairing: bsf!rafe and bsf!y/n

summary: rafe may or may not have feelings for y/n, and there's a confession of sorts

warnings: this is 18+. drug mentions and alcohol use.

“Did you know that Sarah broke up with Topper?” You say, your eyes darting to Rafe through the mirror. He’s laying on your bed, holding his phone over his face as he did…whatever it was he did on his phone. It certainly wasn’t answering texts, because you swear he’d leave you on delivered for years if you didn’t call him. 

His gaze meets your through the mirror, as you continue fiddling with your necklace. He drops his phone on the bed and sits up on his elbows, his face knitting in confusion. 

“Wait—what?” 

You nod, your lips curling inwards as you occasionally meet his gaze in the mirror.

“Yeah, she told me last night. Said he got pissed at her for not wanting to give it up.” You scoff.

“Okay, first of all, I don’t wanna hear that shit about my sister—” 

You roll your eyes, turning to face him. “Okay, I literally just said she didn’t have sex—”

“No. No, no, no, no,” Rafe’s voice raises slightly. 

He’s not actually upset, you know that, but to anyone else it would certainly seem like it. 

“No,” he continues, and you can’t help but crack a smile at his disdain. “Don’t say that again, please. And second of all, why would Topper do that? Doesn’t seem like him.”

You purse your lips and Rafe sits up on your bed, his legs hanging off the edge. Of course he would rather find fault in his sister rather than his friend. Any chance he had at putting Sarah down, he would do so.  Ward’s influence was heavy, and his disappointment in Rafe even heavier. You would be blind to not recognize the obvious favoritism that Ward shows his daughter. 

You sigh. “It is totally something Topper would do. He’s gotten mad about it like a million times, ‘cause he’s desperate for—” 

You cut yourself off, not wanting to mention Sarah’s sex life. Again. “Listen, I’m not saying he’s this horrible person, Rafe, but that’s fucked up of him.” 

Rafe just presses his lips inward. “You might be right, but I don’t—I don’t wanna talk about this anymore. It’s grossing me out.” 

You roll your eyes again, turning back to the mirror to take yourself in. “Fine,” You look back at Rafe. “How do I look?”

“Fine.” He says, disinterested eyes flickering over your form.

That was the most you’d get from him. A ‘fine’ in Rafe’s world was a ‘great’ in yours. You smile and start putting on your shoes. 

“Why is Kelce even having this party again?”

“Because,” You drag the word out slipping on your sneaker. “His parents are out of town and it’s summer.  You’re asking like you need a reason to party.” You tease, standing straight. 

His lips quirk up ever so slightly. He hates how you know him so well, but he can’t help the way his heart skips everytime you show it.

“True,” Rafe shrugs. He stands and slips on his own shoes. “Shots before we go?” 

You laugh and walk to your closet, pulling out the bottle of tequila you keep hidden in the corner. You uncap it and take a swig, your face twisting at the harsh burn spreading down your throat. He takes it from your hand as you wipe the corner of your mouth, your body involuntarily shuddering. 

He chuckles, taking a sip of his own, barely reacting as he passes it back to you. 

“You’re such a lightweight.” He grins, watching as you hide the bottle back in your closet. 

“Maybe because I’m not 200 pounds, over six feet tall, and a man.”  You roll your eyes. 

“Hey, Ruthie can down five times more shots than you can. It’s not just about size.” He teases, following you out of your house. 

“Sue me for saving money, I guess.” You huff as the two of you walk down the street, the setting sun casting a glow on the pavement. 

You try not to think about how Rafe knows that about Ruthie. She was in your friend group after all, but you and Rafe had spoken about your shared distaste for her. You shook your head. If Rafe simply talking about another girl got under your skin, you knew you had to mentally prepare yourself for tonight, when he was bound to flirt with or even hook up with some random tourist or kook. 

You knew why you were jealous. Your affection for Rafe had grown into something much less freindly over the years you’ve known him. But you’d never say anything. He was your best-friend. One of the most stable relationships you’ve ever had, and Rafe was notoriously unstable, so that was saying something. He was your rock, and you couldn’t imagine loosing him because of some stupid feelings.

The walk to Kelce’s was fast, but the increasing absence of the sun was giving you goosebumps. Before you realize what’s happening, Rafe’s right next to you, his arm around your shoulders, and his hand rubs the top of your arm. “Cold?” He asks. 

It’s things like this that confuse you. His affection was rarely given out, but recently, he’s been doing things like… whatever this was. 

“Kind of,”  You lean into him. “I think I just need to drink more.”  

You can tell he’s grinning, even though you aren’t looking up at him. “I think so too. We should get fucked up tonight.” 

You nod in agreement. “Oh, we will.” 

When you get to Kelce’s house, he drops his arm, and a feeling of emptiness wells up in your chest before you push it down. You walk in, and he’s behind you for only a second before someone pulls him away. 

You’re used to that, so your eyes dart around for someone you know, but before you can find anyone, Rafe’s back at your side again. 

“Sorry,” He says, leaning down just enough so you can hear him over the pounding music and chatter. “Dan thought I had shit with me tonight.” 

You look up at him. “You don’t?”

You try not to act too suprised, but you know he can read it all over your face. It was true, he usually did have coke, and sold it (and did it) at parties like this, but not tonight. It was also somewhat shocking considering that just the other day Ward had ripped into him, again, about getting his life together, being irresponsible; the usual flaws he found in his son.

Rafe had rarely divulged any details, as per ususal, but you could tell it was bad. Especiallly considering he had called you at 10 P.M. and just took you for a drive in his car. Not to talk about it, or go anywhere in particular, but to just be with you. He did that sometimes.

“No, I don’t.” He says simply, jaw clenching. 

He didn’t feel like talking about it, but he knew you would want him to. Sure, you wouldn’t say anything. But you would look at him a certain way that told him you wanted to know more. He hated how it usually worked, and he ended up saying something to you he didn’t plan on telling anyone. 

It was strange, how you were able to get him to talk with just a look. It was also strange to him that you cared enough to want to know. Well, he knew why you cared. You were best-friends. Recently though, he’s been feeling…strange, around you. There was just something about you that made him think about you all the time. But he doesn’t know what that means, and he sure as hell doesn’t want to find out. 

You smile slightly. “Let’s get a drink.”

He sighs in relief as he follows you to the kitchen, grateful you changed the subject. Truthfully, he didn’t want to be coked-up tonight. It always made his chest do that weird achy thing when you saw him like that. 

You resign yourself to one more shot and a seltzer for the night. Partially because you were anxious that if you were around him while you were excessively drunk, you might say something about how you’ve been feeling, and you coudn’t have that. 

Rafe, however, was throwing back shots and shotgunning beers like there was no tommorow. Maybe it was because of him and Ward’s conversation, maybe it was because he just wanted to party. Or maybe it’s because everytime you get a little too close to him his palms start sweating. He’s not totally sure. 

The party rages on, and Rafe sticks by your side most of the night, talking to other people, or playing pong, but he disappears a few hours in and you find yourself with some girls from school.  They’re all talking about Sarah and Topper’s breakup, but your mind wanders to earlier that night when Rafe and you played a game of pong. 

Some guy had come up after the two of you had won and asked you to play. While you were politely declining, Rafe’s hand found its way around your waist. Like you were his. You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the delusions you allowed yourself to create when he did those things.

You eventually got bored, and left the group of girls, meandering around the party to find where Rafe had gone. You do a lap, and he’s nowhere to be seen, so you walk out on the front porch for some air, only to find him sitting on the porch swing. 

“Hey,” You smile, walking up and sitting next to him. “Why’re you out here?’

He looks over at you, and his eyes are glazed over, a signature look that tells you for certain; he’s plastered. He grins lazily as you sit down. 

“Needed some air.” He says, staring at you. 

You tilt your head, and as you're about to ask why, he speaks up. “I looked for you.”

“I was by the staircase, like, the whole time.” You can’t help but crack a smile at his obliviousness. 

“Oh,” He nods, eyes flickering in recognition. “I missed you.”

You let his words wash over you, and you suddenly feel hot.

“I missed you too. But I’m here now.” You smile softly. He smiles back, and looks out at the neighborhood. 

“You’re here,” He nods, like he needs to repeat it to know for sure. Then he looks back at you, with something in his eyes. 

“Whenever I need you, you’re there, and I always need you," He scoffs like he wishes he didn't. "You’re like—it’s like I can breathe when you’re around, you know? And when you aren’t here, I just like…” He trails off, but makes a clutching motion at his chest. “It all comes back.”

I can breathe when you’re around.

You almost stop breathing at his words. They hit you like a train, and you feel like the Earth had stopped spinnning on it’s axis. He always needs you? How the fuck were you supposed to repond to that?

“Well, I guess I can never leave then.” You say, forcing yourself to smile like it was a joke. Because he can’t be serious. Can he?

He just looks at you, and rubs his chest with his knuckles, like it’s physically hurting him. But then he drops his hand back into his lap, and he smiles, tilting his head slightly, like he had just processed your words. 

He had just laid himself bare in front of you, and you suddenly felt a wave a guilt wash over you. You couldn’t be what he needs. You can’t even be honest with him about how you feel. 

You furrow your brows and look towards the street for a moment, trying to gather yourself. He wasn’t asking for help. No, he was just…telling you how he felt. You knew that. But it scared you, the weight of his words. How could you ever be enough for him? How could you be what he needs? 

You take a deep breathe and school your face into something soft, and look back at him. He’s still looking at you, but he’s miles away. 

“That’s…” You trail off, grabbing his hand. “I’ll always be here for you. Seriously. I need you, too.” 

He looks down at your intertwined fingers and squeezes your hand. He doesn’t say anything in response, and he loosens his grip. You pull your sweaty hand back into your lap as you both look towards the flickering street lamps. 

“Yo!”

Your heads turn in unison to the front door, where Kelce had just burst out of. 

“You guys need to see this shit, Top’s gonna drink the bitch cup.” He grins, panting. 

“Fuck, yeah.” Rafe stands, a bit wobbly and laughs, following Kelce inside, leaving you on the porch without a glance back at you. 

Like he hadn’t just flipped your world around. 

[rakiah]

i just want to to let you know that it was your art of vil with kid jack and leona with kid epel for that single parent leovil fic that really pulled me into leovil. i stumbled upon it by chance when scrolling through a vil blog and saw it reblogged and LOST MY DAMN MIND. particularly baby wolf jack. cause why am i now putting together an epic the musical/odyssey/illiad au for leovil?? (your art. your art is why) itll probably never escape my docs but. so far??

helen and penelope. cousins and princesses of sparta--their dads are brothers and co-ruled. penelope's mother was a water nymph (naiad, so freshwater) whereas helen was the daughter of zeus......soooo.....HEAR ME OUT!!!!!!

neige as helen. vil as penelope. now, i was originally gonna go the rkvl route, because that line in the challenge, when penelope tells the suitors she will marry whoever "can string her husbands old bow and shoot through 12 axes cleanly"--smth her husband odysseus was only able to do, well, a rkvl version of that could go SO HARD.

esp cause like, idk i could just give rook a random kingdom, cause yes, leona is a prince, but technically falena would be king. and i thought of making them menelaus (leona) and agamemnon (falena) with VIL as helen, i mean, come ON!!!!!! it would be SO GOOD!! but odysseus and penelope's story was just tugging at my heart, and i couldnt decide. until i realized that actually this is a fic and it doesnt have to be a 1 to 1 substitution, i can play around and do whatever i want.

(and jack as little wolf telemachus is everything. and neige as helen, both "fairest of them alls" and cursed via apple??? i love it)

sooooo. im thinking.

vil and neige are cousins, princes of. pyroxene? or maybe pyroxene would be made up of a few kingdoms....hmmmmm...idk yet. regardless, their parents' co-rule their kingdom. but neige is the actual heir of the throne. this could be because vil is technically illegitimate. eric had no wife, he just really wanted to be a dad. and so vil's mother, for purposes of this, is either a vampire or a water nymph, or some sort of enchantress, idk, but regardless, vil isnt going to inherit. (also read @pinkbeeps sympathy for the villain fic and lost my mind over it so, yeah, crewel is a vil dad, so at some point when vil and neige are 7 and 6 respectively, crewel and eric get together.)

meanwhile, sunset savannah was split by a civil war? or a revolt of some kind. leona and falena stop it, but part of the truce that is made is that falena cannot rule all of it. so the elephant graveyard half, and some surrounding land makes up what becomes leona's kingdom. why? idk.

then, when neige is like, 17, vil 18, and leona 20, its decided that neige should get married, so all the suitors from various kingdoms come. cause, heir to the throne. and fairest of them all. falena, who is now married himself and has cheka, suggests leona go, but leona isnt rlly looking to get married. falena bugs him abt it tho, and leona still isnt for the marriage thing but rationales that princes and infleuntial people from all over will be vying for neige's hand. leona can go, but not for purposes of throwing his hat in the ring, (neige is an heir and leona has a kingdom to take care of--neither of them would leave their respective homes) but rather, to make connections to better help his people.

and then he meets vil. guy is SMITTENNNNNNN from the get go, he's like, whoever was giving out the fairest of them all titles, did they like, not see you???? heLLO??????

vil is warming up to leona, but also, lets be real, vil has an insecurity abt being a backup, second option when it comes to neige. he would have been wary considering leona is here in technicality as a suitor for neige. but it becomes apparent leona was not here for that in acuality. cause leona, in true oddysseus fashion, does not even bring a wedding gift, guy was just here to network and then fell in love.

it goes as the story always does. neige's parents are worried abt the influx of suitors and wondering how to choose without angering one kingdom over the other. and leona is like, hey i got a solution, but if you want it, you gotta put in a good word for me with vil's parents, your brother and BIL, and you gotta convince them that its okay if vil marries. and theyre like DEAL.

leona proposes his solution--the oath made by all suitors to defend neige and whoever he chooses if a rival ever takes neige away. they would march against the offender and destroy their city.

neige's parents are like damn thats brilliant and then talk to eric and crewel. who put forth a test for leona to pass. he does.

they marry, leona's wedding gift to vil, the living olive tree bed he makes himself, and they have jack and epel, idk how, surrogates? adoption? not sure. but then, the apple, neige is taken away, and that oath comes back to bite leona in the ass. he pretends he's crazy to dodge the draft but baby jack gets tossed in front of the plough and leona saves them, and is forced to go to war etc etc. they win, and then it takes him FOREVERRRR to get home, and then--well we know how it goes!

wow. sorry for just. dumping this in your ask box. i was just trying to appreciate your art and i ended up dropping the au inspired by your art in here. oops

Alright, let’s process step by step cause this ask just made me go wild when I read it. /p

[deep breath]

First, thank you very much! 💕 It’s always a delight to know that more people are into leovil because of me 8D I feel like a priest in Age of Empires (big old ref here ha ha)

Second, your Epic/ Odysseus/ Illiad AU.

I was flabbergasted cause, a few days ago I saw a new leovil fic about Epic the Musical (yes, I do have an open tab of Ao3 on my phone with the leovil tag that I refresh almost every night. When I say I have an otp, I have an otp.) and, since the name rings vaguely a bell, I asked my theater kid friend about this Musical. I just wanted to listen to it before reading the fic and then, I understood Epic the Musical.

AND

YOU CAME.

:’D

I take that as a sign.

Thank you for sharing those thoughts, that was great! I wish you the best for your AU and hope you write it and maybe post it! Otherwise, it’s fine! No pressure of course, I’m already glad with your ask! x3

Anyway, here for you. I couldn’t help sketching those. They imposed themself. Literally.

Pretty sure Vil’d start to poison the suitors too.

[motorsportbarbie13]

The Princess & The Pilot - Part 2

In which Lando surprises you.

Warnings: nothing (mostly fluff. angst if you squint and are sensitive at the end ig) Pairing: Lando Norris x British!Princess!Reader Word Count: 3.5k

The Princess & The Pilot - Part 1 Master List

(this should go without saying but don't steal my work. you don't have permission to repost or translate or do ANYTHING other than reblog my work straight from my blog. kthanksbyeeeeeee)

positivelynottheprincess (private) posted

positivelynottheprincess new hair. new dress. lets get this (awards) party started yourbff MA'AM (respectfully) princecharming mum is going to have a fit over the back of that dress >>>positivelynottheprincess that's why she's not going to see it til I walk into the gala BROTHER. ladykensingtonpriv Windsor genes never miss >>>positivelynottheprincess miss your face. leave monaco and come back to me bby. >>>ladykensingtonpriv come visit meeeeeee!

“Mate, you’re drooling.” Oscar swipes playfully at Lando’s chin while shaking his head. 

Lando swats at his teammates hand without tearing his gaze away from where you stand across the room talking to a middle-aged woman and her daughter.

"I'm sorry but it's kind of hard not to when she's over there looking like that. I mean, Jesus Christ." He hisses, sliding his eyes off of you and over to Oscar. Lando spotted you the moment he had walked into the large ballroom Saturday like you were a siren calling to a doomed sailor. Your hair was pulled back into a neat bun and the backless black satin dress you wore should really be illegal it looked so good. He was almost certain that if you were to cut yourself right then, you'd bleed royal blue.

"You're asking for trouble." Oscar warns, his eyes darting between Lando beside him and you across the room. "With the way you go through women, maybe pursuing an actual real life princess isn't the best idea."

Lando's head whipped back around to really glare at Oscar this time. "The fuck you mean, 'the way I go through women?"

The Australian levels a look at his British counterpart, brows raised as if to say 'you're really asking me that question?' and Lando blushes.

"Okay, fine. Maybe you're right but there's something different about her. We really hit it off earlier in the week."

Ever since the event a few days ago, Lando hadn't been able to get his mind off of you, the way you laughed as he took the car around the corners just a little too sharply, the way your smile lit up a room and everyone around you was just magnetically drawn to you. It was intoxicating just being near you and even though Lando had only spent a few moments in your presence, he was already craving his next hit.

"Well, don't look now but I think she's finally spotted us."

Lando and Oscar had arrived about twenty minutes ago and you had almost immediately noticed the driver's arrival. It was like the mood in the room shifted when he came through the door, a low burning fire stoking itself inside your belly the moment you laid eyes on him. If it hadn't been for the fact that you had been in the middle of a conversation with one of the award winners and her mother, you would have made a beeline to him, but your upbringing had taught you better.

As soon as you excused yourself from the conversation, you began scanning the room, knowing exactly who you wanted to see before the dinner started. Had you known Lando was going to be here, you would have pushed Sebastian a little harder with the seating arrangements and gotten yourself sat at the McLaren table.

The hum of hundreds of voices is just a faint noise in the back of your mind as you approach Lando and Oscar, who are both standing against the bar on one side of the room. Your dress swishes at your feet as you walk towards them and you silently thank Tilly, your stylist, for insisting on the backless black dress you were wearing tonight. You had originally wanted to go with something a little more conservative but Tilly was always giving you more bolder suggestions, insisting that despite you being a princess you were still a young woman with a 'banging body', as she put it, and deserved to show it off a little, even at official engagements.

"Lando!" You croon as soon as you're within earshot. Breaking all sorts of protocol rules, you accept the hug that Lando offers, sinking into the heat of his body when he wraps his arms around you. "I didn't think you were going to be able to make it. Zak said you were busy."

Pulling back, you're mesmerized by the bright blue green eyes the color of the Mediterranean Sea for a moment as you grin at him.

Lando shrugs, not wanting to admit that he had refused to come until he found out you were going to be here tonight. "Last minute cancelation so I got to come bug Osc for the night." He grins that little cheeky grin you've noticed he's so fond of.

"And here I thought you were coming just to see me again." You feign offense, but a smirk plays at the corner of your red lips.

The blush that blooms across Lando's tan face has you biting back a giggle. "Oh...well..." He stutters. Beside him, Oscar chuckles.

Before Lando has a chance to recover further, your brother steps on stage to begin the awards. With a wink aimed at Lando, you excuse yourself, telling the two drivers you'll find them after the awards.

The dinner goes off without a hitch and before you know it, your brother is saying his closing remarks and thanking everyone for coming. You have to do your 'closing duties' as Sebastian calls them and stand by his side near the doors to say goodbye as your guests leave. The fact that you hadn't had a chance to see or talk to Lando since before the dinner and awards weighs on you and you hope that you're able to catch him before he leaves.

You're chatting with one of the winners when you catch sight of a certain curly haired mullet that makes your pulse quicken. He's hovering near the bar alone, Oscar and Zak nowhere in sight. Once you're able to excuse yourself, you make your way over to where he stands. The way Lando watches you as you approach sends a shiver of anticipation shimmering down your spine.

Lando has spent the last fifteen minutes after saying good bye to Oscar and Zak just watching you. Watching the way you worked a room was one of the most impressive things he'd ever seen. The way you're totally engaged in conversation no matter who it is is something Lando's never really seen before and he craves watching you. He notices other things though, slight shifts in your expression as you move from one person to another. It's in the way your shoulders hitch up towards your ears a bit when you're not speaking to someone like you're tired or the way your eyes glaze over ever so slightly when you're listening to someone talk for a long time. If he hadn't been watching you like a hawk, he would have never noticed but it was so slight and so subtle that he was sure no one but him caught on.

Suddenly, Lando wanted to take you away from all of it. He could tell your mask was solidly in place and that you were good at what you did but that didn't matter to him. Just the thought of you being uncomfortable or anxious made him feel the same. You were so good at making others feel comfortable and were authentic with your care and attention but he knew that there was a bit of you, deep down, that didn't want to be here. That craved the quiet respite of a dark room and soft music. He knew that because he felt it too, more often than he cared to admit. Lando felt that the two of you had more in common than he first had realized.

"Waiting for me?" You flirt, leaning against the bar as the bartender pours you another glass of white wine. You're past your two drink limit that is customary for you at these kinds of events but the heady buzz it gives you while you talk to Lando is too tempting.

"Well, you did promise you'd find me after." There's that mischievous glint in his eye again.

"Did I?" You counter, enjoying the way it feels to have his entire attention on you. The heat curling in your belly tells you that you'd like to have more of his undivided attention on you, in private this time.

Lando nods, taking a sip of his beer. "I never forget the things a pretty girl says to me." He murmurs, taking a subtle step closer to you. The fact that you're this close to him in public, with your brother just across the room, doesn't escape your notice but you find it particularly hard to care, what with the way Lando keeps staring at your lips every time you speak.

"I'm sure you say that to all the girls."

"Only the ones I can't stop thinking about." Lando's voice drops an octave, the husky tone scraping roughly against your skin.

The blush that creeps up your neck and over your cheekbones nearly sends Lando into a tailspin.

For someone who spends a majority of her time speaking to people and making conversation out of nothing, you're rendered speechless at the way this man looks at you. You're not used to someone being so bold with their intentions as people are intimidated by who you are and who your family is. It's refreshing to be spoken to like a normal woman by a man that you're attracted to. It doesn't feel forced or fake either, just a man flirting with a woman who he thinks is attractive.

"I'm meeting a few friends at a pub after this, come get a drink with me."

The way he phrases it makes it sound like a command and not a request. Desire curls low in your belly and you want nothing more to say yes. Regret stings though, harsh and unwanted.

"I can't." You lament "I have to stay here until the last guest leaves. Royal duties and all that." You don't bother trying to keep the sadness out of your voice.

"Oh..." Lando doesn't bother hiding his disappointment either.

"But," You say quickly, reaching out so your fingers brush his elbow. "I'm free tomorrow night."

The pub that you suggest is one that you're a regular at so you know your privacy will be respected. The last thing you needed was the press getting wind of you spending time with known playboy and womanizer Lando Norris, even if his reputation didn't match who the man really was in real life. You knew better than most that quite often, the chosen narrative that the press ran with was very far from the actual truth.

Thankfully, your father had followed through on his promise to give you the day off so you hadn't had to cancel but your protection officers had insisted on following you to the pub even though you'd been there hundreds of times before. "This is the first time you're meeting this person alone, your highness. Your father would have a heart attack if he knew we'd allowed you to go out alone." Your head PO had reasoned, despite you arguing that you were literally meeting Lando Norris of all people, a man who was almost equally as famous as you were. In the end, you had compromised and the two officers that were assigned to you that night, Bradley and Nathan, had agreed to be discreet and sit at the bar without bothering you.

