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myladysapphire · 1 year

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My Lady Strong (I)

Aemond had always been protective of his neice, obssessed even, insiting on keeping her sheltered, and purley his, he never let her stray far and following the incident at Driftmark, Aemma was rarley without Aemond as her shadow. How will the kind, sheltered girl fair in the dance of dragons?

word count: 1,645

CW: childbirth, Aegon being Aegon, Bullying, child abuse, fear of the dark, refrences to torture, loving parents, oc is described to have brown hair, streaked with silver and purple eyes

Fem!oc x Aemond Targeryen (can be read as x reader)

Masterlist | series masterlist | next part

disclamer: i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and fire charecters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all charecters are his except for my OC

When Rhaenyra fell pregnant for a second time, she knew it would be different.

For the birth of Jacaerys, her pregnancy was followed with mass celebrations, house Veleryon showering her with gifts, proud that a child with Velaryon blood would sit on the iron throne. But after his birth, the celebrations ceased. Whispers swept through the court, questioning his birth. But after a few months, many came to the agreement it was his grandmother Rhaenys Baratheon’s blood shining through, she once looked more Baratheon than Targeryen and the child was merely taking after her.

But then she fell pregnant again, and though she was once more greeted with celebrations, the court held its breath.

One child born with the Baratheon looks was one thing, genetics was a mystery and it was pure chance he had brown hair and eyes.

But if this child too had the ‘Baratheon looks’ then it would all but confirm the rumours queen Alicent spun.

But that was not why Rhaenyra felt this pregnancy to be different, unlike her first pregnancy, she had different symptoms, morning skinniness, new cravings, and where before she had always had clear skin she was getting pimples and spots. She hoped for a girl, having always wanted a little sister, and now she would have a daughter. She had only ever imagined having girls, and though she was not disappointed at having a boy when the masters spoke of their predictions of it being a girl, she got a little jump in her step.

So, when she went into labour, whilst the court held its breath waiting for the legitimacy of her children to be confirmed, she held her excitement over having a daughter.

The day of her labour was not cheerful, the skies were grey and cloudy and when her contractions began rain fell from the sky, a storm from Stormsend having reached KingsLanding.

With the wind rattling against the windows, and thunder striking down from the sky, the family waiting outside, Viserys pacing the halls. Alicent biting her nails. This labour was tough, though Jacaerys birth had been easy, this had taken double the time his had, her screams, louder than even the storm raging outside. And when it all stopped the family feared the worse.

The young prince Aemond, only eighteen moons old had awoken, screaming insisting he is with his mother. Only to arrive just in time to hear his niece's screams and his eldest sister's laughter.

He rushed into her room, not even allowing time for his father to check on his daughter, before jumping up (as well as a toddler could) and sitting next to his sister insisting on holding his niece. Tired from the labour Rhaenyra agreed.

When her father and Alicent finally entered, they were quick to approach. Alicent caught a glimpse of black hair streaked with silver.

“A girl?” Viserys questioned, smiling down at the babe in Aemonds arms.

Nodding, Rhaenyra smiled “Aemma” she declared, causing a delighted laugh to leave Viserys mouth.

“She looks just like her, the Arryn genes are strong with her it seems, she even has your mother’s eyes.” And she did, Arryn blue eyes, not violet, as she had dreamed, but perfect.

She had attempted to take Aemma back from Aemond, but he had not let go, simply smiling and babbling to his niece, his Aemma.

As the years went by Aemond continued to stay with Aemma, scarcely letting her stray from his sight, his hand always holding hers. Where one was, the other was always near. Being the only two without a dragon, his never hatching, and her own destroyed along following the storm on the day of her birth, they had the same lessons, with no dragon lessons, they were very rarely apart.

Aemma had grown into a sweet, beautiful, and intelligent girl. Her looks compared to that of her great-grandmother, Daella, alongside her sweet nature. She had an innocence around her, being the middle child and only girl of her mother, her mother wished to preserve the child-like wonder for her daughter, wishing to grant her daughter the childhood of being the heir and the only child of a king stolen from her. Aemond was all too pleased to keep her like this, wanting to preserve her wonder, her need for him. Though book smart, the sheltered life she lived kept her from the real world. She was even protected from rumours, though they still were whispered, all desired to keep her from them.

She was a kind girl and underserving of the cruelty of court, but even that did not protect her from her family. Alicent had always been fond of her, always allowing her near her children, being kind, braiding her hair and even commissioning gifts for her. She was close to Heleana, the pair, whenever Aemond left her alone, often found each other’s company. Aemma was one the few people to share her interest in insects, even going out of her way to collect any that she thought Heleana might enjoy. But Aegon and her brothers were another story. Aegon was a jealous person, envying his niece for the kindness his mother never found him, so he took it out on her.

When Jacaerys let slip Aemma’s fear of the dark, an idea struck him.

The black cells.

Aemma rarely slept alone, with Aemond often sneaking in and sleeping with her, hating the moments apart even when they sleep. When he was sick, they often slept apart, his fear of catching his illness, however little or contagious it was. And her chambers always had candles lit for when she did sleep, a reassurance that whatever lurked in the dark was stopped by the glow of a candle.

Aegon waited for Aemond to fall ill, for a time he knew she would be alone. And snuck into her chambers, her brothers by his side.

It was the dead of night, the boys aged 9 and 6 tired but willing to please their uncle, snuck into her rooms and carried her through the keep down to the third level of black cells.

Being a deep sleeper, she didn’t wake once, not even flinch when Aegon picked her up and then dumped her in the cells.

They had run off giggling, thinking it a brilliant prank, and a way to cure her of her fear, as Aegon put it.

They had thought it would be overcome morning, that she would wake in the dark before finding the door and leaving.

None of them expected her to be locked in there for a week, they did not know the doors were locked and only opened from the outside.

The keep was in disarray searching for her, neither boy spoke up, fear of their punishment keeping them.

Aemond was driving everyone mad, ordering and screaming for her to be found. He was normally a shy quiet boy, unsure of himself. But with his Aemma missing all that was left of him was a madman.

The rest of the keep was in disarray. All guards were on the lookout for the princess, searching high and low. She had completely disappeared, without a trace.

The boys were growing nervous, they couldn’t admit to what had been done and they feared the black cells too much to return and retrieve her.

Aemma had woken in complete darkness, she could even see her hand it was so dark.

She could hear screaming as if they were her own, but she didn’t notice, she didn’t even notice as she crawled forward in her small cell and pounded on the door, begging to be let out. Or as she threw her guts up after hours of screaming and pounding.

She did notice when it all went quiet. When even her screams stopped when the screams of the criminals being tortured turned quiet.

She didn’t know how much time had passed, there was no way to tell day from night.

She slept when she collapsed, her tears lulling her into a tormented sleep, her stomach empty and churning.

She had no food nor water, the dungeon master had no clue she was down here, and no one did.

Not until a week had passed and Aemond dreamt of the black cells. She had refused to rest till she was found, but collapsing from exhaustion lead to his dream, leading his startling awake, and his racing to the cells. Ser Criston Cole was quick to follow him, though he did not care for the girl he still had a duty as a kingsguard. She was found after three hours of searching, three hours of Aemond shouting and ordering guards to search every cell on every level.

Ser Harwin Strong found her, he and her mother had, like Aemond, not stopped, fearing the worse, had not rested. When he found her she was sitting in the corner, head between her legs, rocking back and forth, tears streaming down her face. She was thin, with chapped lips, her face red and puffed with her never-ending tears.

She screamed when the light poured in, shuffling back into her corner.

“Aemma” Harwin breathed, before alerting the rest of the guard, Aemond came running over, taking her into his arms.

“Aemma” he cooed, taking her hand, she had flinched back from Harwin when he took her hand, but with Aemond she took it, and jumped in his arms, tears falling from her eyes once more. “it’s ok…it’s ok… your safe now” he spoke softly, stroking her hair.

Maesters were quick to attend to her, she was weak and dehydrated. And her mind was still in a panic. She refused to let go of Aemond, using him as a shield when her brothers and Aegon paid her a visit.

She never said who had done it, but her distance and new timid nature around her brothers and uncle was proof enough for Aemond.

But he couldn’t do anything, he was a victim of their bullying. Though they never did something similar or remotely as cruel again, Aemonds crazed state was enough for them to leave Aemma and him alone, at least until the pink dread.

a/n more of an intro chapter, half edited

next part

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readychilledwine · 4 months

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Pen Name

Summary - A romantic evening between lovers is interrupted when Cassian and Rhys want to bitch about Sellyn Drake's newest novel. - Azriel x Helion’s Daughter Oc

Warnings - Playful implied smut, references to subby cassian, sexual frustrations

A/n - This is heavily inspired by several theories and fan arts I've seen where Helion’s passion and hobby is writing smut novels. The thought of that lives rent-free in my mind honestly.

Azriel absent-mindedly stroked his mate's thigh as she sat on his lap. They had spent the evening alone, and were winding down before bed.

She was placing soft kisses under his jaw, along his neck, under his ear. Her intentions were clear, and Azriel was more than happy to sate her needs, but a loud knock and drunk laughter made her jump in his lap. Rhysand and Cassian. A shadow whispered before joining in touching its master's mate . "What assholes?" They entered his room, laughing with a flush on both of their faces.

"You," Rhysand pointed to the Day Court Female currently occupying his brother's lap. "Sellyn Drake books. You read 'em?"

Mara's head fell back into Azriel's shoulder as they both schooled laughter. "Once or twice. Normally when I'm already riding Azriel."

"Fuuuuuuuuck." Cassian said as he sat down and smirked. "Tell me more."

Azriel smiled and laughed as he had a shadow shut and lock the door. "I make her read the smutty parts of those books while I'm fucking her. If she can't concentrate she gets punished."

Mara sighed, "I get punished a lot. Did Nesta pick up the new book?" Rhys and Cassian both scoffed and took a drink of their whiskey. "Feyre as well then?"

The high lord sighed. "She won't even look at me, Rara. She slaps my hands if I try to touch her." Mara hid her face in Azriel's neck trying not to laugh. "You have a secret. You delicious little creature. Tell me."

She and Azriel shook their heads, their cheeks becoming red as they tried to contain their laughter. "Mar! Help us!" Cassian threw his hands up. "Help me mainly. Fuck you." He pointed at Rhys who responded with a hiccup and singular finger in the air. "Even Elain is getting in on this shit, but Lucien just laughs about it."

Huh. Wonder why. Azriel said down their bond. Couldn't have anything to do with…. The secret…

Nope definitely not. Mara sighed. "I'm shocked that you and Nesta don't have the same arrangement as Azriel and I do."

Cassian threw himself on the bed and sighed dramatically, "Nesta isn't into the "punishment" bullshit. Unless it's me. In which case, mommy gets what mommy wants."

