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thewriterwithnoplan · 3 months

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THE HIGHEST TOWER (1/2)

Summary: As a Princess of the Realm the chance to escape political marriage and abscond with your Promised was beyond anything you could wish for. When the time is right, your dragon will lead you to them and your mother will support your union. In return, you must do all you can to protect her claim, even if you must do so from within the very heart of the Greens.

Soulmate AU: Your animal familiar leads you to your soulmate.

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Reader (eventual), Aemond Targaryen x Reader (mentioned)

Word Count: 4296

Warnings: Canon typical warnings, swearing, just general character awfulness, some espionage, canon divergence, my first time writing for hotd.

Masterlist

You had lived the better part of eight and ten years in the Red Keep. The daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen handed off to the Queen like some paltry trinket. The King’s first and final word on the matter of his granddaughter. Thrust carelessly into Alicent’s care at the fresh age of ten, a peace offering and a trade for Lucerys’ life. You scarcely remembered life beyond the borders of the castle. Only that one moment your brother's life had been under threat and the next yours was all but forfeit.

Your mother had clasped the back of your neck, pulled you toward her and begged her father for mercy. You who had not even been in the room when Aemond had lost his eye, lost to your own midnight flight atop dragon back. And then the curtain of Rhaneyra’s hair parted, and from over her shoulder Daemon met your eyes. For a single poignant moment, he stared and then a smirk broke across his face as if he knew.

Knew that you were not the innocent that your mother would have the King believe you to be. Knew that your midnight rendezvous with your dragon at the exact moment of Vhagar’s claiming was not mere coincidence. Your intentions had been innocent at first. A trip to the kitchen for a cup of milk which you would warm on the stove – a feat the late Sir Harwin Strong had taught you. Past your brothers’ room, your mother’s room, the servants' quarters and a balcony overlooking the beach. And then you had seen him. Aemond scaling your cousin’s dragon. And that just wouldn’t do.

Targaryens – true Targaryens who did not cower under the cover of darkness – needed their dragons if they had any hope of finding their Promised. Your cousin, Baela who always shared her sweets and let you borrow her wooden sword, deserved the chance to meet her Promised in the wake of her mother’s death. The man or woman that Vhagar would lead her to when the Old Gods saw fit. In the game of thrones when Targearyens already found so few chances for happiness, how could Aemond strip his cousin of her chance at true love? True, as an eldest daughter Baela’s future husband was most certainly decided – likely one of your brothers. But you were certain that Jacaerys or Lucerys would be understanding and gracious when the time came for Baela to claim her Promised, as she would be when the time came for her Lord-Husband. Such was the way of things. At least for the lucky.

Imagining your dragon, Laesuvion, claimed by another and leaving you with no guide to your Gods-given Promised made you feel ill. And so, you set out on bare, hurried feet to find and mount Laesuvion. You were a Targaryen born of the blood of dragons, of true Valyrian features. Vhagar was your cousin’s dragon by right and it was your duty to protect that claim. She was a formidable, indomitable beast but shackled with a new rider on his first flight. If you had one chance to disrupt the yet fragile bond being formed by dragon and rider, it was to dislodge the green boy and send him toppling toward the sea.

Laesuvion had hatched for you in your cradle. He was much younger and smaller than Vhagar but all the faster. It would be no trouble to fell your traitorous cousin. The difficulty became disguising the shock of white scales along the elongated arch of Laesuvion’s neck whilst searching for Vhagar’s camouflaged breadth.

“Aderī Laesuvion. Dokimarvose.” (Quickly Laesuvion. Focus.) You urged him.

Despite your efforts, you only caught sight of them twice. Once among the clouds, though you were sure Aemond got a greater view of you than you did him. And again, as Vhagar was returning to land Driftmark. Your hunt had been unsuccessful. But you had been sure no one would suspect you of such vengeful intent toward your uncle. Except perhaps Daemon.

“It is a fair price, Rhaenyra,” Daemon’s smirk was cunning, “They will not harm her.”

The betrayal on your mother's face heated your blood. How dare he tell her what to do? Your mother, Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the iron throne. This man who was no one, husband of no one, Prince of nowhere, heir of nothing. Who was he to command your mother? And now, to step toward you and attempt to pry you away from her. So close you could almost-

Almost hear the two of them whispering. To each other. To you.

“Think.” Daemon hissed, “They will demand her for Aemond sooner or later.”

“She is my only daughter.”

“She will still be your daughter in the Red Keep.” He kept up the pretence of fighting your mother, despite her arms having gone lax around you. “Not a bastard. Not a bargaining chip. Your daughter. At the heart of the greens.”

“She is a child.”

“A Targaryen child.”

“She is my child.”

“Then let her prove it.”

“Mother,” You warbled. “I don’t want to go.”

“Tala.” Daemon shifted, and his eyes met yours again as if you should know this word. You did not. “You will go. Make your mother proud. Learn at court. Find those who support her claim and those who will side with the Hightowers. You are weak and a girl, they will not suspect you. When the time comes you will be our most valuable weapon.”

“But I want to go home, Kepa.” (Father or paternal uncle)

“Oh, my sweet girl.” Rhaenyra held your face and brushed away your tears. “You will.”

“’Nyra.” Daemon warned.

“But not today.” She kissed each of your cheeks. “Today you must be strong for me. You must be strong for your brothers. You must do as Daemon says, we must keep them happy.”

And then your mother pulled you toward her firmly, pressed her lips to your ear and whispered a promise. A reward should you embark on this mission. Beyond sweets and silk dresses and extra time on Laesuvion. Beyond anything you had ever been promised or ever dreamed of asking for. Do this for your mother and she would exempt you from the chains of political marriage that would shackle each of your brothers. There was no guarantee you would be lucky like your brothers, married to one who would understand. But do this and you could have your Promised under the eyes of the Seven, the Old Gods, and the traditions of old Valyria itself. Even at 10, you knew that for a Princess and a second-born, there was no greater boon.

So, you did what you had to do for your one shot to truly be with your Promised. You squared your shoulders, kissed your mother's cheek, and stumbled toward Queen Alicent. She gripped you by the shoulder, tucked you into the folds of her skirt, and stared cruelly down her nose at your mother.

“Now I will have no more fighting.” Said the King and having satisfied his wife for the first time in their long marriage, he ambled off to bed.

As the crowd dispersed, Sir Criston Cole flanked the Queen and as a unit, the three of you marched from the room. Your mother, scarcely held together in Daemon’s embrace, gave one last warbling cry as you passed the threshold and disappeared, not to be seen again for nine long years.

You were kept that night in the Queen’s own quarters to thwart rescue or escape. Behind a bolted door and no less than three kings’ guards. And yet, that morning, upon waking with puffy eyes from silent tears and aching limbs from the harsh sitting room sofa, you found something that had not been there before.

A gift from Daemond, most assuredly, tucked under the pillow you had slept on. The handle was perhaps an inch too long for your small age, but the blade was curved and wicked sharp and would require little finesse to cause harm. Inlaid in the pommel was a single ruby, the size of your thumb and wonderfully smooth. Carved into the cross-guard flowing Valyrian script read valar morghūlis. (All men must die.)

You would call the dagger gaomilaksir, duty. You would carry it as a reminder of the promises you and your mother had made one another. One day, as Daemon had said, you would become her greatest weapon.

There had been few bright spots in your life as the Queen’s ward. So, few in fact, that you could count them on one hand.

One.

You could not fly. Such a thing would only encourage escape back to Dragonstone and your mother. But you could visit Laesuvion and watch him sweep through the clouds. He had grown much in your teenage years. Still lithe in build and elegant in frame, but more angular like an arrow strung tight. He did not take to Kings Landing, not in all your years trapped there. So used to the comfort of Dragonstone and your family’s own dragons, he often abandoned the Dragonpit entirely. Kept tethered to the Keep by your presence alone.

“Where is Laesuvion?” You were just shy of ten and two when you approached the Dragonkeeper Acolyte.

“Hunting, my lady.” He knocked his quarterstaff against the ground. “He flew north not three hours ago.”

“Do you not offer him food?”

The keeper lowered his head, “He refuses it, my lady.”

“Offer him better.”

“We give him our very best, lady. He is a magnificent but stubborn creature.”

“He is a dragon, not a creature.” You conjured up a playful grin. “And I am a princess, not a lady.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” The Acolyte blustered, “Shall I inform you upon his return?”

“That won’t be necessary,” You strode to his side and plunked yourself down to lean against the stone entrance. “I shall wait for his return here.”

And so, you did. Silently, for the better part of twenty minutes as the Acolyte threw furtive glances your way.

Until finally, “Truly, my lady. Your Highness. He could be hours still.”

Wonderful. You thought and cast a dazzling grin up at him. “Perhaps you ought to keep me better company then.”

And so, you began your mission. You charm the Dragonkeepers – Acolyte and Elder, all seventy-seven of them – who knew the princes and their dragons, their strengths and weaknesses. You befriend the maids, the scullery, the wet nurses, and the servants they bunk with. Piece by piece, inch by inch, you win back your mother's share of Kings Landing.

Two.

Strange though she was, your Aunt Heleana always welcomed you into her chambers. In your shared youth, she always had a critter clutched between her hands as if it were the most precious thing she owned. You are four and ten, a year younger than your aunt when she is forced to split her time between her menagerie of insects and the chubby masses of her twin babes.

“The young prince has lungs,” You smiled at Heleana as the wet nurse rocked a wailing Jaehaerys. “He will make glorious speeches when he is grown.”

“Only one.” She examined the creature in her hands. Today she favoured a centipede, passing Jaehaera onto you.

You had long since learned to ignore her ramblings, “The sweet Princess must be the wordsmith, then.”

“The fourth in an age.” Heleana startled as if only just noticing your presence. “Apologies, Hāedar. You wished to speak?” (Younger female sibling or cousin)

“No apologies necessary, Mandia.” (Older female sibling or cousin). The Valyrian word tasted foul. You had your own siblings on Dragonstone, those whom you had been stolen from and those whom you had yet to meet. But Heleana liked it when you pretended that you were not a prisoner, that you were her mother’s daughter and not her forcibly attained ward. And so you swallowed it with a smile, “Might we talk privately?”

Heleana startled again as she turned to the wet nurse. “Take the children to the nursery, Bria.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” Bria gave an awkward curtsy, shuffled the still-wailing Jaehaerys to one side and received Jaehaera from your arms. Heleana turned to you expectantly as the trio disappeared through a side door.

“It is a sensitive matter I am afraid,” You eyed the centipede as it escaped her hands and crawled across her skirts. “I do not wish to cause offence.”

Heleana’s eyes pinched at the corners, “It is not such a terrible burden – to be a wife. Mostly he ignores you.”

“You misunderstand me,” You hurried. “I only wished to speak of your grandfather.”

“Not my brother?”

“Do you wish to speak of your husband?”

“No,” Heleana gave you a quizzical look. “I speak of Aemond, who will be your husband.”

“Aemond?” Your uncle who’s selfishness had trapped you here. One of Alicent’s precious children married to her living doll. The thought would have been hysterical were it not so frightening. Surely not.

“It is the natural progression of things. I was given to Aegon and now you to Aemond.” Heleana’s attention returned to the centipede. “One pairing to strengthen our house, another to mend its bonds. So says grandfather.”

“Oh Mandia. I am entrusted to your mother. There need be no marriage to bring me into the fold. We are family.”

“Yes. So says mother.” Heleana stared. Not so blind as she seemed. “But grandfather always gets what he wants.”

And so, you are four years into your mission, having sat patiently by the Queen's side. Having listened and learned and noted those your mother can count on. Four years in and the time to begin quietly making moves had arrived with a head start from your oblivious Aunt.

But then you see the centipede crawl from her hands again and writhe across her skirt. And you think maybe Heleana’s warnings have more to do with where the critter is trying to lead her than it has to do with you.

Three.

It took you longer than you would like to admit to worm your way into Otto Hightower’s confidences – if there were such a thing.

You had quickly learned in your first year at the Keep that Alicent feared her father, distrustful of his greed and power lust. Not much unlike yourself, she had been sent into the greedy hands of a different house in pursuit of the Iron Throne. Were Otto not so blinded by his ambitions you might have begun to worry that Daemon’s strategy might ring familiar. But Lord Hightower’s strength was also his greatest weakness. So careful in his scheming, gently coaxing his will unto others, moving his pawns about the board, sacrificing all but himself, he could not see his tactics turned against him. Beyond your connection to Rhaenyra, you barely registered as a piece in the game.

Daemon had been right. Weak and a girl and not a threat. Not yet.

So, you worked tirelessly to endear yourself to Alicent. Just as you learned from her, you began to teach in turn. When you are in the room Otto Hightower dares not spin his lies about succession. When you appear around corners in search of your Queen-mother talk of hastening the king's condition ceases. When you are near, Alicent is safe. She begins to wear you like the expensive accessory you are, a decorative shield.

Hours trailing your Queen-mother to and from meetings of the small council, waiting patiently at her side as she sat in place of the King. Serving wine to fat and foolish lords.

And then finally, on the eve of your ten and fifth nameday, the Queen brings you along to the Hand's Tower.

“Father.” She greets.

“Alicent,” Otto brings you to his office, where a tea set for two lays steaming. “I see you have brought your shadow.”

The Queen barely glances your way as you serve her tea and then her father’s, before retreating to stand at her shoulder. She glares across her father’s desk, “This does concern her.”

“She is approaching her fifteenth year, two since her first blood. Time has well arrived for her to marry,” He stares directly at you then, “Have you any fondness for your uncle, Princess?”

“My lord, the Princes and I are often kept busy by our duties.” Your friends among the servants have divulged their schedules. You stay firmly away from drunken Aegon and selfish Aemond, remaining civil only with young Daeron.

“You must see reason.” Alicent implores her father. “They hold no affection for one another. Aegon and Heleana have already wed in the name of strengthening our family. To marry her would serve only to anger Rhaenyra.”

“And to bind her eldest daughter to us.” Interesting that he would say so openly in front of you. Perhaps you have been more effective in playing a Green than you had thought. “Aemond will be a good husband to her.”

“I have no doubt,” Alicent says and as silence stretches you suspect she is losing conviction; you have not saved her this time.

You clear your throat delicately, “If I may?”

“Of course, sweet pet.” Alicent reaches out to fuss with your hair. She likes it long and keeps its length to your hip despite how cumbersome it can be. Short hair is unbecoming, she claims.

You look to Otto in false deference, “My lord?”

“Very well.”

“I think,” You begin carefully. “Aemond and I may be of better use to you.”

“And how might that be?” He is condescending but you have his attention.

“When the time comes that grandsire passes on, I suspect the lords of the realm will need cause to back a claim to the Iron Throne. My Septa says that peace such as we have seen under his rule may bring unrest. I do not doubt that Aemond will make a fine and just husband. All I mean is that mayhaps it would be wise to keep us unwed until we may serve a greater purpose.”

No mention of your mother nor their ill-begotten plan for Aegon. Hightower's methods played against him.

“And when the time comes you will do this?” He demands.

“It is my duty to my house.”

He tilts his head as a predatory bird might. “You must swear it, to myself and to your Queen, upon your young brothers.”

To pause would mislay your ruse. To hesitate would be to sign your life away to Aemond Targaryen.

“I swear it, upon the lives of my brothers.”

He considered you for a moment, and then his daughter.

“You have done well with her, Alicent.” Your Queen-mother sighs as Otto Hightower stands. “Enjoy your tea, I have matters to attend to elsewhere. Perhaps you will be of more use than we originally suspected, Princess.”

Your first true victory. You will not be shackled to the Keep; you will be kept safe until your mother comes for you. Until such a time that you and Laesuvion can seek out your Promised.

Four.

The Queen held a strange fondness for you. Platinum-haired and purple-eyed, the spitting image of the Realm’s delight and perhaps the only trueborn among your siblings. She took pains to brush and braid your hair, dress you in green and flout you at court. Her perfect tamed Targaryen. Who would eat from her hand, take tea by her side, sit prim and silent as her Queen-mother decorated her. You were her walking-talking glimmering triumph over Rhaenyra.

At ten, Alicent’s obsession stole you from your mother. At ten and four, it protected you from a hasty marriage. And now, at ten and eight, it was your path to freedom.

“Mother?”

Oh, how Alicent loved it when you called her that. One more thing ripped from Rhaenyra’s thieving hands. Alicent pushed into your room with a tired facsimile of a smile and took the seat across from you by the roaring hearth.

“My sweet pet.” She was dressed head to toe in full regalia. “I am so sorry to have missed you today.”

You tucked a piece of scrap paper into the book you had been reading, buying yourself time to school your features into innocent confusion. “As am I. My door has been locked. I am sorry I could not come to you.”

“A precaution – one that I fought.” Alicent reached for your hair, running her fingers through its length. “But we cannot trust you to betray your mother. Regardless of the years you have spent in our care.”

“I do not understand, mother.” But you do.

“Your grandsire is dead.”

You close your eyes, “Aegon is king.”

“Yes.”

“You did not wish for this.”

“I wish Viserys were still a living corpse. That he would outlive us all so that none could claim his cursed throne. Not Aegon. Not Rhaenyra. Not my father.”

“That is not a solution.”

She tugs at your hair harshly, “Foolish pet, there is none.”

You blink harshly. Your eyes scarcely holding back tears. For the first time since you left your mother's embrace, you are truly scared. No longer are you the meek girl who walks in the Queen’s shadow. Given liberties and protection in a twisted echo of her love for Rhaenyra. You are a living embodiment of what House Targaryen will be to House Hightower. A pretty little puppet kept from your dragon, cloistered away like some trophy, scrambling for a scrap of power to delude yourself that you have some control.

“What is to become of our house?” You whisper.

“Your mother and Prince Daemon remain on Dragonstone. No blood has yet been shed.” Alicent brushed your hair softly behind one ear. “We have sent Aemond to Storm’s End to do as you once suggested. To offer himself to one of the Baratheon girls, that Lord Borros might see reason and acknowledge Aegon as rightful King.”

Good, there were those beyond the Keep who remained steadfast and loyal. It was time to return to your mother, then. To tell her all you had learned these last eight years. To name her allies and set Daemon loose upon her foes. Now was the time.

“What of my brothers?”

Alicent leant back, “Scouts have spotted Vermax flying north likely as an envoy to rally support among the lords.”

“How could they have mobilized so quickly? Was Aegon not crowned mere hours ago?”

“He was, indeed.” Alicent’s gazed into the fire. “The Lady Rhaenys was not so welcoming of solitude as you have been.”

“She has gone to Dragonstone?”

“She has.”

“And no one has come for me?”

“They have not.”

For a moment you each stared listlessly into the hearth. When Alicent shifts back to face you, she has a letter clutched in her hand. It is crisp and of fine quality but most strikingly, stamped with the King’s seal.

“I am under no delusions,” Alicent says softly, mournfully. “You can no more contest your mother's claim than I can Aegon’s. We are matching pieces in this game, I think.”

Your fear swells, “Mother.”

“Please, my sweet girl.” She smooths the hair atop your head. “You must do me one last favour as my ward.”

“I don’t understand.”

She presses the letter into your hands. “Jacaerys will fly first to the Vale, to treat with House Arryn and then to Winterfell. You will take this and beat him there. You will do as you swore to do those years ago.”

“I ca–”

“Listen!” She jerked you by your shoulders. “You must listen. You will wed Lord Stark. He is as fine a match as any. The north is loyal to Rhaenyra and will remain steadfast, you will be well treated. You must go, with this missive from the King, his final wish to send you north to snow and safety. In return for your hand, they will take no part in the fighting, they will protect you as their own, until such a time that the victor is crowned. Do you understand me, pet?”

“The King never cared for me.” You said foolishly.

“And yet, with his dying breath, he spoke of you and of Aegon. That you would carry his legacy, that you would see out his dream to the North. That Prince Aegon was Promised to this kingdom. You must believe me. You must do this for your grandsire.”

“I do believe you mother.” She was deluded. “I will do what must be done.”

Alicent has offered you one gilded cage for another. You will not be fool enough to fall into this one. You will find Laesuvion and be gone in the dead of night. You tuck the King’s missive into your book and smile at the Queen.

“Shall we call for tea, mother? You have much to tell me. I hear I have missed a coronation.”

Five.

You shape your fifth and final joy as the Queen Alicent’s Ward whilst escaping her clutches. You take three sharp detours on your path to the Dragonpit. First, to the chamber of the small council where you snatch the King's ball of quartz, you will make a gift of this to your mother. Then to the creche where the Keeper’s turned a blind eye as you pilfered three precious Dragon eggs. Finally, you find yourself ascending the steps of the Lord Hand’s Tower. To take the Dowager Queen from the Greens would be the greatest gift to your mother and her cause. But Alicent, despite her many faults, had been as kind to you as one might be toward a favourite pet. And so you do as a pet would – you do not bite the hand that fed you. Instead, you do both your Queen-mother and the woman that birthed you, a favour. You find Otto Hightower asleep in his study and you pass onto him your final gift from Daemon Targaryen.

You leave gaomilaksir in the heart of Hightower as you flee north, your duty complete.