Lando had been the first to arrive at the cozy pub, happy that you had suggested someplace quiet and out of the way. The last thing he needed was Zak getting wind of him doing the exact opposite of what he had advised him to do. He sat tucked away in a corner booth, pint ordered for himself and a glass of wine ready for you, nervously tapping away at his phone to his best friend Max, who was on Oscar and Zak's side that this entire thing was a bad idea. Which made Lando want to prove himself to them even more. He wasn't just some stupid race car driver that only bagged models left and right. He could hold his own with you, a well educated and well bred member of the Royal family, thank you very much.

The bell over the heavy door chimed, announcing your arrival. Lando's head popped up as it had with every jingle of the bell, nerves grating on his usually cool demeanor. He wasn't quite sure what it was about you that had him so off kilter, but you made him nervous. He wasn't sure if he liked it or not but he wanted to see if he could figure you out.

Lando's mouth went dry when he saw you, dressed casually in a flowy floral skirt and creamy white knit jumper. For the first time since meeting, your hair was down and the only thing Lando could think about was running his hands through the thick waves to see if you liked your hair pulled.

Nerves sparked down your spine when you saw him waiting for you, eyes trained on his phone in front of him. His ignorance to your arrival hadn't lasted long and the moment you two locked gazes, your pulse sky rocketed. Be normal about this you chide yourself as you cross the pub. Go slow your mind begs, although your heart has different ideas.

"Hi Lando." You murmur into his neck when he pulls you in for a hug, his arms lingering around just a touch longer than necessary.

"You look good tonight, princess."

The way he says 'princess' like it's a nickname and not a formal title has butterflies taking flight in your belly.

You sit across from him, impressed that he ordered you your favorite wine, not knowing that he had asked the bartender last night what you had been drinking at the awards gala. The two of you fall into an easy banter, discussing everything from his life racing in Formula 1 to the degree in business and international relations you had just completed the prior spring.

Everything felt so easy with Lando, you noticed as you finished your second glass of wine. As the fuzzy haze that the alcohol washed over you, you were relieved and surprised at how normal this all felt. You weren't the 'savior of the monarchy' or the 'perfect English princess' here with him. You were just a 25 year old recent uni graduate spending an evening with a charming man you had met out of pure circumstance.

"I have a confession." Lando says once he's two beers deep.

You arch a perfectly shaped brow, wondering if now is when the other shoe drops. "Oh?"

"I'm kind of surprised you were allowed to come here on your own tonight."

Relief floods through you as a laugh bubbles up from the back of your throat. "Were you expecting I walk in flanked by a bunch of body guards?"

Lando shrugs, looking a little sheepish. "Kinda?"

The way you throw your head back and laugh has Lando mesmerized, the sound of it airy and light. He thinks he could spend the rest of his life making you laugh like that and never get bored.

Oh.

"Do you see that big guy over there? In the dress shirt sitting at the bar?"

Lando finds the man you're talking about sitting with his back towards you and nods.

"That's Nathan, he's my lead protection officer tonight." You point towards the door next, where another large man sits scrolling through his phone. "And that's Bradley, my second PO. He's already clocked that we're talking about him, don't let the eyes on the phone fool you."

Lando sits back, a bit blown away that these guys had been here the entire time and he hadn't known. It made him feel better though, knowing that you had been under their watch and protected the entire time. He thought back to the story you told him the first day you met, about the stalker. He wasn't a stranger to weird fan behavior, with how public he lived his life but as his eyes pinged back and forth from you to your protection officers, he realized your fame was on another level.

You sensed the hesitation in Lando then, a familiar look of intimidation and shock falling over his handsome face. You were used to that look, having seen it time and time again from new friends and potential boyfriends. Everyone was in love with the idea of you, the idea of being associated with you and what your life was but when the reality hit them? More often than not, they realized your friendship wasn't worth the price of being in your life.

"I come with a lot of baggage, Lan." You murmur, playing with the stem of your wine glass. You know what comes next and you brace yourself for it, regretting allowing yourself to get your hopes up that maybe, just maybe, he had been different.

Lando is quiet for a bit as he gazes at you, eyes soft and vulnerable. You try desperately to avoid looking at him, unable to face what you feel will be pity in his eyes. You've seen it so many times before. When people learn about how regimented and controlled your life is, how you can't step one toe out of line for fear of bringing the wrath of an entire nation down on your head. It's hard and you never want to ask another person to voluntarily take that on for you.

"That's okay." Lando says easily. His eyes finally find yours then because you've fond the courage to look at him then and they practically sparkle over at you. "We all come with baggage but sometimes when you have two people handling it together, the baggage becomes a little easier to handle all at once."

The spark that scurries up your arm when he reaches out to clasp your fingers in his is something you've never felt before.

"I thought you lived at the palace?" Lando looks at you sideways as you walk down the quiet street later that night. The pub where you had spent the last several hours was just a short walk from your townhome so when Lando had offered you a ride, you had told him you would just walk. He had insisted on walking you home then and you had of course accepted.

"I have apartments at the palace, yes but I mostly live here." You point to the a brick townhome that sits at the end of a quiet row. "It belonged to my grandmother but she gave it to me when I turned 18."

"My grandma gave me a watch when I turned 18." Lando grouses.

Not for the first or even second time tonight, you tilt your head back on a laugh and Lando thinks it's the prettiest sound he's ever heard. He's mildly concerned that he's becoming addicted.

You come to a stop at the bottom of your stoop, turning to face Lando, suddenly feeling shy. You hadn't expected this to feel as much like a date as it felt. When he had said 'drink' you assumed it would be a casual thing between two potential friends getting to know each other. What you hadn't anticipated was how natural it felt being with Lando, how effortless it felt to have his eyes on you.

"I had fun tonight." Lando says, taking a step closer to you. He knows that your protection officers are close by, far enough away to give you privacy but close enough to be able to do their job. It doesn't bother him as much as he thought it would though.

"I did too." You confess, sinking into the warmth you can feel radiating from his body.

"I want to kiss you." Lando is so close now you can feel the brush of his breath fan out over your cheek.

"Then kiss me." You breathe.

The first brush of his lips has you drowning in him. The plush press of his mouth on yours has your knees weak, reaching out to steady yourself by clutching at his dress shirt. Like everything with Lando Norris, the kiss is unexpectedly heated and wholly natural. The thought buzzes in the back of your mind that you could get used to this with him.

It's so dangerous.

Lando swallows your sigh when he licks into your mouth for the first time, needing to consume anything he can that belongs to you. You find yourself entirely forgetting about the world around you, not caring that anyone could see you making out with Lando Norris in the middle of the sidewalk. Somewhere, in the deep recesses of your brain, an alarm goes off but the way Lando kissed you silences any coherent thought outside of his lips on yours.

"Oh." You whisper when you finally pull back.

Lando runs his hand over his mouth, eyes playfully regarding you as if he's surprised. "Oh is right, princess."

God you were so glad your brother had gotten sick this week.

Tag list: @shelbyteller @formulaal @martygraciesversion381 @longhairkoo @samantha-chicago @stelena-klayley y @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland @chlmtfilms @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @sltwins @linnygirl09 @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @strawberryy-kiwii @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream @eloriis @daemyratwst @dramaticpiratellamas @mochimommy2002 @bibissparkles @llando4norris @chelseyyouraverageluigi @iamaunknownsecret @maxivstappen @imlonelydontsendhelp @nina-or-anna-or-nora @a1leexxa @littlegrapejuice @amyj3114 @sunflowervol18 @freyathehuntress @finn-dot-com @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff

[megalony]

Undo What's Done- Part 2

Here is the second part for my new Emperor Geta imagine, hopefully I can get a third part done for this little series too.

Please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @talicat713 @niamhmbt @strawberry-canyon @bieberhoodforever @911fangirlie @hollandxxmix @jasmineee05 @creat1venat1onn @devilslittlehelper @darlingcharling-blog @bear8585

@eddiesguitarskills @ziggeddie @silentwhisper666 @mysticalstar30 @sheneedsrocknroll92

Main Masterlist

Part 1

Summary: (Y/n) and Geta have always known they were betrothed to each other, and their love bound them too. When (Y/n) becomes pregnant before marriage, Geta asks his father to arrange their marriage sooner. But the Emperor is sadistic and puts (Y/n) and her unborn child in jeopardy.

(Set before the twins become Emperors)

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tears of indignation burned down (Y/n)'s cheeks as she tried to follow after her mother who was still arguing with her, despite her fast-paced walk down the long corridor. She moved fast considering the state of fluctuating panic and anger she was in and sometimes it looked like she was gliding through the air rather than walking.

(Y/n)'s feet tripped over the hem of her dress but she didn't bother to pull on the waistline and yank it up, she didn't have the time or the effort for that.

She couldn't keep following her mother around like this, and she certainly didn't want to be stood arguing in the halls of the palace where anyone could overhear and witness them.

"Mother please-"

(Y/n) skidded to a stop, almost crashing into her mother when she stopped so abruptly and spun around on her heels to face her.

"The Emperor has told your father what's happened. I'm going home to speak to him, and you best not join me. He will throw a fit when he sees you, we shall have to bed his forgiveness and hope he is in an understanding mood."

She found herself shaking her head at her mother's words which cut deep no matter how true they might be. This is what (Y/n) had been afraid of. Her father finding out the truth. She had prayed that getting married to Geta would quash those worries, that the Emperor would back down and her father wouldn't have to know the truth why her marriage had happened in such haste with such little notice.

Clearly she had been lying to herself and the world was starting to crumble around her.

If her father knew then he was going to be enraged. He would lose his temper that was barely contained on the best of days. He would make it known that (Y/n) was no longer his daughter, that she had brought shame onto her family and therefore had been cast aside. She wasn't sure there was anything that her mother could say which would dissuade her father from exiling her from their family.

If the Emperor didn't allow this marriage and he broke off the betrothal, (Y/n) will have ruined her family. She could find no greater match than a Prince, and no one would want her if she was with child out of wedlock.

"The Emperor can't annul this marriage, he can't. Father will have to accept this too."

How could he? How could he annul something which had been orchestrated by a Priest, a man of God? No man could go against the word of God, it was sanctity and there was no good reason for the Emperor to try and ruin this except out of spite and for being undermined by one of his sons.

(Y/n) reached out for her mother's hand but her breath caught in her throat when her mother yanked her hand away. Those eyes that had always been full of love and tenderness now showed resentment and disappointment, everything which (Y/n) strived not to be in the eyes of her parents.

All she ever did was try to please them. She abided by their rules, she studied well, took all of her lessons to heart and strived to be respectable and bring them good fortune and happiness. All she was guilty of was getting ahead of herself with the man she was betrothed to, something that shouldn't be shamed on. Something her parents would never of known about if the Emperor had only done the right thing in the beginning.

"In the eyes of Rome, he is a God." Her mother hissed those words like a serpent while her narrowed eyes glanced around the halls, watching for any servants who might report back to the Emperor. "He can kill who he likes with no repercussions, and you think he cannot undo a matrimony he didn't sanction? You have disgraced us all."

The way those cruel eyes dragged up and down her frame made (Y/n) flinch and she recoiled back a few steps while her arms bound around her waist, hugging herself to hold all of her broken pieces together.

"I will no longer be a burden on you."

The defiant words barely managed to pass the lump forming in (Y/n)'s throat and she tried her best to hold her head up high.

Her teeth gritted together and she spun on her heels to backtrack down the long hall that seemed to stretch on for miles now that (Y/n) felt like running away like a scolded child. Tremors rattled through her limbs that barely moved under her coordination.

Tears began to blurr her vision and (Y/n) prayed she remembered the way back towards Geta's chambers. She had frequented the palace often over the years, but she never ventured past the drawing rooms or the great hall. Seeing the upstairs of the palace was like entering a maze and trying to remember the way she walked in.

Geta kept a knife under his pillow; perhaps that instrument might come in useful.

The sudden thought seized her mind and sent her heart jumping in her chest. That wasn't something (Y/n) wanted to contemplate, but she couldn't help but ponder about it in the dark recesses of her mind. She knew Geta had a knife hidden beneath his pillow, purely for protection, he had told her a few times about it and why he felt it necessary.

(Y/n) couldn't really use it, she wouldn't be able to bring the blade to her throat or impale it into her skin and she didn't want to. God knows she didn't want to hurt herself or end her life, but she had to think about her options. Being with Geta was the only viable option (Y/n) had and it was the only one she wanted to take.

Doing as his father said- or rather insulted- and being one of Geta's concubines wasn't something she would lower herself to and not on the whim of an Emperor who ruled with cruelty than kindness.

Something had to be done. They were running out of options; and time.

***

For what felt like the hundredth time, (Y/n) ran her hands up and down her face, smearing fresh and dried tears across her face and rubbing at her eyes that were desperate to close and block the world out.

Her feet were aching from where she had been pacing the floor, walking up and down so much that she had left a smudged pattern along the glistening marbled floor that shined her reflection up at her. Her fingers began to scratch down her neck and her body reduced to shivers despite the warm heat rising from the hearth across the room.

She didn't know what to do.

Walking the palace by herself didn't seem safe, not when she didn't know what kind of rumours the Emperor might have spread. For all (Y/n) knew, he could have told the guards that he didn't want her here anymore and get them to escort her out. Her father might have told them to send her home at once if they saw her.

She couldn't go home, never again. She couldn't bear to see her father and endure the arguments, slurrs and insults he would throw at her when they were face to face. Her mother was at the point of shunning her too if this situation didn't settle down soon.

(Y/n) didn't feel safe leaving Geta's chambers and walking the palace, not without him.

And she had no idea where Geta was.

She hadn't seen him since early this afternoon, before she had tried to talk to her mother who was most presumably at home now, arguing or pleading with her father. Geta never said where he was going and the longer (Y/n) waited, the more panicked she was becoming.

All she had done for what felt like hours was sit or pace his room. She couldn't settle to try and read one of the few books he had scattered around his room. She couldn't try and sleep despite how heavy and hurtful her head felt and she couldn't relax or do anything when her future was in turmoil.

Unbridled terror coursed through (Y/n) when the sound of the door clinked and the hinges groaned as the old wooden door was prized open.

Instinct told her to move, to go and hide and be out of sight in case it was a maid or servant coming in to tidy the room. Her feet shuffled back and she was just about to turn and flee when a glimmer of golden hair caught her attention.

Her body paused as she watched the golden hair flash in the warmth of the hearth fire and with how ruffled and skewed the hair seemed, (Y/n) sighed. Caracalla. But surprise flooded her eyes when the door slammed shut and she realised it wasn't Caracalla after all, it was Geta who entered the room.

What had happened to him?

The terror doubled and burned within (Y/n) as she stared at her husband who she hardly recognised. He looked disshevelled. It was usually Caracalla who had toussled hair which he could never be bothered to tame or let the servants brush and tend to. But tonight, Geta's usually kept hair was stuck up in various ways, almost as if a fist had clutched at the strands and the hair around his temple was ruffled and messy.

(Y/n) dragged her eyes up and down Geta's frame with growing trepidation as she realised why he looked so strange.

His chest was heaving beneath his gown as if the silk cloth was far too heavy for him to bear. His rose rose and fell and his head kept ticking back and forth as he struggled to gain back a proper breath like he had been running the length of Rome. His pasty pink lips were now blushing red and parted to let him pant for air and his upper lip was curled into some kind of strange grimace that wasn't usual for Geta.

Those beautiful dark eyes were distant and he seemed to be staring at the far window like there was something strange in the outside world that he had never seen before.

But it was the blood (Y/n) could see that sent her heart rocketing into her throat. Blood was splattered in dots and patches on his striking silver gown. There was a large patch near his shoulder and a splotch over his lower chest and tiny splatters were dotted all across the front.

He had blood covering his hands. Both hands were repeatedly clenching and unclenching into fists like he was straining and stretching out his fingers and it showed how badly he was trembling. One or two dots of blood had dried and stained his face and looked more like freckles against the thin white make up that had been applied to his features this morning.

(Y/n)'s hand moved to cover her mouth, trying in vain to hide her shock and stop any strange sound from eliciting past her lips.

Her body seemed to be on slow motion as she stepped forward with caution in her movements.

Geta wasn't moving. He was stood in front of the closed door, head slightly angled to one side and that faraway look bubbling in those distant eyes. He looked like he had been cast under a spell.

"Wh- what happened?! Are you hurt?"

He wouldn't answer her. He looked like he was in some strange state of shock. Geta's lack of reply sent (Y/n)'s stomach hurtling up into her throat and her hands trembled as she tried to reach out for him. She didn't want to touch him and startle him or have him reel away from her in haste.

But Geta didn't seem to acknowledge her touch. (Y/n) shakily slid her hands up his neck and cupped either side of his face, and Geta didn't seem to notice. He didn't lean his cheek into her palm like he usually would have done. He didn't look down at her or step forward into her embrace or even raise a hand to cup her wrist.

(Y/n) refrained from scratching her nails into his skin to gain some kind of reaction and instead she angled his head down in her direction and pushed up on her toes to try and be level with him. She leaned up close enough that their noses were almost touching and her eyes searched left to right until Geta finally latched onto her gaze and looked at her.

There was such a strange aura in his eyes. It felt like (Y/n) was staring up at a stranger or as if Geta didn't recognise her.

The deep breaths Geta took finally started to mellow from staggered and laboured to deep and easier. The shaking that had settled into his bones simmered down somewhat with (Y/n)'s body pressed up against his own and her hands cupping his face, grounding him.

Geta's lips twitched as if he wanted to smile when he looked down at (Y/n), but he couldn't quite manage it.

His eyes narrowed on her but he made no attempt to move or speak or incline to what had happened.

Unease washed through (Y/n) when she glided her hands down towards Geta's biceps instead of cradling his face. He didn't seem to react to her touch again, but she was relieved he didn't oppose when she tried to coax him to move.

He began to walk, shuffling alongside her as (Y/n) urged him into the room and guided him towards the sofa. Her hands squeezed his arms and she nudged him back until Geta flopped down onto the sofa and for a moment, he looked like a clay figure that had melted out of shape. He slumped into the back of the sofa and took a few moments to gain his breath back and seem to work out what he wanted to do.

Just as (Y/n) slowly knelt down on the floor before him, Geta pushed forward and sat upright like his back was now made out of wood and couldn't bend in any direction.

His eyes locked with (Y/n)'s once again and the anguish she saw flooding those beautifully broken eyes made her heart stutter. Her hands moved down to grip his thighs and she leaned forward until her chest was pressing against his knees and she was as close to him as she could manage.

"Geta, sweetheart, what has happened? Tell me, please." Her warm hands glided across his thighs in large circles and she stared up at him with pleading eyes, begging to know what had happened.

If he didn't say something soon (Y/n) might have to go and find a healer in case something was gravely wrong with Geta. That was the last thing anyone needed, for Geta to be ill or in a state of shock that they needed him to break out of. (Y/n) had no idea what a healer might do for Geta if he continued to be unresponsive like this.

But finally, finally, he seemed to snap back into some partial sense of reality.

(Y/n) wasn't sure whether he hadn't noticed that it was her before him until now or whether he had just realised that he needed to explain. Either way, his hands finally moved down and he gripped her wrists with a sudden sense of urgency that had his tense fingers and knuckles cracking into place.

His lips parted and curled and the dried splatters of blood on his face started to flake with each movement of his facial muscles and expressions.

He leant forward until the end of his nose was pressed into (Y/n)'s and her eyes had no choice but to stare into his pupils that were getting darker and darker with each passing second.

"It's done."

His voice was rasping and his chest began to heave again as if the words had taken all the effort out of him. But Geta's frightening words were nothing more than a whisper on the wind that (Y/n) had to process carefully to ensure she hadn't imagined them or misheard him.

That was worrying. Geta spoke as if (Y/n) had sent him out on a crusade- which she certainly had not done. What had her husband gone and done while they had been apart? Had he spoken to the Priest? Had he convinced the Emperor to back down on his revenge and give in to what must happen? Had he made an announcement to all of Rome to say he was married like he said he would if necessary?

There were numerous possibilities for Geta's words and (Y/n) needed more information to know how to help and what she was supposed to do now.

"What's done? I don't understand." (Y/n) tried to flex her hands in Geta's strong grip but he wouldn't release her wrists. She tried to drag her fingertips along his thighs in an attempt to calm him down, but he only gripped her tighter and cut off the circulation to her hands.

The pleading look in (Y/n)'s eyes must have done something to Geta for his expression flickered and something swirled within his eyes.

"Geta-"

"He can't threaten us anymore, I took care of it." Finally, Geta let go of (Y/n)'s wrists in favour of knotting his hands together and resting his arms on his thighs.

He didn't oppose to (Y/n) resting her hands on his forearms and when she tilted her head down to kiss the back of his hand, he almost wanted to smile. (Y/n) could feel his foot tapping against the marbled floor which caused his knee to jitter up and down, but it was soothing. Geta was never someone to sit as still as a statue, he was always fiddling or moving and having him back to that restless state proved that he was calming down and coming back to his senses. Somewhat.

"You- you mean your father?"

He had taken care of it. That had to mean the Emperor. Geta had to mean that he had spoken or argued with his father and had finally sorted this mess into something fathomable and acceptable.

But with that thought in mind and with Geta nodding in agreement, (Y/n)'s face fell. Her jaw slacked and her mouth fell open as tremors rattled through her entire being. Geta was splattered with blood like a tainted work of art. What had happened with his father?

Her hands released his forearms and her fingertips frantically began to search up and down Geta's body, along his arms and torso to try and find some kind of wound or impact. Her hands travelled up towards his shoulders and her abdomen pressed into his knees as she leaned over him with a sudden fever that set Geta off guard.

He couldn't help but tilt back, his eyes wide as he watched the panic scour his wife's face. But then it clicked. She thought he had been hurt. She was looking for the marks. She knew the Emperor was one for taking his wrath out on his sons and if they had argued, the Emperor might have swung or attacked Geta. It wouldn't be the first time, most of the servants in the palace knew what the Emperor was like and how the Princes both suffered because of it.

"What did he do? Did he try and hurt you-" (Y/n)'s frantic hands stopped when Geta shook his head and took her wrists again in a ferociously tight grip that made her pause.

"He wouldn't listen, he never listened to me. He broke his word, he would of caused a scandal, he was prepared to ruin you- ruin us. He won't be making anymore careless decisions."

Deep down in his heart, Geta had known. He had known the moment he told his father about the marriage that he wouldn't agree. He knew his father was doing this to be spiteful. And Geta knew if the Emperor got his way, (Y/n) would be cast aside like a commoner, like a concubine and he would arrange a marriage for Geta to some other nobleman's daughter and that marriage would happen with haste.

He could see it happening before his eyes. He could see his father doing this to gain another ounce of control over Geta, to hold him in line and mould him into a ruthless ruler. His father didn't believe in love or happiness that wasn't gained by torture and control. This was a game, and Geta was done playing.

He wouldn't let his father break his word and he wouldn't let him ruin what Geta wanted for himself. He had never asked for anything in his life, he accepted all the decisions that were made on his behalf and he let his father guide his destiny and mould him into whatever shape he desired. But this, this was something that Geta was taking for himself; even if it was the one and only thing he did.

"Ooh Geta, you- what did you do?"

(Y/n)'s breaths caught in her throat and she surged forward, cupping Geta's face in her hands so he was forced to look into her eyes. But the way he shook his head and rose one brow made her stomach give an awful twist.

Her hands dropped from his face and she slumped back on her heels with a defeated gasp. That callous look on Geta's face was new, he had never looked like that before and (Y/n) wasn't so sure she liked it.

"Sweetheart please tell me you didn't…"

Geta's pointed features stared down at her as a sharp expression took over his face and his lips curled up into a snarl.

How could she look at him like that? How could she speak like that, as if what she knew to be true was so horrid? Geta had done them both a great deed, he had done Rome a service like a true Emperor should. (Y/n) shouldn't be looking at him like that, she shouldn't have such sorrow in her eyes for someone who deserved no sympathy at all.