She sighed dramatically again. "I was hoping to get what I wanted tonight, but now you two are here." Azriel whined behind his mate. A silent fuck you being sent to his brothers. "They'll get over it. This one is EXTRA spicy though."

Rhys straightened back up, "It just came out yesterday, Mara. Did you finish it already?"

The mates held eye contact and then burst into laughter as she stood and moved to their shared desk. Rhys watched as she opened the largest compartment and pulled out a manuscript. "Of course I did."

Cassian sat back up slowly. "You bitch. Are Drake? Because if you are, you're ruining my sex life."

She started laughing again, tears falling from her eyes. "I'm not, but Azriel and I know who is."

Azriel covered his mouth as his brothers looked at him. "I found out unwillingly. That one," he pointed to his mate before beckoning her back to his lap with two fingers, "Told me when she was drunk and swore me into actual secrecy."

Rhys snapped his head to Mara after he recognized the handwriting on the notes she was passing back and forth with the famous smut author. "No."

She squeaked and threw her head back laughing, "Yes."

"No," Rhys said again laughing. "Are you serious?!"

"I am."

"Cauldron boil and fry me." Rhys looked at Azriel. "You knew?"

Azriel nodded. "Can you get me a drink, baby?"

"Whiskey on the rocks?" Azriel nodded at her, kissing her deeply before she left the room. Do not tease him about this, Rhys. It's a passion project, and it makes him happy.

I would never. Rhys responded. This is the 2nd greatest secret I've ever learned. Rhys smirked at Azriel while Cassian stared at the manuscript, trying to figure out what Rhys did.

Mara returned, handing the whiskey to her mate before returning to her spot on his lap. "What's wrong, Cassie?"

The general's face was unreadable. It went between shock, confusion, and amusement. "Does your father know all of our females here read his books?"

Azriel chuckled into her shoulder, placing a gentle kiss on the exposed skin. "He does. Nesta and he have actually spoken about the novellas at length."

Cassian's hand ran along his face. "So, Helion knows my mate gets hot and bothered while reading his books?"

Azriel nodded. "He takes great pride in knowing he gets the High Lady of the Night Court and Lady Death off nightly."

Mara giggled into Azriel's shoulder. Rhysand's jaw had dropped slightly. "That- I." The High Lord was rarely lost for words. "Does he know his daughter rides my shadowsinger while reading them?!"

"Yes," Azriel and Mara answered together.

"My father is still trying to sleep with my husband. Do you really think there's boundaries in our relationship?"

Azriel muttered under his breath. "There should be."

Mara rolled her eyes. "Cassian, you really should read this one." The brothers all watched as she leaned forward. "Dad gets his stories based on watching couples at his gatherings or stories his friends tell him."

Cassian rose a singular brow. "And?"

Mara just smirked in return. "So you should read it. Chapter 41, Cass."

Cassian nodded. Standing to leave the room. "I'm going to try to get laid. I'll think about it."

Azriel was smirking at Rhysand who had begun flipping through the drafted manuscript. His star flecked eyes widdened before he left out loud laughter.

Mara handed Rhys the whiskey she had also brought him. Azriel, raising his glass to Rhys, cleared his throat. "To telling our mates to put their hands on the head board and breaking beds."

Rhys raised his glass. "To fucking like Gods and being the inspiration to Helion's pen name."

#acotar #azriel acotar #azriel #rhysand acotar #rhys acotar #azriel x oc #cassian acosf #cassian x nesta #rhys x feyre #helion spell cleaver

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ratrrriot · 1 year

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Do you have any sonic ocs? (Or ocs in general, haha) (totally not asking so I can make fanart, nahhhh….)

The fact that you are considering drawing my OCS when you haven't even seen them yet is very flattering,thank you!!

these are from when i was in highschool lol

This is Spark, They are a Tetraplegic Chao Cream found and brought to Tails,who successfully managed to build a fully functional mechanical body for them to play with. This robot body is connected to their brain and can even fly.

Spark lives at Tail's workshop and they’re clearly very fond of Cream -who regularly visits them to play- and Tails.

Originally,Tails was going to design Spark’s robot body based on his own (for trademark reasons) but since Cream was Spark's “owner” (for lack of a better term referring to someone who takes care of a chao) ,she wanted to participate in the designing part and gave him a few crayon drawings of rabbits, which were so cute that Tails simply had to include them in the final design. This is why they look like a Fox/Rabbit hybrid. (it also makes sense since Spark sees them both as some sort of older siblings)

ofc Spark isn't always inside their robot body,Tails takes them in and out everyday.

Aaand these are some apprentices I designed for the Babylon Rogues! Tundra,Velvet and Ember. They love snowboarding and are developing their skills at Extreme Gear Racing. They kinda need some redesigning...

These three are orphans. They used to live at an orphanage situated in a small town near Snow Valley. Unsatisfied with their lives there (and that nobody seemed to be interested in adopting them) they ran away around the age of 12 to try and start new lifes on their own,resorting to thievery and trickery to get by. Life was hard and unfair for three kids growing up in the snowy streets,but thanks to Velvet's determination,Ember's charisma and Tundra's intelligence they managed to survive. After a year of wandering,they stole 3 snowboards and started practicing the sport ,with the hopes that one day they would become famous professionals who didn't need to resort to stealing. However,by they age of 16, they hadn't just developed great skill and love for what they now consider "the art of thievery" - and a liking for equipment and luxuries most can't afford- but they also had lost all interest on the "safer" version of snowboarding and became addicted to the speed and the danger of racing.

They set on a journey to find their childhood idols: The babylon Rogues, a group of legendary thieves that they heard tales about back at the orphanage's storytime and who's Extreme Gear skills were what originally inspired them to try snowboarding. They traveled far and wide searching for them and once they managed to find Wave,Jet and Storm,they begged them to teach them their ways . After annoying them enough (and practically not letting them alone lol) the trio of professionals finally agreed to train them.

VELVET THE NORTHERN CARDINAL:

Energic,Peppy,Sassy,Optimistic,laid-back and confident. A speed junkie and a little bit of a clown. The fastest of the trio. Jet is his Idol and he'll do anything to impress him. Tries to annoy Sonic to imitate his teacher,but he actually thinks he is the coolest guy around after Jet. He has a big heart and doesn't seem to hate Sonic -or anyone -at all,but he does enjoy some friendly banter at the moment of competing. Jet likes him a lot and is kinda proud of him but he tries not to show it ,as he doesn't want the kid (or himself) to get attached or to think he'll actually pass to him his "Master of the wind" title someday.

The gem-shaped-computer on his neck was a gift he received from Wave after she updated her own and didn't know what to do with her old one. According to her,she handed it down to him cause "it matched his feathers". Now,feeling honored by one of his idols,he wears it with pride.

EMBER THE COCKATIEL:

Cheeky, Rebellious, Brave, Impulsive and Loyal. Doing tricks in the air like its nothing is her specialty. Cares a lot about her looks and is an expert at the art of deception. She is also can be a little bit of meanie. She and Wave share a sister-like kind of relationship. Since they both have strong personalities, they fight a lot and she tends to disobey her,espeally when it comes to the times she tries to teach her about mechanics and "the boring part" of Extreme Gear personalization. However, they always make up and end up gossiping at the end of the day.

TUNDRA THE CRESTED PENGUIN :

Silent, cold, shy, serious, a bit competitive and incredibly smart. Expert at strategizing and finding shortcuts while racing. Has high expectations of himself and doesn't handle failure very well. Being the oldest by a year,he is very protective of his adoptive siblings. Unlike Wave and Jet,Storm didn't have to be convinced to take him under his wing cause he liked the kid since the moment he showed up. tho he is trying to teach him to live a little and be a bit more impulsive at the moment of racing.

#rat answers #my sonic ocs #Spark #Ember the cockatiel #Tundra the crested penguin #Velvet the northern cardinal

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chunkypossum · 17 days

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Poly+ ACOTAR Week Master List

I knew I wanted to participate in @polyacotarweek this year but I even surprised myself at how much I wrote. Starting tomorrow here is what I have planned to post this week!

Day 1: Beginnings || Embers in the Wind

Nesta X Cassian X Eris Part 1/4 || 4k words READ ON AO3

Cassian and Nesta are happier than they have ever been, or so they thought. When their mating bond snapped, it wasn’t only euphoric it was healing. Both Cassian and Nesta had so many years of trauma to overcome to finally learn to love each other properly. So, what happens when they get thrown a third mating bond that they never expected? What happens when their new mate can’t handle the pressure of the bond? What happens when it's someone they thought they were supposed to hate?

Day 2: Comfort || Embers in the Wind

Nesta X Cassian X Eris Part 2/4 || 4k words READ ON AO3

Day 3: Secrets || Embers in the Wind

Nesta X Cassian X Eris Part 3/4 || 6k words READ ON AO3

Day 4: Adventure || Embers in the Wind

Nesta X Cassian X Eris Part 4/4 || 7k words READ ON AO3

Day 5: Favorite Tropes || A Dance Named Starlight - AU

Cassian X Nesta X Eris X Azriel 7k words READ ON AO3

Fake wedding dates + a little bit of jealousy, plenty could go wrong, but what about all the things that could go right? Nesta and Cassian are on a break but she can't show up to her sister's wedding alone. Who better to accompany her than the ostentatious brother of the groom, Eris Vanserra? Thankfully, he is also newly single and ready to make a pointed appearance with Nesta on his arm. Dressed to impress and ready to wow everyone on the dance floor, this pair thought they were ready for anything. What they didn't account for was just how tangled their heartstrings would become.

Day 7: Free Day || Lighthouse in the Woods

Azriel X Eris X OC Prologue + Ch 1/4 || 9k words READ ON AO3

The New High Lord of Autumn isn't fairing too well with his new reign. Luckily his allies in the Night Court are willing to send him aid. The Spymaster is just too good at his job however, and the High Lord isn't quite sure how to let him go when his problems become manageable again. When a budding friendship turns into something more, they're going to have to decide how they define what a family is and where to call home.

If anyone would like to be tagged, please just ask! <3

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seenoversundown · 2 months

Text

Succulent

Sam x Fem OC

Warnings: 18+ Smut (Minors DNI) Praise Kink, Edging, mentions of Choking (very mild) Dom Sam, Oral (F & M receiving) Fingering, Penetrative sex, Cockwarming, Degradation in the form of condescension, Spanking (if you squint) , and finally some fluff.

Word Count: 6.3k

Author's Note: Just a little treat for you hehe 🤭 Enjoy!

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Succulent (adjective) (of food) tender, juicy, and tasty

Birdie POV

“I’m so excited.” I’m giddy with anticipation in the front seat of Sam’s new truck, a Toyota Tundra he named ‘Mr. Big’ after the character in Zootopia. He tried to stick it out as long as he could with Edith, poor guy, but she gave up all on her own. Though I have to say, I much preferred Edith over Mr. Big. I think I just get nostalgic for all the adventures we took with her.