(Part 2 : The Winter Keep)

#cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan fanfiction #jacaerys velaryon #prince jacaerys #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #queen alicent #alicent hightower #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #otto hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen

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wheneclipsefalls · 7 months

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Obsessed with your writing! Especially the sully brothers x reader relationship!! If you're taking requests, I would love to see possibly something along the lines of lo'ak being slightly more jealous and possessive even when it comes to his brother, so maybe reader x neteyam are being very fluff and cute alone and it starts to get hot and heavy, and even though they know lo'ak would be jealous Neteyam just can't help himself 😩 just as neteyam and reader are finished and cleaning up lo'ak catches them and gets soo pouty and jealous and reader is soo apologetic and makes it up to him with his own special alone time asgdgdhdhfjfkf 👀🙏🏻

Masterlist AO3

Pairing: Neteyam (23) x Metkayina Fem Reader x Lo'ak (22)

Warnings: oral (fem receiving), explicit MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, p in v, aged up characters, established relationship, polyamory, dom Lo'ak, dom Neteyam, squirting, sub reader, power imbalance, jealousy, sibling rivalry, dirty talk, semi public sex.

A/N: Thank you to the anon that requested this! I had a lot of fun exploring a softer side to these three's dynamic. Also, thanks for being so patient <3

“You’re going to hurt your eyes staring at the sun like that, baby girl.” Neteyam warns you. Still, your gaze is locked to the horizon. The water is calm and clear, only the occasional canoe or ilu and rider surfacing. Nothing showing the shape of what you truly desire to see.

“Yawne.” Neteyam tries again, finally breaking your focus away from the pulsing water. Looking up from your place in the sand, it’s easy to see the fond amusement in Neteyam’s golden eyes. “He won’t be back until tomorrow.”

You huff and turn away from him.

“I know that.” Your efforts to remain nonchalant are unsuccessful with the eldest brother. A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest before you feel his shadow encapsulating your form. He leans directly over your sitting form till his playful eyes meet yours directly, blocking the view of the ocean. Neteyam’s tight braids dangle and sway upside down with the ocean breeze carrying them along.

“Then why do you keep looking for boats?” A hairless eyebrow raises back at you and it becomes hard to hide your pout.

It seems that your attempts at spotting the hunting party were not as subtle as originally imagined. Then again you figure nothing concerning you and the brothers is ever subtle. It’s been five days since Lo’ak left with the hunting party out past the reef. It’s the longest the two of you have been apart since mating. Sure there were times when one or both of the brothers were needed in these groups, setting out across the waves to gather greater supplies for the clan, but that had been when you were teenagers.

Back then you could not verbally call them as yours. Even on those occasions you had been worried and anxious for their return, but those were thoughts that had to be kept to yourself. You can still remember Lo’ak’s smirk the first time you had bounded into his arms after he had been away on a three day journey. He was pleasantly surprised but wasted no time in pressing your body closer to his. Pulling away with inflamed cheeks, you could see the obvious pride that glimmered across his features.

It was clear he knew of your little crush.

Now, having been mated to both brothers for several months, you are acclimated to their presence. You are fortunate enough to wake up with at least one of the Sully boy’s wrapped around you. Each night you fall asleep pressed between them, a game of footsy inevitably taking place throughout the night. Even with each of your busy schedules and responsibilities you seem to always find time to spend with them frequently.

“You’re imagining things.” You insist, trying to look past his curtain of braids.

Neteyam audibly laughs at this. He straightens up before plopping down beside you. Strong arms wrap around your middle and easily manhandle you to sit between his legs. It feels natural to melt back against his warm chest, Neteyam tucking your head beneath his chin.

“My poor yawne, not getting enough attention with only one male to satisfy her.” Neteyam teases and you instantly slap his thigh in reprimand. It’s light and harmless, only there for show of your retribution.

“Don’t say that.” A pout begins to form across your heart shaped lips. Thankfully Neteyam is unable to see it properly with you facing forwards. Still, he seems to sense it all the same, his cooing and amused chuckles not seizing for a moment.

Bent legs cage you in from each side, but the loose embrace is comforting to say the least. It doesn’t calm the storm of emotions and longing that plagues your brain, but the tension in your muscles begins to unravel into a more relaxed posture. Calloused hands dance across your shoulders and sides. The warmth of his hands seem to spread across your skin, subconsciously bringing a blush to your cheeks.

Finally, they settle to knead and work at the knots in your shoulders. Neteyam is an expert at scaring away any forms of physical stress with those skilled hands. His strong grip formed over years of wielding a bow and carrying heavy canoes onto shore, proves to be efficient in digging into the deep muscle that is usually coiled tightly. You have to suppress a moan from escaping your lips.

“He will be alright.”

Your eyes flicker open, unsure of when they closed in the first place.

“Yeah…I know.” You live under no delusion that those words came out confident. Were it not for Neteyam’s great intuition and vast knowledge of your reactions, it’s clear he would still be able to decipher your mood. You’ve always been known for wearing your heart out on your sleeve. It’s a characteristic that can lead to deeper talks and understanding but also the same one that puts you into moods that end with you over one of the Sully brother’s knees.

“Our sweet syulang, always concerned for her forest boys.” Neteyam coos, nuzzling into the back of your neck. The action starts to surface small giggles from your lips, tickling at the sensitive skin. Your sharp teeth gnaw into your bottom lip to try and keep them at bay, but it is already building into full blown laughter. This only spurs Neteyam onward, brushing your thick hair aside so he has better access to your neck.

“Stop!” The pleas for mercy sound anything but intimidating with your radiating laughter sinking into every phrase. Before you know it, his legs have come over yours to keep you trapped while his fingers tickle into the soft flesh of your sides.

You’ve always been ticklish, a fact that both brothers delight in and use to their advantage. Lo’ak was originally the first one to discover it and he had been relentless for the weeks following. Any chance he had to keep you pinned underneath him with desperate laughter erupting from you, he took. It came to the point where you were asking Jake for maneuvers that would get the male off of you.

“Neteyam! M-mercy!”

“Not till you admit how worried you are.” Neteyam insists. At this point you are squirming and frantically trying to kick his legs off of yours for relief. Unsurprisingly, you are unsuccessful with that heavy toned muscle clamping you in place. “Baby girl can’t handle Lo’ak being gone for a few days.” Neteyam teases.

It’s funny how after all this time, hearing the words out loud still makes you blush. You’ve done unspeakable things with these men, gave your body and soul to them and received the same in return, but there is still something about admitting your dependence on them that makes your ears heat up in embarrassment.

“Fine! Fine! I’m a little worried, you skxawng. N-now let me go!” Intermittent hiccups cut your sentences into jambled pieces but luckily Neteyam finally yields. Your lungs struggle to inflate and exhale air quickly, heart beating against your ribcage. The eldest Sully lets you lean back against him once more as he peppers soft kisses along your cheek and temple. You can feel the curve of his lips against your skin.

Arrogant Skxawng.

“Lo’ak will be back before you know it.”

You solemnly nod in response. Neteyam is right, but five days already feels like too much. It’s strange not having his snide remarks and devilish grin interrupting your day periodically. In many ways the brothers are like fire and ice. They have parts of their personalities that oppose one another and yet it feels unbalanced to only have one element without the other. There are moments where you admittedly enjoy spending one on one time with them, but things usually only escalate sexually in these scenarios if they’re quickies. Just simple moments where the heat of passion lures both of you into going further than anticipated.

Although you prefer not to verbally admit it, part of this has to do with Lo’ak’s tendencies. Neteyam isn’t easily bothered by being left out. He’s too busy and sensible to monitor things as inevitable as that. The eldest brother only comes to heated anger when seeing other Na’vi males closing in on you.

Lo’ak on the other hand, is a bit more sensitive to the exclusion. You blame it on the older-younger brother complex that they have grown up in. Neteyam has always been the golden child, spearheading the path for his siblings to follow while Lo’ak spent many of his adolescent years feeling like an outcast. In his eyes, Neteyam was the one that received all the praise and accomplished each milestone perfectly while he was seen as lesser than. It’s been years of healing and growing up, but a shred of those insecurities still lie beneath, no matter how much he denies it. Lo’ak is possessive of what belongs to him, perhaps afraid it could be taken away within an instant.

You consider it a miracle that the two agreed to this special relationship in the first place. Still, that possessive behavior has a way of bubbling to the surface every now and then.

“Five days is already a long time.” You mumble as Neteyam’s calloused fingertips trail to the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. It lights a flame there, sparkling along your veins into simple tendrils of pleasure. Five days is a long time, especially when you’ve gotten zero sexual relief within that span.

“You think you can make do with silly old me for one more day?” Pointed teeth briefly nip at your twitching ears.

Your lips part to throw back some witty response, but the sensation of long fingers reaching underneath the waistband of your loincloth, makes your mind go blank. It’s borderline humiliating how affected you are by such simple touches, but you’ve been on the edge for days now. Neteyam has been doting and affectionate as always but your nights end with innocent cuddling. Only now can you feel the evidence of his own sexual frustration poking your back.

“Please don’t tease, Nete.” You rangle out a response as the tip of his pointer barely brushes your unparted folds. Going without sex for almost a week is one thing, but you have little hope of surviving it with the mix of Neteyam’s teasing.

“Why not?” He whispers, but those pointer fingers parts your petals and begins to rub delicately at your sensitive nub. Neteyam peeks his head around your shoulder once more. You obediently crane your neck to face him. His lips are soft and patient against your own, a different tune than the passionate one you are used to.

“Miss you.” The words are barely more than a mumble against his lips. Pressing his nose against yours he breaks the kiss and smiles down at you.

“Oh now you miss me too?” The tips of those sharp canines poke out in the smile. “How can you miss me when I’m right here, pretty girl?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at him. There is no desire to kick up a bratty attitude right now, not when your instincts tell you that Neteyam is willing to reward you for good behavior. Instead, your lashes flutter closed and you give him the most innocent and endearing peck on the lips you can manage.

“You know what I mean, Nete.” His hands recede from your core and gently trace a path up to your hips. “Please?”

The hold on your hips becomes a harsh grip, one that is used to flip you around. Finally facing him you waste no time in straddling his lap. Desperate lips attach once more and you can feel his impressive member rock hard and grinding up against you through the fabric.

Lo’ak on his best days tries to keep his composure, forcing himself to walk back to the shared hut and into your arms instead of tumbling the way he would like to. Today, however, back early from the expedition, he can’t hide his excitement. A few drops of sweat trail down the back of his neck as he helps the others reign in the large net under the beating sun. The younger Sully brother ignores the aches of his muscles and continues to work as fast as possible.

Occasionally his gold orbs snap up to survey the perimeter in search of your form. For once he is relieved to not see you there. This way he can surprise you. Images of your soft body beneath him already fill his brain to the brim. Sleeping side by side with other Metkayina horny men is extremely disappointing in comparison to spooning you from behind as his cum leaks out of your tight pussy.

From the corner of his eye, Lo’ak spots Ao’nung rolling his eyes. He ignores the look, confident that it only comes out of jealousy. Spirit far from being put down, Lo’ak rangles the net together quickly until he is finally dismissed.

Hooks hanging from the netted loincloth clank together as he nearly sprints across the woven pathways of the village. The first place he looks is the marui, naturally, but neither you nor Neteyam are anywhere to be seen. He vaguely remembers the south beach being your favorite place to spend time after a long day of working so he beelines to the other side of the village. His only rest stop is one forced by Jake, who spots him and goes to welcome his son home. Lo’ak gives his father a nod of his head and a rushed explanation before getting back on course.

It isn't until he makes it past the thick cluster of mangrove trees that his ears twitch, catching the sound of distant moans. His first instinct tells him to turn away, leaving the anonymous couple to have their fun, but then there is a distinct whimper that he could recognize anywhere. Lo’ak takes heed to not rustle the fallen greenery loudly as he prowls forward toward the source of the sound.

And that is where he finds you backed up against a palm tree, his older brother balls deep inside you.

“C-close!” Your eyes are squinted shut, the familiar look of ecstasy painted across your delicate features.

“That’s it, baby girl. Give me another one.” Neteyam adjusts your trembling legs that are wrapped around his waist so he can change the angle slightly. This shift has a new onslaught of moans freely falling from your lips.

“C-can’t!” You whine, dropping your head to rest on his shoulder.

Careful to remain silent, Lo’ak studies your form. Your sweet body that has been haunting his dreams for the past five days. However, it’s his own back that he imagines your nails digging into while getting fucked, not his brother’s.

“Don’t be stubborn, baby.” Neteyam grunts, hip rocking upwards at breakneck speed. “I know you can.”

What tips you over the edge though is not encouraging words or the squeezing of those large hands around the plump of your ass, it’s the moment where Neteyam swings his queue over his shoulder and allows your dancing tendrils to intertwine.

“Nete!” Your screech almost drowns out his own feral moan. He curses under his breath.

“Great Mother!” Neteyam groans, and from Lo’ak’s hidden spot in the bushes, even he can infer it's from the way you are clamping down around him. “I love you so much, baby girl!”

“L-love you, Nete.” Lo’ak has to concentrate on the sound to make out your strangled words.

He’s done watching the scene unfold before him. Listening to his brother’s groans he knows how this ends and he has no interest in waiting around to be discovered afterwards. Suddenly, his excitement has dimmed to that of a lonely dread.

Careful to not be seen or heard, he traces his trail back through the array of trees until he can no longer hear the two of you. Lo’ak sets off to distract himself from the lewd scene he had discovered. Truth be told, he had seen and participated in moments like that with the two of you many times. The brothers were used to sharing sexual intimacy with you, but that wasn’t what made his heart clench.

It’s the soft and tender intimacy in that moment that spurs dark feelings inside of him. To see such a sweet scene of love and devotion, all while he has been away. The lurking voice in the back of his head whispers creeping thoughts of not being needed. Perhaps you are not only able to manage but also more content without him there.

Lo’ak knows better than to heed this tempting voice in his head. He knows he has a tendency towards letting these outcast feelings sink in. However, just because he doesn’t let himself believe such sad things, does not mean he is thrilled to see how well the two of you get along without him.

Reluctantly, Lo’ak makes his way back to the Sully residence. Surely at least Tuk will be happy to see him.

“Hold still!” Tuk hisses, yanking on the small braid in retaliation. Lo’ak winces, always surprised by the increasing strength of his now teenage sister.

“Yes ma’am.” He mutters under his breath, but Tuk rewards the comment with a slap to the head regardless. Only five minutes of lacing the new shells through his hair and Lo’ak is already itching to find a way out. He sours at the idea now of waiting for you to realize he is home. Neteyam or not, Lo’ak is anxious to see you.

Tuk giggles in delight as the last of the shell carved beads are finally positioned properly in his hair. She beams proudly at the handy work. It’s clear that she requires no outside approval to know she has done a fantastic job. Of course, he knows it’s expected regardless.

It’s in the middle of giving these compliments that he is knocked to the ground by your charging figure. The two of you fall back in a tangle of limbs as you squeeze him tightly. Finally, out of the dazed surprise, he wraps his arms around your waist. Quick kisses are peppered along his cheeks and nose rapidly before they finally reach his lips.

“You’re back!” Your voice radiates energy and sunshine, but Lo’ak can still hear the echoing of moaned devotions you had been spewing for his brother moments earlier. From the sidelines, Tuk wrinkles her nose at the sight of you two, but even pinned underneath you Lo’ak does not miss the twitchings of a smile on her lips.

“How long have you been back? How dare you not come find me?!” You complain as Lo’ak finally manages to sit the two of you up. Your fingers quickly find the newly beaded braids that hang over his eyes. You grin while fondly twisting the braids between the pads of your fingers.

“I did, but you seemed a little…preoccupied.”

Your smile drops and for the first time, Lo’ak makes eye contact with his brother that is casually leaning against the entryway.

“Oh.” It’s all you can think of to mutter.

“Tuk’s been waiting forever to get those beads in your hair. Surely that must have some priority.” Neteyam quickly cuts in, ruffling her braids messily. The distraction is enough to disrupt what was sure to be an awkward silence between the three of you. Neteyam focuses his energies on maintaining his younger sister’s innocence.

“Naturally.” Lo’ak agrees, eyes never meeting your own.

Neteyam is already set to work, distracting Tuk with inquiries of getting new beads for his own hair. Luckily she takes the bait eagerly, letting you and Lo’ak steam in your own cloud of tension.

“Lo’ak I…I’m sorry, we didn’t kno-”

“No worries.” He swiftly replies while simultaneously lifting you off of his lap. “We should head out before the hunting party devours the rest of dinner. Trust me, they’re desperate for anything besides boiled fish eggs.”

He’s standing and trailing out of the marui with Tuk before you have a moment to protest. Neteyam lets out a heavy sigh, offering you a sympathetic smile and hand to help you up.

The rest of the night doesn’t proceed in much better of a fashion. Lo’ak doesn’t outright ignore you, returning tender touches and responding to questions, but you can feel the reservation holding him back. He doesn’t jump to tell outlandish stories like usual. The younger Sully allows the other members of the party to take the reins of the conversation, only hopping in to aid when specifically called upon.

That night with the three of you back in Neteyam’s marui, the tension is palpable. You try to fill the air with fun stories and comments about how much Lo’ak was missed but neither brother does more than nod and occasionally pass out a one syllable answer. Neteyam affectionately lays a hand on Lo’ak’s head while the younger brother is putting away the fishing supplies, but his arm is brashly swatted away. It’s not an uncommon interaction between the two, something they’ve been known to do since they were teenagers, but there is an added sharpness to Lo’ak’s recoil.

Neteyam’s eyes cut to you, visibly rolling his eyes to show how unnecessarily his brother is being. You give him a reprimanding look, motioning for him to be nice. His attitude doesn’t shift much at the request but he does manage to give his younger brother some space for the rest of the night. A fact that you are grateful for, originally worried that you were about to witness another one of the Sully brothers’ brawls.

As the years have passed and maturity has settled upon each of them, they’ve come to be more respectful of one another. It’s that fact alone that allows this three way relationship to work in the first place, but there are times where the sibling rivalry still peeks out. Times where Neteyam finds Lo’ak dramatic and Lo’ak can see nothing but the golden child that has everyone wrapped around his finger.

Naturally you’ve jumped in several times to mediate the interactions, but you have also come to learn that sometimes they need to be left alone to fight it out. Chances are they are back to being friends again in the morning with nothing more than a few bruises to show from their argument.

Unfortunately, Neteyam seems to decide that keeping some space from you too would help wash away the memory of the scene Lo’ak walked in on. The bed is cold, trapped between the two of them while they both face away from you. A pout sits heavy on your lips as you toss and turn all night. Lo’ak doesn’t move away when you come to spoon his larger form from behind, but it’s still not how you imagined spending the night of his return.

The next morning when you wake with only Neteyam by your side, you decide that enough is enough. You refuse to let another day pass with this hot and cold tension between the two of you.

The village is still awakening, with the orange glow of daylight barely breaking the horizon, only a few early morning stragglers flit along the bouncy pathways. Most are in a rush to get out into the open ocean and make some morning kills. Lo’ak doesn’t have patrol or assignment with the hunting parties today, so it takes some effort to figure out where he has run off to. Luckily, you can recognize the muttered curses in the Sky People language that falls from his lips.

“Damnit!”

The sound comes from underneath the walkway and you know that you are bound to find either your lover or Jake Sully. It’s endearing to see how much of his father’s lingo Lo’ak has committed to his own vocabulary. It’s still a struggle and annoyance to try and decipher what each word means but you’ve started to pick up on the feeling behind the most crude ones.

Flitting across the woven floor you follow the distant muttering accented with the swish of water beneath your feet. It takes you to the edge of the village where you finally hang over the walkway to spot Lo’ak wrestling with something underwater. Laying your body down to peer over the edge, your curly hair falls forward till the ends become dampened by the water’s surface. It takes a few seconds to realize that he is currently wrestling with a tangled net around the base of a support tree.

Even from the distortion from the ocean water, you are able to make out his impressive physique and flexing biceps that yank on the sturdy wire. When he breaks through the water’s top once more for a breath and another round of curses, you allow yourself the luxury of porusing every inch of his majestic body with your eyes. He wears one of your favorite loincloths on him, a laced garment of mangrove leaves dyed a royal shade of purple. It’s a very traditional Metkayina attire only further complimented by his dark inked tattoos and shells swinging from his signature braids.

Today, however, his beautiful dark braids are fashioned into a top knot, showing off his bared neck and shoulders sinfully. A part of you wonders if he chose his attire this morning simply to punish you for yesterday, Lo’ak is no stranger to your preferences and he has been known in the past for using them to his designs. Regardless of intention, it would be a lie to say it isn’t working as you oggle at the shifting muscles along his back while he pulls at the net violently.

The years have been oh so kind to Lo’ak as he has grown into an accomplished male and warrior. The once slim beanpole of a body that you remember him coming to the island with (although even then you were quite infatuated with his appearance entirely) has shaped into a stronger Metkayina build while still maintaining certain Omatikaya physical traits. His shoulders had spanned out to create a surface broad enough for easily harboring canoes and nets full of gain. Even his thighs had become sturdy and encapsulated with smooth muscle. Somehow, however, that form still found ways to narrow into the slim waists known as a forest person trade mark.

It has always driven you to the point of insanity, how well the brothers took the best of each culture and mixed it into your personal heaven.