"He wasn't fit to be Emperor! He raised us to rule and to be ruthless in doing so. I did what I had to for the good of Rome, and Rome is now mine. He's dead, it was the only way."

She couldn't breathe.

Stars flooded (Y/n)'s vision and her hands scrunched up in her lap, fisting and raking her dress along her thighs in a vain attempt to calm herself down.

She was partially to blame for this. She had helped to cause this. If she and Geta had only abstained from each other, if they only asked for their marriage to be started and the proceedings to happen, maybe this wouldn't have happened.

But what else could she have done? This was their situation and Geta had done what he thought he needed to.

He had killed his own father. He had done an unthinkable task, something that Rome would not be pleased about. All of Rome would try and usurp him from the throne if they learned what he had done. A brutal leader could be followed, but one who had killed and taken the throne for himself was someone the people would not want to follow. That kind of thing was left for the gladiators in the colosseum. This was unbecoming of a future Emperor.

Geta could be detained for this, he could be trialled by the Senates for what he had done, and he was young. The people didn't have much faith in him or Caracalla yet because they were both young and hadn't proved themselves worthy of Rome yet.

"I had to." Geta's voice turned deeper and his tongue dragged across his dry lips as he stared down at his wife, waiting for her response. For her understanding.

He was somewhat relieved when he watched (Y/n) nod her head, muttering "I know," under her breath.

He had to. What other choice did he have?

The Emperor wouldn't listen. Geta gave him every chance to do the right thing, every opportunity. Geta went around him and got married, he had rectified the situation and then his father tried to ruin everything. Again. Geta tried one more time this afternoon.

He went to his father's study, he explained that the Priest couldn't sanction an annulment and he explained that (Y/n) was and should be his wife and that this was for the best. The Emperor laughed. He had the audacity to laugh and tell Geta that he was God and he could do whatever he liked, and he did not want this marriage to go ahead.

There hadn't been a choice. He slapped Geta, he pushed him and waved his knife as a threat. He had cut Geta before; when the twins were little he had gone after Caracalla with a hand knife and Geta had stood in front of his twin and bore the impact. He still had the scar along his back to prove it.

Suddenly, something had washed over Geta. He could see his life draining away. He could see himself forever being stuck under his father's imposing rules and ways and anger. Then the knife was imbedded in his father's throat. And slashing against his chest. Cutting through his skin like scissors through silk.

"Geta, come with me."

A frown settled deep into Geta's features and he broke out of his trance-like state when (Y/n) suddenly took his hands. Her touch was gentle, something Geta wasn't quite expecting, and he let her pull him up from the sofa. The feeling of her thumbs gliding over the back of his hands was calming and he felt like he was gliding through the air as she guided him into the bed chamber.

One brow arched up when (Y/n) nudged him to sit down on the bed and when she let go of his hands, Geta suddenly felt like he was falling through the air, unsure where he was about to land.

He watched her with uncertainty and curiosity as (Y/n) shakily but quickly fluttered about the room.

The pitcher of water on the table was moved to the floor beside Geta's foot along with a wash bowl and cloth. And shivers tore through his skin when (Y/n) stood in front of him once again.

He didn't know what to do or what she was trying to do, but when she began to push the gown off his shoulders and down his chest, Geta simply watched her. He let her slide his arms out of the garments but before (Y/n) could do anything else, he leaned forward.

He took her by surprise by attaching his lips onto hers and taking a searing kiss from her. His touch was somewhat frivilous yet needy and desperate and his hand reached out to cup the side of her neck as he inhaled the air from her lungs like he needed it more.

His lips trailed a path from (Y/n)'s lips along her jaw and down the side of her neck and with each kiss, Geta leaned more and more into her until he was at risk of toppling off the bed and onto his wife. He could feel her hand gripping his hip to try and steady him and make sure that he didn't fall, but his intentions were crystal clear. He was seeking comfort and solace in his wife's embrace.

"We- we have to get you changed. I can get rid of these without the maids seeing."

(Y/n) kept her left hand deadlocked on Geta's hip while her right arm tried to scrunch up Geta's gown and toss them onto the floor beside her. She could feel Geta's lips pausing against her neck and his hand stilled against her face as if he was trying to work out what she was talking about.

"Why?"

"You killed him, Rome might thank you for this, but they also might revolt. We can't trust the guards until we know you have their undying respect. Who knew you went to talk to him?"

(Y/n) wasn't sure how she managed to think so clearly when she knew what had happened and what this could mean for them if anyone found out. The panic within her was screaming at her to cry, to sit down and break and collapse and let all of her frantic worries rise to the surface in the form of tears.

But she couldn't. There was no time to sit and wallow. This time had to be used carefully, to set things right and make the best of the situation they found themselves in.

The people of Rome would be happy the Emperor was dead, he was a tyrant and the twins would be welcomed to the throne, but not if they knew what Geta had done. And (Y/n) couldn't ask the guards to help with this situation, not if they weren't one hundred percent loyal to Geta. All it took was one guard to whisper rumours about or tell the Senates and then Geta would be in jeopardy, and so would (Y/n) and all of Rome.

They had to sort this out themselves and they had to be quick about it.

"No one."

"Good, because you were here with me, okay?" (Y/n)'s hand moved up to cup Geta's face and she felt somewhat relieved when he nodded.

She could see that he wasn't taking much of this situation in, but at least he wasn't in that shocked, frozen state he had been in when he came back to the room.

She prayed no one had seen him go into or leave the Emperor's study. If someone saw him they might suspect once the guards and the residents of the palace found out what had happened to the Emperor. They couldn't suspect Geta, they couldn't suspect either of the twins. If they wanted a smooth ascent to the throne then they had to be above suspicion.

When (Y/n) began to clean the flecks of dried blood from his skin, Geta allowed his chin to tilt down into his chest so he could observe his naturally pale skin beneath her touch.

He was suddenly glad that his father hadn't bled much, at least not on him. All the blood had accumulated on the study floor and had soaked into his father's silver gown.

He hadn't been lathered in blood when he slit his father's throat or plunged the knife into his chest or slashed at his skin. It was surprising that none of the blood splatter had tainted Geta more than this. If any servant noticed the bloodied clothes before (Y/n) got rid of them, they could just as easily assume he had suffered a nose bleed.

No one would suspect the truth.

***

"Brother!"

A brief amount of terror flooded Geta's chest and surged into his heart that had already taken enough stress from today to last him a decade.

His head shot up from where he had been laid across (Y/n)'s lap and his blearly eyes looked ahead to see his brother stood in the doorway to his bed chamber.

Caracalla looked disshevelled. His golden hair was ruffled, knotted and askew in every direction. The dark blue robe he wore was hanging off both shoulders and exposing his chest and part of his abdomen and he hadn't bothered to tie the strings around his waist. He had one hand fisted around the robe to ensure his modesty was covered, although he had burst into his twin's room more than once when he was wearing nothing at all, so he had nothing to fear.

His bare feet were cold against the frozen marble floor and it was making him shiver and writhe on the spot, but the sense of glee in Caracalla's eyes was unwavering and almost frightening.

Geta groaned as he pushed up from (Y/n)'s lap and sat up straight in bed, looking towards (Y/n) for a moment. He didn't know what time it was, but it had to be late, and yet (Y/n) hadn't slept.

Geta had been wiped out, all of his energy had dissolved once (Y/n) had helped him wash and change and disposed of his clothes safely and securely. He had laid down on her lap and gone to sleep almost straight away.

It had been the first time in years that Geta had managed to fall asleep straight away. And he hadn't had one bad thought. He slept like a child.

"What is it?" (Y/n) took the words right out of Geta's mouth.

She reached her hand out to glide her fingertips through Geta's hair at the nape of his neck and she leaned her cheek against his shoulder. It was strange how calm she tried to be on the outside when inside of her, an orchestra was composing a horribly symphony of panic and clattering drums and her heart was going so fast it might just give out at any second.

"Brother! Brother, we- we are changed men!" Caracalla's bewildered expression matched the ludacris tone to his voice and the wide smile spreading across his face.

"What?"

"Father is dead, someone has slain him. We are to rule now."

Oh. Geta's shoulders dropped as he stared at his brother like he was an angel bringing news from above. It slipped his mind, what had happened to his father. Shock plastered across his face that was genuine and true and he figured it was better that he forgot what he had done for it gave the impression to his brother- and any servants who might wander in- that he had no idea about this before now.

They were to rule. They were to be Emperors. It had always been an agreement between the twins since they had been old enough to understand their destiny that they would rule together. Side by side. One no more an Emperor than the other; this would be the start of their joint reign.

Seconds ticked by into minutes as Geta stayed motionless, sat with (Y/n) feigning shock as she huddled into his side and waited desperately for him to say and do something.

He ran his hand across his face, scratching his smooth skin and down his neck before he sighed and a placid expression secured onto his face.

"Then assemble the council. We have an announcement to make."

***

"We have a lot to discuss gentlemen, Sires. And I think the first proposition should be-"

Something stirred within Geta as he looked to his left and locked eyes with Caracalla. He knew he didn't have to say anything to know that his twin was thinking along the same lines as him. They had the same understanding, that much was evidently clear.

Geta wasn't sure what made him feel so confident yet tiresome and uncaring like this. It was as if he himself were made of gold, untouchable and unbreakable by the people in this room. Maybe it was knowing that he had a secret that no one else in this room knew and could ever know.

They would never understand the strength it took for Geta to do what he did and that it was done in the name of Rome and for his family. No one, not even Caracalla, would ever understand.

Geta glanced at his brother, stood in midnight blue and golden garments dripping off him like he had fallen from the sun itself. And when he looked down at his own silver and golden gowns, he felt that confidence building. All that was missing was the crowns from their heads and they would be untouchable. Gods. In control of everyone and everything.

"I have a proposition to discuss gentlemen, which takes precidence here." Geta felt like adding 'if you have no objections' but he didn't. He didn't want to give them chance to oppose or try and control the meeting.

This was his and Caracalla's game now, and they were in charge.

No one opposed or said anything, instead, heads nodded and all eyes fell to Geta to see what he wanted to discuss.

"I think the first announcement to be made should be my marriage. I doubt any of you are aware that before our father was slain, he had granted and acknowledged my marriage to Lady (Y/n). I have the Priest here at the palace to vouch the sanctity of our marriage and our betrothal in writing from my father."

Wide eyes and open mouths stared back at Geta like he had spoken his inner truth, his secrets, and expected them to applaud him.

He waited for the begrudgements, for the quibbles and disagreements and chastising. He waited for someone to say that this wasn't proper, that there should have been a discussion and proper arrangements and a ceremony for the public to know about and the Senates to attend.

What he got instead surprised him. Agreement. The nodding of heads and mutterings of 'of course Sire' and people murmuring that this should be a priority.

They could hardly announce the Emperor's death and his son's rising to the throne and then state afterwards that one of the newly appointed Emperors was in fact married. This was something of priority to take care of first.

This is the kind of acceptance and agreement that Geta had been after in the first place. This simply validated his actions. His father had to go, he had been an obstruction to Geta and the good of Rome.

"Very well Sire, we shall make announcements shortly."

"Before we announce about the Emperor's death, we must try and pursue any leads to find out who was behind this massacre."

Nodding heads and agreements flooded the room but Geta and Caracalla didn't acknowledge them. That wasn't what they wanted. Geta's marriage and the twins ascent to the throne was their main priority. The people didn't have to know that the late Emperor had been slain. That could be a rumour at best, it didn't have to be the truth that all of Rome heard.

"What does it matter?" Caracalla tilted his head to one side and rose a brow as he began to drum his fingers against the table in front of him.

"Sire, someone murdered him, someone got into the palace undetected… it could have been a guard-"

"That doesn't matter." The curt tone to Geta's voice snapped through the air and asserted dominance over the room.

His expression was unamused and his lips formed a thin line while his head angled to the right and one brow arched. He exerted a wave of authority over everyone in the room before he had been crowned Emperor. This was a sense of dominance that Geta never would of had if his father had died under normal circumstances. He never would have felt so uncaring and hard and confident if he hadn't been pushed to the brink of a cliff.

"With all due respect-"

"If you wish to show us respect, then listen to us. Our father's murderer has committed treason, but Rome will be relieved not to have him on the throne any longer. Once the guards swear their allegiance to us, and you have all publicly acknowledged our ascent, then the matter is closed."

The moment Geta finished his speech, Caracalla leaned forward and slammed his palms down on the table with enough force to spill the glasses and rattle the quills and ink pots.

If the guards happened to find someone they suspected of this crime, Geta would go along with it. But as far as he and Caracalla were concerned, their father got what was coming to him. Rome would be relieved to have him dead and buried in one of the chapels. They would be happy to have the twins on the throne.

And once the guards and Senates and councilmen had all acknowledged Geta and Caracalla as their Emperors, then things would be different. It wouldn't matter who killed the late Emperor. His death would be an old chapter that had been closed.

Geta's marriage was no longer in jeopardy. (Y/n) was safe, her honour was in tact and would never again be questioned or put at risk. Their child wouldn't be born out of wedlock and would be in line for the throne.

Everything would work out for the best now.

Geta took a deep breath and allowed a smile to form on his lips as he clasped his hands together in front of him and cast his eyes around the room.

"A new era is upon us gentlemen."

[kckt88]

Imzadi III

Summary:

Lucaera offers a solution to the King, only to be abandoned in the aftermath.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Marriage, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Oral Sex, Fingering, P in V, Multiple Positions, Knotting, Revelations, Abandonment.

AEMOND x O.C NIECE

ALPHA/BETA/OMEGA DYNAMIC

Word Count: 7246

A.N - 'Imzadi - Beloved'

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole @zenka69 @aemondsbabygirl @aphroditesblunt @iamtoriasworld

The silence in the throne room was thick, suffocating.

Then:

"NO!"

The shout came from Lucaera, her voice echoing off the stone walls, ringing with defiance. The entire court turned to her in shock.

Viserys, who had been on the verge of finalizing his decree, stared at her in open-mouthed astonishment.

Rhaenyra stepped forward, her expression a mixture of disbelief and warning. “Lucaera, the king has made his decision.”

But Lucaera was not finished. She took a step forward, her hands trembling with fury as she reached for the collar of her riding leathers.

Before anyone could react, she wrenched it open, exposing the curve of her neck. The mark there was unmistakable—deep, dark, and still fresh from where Aemond had sunk his teeth into her flesh earlier that day.

The throne room erupted again.

Gasps of shock rippled through the gathered nobles. Rhaenyra’s eyes widened in horror before they narrowed with fury, her face contorting with rage.

“You bit my daughter?!” she snarled, whirling on Aemond. “You claimed her?”

Aemond remained silent, his single violet eye locked onto Lucaera. He could feel the weight of every stare in the room, but only one mattered.

Aegon, meanwhile, doubled over with laughter. “Oh, gods—so that’s who you were fucking earlier!” He wheezed, shaking his head in amusement.

Alicent let out a quiet, pained sound and buried her face in her hands. Helaena simply stared at Lucaera, unblinking, her lips parting as though she were about to speak but ultimately saying nothing.

Otto, ever the schemer, said nothing. His expression was carefully blank, but his mind was already racing.

If Aemond had claimed the only Omega in Targaryen history since Queen Rhaenys, then their bond was absolute. There was no breaking it. And that meant—

Aemond exhaled slowly and reached up, his fingers brushing against his collar. In one smooth motion, he pulled it down, exposing his own mating mark, the mirror image of Lucaera’s.

The uproar only grew louder.

Lucaera turned back to Viserys, her voice softer now but no less urgent. “Please, Grandsire—you cannot ask this of him.”

Viserys, still shaken by her outburst, could only stare at her.

“His life will be forfeit if he gives up his claim.” Lucaera’s voice trembled now, but her words were clear. “Do you truly believe that those who support my mother will let him live? That they will simply accept him as my mate and ignore the fact that his claim to the throne is stronger than hers? Then there’s Aegon. His children. Any child Aemond sires upon me. Every single one of them will be a contender for the Iron Throne.”

“L-Lucaera” muttered Viserys as he glanced at Rhaenyra.

Her breath hitched as she took another step forward. “The dragons will dance, and we will all die.”

The weight of her words settled over the court like a thick fog. No one dared to speak.

Viserys, frail and tired, exhaled heavily. “What would you have me do?”

Lucaera’s heart pounded, but she stood firm. “Summon every lord from the Seven Kingdoms. Let them cast their vote, it is the only way that’s fair”

Viserys studied her for a long moment, his old, withered eye searching her face. Then, with a slow nod, he spoke.

“My granddaughter speaks the truth.” His voice, though weak, was absolute. “A Great Council will be summoned. The lords of the realm will cast their vote for who shall rule the Seven Kingdoms after me, it will be held here in the Red Keep in a month’s time-”

The throne room exploded into chaos.

Lucaera felt her breath hitch as she descended the steps, her eyes searching desperately for her family.

But when she found them, the warmth she had always known was gone, replaced by something cold, and sharp.

Rhaenyra stood rigid, her expression a mixture of hurt and disbelief. Her lips were parted slightly, as if she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. The betrayal in her eyes cut deeper than any blade.

Beside her, Daemon was livid. His jaw was clenched so tight she could see the muscle twitching, his violet eyes burning with barely restrained fury. His hand hovered near the hilt of his sword.

Jace and Luke stood slightly behind them, their expressions a mirror of one another—stunned, hurt, and burning with anger.

Jace's hands curled into fists at his sides, while Luke simply looked like he had been punched in the gut.

Lucaera swallowed hard and took a hesitant step toward them.

“Please—”

But the moment she moved, Jace and Luke stepped back.

A sharp, deliberate movement. A rejection.

Then, without another word, they turned their backs on her.

Lucaera’s chest tightened painfully.

She looked to her mother again, hoping—praying—for something, anything. But Rhaenyra only shook her head, disappointment darkening her features.

Lucaera wanted to explain. She wanted to tell them that she had done this to protect them all, to stop the bloodshed before it even began. But the words wouldn’t come.

Because she knew—deep down—that they wouldn’t understand.

Then, suddenly, she felt the warmth of a familiar hand grasping hers.

The scent of leather and ash surrounded her, grounding her.

Aemond didn’t speak. He simply held her hand, his grip firm, unwavering.

Then, without a word, he led her out of the throne room, away from the chaos,

Lucaera sat on the edge of Aemond’s bed, her body heavy with exhaustion, the weight of everything pressing down on her chest like a vice.

The sadness was overwhelming, sinking into her bones, and suffocating. She barely registered Aemond kneeling before her until the warmth of his hands cupped her face, his touch steady, grounding.

His forehead rested against hers, and she closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. His scent—leather, , and ash something uniquely him—wrapped around her like a protective shield, soothing the raw ache inside her.

For a long moment, there was only silence between them. The world outside could rage and crumble, but in this moment, in this space, it was just them.

Then, finally, Lucaera whispered, “Did I do the right thing?”

Aemond exhaled slowly, his thumb stroking her cheek in a slow, reassuring motion. His voice, when he spoke, was steady, firm. “The King did what he always does, and he chose Rhaenyra. What you did was fair.”

Lucaera took a shuddering breath. Her fingers gripping  her riding leathers as she whispered, “Would you have chosen it?”

Aemond shifted, moving to sit beside her. His fingers brushed through a strand of her dark hair, tucking it gently behind her ear. His touch lingered, a silent comfort.

“I've always tried to be a good son,” he said, his voice softer now, but filled with an old bitterness. “I studied, I trained with the sword, I learned all there was to learn, but Viserys never noticed me. Not once. Even when I lost my eye, he never defended me. He was too concerned over an insult”

Lucaera swallowed hard, listening intently as he spoke words he had likely never voiced before.

Aemond let out a sharp breath, his fingers clenching briefly before relaxing. “I’ve tried so hard to be noticed, but it’s never enough. Not for him. Even when I presented as an Alpha Prime—the first since the Conqueror—it still wasn’t enough for him to bother.”

His eye met hers, filled with something raw, something vulnerable. “But with you, I feel seen. I feel- worthy.”

Lucaera’s breath caught, her heart tightening at the sheer honesty in his words.

“I know that our bond is new,” Aemond continued, reaching for her hand, threading his fingers through hers. “But I can feel it with every fibre of my being. You defended me that night on Driftmark, and you did it again today.”

He lifted her hand, pressing it against his chest, right over his heart. His voice dropped to a whisper, but there was no hesitation in his words. “As much as I desire to be King, it means nothing without you. So no, I would not have chosen it.”

Aemond lifted her hand and pressed a lingering kiss to her palm. His eye locked onto hers, fierce, unwavering.

“There is no me, without you.”

Lucaera’s lips trembled, her heart pounding as she leaned in. Their lips met in a kiss, slow and lingering, filled with silent promises.

Aemond’s hand moved to cradle the back of her head, his touch reverent, as if he was afraid she might disappear. Lucaera melted into him, her fingers curling into his jerkin, anchoring herself to him.

Then—A knock at the door.

They both startled slightly, the moment broken.

“Apologies, my Prince,” a maid’s voice called through the door. “But the Hand of the King has summoned both you and the Princess.”

Lucaera stood in the Tower of the Hand, her fingers twitching at her sides, the weight of the room pressing down on her.

Aemond stood at her side, his presence steady and unyielding. Otto lingered by the fireplace, his hands clasped behind his back as he watched the flames dance, deep in thought.

Alicent sat nearby, picking at her fingernails with a tense expression, while Helaena stared out of the window, lost in her own world.

Aegon, as usual, was slouched at the table, swirling wine in his cup before taking another lazy sip.

Finally, Otto turned to face them, his expression calm, composed. “The ravens are being prepared as we speak. Every lord in the Seven Kingdoms will be summoned for this Great Council. I have every faith they will vote in your favour, Aemond.”

Lucaera was the one to answer, her voice cool, unreadable. “You sound so sure, Lord Hand.”

Otto smiled, a calculated thing. “Of course. With the only Omega to present since Queen Rhaenys by his side, there is no doubt that Aemond will be our next King.”

Lucaera lifted her chin. “Nothing is certain. Do you forget that Lady Arryn now rules the Vale? She is my mother’s kin—she will not turn against her. And then there is Stark, who pledged to support my mother as heir. With Stark, the rest of the North will follow.”

Otto gave a small nod, acknowledging her point. “Yet it was you who convinced the King to hold this Great Council.”

Lucaera’s jaw tightened. “To ensure both Aemond and my mother have a fair chance.”

Otto studied her carefully. “Do you think your mother—or even Daemon—will respect the realm’s decision if they vote in favour of Aemond?”

Lucaera wanted to say yes, but doubt clawed at her. Her mother perhaps, in time. But Daemon? She wasn’t sure. Instead, she answered carefully, “That is not for me to give voice to, Lord Hand.”

Aemond, sensing her unease through the bond, stepped forward. His voice was firm. “You summoned us for a reason.”

Alicent stood then, smoothing out her skirts. “The letters are being written, the ravens prepared. In a month, the Red Keep will be filled with the lords of the Seven Kingdoms. I would see the two of you married before that.”

Lucaera gasped, her eyes widening. “But, Your Grace, the King—”

Alicent cut her off, her voice gentle but firm. “The King has given his permission for the two of you to wed. The Hand convinced him of its importance. We cannot have a potential heir to the Iron Throne unmarried to the Omega he took to mate—nor can we have a scandal should you find yourself with child.”

Lucaera felt Aemond take her hand, his fingers warm, his touch reassuring.

Helaena turned from the window then, her violet gaze settling on Lucaera. Her voice was distant, almost dreamlike. “A King bathed in silver as another is shrouded in gold.”

Aegon snorted, draining his cup before standing. “May I say congratulations, brother? It’s about time you got it wet—maybe now you’ll stop being such an uptight twat.”

Alicent snapped, “Aegon, that is enough.”

Aegon frowned, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, come now, Mother. It’s just a bit of fun. Tell me, brother, is it different with an Omega? I mean, not that you have a wealth of experience, but still—”

Aemond growled, stepping forward protectively. “That’s enough. You will not speak of such things in the presence of my mate.”