The three hour journey has been a lengthy one, but with the long winding road coming into view, I know we're close. I’ve never been to Stowe, Vermont before but I know it's a popular vacation spot. Vermont lends a same outdoorsy feel as home while not being too far away, the perfect getaway spot. Sam reaches a hand across the console and takes mine in his, my heart squeezing along with the pressure of his fingers. I can’t help but stare at him. We’ve made it so far over the last, almost two years. Learning so much from each other, testing each other, pushing each other. God, we’re so ingrained in the very make-up of each other at this point I forget we haven’t even celebrated our second anniversary yet.

“I think this is it.”

We pull into a long driveway and up to a gorgeous natural wood cabin with a two-car garage. There are windows on either side of the chimney who’s brick is exposed to the outside, oh there’s a fireplace, and a porch that runs the length of the house. Fresh snow adorns the large yard, and I just know that the view from the inside is going to be so beautiful in the morning.

“Oh, Sammy. This is incredible!” I exclaim. I scoot to the edge of my seat, trying to get a better view.

“Wait til you see the inside, there’s 3 bedrooms and a sauna,” shooting me a wink before putting the truck in park.

“A sauna, huh?” I lean an elbow on the center console and pull him in for a slow kiss by the front of his jacket. “I’m definitely getting some use out of that.” I press another quick kiss to his lips before I unbuckle my seatbelt. Sam slides out of the truck and grabs our bags from the back seat, tossing both backpacks, one on top of each other, over his shoulder. I exit the truck and meet him around the front; he pulls me close to his chest, both of us trying to preserve a bit of warmth now that the biting winter air has surrounded us.

“It’s ours for the whole week,” he whispers into my hair, pressing his lips to my temple. “Just the two of us.”

“Let’s go, let’s go!” I head toward the entryway pulling him by the arm.

Once the door is closed, we take a left through the tiny hallway, the same natural wood as the outside covering the walls. Sam sets down our bags, sticking his head in each door, trying to get a feel for the place.

“These are the spares and the main floor bathroom. The Master bed is upstairs and has a loft area I think.” He takes my hand again, his hand warm around my chilly one. I’m forever thankful that he’s a very hot-blooded individual. “Yeah, it’s through here.”

We walk past a set of stairs on the left and the kitchen on the right. I can feel the enthusiasm radiating off of him like a solar flare as he tries to scope out each corner before I get a chance to catch up to him.

“Look at the view, Birdie!” he beams, eyes bright and arms wide open. “There’s a breakfast bar for our mornings and the fireplace to keep us toasty, though I’m not sure we’ll need help in that department.” He points around the living room. I keep a comment about the terrifying bear skin located above said fireplace to myself.

“I definitely don’t, I have you to keep me warm.” I meet him in the middle of the floor and slide my arms around his middle, locking my hands behind his back. He rubs at my shoulders. “That’s right,” he says, placing an innocent kiss to my nose. “But we’re still going to use it.” We pull apart from each other so he can continue the tour despite both of us never having been here before.

“I would never rob you of such a joy then. Proceed, kind sir.” I tease in a slight British accent, making a small bow. When we reach the top of the stairs we come to the small loft area, complete with a lovely day bed by a window that the sun peaks through. We step forward through the set of doors, passing the bathroom, and into the Master bedroom.

“This.. is the master bedroom. But the best part,” he doubles back to the bathroom, opening the door wide and stepping inside to make room for me to follow.

“The sauna is in our bathroom.” My eyes light up. He hums out an encouragement, tugging me back into his body by my wrist. I hit him with a light thud.

“I can’t wait to fuck you in there.” He growls lowly into my ear. My breath hitches in my throat, and immediately, my cheeks start to flush. His words hit me entirely to my core, and I resist the urge to press my legs together for relief. I wouldn’t dare give him the satisfaction of knowing he's gotten to me this early in the trip, not when we have a whole week ahead of us.

“So what’s on the itinerary for tonight then?” I inquire, head tilted up so I can stare into his chestnut eyes.

“I’m so glad you asked my little bird.” He takes my hand in his, once again leading me toward the living room. “Once I grab the cooler from Mr. Big, I’ll pour you a glass of wine, and you can get relaxed, while I cook dinner. We can set up by the fire and eat on the floor like all romantic movies do in log cabins in the woods.” He brushes the hair out of his face and chuckles a bit. “I even packed that nice fuzzy blanket you love so much. It’ll be like our own romantic indoor picnic,” he continues.

“Wow, Sammy. You thought of everything, didn't you.” A swell of pride thrums through my chest.

Something I’ve learned over my time with Sam is that he always means well, even if his execution isn’t the best. And trust me, there have been some poor executions. Each mishap more endearing than the last, but this time, it really seems like he’s gotten the hang of the romance thing.

“Gunna be honest with you. I asked every single one of my brothers for advice and did a lot of studying.” he huffs out a slightly uncomfortable laugh and scratches at the back of his neck.

“Studying? What does studying mean?” I giggle.

“Well, your job has sent you on a couple trips this last month. I didn’t know what to do with myself. Daniel has his hands full with the girls, Josh and Jake are always busy. Bar stuff or whatever.” He shifts awkwardly between his feet. “I just.. watched a lot of romcoms and romance movies. Ya know, the kind you always like to watch.” he does a little double snap clap with his hands.

I bark out a loud laugh and clutch my tummy. Oh, I love him.

“Hey!” he says a bit defensively.

“I’m not laughing AT you, Babe. I promise. That’s just the cutest fucking thing you’ve ever said to me. C’mere,” I hold my arms out for him to fit between. “Thank you. This week is going to be perfect no matter what. But the effort you’re making means the most to me, you know that.” I hug him tightly, hoping to convey just how appreciative I am.

No one has ever loved me the way he has. His love is messy and goofy. His love is filled with laughter and childlike wonder. Adventure and weekend trips. Nights snuggled on the couch and days when we don’t leave bed. Kisses peppered on cheeks and hips gripped mean. Arguments that end wrapped around each other because despite falling madly in love, we still try to get under each other's skin for fun. He has my entire heart, and I can’t bear the thought of my life being any other way.

“Now go get that cooler,” I slap his butt lightly. “I’m ready for some wine.”

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As I sip my wine and warm my toes by the fire, I look over my shoulder at Sam who’s slaving away in the kitchen.

“Do I get a hint?” I call over to him. He looks so cute, a dish rag slung over his shoulder, face knit in concentration. The cream cable-knit sweater he dons was a personal request of mine. He agreed on the pretense that I would wear the red sweater he loves so much. At least we’re on theme for the holiday.

“No,” he says plainly, clearly focused.

“Oh, that’s no fun.” I turn and kneel backward on the couch, giving him my best pout, trying to distract him. His eyes dart to me before falling back to his work, he smiles wide.

“You’re cheating. You know I can’t resist that face.” He steals another glance at me.

“I’m doing no such thing.” I protest. “I am simply inquiring about what my boyfriend is making me to eat.” I hop off the couch, setting my glass on the coffee table. I meet him in the kitchen, sneaking my arms around his waist and firmly planting my cheek against his back. He moves a little slower with me clinging to him but he doesn’t shoo me away, just lightly pats my wrist with one of his hands and continues to work. I take in a deep breath, inhaling the aromas from the meal.

“It smells good, babe.” I hop onto the free bit of counter beside him. He puts the lid back on the pan and turns his attention to me.

“It needs to simmer for a few minutes.” He winks at me, delicately fitting between my legs, his hands sliding up the fabric of my leggings before settling on my hips. I giggle, and he scoots me to the edge, bringing me closer to his body. I place my hands on the nape of his neck, sliding my fingers through the hair he’s messily tucked into a bun. I tug gently, and his mouth opens, and eyes close. Why does he have to be so pretty? It's moments when he looks like this that I wish I could take photos with my mind. What I wouldn’t give to take that photo out on a rainy day…

I lean in and close the gap between us, our lips meeting in a sweet kiss. Not urgent or needy. The kind of kiss where you simply tell each other how full your heart is.

He hums against my mouth. “Mm, if you distract me, I’ll burn the food.”

I pepper kisses along his cheek and jaw, and he reaches over to tend to the pan. “Can you please gimme a hint?”

“And ruin the surprise?” His arm moves, stirring whatever he’s making with a wooden spoon. As easy as it would be for me to just look over, I'm too distracted by nibbling at his ear to bother trying to sneak a peek.

“Come on, baby,” I whisper seductively in his ear. I plant a kiss on any expanse of skin I reach, repeating the word please over and over again until… He gives in. I feel his throat swallow beneath my touch.

“Remember the first time we went out together?” He gently clears his throat.

“On our first date? Yeah, you took–”

“No, the first time we ate together at a restaurant. Where we went.” he cuts me off. I can see the amusement settle on his face as he sees me try to look through the filing cabinet in my brain.

Oh.

“You took me to the cheese place.” I tuck my hair behind my ear.

“Yeah, the cheese place.” He laughs. “You ordered the mushroom risotto, and you loved it. I figured since we haven’t actually been back..” he trails off.

I leave him to finish cooking, suddenly very excited for our meal now that I know what we’re having. Instead, I rearrange the living room to make a spot for us to eat. I move the coffee table off to the side, freeing up the space in front of the fireplace. Digging through the other bag Sam packed for us, and finding my favorite cream colored fuzzy throw blanket. Big enough for all nearly six feet of him and myself to fit under when we cuddle on the couch. I grab the coasters for our drinks, setting them on the hearth, and plop a couple pillows for us to sit on. Mostly for me because I apparently have a ‘bony ass,’ according to him. By the time that I’ve got everything settled Sam is walking through the living room with two bowls, one in each hand. He sets them on the hearth, grabbing my glass and running off to the kitchen for a refill.

“Here you go, Birdie,” he says, handing me my glass and sitting down in front of me.

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“God, that was so good.” I rub at my tummy. He smiles at me over the top of his glass as he sips his wine. “This has been a really good start to our mini vacation.” A much needed vacation if I’m being honest. I feel like I’ve hardly spent any time with him this month. He reaches out, placing his palm on my cheek. Stroking his thumb along my cheekbone.

“I’m glad you’re happy, baby.” He says sweetly. And I am. So fucking happy I didn’t think it was possible. I adjust on my pillow, kicking my legs out in front of me and rubbing my feet against his legs. His hand finds my ankle rubbing smooth circles on the tiny patch of skin he finds.

“I hope you saved room for dessert.” He says, his fingers delicately sliding up my leg.

“There’s dessert? Why didn’t you tell me that before.” I set my glass down on the hearth and scoot closer to him. His fingertips slide up the inside of my thigh.