“Come on!” He grits out between bared teeth, starting to use his weight as a force against the trapped net.

“Fucking Damnit!” He exclaims, starting to wrap the net around his flexed forearm.

“Fuckeng damitt” Your attempt to mimic his words come out rushed and confident but with the clear overshadow of a thick accent. It makes his head finally spin in your direction, startled expression shaping into that of recognition.

“Don’t let Neteyam catch you using that language, yawne.” He warns you halfheartedly, already back to tangling with the destroyed net.

For some strange reason Neteyam has always been more sensitive to your use of obscene Sky People language than anything Na’vi curse related. Something about those fowl words being too dirty for such pretty lips. It’s half the reason you still struggle to understand the meaning behind these thrown English curse words. Still, it’s always an effective way to get either of the brother’s attention.

“What does it mean?”

“Nothing really, yawne. Just don’t use it.”

Your clear pout is wasted on his dismissive attitude, still facing away from you as he puts his sole focus on undoing the stubborn net. The blood is already rushing to your head from being upside down and still Lo’ak has given you nothing close to the attention or reassurance you require.

“You use it.” You point out.

“You know that’s different, mama.” The nickname is enough to finally have a small smile encasing your lips, unfortunately it’s fleeting. “Why are you out of bed? It’s barely dawn.”

Lo’ak doesn’t give you a second to respond before taking in a full breath and dunking under the water again. Your teeth grind together as you wait impatiently for him to stop fumbling with the twine underwater and let you work together a reconciliation between you two. The younger Sully brother has always had a way of expressing his disapproval, the theatrics sometimes enough to have you mouthing off and trying to beat him at his own game. Today seems to be no exception.

Guilt is quickly whittling along your nerves, faster and faster as the silence stretches on and Lo’ak still remains hidden beneath the surface. When his head finally pops up out of the water, the words leave your lips within record time. “I missed you!”

Amber eyes finally flicker up towards you for the first time since your arrival.

“Yawne, I’m working.”

“Is this my punishment?”

He lags at the question, ears twitching and tail coiling together before facing you once more. His dark eyebrow furrow and the edges of his lips downturn.

“Punishment?”

It takes a harsh steadying breath before you brashly begin to give the speech you’ve been preparing since last night. There seems to be so many things to include, so many ways to say you’re sorry. The order and details of this speech are rapidly becoming jumbled until you are sure that not even half of it will come out right even before you have parted your lips.

“I’m sorry about yesterday, Lo. I really am! Neteyam and I just got caught up in the moment and…not that I’m trying to excuse the behavior because yes it was not the most considerate to you. And then the timing of it all was…by Eywa, disastrous. I wanted to be there when you got back! I had a whole plan, was going to pick your favorite fruit but of course I didn’t think you would be back that early. Still I just-”

He sternly speaks your name, cutting off the endless spew of apologies.

“Breathe, baby.” Lo’ak calmly instructs and although your urge to continue talking till things are resolved still bubbles inside, you follow his command. Once you’ve seemed to settle enough to his approval he finally continues. “There is nothing to apologize for. You’re Neteyam’s mate too. You don’t need my permission to fuck each another.”

Although his words are spoken calmly, the edge of his cursing and timber in the tone still sets your anxiety spiking. The Sully brothers may be proud to know you inside and out, but that bridge goes both ways. You recognize this tone of voice, the hint of shame and bridled emotion that Lo’ak carries when he forces himself to not overreact about something. He has a inclination to keep certain emotions locked away when deemed childish or ridiculous, perhaps ones that he was scolded for having in his adolescence.

Truth be told, you don’t require his permission. The three of you have entered into this relationship and agreed to the terms consequently but that doesn’t mean you are proud of how things went down. Just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should, not when it comes at the cost of Lo’ak’s feelings. There were better ways that yesterday could’ve been handled. A deep frown etches into your features when you imagine how disappointing it must’ve been for Lo’ak to come home and have his first welcome home be nothing more than a reminder of how well you and Neteyam can get along without him.

“It wasn’t sensitive and I’m sorry. I know how you feel about it and-”

“Yawne,” He drops the net and faces you fully, the heat of his attention searing into your skin. “You do not need to apologize to me. I can handle it, I don’t need you to coddle me.”

Slowly your wide tail slinks do the ground, following suit with your pinned back ears. Lo’ak, however, can not hide his own tell-tale signs either. It’s easy to recognize the shift of his own tail and tension creeps through his shoulders. Although he returns to the task at hand, you are far from being done with yours.

You allow your body to flip over your head, cascading you over the edge and into the shallow water. Feet planted along the sandy bottom, the water’s surface reaches considerably higher up your own torso in comparison to where it sits along Lo’ak’s hip tattoos. He’s back to gathering the net, although he can sense your presence easily.

“I can tell you’re upset.”

“I am not mad. Truly.” The brief eye contact is broken as he turns around and digs his heels into the sand, readying himself to tug once more. It only takes a few more tugs for Lo’ak to decide that this method is ineffective. He easily heaves himself back up onto the walkway to retrieve his discarded sheathed knife. When he does, your eyes follow the curve of his sculpted ass, water dripping down the slopes of his spine and hips.

The two of you may be in the middle of whatever you call this disagreement, but it’s been five days since you’ve seen him.

Five days since his five-fingered hands have explored your body. Five days since he has been seated inside of you. Five days since you have had the opportunity to express your love through the passion of tangling limbs and unrestrained devotion.

The throb of your core is insistent as you drink in every detail of his beauty.

Back in the water with knife in hand, Lo’ak stubbornly continues to give you the cold shoulder.

“You’re not mad, huh?”

“Nope.” He mutters, adjusting the straps of his loincloth.

“Well then if you’re not mad…” You trail off, sauntering over to him through the thick of water gracefully. A shiver wracks his spine when your soft fingers trace along each jut of his vertebrae. “Indulge me.” You let your obvious seductive passion drip into each word. Now is not the time to be bashful. You’re ready to outright beg if that is what it takes.

“Yawne…” He sighs, “I really am supposed to get this net un-”

“Forget about the damn net for a minute!” His head whips around to send you a sharp look, but it does little to sway your determination. It’s too easy to see the spark of intrigue in his eyes. “You’ve spent the last five days working, all away from me. You can spare a minute.”

Your hands naturally come to rest along his slim hips as he turns to face you fully, his larger frame towering over you and blocking the orange glow of the sun. You can’t even find it in yourself to be apprehensive or remorseful when those long fingers tilt your chin up and bring you looking directly into that unyielding gaze. Any attention is considered progress and welcomed openly. All it takes are a few strategic maneuvers and this man will be beneath your fingertips. You know it.

“Seems like someone forgot their manners while I was away.” The cool shells along those two loose braids dangle down to your soft cheek. Lo’ak’s calm breath fans over your lips, mere centimeters away from their destination.

“Oops.” You answer coyly, a feigned pout mixed with a shimmer of arrogance laces your features. He doesn’t stop the pads of your fingers from leisurely drawing swirling lines along his abdomen and sides. “Although I hardly think I could be blamed for such a thing.”

An innocent peck is left on his lips.

“You are the one that left after all.” Another kiss and then you’re turning away to make your retreat.

You are barely afforded one step before being pulled back into his embrace, back now pressed against the supporting tree. His lips are on yours in an instant, heated passion and desperation swirling in every movement of his protruding tongue. Barely having fleeting moments to breathe, you return the kiss with just as much enthusiasm and ferver.

Finally!

It takes considerable effort not to let your pride show in a devilish smirk against his lips. Lo’ak loves to consider himself the cunning clever predator in your little game of push and pull, but you can’t help but feel that you are the victorious one in this situation.

A cinching grip around your waist is all you require as a signal to jump and wrap your legs securely around his hips. The new position finally allows some much needed friction along your core, requiring every fiber of self discipline to not immediately grind back against him. Fingers grasping at the nape of his neck, you enjoy the way your mate completely devours you whole. Every worry and hesitation finally flies out the window now that the sweet reassurance of physical intimacy soothes those nerves.

When he finally pulls away, allowing air to reach your lungs once more, his wandering touch trails along your outer thighs. Your ankles cross and you pointedly flex to pull him closer.

“God, I missed you, yawne.” He chuckles, nose pressed against yours.

“Let me make it up to you.” It’s a soft plea, aided by your docile expression and doe eyed impression. It would be foolish to believe that Lo’ak buys the innocent act, but regardless he is too eager to see where this thing goes to truly care. Might as well let you be a little spitfire, he’ll be the one winning in the end either way.

A low hum rumbles in his chest. Lo’ak allows his eyes to linger over your small frame, revel in the way it is so sweetly wrapped around him like a vice. It’s been way too long. Although he prefers to still tease and torment you a little further, he’s too hungry to let things carry on for too long.

“You really want to make it up to me, tanhi?” A stray curl is delicately brushed from your forehead, ears twitching in response to the gentle touch.

“Yes.”

“Well lucky for you I know just the way.”

There isn’t a second allowed for questioning before your world is being flipped around again and you find yourself sprawled out across the walkway. He heaves your smaller frame up onto the padded surface as if throwing another net out into the ocean, effortlessly and with confident familiarity. You half expect him to jump up and join you, scattering away to a secluded spot to finally be together, but then large hands are pulling you towards the edge till your ass almost hangs over.

A small squeak escapes your lips as you try to understand what is happening but then the ties of your loincloth are being unknotted expertly.

“Lo’ak wait!” You attempt to push at his working finger while whipping your head around frantically to see if anyone else has stumbled upon the two of you. This section of the village is a newer addition. It’s lined with recently built maruis meant for newly mated couples, none of them occupied yet. However, that does not deem the two of you safe from random stragglers or curious Na’vi that come to investigate the noises you are sure to make if this man keeps working you up the way he desires. Lo’ak is unswayed by your resistance, gently swatting your small fingers away in slight annoyance.

“Not here.” Heightened awareness of your public location naturally drops your tone down into a hushed whisper. Lo’ak’s lips curl up into an amused crooked grin as he shakes his head fondly. Before you know it, he has successfully unraveled the twine material and starts to try wrestling the fabric away from your pelvis.

“Yes here.” Comes his rebuttal.

“But what if someone hears?” When your legs snap close to keep the fabric in place, his golden eyes snap up to your own cerulean orbs sternly. The raise of those unique eyebrows is a sure sign that you are about to walk on shaky ground.

“Then I guess you will have to be quiet. Won’t you, sevin?”

There is a way out of this, just one mutter of your safeword and Lo’ak is sure to bundle you back up and lead you away. The thought crosses your mind for a moment, but a lingering promise of disappointment at the end of that path advises you against it. It’s impossible to ignore the pool of heat in your gut as you come to realize the true risk of this situation. Sometimes you wonder if you have your own sex drive and logic playing for opposing teams.

“Lo!” You whine, hands coming to cover the blooming blush across your heated face. It’s all the confirmation he requires before parting your legs and finally stripping the fabric away.

The heat of his intent gaze upon your exposed folds seems to sear right down to your core. Even with the remnants of salt water covering your teel skin, he is sure to see the evidence of your sticky arousal seeping out. A feral grin overtakes his expression as he repositions your legs to be bent and spread properly. An unobscured view of your most intimate parts.

He leans in to give his signature little kiss atop your button, but instead of the usual teasing peck you are instead met with a burst of warmth across your exposed parts. He wastes no time in leaving a never ending string of open mouthed kisses to the sensitive area. His tongue mimics the ministrations of your heated kiss earlier but now along your delicate pussy and it’s such a skyrocket from zero to one hundred, it takes a moment to recapture your breath.

“Lo’ak! Wait don’t you think…ah shit! Lo, you’re gonna kill me!” You screech out, barely able to randomly dampen down the volume of your own voice. It feels as if it has been a century since the welcoming warmth of his mouth has swiped along your inner parts and the drastic change is overwhelming to say the least. Caught between trying to wrest his face away from your soaked petals and keeping your head on a swivel to look for passerbys, it’s difficult to keep your brain online.

“Someone is going to catch us.”

His lips finally descend from your pussy, shiny slick already visible along the cupid’s bow of his upper lip. Lo’ak uses those large hands to grip your inner thighs and spread them properly again.

“It’s been almost a week without the taste of you, mama. Not sure how you expect me to act.” He chuckles deeply, eyes already trailing back down to your vulnerable flesh. “Besides,” A finger swipes through the cut of you, drawing another wrangled moan from your throat. “I can tell she missed me too.”

It’s hard to say no to Lo’ak when he is in this state, so utterly pleased with himself as he draws teasing circles along your clit, his beautiful braids tied atop his head just the way you like and broad shoulders creating the perfect surface to rest your dangling legs. Logic and lust do not mix well, one always comes to outcompete the other and seeing the state that he is in after your own longings over the past few days, it seems the desire has the upperhand in this fight.

“So, be a good girl. Keep those legs spread and let me have my breakfast.”

You go to make some smart remark after the devious wink he sends your way but any resemblance of a planned sentence is interrupted by the heat of his mouth on you once more. Lo’ak is insatiable, skipping the common steps of warming you up and instead taking everything you have to offer as his own personal dessert. His textured tongue glides along your inner folds and swirls around the clit with flickering intensity and accelerated pressure.

The only sounds that can be heard are that of rushing water, distant murmurs of the village waking up and Lo’ak’s absolutely feral groans as he eats you out fervently. The years of practicing his breath hold appears to come in handy as he suffocates his own face with your sweet pussy.

While he makes no efforts to keep his groans and whines of pleasure at bay, you are slowly losing the awareness to keep yourself from doing the same. It continues at such a pace that sends tendrils of pleasure crawling up the base of your spin to the tips of your pinned ears. It feels as if bolts of lightning are gathering in your pelvis with nowhere else to go. Your cerulean eyes rangle themselves open so you can stare at the brightening sun with your head sprained backwards. It’s difficult to focus on the changing colors of Pandora's wondrous skies but it’s the only tool at your disposal as one more look at Lo’ak between your thighs is sure to bring on the impending orgasm.

At first, he truly does focus on getting his own fill, messily devouring your unique taste until it paints his dark blue skin. However, Lo’ak seems to find a goal after a few minutes of your muted moans. And that goal is all focused on making you fall apart for him, tremble and break beneath his skilled tongue and let those pretty sounds out without apprehension or care.

The shiny jewels of your top are flipped to the side to join your sprawled out hair as he goes to work on exploring and massaging your succulent breasts. His efforts below don’t break for an instant, finding a way to multitask between palming and exciting your tender breasts and sucking your living soul out from your pussy.

When those skilled fingers cinch around your nipples sharply just as his lips close and suction around your bundle of nerves, it’s the pebble that breaks that stone wall. Pillowy lips part to release desperate whimpers and moans as your back arches lewdly. Somehow it’s possible to feel Lo’ak’s triumphant smirk against your core even as he continues to suction your clit expertly. The heels of your feet are already digging into his flexing shoulder blades and your fingers seem to find their own way into his bun to tug roughly, but that only spurs on a deep groan from the forest boy.

If anything he encourages the rough play, buzzing words of approval along your pussy to keep you going. It’s a wonder that his bun doesn’t fall out after several minutes of your rough yanking. Were you in any better state of recollection you would see the strain of Lo’ak’s neck to keep his head stubbornly in place with every yank of his hair. Still, Lo’ak doesn’t show a glimmer of complaint. His eyes darken into pools of molten good, only visible through the sprawled slits of his eyes the few times he comes up for air or to admire your wreckage.

“Oh Eywa, Lo’ak! F-feels so good, please please don’t stop!”

“Atta girl.”

His dull nails flick at the peak of your right breast, eliciting a sharp shot of pain that melts into thrumming ecstasy. The pleasure is all consuming and hurtling you towards the cliff sooner than you would like. Lo’ak shows no signs of wanting to slow down, even as your grip on his hair tries effortlessly to yank him away. If he continues now you are sure to climax before the two of you have even begun, and the thought of not being filled by him after days apart is disheartening.

“Wait, Lo’ak! Need you inside. Need it right now!”

Your eyes lock, his own peering up at you as he makes a show of unfurling his tongue to lick broad stripes from your pussy to clit. The lewd scene is enough to have that familiar tension coiling in your pelvis.

“Nu-huh, baby. Not yet. I still haven’t gotten my welcome home present.” Sparkling eyes of mischief tickle at your intuition, warning of danger ahead.

“Lo’ak! Sir please!” Hopefully the formal addressing is enough to have him swayed to your side. “If I cum now I don’t know if-ah oh Eywa…Lo! If I will be able to cum again. W-want to cum on your cock.”

There is a moment of reprieve when Lo’ak tenderly kisses and sucks at the plush flesh of your inner thighs. Somehow the younger brother has always had an immaculate memory of which marks were left by him. He nurses those particular spots back to a beautiful shade of purple, leaving the marks from his brother unattended. The lack of response has your wall of suspicion hoisting quickly, but Lo’ak seems to be in a good mood so you take comfort in that. If anything, you start to believe that the earlier hurt has been washed away by this physical intimacy.

When the tips of two fingers nudge at your entrance, you let out a sigh of relief. Only a few more minutes to get you stretched properly and then he will finally seat himself inside of you. Truth be told, there seems to be hardly any need for preparatory measures. The velvety walls of your channel grip his long fingers tightly, pulsing around him incessantly. They are able to twist and scissor inside of you seamlessly, walls fitting around his shape in practiced obedience.

A jolt of pressure stabs at your groin, but then those fingers curl to massage at your g spot. With toes curled and a scrunched face you try to hold yourself back from the edge. This effort seems almost futile when his sticky lips come to fondle with your nub once more.

“Lo! Baby, too much! I-I’m gonna cum!”

A soft kiss is placed directly atop your mound before that smug face is glancing up at you from below.

“I really did miss you, mama.” The smooth brush of his voice darkens into a languid purr.

“M-missed you too, Lo’ak! So much! Need you now.”

The pads of his fingers press and work at that tight bundle of nerves. The building waves of your impending climax are reaching new heights and sending warning signals through your body. Already you can tell that this is about to be a powerful release, one that makes your stomach flips in somersaults.

“God, nothing tastes as sweet as you, paskalin.” His pink tongue comes to swipe along his bottom lip, collecting the sticky substance smeared over his complexion. “You mentioned something about bringing me fruit when I returned?” It’s almost comical the way his voice morphs into a casual tone even as his fingers are knuckles deep inside of you, torturing that sweet spot.

“Yes, I was going to bring you your-ah favorite fruits.”

“Fuck, yawne. You are just too precious sometimes.” He chuckles, pinching your chin and swiping a finger over your parted lips. A trickle of saliva escapes your mouth and wets his thumb in the process. Lo’ak shows no objection, instead pushing his thumb past your lips to press down on your tongue. Automatically, the pink of your tongue lays flat obediently, allowing him to see your mouth clearly. “I appreciate the thought, but you know what I really want, mama?”

It’s not a rhetorical question, evident by the halt of his fingers and the way one eyebrow arches upwards. Gulping down the pooling saliva around his thumb you manage to get out a small “what?” around the digit.

Instead of a verbal response you are met with the sight of his saliva covered thumb trailing down the slope of your neck, across the valley between your breasts and drawing over every curve of your soft body until finding their destination back upon your clit. Just enough pressure is applied to bring forth another wave of white hot pleasure. Successfully, the edge of his thumb manages to slip past the clitoral hood and find home right atop that incredibly small and sensitive button of nerves.

Jolts of lightning laces your nerves with every swipe of that teasing finger, only bringing further pleasure when accented by the other hand working to massage that bundle of nerves from the inside. It’s a measured and merciless onslaught of pleasure, trapping you with inconceivable thrills from either side.

One look at that smug expression painting his face, and realization dawns.

You know exactly what he wants.

“No! Lo’ak, you know I can’t!” Your protests are smeared by the occasional shrieks and moans that endlessly cascade from your lips. The corners of his lips curve upwards.

“Come on, mama. You and I both know you can. Just need to be a good girl and let it go for me.” His argument is further aided by simple flicks of his tongue at the bottom of your clit, between his working fingers. Pressure is already building at an alarming rate. You’ve never seen a volcano in person but you imagine this is the feeling of rising intensity that preludes such a colossal explosion.

“Lo’ak!” Your legs shake and tremble as you try to push back against him. The squirming gets you hardly any relief as the effects of such pleasure seem to already have been draining your body of its energy.

“Safeword if you need to. Otherwise, I will assume you’re just being pouty with me.” Lo’ak warns before returning to the onslaught upon your cunt.

You consider his words for a moment, checking yourself to see if this is really your breaking point, but the idea of stopping now strikes a lash of fear through you. Surely the only way to get through this is power forward and find the precipice of pleasure on the other side. Stopping now would only leave you with a sore cunt and shaking limbs, nothing in comparison to the satisfaction that awaits you. Besides, you trust Lo’ak. He would never intentionally harm you, he’s proven that time and time again. So your lips clamp shut along with your eyes as your body squirms along the woven surface.

“That’s it, mama. Just let it happen. Fuck, look at how pretty your pussy is like this.” He revels in the squelching sound that accompanies his sliding and curling fingers. The heat of your blush radiates from your in waves with the thick haze of your arousal. It causes his nostrils to flare in order to accommodate more of that sweet scent. It’s driving him up the wall, watching you squirm, whine, and clench around him in the middle of the walkway for anyone to see. Even beneath the slightly chilled salt water, he can feel his dick bursting to break free from the confines of his restricting loincloth.