Aegon only laughed, taking another gulp of wine, his gaze flickering over Lucaera appraisingly.

Aemond growled again, louder this time, his body tense.

Alicent intervened swiftly. “The two of you will be wed in the sept—in a week’s time. A simple ceremony with a small number of guests.”

Lucaera swallowed, her heart hammering. “My mother?”

Alicent hesitated before taking Lucaera’s hand, her expression shifting to something softer, almost sympathetic. “Your mother has already left.”

Lucaera’s breath caught. “W-what?”

Otto nodded. “Your mother, Daemon, and your brothers left immediately after the King’s decision.”

Lucaera yanked her hand back, a hollow feeling spreading through her chest. “T-they just left?”

Alicent sighed. “I’m afraid so. With the assurance that they would return within the month for the Great Council’s decision.”

An overwhelming wave of sadness crashed over Lucaera, her throat tightening, her vision blurring with unshed tears. They had left her. They hadn’t even said goodbye.

Otto opened his mouth to say something, but Aemond cut him off sharply. “Not now-”

He could feel her sadness through the bond, and it was breaking his heart.

Alicent noticed the way Lucaera’s eyes shone with tears and, despite everything, she took her hand again, squeezing gently. “I’m sorry-”

Aemond led Lucaera back to his chambers in silence. She had not spoken a word since leaving the Tower of the Hand, her sadness so heavy it felt as though it was crushing the bond between them. He could feel it—the ache, the hollowness that had settled deep inside her.

It hurt worse than any wound he had ever suffered.

When they entered his room, she moved like a ghost, drifting toward the armchair by the fire and sinking into it without a sound. The warm glow of the flames flickered across her face, catching on the single tear that slipped down her cheek.

Aemond crossed the room and knelt before her, resting his head in her lap. He did not speak, did not press her for words she could not yet give.

For a long moment, she didn’t move. Then, finally, her hand lifted, and she began stroking his hair softly.

Aemond closed his eye, breathing in her scent, letting it soothe the turmoil inside him.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered.

Lucaera’s voice, when it finally came, was quiet but firm. “It’s not your fault.”

Aemond lifted his head to look at her, his fingers reaching up to brush away the tear on her cheek. “I never wanted this to happen.”

Lucaera nodded, her fingers still tangled in his hair. “I know.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he hesitated. Then, with quiet determination, he said, “To spare you this pain, I will give up my claim. I will go to the King and—”

“You will do no such thing.”

Her words cut through the room like a blade.

Lucaera’s eyes were sharp, unwavering. “The Great Council is the fairest way to choose between you and my mother. The decision is no longer ours, but in the hands of the realm.”

Aemond searched her face, but there was no doubt there—only certainty.

“What if they choose me over her?” he asked.

Lucaera did not hesitate. “Then they choose you.”

Aemond’s fingers curled around hers. “Do you think Viserys will honour the choice, or find another way to uphold Rhaenyra’s claim?”

Lucaera shook her head. “Once the decision is made, not even the King has the power to see it undone.”

For a moment, they sat in the quiet, only the crackling of the fire between them.

Then, Lucaera’s stomach growled.

Aemond blinked before letting out a small, unexpected laugh. “I shall request food be brought to us—I cannot have my Omega going hungry.”

Lucaera gave him the faintest of nods, watching as he rose from the floor and moved to summon a maid.

Left alone with her thoughts, she exhaled slowly. She understood why her mother was angry—why Daemon and her brothers had turned away from her.

But in time, she hoped they would come to accept what she had done.

It had not been to be cruel. It had not been to elevate herself. It had been to prevent a war.

A few days later, despite not being particularly fond of Alicent, Lucaera found herself dining with her soon-to-be good-mother.

She reasoned that it was wise to make an effort to be at least somewhat cordial to Aemond’s mother, even if the woman had spent years opposing her own.

They discussed the wedding, and Alicent suggested a small celebration afterward. Lucaera, who had no desire for anything extravagant, readily agreed.

Not that grandeur had ever been an option, given the limited time they had to plan.

She had written to her mother, apologizing and explaining why she had done what she did. But no response had come.

She had also written to her brothers, asking them to attend her wedding. Again—silence.

The lack of reply gave her pause.

Aemond had offered so readily to give up his claim, yet her mother remained steadfast in her desire for the throne.

Was it truly about her birthright, or was it something deeper? Did Rhaenyra not know who she was without the Iron Throne?

Lucaera realized she might never fully understand the answer to that question.

Her thoughts were pulled back to the present as Alicent prattled on about the importance of being a faithful wife—of not seeking pleasures elsewhere.

Without thinking, Lucaera confidently assured the Queen, “Aemond pleases me well enough that I have no need to seek another.”

The moment the words left her mouth, she realized what she had said—and to whom.

A deep flush spread across her cheeks. “I—I mean—my apologies, your Grace.”

Alicent furrowed her brow, lips pressing into a thin line before she eventually inclined her head in acceptance.

Later that evening, when Lucaera recounted the moment to Aemond, he feigned scandal.

“You said that to my mother?”

Lucaera groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Yes, and I wanted to sink into the floor the moment I did.”

Aemond smirked. “Perhaps I should be offended—speaking so boldly of our affairs to my own mother”

But through their bond, she could sense his amusement.

Lucaera huffed, shoving at his chest playfully. “You’re awful.”

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her against him. “And yet, you still agreed to marry me.”

For a moment, they laughed together, their bond warming with shared mirth.

Then a knock at the door.

A maid entered, bowing briefly before announcing, “Princess, your belongings from Dragonstone have arrived in port.”

The laughter faded instantly and Lucaera’s heart twisted painfully.

She had known, of course, that she would likely not be returning to Dragonstone, but to have her belongings packed and shipped out with such haste—it stung.

When the trunks were delivered to Aemond’s chambers, Lucaera wasted no time going through them, searching for a letter or a note—some sign that her mother or brothers had thought of her beyond simply packing her things and sending them away.

But she found nothing.

Aemond, who had been standing beside her, felt it all—the sharp cut of her despair, and the ache of abandonment.

Silently, he reached for her, pulling her close, tucking her against his chest. His scent filling her senses.

But still, the pain lingered.

Aemond stood tall beside the High Septon, his figure composed and unwavering. He was dressed simply—black tunic, his Targaryen cloak tied loosely around his shoulders.

His long silver hair was tied back in its usual half-up, half-down style, the candlelight from the Sept casting an ethereal glow upon him.

The horns sounded, signalling the beginning of the ceremony.

Lucaera took a deep breath, preparing herself to walk alone.

But just as she stepped forward, a familiar voice murmured at her side.

“You shouldn’t walk alone.”

She turned, startled, to find Aegon standing beside her, offering his arm.

Lucaera’s lips parted in surprise, but after a beat, she smiled and took his offered arm. “Thank you.”

Aegon gave a brief nod, his usual smirk softened into something kind.

The great doors swung open, and Lucaera instinctively turned toward them, her heart hammering with hope.

Perhaps her mother had come after all. Perhaps her brothers had changed their minds.

They would come in and they would sit and watch as she married her mate- they would smile and join in the celebrations, they would-

-But the doorway remained empty.

Lucaera swallowed hard, pushing down the sharp pang of disappointment, and turned back to Aegon. He gazed at her knowingly, his expression surprisingly gentle.

“It’s their loss,” he said simply.

She nodded, composing herself. And together, they began the slow walk toward Aemond and the waiting Septon.

“Thank you for escorting the bride, my prince,” the Septon said as they reached the altar. “If you would be so kind as to wait while the Princess removes her maiden cloak.”

Lucaera’s fingers found the ties of her maiden cloak, undoing them carefully before slipping the garment from her shoulders. She handed it to Aegon, who accepted it with an unexpected reverence.

With a final nod, he turned and took his seat beside Alicent, Helaena, and Otto.

“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.”

Aemond stepped forward, his face unreadable, but his eye was impossibly soft as he gazed at Lucaera.

He removed his heavy Targaryen cloak, its black and red fabric rich with the sigil of their house, and carefully draped it around her shoulders.

Then, he took her hand in his.

The Septon tied their hands together with a crimson ribbon, the silk warm against Lucaera’s skin.

“In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Now, you may look upon one another and speak your vows.”

Lucaera inhaled shakily, her lip wobbling slightly as she whispered, “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am his, and he is mine, from this day until the end of my days.”

Aemond’s voice was clear, steady, and unwavering as he declared, “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am hers, and she is mine, from this day until the end of my days.”

“The vows have been spoken.” The Septon raised his hands in blessing. “You may now kiss your bride.”

Aemond didn’t hesitate.

He leaned forward, his lips meeting Lucaera’s in a soft, lingering kiss—one filled with the weight of everything unspoken, of the moment that had led them here.

As he pulled away, his fingers brushed over her cheek, and in a voice only she could hear, he murmured,

“Ñuhon.” (Mine).

The dining hall was lit with the warm glow of candlelight, casting flickering shadows across the table where the small gathering was held in celebration of Aemond and Lucaera’s wedding.

The feast was modest compared to the extravagant affairs usually held in the Red Keep, but it was intimate—just their family, or at least, those who had deigned to attend.

Viserys sat at the head of the table, looking more ghost than king, his skin pale, his breathing laboured.

Alicent sat beside him, ever the devoted wife, though her sharp gaze often flickered toward Lucaera with something akin to sympathy and Otto, composed as always, observed in silence.

Aegon was already into his cups and Helaena picked absently at the food on her plate, her mind seemingly lost elsewhere.

And Daeron, the youngest, was polite but somewhat reserved, offering quiet congratulations and speaking only when spoken to.

Lucaera sat beside Aemond, quiet, pushing her food around her plate rather than eating it.

Aemond, feeling her sorrow as keenly as his own through their bond, silently cursed Rhaenyra, Jacaerys, and Lucerys.

Despite his hatred for his half-sister and her Strong bastards, they could have at least shown their faces. They could have tried to make amends.

Instead, their absence only served as another wound inflicted upon his wife and mate.

He slid his hand beneath the table, resting it gently on Lucaera’s thigh. His grip was firm but comforting, his thumb tracing small, soothing circles.

Lucaera glanced at him, offering a small, appreciative smile, but the sadness lingered in her eyes.

Aegon, ever the one to disrupt, leaned forward and grinned.

“Well, I guess it falls to me to ensure my new good-sister enjoys her wedding night.”

Aemond growled low in his throat, but Aegon ignored him completely and extended his hand toward Lucaera.

“Dance with me, Princess.”

Lucaera hesitated, glancing at Aemond, who looked ready to lunge across the table and rip Aegon’s throat out.

But then she saw the mischief in Aegon’s eyes. So she took his hand.

Aegon smirked and pulled her to her feet, leading her toward the open space where the soft notes of a harp and viol filled the hall. With surprising grace, he twirled her in time with the music, guiding her effortlessly through the steps.

Aemond, watching from his seat, clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening into a fist. But then he noticed something—Lucaera was smiling.

The sorrow in her scent had lightened, giving way to something softer, something lighter.

With a surprising burst of movement, Helaena rose from her chair and stepped onto the floor, reaching for Lucaera’s hands.

Aegon let go without protest, returning to the table and pouring himself another goblet of wine as his sister and Lucaera twirled together, giggling as they spun in soft circles.

Aemond watched, and for a moment, he allowed himself to relax.

As they moved, Helaena suddenly leaned in and murmured, “A King bathed in silver as another is shrouded in gold.”

Lucaera frowned. “You’ve said that before.”

Helaena smiled softly. “People think I’m strange.”

Lucaera squeezed her hands. “I don’t think you’re strange.”

Helaena’s smile brightened. “We shall be firm friends, you and I.”

They danced a little while longer, their laughter quiet but genuine—until a familiar, rasping voice interrupted.

Aemond’s breath was warm against Lucaera’s ear as he murmured, “Time for the bedding, my wife.”

Lucaera laughed. “You had me this morning before we were wed.”

Aemond leaned in even closer, his lips barely brushing her ear. “And I shall have you again.”

A shiver ran down Lucaera’s spine as she felt his desire through their bond, as potent and intoxicating as dragon fire.

Aemond smirked at the effect he had on her and took her hand, excusing them both as he practically dragged her from the hall.

Aegon, watching them leave, chuckled into his wine. “Well, at least one of us is getting laid tonight”

Once they were inside their chambers, Aemond didn’t hesitate. His lips found hers in a fierce, hungry kiss.

With a soft growl, Aemond moved her away from the wall and began pulling at the ties of her dress.

“Don’t rip it-” urged Lucaera as she took a step back and pulled open the silken material and let it fall to the floor.

Aemond smirked as he gazed her naked body before he eagerly pulled off his own clothes, leaving them both bare.

Aemond circled Lucaera slowly, his steps measured and deliberate, his eye tracing every curve of her body like a predator hungrily stalking its prey.

There was an intensity in the way he moved, his gaze devouring her from every angle as if he were committing every inch of her to memory.

With a commanding presence, he stepped back from Lucaera, his voice low and authoritative as he spoke.

"Kneel" he ordered, his words cutting through the thick air of the room.

Without hesitation, Lucaera obeyed. She sank gracefully to her knees, her eyes never leaving Aemond's as she positioned herself in front of him, her posture submissive yet confident, entirely at his mercy.

Slowly, Aemond reached down and caressed Lucaera’s cheek, his touch gentle and reverent despite the raw desire simmering beneath the surface.

His thumb brushed over her soft skin, tracing the line of her jaw before he brought it to her plump lower lip, pressing against it with a possessive tenderness.

“Open your mouth,” he murmured, his tone commanding yet intimate.

Lucaera, eager to please him, parted her lips without hesitation, her breath warm against his thumb as she obeyed his command.

Aemond smirked and then spat into her mouth.

“Swallow” he ordered.

Lucaera closed her mouth and smiled as she swallowed.

“Sȳz riña” muttered Aemond (Good girl).

“Ivestragī nyke kostilus ao ñuha zaldrīzes” whispered Lucaera (Let me please you my dragon).

“Skorkydoso?” asked Aemond curiously (How?)

Lucaera smiled and rose higher on her knees she placed her hands on Aemond, slowly moving them up his lean body, her fingers tracing the contours of his muscles.

She felt the tremble in his body as her nails scraped lightly across his skin, and he groaned low in his throat, the sound primal, raw with desire.

Her touch held him captive, and as her hands continued their slow, torturous path, she whispered to him, her voice soft but commanding.

“Take off your eyepatch, I wish to gaze upon your beauty in its entirety”

Aemond hesitated for only a moment, his lips parting in a quiet whimper, the sound so rare for him, so vulnerable.

She knew what her words, her praise, did to him—how they disarmed him in ways no one else could.

His heart raced in his chest, and the possessiveness in him faltered for just a second, replaced by something deeper, more intimate.

Without a word, Aemond reached up and pulled the eyepatch from his face, the black leather slipping from his fingers to fall carelessly to the floor.

Lucaera gazed up at him, a soft smile curving her lips as her eyes traced over his face.

The sapphire, so stark and striking, only added to the beauty that was uniquely his.

“Ñuha gevie zaldrīzes”  whispered Lucaera, her voice laced with adoration (My beautiful dragon).

Aemond’s breath hitched at her words, his body responding to the warmth of her gaze and the tenderness in her voice. She saw all of him—the scars, the vulnerabilities—and still, she called him beautiful.

It was a power she wielded over him that no one else could ever claim.

Lucaera leaned forward and pressed a series of tender kisses to his bare stomach, her lips brushing against his pale skin.

Aemond closed his eye and let out a low groan as he felt her teeth grazing against him.

His hand instinctively moved to her hair, his fingers weaving through the dark strands as he tilted his head back, his chest rising and falling with laboured breaths.

His voice, deep and rough with need, cut through the silence like a blade.

“Kostilus” he rasped, his voice a low growl, urging her on (Please).

As Lucaera continued her trail of kisses, Aemond’s grip on her hair tightened, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His eye was half-lidded, his focus entirely on the woman kneeling before him.

She grinned as she looked up at Aemond before taking one of his stones into her mouth, her tongue teasing the soft delicate flesh.

“FUCK” moaned Aemond.

“Does ñuha dārys like that?” asked Lucaera (My King).

“Oh. Gods. Yes” whimpered Aemond.

“What was that?” asked Lucaera as she moved to the other and caressed it with her tongue.

“Kostilus” begged Aemond (Please).

“Ao līs umbagon ñuha zaldrīzes” replied Lucaera (You must wait, my dragon).

Aemond stared down Lucaera, his mouth hanging open as her warm, wet mouth wrapped around the head of his cock.

Her tongue gently moving around the tip – tracing the ridges and licking off that drops of pre-cum that had started to leak out.

“Fuck, Lucaera” groaned Aemond as he threaded his fingers through her hair.

Lucaera ran the flat of her tongue along Aemond’s length, tracing every hard inch of him. Her hand moving over the hard length of him.

“You’re taking me so well-” moaned Aemond as Lucaera took his cock in her mouth, the base already thickening with the beginnings of his knot.

Lucaera slid her other hand around Aemond’s body and grasped the flesh of his arse, digging her nails into his skin.

“That’s it-FUCK-yes-don’t stop” groaned Aemond, his hips thrusting faster.

Lucaera responded to his statement by relaxing the back of her throat, and swallowing his cock, her head moving back and forth, stopping just before his knot.

“Shit-Lucaera I’m going to spill. Oh, fuck, I’m going to-” shouted Aemond his head tipped back as he exploded.

Lucaera took every last drop, swallowing his warm seed and licking him clean. When Aemond recovered, he saw her self-satisfied smile.

Aemond as he watched his softened cock slip from Lucaera’s mouth and leave a trail of seed dribbling down her chin.

“Such a messy Prince-” muttered Lucaera as she put a finger to her chin and wiped away the seed only to put the finger into her mouth.

“Fuck” muttered Aemond, his cock twitching.

“What is it you desire now?” asked Lucaera.

Aemond offered her his hand and pulled her from the floor, he shuddered when the warmth of her body pressed against his, her hand released his and trailed up his arm, her nails scraping against his skin.

“I want-” whispered Aemond as Lucaera coiled her fingers in his long hair and gently tugged at the silver strands.

“-What do you want?”

“I want you to ride my face until I’m ready again” gasped Aemond

“Are you sure” asked Lucaera.

“Sit on my fucking face” ordered Aemond as he moved away from her and laid on the bed.

Lucaera climbed onto the bed and  hovered above Aemond’s face; her knees splayed on either side of his head.

“Such a pretty cunny-" breathed Aemond as he ran the flat of his tongue along Lucaera’s soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Lucaera her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it ñuha dōna. Let me hear you” (My sweet).

“YES. It feels so good. Don’t stop. Aemond. Please” begged Lucaera.

“FUCK” growled Aemond.

“Ooooh A-Aemond” shrieked Lucaera.

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Lucaera, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Lucaera "Please. I need more”.

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds.

“Oh" whimpered Lucaera; her chest heaving as she began to gently roll her hips against him.

“That’s it, ride my fucking face” groaned Aemond as he pulled Lucaera closer.

“N-No A-Aemond you’ll suffocate” exclaimed Lucaera.

“When I said sit on my fucking face, I didn’t mean hover. I want your entire cunt on my face. Now do as you are told-” ordered Aemond as he wrapped his hands around her thighs and pulled her further onto his face, his nose rubbing on her pearl.

Lucaera was now giving off a slew of whispered swear words, moans, and pleas as she moved her hips.

“Yes-yes, don’t stop” moaned Lucaera.

 Aemond then rolled her onto the bed, her back colliding with the soft mattress with a dull thud.

“Ohhh Aemond” whined Lucaera at the sudden movement.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. I don’t want to wait any longer, come for me baby,” moaned Aemond, his face pressed between her shaking thighs, his fingers curling inside her.

Finally, he felt Lucaera’s inner walls start to flutter around his fingers, squeezing them. Lucaera’s back arched taut as a bow and she screamed her release.

“Hmm” muttered Aemond as he pressed a series of kisses to her inner thighs, his teeth nipping at her skin.

“P-Please A-Aemond. Need you” begged Lucaera.

Aemond rose to his knees, his chin shining with her slick, he smirked as he swiped his fingers over his chin and then placed them in his mouth savouring her delicious taste.

Aemond moved up Lucaera’s body pausing to grasp hold of her left breast as he ran his tongue over the rosy nipple, his teeth grazing the stiffened peak.

“Oh-yes“ gasped Lucaera, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention.

“-Issa ābrazȳrys, glaeson-ñuhon” growled Aemond as he seized his wife’s lips in a ferocious kiss, his hard cock throbbing against her thigh (My wife-my life-mine).

Aemond wrapped a hand around his cock and slowly ran it over Lucaera’s wet entrance, she began squirming impatiently against him as he continued to tease her.

“P-Please, I want you” exclaimed Lucaera desperately.

“Hmm” rasped Aemond as he slid inside her with a singular thrust. His hips coming to a stop against hers.

Aemond started to thrust slowly, trying to prolong the feel of her squeezing his cock.

"Faster, Aemond" begged Lucaera.

"Patience, ñuha dōna" chided Aemond as he ran his nose up her neck (My sweet).

“Yes, Aemond, just like that-" panted Lucaera.

Her hands ran over his arms, over his shoulders. Her fingernails raking down his back.

“Mark me harder-“ growled Aemond.

Lucaera dug her nails into his skin and clawed at his back deep enough to draw blood.

The fire between them was unmistakable, an unrestrained passion that filled the room with heat and tension so thick it was almost suffocating.

 “Gods-" grunted Aemond, speeding up slightly, revelling in the pain.

"Fuck me, Aemond. Fuck me with that big, cock of yours. You feel so good inside me”.

Aemond groaned loudly, knew exactly what Lucaera was doing, but he couldn’t help himself. She wanted faster, he was going much faster now.

His pace had increased with every filthy word that dropped from her luscious lips. Now he was quickly thrusting in and out, shaking the bed, the headboard banging loudly against the stone wall.

Aemond lifted Lucaera’s legs onto his shoulders, and wrapped his arms around her thighs, squeezing them together as he thrust his cock into her soaking wet cunny.

“Aemond! I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Lucaera.

“That’s it baby-come for me” exclaimed Aemond as he felt her clenching on his cock.

Aemond could feel the tension building in his abdomen, but he didn’t want to spill his seed. Not yet.

Not even waiting for her orgasm to fully subside, Aemond moved Lucaera’s legs off his shoulders and quickly manoeuvred her onto all fours, she whimpered as his cock slipped out, but he bent forward to press a series of kisses to her glorious arse, his large hands kneading the soft pale flesh, before he sunk his teeth into her.

“AEMOND” squealed Lucaera.

“Hmmm”

Aemond moved into position and sheathed himself inside Lucaera once again, his eye rolling into the back of his head.

“FUCK-” groaned Aemond,

“God. Yes. Aemond” moaned Lucaera.

Aemond began to thrust in and out of her in deep achingly slow thrusts.

“Harder-more-please ñuha raqiarzy” wailed Lucaera (My beloved).

“Issa vaogenka hāedar” growled Aemond, as he moved faster (My dirty girl).

“Aemond-”

“That’s it-take it-take all of me” muttered Aemond as he dug his fingers into Lucaera’s hips and increased the pace of his thrusts.

Lucaera took one of Aemonds hands that was on her hip and brought it to the back of her head.

Knowing what she wanted, Aemond placed his hand on the back of her head and pushed her face into the mattress, her back arching.

His cock reaching deep inside her as he moved with such ferocity it could rival an animal, his long silver hair unbound and sticking to his sweaty back.

Aemond then grasped both of Lucaera’s arms and held them behind her back as he pounded into her, the sound of his hips slapping against hers echoed around the room.

Lucaera’s cries of pleasure were muffled by the mattress, her face buried in the soft fabric.

Her body arched in response to Aemond’s relentless rhythm, each cry escaping her lips in a series of desperate moans that reverberated through the room.

Aemond’s grip on Lucaera was fierce, his movements relentless. He drove into her with a force that seemed almost brutal, but Lucaera took every thrust with an almost frantic eagerness.

Her body trembled under him, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she surrendered completely to the intensity of their coupling.