“Of course, there’s dessert. You think I’d make you a lovely dinner and not have dessert too?” He teases, his fingers dangerously close to my core. I smile in satisfaction, his hands feeling too good as they dance over me. He pulls me in for a short kiss. “I really think you’re gonna love what I have planned.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm.” His fingers find the hem of my sweater, and he pulls it over my head. Revealing the dusty pink floral lace bra I’m wearing. He stares at me for a moment. Taking me in.

“Lie back, babygirl,” he instructs, using a nickname he’s reserved only for intimacy. I do as I’m told, as all good girls do, and connect with the plush blanket laid beneath us. I can still feel the warmth of the fire heating my left side, though after time spent for dinner, it has dimmed a bit. Like our own personal, romantic light setting. I stretch my arms out above my head and close my eyes, waiting. He grabs the waistband of my leggings, tugging them down my legs and tossing it to the side.

“God, you look good enough to eat.” He spreads my legs and sits on his knees between mine. “But you know that, don’t you?” I can feel his eyes of admiration on me. Like an invisible touch skimming down my body over every curve and divot. I anticipate his touch, resisting the urge to open my eyes. I try to guess where his hands will land when he does finally decide to reach out and touch me. Sam loves the game, though, the cat and mouse before the main act. And the cocky tone of his voice gets me going every time.

“Words, Baby.” He demands. The rush of pressure I feel between my legs at that moment is my favorite part of being with Sam. My heart pounds in my ribcage.

“Yes.” I squeak out. “I wanted to look good for you.” Every second he delays touching me my breath quickens. The sound of his pants against the blanket causes my stomach to flip. The cool air coming with whatever movement he’s making sends a chill down my spine, and goosebumps to appear on my skin. I hear the soft thud of what I hope is his sweater. Please be shirtless, please be shirtless. Even after all this time, the sight of him still makes me salivate.

A delicate hand caresses my thigh, and I twitch slightly at the unexpected touch.

“You did such a good job for me.” His sweet praise is music to my ears as his fingers glide toward my hip. “Look at you, so beautiful and laid out for me. Ready for me to take when I want.” He squeezes gently when he reaches his destination, and the cocky laugh that follows sends a flood of arousal to my core.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and listen to me tonight?” I smile ear to ear and nod emphatically.

“Good.” He continues. He catches the hem of my panties with his pointer finger and follows along the edge of the blush-pink colored lace. When he reaches where I most desire him, he puts pressure along my pussy with the back of his finger and then snaps the fabric. The sharp sting is welcomed, but the absence of his touch makes me whine audibly.

He places each hand on the floor next to my shoulders, hovering over me. As he runs his nose up the length of my neck, he opens his mouth to breathe hot air in its wake. “So needy already?” He asks when he reaches my ear. “But I’ve barely touched you.”

“Please,” I beg. Knowing it’s what he wants to hear, but not holding out hope for my favor.

“Please, what, baby?” The husky tone of his voice sends a chill down my spine. He reaches his tongue out and flicks at my earlobe.

“Fuck me. Please.” My face scrunches in another desperate whine.

He tuts quietly, “I’m only getting started, baby.”

I know as soon as the words leave his lips that I’m in for a long night. A slow form of torture that I’ll be thankful for come the morning.

He pushes himself up and sits back on his heels. He taps my hip, signaling me to raise them, and he hooks his fingers under the lace of my underwear, sliding it down the length of my legs, discarding the material next to his shirt. Placing both hands on each respective knee, he spreads me wide, and his mouth drops open at the sight of me. My eyes fall to his plush, rosy lips.

“Mmm,” he hums, running his tongue along his top lip. “Good enough to eat, indeed.”

Sam settles on his stomach, his left arm hooking around my leg. I hum at the heated contact of his palm, splayed across my lower abdomen. I can feel the cool air hit my dripping pussy as he takes slow breaths, plotting my demise. He lets out another arrogant laugh, no doubt satisfied at how I glisten by the firelight.

He rests his head against my thigh, now purposeful with the air he blows on me. I shudder a little, letting out a tiny gasp of air. The throbbing between my legs is so intense I can practically feel it in my throat. I swallow thickly. His free hand dances up the inside of the thigh he’s not resting against, his mouth open with a slight smile. Oh the fun he’s having, like I’m his own personal plaything. I would do anything to make him happy if it meant I experience this continued arousal. He tickles back and forth over the crease of my groin. So close and yet just far enough away from where I want him. No, where I need him. I bite my lip to try and center myself.

He finally makes contact with me, dragging his middle finger tantalizingly slow down the center of my pussy. My teeth sink into my lip so hard I nearly draw blood when the pressure reaches my clit; he continues until he meets where my wetness is pooling for him. He takes a moment to thoroughly coat the tip of his finger before he pops it into his mouth, savoring the taste of me.

“You’re so wet for me, sweetheart. And you taste so fucking good. How did that happen?” He teases, but I don’t laugh. He reaches down, slowly inserting his first two fingers, but he doesn’t move them.

His teasing is so torturous I cry out. The thrum of my heart beats around his fingers, and I clench, trying to coax him into movement. I should know better.

“I know, baby girl, I know. You’re going to listen to me, though, and you’ll get what you want.” He places a gentle kiss on my thigh, “I’ll give you everything you want.”

I shake my head, feeling around for the blanket to bunch in my palms, giving my hands something to do.

“I’ve been thinking about dessert since we left, and I already know how sweet it is.” Sam continues his kisses, descending to my pussy. “I’m hungry, I think it’s time for a treat. I want you to relax for me, babygirl.” Everything his mouth is doing effectively distracts me from the fingers remaining stilled inside me.

He places a gentle kiss to the top of my slit and begins his assault. Finally, he licks up the center of me, flicking my clit with just the tip of his tongue. I moan at the contact, all that build-up finally paying off. I squeeze around his fingers, attempting to speed up the race to the finish line..

And he stops.

I whine at the loss of contact.

There’s always a game.

I look down at his wicked grin. “I told you to relax, babygirl.” His playful tone is as arrogant as ever. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you?” His brow furrows with his question, and his lips shine with the evidence of me.

I nod slowly.

“Good girls listen.” One eyebrow cocks toward his hairline. “Let’s try again.”

Sam’s mouth is on me again, and I try to concentrate on breathing instead of the steady attack of his tongue against my clit. In fast, short licks, he slowly drives me to insanity. The heat of pleasure radiates over my body, a hot pulse running through me in waves. I will myself to calm down every time I start to tighten my walls, attempting to breathe and focus on something else, anything else. But the force of his tongue lapping at me is overriding my brain, and I can’t help myself. I clench hard in search of release, pulling the blanket clutched in my hands toward my chest for leverage in my chase.

He stops once more.

I groan out angrily and lay myself flat, resuming my original position.

“So needy and so pathetic. You can’t even handle it, can you?”

When I don’t respond, he strokes his fingers inside me a few times, suddenly remembering their place inside me. I jolt up to my elbows, tightening my fists around the blanket I still clutch. The shock of a moment of pleasure settling in my stomach before dissipating.

“You know I love to hear your pretty little voice, baby. Come on, use your words for me.”

I swallow before I beg for any amount of relief. “Please, Sammy. Please.”

He slides his left hand up my stomach, a gentle push signaling me to lie back.

“When you learn to relax, you’ll be rewarded. The only thing standing in the way of that right now is you.”

This time, the forefinger and thumb come down and spread my lips open, exposing me to him fully.

“Come on, baby, I know you can do it.” He coaxes gently. He’s careful not to make contact with any other part of me, so the only thing I can feel is the tip of his tongue on my increasingly sensitive nub. Little beads of sweat start to collect around the nape of my neck from the struggle of self-control. The pleasure is so intense I fear I won’t be able to think straight for a week when I finally reach my release. My pussy starts to flutter gently around his fingers again; every time I twitch, I relax the muscles as best I can.

“That’s it, baby.” He comes up for air long enough to utter his praise, and he’s descending again. Somehow the momentary break increases the tension slowly building in me.

I tighten once more at his words and relax just as fast. I bite out quickly, “Don’t stop Sammy, please. I can do it.. I can do it.” my voice trails off. I work evening breath enough to let my orgasm ascend on its own without the encouragement of actions.

He pulls back the hood of my clit with his thumb, and that’s the moment I begin to unravel completely. I yell out as I fight against my body's own natural instincts and the pleasure of it all; he continues the onslaught against my bundle of nerves, using the arm hooked around my leg to keep me in place. I writhe underneath his grasp as the tension finally snaps, my body going numb as my orgasm finally washes over every bit of me. My head clouds, and my body feels like it's floating. I immediately contract, my hands finding purchase in his hair, pulling tightly as the stimulation becomes too much. He moans against my pussy, causing me to jerk again. My voice echoes through the large living room. I reach my left hand out, meeting the brick of the hearth, trying to steady myself. He slows his movements, easing me out but still causing small ripples of pleasure with every affectionate lick and kiss of my pussy. I brush the tendrils sticking to my forehead out of my face and breathe a sigh of relief.

“Good girls who listen get rewarded.” He says smugly, licking at his lips covered in my orgasm. He looks so sexy, god. I lunge at him, tackling him to his back. Landing in a hard thud against the soft blanket, I kiss him, needy and desperate. A surge of energy running through me from the adrenaline, followed by a wave of arousal as I taste myself on his lips.

“You sound so sexy when you cum.” He says between my efforts to lap up every last remaining bit of myself still lingering on his mouth. “I’d put that on a loop for hours if I could.”

I cry out, “Oh god.” I start a path of kisses from his neck down his chest as he continues.

“Yeah? You like the idea of me listening to you cum over.. And over again? A little audio stored in my phone for me to listen to while I’m out?”

I nod furiously against his soft stomach, the tiniest bit salty from the sweat we’ve worked up. I run my hand down over the front of his black sweats, feeling his length beneath my fingers.

“While I’m buying groceries?” I nod again; his fingers tangle themselves in my hair.

“On my drive to work?” I nod once more, whining at his words. The sound of relief from his lips was enough to send my head spinning. He tugs at my roots just enough to hurt but still feel amazing. I work my way to the waistband of his joggers; I tug gently, exposing his hard length.

“No boxers?” I question teasingly. “Scandalous.” I laugh and press one last kiss to his stomach, taking a hold of him in my delicate hand.

“Mmm.” He tilts his head back as my fingers run over him. “Your turn for dessert, baby. Open.” He demands, and I obey. I open wide and stick my tongue out, waiting for him. He takes full advantage of that by pulling the hair clutched in his hand and guiding me to his cock. I wrap my lips around him; the sound of his pleasure is music to my ears. I move in quick, even motions up and down his shaft, my hand making up for the part of him I can’t swallow. Paying attention to every upstroke, I flick my tongue around the head. One of his hands makes its way to my cheek, gently stroking it with his thumb.