Not yet.

There will be time for that soon, but right now he is focused on getting what he came for.

He can sense the trepidation rolling off of you in waves, even from the clench of your closing legs it’s obvious to see that you are fighting this.

“C-can’t!”

“You can and will. I’ll make sure of it.” The forest boy promises. “It’s all in your head, yawne. Just a little mental block you need to break through.” It takes wrestling his broad shoulder between your thighs to pry them open once more.

“But-”

“Don’t you wanna make it up to me, mama?” The ascent of kisses along your inner thighs is revived once more, plush kisses alternating between heated words of praise and encouragement. “Can’t get enough of you. Five days is way too long, little one. I need a treat.”

It’s obvious from the way your hips bucks and strangled screeches catch in your throat that you are on the precipice. So close to finally getting what he wants, Lo’ak doubles down on his efforts. Soothing drawls of promises and praise flow from his lips without thought. The little kitten licks he leaves under his working thumb gives him just enough of a sample of the sweet juices he hopes to receive soon. Motivation fueling him forward, Lo’ak massages at that bundle of nerves from both sides until you are trying to kick him away.

The pleasure is so all consuming that it almost hurts. It feels as if your body may simply shatter into pieces at any moment.

“I know what you need, mama.” Lo’ak gently guides your kuru braid to the end of the path. Eyes snapping open, a wanton moan leaves your lips as a wordless plea to continue. Begging is unnecessary because Lo’ak manages to swing his own braid over his shoulder and connect the tendrils without delay.

The instant connection gives you something to fall back onto, something familiar and comforting in this depth of uncharted territory. The bond purrs with pleasure from both sides, but it’s his building anticipation and desire thrumming through the mental connection that has your self control disintegrating.

Suddenly, without your volition or permission, the muscles in your pelvis tighten and an alarming sense of impending need for release surfaces. You try to cry out and warn him, sputtering some nonsense about needing to pee but Lo’ak hushes those concerns away, drawing on and on about just letting go. It’s not a choice, not a sensation that is in your control. Those spasming muscles tighten until a stream of your juices is squirting outwards.

Back arched and body tensed, electricity flows through your veins in the form of pure ecstasy, so demanding that it threatens to block out your vision with phantom stars. Lo’ak wastes no time in swooping in. He catches every squirt from your spasming pussy with a undetained urgency. The deep groans and whines that vibrate from his chest almost slide under the radar from your penetrating screams drawing them out. He suckles and feasts on you like a starved man finally offered the luxury of a five star dessert.

The tips of your nails are digging into his scalp and untwisting his carefully prepared topknot. Lo’ak is too focused on drinking in every ounce of sweet juice squirting from you to care about the fallen hairstyle. He groans and slurps up the addicting juices until broken cries fall from your lips and the stream ends.

“Thank you, mama” He groans, taking out his fingers and cleaning your drenched pussy thoroughly with his tongue. The weight of your body weighs heavy on you. It’s too much to consider rolling away to protect your sensitive core.

When he finally takes a breath, lifting his head to lick his fingers, he finds your gaze misted over with a thick haze. He studies the way your soft form is slack and sprawled across the walkway, not the twinkling of a thought present in your beautiful ocean blue eyes. The sun has now risen to paint the village in rays of gold. They dance across your form perfectly, bringing out every beautiful curve that has haunted Lo’ak’s wet dreams for the entirety of the excursion.

“Such a good girl, baby.” Your overwhelming pleasure still drones over tshayelu and leaves his own cock twitching, but there is an undertone of deep seated trust woven there. You’ve given in and given yourself over. With your luscious curls splayed around your head like a halo, Lo’ak is sure he has never seen a more beautiful sight.

“Lo…”

“I know, mama. God I love you so fucking much!” He can’t hold himself back from kissing and exploring every inch of your body. His hands wander greedily to grope and take in every curve of plush flesh and smooth skin painted with those beautiful scribble of stripes. Every inch of explored skin brings you further and further off the edge until you are back in his arms with shaky legs loosely wrapped around his waist.

“L-love you too, Lo’ak.” His neck is a safe place to rest your heated face. “So much.”

The night is far from over, his bulge pressing against your stomach still stirs to your remembrance his promise, but he lets the moment sway and settle for a while longer. You're completely pliant and soft in his arms as he cradles you. The soothing pheromones that draft from him are enough to finally set your muscles at ease. Words are hardly needed as you can feel the radiating satisfaction and pride that flows from his end of the bond.

Proud of himself?

Proud of how he can tear you apart and piece you back together?

Perhaps, but the most overwhelming sentiment that travels is the pride that he feels for you. For the steps you’ve taken today.

This is the first time you’ve ever squirted, although it has been a goal of the Sully brothers for quite some time now. For the longest time it didn’t seem in the cards for you. Even with their dual efforts, you had never been able to get past that mental block.

That is…until now.

Lo’ak takes the bulk of your weight as your legs are doing close to nothing around his waist in this condition. He makes a show of licking his lips and humming in delight, even when you sheepishly hide your face against his neck in response. Strength is finally beginning to seep back into your countenance even as your mind remains offline. The only subjects flashing across the forefront of your mind are the sweet traces of his touch and thrum of satisfaction rippling across the bond.

It isn't long before more of that sweet honey is gathering between your legs and leaking onto his loincloth. You rut up against him. The silent plea to feel him inside does not go unnoticed.

You’re startled by a sudden chuckle from Lo’ak. Blinking up at him you recognize that shit-eating grin showing off his smug attitude.

“What?”

“Just wait till Neteyam finds out.” He laughs with glee as you gasp, weakly trying to hit his chest.

“Don’t you dare!”

He neither promises to keep it a secret or spare his brother from the knowledge of this milestone belonging to him, but every trace of contention is clear. His disastrous return has been overshadowed by this golden memory.

As always, I would love to hear y'all's feedback and thoughts <3

taglist: @pandorxxx @pandoraslxna @anonka01 @luvv4j4ybe11 @shadowmoonlight0604 @savvysscandles @neteluvr @neteyamssyulang @ethansluv @shit-i-say-shit-i-think @young5643-blog @loaksulluyswife @xylobee @ficmenrhot @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @henhouse-horrors @neteyamtesuli

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apollosdaydreams · 6 months

Note

I would like a request with Max Verstappen and Y/N are siblings. She is his younger sister and she is MotoGP driver and…

Im sorry, I wasn't better.

Max Verstappen x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, adult language

Author's Note: Sorry if this isn’t 100% accurate. I don’t know much or really anything about MotoGP, but I will try my best.

Wordcount: 1476 (kinda got carried away)

DISCLAIMER: This is not meant to hurt Max Verstappen and the Verstappen family! This is just an imagine. Again this is in no way meant to harm the Verstappen family!

Racing. Racing is something that you loved, something you lived for. Your family however always would put Max above you. Their reason to not care about your racing was that you are a girl, and girls don’t belong in racing, girls don’t belong to have a seat. No matter what you did, it wasn’t good enough for Jos, your father. You used to have a great relationship with your other siblings, especially Max. The bond you and Max had was something that couldn’t be explained. You two were closer to each other than you and your twin, Victoria. But as you two both got older, that bond broke. You both started to snap at each other easier, say nasty things to each other and never say sorry. You couldn’t take it anymore. The hate coming from your father, mother and your brother. You left. Moved out, when you turned 18. You cut off contact completely. Blocking their numbers and their social media accounts. You thought you were never going to see them again, oh how wrong you were.

Today was your 24th birthday. Today was also your home race. You were a part of the Red Bull KTM Factory Racing team, ironic. Everyone knew you were a Verstappen, they also knew you didnt talk to your family. People would ask, you wouldn't give them an answer no matter how much they begged. Everyone knew that the Verstappen kids were strong, powerful drivers. You were often being compared to your older brother, Max. When compared to him you would always tell the interviewer that you are your own person and you don't need to be compared to your older brother.

You quickly pulled on your race suit, shoes and gloves. Trying to shake off the fact that today was your 24th, you haven’t spent a birthday with your family in 6 years. You didn’t care though, they had torn you down, thinking you couldn’t do anything in life. That this dream you had was impossible. Oh how you proved them wrong. You were making history. You were the first female rider in MotoGP, and you were amazing, this was your rookie year and you have already won three races. You dealt with contestant hate, with MotoGP being male dominated. They thought that you definitely had to sleep your way up to the top. Which was something that was just a lie. Something to make them feel better about themselves.

You walked over to your bike, you shook your hands in a way to calm your nerves. You stretched out one more time. Then you climbed on to your bike. You then drove to your starting point. P3. You stopped your bike and put your feet down beside you. You were taking deep slow breaths to calm your nerves. As this was your home race you had felt a lot of pressure on you. Once you heard the final beep, and the lights turned green you started to move.

You drove over to the number 1 spot, and got off your bike. You quickly put your hands up in the air and then ran to your team. You quickly hugged your team principal. As you hugged him you quickly thanked him. You then had to run off to the cool down room. Once it was time for you to go on the podium you walked out of the room and walked over to this lift, where they would lift you and your bike on to the podium. As you were being lifted you couldn't contain your smile, this was your first win at your home race. You have won a couple races in this season, but winning at home would always be a different feeling. You felt on top of the world. No one could wipe that smile off your face. Right? Once you got handed your trophy you raised it high in the air, with the biggest smile on your face. Once everyone else got their trophy you all three quickly put them down and grabbed the champagne. You then all started to spray each other, you ran over to your team principal to spray some on him as well. Eventually they stopped spraying. You wiped the champagne off your face and set the bottle down and picked your trophy backup.

You were now back in your team paddock, you were talking to one of your teammates when you looked up and you saw someone you thought you would never see, see in person ever again. Your father, mother, brother and sister all stood in front of you. Your teammate knew that you didn't have the best relationship with your family. Before he left, he patted your back and told you that he would be over in his room if you needed him. You didn't know what to do so you just nodded. You just stared at them, not knowing what to do or what to say.

“Y/n, sweety. You did amazing.” Your mother said.

“Yeah… thank you..” You said. You were starting to feel overwhelmed.

“Mom, dad, we should let her breathe, let Max talk to her.” Victoria whispered.

You were starting to tear up, but once the other three left and it was just you and Max you couldn't stop the tears from falling. You were both angry and sad.

“Why are you guys here?” You had asked Max.

“y/n- I, we wanted to apologize.”

“Well don't you think you are about 6 years too late.” You said. You were starting to get more angry than sad.

“I know y/n and I'm sorry, we shouldn't have ever treated you like that. We should have apologized years ago.” he said while taking a few steps closer to you. You didn't move.

“Why?! Max, why?” you said. “I wanted a family, a brother who loved me, but all you guys did was tear me down.” You started to cry even more. Your anger is now turning into sadness. “What did I do to make you guys hate me so much?”

Max’s heart broke at what you were saying. He quickly moved over to you and hugged you. He was expecting you to push him back or hit him. He wasn't expecting you to hug him back. “I'm so sorry y/n I'm so sorry.” He kept repeating. You started to take a deep breath. Trying to calm yourself down.

“Max, I want to forgive you guys, or at least you and Victoria.” You started to say. “You guys were also just kids, mom and dad on the other hand, i think it's going to take a while to forgive them.”

This was the last thing Max had expected. He was not expecting you to forgive him so easily. “I promise y/n I’ll do better, I'm the big brother. I'm sorry I wasn't better at it until now.” He told you, tears now falling down his face. You smiled up at him and wiped his tears away. “It's ok, I trust you to change Max.” He smiled back at you.

“Can you bring in Victoria? I want to be able to talk to her as well.” He told Max. He quickly nodded and ran to go get Victoria. Once you saw her you both ran to each other and gave each other a hug. You couldn't remember the last time you two have hugged, all you knew is that it's been way too long.

“Y/n im so sorry, I promise I won't let anything bad happen to you, i'm your big sister that's my job.” She told you. You couldn't help yourself. “You are only 7 minutes older than me V.” You had told her. She couldn't help but smile more, and she hugged you tighter. You saw Max standing awkwardly at the door. You motioned for him to come closer. You then all hugged each other. After a few minutes of silence you started to speak.

“I think I'm ready to talk to mom and dad.” You said. “But I want both of you to be here.” They both looked at each other and nodded. Max then went to get your parents. You then saw both your parents walk through the door. You didn't know what to do. You haven't seen or spoke to your parents in years. Victoria sat down on the couch with you, you heard hushed whispers behind the door. The door then opened, Max was at the front and you could see your mom, Sophie and your dad, Jos standing behind Max. You didn't know what to do, your parents stood in front of you. They tore you down, made you believe you aren't worth anything, that women couldn't be in moto sports. You saw your mom walk towards you. You didn't know what to do, you didn't know what she was going to do. Your dad stayed a few steps behind her. Max was on the side waiting just in case anything would happen.

“Oh sweety, you look amazing. You did a great job on the race! I'm so proud.” You never thought that you would hear those words come out of her mouth. All you wanted as a little girl was to hear that your parents were proud of you. She went to sit down next to you, but you moved away. You weren't ready to be this close to her yet. Your father looked like he didn't want to be here, that he would rather be somewhere else. Typical Jos. You thought to yourself. Sophie understood why you wouldn't want to be close to her, that it would be hard for you to forgive her and Jos.

“Mom, dad….. I don’t think I'm ready to forgive you just yet. I think that you have to prove that you changed, or are willing to change.” You said, while looking down at your hands picking at your nails.

‘Of course honey, I promise that we have changed.” Your mother quickly said. Jos was still standing, with his arms crossed over his chest. “Can we go to dinner tonight?” she suggested.

“We can do that.” you said, while looking up at Jos, waiting for what he would say.

“I would love to.” Jos said. You looked next to you at Victoria and then up at Max and smiled. Maybe they were going to change. Maybe now my family is going to be my safe place.

I hoped you guys liked this! If you did please let me know! Sorry if everything doesn't make sense. I don’t know much about MotoGp, but I tried my best!!

It would be greatly appreciated if you would like, comment and repost!!

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meraxesmoon · 9 months

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imagine balerion didn't die and after viserys' death, daemons bastard claim him just like aemond did with vhagar

I love this idea. Especially if Aemond gets a little crush on Daemon's daughter <3 it doesn't help that I'm a huge Vhagar stan. Balerion and Vhagar used to be besties, and I like the idea of Aemond falling for Daemon's daughter like the hypocrite that he is.

The fact of the matter is, I can definitely see Viserys probably being very close with his niece, despite her being a bastard. He has that same kind of blindness he does with Rhaenyra's sons, or he just doesn't care, lol.

Bonding with him is no easy task, either. Balerion is a very old and large dragon, and we're assuming that (Name) is still very much a child. She's emotionally vulnerable after the loss of her mother and being taken into the care of her father - who she doesn't know all that well in the first place.

However, I mentioned that bastard! (Name) is a lot like her father personality-wise. She has the soul of a dragon, and Balerion is her soulmate. They blend together well, considering that Balerion is like a grumpy old cat, and she's a mad little kitten.

Since he's so old, Balerion doesn't have the best temper. Since his new rider is so young and small, Balerion becomes very protective of her.

If anyone tries to mess with (Name), grumpy granddad Balerion is going to dracarys without his rider even saying to. He's a very intimidating dragon due to his reputation, but I imagine his bond with Daemon's daughter would be very strong, as in he's incredibly loyal to her.

Protective dragon granddad Balerion >>>

i wish they would have given us a scene of viserys riding on balerion (ToT) i wanted to see what he looks like, but i imagine he's just a much larger drogon lol (i love dragons)

ALSO, I LOVE VHAGAR ❤️ MY SPECIAL GAL (^з^)-☆

#cw: yandere blog #cw: yandere content #cw: yandere #yandere team black #yandere team green #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #balerion #vhagar #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere content #yandere #kay writes #rhxegal

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danikamariewrites · 5 months

Note

Hi could I request a Xaden x reader where reader is super nice and kind of shy and is a marked one like Xaden. Possibly set during conscription day where Violet and Reader are in the same year and reader has to cross the parapet. Reader and Xaden are already in a pre-established relationship because they were in the same foster home.

Parapet

Xaden x reader

A/n: This is so cute anon omg 🥹

Warnings: slight anxiety, some angst, and fluff

Your heart was pounding as the end of Parapet grew closer and closer. The wind and rain making you wobbly on the narrow stone walkway. You would have lost your very small breakfast had it not been for the two kind girls in front of you. They gave you hope that the Riders Quadrant might not be terrible.

A few more steps. You can do it y/n, you're almost there and he'll be waiting for you, you thouught to yourself.

Two more steps, then you'll be on solid ground.

Violet jumped down. Immediately shaking from the adrenaline coursing through her body. You weren't ready for that and the nausea that would over come you. But you couldn't stay up here forever.

Without looking up from the ground you could feel Xaden's gaze on you. Leaping down onto the gravel you let out a deep breath. "Name?" A deep, familiar voice asks. Looking up at the man you love and have been separated from for two years your eyes sparkled. Tears threatened to spill out. You had to hold it together or you'd be targeted by whoever hates Xaden.

You could see it in his eyes that he wanted nothing more than to pll you into a tight embrace. Xaden bit back that boyish grin you knew all too well.

"Y/n y/l/n." He wrote it down, telling you to wait in the courtyard with the other cadets. You set out to find Rhiannon and Violet, wanting to make sure they were doing ok after one of the most stress inducing tasks you had ever faced.

After being put into your squads you started heading off to the dorms. Along with Violet and Rhi, you had been put in Fourth Wing, which to your relief, Xaden is Wing Leader.

Xaden grabbed your arm pulling you aside in the rotunda. You looked up at him as he tilted his head toward one of the massive pillars away from prying eyes. You followed until the two of you were covered by shadows. Once Xaden made sure you couldn't be seen he scooped you into his arms kissing you fiercely. Pouring all his emotions and love that he had bottled up for over two years.

Breaking apart an eternity later you rest your hands flat against his strong chest. Good gods! How much muscle had he gained since getting to Basgiath. You knew he was trained from his teenage years by your foster family, but still.

Xaden cradled your face in his large hands. You felt the callouses he had earned from training over the years. Gods you want those rough hands all over your body. To get reaquanted with every curve and crevice he left behind.

Your boyfriend stared deeply into your eyes. Like he was making sure his memories of you were correct. His thumb ran across three little freckles on your top lip that had shown up just after he left. Xaden let out a breathy laugh. "Those are new. So cute, so you." He breathed out. You smiled again. Letting the tears pricking your eyes flow now that you were alone.

"I missed you so much Xaden." You say softly just for him. He let his tears go at the sound of his name on your lips. "I read all of your letters over and over again." Xaden pulled you flush against his chest again, resting his head on yours.

"I missed you too my love." You gripped his tunic so hard your fingers started to cramp. You just couldn't imagine letting him go now that he was infront of you again.

Reluctantly pulling away Xaden held you by your shoulders to see all of you. "Are you ok? Did anyone give you trouble?" You lightly shook your head. "No, but I think I made friends. The two girls I stood with in formation." Xaden nodded slowly. He looked as if he was debating telling you a big secret that was killing him.

"Stick with them. I'm glad you're in my wing, that way I can protect you." You nodded, giving him another smile. Gods you were too kind and delicate for the Riders Quadrant. He should've fought harder to have you put in with the healers. Unfortunately General Sorrengail wouldn't budge on her decision.

Xaden lightly traces your relic on the side of your neck. A shiver runs through your body making you giggle. Xaden melted. He missed that sound. He missed you.

"Just keep your head down, stick to who you can trust - especially Liam - he'll watch you. We'll get through this ok." You nod again. It felt like that was all you could do. You still didn't trust your voice. If you tried to speak you'd probably burst into hysterics.

Xaden started walking you to the dorms. He drops your hand putting his arms behind his back. "When you get your own room I can come and see you. For now we'll just have to the day time."

"I'll take what I can get with you." You sigh. Xaden stops halfway down the hall. "I have to go, but I'll see you at dinner." "See you at dinner." Xaden gave you one last longing smile before turning on his heel, heading back down the hall.

Taking another deep breath you push the door to the dorms open. It was loud. People talking, making friends, and fighting over who's bunk is who's. You immediately spot Rhiannon and Violet. They were fierociously guarding three beds. Violet makes eye contact with you, a smile gracing her lips as she waved you over.

You rush over to the girls, throwing your pack on the bed they saved for you. "Thank you." "We didn't want you to miss out." You smiled at the two girls as you all started to set up your beds.

Something told you this wouldn't be so bad. And that this squad is where you're supposed to be.

#fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing fanfiction #xaden fourth wing #xaden riorson #xaden riorson fourth wing #xaden x reader #xaden riorson x reader #xaden riorson x you

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ateotd-izzy · 11 months

Text

ceilings | stiles stilinski x fem!reader

PART ONE | part two

summary: in an attempt to bring stiles back from the ghost riders, lydia, scott and malia try to help y/n to search her memories and remember him completely.

warnings: set during 6a, kissing, possibly swearing? idk how i feel about this tbh

taglist: @brvceyamada

☾

ceilings, plaster

“okay, y/n. imagine you’re in your bedroom.” lydia’s voice calmly echoed through the room. “visualize yourself in your bedroom.”

you looked around. your bed, your shelves, your desk, it was your bedroom.