“Fuck-that’s it-that’s it-” moaned Aemond.

He released Lucaera’s arms and then took hold of her long hair, twisting his fingers into the tousled strands before he pulled her backwards, her sweaty back colliding with his chest.

Aemond held her tight too him as he fucked her, his cock reaching deep inside her.

One hand grasped her hip, his blunt fingers digging into her flesh. Whilst his other released her hair and moved to her throat, squeezing gently.

“Give it to me please” pleaded Lucaera her head lolling back onto Aemond’s shoulder, her arm reaching behind her to tangle in his hair as their lips connected in a messy, passionate kiss.

Aemond could feel the tension building in his abdomen again, as he thrust his cock inside Lucaera, his knot forming.

“I want you to come on my cock again, but not like this-” muttered Aemond as he once again withdrew from her wet heat and laid across the bed.

“-Aemond” exclaimed Lucaera breathlessly.

 “Ride me-” replied Aemond as he pulled her on top of him. His hand moving to his cock, rubbing it along her folds before she sunk down and completely engulfed him.

 “Yes-” gasped Lucaera as she rolled her hips against Aemonds.

“That’s it, take it. Take all of me”.

Aemond placed his hands on her hips and marvelled at Lucaera as she rode him.

Lucaera dug her nails into Aemond’s chest as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.

“A-Aemond” moaned Lucaera as he suddenly sat up, moving his hand to her breast again and taking her nipple into his mouth, his teeth biting down on the rosy bud.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me” exclaimed Aemond, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention.

“AEMOND” screamed Lucaera her vision going white as she came around his cock.

He pulled her closer and then rolled her back onto the bed his cock never leaving her warmth as he pounded into her with a series of deep penetrating thrusts, her legs wrapped around his waist, trapping his body against hers as he chased his own end.

Aemond’s grip on Lucaera tightened as he neared his own climax, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more forceful, his knot catching on her until he gave one last deep thrust, forcing his knot inside her, locking them together as he exploded.

Aemond’s body tensed against Lucaera’s, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he rode out his orgasm.

Then, as his pleasure subsided, he collapsed onto her, his chest heaving as he relaxed against her.

Lucaera’s body shifted slightly beneath him, her own breath coming in soft, satisfied sighs as she remained still, embracing the weight of him.

She looked up at Aemond with a tender, gaze, her hands caressing his back as he rested against her, his breathing gradually slowing.

TBC

[russellsppttemplates]

My girls (Lance Stroll)

Lance gave Juno one job: to make sure his girls were looked after while he was away at a triple header

Note: english is not my first language. My baby fever has been through the roof lately, and while I was working on this, another blurb came through for dad!Lance, so I joined them.

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: reader is pregnant

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"Have you seen Juno?", Margot asked her older sister while she did her homework, "where's mummy? She usually is where mummy is", Addalynn smiled, "I just need to finish this question and then I can go downstairs with you, wait a bit for me, please", she asked.

Margot waited for her, standing by her desk and watching curiously as her older sister wrote on her notebook until she finished, tidying her desk and storing the notebook back in her backpack, "we can go downstairs now", she smiled, holding Margot's hand and going down the stairs with her, the patter from Luna's paws and nails on the floor telling them you were in the kitchen.

You had only read about it in books, and since Luna had only been in your family for a little over a year, you never experienced being pregnant while having a dog. So far, besides your two daughters, you also had a four-pawed shadow following you around, "Luna, you can't get all tangled between my ankles, okay? Mummy can't see you that well anymore, only your tail every now and again", you giggled as you looked for her snout, hearing the girls approaching you.

"I knew she'd be here", Addy whispered to Margot as she called the dog, sitting on the floor to play with the dog.

"Are you hungry, girls? I can make you something before we sit down for dinner", you offered, figuring that dinner would still take a while to be ready.

"No, we just wanted to play with Juno", Margot said, pulling on the rope material so Juno could pull back.

"I finished my homework, too, and we knew Juno would be where you were", Addalynn added as you blushed slightly, "she's following daddy's request to look after you!", both girls giggled.

"She's looking after all of us - but I think she does come to stay with me whenever she wants a rest", you winked, "she knows I won't go too far too quickly", you offered.

When you finished dinner and tidying up with the girls' help, they were quick to go to the living room, turning on the TV and finding the channel.

"Is daddy on track yet?", you asked, ushering Juno to her spot on the sofa by your left before you sat down next to the girls on your right.

"Lizzie was saying they're going to start soon", Addy added as she unfolded the blanket on top of her and Margot's legs, "do you want some of the blanket too?", she asked.

"I have mine here, love, thank you, though", you smiled, arranging it under your bump carefully as you stretched your legs on the footstool, "Oh, forgot my pillow", you mumbled, changing your position.

"I'll get it, mummy!", Margot offered, getting the pillow you needed and placing it under your feet, "is it good?", she checked.

"It is, sweetheart, thank you", you smiled at her attentiveness as she climbed back on the sofa.

"Daddy is going really fast!", Margot pointed out, "is this the one where he could win?".

"This is practice still, the one where he can go for the pole position is much later and you will be asleep by then", you stated, not wanting to bend their bedtime routine even more than you were already doing.

"Okay", they said in unison, respecting your orders. Overall, they were pretty good at following what you asked them to do, usually only throwing tantrums when they were really tired and understanding what could and couldn't be negotiated pretty well. Of course they were still kids and had their developmental needs and challenges, but you also had an inkling that Lance had spoken to them about how they needed to behave extra well since he wouldn't be coming home for three weeks.

.

You rolled to Lance's side of the bed, finding Luna already looking at you, "the girls are not up yet?", you mused, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

Getting up gently, allowing your back and hips to stretch properly and readying yourself to go back to spending most of the day in a standing position, "Good morning, baby girl, you're up too, at least, you can keep me and Juno company", you smiled, rubbing your bump softly as you felt her movements, little feet kicking your ribs gently for now.

The silence didn't last for too long as when you were getting yourself dressed, Juno's ears popped when she heard noise, leaving you briefly to go to the girls' bedrooms. Putting on your lounge wear set and making sure it would be stretchy enough around your bump you stepped into the corridor to find your two curly haired girls petting Juno.

"Good morning, mummy! Did you sleep well?", Addalynn asked, coming close to give you a hug.

"Good morning, my loves. I did, did you?", you kissed the top of her head before kissing Margot's as well, hugging her too, "I'm going to let Juno out in the garden so she can do her business, are you coming down now?", you wondered as you picked out comfy clothes for them.

"I'll go in a bit - I need to pee!", Margot let you know before speeding to the bathroom.

You opened the back door for Juno first and then started making breakfast.

The doorbell rang, making Juno go up to the door with you, and once you opened it, she barked loudly at the man holding a box, "Juno, it's okay!", you assured her as she took a protective stance in front of you, "she's harmless, really, but she will bark at anyone she doesn't know, I'm sorry if she scared you", you told him.

"It's fine, no worries, I used to have one just like her when my children were younger", the delivery man, "Y/N Stroll, right? These two boxes are for you, may I?", he asked, wanting to help you by at least putting the package on top of the table near the door.

"Sure, thank you! Juno, come here!", you called the brown labrador so she wouldn't get in the way.

"There you go", he said, "I hope you have a good day!", he waved as he walked back to the car.

"Thank you, you too!", you waved back before closing the door.

The girls walked down the stairs, Addalynn in the outfit you picked out and Margot holding her clothes on her hand, "who was that, mummy?".

"A delivery man - we got two packages. Do you need help getting dressed, love?", you asked Margot, who nodded as she looked at the smaller box.

"Can we see what's inside?", Addalynn quesioned.

"Sure, you girls do that one while I do this one", you encouraged, ripping the tape on the box on the table to see a beautiful bunch of flowers along with a card.

I can't wait to be back home, I miss you girls so much!

There are some flowers for you and the girls and a little treat for Juno, too - figured she wouldn't be the most gentle with a plant!

I love you!

- Lance

"Mummy, this one has flowers, too!", Margot showed you two smaller bunches of flowers and a bag with some dog treats.

"These are from daddy! This one is for me, each of those is for you and then some treats for Juno", you explained, showing them the card so Addalynn could read it out loud as you carried the flowers to the kitchen so you could put them in water.

"Let's take a photo and send it to daddy, okay? Smile big, my loves!", you cheered, snapping a cute photo of the girls, Juno and the flowers and sending it to Lance.

Even though it was late where he was, your husband still sent you a text with many heart emojis and then another one reading "these are three of my favourite girls, and I would like to see the other two 👀".

Taking a selfie in the mirrow on the hallway, perfectly showing your baby bump, you sent it back to Lance, earning the same reaction to the first one you sent.

After having breakfast, you sat on the sofa to watch the qualifying session, the girls laying out their Lego sets, "daddy didn't tell you in which position he was starting?", Addy mused.

"No, I told him we would watch it today and I stayed away from the news, too, so I have no idea what's going to happen", you offered, pressing play on the remote to start the program.

Juno was quick to recognise Lance, getting up from her spot where she rested her head on your legs, tail wagging, "yes, Juno, that's daddy!", Margot squealed.

"Does that mean daddy got P3?", Addalynn asked as the voice over as they filmed the paddock spoke about a penalty, "yes, he goes up a place", you smiled.

Later on the night, your baby girl couldn't seem to settle so sleep wasn't coming by easily, "if your sisters find out that you're keeping me up so we can watch daddy's race, we're going to be in trouble", you spoke, fluffing the pillows as Juno looked up at you, "you can't tell anyone either, okay?", you warned the dog as you set up you iPad on your bedside table.

Lance ended up in second place, the podium celebrations showing his happiness as he sprayed the champagne on the other drivers, "mummy's tired, baby girl, and daddy is flying back soon", you tried to soothe her by rubbing your bump, hoping she would slow down enough for you to sleep once you turned off the streaming channel.

.

Lance couldn't wait to be back home, getting his luggage from the plane as soon as he could before he walked to his car, putting all his belongings inside and driving home to his family. Triple headers were hard as it was, but now that he had his family waiting back home, they were even harder.

He closed the garage door and parked the car, taking his luggage to the laundry room before expecting to meet the girls at the corridor but finding the whole floor empty.

Lance found you napping on his side of the bed, the girls napping on your side and Juno by the feet of the bed.

Smiling at the view, he walked up gently to you, Juno alert as she sensed someone else in the room and barking before noticing it was Lance, stepping closer to him to rub her snout on his legs, "hey, Juno, you did a good job here from what I can see!", he scratched her ears.

The girls stirred in their sleep, blinking their eyes a couple of times before looking at him, "hey, girls", he whispered.

"Daddy!", they yelled, making him kneel on the floor so he could hug them closely, "I missed you princesses so so so much", he said, inhaling their scent and squeezing their bodies closer to his.

"We missed you too, daddy", Margot said, kissing his cheek while Addalynn nodded, snuggling herself closer to Lance.

You turned on your side, opening your eyes to see Lance and the girls, "you're home already?", you croaked out, a sleepy smile on your lips.

Lance climbed up on the bed so he could hug you close, "I am, love", he greeted as his arms wrapped around your body.

"Hello, my love", you whispered against his lips before kissing him, feeling his hands rub your bump

"Hey, darling", he said once he let go of the kiss, "baby girl has grown so much these past weeks, hm?", he smiled, pecking your lips, "you're so beautiful, Y/N - isn't it true, girls? Mummy looks so beautiful", he added as they nodded, "I have all of my beautiful girls with me", he pulled them into the hug, squeezing you together for a family cuddle.

[halsteadlover]

A New Milestone

*Gif not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Fem!Reader.

• Requested: no.

• Summary: your daughter just started kindergarten and both you and, especially, Jay didn’t imagine how difficult seeing her grow up would be.

• Warnings: none, just fluff and ugly ass writing as usual.

• Word count: 2631.

• A/N: I was just craving some Dad!Jay fics so here it is one. I’m sorry if there are any mistakes. I hope you’ll like this fic, please let me know what you think and comment, like and reblog if you want. As always, thank you so much for everyone who supported and who’s supporting me ❤️ I love you all.

The big day had arrived.

Needless to say, neither you nor Jay were ready and, nothing, no instructions, no manuals, no googled blogs, would’ve prepared you on how tough this moment was going to be.

Your little girl was starting kindergarten and you couldn't be more desperate than you already were.

You tried not to get carried away by emotions, not wanting to be one of those oppressive mothers or always with teary eyes in front of your daughter – you’d do that later – but Jay didn't seem to be doing a very good job.

The situation was tragicomic, because on one side there was your little Sofia who was running left and right, excited and overjoyed to start kindergarten, and on the other there was Jay, who was on the verge of a nervous breakdown and having a crying spell.

“What does my beautiful girl want to eat for a snack?” you asked as she was giggling with her dad. Jay wouldn't let her go, he held her as long as possible like he was going to never see her again. They were standing next to you and he didn't even seem to notice you were there as he showered her with kisses on her plump cheeks and cradled her in his arms.

“Lots of chocolate chip cookies!” she exclaimed, her green eyes shining as she toyed with her favorite puppet, a little Frozen doll obviously brought by her father.

“Nah-ah miss, you tried it, you already ate a lot of them,” you replied approaching her and leaving a kiss on her cheek before starting to prepare her snack bag.

“If my little girl wants chocolate chip cookies, she's going to have chocolate chip cookies,” Jay interjected, and you rolled your eyes, knowing you weren't going to win this debate. Sofia let out a little scream of excitement, throwing her little arms around her father's neck who hugged her even more and caressing her back. “My precious big girl.”

“Incredible,” you mumbled, trying to hide the smile that threatened to grow on your lips.

With everything prepped, it was time to drop her off at kindergarten, and needless to say neither you or Jay were ready.

You noticed how quiet he was, not speaking unless absolutely necessary. During the car ride, little Sofia kept saying how happy she was to start, to make new friends and to be with her friend Lucy. She was so exuberant you sometimes wondered where she got this side of her character from.

Jay said almost nothing, just glanced from time to time at his daughter in the rearview mirror, while his heart tightened with sadness at the thought he’d soon have to leave her.

“We're here honey,” was one of the few things he said after pulling into the kindergarten parking lot.

“Okay baby are you sure you don't want to go home with mom and dad?” Jay asked as he knelt down next to Sofia.

“Jay!”.

“Hey I'm just saying... There's still time if you want to think about it princess okay?”.

“No papa I want to go! I see you later, don't be sad,” Sofia tried to confront him and you internally bite your cheeks to prevent you from crying in front of her. She was only four but she was so emotionally intelligent.

“I'm not sad princess, I'm just very proud of you. You're a big girl now,” Jay replied, trying to keep himself calm as well. He stroked the girl's hair, then leaving a kiss on her forehead “Dad loves you very very much you know that right?”.

She nodded vigorously. “I love you too much dada and I love mommy too. But can we go?”.

“Give me a hug first.”

She hugged her father, who held her as if she was going to war and not coming home for a long time. He tried to savor every second of that hug, aware his baby girl was getting older, that the more time went by, the fewer hugs he’d receive, and this broke his heart.

When it was your turn to say goodbye to Sofia you couldn't hold back your tears, squeezing and stroking your little girl's hair as you hugged her. “I love you so much baby always remember that, and if you need anything mom and dad are always here.”

“I know mama, I love you so much too!”.

Seeing her run inside her kindergarten was a scene that generated a series of conflicting emotions.

On one hand you were so happy, knowing she was growing up, that she was starting to taste some independence, that she was going to make friends and start exploring the world. On the other hand… Damn it, it was so hard because all you wanted was to have her always with you, forever.

You glanced at Jay who was staring at the kindergarten, a melancholy and sad expression on his face.

“Are you okay baby?” you asked him as you intertwined your fingers with his. He brought his eyes to you and looked at you for a moment before nodding. “We can go.”

You walked back hand in hand to the car but he didn't utter a word and, after so many years you've been together, you knew when he was so quiet it was because he tried to suppress his emotions.

When he got into the car, he took a deep breath trying to swallow the lump in his throat before starting the car but the moment he glanced at the back seats and saw Sofia's empty seat, he couldn't control himself anymore and tears began to running down his cheeks.

He felt so ridiculous, he cried when his daughter was only few feet away and she was totally fine.

But he couldn't control it, she was his little girl, his precious princess and he was still so in disbelief she had reached this new milestone. He remembered as if it were yesterday when he picked her up for the first time as a newborn, how afraid he was of accidentally hurting her and now she was grown up, she had even started kindergarten.

He felt an immeasurable love for his daughter, a love that cannot be described in words. He would’ve given her the world if she wanted, the moon and the stars if she asked and knowing he wasn't there with her in that moment, that if she fell he wouldn't be there to dry her tears, that he wasn’t going to feed her, to help her with her hair, to play with her… Man, he felt an abyss in his chest.

You placed a hand on his arm and caressed him before hugging him to try to comfort him. Seeing him cry like that, for his little girl, did nothing but make you even more sure than you already were that you couldn't have made a better choice, you couldn't have chosen a better father for your children.

“It's okay baby, cry all you want,” you whispered, your voice broken by the tears that you too had been shedding continuously for at least half an hour.

“I don't want… Man… I don't want her to grow up so fast,” he mumbled. He pulled away from the hug, and as soon as you looked at each other you chuckled through tears, noting the condition you both were in.

“Oh God…” he sighed, handing you a handkerchief and taking one for himself with which he dried his tears.

“How is it possible she’s already in kindergarten Jay?” you shook your head in disbelief.

“Tell me about it… Our baby is getting so big.”

You nodded, sniffling as you tried to pull yourself together and regain control of yourself. “How about we go home and watch videos of her as a new born and keep crying?”.

Jay burst out laughing, giving you a kiss on the lips. “Sounds like a great idea to me love.”

And that was exactly what you did for the next few hours, with ice cream and tears in full super drama style.

When it came time to pick up Sofia, Jay looked like a kid about to go buy his favorite toy, he couldn't wait for his baby to finish and to be able to hug her again.

It was the first time he had been separated from her for so long and God only knew how much he hated it.

You couldn't stop looking at him and smiling, watching how happy he was as he packed her snacks with all of her favorite treats. No wonder why he was the favorite parent and you the bad one.

“Don't you dare take anything away,” he warned you and you threw up your hands in surrender. “My little girl deserves to be pampered after today. Do you think she’ll be tired? Did she eat? I swear to God if they didn't feed her...”

“Babe, stop,” you grabbed his face as you chuckled “She's fine, she's even forgotten about us.”

The expression of pure horror and dismay with which he looked at you as you said these words made you burst into laughter. “My little girl didn’t forget about me, I’m her father, don’t you dare ever again say such things.”

“Oh Jay, c'mon! Of course she’s fine and she’s happy, I’m sure she’s enjoying herself and all the teachers are taking care of her.”

“I hope so or I'm going to burn that place down with my own hands,” he retorted and something told you he wasn't kidding at all.

But you weren't wrong.

When Jay picked Sofia up and saw her come out with her biggest smile as she ran towards him, he calmed down, setting aside the momentary idea of blowing up the building.

“Dada!” she yelled almost literally jumping into her father’s arms, who grabbed her and spun her in the air.

“My princess!” he exclaimed, delighted to finally be able to hug his daughter again. He showered her with kisses, tickling her as she giggled and laughed. “How are you? How was you day?”.

“Where is mommy?” she asked, looking around.

“She is waiting for us at home, she had things to do but she can't wait to see you, you know?” he hugged her tightly to him with lots of affection and love “Oh baby I missed you so much”.

“I missed you too much dada! You know we played with paint on our hands! Can we do it too with mama?” she looked at him with puppy eyes that weren't even needed that moment, Jay would’ve dug with his own hands and panned for gold if she'd asked.

“We'll do whatever you want baby, ask and I’ll give it to you,” he replied smiling and stroking her cheeks after caressing her hair “So, did you have fun? Have you made any friends?” he asked as they walked towards the parking lot, Sofia still in his arms as she talked about everything she did.

“Do you want to see a surprise?” he asked once they got close to the car and after setting her gently on the ground.

She nodded and let out a little squeal of delight as she jumped and clapped her little hands.

“Close your eyes then. And don't cheat, otherwise no surprise.”

She covered her eyes with her small hands. “No I don't cheat dada.”

Jay made sure she wasn't peeking and opened the passenger side door, taking the small bouquet of flowers from the seat before tucking it behind his back and kneeling in front of his daughter. He brought the flowers before arriving in kindergarten, wanting to somehow give his daughter a small prize and show her how proud he was of her.

“Okay you can open your eyes baby.”

He showed the bouquet to Sofia as she took her hands away from her eyes and the little cry of joy she let out and the look of pure happiness on her face made his heart melt. In that very moment he wished he had bought the whole flower shop, just so he could forever look at the joy the little girl was feeling.

“They are my favorites! Are they all for me?”.

“Obviously they’re all for you honey. Dada is so proud of you, you're becoming a young lady now.”

“Thank you daddy! I love you so much!” she hugged him, squeezing him as tight as she could with her little arms. She smelled the flowers, lilac tulips, her favorite color and flower. “I like them a lot dada”.

“I'm happy you liked them baby, I love you too so much,” he smiled as she tried to hold the flowers in her arms without dropping it. “What you say if we go back to mom now?”.

She nodded happily and after they got into the car and settled her into her seat, Jay started the car and drove home. He listened to all the stories and events happened today that Sofia told him, with attention and joy, realizing how much he loved hearing her talk. She was definitely talkative and Jay loved it so much, mostly because it was something little Halstead definitely got from you.

He took the opportunity to stop at a toy store to buy the paint and brushes his little girl wanted. And of course how could he say no when his daughter asked him to buy some toys and a dollhouse with that sweet little voice and puppy dog eyes?

He blamed you for this. She got from her mother this ability to make him give up so quickly and the way of using her puppy dog eyes to make him do whatever she wanted.

He blamed you because he didn't want to admit she had him wrapped around her little finger and she knew it, that little devil, she knew how to play on her father's feelings because he loved her more than himself.

So when they got home and Jay was carrying a huge bag of dolls and toys with a dollhouse in his arms, you weren't even surprised. Honestly, you wouldn't have expected otherwise.

As Sofia played with her new toys, you didn't waste time admonishing Jay about how much he was spoiling her. “It's not good spoiling her too much baby…”

“Luckily, you're here to play the dictator and restore order in this house,” he replied with an amused smile. “Asshole,” you tossed him the shirt you were folding, but not being able to hold back your laughter. He was too handsome and adorable to even pretend to be angry with him. “What are you hiding behind your back?” you asked as you noticed he had one arm hidden while with the other took the shirt you had just thrown at him and laid it on the bed.

He held out his other hand, revealing a beautiful bouquet of flowers, more precisely your favorite flowers, leaving you speechless.

“Jay...” you whispered in amazement as you took the bouquet from his hand and smell it. “Why the flowers? Did I forget some special event?”.

“Because you deserve it baby and honestly it's the least I can do,” he replied. He looked at you and the way your eyes sparkled and the way you were smiling made his heart melt, a flock of butterflies gripping his stomach just like the first day. “Because you gave me the best gift I could ever ask for, you gave me our little girl and our family and I’ll be eternally grateful to you. Because I’m in love with you in a way I’ve never thought I’d be with someone and because you make me the happiest I’ve ever been every single day. I’d honestly be nothing with you. So thank you baby, for everything.”