“Just like that, fuck.” He moans, gripping my hair tighter and tighter, spurring me on. I bob my head faster as encouragement falls freely from his lips. My arousal pooling and dripping down my leg with every sound spilling from his mouth. God, the mouth on him.

“You’re doing so good for me.” His hips start to jut, matching the movements of my mouth. Hands locked in my hair, he pulls my face to his base, pausing for a moment.

“Fuck.” he cries out and releases his grip. I come up for air, a trail of spit still linking us together as I catch my breath. My lungs working overdrive to make up for the loss of oxygen.

“I could fuck that mouth forever.” He says, and I let out a desperate whine.

“So do it.”

I clamor my way back to his cock, desperately needing to taste him on my tongue again. I flatten my tongue and lick from base to tip and then wrap my lips around him. I lock eyes with him as I focus on the head, knowing how sensitive he is there.

Sam’s nostrils flare, and he grunts out. The switch flipping in him that I needed. He’s always in control, but every once in a while, his feral side comes out. The uninhibited Sam that fucks me hard and rough, and god, if I don’t fucking need him right now.

He sits up on his knees, kneeling before me. Yanking his sweatpants further down to his thighs, and grabs me, one hand planted on either side of my face, and bites out, “Open.”

His cock slides into my mouth, his full length against my tongue, and he repeatedly meets the back of my throat. He shows me no mercy. His hands and hips taking control and working overdrive so I just sit there and take it. I gladly take everything that he gives me. Over and over again, my lips meet his pubic bone as he fucks my mouth. I reach for leverage, grabbing a hold of where his pants sit around his thighs. The repetition of ‘fuck’ that leaves his lips, calling my attention back to his face. His eyes bore into mine, and he pulls me off his dick. He lets out a yell of frustration; I know he’s holding back. Trying not to cum down my throat because the only place he cums is inside of me. ‘You’re mine, Birdie,’ he always tells me.

“Hands.” He points to the hearth, and I hustle on my knees to place my palms on the warm stone. He unhooks my bra, somehow the only piece of my clothing left remaining. I bend over, sticking my ass out, waiting for his return. I peek over my shoulder, sneaking a glance at him as he shimmies out of his sweats. He kneels behind me and gently runs his hand over my ass, up my back, and settling on my shoulder. He pulls me to his chest.

“Ready, babygirl,” he asks as he slides his hand around my throat, gripping gently, and I nod in response. His other hand curves around my body, grasping my breast in his palm. He gives it a rough squeeze before pinching my nipple. I suck in a breath through my teeth.

“Good.” he lets out a little chuckle and soothes my bud between his fingers, gently rolling out the pain. His fingers glide delicately down my torso, and he cups my heat.

“I’m gunna fuck this pretty cunt so good.” My mouth falls open, my head leaning back. Just as my head meets his shoulder, relaxing into his touch, he pushes me forward back to my hands.

He notches his cock at my opening, both hands bracing me by the hips, and slowly enters me. I moan out at the pleasure of him slowly stretching me, and I silently thank god for the fact that we are isolated out here. I couldn’t be quiet even if I tried.

The push and pull of his cock with each slow thrust softly warming me. I tilt my head back in pleasure as he starts to work up a rhythm. He delivers a hard smack against my ass, and I grip the stone hearth tighter, feeling the roughness under my palms. His hand rubbing at my cheek, soothing the sting.

“You feel so fucking good.” Sam’s breathy tone giving him away. “So tight. You love the way my cock fills you up, don’t you?” I push back to meet his thrusts, hoping to get him there quicker, the desire to give him all the pleasure he gave me earlier, overcoming my need for anything else.

“Yeah, you do. Look at you? So desperate. I bet if stopped moving, you’d fuck yourself right on my cock, huh?”

His hand grips my hip tightly, and he pulls me back by my hair. His hand resuming his place around my neck, tightening his grip ever so slightly. Just enough to notice but not enough to restrict my oxygen. His other arm wraps around my middle steadying me for continued thrusts of his hips.

“You have no idea how badly I want that, babygirl. But I’m having too much fun listening to the sounds you make as I fuck you.” He lets out a wicked laugh.

My jaw goes slack, and I bend my body more, allowing him deeper access with every thrust. The new angle driving him into my G-spot, sending me reeling. The intensity builds in my stomach and I know Sam can feel it too. I reach a hand back tangling my hand in the hair gathered at his neck. He slides down, parting my lips and toying with my clit. Small tight circles coax me toward my end. Little by little, unraveling under his fingertips. I clench around his cock, and he knows I’m done for.

“Come on, baby. Give it to me.” The sickly sweet tone of his voice in my ear sends a chill down my spine. I fight against the building pleasure, trying to hold out. My voice carries through the room, mixing with his heavy breath and the sound of our hips snapping together. Everything starts to become too much, and my muscles weaken; my hand falls to join his arm wrapped around me. Sam holds me tighter, keeping me steady against his chest.

“That’s it, baby. Cum on my cock. Do it.” I let go completely, falling over the edge and succumbing to the pleasure of Sam’s cock. I moan out a broken repetition of his name, and he fucks me through my orgasm. I feel so full when he’s inside me like I never want to be anywhere else. He slows his hips, allowing me a moment of reprieve. Our heavy breaths move in unison as we try to calm ourselves. He lays me gently back on my stomach, careful to stay tucked inside. My head resting against the pillow I was sitting on earlier, my skin soothed by the plush blanket. He joins me where I lay, resting half of his weight on me.

“Oh god. Sammy.” I cry out at the feeling of his cock inside my overstimulated cunt as he pulls out to the tip and slides back in again. My hand finds his thigh, nails digging into his skin, and he grunts out. He takes that as a sign to resume full force. His thrusts are hard and fast. Working himself up to meet his own end. His heady breaths against my ear could drive me to another orgasm if my body was capable.

“Oh fuck,” he growls. “I’m gonna cum.” his hips speed up, his pace unforgiving as his own release is in his sights. He holds his breath, and I brace myself, his hips snapping once more and pausing. Buried in me to the hilt, I feel his dick twitch with each spurt of release inside me. We let out a mutual ‘fuck’ as he releases. He teases himself slightly with gentle motions, slowly in and out of my pussy. His cum starts to leak out of me, landing on the blanket below.

When I feel him start to pull out of me fully I beg, “No, no, no. Please.”

“What baby?” He asks, confused.

“Stay. You feel too good.” I whine pathetically. He slides fully off my body to his side, sneaking his arm under my head and pulling me close, spooning me. His cock still tucked pleasantly inside of me.

“Is my little bird gonna warm my cock for me? Huh?”

I hum out an affirmation. “I really fucking needed that.”

“Yeah? You ready for that sauna yet?” He jests. “Little round two in there?” His hand makes its way to my breast, gently rolling my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

I laugh and snuggle in closer to him. “Thinkin’ about it.”

Need more Sam in your life? 🩷

Sparrow Of The Dawn Masterpost 🤭

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mybworlds · 1 month

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Chapter 1: The Mermaid of The Narrow Sea

Title: The Mermaid of the Narrow Sea Pairing: Oberyn Martell x F!Reader (no use of Y/N) Summary: Essos. You are a slave since you were a little girl. One day you are sold to a mysterious man who could be your only chance to escape and be free.

Masterlist Rating: M Series Warnings: Age gap, slavery, violence, blood, death, alcohol use, slow burn, sexism, smut, dom/sub dynamics, rape attempts Extra warnings: there's a vicious brother (oc), Ellaria is a jealous woman in this story.

Before to start... my idea is to twist Oberyn's biography a little bit and intertwine it with the main character's story and what happens in Westeros in the next chapters, so I'm not sure what will come of it. I hope you like this my (new) story.

This is my second story in the Game of Thrones universe, the other is a SanSan, you can find it in my masterlist, I'm a lil afraid to write about Prince Oberyn 'cause I know he's very loved, who doesn't? ;) If you want let me know what you think about.

follow @mybworlds and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Thanks for the dividers @idontgetanysleep

Fire warms your sun-ruined skin, your hair is a shapeless tangled heap, you wear a tunic too small for your body, it's a woman's body now, not a child's.

Your eyes are likened to burning embers especially when you get angry or challenge even with your gaze your masters. You are a slave. You've been a slave since you were a child. Your mother had been captured when you weren't even five, and since then you along with other men, women and slavers have done nothing but roam the eastern continent.

You are a beautiful young woman, your proud look and posture stand out though you are only a slave. For these your qualities, you are called the Mermaid of the Narrow Sea.

People who had enslaved your mother move from place to place, from inland to the shores of the Narrow Sea.

That day you are dragged by those bloody people back to the shores, and on that day the wind blows hard shaking the barren lands overlooking the Sea and shaking the hair of everyone there. You and other women are gathered there by the cliff, all are afraid since they all fear what may happen to them, you don't. You watch raptly as the waves crash on the rocks, then you scan the horizon with a wistful look.

"Soon, very soon we'll see what you are made of," hisses one of the men threateningly in your ear who had also tried in the past to take you by force.

"I'm not afraid." you challenge him by turning your gaze toward the man who raises his hand as if to strike you, but then has second thoughts: hitting you would not scratch you, take that look away, or satisfy him.

"Someday, you damn bitch, someone will tame you," he says grudgingly and then walks away.

"When that day comes, I'll be ready," you whisper, but it's more of a reminder to yourself to never give up and never bend no matter what happens.

You promised to yourself this ever since you witnessed the rape and murder of your mother. Your mother was sold to a prince or king in Westeros, out of the goodness of this prince or king, whoever he was, you were bought too. One evening, however, the man showed in your quarters, your mother, probably sensing what was going to happen, immediately made you hide in a closet filled with sacks of grain, bread and other food making you swear not to go out or be heard for any reason in the world.

When the man was there, you witnessed something that no one should ever see: your mother, the woman who gave birth to you, the woman who loved you, the woman you always saw as your rock, slapped and thrown to the ground and then her screams overpowered by the man's obscene sounds and words.

You closed your eyes and plugged your ears tightly, almost unable to hear after so much you pressed your palms over your ears. When you dared to open your eyes again, you saw the man's sword rise and fall on your mother's neck and blood gushing copiously on the floor, on her clothes and on the man's sword. Your mother choked in her own blood as the man wiped his sword back against the woman's now blood-soaked dress.

When you were able to come out of your hiding place, you found your mother with her eyes wide open in an expression of pure terror painted on her face, from then on you swore to yourself that no one, ever, would touch you, neither a slave nor a merchant nor a king nor a prince.

"She is the Mermaid of the Narrow Sea, gentlemen." you are introduced by a plump man who sells women for a good price in exchange for wine, silk and spices "Beautiful as you can see, she will be able to satisfy your every fantasy, she is an obedient girl who knows her place."