“can you see it?” lydia asked and you nodded. “okay, good. can you see your shelf? the one with all your movies?”

you took a few steps over to the bookshelf, dvds filling each individual shelf and only a few books lay around.

“yes.”

“y/n, imagine each dvd is a memory of stiles. every movie is a different memory.” lydia spoke. “you need to find the correct memory. the one that’ll bring him back.”

you pulled the first dvd off the shelf and opened it, putting the disk into your player.

can’t you just make it move faster?

“what the hell?” you wiped your cheek with your hand as the boy in front of you laughed. “what the hell was that?”

he shrugged, still laughing.

you were in your kitchen with stiles, the afternoon sun spilling through the window as you went through the cupboards.

“seriously, babe, what was that?”

“it was just water.” he chuckled, dipping his fingers into the glass beside him and flicking it at you. “don’t need to worry.”

“you’re such a dick.” you rolled your eyes, fighting the smile that grew on your face as he slowly made his way over to you.

“you love me.”

“mhm.”

“go on. say it.” stiles whispered into your ear, his arms wrapping around your body from behind and his chin resting on your shoulder. “you know it’s true.”

“fine.” you spun around so you were still facing him in your arms. “i love you, stilinski.”

he smiled and leaned in, pecking your lips.

“i love you, too.”

lovely to be sitting here with you

“can you see him? can you remember him?” lydia asked.

“it was just water.” you mumbled. scott and malia exchanged a confused look behind lydia’s back.

“y/n, you need to find a stronger memory. keep looking.”

you’re kinda cute, but it’s

you ran your hand along the different dvds before stopping on one.

you pulled it out and glanced at the cover. it was blank.

they were all blank, so you knew it would be a hard search to find the right memory.

“find a stronger memory, y/n.” lydia’s voice guided you and you placed the new disk into the dvd player.

raining harder

“you guys won!” you cheered, grabbing both of stiles’ hands in yours.

you were standing on the lacrosse field at the high school, and he was wearing a beacon hills jersey.

he was number 24.

it must’ve been winter, or just cold, because it was raining.

the grass was all soaking wet, and water dripped down your face and near your eyes as you looked up at him with the biggest smile.

my shoes are now full of water

“did i look super hot out on the field?” he joked. you knew he had only been out there for a few minutes.

“totally.” you pulled him by his shoulders and kissed him on the lips, drops of water falling off his hair.

“i did better than scott, right?” stiles asked after you pulled apart and you laughed.

“well…”

the boy made a face at you and you scoffed.

“okay, well, he’s team captain for a reason.”

“it’s fine, i know i was better than him.”

“you keep telling yourself that, buddy.”

lovely to be rained on with you

“did you find a good one, y/n? something strong?” lydia asked and you shook your head.

“keep searching, y/n.” scott’s voice was just as soft as lydia’s, but she quickly shushed him.

“y/n, you need to find a stronger memory.”

it’s kinda cute, but it’s

you looked through the dvds and picked one out at random.

it wasn’t like you could pick and choose when they were all blank.

you thought, ‘better than nothing.’ and put it in the player.

so short

“again?”

“come on. please?” stiles made a sad face as he held out the star wars dvd to you. “we haven’t watched it in like… a month.”

“we just watched a star wars movie like a week ago.”

“yeah, but that was a new hope, so now we have to watch empire.”

“okay, fine, but my mom wants me home right after.”

“yes! also, don’t worry about that. i’ll drive you.” he smiled brightly as he put the disc into the dvd player in his living room then dropped onto the couch beside you. “you know, this is why you’re my favorite.”

“what?”

“scott would never watch this with me. especially not multiple times.”

“scott never watches movies with anyone. you should know this by now.” you bumped him with your elbow.

“i know, i know.” stiles slid his arm around your shoulder and kissed your cheek. “you’re still my favorite, though.”

then you’re driving me home

you sat in the passenger seat of stiles’ jeep, which sounded like it was going to fall apart as he drove it, later that night.

you glanced to your side, staring at his face.

you could tell a smile tugged on his lips and he looked to you for a split second.

“what are you staring at, weirdo?” he asked and you looked out the window again.

“nothing.”

“liar. you were looking at me.” he teased. “cause you think i’m so hot.”

“is that a crime?”

“oh, definitely not. you can look at me all you want.”

there was silence between you two for a moment as he pulled into your driveway. you sighed.

he looked at you this time.

“do i have to leave?”

he chuckled and gave you a kiss. “i’ll see you tomorrow, y/n.”

“see you tomorrow…”

and i don’t want to leave

“keep pushing, y/n.” lydia motivated. “search deeper. you can find the one you need.”

“do i have to leave?” you muttered the words. “see you tomorrow…”

lydia sighed. “y/n, try searching deeper. you’ve got this.”

there was a growing stack of dvds being dumped on your bed after going through its memory.

you picked out another one.

but i have to go

“come on. you don’t need to go in there.” you pointed up at the building beside you inside the large gates. “you’re not crazy.”

“i don’t want to hurt anyone, y/n.” stiles spoke, sheriff stilinski standing beside him. “especially not you.”

“but eichen house?” you stared at him sadly. “stiles…”

he reached out his hand and pulled you into his chest, hugging you tight. he kissed the top of your head.

“i love you, y/n.”

you sighed, your arms keeping him as close as possible. you didn’t want to let him go. “i love you too, stiles.”

you kiss me in your car

“come on, stiles. breathe.” you cupped the boy’s face in your hands. “try not to think about it. think about something else.”

“like what?” he panted, looking up at you with sad eyes and a broken expression.

you were both sat on the locker room floor, he was having a panic attack.

“happy things. friends, family-” you stopped yourself after he gave you a look. “okay, not family. try not to think about your dad. just breathe.”

“i…” he hyperventilated. you adjusted your hands on the sides of his face. his eyes met yours.

that was all you could see. his eyes.

“stiles, just breathe.” you could see there wasn’t really a difference in his actions. you leaned forward and attached your lips to his.

his eyes went wide, but he seemed to melt into the kiss.

you pulled apart and he stared into your eyes, his breathing slowed down, the panic attack over.

you grabbed his hand and he intertwined your fingers.

and it feels like the start of a movie i’ve seen before

“i kissed him.” you spoke to lydia and the others, your eyes closed as you sat at the table in front of them. “he was having a panic attack. i kissed him.”

“holding your breath stops a panic attack.” lydia nodded, explaining to the others. “now, y/n, find something deeper. something more important to you. something more important to him.”

“to stiles.”

“exactly.”

the next dvd was higher up on the shelf, you grabbed it easily.

bedsheets, no clothes

you were lying beside stiles, running your finger along his bare chest.

he pulled you closer to him with a smile, pushing some of your hair away from your face.

“hey.” he whispered.

you smiled back. “hey.”

“that was something.”

“a good something or a bad something?” you asked, still whispering.

“definitely a good something.” he rubbed his hand up your arm. “probably the best something. i don’t know if there’s been a better something—”

“alright, i get it.” you chuckled softly.

there was no need for the whispering, it was the evening and no one else was home, but you still did.

his hand ran along the side of your face. “you’re so beautiful.”

there was no way you could’ve fought off the smile on your face as your cheeks warmed.

touch me like nobody else does

“definitely a good something.” you recalled. “he said it was definitely a good something.”

“what was?”

you went quiet again, searching through the different dvds.

some memories were shorter than others, just conversations or things like that.

“find something, y/n. good or bad.”

lovely to just lay here with you

you picked out another dvd. it was blank like all of the others, but it seemed different.

you took it off the shelf because it seemed to be staring right at you, practically calling your name.

you played that one.

the memory didn’t give you a feeling that it would bring him back, but it felt like something you needed to see.

you’re kinda cute, and i would say all of this

“come on, stiles.” you whispered. “you can talk to me.”

he was ignoring you. and you had no clue why.

he sighed and your eyebrows knitted in confusion.

it was late at night and you were both lying in his bed, him with his back to you.

“can you just… drop it?” he mumbled. “i’m not in the mood.”

“what happened, stiles?”

“nothing, just go to sleep.” he adjusted himself in the bed slightly, but didn’t face you.

“stiles…”

but i don’t wanna ruin the moment

time seemed to skip and he was sitting up, facing you.

“what? do you not trust me or something?” you asked.

“no, that’s not it—” he cut himself off. “i just don’t want to talk about it.”

“stiles, i get that, but i want to know what’s going on with you.” you put your hand on his shoulder and he, quite obviously, winced. “what’s up with your shoul—”

“nothing, y/n. just leave it.” he winced again and pushed your hand off. “i don’t need your help.”

“seriously?” you scoffed as he turned his back to you again. “you know what? whatever.”

you pushed the covers of his bed off and stood up, slipping your shoes on.

“where are you going?” stiles asked, sitting up again.

“home.” you answered. “you obviously need space, so i’m respecting that. i’m not gonna push it anymore.”

“wait, babe,” he started getting out of his bed. “i don’t want you to go.”

“i’m still going, stiles.” you picked up your backpack. “we can talk tomorrow.”

“it’s late.”

“i’m aware. my car’s outside, remember?”

“please stay.”

“i’ll see you tomorrow, or whenever you’re ready to talk about whatever the hell’s going on with you right now.”

lovely to sit in between comfort and chaos

standing in your bedroom, staring at the tv as you left stiles’ bedroom, you remembered the fact that you didn’t talk the next day.

stiles just never said anything about it to you.

not until after everything with theo was practically over.

basically everyone else knew about it, but you.

he didn’t think you would understand, which was probably the most upsetting part for you because you did.

you understood it was self defence. you understood he did it because if he didn’t he would’ve died.

but it’s over

“y/n? are you okay?” scott asked, ignoring lydia as she shushed him.

you nodded. being hypnotised was weird.

lydia had taken notice of your saddened expression too.

“find a different memory, y/n. i know you can do this.”

then you’re driving me home

the next memory you found was not long after theo was literally sent to hell.

you were with stiles in his jeep. he was driving you home again. except this time going home from scott’s house.

the car was silent, but not in the usual comfortable way. neither of you had really spoken to the other since that night, only really for pack stuff.

you were terrified that he thought the two of you had broken up, and he was scared of the exact same thing.

“i’m sorry i didn’t tell you that night.” stiles spoke up. “i should’ve said something.”

“no, i get why you didn’t. i was being pushy and you didn’t want to—”

“i did want to tell you.” he sighed. “i was so scared, y/n. i thought there was a chance that you wouldn’t understand or something and i’d lose you.”

he looked right at you.

“i mean, scott didn’t.”

“that was theo’s fault.” you told him. “scott didn’t know the full story. you know he knows the truth now.”

“mm.” he seemed to agree, but you could tell something was still off by his body language.

you took the hand he didn’t have on the wheel into yours.

and it kinda comes out as i get up to go

“you know, i still love you, right?” you told him after he stopped and he looked over at you.

“wha— oh, yeah. yeah, i know.” he nodded, avoiding your eyes, looking outside the car.

“do you know?”

he didn’t answer for a moment, then shrugged.

“i do, stiles.” you kissed his cheek. “i love you, and that never changed.”

“never?”

“not for one moment.”

he smiled, then laughed softly, then leaned forward and kissed you on the lips.

“i love you too.”

you kiss me in your car

“it never changed.” you sniffled slightly. “i still loved him after everything. he was so scared i wouldn’t, but it never changed.”

“after what, y/n?” lydia asked, hoping more elaboration would help them bring back stiles.

“after donovan.”

scott knew what you were talking about, that was something he had remembered when he thought about stiles.

“after i knew, i still loved him, and he still loved me.”

and it feels like the start of a movie i’ve seen before

then you picked up one more dvd. you just stared at its blank cover and seemed to know what it was.

putting the disk in, you watched as you ran with stiles to his jeep in the school parking lot.

this was the last memory you had of stiles. the last time you had really seen him.

but it’s not real

“y/n, babe, listen. you’re going to forget me.” stiles’ voice seemed to echo around you as you recalled the night.

“no, i won’t. stiles, i won’t.”

“you will.” he cupped your cheeks and made you look him in the eyes. “you will.”

you shook your head as tears threatened to spill. “i won’t.”

“it’s okay, just find some way to remember me. any way.”

“stiles…”

and you don’t exist

“i was the last person to see him.” you spoke to your friends. “i was there when they took him. i saw it happen.”

that night was so long ago, but all the details were rushing back to you now.

you were starting to remember it all.

not just that night, but everything about stiles.

and i can’t recall the last time i was kissed

“i know you’ll find some way to remember me.” he squeezed your hand. “ do you remember the first time we danced at the winter formal? you were the first girl i ever danced with.”

you had gone together as friends, despite everyone knowing you had crushes on each other.

“remember how we started dating that summer.”

“the summer before junior year.” you nodded.

“yeah.” he stroked your cheek, wiping away a tear. “that was the best summer of my life.”

you chuckled. “mine too.”

“remember all those sleepovers we’ve had. remember when we’ve fought. remember every time we’ve kissed, or…” he paused and just stared you in the eyes.

the interior of the car was silent, but the wind blew violently outside.

“just remember i love you, okay?” he kissed your hand. “please just remember that. i need you to.”

then he was pulled from the car. the wind stopped and he was gone.

it hits me in the car

you sat there, curled into a ball in the passenger seat, sobbing.

you muttered over and over. “i remember. just remember. i promise.”

you hated the silence, and you hated that he was gone. you didn’t even notice that he had started to slip from your mind.

not until you walked into school the next day, anxiety overwhelming you as your brain tried to remember why it felt like you were forgetting something.

why it felt like a whole piece of you was missing.

just then, remembering what it was like when he was taken, every single memory of yours that included stiles came rushing back.

memories from when you were friends as kids, up until high school. memories from after scott was bitten, back when stiles had his buzzcut.

memories from when he was possessed by the nogitsune. memories from all the times both of you had almost died.

memories of the two of you before and after you started dating. memories with scott and the pack, memories with his dad, memories alone.

all of it.

and it feels like the end of a movie i’ve seen before

you opened your eyes and looked around. you weren’t in your bedroom anymore, you were back in argent’s underground bunker with lydia, scott and malia.

“y/n.”

lydia had tried to get your attention, but stiles’ voice played over and over in your mind.

you could see bright lights coming from outside the room, and you rushed out. the three of your friends who were still there ran after you.

you stopped in the corridor, the lights so bright you couldn’t see anything.

then you could see him.

not his face, or any defining qualities at all, but you knew it was him.

he was more like a silhouette, but you could recognize stiles stilinski anywhere.

“stiles.” you breathed out, a smile breaking out onto your face.

you were finally going to have him back. after months of the awful anxiety and feeling that something was missing.

he was like the last piece of your puzzle, and you were going to be complete.

then the light faded.

before

a/n: first post on tumblr help this is scary

967 notes · View notes

luvendiary · 1 year

Note

Hello!!! Imagine hiccup telling reader "I'm in love with you" / "Marry me" out of blue after a stare down (can be established relationship or not muahahaha)

a/n: here it is at last! i had such a tough time with this one, and i’m sorry for the delay. i apologize for any historical or plot inaccuracy. ly! i hope you like it! requests are open.

Weakness

Being a viking was tough, especially if you were a girl. You had always been smart, but sometimes smart didn’t cut it, especially if you were a girl. You had to also put a tough front, and that sometimes meant being cold or acting as if nothing really bothered you. When you had started to train with the dragon riders, you had to be rough, as to not be taken advantage of.

“Don’t let anyone trade you a cat for a deer Y/N,” you father had told you when you were just a girl. Don’t be weak, don’t let anyone take advantage of you.

So you made sure no one ever did, you built up your walls and never allowed yourself to feel weak. You had a reputation to uphold.

The first time Hiccup joined your training, you had felt the need to join in on the others taunting, it made you internally scream realizing how weak he was. On the other hand, your heart felt moved by him, you soon realized that both reactions were due to the same feeling: you wanted him to be strong, you didn’t want anyone to take advantage of him.

So you stood up for him.

“Is this some kind a joke to you?!” Astrid screamed at him.

Hiccup laid on the floor, after failing to successfully fight-off the Deadly Nadder.

“Our parent’s war is about to become ours!-”

“Enough Astrid,” you said, walking down the hall and sheathing your daggers. “Give him a break.”

She scoffed in disbelief, as she glanced down at Hiccup with disdain. She then turned his back to him and approached you instead.

“Weakness is not something to be proud of Y/N,” Astrid whispered harshly before walking away.

You bit your tongue and remained stoic in your manner.

The voice from the boy you had just defended broke you from your trance, “Uh-, thank you…You really didn’t have to, I had it sorted.”

You glared down at him and just stomped away.

=-=

Over the years you and Hiccup had grown closer. When you caught him sneaking Toothless into the village you had freaked out, but decided against saying anything up until you could corner him and confront him about it. So that’s exactly what you did, to which in return he told you to meet him in the forest, where he took you on a beautiful ride at sunset -against your will, might you add.

You realized he was not weak, but rather different. He was strong in a way you could never be, and that stung. However, you had to learn to live with it. If you had to be weaker than someone, you was glad that someone was Hiccup.

Hiccup was like a vine creeping up the walls you had worked to hard to build, and you weren’t totally against it. It felt nice.

So you allowed yourself to bask in the happiness he made you feel, but nothing more. Although seeing him made you want to spend every waking moment in his company, you had decided that it would just make you gullible. You could not risk the chance that he would take advantage of you. This was for your own protection. You had to be strong.

=-=

When Hiccup pitched the idea of the Edge to his father, you had been there to back him up so it was only fitting that you two were the responsible ones to solve any strategical problem that came with it. While Astrid might have been a fantastic addition to your team, and she would’ve certainly been helpful on these sort of mission, she had her hands full with the dragon-riding academy she had started back at Berk. And that’s how you had ended up all night in Hiccup’s house trying to come up with an anti-fire contraption after Snoutlout’s dragon had burned yours down.

“Okay, what if we have a wheel, with buckets on it that collect water, just ready for the go,” you said. You were sprawled on the floor, staring at the ceiling as you fidgeted with one of the parts from Hiccup’s prosthetic leg.

“That would be a good idea, but us having to go for the buckets will take some time, which means that the fire would have already spread,” the brown-haired boy replied. “We need something we can pull on, or something. Something that’s already set up, and available in case of any accidents.”

“Pull…Ruff loves pulling Tuff’s hair, he always gets so mad” you said, a giggle escaping your lips in your light state of delirium.

Moments like these were special to Hiccup, he could see who you were without having to put up a front.

He chuckled and glanced down at you with false disdain, “Focus Y/N/N!”

You sat up and rubbed the sleep from your eyes, still in a light fit of laughter.

“I’m sorry, i’m sorry…it’s just been a long day,” you replied with a sleep-ridden smile.

Hiccup took you in, sitting comfortably on his floor, hair messy and a drowsy grin adorning your lips. You looked breathtaking.

“I better get going, we’ll solve this tomorrow,” you said, standing up and gathering the things you could save from the fire.

“Wait,” Hiccup retaliated, “where are you going to sleep?”

“The meeting room,” you responded simply.

“The hell you are, you’ll freeze in there.”

“It’s not like we haven’t spent the night on Glacier Island Hiccup, it’s not a big deal.”

He stared down at you, a serious expression on his face, “You’ll stay here. It’s and order, as future Chief of Berk.”

You didn’t shy away from his stare, and instead met him halfway, “Good thing you’re not Chief yet, and we’re not in Berk.”

“You’re very stubborn, you know that?” he said without breaking eye-contact.

“So I’ve been told.”

“You should probably do something about that”.

“That wouldn’t make me a very good viking now, would it?”

“I think it would make you a fantastic viking”. He said, as he slowly approached you, a teasing smirk plastered on his face.

“Maybe, but a lot less fun too. Besides, who would put Snotlout in his place?” You retaliated, a shit-eating grin, challenging his.

“We can manage”.

“Oh, but I don’t think we can-“.

“I’m in love with you.”

You froze, and stumbled backwards slightly. You saw Hiccup’s expression change, his teasing demeanor became more sullen, as if he had realized what he had just said.

“What?” you uttered in disbelief.

Hiccup sighed and forced himself to not shy away.

“I’m in love with you Y/N, so I will not let you sleep out there alone and in the cold.”

You remained silent. Had you allowed all of this to go too far? You shook your head, trying to deny what you had just heard and fumbled with the door handle before running out into the pouring midnight rain.

“Y/N,” you heard Hiccup said from behind you. He was calm, and had a slight look of disappointment. “Come back inside please, you’re going to get sick.”

“Hiccup, you don’t… this is not…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said as he stepped out into the rain. “I know what I feel, it doesn’t mean you have to reciprocate. I just want you to be safe.”

“Why?!” you said in a slighter angrier tone than you had meant to. Everything was going so fast.

“Because I love you!” he screamed back.

“I don’t know how to love!” you replied, frustration evident in your voice.

Silence fell over both of you. You could see that your confession was something he was not expecting. The rain fell over both of you, as if stripping away every facade you had put so much effort in building.