General tag list: @hngbrooks, @alexxavicry, @mrspeacem1nusone, @halstead-severide-fan, @allivzs

Jay Halstead tag list: @burgstead, @bebataylor84, @ares-kelani-wayne, @ixna-mikaelsn, @sande5098, @smoothdogsgirl, @withakindheartx, @jess2013, @maddu-oliveira, @lovemesomepietro, @onechicagodrawings, @jinxfan18, @ready-hit-it, @rainroo2, @tinfoilhat2719, @upsteadlovingheart, @secondaryjob, @nevaehstreater18, @sophiatellerrhodes, @dedlund82, @kellykidd, @rippi3s, @stephanie708, @annahargrove, @smutlOver, @kuroe-san, @caroldanverwife, @baby, @nosy09, @luvreading67, @danielmarie, @saiyuo12, @nachodaze, @waywardhunter95, @fighterkimburgess, @ephemeral314, @mads-weasley, @itskellysev, @lovemedlife, @atarmychick007, @amazedbyitall, @glodessa, @xeleni-dutchnurse, @ossypooh, @itriedtoexplain, @randomwriter1021, @averyhotchner, @ellavanderberg, @mrshalsteadxx, @junevoidzombie, @nocturnalherb16, @croissantthief, @jayhalsteadsbadge, @youngblood199456, @dreamss-wavess, @halsteadloversworld, @laaaauuraaaaa, @firerusher, @itserickalove, @23victoria, @slytherlight, @goingwiththewind, @notanordinaryprincess95, @mel0809, @cadyfanninger, @acewritesfics, @iloveest, @instantpizzacat, @wickedlovely121, @hart-kinsella

Click here to be added to the tag list ❤️

Main Masterlist

Jay Halstead Masterlist

Support me on Ko-Fi ☕️

Side blog -> @halsteadloverslibrary

[yukidragon]

Scam PSA

Be aware that if someone sends you an ask begging you for money, or to share their post with information about how to send them money, it is a scam.

There is no dying/dead relative. There is no sick pet. There is no poor soul who was kicked out of their parents' house with nowhere to go.

People who genuinely are in need of assistance seek out charities, GoFundMe, and the like, where there is oversight to the donation process. They are places that are very good at stamping out people who exploit their site to scam people out of money. This is why scammers usually avoid those places so they don't get caught.

Scams like this are preying on your kind nature and desire to help those in dire straits. They target trending tags and go after those who have reblogged posts about how to donate to those suffering actual tragedies, like the one in Palestine.

When you get one of these asks, don't respond to it. Do not engage.

The scammer will ask for a private response. This is to minimize the risk that people will realize that it's a copypasta. Chances are, if you do a search quoting parts of it, you'll find the same ask posted elsewhere. Often times you'll find these asks came from multiple different blogs that no longer exist because they got caught.

Here is a recent scam ask that I received. I am posting it in full so that people can know what to look out for.

Hey, hi! Im really sorry for sending this, i just hope im not overstepping any boundaries as I’m about to ask help which is very important right now :( our cat, Sleepy needs an urgent vet care. She is pain and I can't afford to pay the vet to help her so I'm reaching out to ask for help, I mean even if you can’t help monetarily, reblogging or sharing it would truly mean a lot. She is my daughter’s best friend and she’s all I have left of my mom who passed away last 2021. In case you’d be insterested to help, I have pinned the post on my blog, please try to also answer the ask privately as some people tend to get weird on this stuff. Please send us prayers, be safe. ♥️🙏

If you're still unsure, check the asker's blog. Even if they have an icon and some info listed to pass the initial bot test, there are other signs to look out for.

Was the blog recently created?

Was the pinned post made about the time the blog was created?

Is the pinned post full of popular tags unrelated to the requested donation?

Is there a focus on other donation posts in the reblogs?

Were the other reblogs also made around the time the blog was created?

Can you find the images/text in the pinned post elsewhere on unrelated pages?

Remember, this is a person digitally knocking door to door asking for money while giving everyone they come across a very sad story to pull at their heartstrings. If you would be wary of a stranger coming up to you on the street to ask you for money, be just as wary as someone sliding into your inbox.

Remember that there are plenty of people who prey on your kindness. They will lie, and many of them are very good at it. They don't feel bad about manipulating you and making you feel like you're the bad person for denying them. They don't care about you or others, they only care about themselves.

Stay safe out there.

[mirananananan]

intro & fic masterlist

hi & welcome to my blog which consists mostly of me screaming about the last of us, more specifically joel & ellie. i also enjoy a fair amount of other fandom content (ted lasso, succession, harry potter, marvel, some musicians, etc), so expect occasional reblogs outside of tlou.

my name is miranda (she/her), and i am back on tumblr and ao3 after an approx. 10 year hiatus, so it has been really fun finding joy in this again after so long! my asks are always open, as are my dms! i love meeting and talking to people on here!

speaking of, i write tlou fic and post on ao3 when i have the time and inspiration! i absolutely love found family dynamics, angst/fluff, and giving these beautiful characters who i love so much some softness and happiness.

masterlist:

ONE-SHOTS:

you were wrong (my healing needed more than time) - ellie and joel adjust to life in jackson. joel is having a harder time than he thought he would...and he somehow forgot how hard it is to be a parent (3.9k words)

what would it feel like to put this baggage down? - the progression of joel & ellie's relationship through conversations they have while he does her hair (7.4k words)

routine - there is a break in ellie's routine, and the entire day spirals from there. set in modern au in which 7-year-old ellie was adopted by good parents joel & tess, the beautiful verse set up by this fic (4.6k words)

twenty year dark night (now i see daylight) - joel remembers a series of core parenting memories with sarah as he navigates being a parent to a very different child under very different circumstances (11k words)

a place in a brand new world - joel tells ellie the truth after a few months in jackson. she struggles with forgiveness, complicated further by having a hard time coming to terms with what her place is in joel's life. ft. good uncle tommy, feelings of inadequacy for ellie, and joel waiting patiently to pick up the pieces (5.4k words)

we don't get too long (that's why i'm holding on) -  ellie's getting older, and so is joel. lots of things are different, but plenty is the same. ft. aged-up ellie and joel; everyone lives, no one dies jackson fluff (2.4k words)

i had the best day with you today - the pumpkin patch/fall vibes fic i dreamt up one day while listening to "the best day" (taylor's version) by taylor swift (5.1k words)

a home that leads me back to you - whumptober 2023 promt #3: "like crying out in an empty room, with no one there except the moon" | solitary confinement | "make it stop"

SERIES:

modern sisters au -

modern setting au in which joel is a single dad to his two teenage daughters, sarah and ellie.

daughters - in another universe, joel has both of his girls together, minus the apocalypse. aka, the modern au in which sarah & ellie are sisters (2.3k words)

on my side (even when i was wrong) - sarah and ellie attempt to pull off a scheme to keep joel from finding about ellie's school troubles. he finds out anyway (4.5k words)

the better version of our past - joel and tess agree to smuggle a six-year-old named ellie to the fireflies in exchange for gear they need to get west in joel’s search for tommy. when they discover she is immune and what the fireflies plan to do with her, there is a change of plans.

takes place about 8 years before canon. tess lives, family is found, ellie gets a post-apocalyptic childhood.

the past coming back (pt. 1) - main story. an alternate universe/timeline where joel & tess meet ellie eight years earlier under similar circumstances (30.7k words)

the future looks good (pt. 2) - a little extra of ellie’s pov at bill & frank’s (set in chapters 3-4 of part 1 of series). ft. ellie's process of starting to trust joel & tess even though she's never really known trustworthy adults (2.2k words)

just tryin' to find my way to you (pt. 3) - ellie gets sick while settling in jackson. joel worries too much. ft. the healing powers of candy land (7.1k words)

today is another day to find you (pt. 4) - joel makes a guitar once they're settled into jackson. ellie is absolutely smitten, but tess is even more smitten with her family and the moments they enjoy together (2.7k words)

time cutting me open (then healing me fine) (pt. 5) - tommy convinces joel & tess to take a "vacation" so that he can activate good uncle tommy mode. it goes about as well as could be expected. ft. ellie's separation anxiety, tommy doing his best, and lots of fluffy comfort for all (6k words)

i found you under an april sky (pt. 6) - during her early months in jackson, ellie learns what it means to be loved, have a family, and a place to call home (6.4k words)

a flower bud in concrete (pt. 7) - the miller family grows within the safe walls of jackson. tess & joel decide to have a baby now that they are in an environment that is normal enough, and ellie has mixed feelings about being a big sister (14.3k words)

just stand still (pt. 8) - ellie is 14 now and experiencing some major growing pains. ft. aged-up tpcb ellie, heavy angst, and canonical violence/traumatic events, but also the incredible miller family there to help make it all better (25.3k words)

[ask-de-writer]

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to CLASSICAL FANTASIES

THE FISHERMAN'S LEG (Part 20 of 20)

A sequel to Dee 1/2 Demon

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

25570 words

© 2023 by Glen Ten-Eyck

All rights reserved. This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

TUMBLR EXEMPTION

Blog holding members of Tumblr.com may freely reblog this story provided that the title, author and copyright information remain intact, unaltered, and are displayed at the head of the story.

Fan art, stories, music, cosplay and other fan activity is actively encouraged.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

New to the story? Read from the beginning HERE.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

The others all laughed but just a little thoughtfully. As they were leaving the Tribunal, Takahara shook her head and noted, “I am less good than I thought. I find myself hoping that Minami will try to escape and thereby lose his head.”

High Priest Nandi san nodded a bit sadly, “Beings such as Minami often bring such thoughts to disturb the tranquility of the mind and heart. It is not a discredit to you that you feel so. It is a natural response to such as he. In his own way, he is worse than most Oni.”

Tanira looked up at the angle of the sun as she and her new daughters strolled towards the waterfront and asked Patsu, “Have we still time to launch the Rising Dawn today? It seems to be fine weather for it.”

Patsu looked about, smiling at kites being flown from one of two small hills just out of the village. She agreed, “It is a fine day and yes, we have plenty of time.

“Mikore told me that they are offering fried dumplings with minced crab filling over at our market. Let's grab some of those or other goodies, some rice and tea. We have plenty of time for a nice, if late, noon meal before we launch her.”

The crab dumplings were actually quite good. They were all happily agreed that the best item was a new offering. Sand shark fillet steamed first and then tempura dipped and fried to a light golden tan. Tea, rice, and some stir fried vegetables finished the meal nicely.

The newly finished Rising Dawn was pulled out of the Chiasu Estate boat house where it had been moved after the hull was done to finish setting up her rigging and sail. Using a pulling block and the same cart that was used to put away their smaller rental rowing boats, she was eased down the boat ramp to the water by the dock.

Several of the men owning some of the other fishing boats came to watch, faces clouded, brows drawn down in anger. “Tanira san, why are you setting up a boat for serious fishing? Do you really think that you can cut us out or lower the prices that you pay us?”

Tanira shook her head at their rudeness. “No, Satura san, we are not in any way trying to cut you out of anything. If you had only waited to see how the Rising Sun is rigged, you would know that. My boat is set up for trolling and the like line fishing.

“What we seek are cod, snappers, and such things. For you they are an occasional lucky by catch. If you have them, you will continue to get the same good prices as you have been.”

“One of my men told me that Minami . . .”

Patsu interrupted, “The child murdering thief who was just this day divorced from the honorable Tanira san? You expect him to say anything that would not cause her further harm?

“Even after it was proved in the Tribunal that all of his lies about Dee san being some sort of Sorcerous monster were totally false, he still tried to blame her for all of his problems! He ordered us to not finish healing his leg but still blames us for it not being neatly healed.

“He is madder than a sand flea!”

Abashed, Satura san cringed back a little and looked down, scraping his sandal on the wood of the dock. “That is true. We followed his lead and respected him for many years. I apologize for our unjust behavior.”

Tanira straightened up, bowing acceptance, she asked, “So will we be seeing you tomorrow at the public dock to buy your fish?”

“We will be there, Tanira san. I heard that you adopted Minara san and Takahara san. That is well done. We have seen how well you all work together and get along.

“May we watch the sea trials of your Rising Dawn?”

Dee chuckled as she strapped herself into floats, “Of course you may!” She pointed to the floats and added, “Yes, I can swim, though I don't really like to. My Aspect of Fire doesn't really get along with water!”

That drew a general laugh.

With all made ready, they cast off from the dock, stern line first and then the bow. A solid push from a boat hook gave them the room to unship the oars and begin rowing the Rising Dawn out a ways from the dock.

They let the boat coast while they raised the sail. It rose up along the fairly short mast, spreading out into a triangular fan shape, reaching from nearly the bow back just short of the stern and lifting well above the top of the mast. About a third of the sail was in front of the mast.

The Rising Dawn began to drift sideways. Wisely, one of the watchers commented, “Wind's wrong for this. It's going to just push them back to shore.”

Another of the watchers, shading his eyes with his hand, replied, “Don't think so. See, they are picking up speed going across the wind.”

Satura san added, “They are turning into the wind! Look! They are tacking around forty or forty five degrees into the wind. Now they are turning again! Still steep into the wind but coming back . . . And again, going back like they were before. Zigzaging right into the wind! I will have to talk to them about that rig! I might want to do one like it for my Sea Gull!”

They all watched as the Rising Dawn went sidways to the wind but slowly now. “They've put out a boom of some sort. I expect that is for their trolling.” Only a little time passed before, “Whoops! They either got a snag or they hooked something fair sized! Look at that boom bend!”

Aboard the Rising Dawn, Tanira and the girls were excitedly watching the trolling boom / crane bend nearly to the water. Patsu was manning the boom's line winch. She was counseling the others, “Get the big framed net to finish catching it! Takahara san, be ready to club it on the head when it is safely in the net! Be ready with a boat hook to the gills to finish pulling it in!

“Look! We can see it now! That snapper must be nearly a pace and a half long!”

The next few minutes were an organized chaos as they netted the fish in the framed net and pulled it up snug to the side of the boat! Takahara wielded the stout club to it's head to kill it! Dee slid the boat hook into it's gills and lifted the big snapper into the boat. It only took a moment to get the hook free and put the near monster into the catch box.

The triumphant girls made all sail for the public docks of Sabo, close to the Fish Market! Along the way, they caught three sand sharks as well! It was not long before they dropped the sail and finished their approach by oars.

The young women watching the Fish Market for Tanira saw them coming and sprinted down to the dock, pulling the cart with the box for fish on it!

The fishermen converged on them too! All wanted to know, “What did you catch!?”

As they were opening the Rising Dawn's catch box, Patsu smirked, “Just three moderate size sand sharks! And the biggest snapper that Sabo's ever seen!”

As they were loading the cart, one of the girls that had been watching the Fish Market was weeping quietly.

Miko asked gently, “Ontara san, what has you upset? You did a wonderful job keeping the Fish Market open and this trial of the Rising Dawn has gone very well.”

Ontara sniffled, “I wish that Ichuru was here to see it. I gave him the toy boat that got him drowned.”

Miko gave her a hug and replied, “No, Ontara san, it was not the toy boat that got him drowned. It was Minami, whose mind was twisted to evil by his leg.”

“His leg? What was wrong with his leg?”

Miko shook her head in bemusement as she explained, “He thought that he was transported to the Hospice by magic because he did not understand that he gave himself a deadly case of Gangrene. That started his fears. Then he thought that he saw us do something evil and forbade us to finish healing it. That caused a great scar that his working pants always hid. Only he was bothered by it but it drove him mad that he was scarred. That and his fear drove him to attacking us with lies, slanders, and even trying to ruin things of ours. It was that same madness that made him kidnap Ichuru and take him out in a stolen fishing boat.

“He demanded that a ten year old boy prove that he was a man by taking off the floats that would have saved him when he did fall in. His father and the others did not even notice when he went overboard.

“It was Minami, who drove himself to madness because of his leg, that killed Ichuru. His father gave him only anger and hate. You gave him a wonderful toy that he loved.

The END

<==PREVIOUS

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to CLASSICAL FANTASIES

[landboundstar-writing]

Trade Secrets Part 5

From my main blog and AO3

Please tip if you can, please reblog if you can't. Every little bit helps.

I sat down on the foot of the bed, looking as she let the dress fall from her hands onto the bedspread.

"Thank you for indulging me, Gio." Martha smoothed the skirt of the dress I had bought for Zatanna out. "I always see the adorable clothes in the girl's section. Unfortunately, I don't have a reason to shop there. It's one of the few downsides of only having a boy. Seeing the clothes Alfred and you buy for Rachel and Zatanna lets me enjoy that vicariously."

Martha smiled, patting me on the arm. "I know you miss your Sindella, and I wish I could have met her. But, I've been seeing Zatanna grow up, and you are raising a wonderful daughter."

"Yes, well nothing has caught on fire or been turned into a bunny in the last three weeks." I told her, not even trying to hide the tears in my eyes. 

She was right. I missed Sindella, and I did wonder what she would think of how I was raising our daughter. But, I loved our daughter and honestly enjoyed seeing her delight in the colorful dresses and tops as much as I enjoyed Martha's request to see the outfits as well.

I stood up, and walked over to the window. Zatanna was playing in the garden with Rachel and Selina and the three girls appeared to be drawing a complicated game of hopscotch on the path. Things seemed to have been normal between Zatanna with both Bruce and Harvey, which I had been worried about after the cat incident. But, I was also not surprised that Zatanna had chosen hopscotch over the movie that the boys had chosen to watch.

"I have to admit, this plaid dress is my favorite."

Martha unfolded the next dress that I had bought, admiring the blue and green tartan.

"Yes, it is quite fetching." Alfred mentioned from the doorway. "Although, I have to admit that I think that dress will look cuter on Zatanna than it did the last time I saw that particular pattern."

I coughed, not successfully smothering a laugh. Martha shook her head with her own chuckle, so I knew that Martha had heard the story about the Scot in Alfred's MI6 unit who had indeed worn a kilt in the same pattern as I had picked out. While the kilted soldier had been quite a striking figure, I had to find it equally unlikely that Zatanna would not be far cuter in her plaid dress than the grizzled veteran.

"Well, I am sure your colleague had other skills." Martha told Alfred.

"Oh, that he did. Since you are going out with Thomas later, would you like me to have the children come have supper before you get ready to leave?"

"That probably would be a good idea. Honestly, I think I want to have supper before I leave rather than survive on champagne and canapes for the evening."

"A family dinner sounds excellent then." 

"Join us, Gio."

I smiled, "Of course."

Walking back over to the window, I looked out and saw Selina pick a flower and give it to Zatanna.

Zatanna tucked it behind her ear, and kissed Selina on the cheek. 

I had not realized Martha had joined me at the window, until I heard her say, "Awww. The girls are being sweet."

"They are."

Heading downstairs with me, Martha turned. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. Harvey is definitely a fan. He still has that trick coin you pulled out from behind his dad's ear."

I laughed, a little startled. "The one Selina took from him?"

"That's the one. He treats it like a good luck charm."

I knew just how quickly luck could turn, but decided to keep that opinion to myself. 

"Alfred just told me about an early dinner." Thomas kissed his wife on the cheek. "That sounds fantastic. The girls are getting cleaned up, and Alfred is getting both boys."

I looked towards the living room, where the boys sat as the screen went blank, making a Bela Lugosi Dracula parody disappear. As soon as the image was gone, Bruce's fingers uncurled from Harvey's grip.

I pulled Thomas aside.

"Is that going to be a problem?"

Thomas did not even pretend to misunderstand me. "Not for me. It was a surprise, but never a problem.I've seen weirder things than my son wanting to hold hands with both boys and girls. Funny how having a friend who can cast magic puts that into perspective. And whoever he likes, I like the boy my son is growing into."

"What about for Harvey?"

"Mr. Dent has very definite opinions about what type of a man he wants his son to grow into. And I am worried without a way out, it is going to break something in Harvey. He's a good kid, but he'll never be what his father wants."

I put my hand on Thomas' shoulder. "Isn't it good he has a good friend then? How did you raise such a good kid anyhow?"

Thomas smiled. "I'm going to borrow one of your lines, Gio. Trade secret."

[lethalchiralium]

A Little More | Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

a/n: hiiiii! uh so this is connected to tonight, tonight, tonight and dear winter, and this was sort of inspired by never grow up by taylor swift. 🤍 also, the constant support really makes me want to just write domestic simon. like, a lot. it’s great.

warnings: mentions of nationality (americans do suck but you’re great!), babies, children… arguing

summary: It’s Simon’s first late night and morning with his new daughter, Mellie. And you and him have an important conversation.

REMINDER: This is a side-blog, not my main! If you have any questions, feel free to message this blog or reblog! Reblogs are always appreciated - as well as any comments, they keep me motivated to write stuff like this!

PREVIOUS << | >> NEXT

When the baby monitor began to sound with cries of his new daughter, Simon had woken up. He rubbed his eye with one of his hands while the other reached for the monitor on his nightstand. He had moved it from yours last night after you had fallen asleep.

He turned it down so you could barely even hear it and settled the monitor back on his nightstand - he silently sat up. He blinked away what little sleep he got and pulled off the warm comforter, standing up. He turned back and looked at you, a pang of guilt ran through his chest before he pulled the comforter back into place. You had fallen asleep on his chest, and now you were curled into a ball in the middle of the mattress, facing his side. He wanted to lean down and kiss your cheek, but his baby was crying.

He made his way out of the bedroom and down the hall, passing his office and Winnie’s room to the room closest to the staircase. He could clearly hear Mellie crying now, so he quietly opened the door. He walked over to the white crib and gazed at her. Her little eyes were screwed shut and her cries broke his cold heart before he gently picked up his new daughter, placing her against his bare chest. One hand held her head and the other held her back, he was still amazed at how big he was compared to this little creature.

“Hello, my little love.” He whispered as he leaned down and kissed her little head, smelling the soap you had washed her with earlier. He checked the little one’s nappy, seeing that she didn’t need changed. He moved across the room to the comfy rocking chair you had gotten and settled on it, Mellie’s cries had gotten softer as he began to gently rock. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for ya to know me before you were born. Sorry I wasn’t here when you were born, someone’s gotta pay the bills.” He chuckled lightly, still gazing down at the baby with short hair that looks just like yours. If he gazed at her face a little more, he would’ve noticed that his daughter had his eyes, his ears. He would learn days later that she had his smile.

His thumb drew circles on the crown of the baby’s head and her cries mellowed out to little mewls, her cheek rested on his collarbone.

“You’re going to grow up strong like me ‘n amazing like your mum,” He promised her, kissing her head again. “You’re going to love your sister, even though sometimes you’ll fight with her. Hell, I know you’ll fight with me one day.”

The baby cooed in response, as if she was listening.

“Always love your mum,” He whispered, head then leaning back to stare at the door. “You don’t have to love me, Melody. But it’ll be a cold day in Hell if I ever stop loving you. And you have to love your sister, I know that she probably loves you more than she does me now.” He chuckled a little, gently patting Mellie’s back before continuing. “You’re going to be as smart ‘n as beautiful as your mum, as careful as me. And you’ll love all your uncles, Price the most since Winnie does.“ He closed his eyes then, using his right leg to gently rock the chair. “You’ll be loved, no matter what. And I can’t wait to watch you grow, my little love.”

Mellie’s cries had finally stopped, all of her little sounds had as well - he could feel her tiny breath against his skin while he kept rocking the chair, feeling slumber tug at his head.

“You’ll be my little girl forever, no matter if we drift apart. I will always protect you, never let anyone hurt you. All I want is for you to never grow up.” His hands stopped moving, still keeping his child against him while he murmured, “I want you to stay little forever, I can’t stand watching my Winnie grow. You’ll always be my baby, Mellie. And I love you.” Simon leaned down and kissed her head again, he reclined back on the chair. He gazed at the ceiling, seeing her little mobile with stars and ducks on it.

He patted Mellie’s back with a soft accuracy, closing his eyes and reveling in the feeling of his daughter on his chest.

•••

He woke up in the late morning, feeling a much heavier weight on his chest. He opened his eyes, looking down and seeing Winnie curled into his chest, Mellie snuggled into his neck with his arm underneath her bottom. He looked up, seeing his wife folding clothes on the floor. He pushed on his right foot, gently rocking and catching your attention. You looked up at your husband as you finished folding his shirt, a smile on your face. His other arm went around Winnie’s back, she snuggled into his chest even more. You stood up from where you were, opening your phone and showing him a picture you had taken two hours before - Winnie looking up at him with a smile, then one of her curled into his chest like she was now. His hand absentmindedly pet his oldest daughter’s hair that matched his, a grin on his face. He looked back to you, whispering, “You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you.” You whispered back, sliding your phone in your sweatpants pocket. You leaned forward and kissed him, then kissed his cheek. “Go back to sleep.”

“She’ll probably need to be fed.” He nodded down to the baby.

“Just did. She just fell back asleep.” You mumbled, your hand gently rubbed Winnie’s arm. “Winnie’s had breakfast too. You need to rest.”