You stare grimly and hard at all the men who stare at you as if you were an animal for slaughter. You see some talking excitedly, others licking their lips as if you were a tasty exotic dish to be put on the table.

"More than Mermaid seems to me to be ready to rip our throats out," someone comments, provoking general hilarity.

"I kill those who provoke me only," you reply venomously bringing down general silence, slaves don't speak, someone hits you from behind causing you to fall to your knees. The men laugh, but this doesn't make you lose your resolve or your hard stare.

You quickly get back on your feet.

People whisper, the plump man tries to sell you in every way, but no one buys you. One of the slavers pulls you away, when you are in a separate place he ties your hands and feet with a very heavy chain, "I should rip that damned tongue out of you!" the man threatens you and then kicks you in the side and walks away. In front of him you didn't react to that gesture, but now that you're alone you squeeze your eyes and moan in pain, you want to see what he did to you, but you can't.

You hide your head between your legs, you don't cry, you never cry, there is no point in crying, you just have to hold on. The day will come when you will be free and you can get rid of these heavy chains.

The next day someone wakes you up with the usual indelicacy and brutality, they release you from the chains and pull you by the arm, "Move, the market has ended and you're staying with us this time too." you don't know if there is disappointment in his tone of voice or what, for you for sure it'll be another terrible trip. You don't know where you will go, but they certainly won't treat you well, they never have. They are not going to start today.

All of you slaves - mostly women - are chained by the wrists, lined up in a row to each other, your slavers are on horseback, only a couple of them on foot and they are there to poke and prod you to walk, not all of you holding their gait. Someone dies under the scorching sun, someone from lack of food and water. Your lips are parched, your eyes burn from the sun and sweat dripping from your forehead, but you don't give up.

Not today.

You keep telling yourself, this is not the day you die.

Slavers stop to unhook the dead bodies and as you others who were further behind are about to stop too, one of the damn ones trips you and part surprise and part lack of food, you fall forward.

"Oh, you've fallen, Mermaid!" he uses that nickname with the tone of someone who wants to taunt you, you look at him angrily "I was hoping you'd be the next to die!" he adds with a venomous grin.

"Instead I'm still here," you say grudgingly, he's about to kick you, but you can't take it anymore, you block the man's foot in midair who falls backward. The anger, the pain, the resentment built up over all those years until now explodes with a force and violence you didn't even think you had: you pounce on the man by sitting on him and start punching him repeatedly in the face, you lose count of how many blows you inflict on him, his face becomes a mask of blood and he screams, screams attract the attention of the other men who grab you by the armpits and pull you away, in pulling you away you kick him in the middle of the legs and making the asshole scream once again.

"Fuck you!" you scream in exasperation.

"Now I'm going to kill that fucking bitch," the man says holding his face and making to get to his feet and reach you, one of his own stands between you and you hear him say "At the next slave market in Meereen we'll get rid of her, you'll see." this doesn't quite convince him because his eyes land on your face still distraught with rage and he tries to reach you again, the second man insists "There someone will heal your wounds and we're going to drink good wine, I know there's a good brothel too, you'll relax and forget about her." maybe this convinces him because he looks at you with less hatred and then he looks at his companion, you see him smile and his interest in you fades.

You can breathe.

"Be careful," a dark-skinned man next to you says, you look at him suspiciously "that guy, Aziz, is a dangerous man," he continues, referring to the man you hit.

"I can take care of myself," you retort looking at him grimly.

He chuckles "I saw, but try to avoid any more shows, you are too young to die." he looks at your face, "I hope that when you are sold because you will be, your master will treat you better than you have lived so far." you lower your head for a moment and find yourself barely bending your lips upward, you have never really smiled, doing is so strange.

The city of Meereen presents itself splendid and imposing to your eyes. It's the largest city you have ever been in up to that point, you walk looking upward and your eyes wide open in wonder although you know why you are there. What strikes you most are massive triangular-shaped structures, they are gigantic, who knows what they are for! You are in a noisy city, deafening almost, everywhere there are people buying and selling, there are goods of all kinds and types, before long it will be your turn again and the poor unfortunate souls like you.

They make you wear a knee-length cream-colored dress, one of the slavers dares to move your hair and you in response bite his hand earning you a slap in the face, it hurts, especially if he has hit you with a hand full of rings, "I sure hope you leave, you insolent fool."

When they have fixed you and made you presentable for sale, you get out of there. You are in chains again and this time you go to a wide open space that is swarming with all kinds of people, from prospective buyers to the merely curious. You keep your head down. Buying and selling is something that has always made you sick and that you have always refused to listen to; you go up on some kind of stage as if you were there to make a spectacle of yourself, you feel a disgust at those pigs selling you and the equally obscene buyers watching you as juicy meat to be put on the table.

"She is the Mermaid of the Narrow Sea," once again you are introduced this way by a huge man who pulls you by the arm beside him to show you to the audience of shoppers. You stare at the many faces, your head spinning, wishing to be left alone, to escape, but...

"I offer 1,000 copper stars," you hear one man shout, "2,000," shouts a second, you move your eyes from corner to corner, then there is an offer that interrupts all possible bids "10,000 gold dragons," everybody's head turns hearing such a sum. You remain breathless, no one had ever bid that much for someone like you, you try to spot the buyer, but he's wearing a hood therefore it's impossible to tell who he is.

"Sold." decrees the man beside you, you are immediately grabbed by the arm by someone else who hisses grudgingly in your ear "Finally, you damn whore, your time has come, now you will know that we were only docile lambs!"

It's Aziz, you look him in the eyes and with an expression full of disgust you tell him "Finally I've ruined that ugly face of yours, you monster!" he's about to hit you, but he's interrupted once again from another man "Stop it, it's none of our business now, go and collect from the buyer and hand it over to him now, it's none of our business anymore." says the second man barely looking at your face.

You and Aziz exchange one last glance, before he finally - and forever - walks away from you, you will never see him again. You hint a smile.

You are free from his obscene look, his stinking breath, his slimy hands. Free.

Free to go to another cage. The smile disappears again.

You are not free at all, you never will be.

The buyer enters the tent, he still has his hood over his head, and only then does he take it off, he's a man maybe in his fifties, or maybe something more, and then you realize that you can no longer escape the violence that has always marked your life and hollowed out your skin, you can never escape, never.

You are always a prisoner.

"I was just sent to buy you, I'm handing you over to your master's brother," is all the elderly man says to you, you can only nod, you are still a cargo.

The man pulls away the curtain and invites you to follow him, invites? Oh, it would be the first time someone has treated you like a person instead of an animal. You obey, you cannot object. Your hands are still tied and then there are too many people, you want to run away, but not now. Not today.

Just a little further on, there is a palanquin on which the man makes you get on and then he gets on as well. You don't speak, he barely looks at you, you are on alert, you don't know what the man's real intentions are, he might attack you, tempt violence, you don't let him out of your sight. You are ready to snap.

The palanquin stops, the man gets out before you and then helps you down. You are... in front of a brothel, you can't believe it, your master has bought you to make you a whore, your lips tremble and you lower your gaze for a moment, "Come." the man says in a sigh, holding you by the arm, you don't have the strength to resist and at the moment not even the strength to run away, even if you wanted to.

You climb the steps of the building and enter, the room stinks and it's dark. You can hear in the distance the unmistakable sounds and moans of sex, laughter, someone sneaks up totally naked in front of the two of you, you widen your eyes frightened, maybe you should start getting used to it, you will stay there now. Your master probably runs the place, maybe he himself will want to first-- you try to restrain yourself from vomiting at the idea, at the horror of that scene.

You wander between the various rooms until you come to a last room to which the elderly man knocks once, twice, three times with his fist as if it were a signal, someone from inside opens and leaves the door open. The elderly man opens the door completely and lets you in as well, "I have brought what your brother wants, my Prince."

"Hand her over to him don't give her to me," says a bored voice from behind, it's a man, looking out the window, he's rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"My Prince, Prince Mors said to give it to you--"

"To spite me!" he exclaims "He knows how I feel about it, and what does he do? He orders you to bring me a slave he wants! Set her free," he sentences again without looking at you, you widen your eyes, not knowing what to expect.

"My Prince, I'm sorry, but your brother..."

The other man sighs, "I know, but if it were up to me, I would free everyone."

"I understand, my Prince, but without slaves there would be no one left to perform certain tasks and chores," the elder continues.

The two of them keep talking as if you are not there with them, you start to think that maybe if you start walking slowly backwards, maybe... at that moment the younger man turns toward you and you don't really know why, but you almost feel like you've been paralyzed by his piercing gaze: your eyes plant themselves in his, you find yourself swallowing without even knowing why, you can't lower your gaze even though in front of that man's you'd like to, his gaze almost seems to want to burn you inside, it's such a strange feeling, so disturbing, you see his lips stretch upward and then you realize that's the end.

You can't move anymore.

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cherrypikkins · 6 months

Text

Here is my contribution to the final prompt from @fe-oc-week! Oct 15 - Endings

With some fake game ending cgs for Kitt :3

No extra lore write-up today! Instead, I've included some sample battle dialogue below the cut. Do enjoy :3

Background generously provided by @damnilovefaerghus

vs transformed Miklan (Conand Tower, White Clouds):

Kitt: "I was hoping it wouldn't come to this… But that's why I'm here."

Kitt: "Listen, Professor. If you can crack its armor, I'll make quick work of it."

Kitt: "But if you want to give your students an impromptu lesson on how to fell a Demonic Beast… I won't object."

If ordered to attack transformed Miklan: Kitt: "Fine, then. Allow me to show you how it's done."

vs Edelgard:

(Battle of Garreg Mach, pre-time skip)

Edelgard: "You and I are not so different, Kitt. I know you wish to be free of the Church's machinations. We might have walked this path together, had you trusted me."

Kitt: "This is rich, coming from the Flame Emperor herself. Your entire reign is built on lies and secrets. I can't trust you any more than I can trust the Church."

Kitt: "And as they say, better the devil you know…"

(Battle at Enbarr, Silver Snow/Verdant Wind)

Kitt: "Edelgard. Let Rhea go. I don't know what you have planned for her, but she and I have a score to settle."

Edelgard: "I am not concerned with vendettas of the ancient past, nor will they have a place in Fodlan's new dawn."

Edelgard: "You of all people should understand what it's like to be powerless, to have all control over your own fate wrested away by the likes of Rhea and her ilk."

Edelgard: "Knowing that, how can you truly wish for her to walk free?"

Kitt: "Because no one deserves to be buried underground, sealed away from the rest of the world and forgotten, left to the mercy of their jailers."

Kitt: "Believe me, I do understand."