Your rejection of weakness made you reject love, and now that you were doing exactly that you laid bare, in the weakest state you had ever found yourself in.

“I can teach you how,” he said, breaking the silence. It was merely but a whisper, but it felt as if he was shouting it to the world.

“W-What?”

“I can teach you, if you’d let me.”

Your eyes went wide, as you nodded your head hesitantly.

He smiled, and slowly approached you before carefully wrapping your arms around you, as if you were a fragile thing. You were okay with it for now. You were okay with being taken care of. You were okay with being held. And you were okay with being weak, because it was in this weakness were you found strength.

#hiccup haddock x reader #how to train a dragon 2 #httyd2 #httyd #hiccup #how to train your dragon #hiccup x reader #hiccup httyd #hiccup haddock #hiccup horrendous haddock the 3rd

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mirai-e-jump · 7 months

Text

Hero Vision Vol.37 (2010/Summer) ft. Kamen Rider OOO Cast Members Watanabe Shu & Miura Ryosuke Interviews (translations below)

Publication: September 7, 2010

Watanabe Shu (Eiji Hino)

"Playing the role of the main character Eiji Hino and Kamen Rider OOO in "Kamen Rider OOO," is Watanabe Shu-kun. He's always thought, "I've always wanted to become a Kamen Rider," and the passion he has for this production has only seemed to have intensified. Watanabe-kun has only just started to create the role, but what's the main appeal of OOO and Eiji? We present to you this hot interview."

-I'm going to become a Kamen Rider!-

Ever since my first year of elementary school, starting with "Kamen Rider Kuuga," I've watched all of the Heisei Kamen Rider series in real time. At first, seeing a Kamen Rider defeat a monster was just so cool, and I couldn't stop watching. Around the time of the third series, "Ryuki," and fourth series, "Faiz," I was able to better understand even the smallest of details, and I began to think, "I'm going to become a Kamen Rider!"

While I continued to think like this, the chance to audition for "Kamen Rider OOO" was presented to me. I was more determined than any of the other contestants to win the audition, and it's not an exaggeration to say that I was putting my life on the line. That's why when I was chosen, I was so happy that I burst into tears.

Out of all the Heisei Kamen Rider series, the one I like the most is Kamen Rider Faiz. When he transforms, this area (his face and the 5 sections of his body) beeps and lights up, and when he does a Rider Kick, there's a flash of red…..the transformation and battle scenes are really cool!

Not only Faiz, but I've been influenced by the previous works of my seniors in many ways. In particular, when the Producer told me that Eiji's character is similar to that of Ryuki's main character (Shinji Kido), I had a fresh new look on him.

However, I don't want to end up copying his character, rather, I want to make sure that Eiji's own character comes through. When I think, "The feeling of Eiji," it's…..that he doesn't sweat the small stuff, and that he doesn't care about looking cool. Still, he'll face anyone directly, and has a strong will to protect what he wants to protect at all costs. I think that Eiji's a very straightforward guy. I also think the fact that he carries around nothing but his underwear and some coins means that he doesn't worry about appearances. My personality is that I also don't sweat the small stuff (laughs), and I'm not shy, so I have many similarities with Eiji. I'd like to play the role of a reliable hero by incorporating the coolness of Eiji and OOO into my own personality.

-A carefully crafted transformation scene-

It's been about 3 weeks since filming began (this interview takes place in early July), but the scale of the show's production was beyond my imagination. From the number of people involved, the methods used for filming, and everything else was massive. I get really excited when I think about being in such a production. I'll never forget the excitement I felt when I filmed the transformation scene for the first time! In Kamen Rider W's film (Kamen Rider W Forever), there's a scene where OOO appears, and by saying, "Henshin!," I realized just how hard I'd been working to get here……and I almost started to cry without thinking.

OOO's transformation is so cool! There's lots of attention to detail, like with the 3 medals in the belt and the elaborate moves. The Action Director, (Tsuyoshi) Miyazaki, came up with the basics, and we worked together on the detailed hand movements and positions. I suggested that since my left hand was facing the camera, my palm should be facing towards it, and also thought up ways of saying, "Henshin!" It's an important scene throughout the show, and I want to create the image of Eiji and the hero that I envisioned, so I was very specific about it. In W's film, Eiji is supposed to have experienced transforming many times before, so I made sure he looked confident. But, the transformation in the first episode of our main story is Eiji's first transformation, so it gives off a fresh feeling. I hope you enjoy both!

On days where I was taught how to pose, I'd practice by myself at home until midnight. In my mind, I created the image of becoming OOO as if I were in CG (laughs). I can't wait to see it, as the end result will be even better than that. I definitely have to go to the preview screenings! (laughs).

Eiji's a guy who's on the move alot, so I'm looking forward to seeing more action scenes. We shot alot in episodes 1 and 2, with me being grabbed by the monsters, being thrown around, being blown up, and rolling around. I'm still abit awkward at it, but with the help of Director Miyazaki and Suit Actor (Seiji) Takaiwa-san, I hope that in the end, I'll be able to jump off a building.

Ah, I mean, I want to improve that badly, but whether I can really do it or not is another story! (laughs). My dream is to punch and kick the monsters untransformed, so I'd like to make that happen too. If I keep talking about it like this, it'll come true someday, right? (laughs).

-Teamwork is the best!-

Things are so much fun on set. Ankh's actor, (Miura) Ryosuke-kun, is currently 5 years older me, and Shintaro Goto's actor, (Asaya) Kimijima-kun is 3 years older, but once I started talking to them, we quickly became friends. Miura-kun is the person I interact with the most in my role, so we're often together on set, and we talk about things other than acting, like my favorite manga (laughs). You get to know Miura-kun as he performs during filming. When the cameras aren't rolling, we talk about different topics, and I'd to get to know Miura-kun better when we're not acting.

As for Kimijima-kun….I was already a fan (laughs). When I was in middle school, I saw Kimijima-kun as a model in a fashion magazine, and it made me happy. Both of them are like kind older brothers, so I think it'll be alot of fun for the 3 of us to be in the same dressing room together.

We're off to a good start, and I have a feeling that the teamwork on set will keep getting better. We'll create an interesting show together, so please look forward to it!

-Watanabe Shu's Body-

Head: I'm a super positive person, so I just get through everything with the attitude of, "Well, I'll just figure it out." Who do I take after…..maybe it's a mutation? (laughs).

Ear: I've been told that I have "Hell Ears," because I carefully listen and remember the various things people say (laughs). I don't have any piercings…..making a hole looks like it'd hurt.

Eyes: I used to play sports, so my eyesight is well developed. I can even dodge punches, which I think will help me with action scenes!

Nose: I'm sensitive to the smell of food, and can guess what kind of food it is without looking. By the way, I love the smell of meat. I'm like a cave man (laughs).

Hand: I like to draw, and got the highest scores in art. But, I was more involved with sports, so now I'm abit rusty. Women probably prefer slimmer fingers anyway (laughs).

Mouth: I'm not shy at all, so even if I just met someone, I'll talk to them as much as I can. In other words, I'm annoying (laughs).

Foot: I'm fast! I used to run short distance and hurdle races, but I'm especially good at 400 meters races, and once took 3rd place in a prefectural competition with a time of 51.24 seconds!

Mind: I don't get upset about things too much. Maybe it's because a girl called me "insensitive" when I was in elementary school. Now that I think about it, that word seems to carry a serious meaning (laughs).

OOO: The theme of OOO is "Desire," and my "Desire" was to become a Kamen Rider. I think it's because I kept that in mind that I was able to encounter this production. Now, OOO is "Desire" itself. _

Miura Ryosuke (Ankh)

"Playing the double role of Shingo Izumi, a detective, and Ankh, the monster who possesses him in "Kamen Rider OOO," is Miura Ryosuke-kun. With the aim of, "Playing a beloved monster," he seems to be exploring for new ways to express himself everyday."

-Aiming to become a beloved monster-

I met with the Producer and Director through an interview, where I was given the opportunity to be apart of this production. The day before the interview, I was so nervous because my mind was racing (bitter smile). But, in order for people to understand you, you have to enjoy yourself, so that's what I did, and from the beginning, everyone talked to me in such a friendly manner…..I immediately felt relaxed and at ease.

When I was chosen for the role of Ankh, I thought to myself, "I'm grateful." I've been an actor for about 9 years now, and I was afraid that I'd only be doing on the spot performances. But, I now feel that it's because of my previous experience that I was able to get a role that'll last as long as a year. That's why I'm "grateful."

After filming began, the separation of the roles for Shingo Izumi and Ankh become a major point for me. Director (Ryuta) Tasaki, who shot episodes 1 and 2, asked me to, "Make some differences," for my tone of voice, facial expressions, and movements. Looking at the script, it's obviously different. But, when I tried playing the role, it was very difficult. Shingo becomes possessed by Ankh in the first episode, so we don't know much about his personality. His younger sister (Hina Izumi, played by Riho Takada-chan) is worried about him, so we know he's a good older brother, but, I think he's actually more of a troublesome brother, which is why his sister is so strong (laugh). I'm looking forward to finding out what kind of person Shingo is through Hina.

I'm still struggling with Ankh. The only thing I've clearly decided on, is to make him a "beloved monster." This was also brought up by Director Tasaki. Ankh's ideas and actions are pretty mischievous. One example is in episode 2, when he ate some popsicles, saying the reason was he wanted to, "Get some nourishment" (laughs). I'm sure that if I play the role without hesitating, my character will be loved by everyone. I wonder if Ankh will become more like a human by being with Eiji, or if a monster will always stay a monster…..I can't wait to see how things turn out.

Before we started filming, we had 2 rehearsals, but for the first one, time went by and I wasn't really grasping anything……I was certain that everyone was worried and wondering, "Is this guy gonna be okay?" I was so frustrated, that I would watch anime that reminded me of Ankh, I just couldn't stop thinking about him. I began to think that there was more to him than just being a right hand, and that there was a "heart" to him. Then, at the second rehearsal, I was able to get into being Ankh. The Director actually told me, "You're overdoing it" (laughs), but, those words helped me to get rid of any doubts, and I began to understand the "balance" of being Ankh.

-Creating Ankh together-

I'd like to draw your attention to the craftsmanship of Ankh's arm. It's been finely crafted down to the smallest details, and is very beautiful. It made me wonder how great it'd be to design the whole body. I can't tell you what material it's made of, as it's a trade secret (laughs), but, it's so light that I no longer feel uncomfortable wearing it. The index and middle fingers are my own fingers sticking through, so I can make detailed movements.

I've learned alot from Eitoku-san (Suit Actor), who moves Ankh's arm. Even though only his arm is shown in the show, he uses his whole body to express himself to the fullest. Just when I was thinking that I didn't want to be outdone, I had a very happy experience. The scene in the first episode where Ankh possesses Shingo was expressed through my own arm…..When I performed the moment when Ankh enters his arm and takes over, the camera man called Eitoku-san over and said, "Eitoku, this is how the acting should be done." The person who was filming was able to understand my performance. It made me incredibly happy. It made me think, "I can really do it as Ankh!" Through Eitoku-san and Ankh, I'm learning the importance of expressing my thoughts and feelings from the tips of my fingers, toes, and head.

The Director, makeup artists, costume designers, lighting crew……all of their hard work has been positive, and has helped me with becoming Ankh. I'd like to express myself as much as I can so that you can see it in a better way.

As of now, many of the actors are younger than me, but in the past, I'm often the youngest on set. I'd like to view this from the perspective of an older brother…….I want to, but it's abit difficult (laughs). The teen cast members are all so strong, that they often end up helping me out.

I think that (Watanabe) Shu is "free" in a good way. He says things like, "I want to express it in this way," without hesitation. In this world, people tend to hold back by saying, "I can't do this," or, "I can only do this much," but Shu doesn't have such an attitude. That's why I feel good and at ease when we're together. His presence in my life has grown so much, that I feel like we've already been together for a year. The only thing I wish he'd stop talking about, is his favorite manga. Every day when he comes to the set, he asks me, "Miura-kun, have you read this one?" I'm not really into reading manga, so one of my favorite things to say right now is, "Will I last a year….?" (laughs).

I'm grateful for being on such a set where we can have such innocent conversations. I'd like to build a relationship with Shu and all the cast members, so that we can motivate and support each other even during the hardest shoots. I'd like to work with everyone to grow not only within the work, but myself over the next year.

-Miura Ryosuke's Body-

Head: I'm someone that wants to have "fun." I want to take things in a fun direction, and for people to think, "He's smart." I don't want to show my efforts behind the scenes.

Eyes: I may have a hard time looking at people and other things. But, the feeling of taking in everything is always there. Because by doing so, I'll encounter something that'll move my heart.

Mouth: I like talking, but I'm not good at it. I'm often asked, "What was that last part?," because I tend to get carried away and say things too quickly…..

Nose: Like laundry fresh out of the dryer, I like scents that give off a warm feeling (laughs). Sleeping on them is ideal. Floral fabric softeners are the best.

Mind: I've always been stubborn, and I'm very consistent when it comes to my way of thinking. In order for people to understand that, I have to be firm with myself first.

Foot: I'm not slow, but I don't think I'm fast either. I do like to exercise and dance, and I like to just move my body. I'd be happy if I can make use of that in my action scenes.

Ear: I have really good ears. Even when I'm talking to someone, I can hear the conversations of those next to me, and I'll get angry and say, "What'd you say?!" (laughs).

OOO: This is the "start" for me. I'm confident that what I learn here will remain with me for the rest of my life, so I want to make this an important first step for me.

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dragons-and-handcuffs · 6 months

Note

(Sorry this was longer than I expected lol)

Rhaenyra is forced to betroth her eldest child and heir, her Strong!Daughter, to Aemond after the family visit King’s Landing for a feast…

Strong!Daughter had a crush on her uncle and was always extremely shy around him despite Viserys betrothing them. She was so upset when Rhaenyra moved her family to Dragonstone, away from her uncle. And no one cried more than her after the Driftmark incident which led to her brief betrothal to him being broken.

Aemond always wanted her too. He viewed her as his right as the rider of the biggest dragon in the world. He was a true Targaryen prince, how dare Rhaenyra deny him her bastard daughter?

So to Aemond’s pleasant surprise, his niece visits him crying pleading for his forgiveness over his eye, begging him to tell her why he never returned her letters (he didn’t get them, Daemon intercepted them). He’s confused but uses it to his advantage. He demands she prove how much she wants his forgiveness.

By giving him her virginity.

She agrees, she always planned on saving herself for him but feels uneasy about it not being on their wedding night as she imagined but she’s desperate.

Aemond is not gentle. She feels as though her pussy is being split in half on his cock as he harshly thrusts in and out of her. He pulls on a handful of her curly brown hair and forces her to say she’s “nothing but a bastard whore” for him, how she was made to be bred by him.

The next morning while she’s still sleeping, Aemond presents the bloody bedsheets to Rhaenyra and Alicent.

Forcing Rhaenyra to marry her heir to Aemond to protect her…

This is so beautiful. I love it

Imagine Aemond always calling her "bastard whore" behind close doors but outside he calls her "my wife' or "my lovely wife." He always fucks her roughly and reader never complains. She has completely given herself to Aemond and always sticks by him no matter what. Aemond considers her his property. And whenever be gets the chance he rubs it on the face of the Blacks that their heir is made to carry his children.

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kckt88 · 5 months

Text

Drowning Inside You II

Summary:

Aemond and Valaera settle into life as married couple and Valaera's heat arrives earlier than expected.

-Features an Aemond POV.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

Warning(s): Mini Time Skip, Inner thoughts, Language, Kissing, Smut, Heat/Rut Cycle, P in V, Breeding Kink, Knotting, Mild Angst, Possessive Behaviour.

Word Count: 4620

Author Note: An Alpha/Omega Story.

Inspired by the song Call My Name by EMO + Yolo.

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.

Ever since Valaera had taken his eye that night on Driftmark, Aemond had envisioned the various ways in which he would exact his revenge against Valaera Velaryon.

Maimed, half blind and now the rider of the largest dragon in the world.

For years he’d hated her, even thinking about Valaera would send Aemond into a rage of epic proportions.

He would spend hours in the training yard, sparring with Ser Criston or deliberately starting fights with other Alpha’s.

His only reprieve from it all was Vhagar.

She was far too large to be housed inside the dragon pit, so she had taken to resting in an outcropping of caves beyond the Red Keep.

His old girl didn’t fit in anywhere and neither did he.

Even before he lost his eye, he never felt part of anything, his older brother was a massive twat, and his sweet sister was far too invested in her bugs too notice anything else. Even his younger brother Daeron was a stranger to him.

His older brother was rather fond of making Aemond suffer through his awful practical jokes, and relentless teasing. Even more so when their ‘strong’ nephew would join in.

Behold the Pink Dread.

Valaera was the only one to apologise for the pig, offering her uncle some lemon cakes she’d managed to steal from the kitchens.

After Driftmark, Aemond devoted himself to his studies and training. Becoming the perfect second son, even as Aegon would squander every opportunity that was given to him.

Before his presentation as an Omega, Aegon would spend his days drunk and cock deep in some whore on the streets of silk.

Yet all that stopped when he was given in marriage to Jacaerys Velaryon. Aemond had to admit he thoroughly enjoyed the look of horror on Aegon’s face when their father announced their union.

Yet his brother for all his desire to flee Kings Landing on the back of Sunfyre remained and married his strong bastard, with the pair of them becoming so happy it would make Aemond’s stomach turn.

Since she cost him his eye, Valaera would avoid Aemond like the plague. Always fleeing the room whenever Aemond entered or hiding behind her mother’s skirts.

Which suited Aemond just fine, the less time he spent in the company of Valaera the better. Yet as he got older, he realised it wasn’t just hate that he felt for Valaera. It was something far deeper. Rooted in his very core.

At first, he was unsure what it was.

But as Valaera got older and presented as an Omega, one sniff of Valaera’s sweet scent and that was it.

Aemond knew it was no longer hate that was driving him. It was desire.

As his niece grew from a plain faced pup into a stunningly beautiful pearl. Aemond knew he was done for.

Countless nights he would imagine the pretty noises his niece would make as he took her to bed and ravished her with his tongue, his fingers, and his cock.

Valaera always had this way of looking at him and it would drive him to the brink of insanity.

Those beautiful brown doe eyes, so innocent. So perfect.

Aemond would strip his cock raw every night as he fucked his fist, to the thought of Valaera.

Of course, the girl was still terrified of him and while part of him still rather enjoyed it, another was so desperate to have the Omega that he would do anything.

Aemond knew that suitors would soon come to Kings Landing in their droves to beg for the hand of Driftmark's heir.

The pearl of the realm, given in marriage to some unworthy dog.

No, he wouldn’t allow it. Valaera had left her mark on him when she'd carved out his eye and Aemond would ensure that the Omega would belong to him and no other.

It was easy enough to convince his father. After all, Aegon’s marriage to Jacaerys had been successful. The two of them had already been blessed with one pup and Aegon was currently expecting their next.

His mother however was more resistant to the match and Aemond prayed every night to the seven that his father would remain steadfast in his decision.

Luckily the gods answered his prayers and now Valaera Velaryon belonged to him.

Bound for life.

Aemond thought nothing could top the sight of Valaera at their wedding.

Oh, how wrong he was.

The sight of his sweet Omega laid bare before him, begging to be bred would remain with Aemond far beyond his death.

He could feel his cock going stiff at the thought of fucking Valaera again.

But that would have to wait, as Criston’s morningstar came flying towards him. The shield in his hand shattered upon impact. Discarding the splinted wood, Aemond expertly dodged the repeated attacks and soon his sword was pointed at the Kings guard’s throat.

“Well done my Prince. You’ll be winning tourneys in no time”.

“I don’t give a shit about tourney’s” replied Aemond as he spun the long sword in his hand and cast his eyes to the sky, watching two dragons race each other.

Aemond smiled when he heard his Omega’s gleeful laughter, as her dragon Arrax nimbly darted around Vermax and shot off into the clouds.

In the weeks since her wedding to Aemond, Valaera had come to realise that being married to him wasn't as bad as she thought it would be.

In public he was stoic and quiet, always standing with his arms folded behind his back, his posture rigid and firm yet in private he was passionate and unyielding. He was a giving lover in the marriage bed and he would often seek her touch during the night, ensconcing her in his arms, making her feel safe.

On this particular day, Aemond was training as usual so Valaera decided to visit the library, there were so many books that she wished to read before her next name day.

Aegon of course had previously made fun of her calling her a 'bookworm' and then stated that her and Aemond were perfect for one another as he loved books too, what Aegon didn't know was that sometimes Aemond would join Valaera in the library and he would fuck her against one of the bookcases and not much reading would be done on those occasions.

During her reverie Valaera began to notice that the walk back to her chambers felt peculiar. The latent arousal swirling inside her as she thought of her Alpha felt different, but in a really familiar way strangely enough. Her breath suddenly became more laboured, and a tingling sensation appeared inside her.

The empty feeling in the pit of her stomach becoming more pronounced.

Surely this couldn’t be her. Oh no. The Maesters had always been accurate about her heats. She wasn’t expecting it for another few weeks.

But something was off, extremely off, because soon she felt her legs start to shake with every step she took, and she was practically hyperventilating.