“So do you.” He answered, eyes meeting yours but you shrugged.

“This is the longest either have slept in a while, so I’m going to get some things done.” You turned back to the laundry, stepping over the four folded stacks and sitting back down next to the basket. “Then, I will go take a nap, okay?”

He nodded, eyes fluttered closed again as he leaned back, still gently rocking the chair with his foot. He sat there for another twenty minutes, listening to you fold clothes and hum a familiar song.

“Thank you.” He spoke into the room, hearing the baby’s soft breathing near his ear and as Winnie moved a little.

You stopped folding clothes, that he knew for sure because there was no more humming. “For what?”

“For this.” He answered, opening his eyes and jutting his chin to Mellie then Winnie. “Couldn’t’ve asked for someone better.”

You smiled at him, setting your hands on a stack of his shirts before swiping at your eye. You patted his stack of clothes, you still had a bit left to go but you didn’t care - you got to your feet and walked over to him. Your hands were gentle when you picked up Winnie, letting her curl her arms around your neck as he stared at you. You jutted your head towards the door of the nursery. “Come on, nap time.”

He instantly slowly rose from the rocking chair, hearing it rock back and forth behind him as he kept the two month old against his collarbone. She didn’t make a sound. He followed you as you effortlessly carried Winnie, who was out like a light, down to your shared bedroom. It made the heaviness of his long and strenuous deployment begin to thaw from his stomach and shoulders - he followed you as you pulled back the duvet with one hand, settling the four year old in the middle of the bed before climbing in. He moved to the other side, lowering himself back into his bed.

He checked the baby again, still seeing that she was asleep. You moved to your side, looking at him as Winnie snuggled into your chest. He settled Mellie onto her back right next to his own chest as he tugged the duvet to just below Winnie’s head, your waist, and Mellie’s onesied feet. His head settled on his pillow as yours did, his hand came up and brushed some hair around your ear. The two of you sort of made a cocoon, legs tangled together and facing each other as your hand rubbed the belly of the small baby - your bodies shielding your children from the outside world.

“I’m sorry.” Simon spoke softly, his hand was removed from your head and settled on the duvet. Your eyes met his, only a few faded streaks of eye paint on his lash lines remained.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” You murmured, your hand then moved from Mellie to Winnie, gently petting her head.

“I left you here alone.” You had to endure this alone. Had to give birth alone, without support of your husband - had to raise both of his children alone, with no outside help for thousands of miles. His eyes stared at yours, even if you gazed down at your daughters. “I chose to take that deployment.”

“And you said it would only be three months.” You whispered.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, wanting nothing more to pull you to his chest and press his words into your skin like tattoos - words of praise, of trust, love.

There was a moment of silence before Simon spoke again.

“I want to slow down.” His voice sort of trembled, his hand coming to rest on Winnie’s head too - settling on top of yours. “I can’t let you think that I don’t support you.”

“Simon…”

He continued. “I want to only do one deployment a year, so that way you will never have to do this-“ He nodded to the children between their chests. “Without my support and without me.”

“You can’t just give up your life for us.” Your thumb drew small circles in Winnie’s hair. “I can’t let our family be what takes you away from what you want to do with your life.”

“I never wanted to be in the military after Winnie was born. Almost quit then.” He spoke then, not whispering anymore. “Almost did it again when we got married.” His eyes moved to look at your diamond ring, how it still glimmered in the dim sunlight that hazed through the room. “I could die the day I get deployed next. I will do whatever it takes to make sure I come home.”

“Simon, is this what you wanted to do for the rest of your life? Be a soldier?”

Simon only stared.

You sighed. “One less deployment would be nice, and with the long ones like this, you’ll need to give me warning so I don’t stay up every night waiting for you.” You took a deep breath, meeting his eyes. “Your friends are counting on you, I think we both know that your job is not done yet.”

Sometimes he was amazed at how intuitive you were - you knew exactly how he felt within a moment. He sort of grunted before running a hand down his maskless face. “You’re my wife, you come first.”

“Your family comes first, and that includes 141. I won’t have it any other way.” You concluded, voice sharp and definitive. Your hand went to rest on his cheek and he let you, let your thumb trace lines under his eye. “You can’t give up on what you believe in for me.”

“But you have given up a lot for me.” He whispered, his hand settled on yours. “You should’ve gone back home, had the support you needed - but you stayed in a place where you have no friends or family. You raised my children alone, you gave up your life back home to raise my child. This- My solitude is no place for…us.”

“I didn’t give anything up that easily, Simon.” Your tone was defensive, he immediately knew he crossed a line. “I never go into anything blindly. I always assess the situation and the best outcomes.” You gave him a sharp glare as you narrowed your eyes. “There’s a reason why there is another child in our bed.” Your thumb stopped moving and settled under his eye. “I wouldn’t have gone through with having her if I didn’t think I could’ve done it alone. There was no shortage of support from my family across the pond.”

“Quit sayin’ slang, you’re American.”

You smiled at that comment. “Simon, I knew you were coming home. I know that you’ll always come home to me. I mean it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Quit it. No more apologies, you didn’t know.” Your voice became small then, eyes unfocusing as you let the walls fall down. Tears pricked at your eyes. “Do I wish I could change that? Absolutely. But someone needed your help, you save thousands of people every day and I can’t let myself keep you from your duty.”

“You wouldn’t be. It’s my choice.”

“I know.”

“I can’t keep leaving this house, not knowing if I’m coming back.”

Mellie cooed then, both of you looked down and your hands separated. His hand went to gently rub her stomach, trying to coax her back to sleep.

“You’re a wonderful father.”

His hand slowed to a stop, trying to accept what you said because he sure as hell didn’t feel like it.

“You’ll always be here for them, I know that for a fact.” You continued. “Whatever you choose, that will never change. You will always love them. And I will stand by whatever decision you make.”

He just gazed at you then. His heart felt warm, he wanted to move forward and kiss you but his children were in the way - so he settled for placing his hand on the back of your jaw, splaying his fingers through your hair and above and below your ear. He cradled your face a little. “I’ll call Price tomorrow.”

You nodded, leaning into his hand and moving to kiss his palm. “Good.”

“And I want you to find a house that’s near your parents.”

You froze then, eyes wide as you whispered, “What?”

He shrugged. “In case a Mellie happens again, which I will make sure it won’t, I want you to be close to your family. I have no family to keep me here that’s not you.”

“You don’t have to uproot out life from here, Si. I’m fine here.” You muttered. “I promise.”

“Let me give something up for you, since you won’t let me give up my job.”

Your hand rested on Winnie’s head again, she was still out like a light. “Simon, I mean it. You don’t have to give anything up-“

“Stop telling me what I can or can’t give up.” His tone was a little harsh. “Just let me have the peace of knowing that you’ll be with your family if I get killed.”

You fell silent, knowing that this really came from a deep place in his heart because his eyes were screwed shut for just a moment. You gave the idea a little thought, maybe it wouldn’t be bad to stop wasting money on plane tickets and stay back home. Your little brothers love Winnie, they’ll meet and love Mellie - your parents adore them too. You had to admit, it was one of the ways he showed his love - by keeping you hidden away, yet in a safe reach.

“Let me think on it.” You answered, eyes fluttering closed as his hand slipped away.

“Sleep on it, love.” He whispered.

“I love you, Simon.”

He smiled.

“I love you too.”

———

Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

[ggggggfft]

Have you ever helped detransition someone before, if not outright forced their detransition?

That depends on your definition of “forced.” I would say I have coerced girls into detransitioning, but the ones I’ve toyed with have always wanted to be stripped of their faux masculinity in the most humiliating ways. I give them plenty of opportunities to walk away. To say no and try to abandon this particular kink. But they always - Always come crawling back telling me how drippy are for transphobic porn. How they need Daddy to fuck their little girly pussy and turn them straight. They can’t help it. Craving dominate male seed and obeying their biological urge to reproduce is literally hardwired into their smaller brains. They will always be female first and fakeboys second.

My first experience with detransing was with my ftm girlfriend of several years. He was a she when we first met and started dating and when he finally worked up the courage to transition he only did so socially. I continued fucking his soft, womanly body and playing with his massive tits like nothing had changed, because aside from a few key words and a new name, there was nothing different about her. We were still having straight sex with my cock buried deep inside her slutty testosterone free pussy. She still loved to have her nipples teased and played with and it made her so wet. She was still fertile and could get pregnant at any time. She wasn’t on birth control.

After about two years of being out and still no HRT we began to play with her gender in the bedroom. She liked when I told her to take it like a girl. That I was raping her like a girl. That she would be a good girl for Daddy’s cock and let me use her pussy. In her mind, it was all pretend, playing into her fantasies of being a femboy. For me it was the perfect way to subconsciously train her to enjoy her body as it was. For her to come to terms with her birth sex and accept her womanhood. To go back to being my girlfriend. We broke up and to this day she is still going by he/him pronouns, but she has had no surgeries and while she did recently start hormone therapy she is taking the lowest dose possible. She has a very cute little mustache and gets misgendered every day by strangers, coworkers, and even supportive family members who are fully aware she is trans and has been for years.

We fuck now and then and when we do she asks me to fuck her cunt instead of her ass and get her pregnant. She calls her clitoris her babydick or even her boyclit and the last time we fucked I was testing the waters and called it her clitoris and she said nothing in her defense. Every time I pull her pants off she’s wearing panties and she will “cross dress” if I tell her too. I’ve never come out and told her about my fetish but I feel like part of her must know or at least suspect the truth, and yet she still can’t keep her legs closed around me. She’s my long term project and I hope as her biological clock starts counting down she finally cracks and gives in to what she obviously needs.

What really kicked off my hunt for fakeboys was a girl here on tumblr. I liked her blog description, she was 18, and she had reblogged so many posts begging for transphobic asks and rape threats. I sent her what I now think was a pretty mid dm describing how I’d fix her if she was my daughter and I found her blog. She responded by sending me pics of her shaved teen pussy and begging for more filth. I was hooked after that. She’s now fully addicted to misogyny and incest porn. She’s my good little zoomer slut who I can always hit up for pussy inspections or to make her drink her own piss. She fully accepts that she is a woman in mind, body, and soul, but we agree she should continue hormone treatment because it makes her even more horny and depraved.

She has gone out in a wig and breast forms and dresses in public for me and will sit in cafes with her legs spread and her big red cherry and drooling slick cunt on display for the world to see. She’s terrified of being clocked and actually hate crimed every time, but she just makes such a convincing cis girl that nobody ever notices. As soon as she gets home she gets on cam with me and rubs her clitoris while thanking me for showing her what a dumb tranny she is. I have her crouch in front of the camera and finger herself until she squirts onto her gym clothes for tomorrow. I have her chant that she is not a man. She will never be a man. She is her cunt and cunts are slaves to cock. I have her endlessly repeat that she wants to be a girl because girls are stupid and inferior and get to be dumb, brainless cumrags eating ass and getting fisted all day long while she jackhammers a dildo into her sweaty cunt.

She started out wanting to be misgendered and feminized, but I’m proud to say I broke her. If it doesn’t involve detrans and misogyny, she can’t get off any more. We’ve discussed it and if we were to move in together, with her coming to a new city in a new state where nobody knows her she would definitely detrans for real.

Right now I’m working on a girl who hasn’t come to terms with the reality of her desires. She is also a filthy sex slave but she insists on using those annoying he/they pronouns. She’s entertained the idea of becoming my good girl all the way, but is still reluctant. I get so turned on watching her try to resist her desires but knowing it’s futile in the end. if I want her to be a girl, she will be a girl. End of story.

Last night I had a great session with another ftm who started out being unsure and using he/him, but by 4 in the morning I had her telling me how she wanted my big fat cock to fuck a baby into her in front of her family. How she wants her dad to see his grandson being made. She fell completely in love with her vagina and the pleasure it can bring real men by the end of the night.

I’m waiting to sniff out the perfect gold-star tomboy faildyke to forcibly detrans. I want her to be defiant and tough and mean as hell so that when she’s a fucked out set of holes who only lives to worship men and get pregnant and give birth and has an IQ of 50 and giant plastic tits that victory will feel all the more glorious.

There are others but this post is already so long. If you’d like to make it longer, you can always dm me or send anons if you’re nervous. I love knowing there’s a shy girl behind the screen somewhere frantically rubbing her clit to these asks.

[kckt88]

Scorched Hearts XV

Summary:

'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'

In the aftermath of Valaena's recovery, Aemond struggles to deal with his guilt.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Guilt, Reluctance, Mental Anguish, Aegon Being A Menace, Arguing, Confessions, Smut, Referenced Sex.

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: 5000

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole

Aemond stood in the shadowed corner of his chambers, his gaze fixed on Valaena as she lay resting on the bed.

Rhaenyra sat beside her daughter, their hands clasped together, murmuring soft words that Aemond couldn’t quite make out.

On the opposite side, Daemon hovered, his usual air of detachment softening as he studied his stepdaughter, his relief barely hidden in his guarded expression.

But Aemond’s patience was fraying. He wanted them gone, all of them.

Valaena was his wife, the mother of his children, the woman he had almost lost.

He understood that her family would come rushing to her side upon learning she’d woken from the coma, but he resented their presence all the same.

They crowded around her, taking up the space and attention he desperately wanted for himself.

Each moment they spent at her bedside only deepened the ache in his chest, the ache to be close to her, to breathe in her scent and feel her warmth against him as if to reassure himself that she was really here.

He needed her. He needed to hold her without an audience, without Rhaenyra and Daemon hovering protectively, and without her bastard brothers who had previously descended upon her like dogs.

Every inch of him was screaming for them to leave so that he could wrap her in his arms and feel her breathing, feel her fingers running through his hair like she used to.

He needed to know she was real, that she had returned to him, whole and alive.

Aemond’s hands twitched restlessly at his sides, his jaw clenched tight. He told himself to wait a few moments longer, to let them have their time with her.

He tried to be respectful, patient—but he felt like he was about to shatter from the weight of restraint.

Finally, he cleared his throat, unable to keep silent any longer.

His voice was calm but firm as he spoke. “Rhaenyra,” he said, his tone steady but leaving little room for argument. “I-I know you’ve missed her. We all have. But-she needs her rest.”

Rhaenyra clutched her daughter’s tightly, as though afraid to let go even now.

Her eyes were damp, her fingers gently brushing over Valaena’s pale cheek, as if grounding herself in the reality that her daughter was here—alive, and awake.

She hesitated, her grip tightening, reluctant to let even a moment slip by without Valaena in her grasp.

But Daemon, standing nearby, sensed the moment’s weight and Aemond’s silent plea from across the room.

He understood the intensity of that need, the desperation to hold the one he’d nearly lost.

For the briefest of seconds, Daemon imagined what it would be like, never seeing Rhaenyra again, hearing her voice or feeling her presence close to him and the mere thought nearly destroyed him.

Softly, he placed a steadying hand on Rhaenyra’s shoulder, pulling her gently from the edge of the bed.

"Let him be with her now," Daemon said quietly, his voice a rare blend of gentleness and understanding.

Rhaenyra’s gaze darted to Daemon, reluctant but recognizing the truth in his words.

She glanced back at Aemond, taking in the quiet, raw longing in his gaze, the way he hovered on the brink of breaking.

She knew he’d kept a vigil by Valaena’s bedside, that he had barely left her side in weeks, clinging to the slimmest hope that Valaena would come back to him.

Daemon met Aemond’s eye, offering him a solemn nod—a gesture of solidarity, of understanding, even of respect for the torment Aemond had endured.

Aemond returned the nod, a slight but grateful tilt of his head, wordlessly conveying his thanks.

Rhaenyra pressed one last kiss to Valaena’s forehead, her hand lingering on her daughter’s for just a heartbeat longer before she pulled away, her own shoulders tense with the weight of emotion.

Then, with Daemon’s arm around her, she allowed him to guide her out.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind Rhaenyra and Daemon, Valaena turned her head to look at Aemond, her violet eyes warm and understanding.

She could see the strain in his face, the exhaustion, the fear that still lingered in his gaze despite her being here with him now.

Gently, she patted the bed beside her and whispered, “Come here my love. Let me hold you.”

Aemond barely needed a moment’s invitation. He quickly pulled off his tunic, breeches and eyepatch, his fingers trembling, as if afraid that even the smallest delay would shatter this fragile moment.

He slowly climbed into the bed, his naked body curling against her, his head resting just over her heart, where he could feel the steady, rhythmic beat.

Valaena’s hand slid up to his hair, and pulled the leather tie from it, allowing the long silver strands to cascade over his shoulders like a wave, and she then began to stroke his hair softly

Aemond let out a shaky breath, his eye closing as he absorbed the warmth and familiarity of her touch.

His hands clutched at the fabric of her shift, his fingers twisting the material.

A tear slipped down his cheek, and he made no effort to hide it. He clung to her, his face pressing against her, drawing in her scent, grounding himself in the reality of her presence.

"Would you like me to take this off?" she asked softly, her hand pausing in his hair.

Aemond nodded slowly, and she carefully untied the laces of her shift and shimmied the cotton material off her shoulders and let it pool at her waist, exposing her breasts to him.

He moved back to her instantly, his face nestled between her breasts, feeling the warmth of her soft bare skin against his face.

Valaena resumed stroking his hair, her fingers weaving through the silken strands, a gentle rhythm meant to soothe him.

“I’m here, my love, I’m here-” she murmured, her voice a comforting whisper above him.

Aemond let out a sigh, his shoulders finally relaxing as he allowed himself to sink fully into her embrace.

She was here. And he would never let her go again.

In the weeks that followed Valaena’s awakening, Aemond clung to her like a lifeline, a shadow that moved with her every step, bound by an unspoken fear that if he looked away, even for a moment, she would vanish.

He rarely left her side, his touch possessive and watchful, as though her recovery were as fragile as the first moments after a terrible storm.

No one else was permitted near her except for their children, Lirri and Arro.

Maester Gerardys’ visits, however, that were met with Aemond’s unrelenting wrath.

The mere sight of the Maester—who had once spoken of helping Valaena to ‘pass peacefully’—brought venom to his words.

Each visit was a storm of thinly veiled resentment, his voice low and scathing as he responded to the maester’s every inquiry with cold, biting replies.

The memory of Gerardys’ suggestion haunted him, his fury a fierce shield against his own guilt, which gnawed at him silently.

He couldn’t forgive himself for almost acting on his own moment of despair, haunted by that terrible night when he had held a pillow over her, only to recoil in horror.

It was his guilt, festering and raw like rot, that spurred his bitterness toward Gerardys.

He resented the Maester not only for what he had suggested but also because the Maester’s presence made Aemond confront his own weakness and desperation.

Rhaenyra, too, became a target of his unpredictable anger. Her involvement in the sweet sleep discussions felt like a betrayal, a whispered plot against Valaena's life.

He would look at her now with a glint of accusation, quick to lash out with a bitterness that he knew, deep down, was misdirected.

But that realization did little to stem his fury. He became volatile, his emotions frayed, a mix of relief, anger, and fear that twisted within him, barely contained.

Night after night, he lay awake, watching Valaena as she slept, his gaze fixed on the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

Each breath she took was a reminder that she was here, alive, not a spectre conjured by his desperate longing.

His fingers would lightly trace her arm, her face, needing to feel the warmth of her skin against his own. His eye, ringed with exhaustion, barely closed, his own sleep fractured and shallow.

Sometimes he would reach out to touch her face in the darkness, brushing his fingers across her cheek, his breath catching each time, fearing she might fade before his eyes.

He watched her like a man condemned, as if her life depended on his vigil.

And in those sleepless hours, he found himself murmuring to her, words that drifted between promises and pleas.

“I’ll protect you, my love. I’ll always be here. I won’t let anyone take you from me.”

Aemond stood at the edge of the gardens, his gaze fixed on Valaena as she sat among their children, sunlight filtering through the leaves and casting soft patterns over her face.

Lirri laughed beside her, holding Aemon in her lap, and Aemond’s lips turned up ever so slightly as he watched his family, feeling a fragile kind of peace he hadn’t felt in weeks.

Yet, the feeling was fleeting, chased away by the dread that never quite left him.

Just then, Helaena appeared at his side, her presence as quiet as a soft breeze. Her eyes, distant yet strangely focused, were fixed on him.

“All the crickets are singing again,” she said in her usual soft, lilting tone.

Aemond looked at her, brow furrowing as he considered her words. “Will they always sing?” he asked, a hint of desperation underlying his question.

Helaena’s gaze softened as she reached out, her slender fingers resting gently on his arm. “Yes, they will,” she replied.

“Good” muttered Aemond, his posture rigid, his arms folded behind his back.

But a shadow of sorrow suddenly crossed Healena’s face as she added, “Yet there is a shadow following you, brother. And if you’re not careful, it will consume you.”

Aemond stiffened, his jaw setting tightly as he turned back to the garden. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied tersely, unwilling to let her words pierce the wall he had built around his mind.

But Helaena only watched him, her eyes bearing a wisdom that unsettled him. “It will fester inside you,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper, “writhe in your blood like maggots until it bursts forth, and then you will know nothing but silence.”

Aemond’s fists clenched at his sides, her words gnawing at him. He wanted to dismiss her, to shake off her warning, but the weight of her words seemed to burrow deeper, touching something he had buried. “What can I do?” he asked finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Unburden yourself,” Helaena said, her gaze gentle and sad. “And the shadow will fade.”

With that, she turned and drifted away, her figure disappearing down the garden path, leaving Aemond alone with her words echoing in his mind.

He stood there, watching Valaena and their children, feeling both the ache of his love for them and the fear that had been eating away at him.

He knew Helaena was right—he could feel that shadow growing, twisting inside him, but he didn’t know how to face it.

He didn’t know if he could.

Aemond stood in their shared chambers, the quiet broken only by the soft rustling of fabric as he ran a damp rag over his face.

Dressed only in his loose, partially unlaced breeches that were hanging low on his hips, he felt a strange, restless tension. Just then, a knock sounded at the door.

He strode over, swinging it open to find Luke standing there.

Aemond's eye narrowed. “And what is it that you want, my lord Strong?” His tone was cold, disdain unmistakable in his words.

Luke met his stare, undeterred. “I was wondering if Valaena–”

“No,” Aemond cut him off sharply. “She’s busy.”

“But I–” Luke began, only to be cut off again.

“Are you deaf, bastard? I said no.” The words were laced with a sneer, a finality meant to end the conversation.

Luke’s face flushed, but he stood his ground. “She’s, my sister.”

Aemond curled his lip. “She’s, my wife.” And with that, he slammed the door in Luke’s face.

From behind him, Valaena emerged from their bathing chambers, wrapped in a soft towel, her damp hair framing her face.

“Who was that?” she asked, amused by the irritation on Aemond's face.

“No one,” he muttered dismissively.

Valaena’s smile softened as she approached him, her voice warm with affection. “You can’t keep me locked up forever, you know.”

Aemond’s lips curved slightly, though he made no attempt to deny it. “Why not?”

Laughing softly, she reached up and placed her hands on his bare chest, looking into his eye. “I know you wish to have me all to yourself,” she said.

“But you was in the gardens yesterday, with Lirri and the children.”

Valaena sighed, drawing him closer. “And you was there, watching our every move.”

 Aemond closed his eye, pressing his forehead to hers. “I just want you to be well.”

“I’m fine, Aemond. Truly” she whispered back, her hands brushing his jaw.

He stroked her cheek, his voice raw with unspoken fears. “I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

“You won’t,” Valaena promised, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

He wrapped his arms around her, their kiss deepening, her towel slipping unnoticed to the floor as he felt her warm skin against his.

A surge of desire flared through him, and he guided her back toward the bed. Valaena sank down, pulling him with her, his lips never leaving hers.

“I’m healed from birthing Aemon. I-I’m ready to have you again-” whispered Valaena.

Aemond groaned as he moved his lips down to her neck, pressing reverent kisses along her skin, his hand reaching to push down his breeches, so he could free his hard aching cock.

But suddenly, a number of dark thoughts cut through his desire like a knife, stopping him cold.

What if his seed took root?