(Battle at Enbarr, Azure Moon)

Kitt: "That's quite the transformation, Edelgard. Well done. You've already mastered what I've had to practice in secret for years."

Kitt: "But surely you must know what happens to monsters like you and me. I'll cut you down, same as all the rest.

Hegemon Edelgard: "You are welcome to try."

vs Seteth:

(Battle at Garreg Mach, pre time-skip, Crimson Flower)

Seteth: "Of all people, I thought you would have learned not to repeat the mistakes of the past."

Seteth: "Stand down, lest I be forced to repeat some mistakes of my own."

Kitt: "Seteth. Didn't you promise long ago that the people of Annwen would suffer no harm under your protection?"

Kitt: "I've been meaning to talk to you about that. But for now, it looks like we'll have to fight each other instead."

(Battle at Garreg Mach, post time-skip, Crimson Flower)

Kitt: "Hello, Seteth. You've quite the nerve to show your face around here."

Seteth: "You took the words out of my mouth."

Seteth: "To think, after everything we've tried to do for you, you would once again betray our trust and bear teeth against your own family."

Kitt: "Ha. You're one to talk about trust or family. Even that kid you called 'sister' was getting tired of your never-ending charade."

Seteth: "You will not drag Flayn into this! No matter who you are, know that I will destroy you to safeguard her if I must!"

Kitt: "Then you should have thought about that before bringing her here."

(If Kitt defeats Seteth)

Kitt: "Take Flayn and leave Garreg Mach - now - before I end your life. This is the only chance I'm giving you. I suggest you take it."

Seteth: "I… I understand. We will not meet again."

Seteth: "Regardless of everything else… I am grateful for your mercy. It is certainly more than we have shown you, and more than either of us deserve."

Kitt: "Don't come back."

vs Flayn:

(Battle at Garreg Mach, pre time-skip, Crimson Flower)

Flayn: "Kitt, what are you doing? You cannot truly mean to fight us! We're your family!"

Kitt: "You and I seem to have wildly different ideas about how this 'family' is supposed to work."

Kitt: "For example, if you get to call Seteth 'brother'… where does that leave me?"

Flayn: "I… That's not…"

Kitt: "Not what? Not fair?"

Kitt: "I'll tell you what else isn't fair - being treated like some lost broken toy you can fix and heal until I'm good as new. Better than new. Until there's nothing left of the old me."

Kitt: "Why couldn't you just let me stay asleep forever?"

(Battle at Garreg Mach, post time-skip, Crimson Flower)

Flayn: "Why are you doing this, Kitt?"

Kitt: "Not one step closer, Flayn."

Flayn: "Tell me, I beg of you! I wish only to understand! In what way have I done you wrong? What must I do to make amends?"

Kitt: "Enough! I know you only have the best wishes at heart, but I won't serve as a vessel for your good intentions."

Kitt: "And unlike you, I refuse to spend the rest of my life hiding behind a web of lies and secrets."

Flayn: "Kitt… I know not what to say. To think that it should come to this…"

(If Kitt defeats Flayn)

Kitt: "Find your father and go. Leave this place and never come back."

Flayn: "I… Yes. I will do as you say."

Flayn: "I wish you nothing but happiness for the rest of your days. Good-bye, Kitt."

Kitt: "…Good-bye, Flayn."

vs Rhea:

(Final Battle, Silver Snow)

Kitt: "This is just like what happened at Annwen… and the day I was struck down."

Kitt: "Rhea. This disaster is of your own making. But to suffer like this is too much for anyone to bear - even you."

Kitt: "Like all the beasts I've felled before, I'll put an end to your pain."

(Battle at Garreg Mach, pre-time skip, Crimson Flower)

Rhea: "I see you are determined stand against me here once more, after all the mercy I've shown you, after every second chance I've given. You truly are the capricious one, aren't you?"

Kitt: "I discarded that name long ago. It's just Kitt now."

(Battle at Tailtean, Crimson Flower)

Seiros: "You. I know what you are. I've seen your true face, for it has haunted me since that day I struck you down."

Seiros: "I did everything in my power to make amends, to restore you to full glory, just like she bade me. And yet once more, I must destroy you where you stand."

Kitt: "You still haven't figured it out, have you? She set you up with an impossible task. It was never in your power to reverse the deeds of the past."

Kitt: "No matter how hard you try, some things can never be fixed, nor healed, nor restored to what they once were. She was trying to teach you a lesson."

Kitt: "But it's fine. I've moved on from that. And so can you."

Seiros: "You know I cannot. I was never as quick to change as you are. Nor will I stop trying to bring her back, even if you are determined to betray her memory time and time again."

(Battle of Fhirdiad, Crimson Flower)

The Immaculate One: "You! Miserable, conniving serpent who dares hide itself among the flock!"

The Immaculate One: "You are not worthy of her blessing! Not worthy of her blood! I should have sealed you in your own grave while I had the chance!"

Kitt: "Yes, you should have. But don't be sad. The moment you're gone from this world, I won't be far behind."

As enemy, if not recruited:

(Battle at Garreg Mach, post-time skip, Crimson Flower, if Kitt not recruited)

Kitt: "It's a shame we can't catch up, for old time's sake. Too bad I must ask you to move."

Kitt: "…Or by all means, keep on testing me. You're not going to like what happens next, and neither am I."

If defeated:

Kitt: "Into the dark, once more. Maybe this time…forever."

vs Byleth:

(Battle at Garreg Mach, post-time skip, Crimson Flower, if Kitt not recruited)

Kitt: "Professor. Did I ever tell you? How much you remind me of someone I once knew?"

Kitt: "Long ago, she told me that the moment I've decided who my people are, I must fight to protect them with everything I have. Even if it means defying the Goddess herself."

Kitt: "…I suppose you don't know or remember, do you? Yet here you are, following in her example, just as I am doing now."

TWISTD Members:

vs Solon

(Remire Village)

Kitt: "I should have known it was you. You're the one who started all this. First my village, and now…Remire."

Solon: "So now you know who I am, Ghost of Annwen. But if you think I'm but simple prey for you to hunt down, you are gravely mistaken!"

(Sealed Forest)

Solon: "Take not one step closer, Demon of Annwen! Lest your weakness for these beasts prove your undoing!"

Kitt: "What's the matter, Tomas? I thought you always dreamed of finding out how the story ends."

vs Kronya

Kronya: "You don't scare me. You're nothing but a stupid ghost story! I'll send you back to the filthy grave you crawled up from, you little freak!"

Kitt: "So you've heard of me from your darling bedtime stories. I guess I won't have to explain what happens to you next."

vs Cornelia

Cornelia: "Well now. This really won't do. I'll have to put an end to you quickly."

Kitt: "And I'll be sure to end you slowly."

vs Thales

Thales: "You insatiable wretch! That you would choose to menace me now, here, of all places!"

Kitt: "Don't look so shocked. I did promise I'd be back for the rest of you, didn't I?"

#fe3h oc #fe3h #edelgard #seteth #flayn #fire emblem three houses #fe oc week #fe-oc-week

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in-a-mountain-pool · 5 months

Text

The Dragon Boy - Chapter One

Aemond x Fem!Dragonseed OC Kaelys Waters

pronouns: She/her (afab)

rating: Teen and Up Audiences

warnings: Angst, Romance, Major Character Death

word count: ~3600+

summary: Chaos unfolds after the battle at the Gods Eye. After his defeat, Prince Aemond Targaryen is declared dead, laying at the bottom of the great lake. Upon hearing the news, Kaelys Waters, a Dragonseed from Aemond’s past defects from the Blacks, and stumbles upon a mysterious enigmatic dragon with a broken wing. Tending to its wounds and reminiscing of her childhood infatuation, she mourns the passing of the Prince Regent. Love deepens amid a whirlwind of emotions, culminating in a heart-warming tale of love transcending magic and curses, uniting two souls against all odds.

Originally posted on AO3

A/N: Hi everyone! Here it is, this is my submission for @hotd-bigbang! I'd like to give a huge thank you to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for putting together this wonderful event, and for being so understanding of my chaotic writing process! It was an absolute pleasure getting to work with @cyeco13 , who has produced some of the most gorgeous artwork for this story (I literally teared up opening her messages!), thank you so much for capturing Aemond and Kaelys so perfectly.

Thanks for reading! To begin with, this was intended to be a one-shot but due to some circumstances beyond my control, I have decided to break it up into two chapters. Chapter two will be posted this time next week!

As always likes, reblogs and comments are not a requirement, but lovely to come online to.

The nights were cold in the Dragonpit, without the loving embrace of a mother or a father to shield you from the harsh land of Westeros, where frigid winds would pierce through like icy daggers. You had been there as long as you could remember, your earliest memories buried under years of neglect, left outside the pit in nothing but a tattered moth-eaten shawl. In a twist of fate, the Dragonkeepers had taken you under their wing, the first girl in history to be welcomed into the ancient order of guards.

You, a nameless orphan, were christened Kaelys, and raised as their own. But life had been hard and food scarce. Amidst crumbling stones of the pit, life was a relentless test of your mettle, a crucible of endurance. As the only girl, the other boys of the order would revel in their power and torment you relentlessly. They were the bane of your life, their taunts and physical assaults a painful reminder of the harsh realities that defined your existence.

In the dead of night, when the hunger had finally become unbearable, on stumbling feet you’d crept into the Red Keep, hugging the stone walls, searching for a scrap of whatever you could find. Within the fortress, an eerie stillness reigned supreme, a collective hush falling over the walls as if a great secret dwelled inside. Company was sparse this late at night, save for the sporadic appearance of a Goldcloak on patrol. During your tutelage you had mastered the art of silence, moving with a grace so profound that even the most vigilant of men might mistake you for a shadow in the night. You’d had to, growing up around the majestic and terrible beasts of the House Targaryen.

The only light you had seen in the imposing halls had been a small crack under a great set of wooden doors and the smell of old parchment. Curiosity got the better of you, and you gently pushed forward to take a peek…

Inside was a small boy with silver hair, a boy you recognised…

It was him.

The boy without a dragon.

Prince Aemond Targaryen.

When the door creaked your heart froze as the child whipped his head around with an almost otherworldly reflex.

Aemond stared at you for a moment, his head tilted over slightly to the side. The boy's violet eyes held a quiet curiosity, gazing at you in the same manner you’d seen him study the dragons inside the pit.

In a small yet commanding voice, he called out to you, standing up slowly from his solar.

“... Who goes there…? What might your name be, girl?”

Not a word left your lips, your face panic-stricken and pale as the moonlight creeping through the bay windows of the library.

A quiet but exasperated huff left his cat-like mouth, and a look of dissatisfaction decorated his delicate features.

“That’s not very polite, is it? You should at least tell me your name. I promise, I won’t tell on you.”