The closer she got to the chambers she shared with Aemond, everything started to blur, even the light, it was so bright that she had to shut her eyes, it made her stop in her tracks and lean against the wall.

The arousal she previously felt in her abdomen had now turned into excruciating pain. Valaera could smell almost every single Alpha in the Red Keep, but the scent of HER Alpha overpowered them all, she needed him.

Oh, gods she needed him so much, she felt so empty, she needed his knot, she needed his seed, she needed to be filled with her Alpha.

Slick started running down her legs, she was so wet, and her clothes felt so constricting, she needed to get them off before she was suffocated.

“Princess. Are you alright, shall I alert your mother?” asked a guard, he was sweating profusely, his scent was making Valaera feel sick, his voice was too loud, and he was too close to her. She wanted to run away, she wanted to run to Aemond, but her legs were completely useless.

The tears began running down her cheeks, she was getting desperate.

Alpha. Please. I need you. I’m frightened. Where are You?

Then she heard a loud growl. Her Alpha’s growl.

Yes! Yes! Her Alpha had come for her! Her Alpha had come to finally breed her!

Valaera’s inner Omega let out a loud cry, practically a scream as she heard the growl, eager to reunite with her Alpha.

“Get. Away. From MY OMEGA” snarled Aemond his voice was deep, low, and dangerous, his scent dark and violent.

He sized up the guard with his remaining eye, growling once again. The guard growled back at first but quickly retreated once the full force of Aemond’s Alpha pheromones permeated through the air.

Aemond turned his attention to Valaera, throwing himself at his whimpering Omega. He put his arms under Valaera’s legs and back, lifted her up and began to carry her toward their chambers.

Valaera swung her arms around Aemond and buried her face in his neck. She began to desperately kiss and suck on Aemond’s throat, she couldn’t help himself, she needed to get closer to her Alpha’s fucking intoxicating scent.

Both of them were a sweaty mess by the time they reached their chambers. Valaera couldn’t keep her hands off of Aemond, nor could she stop scenting and sucking on the mating mark on his neck.

Aemond nuzzled her neck affectionately, then he reached down and grabbed Valaera’s behind, squeezing it hard. His Omega responded by moaning loudly before unlacing his breeches and shoving her hand inside to fondle his cock, which had grown rock hard. Valaera needed it deep inside her now or she would explode.

Aemond grabbed her jaw and turned her face upwards so he could reach her mouth. The Alpha’s tongue felt so good in her mouth, she had to moan once again, this time into Aemond’s mouth, making him grunt loudly in response while still kissing her.

They fell backwards together, landing on the bed, never once breaking their kiss.

Aemond was a grunting mess, almost whimpering every time Valaera’s tongue swirled around his. Their clothes were a hinderance, and they needed to get them off.

So that they could feel each other properly. Aemond hooked his fingers into the seams of Valaera’s dress and ripped it from her body, buttons and fabric flew everywhere.

Aemond’s breeches were the next victim, shredded to pieces as he clawed at them, his tunic was also ripped from his body, the tattered threads landing somewhere on the floor after he discarded them.

Valaera’s eyes rolled back into her head as she felt her Alpha’s naked body against her own.

Aemond’s pheromones burned brighter as his mouth dove into her scent gland, sucking eagerly while scraping his teeth against the mark he’d previously left on her skin. Valaera was absolutely crazed by the movement.

“My Omega. your scent. It’s so fucking amazing” whispered Aemond, whilst inhaling his wife’s unique scent.

“Take me Alpha, breed me, your Omega needs your seed” begged Valaera.

Tears of joy were rolling down her face, so fucking happy that her Alpha would finally fill the aching emptiness in her abdomen.

Aemond grunted loudly in response and reached down to align his huge cock with Valaera’s dripping wet hole, instantly pushing inside, making them both moan in sync as his hard and pulsing cock found Valaera’s warm, wet heat.

The Alpha thrust his cock into Valaera at a relentless pace almost immediately, giving Valaera no time to adjust to his size.

Valaera wrapped her legs around Aemond’s waist and squeezed as tightly as she could, she needed to be fucked again and again, she needed her Alpha to pump her full of his seed and put a pup inside of her.

Her Alpha fucked her hard and fast, his hips pounding against hers. The sound of skin slapping together echoed around the chambers.

Aemond gave a loud grunt and stilled, throwing his head back while squeezing his eye shut, giving Valaera exactly what she wanted.

Rope after roped of his seed spilled inside his Omega, which made Valaera scream in joy and throw her own head back, as she reached her peak, clenching around her Alpha’s pulsating cock.

It didn’t stop there, Aemond only needed a few moments of rest before growing hard inside of his Omega again.

As Valaera’s legs relaxed and let go of her hold on Aemond, he moved backwards and raised himself to his knees between Valaera’s legs.

The loss of her Alpha inside her made Valaera whimper as the ache quickly returned.

Please. Alpha. I need you. Don’t stop. Don’t leave me.

“Roll over” ordered Aemond. It was a command, an Alpha command, and Valaera whimpered as she felt it take control of her body, she had to obey, she had to please her Alpha.

She was now on all fours in front of him, ready to be mounted again. Her heat sent out new waves of scent and slick, which made Aemond almost stagger. He pushed his cock into the whimpering Omega once more with shaky hands and proceeded to pound her even harder and quicker than before, snapping his hips against her while grunting loudly, driving needy moans out of Valaera.

Aemond was gripping her hips so hard that his nails were digging into her skin, leaving marks everywhere, the pain drove Valaera wild with need and she needed to feel more of it.

Almost as if he could sense what she needed, Aemond reached forward and grabbed Valaera’s hair, making her head shoot back. Valaera cried out to her Alpha in pleasure, making Aemond growl.

His knot started to slowly push inside Valaera, and she let out a feral cry as the knot made its way deeper and deeper inside of her. It swelled up so much, it hurt, it hurt so good.

“I will have you dripping with my seed my sweet Omega. I can’t wait to see you swell with my pup, everyone will know your mine-“ moaned Aemond.

Aemond thrust one, two, three more times before growling once again, shooting his seed deep inside Valaera, filling her up. He grunted out Valaera’s name chasing the pleasure of his own peak. He then let out a deep, satisfied breath before collapsing onto his Omega.

Aemond moved his face to Valaera’s neck again, and lovingly nuzzled her.

Valaera was trembling next to him, trying to catch her own breath. The throes of her heat satisfied for now.

But soon it would take hold of her again, her body constantly craving the touch of her Alpha.

For the next three days, she was fucked senseless by Aemond. Everything falling by the wayside as the Alpha took care of his Omega.

After her heat had ended, it took a solid day for both of them to fully recover. They were completely exhausted yet completely satisfied beyond all comprehension.

If Aemond clenched his jaw any harder, his teeth would shatter.

His Omega was stood talking to Alyn of Hull and Aemond hated every single second of it.

I swear if he leans any closer to Valaera. I’ll slit his throat. I’ll tear him limb from limb.

The Alpha inside him was growling, the desire to protect Valaera was overwhelming his senses.

“Brother, you need to relax”.

“I will relax when I remove that Beta cunts fucking head from his shoulders” snarled Aemond.

“He’s only talking to Valaera” sighed Aegon as he gently rocked his newborn pup in his arms.

“I don’t like him leaning close to Valaera like that” muttered Aemond awkwardly.

I don’t like how he looks at Valaera. I don’t like how he smiles at her.

His Alpha was screaming inside his head. Protect. Protect. Protect.

“Alpha instinct, I get it. But in all seriousness, you need to stop lurking in the corner and join the celebration” replied Aegon.

“I need to…Keep an eye on Valaera”.

“No. You need to hold your niece whilst I get some wine” retorted Aegon as he placed his daughter in Aemond’s arms and reached for the nearest pitcher of some ghastly coloured wine that Aemond had always thought looked a little bit like piss.

Probably tastes like it too.

Whilst Aegon was busying himself with the wine. Aemond looked down at his sleeping niece and smiled. She was such a perfect little thing. Whilst her features bore a strong resemblance to Jacaerys, her head was graced with a tiny tuft of silver hair. Yet her older brother Jaehaerys was dark haired and looked more like Aegon.

Aemond wondered what his children would look like. Would they have his silver hair or would they have his Omega’s dark curly locks.

He had thought he would like to have a son first, but as he held his niece, Aemond knew he wouldn’t mind a daughter. A little girl who would sleep on his chest as he read to her, a little girl who would cling to him as he took her on flights with Vhagar. A little girl who he would hold in his heart forever.

Suddenly Aemond was snapped out of his reverie by Maela shrieking loudly.

“She can’t be hungry again” groused Aegon.

“Well, whatever she needs. Only her mother can provide” replied Aemond as he handed Maela to Aegon and returned his attention to Valaera who was still talking to Alyn.

“You’re going to burn a hole in Alyn’s head if you carry on looking at him like that” muttered Jace as he wrapped an arm around Aegon who was busy trying to sooth their daughter.

“I will look however I please” snarled Aemond.

“Oh, for the love of-“ groaned Jace as he spotted Alyn gently placing a hand on Valaera’s arm.

“Aemond. Don’t even think about it” warned Aegon as Jace quickly manoeuvred him and Maela away from Aemond.

HE DARES TO TOUCH WHAT IS MINE!!

Aegon’s warning fell on deaf ears, as Aemond charged across the throne room and viciously shoved Alyn away from Valaera.

“Aemond-What” squeaked Valaera in surprise.

“Don’t ever presume to touch my Omega again” snapped Aemond.

“I-I wasn’t. I-I didn’t mean too” stuttered Alyn.

“Alpha please. You’re making a scene” whispered Valaera.

“I think you need to go and cool off brother” urged Aegon.

“Fuck off Aegon”

“Hey. Don’t speak to my mate like that. We are supposed to be celebrating my daughter’s birth and your ruining it” snapped Jace.

“Fine” retorted Aemond as he turned on his heel and stormed out of the throne room, completely ignoring his mother’s concerned calls.

“I better go after him” muttered Valaera sheepishly.

Stupid Beta thinking he can touch my Omega. Who does he think he is. I should go back in there and…

“Aemond. Wait”.

“What’s with the touching. Why was he touching you?” growled Aemond as he abruptly stopped in the middle of the corridor.

“I felt a little faint and Alyn was just helping me” muttered Valaera as she collided with Aemond.

“Why what’s happened. Do you need a maester?” asked Aemond his anger over Alyn overridden by his concern for Valaera.

“No, I don’t need a maester” replied Valaera.

“Are you sure. If you’re sick, then mayhaps we should get you checked over just to be sure”.

Oh, I knew something was wrong. Valaera’s scent has been different these last few days.

“I’m not sick. Well, I am but…”

I knew it. Something’s wrong. We’ve only been married a few months. I know can’t live without her. I need her to be ok.

“Tell me please Issa dōna omega” murmured Aemond (My sweet omega).

“Alpha. Nyke rūsīr riñnykeā” (I am with child).

“T-Truly” gasped Aemond.

“It might have happened during my heat, but yes, my love. Nyke carry mirrī zaldrīzes iemnȳ hen issa” (I carry a little dragon inside of me).

“My Valaera. My sweet” whispered Aemond as he cupped Valaera’s face in his hands and placed a gentle kiss upon his Omega’s lips.

“A little piece of you and me. Together” mouthed Valaera as she took one of Aemond’s hands and lowered it to her stomach.

She was with child. His Omega was carrying his pup. He was going to be a father.

“Thank you, Issa prūmia” (My heart).

“I guess your possessiveness makes sense now” said Valaera as she wrapped her arms around Aemond and held him close.

Yes, it did. The need to protect Valaera. The urge to be close. It all made sense now. His Alpha was roaring his delight at impregnating his beautiful Omega.

“I was merely acting on instinct”.

I cannot wait until Valaera’s belly starts swelling. Everyone will see. They will all know who’s babe dwells within. His sweet Valaera all round and soft. Breasts swollen with milk. The thought was very pleasing.

So, pleasing in fact that Aemond could feel himself growing hard in his breeches.

“Please. Alpha” whined Valaera sensing his arousal as she stood on her tip toes and pressed a series of desperate kisses to Aemond’s lips.

“Hm” growled Aemond.

“T-Take me. Please. I need you” begged Valaera.

Aemond didn’t need telling twice. He took his Omega’s hand, and they made their way back to their chambers with every intention of having their own celebration that would end up lasting well into the hours of the night.

As dawn broke, Valaera was far to satisfied and exhausted to even think of leaving the bed. Sharing their good news with the rest of the family would have to wait, until Valaera was sure she could actually walk.

“Drakari pykiros, Tīkummo jemiros, Yn lantyz bartossa, Saelot vāedis” (Fire breather, winged leader, but two heads, to a third sing).

Valaera closed his eyes at the sound of Aemond’s voice.

“Perzyro udrȳssi, Ezīmptos laehossi, Hārossa letagon, Aōt vāedan” (With words of flame, with clear eyes, to bind the three, to you I sing).

Valaera smiled as he felt Aemond rest his head on the round swell of his stomach.

“Hae mērot gierūli:, Se hāros bartossi, Prūmȳsa sōvīli, Gevī dāerī” (As one we gather, and with three heads, we shall fly as we were destined, beautifully, freely).

Ever since Valaera revealed she was carrying his child, Aemond had devoted himself to pouring over countless books in the library to gain as much information as he could about pregnancy and how to raise a pup. Apparently, he also found a book that said babes can hear sounds from the womb after the sixth moon of pregnancy. So, Aemond never missed a chance to spend time talking or singing to his stomach.

Valaera of course didn’t think too much of it at first, but as her stomach began to swell, and the babe began to kick, she noticed that he or she would always move around more whenever Aemond spoke.

Aemond of course was delighted when Valaera told him. She knew her Alpha was worried about becoming a father, given the fact his own wasn’t a very good one and it terrified Aemond most days, that he would turn out like Viserys.

But Valaera new deep down that Aemond would be a fantastic father, he was utterly devoted to their unborn pup.

“What do you think of the name Rhaegar” muttered Aemond.

“I like it” whispered Valaera.

“But…”

“I l-love you and if we have a son, I wish to honour you in some way, so I was thinking about Vhalarr” asked Valaera nervously twisting the bedsheets between her fingers.

“In honour of my dragon?”

Oh, he hates it. Such a stupid idea. Why did I have to say that? I’m such a fool.

Suddenly Valaera burst into tears.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Valaera. Laera, Talk to me my sweet” whispered Aemond as he moved up the bed and took the sobbing Omega into his arms.

“Y-You hate the name I chose and I-I j-just thought it would b-be nice to h-have an o-original name,” cried Valaera.

“I don’t hate it. I’m truly honoured that you wish to name our pup after my old girl”.

“I-I know how much Vhagar means to you and I just-“ squeaked Valaera as she buried her face into Aemond’s chest.

“Issa jorrāelagon, kostilus ȳdra daor cry” muttered Aemond as he ran his fingers through Valaera’s long dark curls (My love, please don’t cry).

“I-I’m s-sorry. I-I c-can’t help it” sniffed Valaera as she wiped his nose on the sleeve of her robe.

Alpha is here. He will comfort me. He will make everything better.

“Avy jorrāelan sīr olvie Aemond” (I love you so much).

“I love you too Issa dōna” (my sweet).

“S-So you like the name?” asked Valaera, her voice still slightly muffled.

“I do and if we have a son, I will stand proud as he’s given the name his Muña chose” whispered Aemond as he gently lifts Valaera’s face from his chest and places a gentle kiss on her forehead (Mother).

“I-I’m sorry for crying. I just feel so emotional lately”.

“It’s fine. Your carrying our pup” replied Aemond as he rubbed Valaera’s stomach.

“T-Thank you for being so understanding” sniffed Valaera.

Aemond simply smiled and held Valaera tighter. He knew Valaera had been feeling overwhelmed lately with all of the changes her body was going through and as an Alpha he had a duty to soothe and protect his mate, during her delicate time.

After Valaera had fallen asleep, Aemond took the time to admire his Omega’s features. The long dark silky curls, the pale Targaryen skin, her perfectly shaped plump lips. The dark eyes. He once scorned Valaera for her ‘strong’ yet entirely coincidental resemblance to the former commander of the city watch, yet in truth she was wholly unique, in the sea of silver and amethyst.

As he closed his eye, Aemond knew with absolute certainty that he was where he was meant to be.

“A-Aemond. Valzȳrys” whispered Valaera as she gently shook his sleeping Alpha (Husband).

“Hm”

“Aemond. Wake up” urged Valaera.

“Valaera” grumbled Aemond as he began to rouse from his slumber.

“I can’t sleep”.

“Is everything ok? Is it the pup?” exclaimed Aemond as he shot up in alarm.

“The pup is fine. I-I need…Honey cakes”.

“Cake? You’ve woke me up because of cake?” asked Aemond rubbing his eye.

“I can’t stop thinking about it” muttered Valaera.

“Can’t you just wait until morning?” grumbled Aemond.

“No. I can’t sleep because I’m hungry and I keep thinking about cake”.

“Is this like the time you couldn’t stop thinking about pears” mused Aemond.

“That was weeks ago. But yes, it’s exactly the same. I-I can’t help it”.

Aemond sighed and got out of bed. Praying to the seven that the kitchens had some honey cakes left over.

“Avy jorrāelan issa zaldrīzes” (I love you my dragon).

“I’m sure you do Issa prūmia” replied Aemond as he quickly pulled on his breeches and a loose tunic. (My heart).

“Kirimvose” (Thank you).

“Hm” muttered Aemond as he gave Valaera a quick kiss and left their shared chambers.

The Red Keep was eerily silent as Aemond wandered through the corridors towards the kitchens. No doubt the nighttime appearance of a Prince in the kitchens would give the maids something to gossip about for the next few days.

I should be asleep. Yet here I am trawling through the Red Keep in search of Honey Cakes for my Omega.

Aemond Targaryen rider of the mighty Vhagar the last living remnant of Aegon's conquest, reduced to a simple errand boy.

Last time it was pears, this time it’s honey cakes. Whatever next?

This is the last time. I’m being serious. If she wants pears or cakes then next time- Oh, who am I kidding, I will get my sweet Omega anything she wants, whatever it takes to make her happy, anything to see that sweet smile.

Luckily Aemond’s journey to the kitchens was rather uneventful, even if the cook did give him a strange look as she handed over a basket of honey cakes.

Back in his chambers, Aemond quickly decided that it had all been worth it. To see Valaera happily eating her beloved honey cakes made his Alpha pleased that he was taking care of his mate and their unborn pup.

“Right. Now that you’ve got your cakes. I’m going back to bed” exclaimed Aemond as he tugged off his tunic and breeches.

“Well, actually there was something else-“ whispered Valaera as she wiped cake crumbs from around her mouth.

“Oh no what” huffed Aemond momentarily horrified.

However, his horror was rather short lived as his Omega began pulling off her shift.

“I-I desire the touch of my husband”.

“Is-Is that right?” growled Aemond.

“Please Alpha, I want your knot” begged Valaera as she wrapped her arms around her Alpha’s neck and kissed him. Letting out a small moan as she slid her tongue into Aemond’s mouth.

Aemond smirked as he backed his Omega towards the bed.

A good Alpha should always take care of their Omega.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x oc #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond x original female character #aegon ii targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #prince aemond #aemond #aemond smut #aemond one eye #hotd fic #hotd smut #alpha omega

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assortedseaglass · 8 months

Text

Lacnunga, or, Remedy

Osferth x Reader

Request: i would love to request something for our dear baby monk. maybe reader is a healer and takes care of his wounds and everyone sees that there's something between them but both osferth and reader are too shy to act on it and continue dancing around each other. until that one day when he saves her from drowning or some danes (please pick whatever you're comfortable with) and he realizes he nearly lost her without telling her what he feels and kisses her right there.

I’m so sorry – I lost who requested this!

[Masterlist]

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: One use of bad language. Other than that, none. It’s Osferth.

The thundering of hooves tore apart the dark night’s silence, and your hand instinctively moved to grip the shoulder of the small boy before you. He looked up. Slowly, not daring to breathe, you brought your finger to your lips. He nodded and inched a little closer to your skirts.

Wintancaester had been on edge since the very word that men of Northumbria had ridden through Mercia, terror left in their wake, and were descending on Wessex’ borders. The King had dispatched Uhtred and his band of warriors to investigate the oncoming horde, but that was weeks ago and no news had come. Nor had the men returned.

The ensuing days were those of dread, the nights full of visions. Bells rang from inside the castle gates at the merest approach of anyone on horseback, sending the city scattering into their dwellings. So why, this night, were the bells silent?

The lad at your knee tugged your skirt.

“Stay close,” you whispered, heart racing beneath your breast. The hooves were growing louder, so much that you felt the very ground beneath your feet tremble. As the racket neared, the little boy held your legs tighter. It was not until they had passed, their canter quietening, that he let go.

“Come,” you edged to the door of your home, beckoning the child. You opened the wooden it a crack. You could not see the men. Across the way, a few people were peering from their homes, the boy’s mother included. “Straight to your mother now. Run and don’t look back. Go!”