There was moontea, but what if for whatever reason it didn’t work?

And she became with child again?

What if another child was too much for her?

What if the strain of carrying another babe weakened her, or worse—what if he lost her for good?

The memory of those harrowing weeks, of watching her slip between life and death, seized him with fear. His hands froze, and a hollow ache of terror filled his chest.

“Sorry—I-I can’t,” he stammered, his voice thick with emotion.

He moved away from her, pulling his breeches up and quickly throwing on a shirt and tunic, each action feeling desperate, almost frantic.

“A-Aemond?” Valaena’s voice was soft, laced with confusion, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, keeping his gaze fixed away from her.

Without another word, he hurried from the room, leaving her sitting on the bed, bewildered and hurt at his rejection.

As Valaena roamed the corridors, she almost collided with Aegon, who gave her a quick once-over with an amused smirk.

“Looking for Aemond?” he asked. “He’s gone flying with Vhagar.”

“Oh,” she sighed, shoulders slumping in disappointment.

“Yeah, nearly knocked me down in his haste-” Aegon huffed, one eyebrow raised. “Only lost one eye, surely he’s not that fucking blind.”

Valaena managed a small smile at his jest, but it was tinged with sadness.

Aegon noticed and tilted his head, his humour softening. “What’s wrong?”

She sighed, reluctant. “Like you’d really want to listen to my problems.”

Aegon snorted, folding his arms. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t mean it.”

Valaena hesitated, starting and stopping, words catching in her throat. “I just-I-”

“Oh, for gods’ sake. Come to my chambers. We’ll have a drink,” Aegon interrupted, waving his hand in a gesture of invitation.

Valaena raised her brow, chuckling. “Aemond would love that.”

“Well, Aemond’s not here, is he?” Aegon countered, grinning. “Besides, you need a break. Just one drink.”

After a moment’s thought, she shrugged, “True enough. Just one though-”

Aegon’s laughter boomed down the hallway. “Oh, come on, you’re no fun. I’ve got real Arbor Gold stashed—none of that piss swill the Queen drinks.”

Valaena laughed and followed him into his chambers, grimacing as she took in the mess.

His bed was covered with rumpled sheets, and some strange wooden objects littered the bedside table.

She reached out, curious, but Aegon held up a hand. “Ah-ah. I wouldn’t do that.”

“And why not?” she asked.

“Well, I might’ve used that with my favourite lady last night,” he replied with a shrug.

Valaena made a face and recoiled. “You have a favourite lady?”

He nodded, giving her a mischievous look. “I was once a man of many tastes. But recently, I thought, why not have just the one favourite lady-”

“-You mean my mother won’t let you have any more coin from the treasury to pay for your indulgences?”

Aegon folded his arms, conceding. “You got that right, the tight fisted bitch. It’s not like I was causing any trouble.”

“Just dishonouring your wife,” Valaena teased, watching his expression carefully.

Aegon’s smirk faded, and he shook his head. “Hel’s my sister. I love her, but not as a wife. I’ve tried-but-”

“It’s okay,” Valaena murmured, cutting him off.

She could see the strain of expectation in his gaze and let the conversation drift.

Aegon knelt, rummaging under his bed, and came back up with a bottle, proudly presenting it.

“Told you I had it. Finest Arbor Gold, last of my stash-” He poured a cup for her and one for himself, raising it high. “-You might be the Queen, but up yours Rhaenyra you tight fisted bitch”

Valaena cut him off with a sharp look. “That’s my mother you’re insulting.”

Aegon just shrugged, unbothered. “I’m entitled to be annoyed. Taking away my coin like that. Who does she think she is?”

Valaena smirked as she took a sip of wine. “The Queen.”

Aegon wrinkled his nose, muttering, “Yeah, the bitch Queen of basta—” He stopped himself as Valaena shot him a glare.

Silence settled between them as they sipped their wine, but then Aegon eventually broke it, glancing sideways at her. “So, what’s my twat of a brother done now?”

Valaena sighed, laughing a little despite herself. “What makes you think he’s done something?”

Aegon rolled his eyes. “Well, he’s spent the last few weeks clinging to you like a leech, and now he’s pissed off on that mouldy rock he calls a dragon, and you’re wandering around here like a ghost. By that logic, he’s clearly done something.”

“It’s-it’s not what he’s done,” she admitted, the words slipping out reluctantly. “It’s what he hasn’t done.”

“Alright, what?” Aegon asked, prodding with a smirk, but his tone was curious, genuinely interested.

“Well-” Valaena hesitated, glancing down at her cup. “-I’ve healed since birthing Aemon, and things were-progressing between us. But then he just stopped saying that he couldn’t, and he left.”

Aegon choked on his wine, laughing. “You’re telling me my brother couldn’t-get it up? Oh, man I can’t wait til he gets back-”

“It wasn’t that-” she shot back, half-laughing, half-defensive. “He was-ready. He just freaked out.”

Aegon raised an eyebrow, thoroughly entertained. “You didn’t have a bogey on your face, did you? Happened to me once with a woman I took to bed. So gross-”

“Aegon, no,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “I did not have a fucking bogey on my face”

“Look, my brother might have the most punchable face in Westeros, but he loves you-” Aegon replied, a little more seriously. “-If he freaked out, there must’ve been a reason.”

She nodded, frowning. “Maybe. I just-I don’t know. He was really into it, and then-”

Aegon shrugged, taking another long sip. “-I wish I could give you a rundown of the inner workings of my little brothers twisted mind, but I can't, all I can say is, just be patient. He’ll come around. Or ignore him for a while. He’ll come crawling back soon enough.”

Valaena laughed softly. “And that’s what passes for advice?”

He smirked, holding up his cup. “I promised to listen, didn’t I? besides I’m far too sober to giving you any pearls of wisdom. But-you know what you’re actually not that bad, you know.”

Valaena clinked her cup against his, smiling. “Neither are you.”

In the quiet of the nursery, Valaena rocked little Aemon in her arms, singing softly, her voice warm and low.

"Drakari pykiros, Tīkummo jemiros, Yn lantyz bartossa, Saelot vāedis. Perzyro udrȳssi, Ezīmptos laehossi, Hārossa letagon, Aōt vāedan. Hae mērot gierūli, Se hāros bartossi, Prūmȳsa sōvīli, Gevī dāerī." (Fire breather, winged leader, but two heads, to a third sing. With words of flame, with clear eyes, to bind the three, to you I sing. As one we gather, and with three heads, we shall fly as we were destined, beautifully, freely).

As she finished, she kissed Aemon’s forehead and laid him gently in his cot, covering him with the blanket Helaena had so carefully sewn for him.

She turned and saw Aemond leaning in the doorway, watching her.

“Beautiful,” he said, his voice soft, almost reverent.

Valaena didn’t answer but moved to her vanity, beginning to undo the braids.

She kept her gaze on the looking glass, watching Aemond’s reflection as he stepped forward.

His hand moved to hers, stilling her fingers, and he murmured, “Let me.”

Valaena nodded silently, letting her hands fall to her lap as he took over, slowly unfastening the ties and clips holding her hair in place.

 One by one, the braids unravelled under his touch, her long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders and down her back.

Aemond’s hands lingered, skimming over her shoulders and moving to her breasts, his fingers grazing the curve of her breasts before teasing the stiffened peak of her nipple of the fabric of her dress.

Valaena closed her eyes, a soft sigh escaping her, feeling the intimacy of his touch.

But then, he pulled away.

She opened her eyes, watching him in the looking glass as he moved to undress, his expression unreadable.

She turned back to Aemon’s cot, checking on him once more, before slipping out of her gown and pulling on a clean shift.

Valaena could feel Aemond’s eye on her, watching as she prepared for bed, but he said nothing, and she, too, stayed silent.

She slipped beneath the covers, waiting, feeling the silence between them stretching long and tense.

After a sigh, Aemond joined her, lying on his back with his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Usually, he would reach for her, pulling her close, his arms around her as they lay together.

Tonight, though, he stayed away, the empty space between them feeling colder, wider—like an unspoken chasm.

Valaena’s heart twisted, and she took a steadying breath, finally voicing what had been weighing on her mind.

“Have I done something wrong?”

Aemond remained silent, his jaw tight, his gaze unmoving. The silence between them grew heavy, filling the room with a sense of absence, a painful gap she couldn’t understand.

She watched him for a moment longer, her own confusion and hurt swirling within her, and then she turned onto her side, closing her eyes against the ache in her chest her heart quietly breaking against the silence.

The past weeks had been a trial of silence and distance, growing heavier and colder with each night. Valaena had watched, hurt and bewildered, as Aemond withdrew further and further, the once-intimate bond between them dwindling into something fragile and unfamiliar.

He watched her with a fierce protectiveness during the day, but he wouldn’t touch her—wouldn’t even kiss her.

Each night, he turned to his side, laying as far from her as the bed allowed, leaving her feeling like an untouchable ghost beside him.

She had tried to reach out, to draw him back, asking him what was wrong, why he was avoiding her.

But each time, he brushed her off, tight-lipped and tense, refusing to speak.

Confused, her mind spun with questions and self-doubt, but he only grew more distant, more haunted.

What she didn’t know was that Aemond’s silence came not from a lack of desire but from a torment that consumed him, his fears and guilt clashing painfully with his longing for her.

And one night, things finally boiled over.

Valaena was struggling to undo the laces of her dress, the ties at the back too intricate to reach. Aemond, watching her from across the room, came forward.

“Let me,” he offered, his voice low and tense.

She nodded, and as his hands loosened the bindings, her dress slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her feet.

He let his fingers trail along her bare skin, his hand brushing over the curve of her back, and Valaena shuddered under his touch, a quiet sigh escaping her lips.

His self-control crumbled. He pressed his face to the hollow of her neck, kissing her skin, his desire finally breaking through the walls he had so desperately tried to build.

His hands gripped her firmly, and he spun her around, capturing her lips in a fierce, almost desperate kiss.

Aemond pushed her backward until she fell onto the bed, pulling him down with her, his own clothes coming off in a flurry of hurried, frantic movements.

His touch was rough, and the ache of longing finally had its outlet, his need a raw, consuming force that surged with each heartbeat.

He took his cock in hand and sheathed himself inside her in a single thrust, his eye rolling into the back of head from the sheer bliss of it.

“A-Aemond-” moaned Valaena, as he begin pounding into her in a series of deep penetrating thrusts.

Gods, he wasn’t going to last.

But then, in the heat of their passion, a dark shadow crept into his mind.

He saw her pale, gaunt face from the weeks she’d laid in a coma, saw the blood that had stained the sheets after Aemon’s birth, felt the cold, terrible weight of the pillow he had once held over her, contemplating doing the unthinkable.

The fear seized him, ripping through him like a dagger, and with a strangled cry, he pulled away.

“No!” he choked, his voice breaking as he reeled backward, breathing heavily. Valaena’s face was flushed, her lips parted in confusion as she gathered the sheet around herself.

“W-What’s wrong?” asked Valaena as she tried to reach for him, her eyes wide with hurt and bewilderment,

But Aemond stepped back, snapping, “Don’t.”

The word struck her, and she recoiled, her eyes brimming with tears. "Why won’t you lay with me? Is it-do you not love me anymore?"

Aemond’s face crumpled, and he grasped her face in his hands, his voice soft but raw. “Of course I love you. It’s-it’s not that.”

She tried to kiss him, to close the aching space between them, but he turned his face away, his hand trembling as he began to hastily pull on his clothes.

Desperate and hurt, Valaena whispered, “Are you seeing someone else? Is that why you won’t take me?”

Aemond’s head snapped up, his voice sharp. “No! I do not have a mistress. How dare you accuse me of such a thing.”

“What else am I supposed to think?” Valaena cried. “You won’t kiss me or touch me. You won’t even look at me like you used to-”

Aemond clenched his jaw, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe I just don’t feel like it.”

The words wounded her, and her voice broke. “I-I know my body has changed since I gave birth. I know I don’t look the same but-but-”

Hearing her doubt herself, thinking she was somehow the cause, shattered him, he loved her mothers body, the lines on her stomach proof of the healthy babes she had birthed him and her large breasts that he loved to nuzzle against.

Aemond shook his head, appalled at how his silence had poisoned her confidence. “It’s not that,” he whispered, horrified.

“Then what is it?” she demanded, her voice rising, hurt giving way to frustration. “You won’t even look at me! If it’s not another woman, then what?”

Aemond closed his eye, breathing heavily. “I can’t-I can’t bear the thought of my seed taking root again, of putting you through that. Do you have any idea how terrified I am at the thought of losing you?”

Her expression softened, and she stepped toward him. “Aemond,” she said gently, “There are ways to prevent your seed from taking root. You know this.”

“What if it doesn’t work? What if you forget? I won’t risk it. I won’t risk you. I can’t live without you-I can’t. I won’t-”

She swallowed, her voice trembling as she looked up at him, her own pain and frustration flashing across her face. “So, your answer is to push me away? To let me think that it’s my fault?”

Aemond’s voice cracked, his gaze desperate and pained. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then help me too understand,” Valaena pleaded. “I need to know. Please, Aemond. Don’t shut me out-”

He backed away, his face pale, his hands clenching and unclenching as his shame and fear reached their breaking point.

Finally, he looked at her, his voice a raw whisper.

“I-I tried to kill you.”

The words fell into the room like a stone, each one a confession of pain that had haunted him every night since her recovery.

TBC

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: All of your replies, and reblogs, and love make my heart so very full! You are all so sweet, thank you so very much! I wish I could reply but I am a dumby who made this blog as a secondary one and tumblr wont let me reply with this account :( this chapter was so bittersweet to write. Currently writing another Aemond POV chapter from this story since you all loved the last one, and will post soon! <3 Thank you all again for all the love you show this fic! <3

Chapter 40: Tales from the dead

It was as if your body was on autopilot. Your feet pushed you forward as fast as you could go, racing toward the two figures, pushing past the pain in your side, or the burning in your lungs.

There they were. They were real. In front of you.

Home. 

And nothing in the world could have prepared you for this moment. You could not think, could not do anything, but run towards them with every bit of strength you had left.

“Y/n?” Queen Rhaenyra’s voice cut across the open air, uncertain as your body ran towards them both. 

“Mother!” You cried out, as you got closer. 

Your father beside her tensed as he watched you. You could see their faces now, Rhaenyra in complete disbelief and Daemon in shock. Your side ached terribly but you pushed on.

Rhaenyra broke away from the path running towards you, hands clenched in her skirts, holding them up as her Knight followed behind her. You ran as fast as your legs could take you, feet slapping against the cold stone as you got closer to each other, when suddenly your bodies collided together. 

You clutched at her robes as she held the back of your head, crying loudly, pressing kisses to the side of your face. You could feel her chest rise and fall, and shake as she sobbed. You inhaled the smell of your mother, and that was when it hit you. 

You were home. 

The dam inside of you broke, and the tears began to fall. You could be strong for them and you would, but in this moment, you could not hold it back. All of the loss, all of that grief and pain, every single part of your experience flooded out of you.

Queen Rhaenyra pulled you back at arms length, looking at you for visible injury, and to reassure herself that you were truly there with her. Her eyes were dark, and face wet with tears. Those beautiful eyes you loved so much, red and raw.

You smiled through it all as you sobbed, before the voice of your father caught your attention.

“Y/n?”

Daemon stood behind your mother looking at you, still in shock, mouth agape. He was dressed in all black as usual, with the Dark Sister blade at his side. He had large bags beneath his eyes, and even his usually neat hair looked as though he had combed many a stressed hand through the silver white strands.

His eyes were glassy.

You nodded your head tearily at him and sobbed louder before he broke the spell, wrapping his arms around both you and your mother. You cried loudly into their arms as they held you tightly. Your father pressing a soft kiss to your head, sniffing into your hair.

The Rogue Prince pulled back, looking down at you, eyes wild searching your face.

“How?”

You craned your neck and looked behind you to the two brothers who stood watching the teary reunion. 

“They helped.” You spoke through your tears, smiling gratefully at the two men whose backs straightened as your mother gazed at both of them.

“It is not as valiant as she tells it to be.” Darras awkwardly intoned.

His brother gave him an irritated look.

“I promised them gold.” 

Your mother looked at both of them as they waited with bated breath for the Queen or King Consorts reaction.

“Give them whatever they want.” Daemon purred to your mothers Knight, before turning his attention back to you.

“Thank you.” Rhaenyra spoke to the Dornish men behind you, voice soft as she still held you.

Sumayl and Darras bowed their heads.

“Come.” The Rogue Prince gently spoke to you and your mother, turning as he began to lead you back up the path to the castle in front of you. 

You stopped in your tracks, before letting go of your mother for one second, turning to walk alone back to the two brothers. You threw your arms over Darras roughly, pulling him into a sharp hug before gently kissing his cheek. 

“Thank you.” You whispered to them both, nodding your head at Sumayl who watched with a softer expression.

“You were not lying.” He stated.

“I was not.”

“Then we are rich men.”

“You are.”

You looked at Darras once more before holding his hand. 

“Please do good by her.”

“I swear this to you, as I did before.” The Dornish man smiled, before you let go of his hand, walking back up to your mothers side who held you close, as your father flanked your other side hovering over you. 

It did not feel real.

You walked up the path together in a blur, your surroundings flying rapidly as you felt your heart beating in your chest. The halls were still the same, the walls were just as you remembered, and there was warmth from the fires inside.

But there was something amiss. 

There was no loud laughter to be heard, nor the racing footsteps of your brothers, nor the recounting of stories in broken High Valyrian. For all that was the same, the castle felt still with the absence of your brother. 

There were no books strewn about your chambers as you were escorted there. There were no snacks on the table, half eaten with crumbs left behind by greedy hands. There was no cloak, or coat or jacket, thrown haphazardly on the chair, or chaise, or bed, by a boy who had grown warm by the fire. 

The emptiness in the room stifled you. 

Your bed had been made, your sheets had been changed, and the fireplace was still lit in your absence, waiting for your return. And although the room was full of your two maids who doted on you, and the Maester and your parents, you still could not help but feel alone. 

Even when Joffrey came to your side, and your eldest brother came and gripped you so hard you could not breathe, and the pain in your side caused you to cry out, and all those around you rushed to inspect what was wrong, there was still something missing. 

There was no small mop of brown hair in your room. No small boy to laugh at your silly jokes, or listen to your tales of Old Valyria. There was no small boy to eat dates with in secret, or fall asleep beside the fireplace as he told you stories of ghosts. There was no little boy who was scared of the sea, or becoming the Lord of Driftmark. 

He was gone. 

And with him, a piece of you died.

And as you sat in shock in your chambers which suddenly began to suffocate you, you could not help but notice that he was not there to comfort your anxiety, to hold your hand and soothe you. His cherubic smile was not there to assure you that everything would work itself out.

There was a stillness to the castle that had not been there before.

The brave little Velaryon boy who had stood up to his uncle with a blade was no longer. The small boy who loved so deeply, no longer existed. Your brother was gone. 

Lucerys was dead.   

And the castle was still.

Your surroundings rushed back around you and suddenly your father was standing before your face, uttering your name softly in concern.

You blinked. Once. Twice. And felt your face wet with tears. You sniffed and apologised softly, as you looked about the room. 

Your two maids stood by the fire, stoking the flames whilst peering back at you in concern. The Maester had brought more maids to the room with medical supplies, and had begun to fuss about the table beside you as you sat numbly. 

Your mother stood at your side, stroking your hair gently as she watched you with hawk like eyes, whilst your brother, Jacaerys stood beside her, watching you in concern.

“Sorry.” You cleared your throat.

“My sweet, there is nothing to be sorry for.”

If only they knew the truth.

You felt that vile wave surge inside you again, grief clawing its way up your throat as you looked down in your hands. You fought against the tide that surged within, its dark thick crest rising inside of you. You began to drown in it, falling deeper and deeper into its swell as it dragged you down, reality catching up to you.

You had been in survival mode for so long, that now that you stopped, you felt yourself slipping. You sucked in a ragged breath as your ears rang. You cleared your throat again, sniffing as the ringing disappeared and the surge subsided.

The Maester spoke again, in a tone that alluded to him having asked you once, or perhaps even twice already.

“Where are you injured, Princess?” The old man asked. 

Numbly you pulled the large shirt from beneath the loose breeches, pulling it up your side as you leant to expose the makeshift bandages that Darras had given you. You felt your mothers hand still against the back of your head.

“May I?” The Maester asked.

You nodded, looking away, eyes fixating on a spot on the floor by the fire. You had sat there before many times. Reading, or drinking or eating with Lucerys. Playing games with him and your brothers. Teaching him High Valyrian, listening to his ghost tales. And despite the spot being before the flames of the fire, it looked cold. Empty.

Still.

The Maester's steady hands began to softly and slowly, as to not hurt or frighten you, unravel the rags from your side. 

Time stood still.

Your mother gasped quietly beside you, as the last of the rags were pulled away. The Maester came closer inspecting the injury as you felt the hot gaze of two violet eyes staring at the wound. 

Your gaze moved from the floor to the Rogue Prince, who stood in front of you. His hand was clenched on the hilt of the Dark Sister blade, whilst the other was stiff beside him. His eyes were burning with rage as they never left your side, jaw tensed and nostrils flaring. 

“Princess,” The Maester began, unsure of how to continue, “These are quite extensive.”

“How?” Your mother blurted.

“Aemond.” You uttered, voice quiet in the room. 

A flash of black moved in front of you, as Daemon began to storm out the chambers, hand on the hilt of his blade, fury rolling off of his tense shoulders.

“Where are you going?” Your mother called across the room.

“Where do you think? I am going to end this as we should have in the beginning. With their heads mounted on spikes.” Daemon spat.

“Kepa.” (Father) You softly called out to him.

His eyes flicked to yours as you called.

“Please.” You begged. "I have only just got you back."

The Rogue Prince stood as he made a hard decision, unsure of how to react as he stared at you, watching him in anticipation. The Prince looked at his wife, before back you, and slowly made his way back over, standing in front of you again, watching as the Maester continued to inspect your side.

His gentle fingers prodded at what was left of the stitches. Humming as he softly wiped you with a wet cloth. The cloth stung as it touched your wound and you grunted, flinching away.

“It seems that they treated your injury whilst in the Red Keep.”

You nodded down at the healer.

“You’ve healed well.”

You nodded again. The cloth stroked you gently.

“Though I see you have torn some stitches here.” His finger hovered above the open part of your wound, which had begun to heal thickly beneath.

“New bruising.” The man muttered to himself as he looked on.

“New?” Your father asked.

Maester Gerardys hummed, finger hovering around your side where the stitches has pulled loose, dark bruising blooming from the edges, underneath the old yellowed bruises. 

You did not look up, nor did you attempt to. 

You did not have the strength to meet your fathers eyes just yet, or recount your days in the Keep, or tell them of Aegon’s assault. Or how you spent days in your room listening to the wails and cries of your aunt at their hands. 

Or how you fell into the depths of a storm after watching the brother you failed to protect, be crushed by Vhagar’s jaws. Or how you watched your own dragon be attacked as you plummeted towards the sea below, unable to do anything. 

You found that you did not even have the strength to tell them you were okay. 

Nor did you have the strength to lie. 

The wave began to build inside you again. 

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

@izzicle @ej-shitchats @may-machin @alegria1580 @witchy-jadda @videovampire @inkdelicious @queteimporta39 @virtualsweetsqueen @fo-cus @auratiqs @feyres-fireheart @queenofshinigamis @asoiafwh8re @teasandcrumpets @shesjustanothergeek @grungegrrrl@queenofsarcazm @marihoneywk @curlszx88 @virgogaia @loser-keiji @asoiafwh8re @whore-of-many-hot-men @vipervixxen @theonewiththeimaginaryboyfriends @watercolorskyy @lavendervisions @mazmack666 @chokefrog @orangejump-suit @nik2blog @serrhaewinin @ohemgeewhat @winxschester @cryptidsrcool @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @celestedonut @bloodyvelvet777 @iamapersonthatsalive @av-sos @yentroucnagol @sanzu-s @opheliaas-stuff @bellameshipper @maviee @persephonerinyes