He ran as quickly as his little legs could take him and you shut the door as swiftly and silently as possible. Hand at your chest, you listened. If they caught him, surely you would hear. You tried not to imagine his poor cries as they wrenched him away. The face of his mother when she confronted you. Why didn’t you keep him safe? And still the bells didn’t ring. What if the northmen had already taken the castle, unbeknownst to its subjects beyond its walls?

Silence.

The horses' hooves were running no more. There were no cries from neighbouring dwellings. The bells didn’t ring. Perhaps it was just someone passing through. Maybe the poor soul on watch had fallen asleep. The hour was late after all.

You were just relaxing against the wood of the door, your heart rate slowly returning to normal as it pounded in your ears, when the door jolted.

BANG BANG BANG

Your body jumped with the movement of it. A trap. A rouse of silence to trick unsuspecting victims. Tears pricked at your eyes as you held the door with your hands. If you were to die at the hand of some Northumbrian brute, then you would die fighting.

BANG BANG BANG

“Lady! It’s them!”

Whatever strength you mustered to fight the northmen left as quickly as it had arrived.

“They’re back! Come and see! Lady?”

“Caen?” You opened the door. There he was, small and jumping up and down. Behind him, a few paces off, his mother smiled at his antics, her hands on her hips. “What do you me-”

“Uhtred!” Without another word, and seemingly embarrassed at your slowness, he darted along the grassy path towards the stables. Four horses, three dark and one white, were drinking heavily from a trough. Their riders, each tall and strong like their mounts, worked to remove their saddles.

You watched as Caen bounded towards them. They had yet to spot him, small as he was, and instead each man chatted to another.

“Come,” it was Caen’s mother. “Quite the fright they gave us. At least we have visitors, and handsome ones at that, to settle our spirits.” Laughing, she took your arm in hers and led you towards the group.

“A fright indeed,” you muttered, your heart still beating its violent tattoo. Up ahead, Caen was nearing the band of men.

“Uhtred!” He cried and, when the man turned, the small boy all but flung himself into the warrior’s arms.

“My, my, look at you! You have grown taller and stronger since last I saw you. It won’t be long until can wield a sword yourself-”

“I’ll not have you encouraging him, Lord.” Caen’s mother said, her voice firm.

“Ma says that I will be just as able to help the kingdom with my learning. And she’s started teaching me about the plants!” Caen pointed at you.

“She!?” Caen shrunk at his mother’s words, correcting himself by using your name.

“You can never have too many healing hands,” the man beside Uhtred said. His head was bowed a little, eyes peering over the furs he wore to keep warm but even in the dark night, you could see the alertness of their blue. He watched you gently. Something about the small smile playing at the corners of his lips stirred your stomach.

“Osferth,” you said quietly.

“Lady,”

“Can never have too many healing hands indeed!” The burlier of Uhtred’s men winked and gave Osferth’s shoulder a shove.

“Finan,” you said, and he nodded with a smile. “I take it you aren’t in need of healing.”

“She says that when people make a fuss they don’t need so much help,” little Caen spoke up. “It’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for.”

Your eyes flicker to Osferth.

“Caen!”

“Sorry, Lady.” He eyed you a little but smiled cheekily all the same. Finan ruffled his hair and Caen giggled, swatting his hand away. In the lightness of the moment, you almost forgot that these men had been on the road for weeks and potentially battled their way home.

“Are you alright?” You addressed the gathered troupe, casting an eye over each of them. “Do you need anything? Sihtric?”

“Nothing ale and a good night can’t fix, thank you.”

When you first encountered the group, it was the Dane with the shorn hair and bicoloured glower that intimidated you most. A man of few words and calculated grace, something in his manner set you on edge. It increased tenfold when you saw him wield the sword, for the movements were violent, aggressive, quick as lightning.

It was not until he came to your small home, the flesh of his cheek split like ripe fruit and bleeding, that you discovered in truth the man was considerate and still. Almost gentle. Almost.

As you tended to his skin, he asked quiet questions about the plants hung from the rafters of your home, told you of the girl he intended to marry. Spoke with near reverence of Uhtred, told tall tales of Finan and fretted over Osferth. In the years you had known the men, it was Sihtric Kjartansson who scared you the least.

Now, it was the young man between he and Uhtred that sent your heart hammering. He, with his hard face and gentle soul.

Your fear was in the knowing glances he gave to his friends, and to you, as if he knew your thoughts before they even entered your mind. It was the stillness that he invoked upon the air whenever he neared you. It was in the simmering heat that built within you each time he returned bolder, stronger, braver. It was the way he was looking at you in that moment, as though seeing you for the first time and coming home.

“Osferth?” Your voice was hoarse and you coughed. “Are you well? Do you need anything?”

Before he could speak, Sihtric cut in. “He took a blow to the back, Lady-” He reached out to show you where but Osferth brushed him away.

“’Tis nothing, only a bruise,”

“I should still like to see it,” you said quickly.

“And I can help!” Caen piped up and you smiled down at your little apprentice.

“After, perhaps.” Osferth said. “But first, would you take a look at this old thing?” He patted the flank of his mottled horse. “She took a sword to her leg. It was only a scuffle!” He added upon seeing your worried face.

“Caen, fetch the bute you collected, and a pitcher of water.” The little boy ran away at your instruction. You turned to the group at large. “You are certain I cannot help with anything else?”

“Nothing,” Uhtred said. “Other than direct us to an alehouse. One who has boarding at this hour”

“Bron will have rooms,” you pointed down the way. “And he’ll be glad to welcome you.”

The men gathered their meagre belongings and, leaving their steeds at the stable, began their tired way towards the alehouse. Osferth remained at your side, following you towards your home. Unbeknownst to the both of you, Sihtric watched your progress with a small smile, distracted only when Finan clapped him on the back and dragged him away.

Seeing it was not the northmen but Uhtred and his men, many of the townsfolk had returned to their sleepy dwellings, and the night was quiet as it had once been.

“You have been to see the King, then? They did not ring the bells when you arrived.” You asked Osferth. He walked beside you, hands clasped firmly behind his back and head bowed. You wondered for a moment if he had picked up this behaviour at the monastery, or if it were his natural proclivity for pensiveness.

“Yes. Well,” he kicked a stone from the path. “Uhtred did.”

You said no more. It had no doubt been a long and tiresome journey, Osferth surely would not want to talk of the father that didn’t acknowledge his very existence.

“Was it terrible?” You asked, pushing open the wooden door to see Caen already setting cloth and water on the table. You winked at him. “Good lad.”

“The reverse,” Osferth smiled. “By the time we arrived in Mercia, the Angles had reached the northmen first.” Caen gasped and begged Osferth tell him more. “You could not see the ground for bodies, and-” Osferth looked at you, arms folded across your chest and eyebrows raised. “-and, that was it, really.” He finished weakly.

Caen glanced between you as silence fell. “Pop your clothes off, if you please.”

“Caen,” your voice was warning.

“If you would, Lord, remove your upper layers and sit on the table.” Caen said.

“Better,” you mouthed.

Plucking comfrey and ribwort from the plants drying around your home, you took your pestle and mortar in hand and worked them into a poultice. You daredn’t look at Osferth as he undressed, and shame began to work away at you fear of him. It is just Osferth. When he spoke, however, it was impossible not to turn, for his voice caused you to jump from your thoughts and face him.

“My horse-”

“Caen will see to her,” you placed the mortar on the table, looking anywhere but his naked torso. “He has been harvesting bute today and could do with the practice.”

“I’ll look after her, Lord.”

“Osferth,” the monk corrected.

“I’ll look after her, Lord Osferth.” Caen grabbed the bute, a small bowl and a cup of water, and dashed into the night. He returned not a minute later. “Forgot the cloth.”

Osferth chuckled as you returned to mixing the poultice. “He is a fine little apprentice.”

“Yes,” you added a dash of water to the mixture. “I just hope he isn’t distracted by the sword.”

“As I was?”

Your head snapped up and there was no going back. He was looking at you, blue eyes sad, pale skin glowing in the light of the fire. “That’s different.”

Osferth hummed, and the silence resumed. Firewood and sage crackled in the hearth, and beyond your home a tawny owl called.

“Where did Sihtric say you were struck?”

“My shoulder,” Osferth tried to indicate but winced as he moved.

“Rest,” you placed a hand on his and pushed his arm away. “Let me.” Moving to stand behind him, you saw the plum bruise that spread across his shoulder blade. It was already mottled and blackening, a few days old at least. Tentatively, you reached out to touch it. Beneath your fingers his skin was warm, similar to those first spring rays of sunlight on the face. You blushed. Beneath your touch, Osferth stiffened.

He had been coming to you for years. When his ribs were bruised and cracked during his first proper skirmish. When he had broken his arm escaping from the sea. After his first few kills he came to for a remedy for night visions, his mind rattled by the sound of tearing flesh. Sometimes, he found excuses to end up at your door. Stiff necks, headaches, insomnia. Those nights were his favourite. You made him dandelion tea and offered your bed. There, as you hummed a slow tune, he would drift into a sleep full of flora and delicate touches.

“It’ll be cool, the mixture, but not cold,” you said. “The bruise is already healing well, but this will reduce the swelling and some of the pain.”

“Thank you, Lady.” He whispered.

Placing a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself, you gently began rubbing the poultice into his skin. Osferth hissed.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

Osferth shook his head. “Is it tender, that is all.”

“I can see the outline of the pommel where it hit you,”

“What a shame it didn’t bleed, would have made a handsome scar-” You saw his cheeks rise into a smile.

“Trying to be more like Finan?” Your hand moved from his shoulder blade to the valley of his spine.

“I haven’t the volume.” This made you laugh and, at hearing the bright noise, Osferth joined in, for a moment only before doubling over.

“Try not to laugh,” you said through your giggles.

On and on you rubbed the poultice into his skin until the merest slither was left in the mortar. Osferth fell into a contented silence as you worked, your mind caught far away and, simultaneously, in the intimacy of the moment.

You watched, mesmerised, as your medicine highlighted the curves and contours of his back. Even when Osferth first joined Uhtred, he was tall. But then he began to train with the others, surviving on meagre rations and growing from boy to man. His broad shoulders and lean muscle were evidence of that. Drifting from the bruise, your fingers brushed over his upper back, the broad expanse of it now golden in the firelight.

His frame was exciting to you, yes. But what you hadn’t expected, or hadn’t anticipated would stir the fire still alite in your belly, were the freckles speckling his back. The outline of his ribs as he breathed, or the base of his spine ridging his lower back. They were the evidence that he was human. Living, breathing, warm flesh and bone right there beneath your fingers. Not just some imagined being you dreamt up during the long days and nights that he was gone.

Your fingers had left the bruise fully now but you didn’t worry. Osferth couldn’t see, and you let them wander under the guise of treating his wound. When they met the juncture of his neck and shoulder, you paused before laying your hand flat against the plain of skin. The action must have been soothing, for no sooner had your hand settled there was Osferth tipping his head forward, exposing more of his strong neck to you. You squeezed the muscle and he groaned. The sound sent blood rushing from your ears to the meeting of your thighs and you squeezed your legs together.

Breathe.

With a sharp inhale and slow exhale, you relaxed your body, hands straightening on Osferth’s shoulder. Your fingers grazed the shorn hair at the back of his head and once more, Osferth sighed.

This time, though, it was not the sound of released tension. Of a knot begin worked from deep within a muscle or the stretch of the back after a long day’s work. This time, it was the sound of pleasure.

Slowly, tentatively, you curled your fingers, dragging your nails ever so lightly over his skin and running them down the length of his spine. Osferth shuddered beneath you, arching his back as you reached its base.

“Lady-” his voice was ragged. When he looked over his shoulder and whispered your name, you saw his blue irises eclipsed by black.

“Osferth-”

The door banged open.

“Horse is fixed, Lord!” Caen shouted happily as you jumped back from the table.

“You don’t ‘fix a horse’, Caen.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. The heat that was rising to your cheeks burned.

“Thank you, Caen.” Osferth smiled at the boy and hopped gracefully from the table. He dressed quickly, tucking his cross into his tunic and collecting the remainder of his possessions; breastplate, leather gauntlets, sword and furs.

“Come,” Osferth steered Caen from the door. “Let us give the good lady some peace. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you could barely speak the words as Osferth glanced at you with a solemn smile. When the door closed behind the him and your apprentice, you leant against the table, dipped the cloth in the pitcher of water and held it against your head. You looked to the ceiling.

“Thank you for sending him, Lord.” For what would have happened had Caen not burst through your door, you dared not imagine.

You did not need to leave your home next morning to know the day was a happy one. Beyond the door people were yelling freely, someone was playing a pipe and you could hear children scurrying after one another.

Getting up, you stretched broadly and felt the sunlight through your small lookout window on your face. Wandering to add logs to the fire, you paused mid-step. There, on the table, was evidence that last night you almost disgraced your honour and dignity. Osferth’s honour and dignity. He was a warrior now, brave and noble, and would surely be a Lord like his leader one day. He would not throw himself at a common healer like you. No matter how much you wished it.

Once again, your musings were broken by the banging open of the door.

“What have I told you about knocking, little master!?”

“Well if you will leave it unbolted,” Caen waggled his finger at you. “Are we going hunting today, Lady?” ‘Hunting’ was what the young boy called foraging and, since he began his lessons with you, was fondest when in the field.

“Not today I’m afraid,” you said, wrapping a woollen shawl around your shoulders. “I am in need of arrowhead- do not interrupt, Caen. I’m sorry but the river is still too dangerous for you, and the plants are not so easily discernible. What would your mother say if I had you picking hemlock instead of water parsley?”

Caen hung his head in disappointment. Then, when a little boy ran past followed by a gaggle of even younger children, Caen called a hasty goodbye to you and ran after them. Stood in the doorway, you watched as they sprang down the grassy path. It truly was a happy day.

Dew glimmered in the long grass, little beadlets of iridescence sparkling in the spring light. Birds called gaily to each other from the treetops, much like their human counterparts on the ground below. Merriment seemed the order of the day. What wonders Uhtred and his men could perform by their appearance. The city seemed to sigh in relief.

After foraging, you planned to call at the alehouse. That was if you didn’t see the men in question about the town. Despite the previous night’s distractions, Osferth’s bruise truly was a nasty specimen and though it was healing, you believed his comfort greatly affected.

That was why you found yourself, an hour later and full of freshly baked bread, treading the damp earth along the banks of the river Icene in search of ingredients. It had been your mother who taught you the properties of the world around you, given you her stolen copy of the Lacnunga and taught you to read its pages.

The daughter of a nobleman, she was a fearsome and bright woman. Known for her learning and curiosity, she was beloved by all he knew her. Or so your father said. In the end, it was her curiosity that led to you. Foraging on the banks of that very river, she met a young fletcher gathering reeds for arrow tails. A month later, she married him. Cast out for loving a commoner, she took naught with her from her old life but for the clothes on her back, an embroidered sheet of damask and the stolen Lacnunga from the physic.

It was she who had taught you about the medicinal powers of the river plants, and of their terrifying toxins. Smiling as you meandered through the grass, thinking of your lost parents, and reciting the nine herb charm.

“Mugwyrt, una, wegrade, atterlothe, maethe, wergulu, apple, fille, finule. Mugwyrt, una-”

It was not those that you sought, but arrowhead. That bright, dart-shaped leaf which sprang from the water surrounded by delicate white leaves. Pressed in a sling against his shoulder or massaged in a poultice-you shook the thought from you head-it would surely aid Osferth’s discomfort.

There. Nestled amongst water-crowfoot and starwort, arrowhead leaves dazzled green in the murky water where the chalky river met the farmland of the city. There was just one problem. It was on the opposite bank.

There was nothing for it. Removing the wicker basket from your shoulder and setting it on the ground, you took off your worn boots and woollen socks, stowing them with the still warm bread you brought for your lunch. You looked left and right. No-one. Taking your skirts in hand, you tucked them into your leather belt and proceeded to a worn patch of scrub. An otter’s slipway.

A gravel bank rose at the centre of the river. Here, it was shallow and slow moving, but it was not the current you feared, but the cold. The sun shone in spring but the water retained its chilly bite. You would make for the gravel and assess the route to the arrowhead from there.

Slowly so as not to slip on the muddy ground, you stepped into the water.

“Fuck!”

Needles of cold shot through your legs as they entered the river and your toes curled instinctively under foot, seeking any warmth they could find. You stood there awhile, acclimatising to the water, or waiting until they were numb from the pain, you weren’t certain which.

Eventually you pushed out into the inky green water, letting it lap at your knees until you reached the gravel bank. From there you saw the arrowhead was just a few steps from reach. A great number of the leaves waved to you as their stems were bustled by the water and taking a deep breath, you stepped back into the water.

Your lungs tightened as, without warning, you sank waist-deep in the water. Well, that was a bother.

It didn’t take long for you to find your footing amongst the river weeds and, keeping your arms above the water, you waded forwards. A few stumbles here and there didn’t matter, your body was used to the cold by now and the arrowhead leaves were in your grasp.

For a few minutes you gently plucked the leaves from their stems, careful to leave some intact for the next harvest and the few little creatures you found living in the plant’s shelter.

With a handful foraged and a poesy of watercress for good measure, you turned back for the gravel bank. Your first step was clumsy as you slipped on some slimy stones underfoot and, as your chin hit the water, you jolted backwards. Just above the riverbed some long-grown pondweed had encircled your ankle in the current, tightening its grip with every kick of your foot to free yourself.

You tried not to panic, shoving the arrowhead and cress into your bodice. Your head was just above the water; you wouldn’t drown if you kept calm. But you would freeze. Over and over you fought to free your foot but the weed wouldn’t loosen. Your only remaining hope was to kick as hard as you could to uproot the plant or break its stem. With great effort, you flung your leg out as hard as you could. It didn’t work. You lost your footing once and for all, your head finally dipping beneath the river’s surface.

You came up spluttering and swallowing lung-fulls of water and air.

“Help,” you called out pathetically, your throat burning as you inhaled the river water. What was the use? You had come alone. Hadn’t you checked no-one was around before you entered the river? One foot trapped in pondweed and the other fighting for purchase, your body lolled at an awkward angle. The current of the water clapped in your ears, and when it rose to meet the side of your face, you found it wasn’t cold anymore. Letting your head float there, you found it a comfort and, like your rapidly numbing body, relaxed.

What a stupid way to die, you thought. The daughter of a renowned healer, and a healer in her own right, drowning while harvesting ingredients. In the spring, no less.

“Mugwyrt, una, wegrade, atterlothe, maethe, wergulu, apple, fille, finule. Remember, Mugwyrt, what you brought to pass, what you readied, at Regenmeld-”

When thoughts of your mother, of Caen and of Osferth faded, only the nine herb charm remained.

“Mugwyrt, una, wegrade, atterlothe, maet-” It was like drifting into sleep, resting in the river. Your words became mumbled, slow, your memory weak.

“Mugwyrt, una, wegrade- mugwyrt-”

The sinking was slow. First, you arms lolled behind you, the gentle river current moving your fingers as though they were combing through hair. Next, it was your chest, the cold water warming the barrel of your ribs. The strangest part was your ears. As your head began to sink, a great roaring rang in your ears as they broke the water. Just the flow of the river and your own breath could be heard under there. The water edged across your cheeks-

Your body burned as you were rent harshly from the water. Compared to the water, the day burned every inch of exposed flesh. Two hands, firm and strong, gripped your waist and dragged you backwards. Your back hit the hard ground and you moaned as weight returned to your body.

As though still trapped in the river, every sound was amplified. The birds in the trees above you, the wash of water against the riverbank, the man calling your name. Blinking in the harsh light, you looked up at him. His hand was at your face, his warm fingers near searing your sensitive skin.

“Osferth?” You said meekly. The man above you hung his head in relief. “Why are you here?” You smiled stupidly, reaching to grip his shoulder and check he was real.

“I came to your home,” he was out of breath and panicked, that was clear by his wide eyes and pinched brow. Even in your state you could see it. “-and Caen told me had gone to the river. You told him it was too dangerous for him to accompany you and yet you went alone? What were you thinking?”

“I needed arrowhead,” you touched the waist of your bodice where the plants lay. “For your bruise,”

Osferth was flabbergasted, and tt was he who spluttered next. “For my-for my-” He stared down at you. There you were, in his arms, soaked to the bone, hair in tendrils adorned with weed, gazing up at him so happily. Words failed him, and so he did the only left in his mind.

Raising you gently, he ducked his head and placed a tender kiss to your lips. You sighed. He was tender and soft and oh so warm. When he parted from you, a look of apprehensive pride on his face, you laughed quietly.

“I have imagined that so many nights, but it was never like this,”

“I could say exactly the same.” He laughed and held you closer. When you curled a hand into his tunic, he looked down at you and frowned.

“What?”

“Lady, your lips are blue.”

Notes: My first reader insert, please be nice.

The Lacnunga (which means remedy) is a real text, believed to have been written in the 10th century, and that is where the nigon wyrta galdor, or nine herb charm, comes from. Galdor means healing spell.

And obviously, don’t use plants when you don’t know what they do or how to use them. Common plants can be very hard to distinguish and yes, I did once mix up water parsley and hemlock…However! Ribwort Plantain is great for inflammation, rub the leaves on sore joints or bites and it works a treat, trust me!

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#ewan mitchell #osferth #osferth x reader #ewan mitchell x reader #the last kingdom

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