Aemond attempted to make eye contact with you to no avail, met with a wall of silence. A soft scowl fell over his face, like he’d perhaps thought something might be wrong with you. Or like you were a puzzle that he wished to solve.

Finding your courage you shifted out of the shadows, eyes searching the halls around you for the slightest movement in the dark.

“... Kaelys, My Prince. ‘My name is Kaelys.” You croak out in a pathetic tone, giving a rather poor curtsey, copying the movements you’d seen his sister, the Princess Helaena practice to the knights at the tourney months earlier.

You wobble slightly as you ascend from the floor, the scrap of your dress hem catching under your sandaled foot.

The boy smiled and chuckled before you, nodding with a little grin like he’d finally made some progress. His curiosities were still present as he beckoned you into the warm library and eagerly offered you a seat beside him.

“Well, good evening, Kaelys. … Why, if I might ask, are you here in the Keep, all alone?” Aemond whispered, leaning forward to inspect you.

“... ‘was hungry, my Prince. P-please, don’t call the guards. I’ll leave quietly. Quiet as a mouse! ‘Won’t even know I was ‘ere!” You uttered fearfully, your hazel eyes locked to his, begging him silently.

Lilac eyes widened and peered into yours once more.

“Hungry…?” Aemond asked, like such a thing was unthinkable to him, brought up amongst such riches. After a moment, his eyes fluttered and his bottom lip trembled.

“I won’t call anyone. No Guards. C-Come with me.” Aemond extended a pale shaking hand to you, waiting for you to take it.

“T-The kitchens should have some supper for you. I’d certainly be more comfortable with you not being out here… all alone in these halls.”

“Kitchens?! I- can’t! If I’m seen there I’ll get the lashing of a lifetime!” You whispered frantically, staring down at the boy’s hand, elegant fingers reaching out to you.

How could you touch him? It felt wrong when you were so grubby and dirty, to mar something so fair and beautiful as him, like you might leave an immovable stain on his perfect skin.

The words tumbled out in a way most unnatural to you. What was it about this boy, a Prince no less, that made you feel you could trust him? You seldom ever spoke, not even to your mentors. You had only ever felt safe with your dragons.

“T'aint proper. The Dragonkeepers stay in the pit. We eat in the pit. Sleep in the pit. I’m… not a Lady. Not Royalty.” You mumble, gesturing to him and looking down at his velvet boots next to your dirty feet, remembering your place.

Not once did he ever lower his hand, almost as if he was trying to tame you like a wild animal, like one of his family’s dragons in the pit. He approached you with caution, but with an unmistakable respect and patience that made your heart anxious.

“Kaelys…? Do you have any place to rest your head at night?” Aemond questioned you in a gentle tone, peering into your tired eyes. “Does someone look after you?”

“Mother and Father are dead. Left me outside the Keep. Dragonkeepers feed me, but… we’re often hungry.”

Aemond seemed stunned into silence. The realisation that the tiny girl in front of him, of no more than 12 years, was alone. Truly alone. The longer he was silent, the more uncomfortable he became. The thought that a girl, so young and vulnerable, had already lost everything she’d ever had or could ever hope to own. She’d never really had a chance, and it just wasn't right.

The boy straightened up and stood taller, a determined resolute look in his pointed features.

“You’re coming with me. And before you say another word, I’m not going to tell on you. In fact, I won’t tell anyone. Not a soul.” His tone had changed, much softer and caring than it had been moments before.

You had heard stories about the young prince. He was lonely, and studious, the polar opposite of his raucous brother, Aegon. Perhaps he had just wanted a friend? Underneath the silver hair and the riches of his house, he was a lanky sort of boy, on the cusp of something greater than himself. So unsure, and so desperate to connect.

Ever so cautiously, you reached out to take his hand in yours. Next to him, your hand looked so careworn and grubby, unworthy. He saw the dirt under your fingernails, and the weeks of grime on your dress, yet he never faltered in his grip as he discreetly led you deeper into the Keep along lonely corridors to his chambers.

Once inside you couldn’t believe your eyes. You’d never seen such grandeur, the table filled with foods from all over Westeros, and all for the supper of one boy. There were meats piled high, roasted beef and potatoes, boiled vegetables and breads. Decadent sweets glistened in the candlelight, with mounds of delicate lemoncakes, sugared biscuits and candied fruits.

His room was filled with treasures and trinkets from all over Westeros and Essos. A dothraki sword adorned the wall above his bed, and a coin collection was scattered across his bed, with gold, silver and coppers of all shapes and sizes dotted about like stars upon his midnight blue blankets. Large shells almost as big as your head decorated a large desk near the balcony desk. You’d later discover they had been taken from a bay in Volantis by his Father, and he’d been drawing them in a notepad. Marble carved dragons were placed in order of size along his mantle, with random shards of dragon glass decorating his chaotic but organised desk. But best of all was a worn plush of Balerion the Black Dread, shoved underneath his pillow, sewn by his wet nurse when he was a child.

As Aemond stepped inside, he reluctantly set down your hand, keeping a gentle eye on your expression. Your eyes were wide with wonder taking in the lavish food he readily offered you like it was nothing.

“... D-Don’t worry, Kaelys. That food is mine, mine to give you. Made by the finest cooks in the Keep.” Stumbling a little, he stepped behind you, and it took you a moment to realise that he intended to pull a chair for you to sit on.

Almost like he would a real Lady.

“Here. We- we can eat together, if you like? Like friends do.”

Slowly he started to make up a generous plate for you, with a selection of meats and vegetables to give you back your strength. With a shaking hand, he placed it in front of you, nodding and digging into his own.

Through a mouthful of food you finally start to speak once more, stealing timid glances at the young Prince..

“... Friends? D- Do you have many friends… that you play with?”

A heavy silence fell upon the room as the boy drew into himself for a long while, the only noises the clatter of silverware and the late drafts of the night. Aemond spoke in a careful manner as to try to not let his feelings betray him. His voice began to break and the awkwardness began to seep out of him, reminding you he was just an adolescent boy, with the weight of a dynasty upon his shoulders.

“No… I rather suppose I don’t. In truth, It is… hard for me to make them.”

You felt a deep need to reach out and support him, or to at least make him feel less alone, the boy who’d let you into his world.

“Me too. I don't have any friends neither.” You whisper, brushing the pad of your index finger against the back of his hand… And then rather unexpectedly, Aemond laughed, making you retreat once more.

“Either… You don't have any friends, either.” He chuckled again, covering his cat-like smirk with his fingers.

Sensing your displeasure and discomfort he gave you a soft look and pushed a lemon cake towards your plate, resting his chin on his hand as he studied you. He watched you for a while, as you picked at the crystallised peel in awe, giggling when your face puckered at the foreign sour sensation of the citrus in your cheeks.

Your eyes danced around the room as you ate, falling upon the small collection of little wooden knights left haphazardly before the roaring fire. You didn’t have any toys. You hadn’t ever been allowed to be a child.

“Would you- would you like to play with them? I can teach you all about my knights!”

Aemond's face lit up with unabashed excitement, youthful enthusiasm radiating from his every pore as he eagerly settled onto the floor beside the knights. In that moment, his age became evident in the meticulous grace with which he handled the toys, delicately extending them towards her, all the while tenderly bestowing each with a name. The boy spoke passionately, more animatedly than she had ever seen him in the dragon pit.

“This here is Aegon the Conqueror. Do you see? Each knight has their own dragon, and they ride together into war.”

As Aemond rambled on passionately , you couldn't help but find yourself joining him there in the warmth of the fire, legs crossed and shyly tracing the beautiful handmade figurines like they were made of glass.

“... She is beautiful. The big one.” You gesture bashfully, a rare smile gracing your face as he offers you the wooden toy. “... Vhagar.”

Aemond’s eyes widened, aglow with an innocence and wonder only a child’s eyes could muster.

“Yes! You know of Vhagar? And do you know why she is so special?

“She’s the oldest dragon in the whole world.” You say almost instantly, staring at the wooden dragon in admiration. “She was Queen Visenya’s dragon.”

Aemond’s eyes flickered with a glimmer of surprise, as if your knowledge of Vhagar had caught him off-guard.

“Yes, she was!” He admitted, his words imbued with a quiet reverence. “She still soars above our world to this day, a testament to her indomitable spirit. And, you know, one day, I’m going to be the one to mount her and take to the skies.”

Aemond'sAemonds gaze fixed on you, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, as if he had entrusted you with a treasure trove of secrets known only to a select few.

“... Do you want to know another secret?” The boy asked with a small grin on his face, handing you yet another dragon.

Aemond drew in a deep breath, and his face lit up with a soft blush as he spoke the next words.

"I have a special wish, you know," he confided, his eyes locked onto Kaelys, eager to gauge her response. A hint of uncertainty lingered in his gaze, but his sincerity shone through.

"I want more than just a dragon, Kaelys. I want you to be my best friend."

And with that declaration, a unique bond was sealed. From that day forward, together you had embarked on clandestine adventures within the labyrinthine walls of the Red Keep, where you uncovered hidden nooks to play and whisper secrets to one another. Conversations had spanned countless hours, a symphony of dragon tales, and epic tales of knights and princesses that seemed to breathe life into the ancient stones of the castle and the dragon pit.

In each other, you had found your first and only true friends, kindred spirits divided by society. And when he’d finally claimed Vhagar, she had become your whole life, bringing you both even closer together.

He’d shown you what it meant to have a family.

… But if only you had known then, the horrors that would soon come to pass, dressed in colours of green, gold and black.

War had come to Westeros.

It had felt like the end of days, a tragedy painted with vicious strokes of fire and blood. The very ground beneath your feet had shaken, the winds had howled as dragons danced above the skies of the Riverlands in violent flashes of greens and reds, and clashes of razor sharp teeth. Brothers and sisters rode into war for a cause that no longer made sense, as kin marched upon kin, and dragons raged against dragons. History was dying, old magic was fading, all because one man, one King, had made a choice born from love.

But how could love ever endure in a world such as this? How could you fight for a Queen who ordered the death of an innocent child? Or a King that paraded the head of such a gracious beast as Meleys through the streets of Flea Bottom? How could hope live on here at the end of all things, where flames paint the skies, and babes were torn from their mother's arms?

… Helaena’s arms.

Since you’d heard the news from the other Dragonseeds’ on the battlefield you wouldn’t dare speak his name out loud. Bile would rise in your throat at the mere mention of him, the One-Eyed Prince, the Kinslayer, all of these names they’d given him, to the boy with violet eyes who’d captured your heart all those years ago.

He had met with his Uncle, your Mentor, above the God’s Eye only a week before. The village folk spoke of a fierce battle, with dragonfire so hot and so ferocious it was like the sky itself had been set aflame, and the Doom of Valyria had raged once more. The two beautiful beasts were said to have torn each other apart, Caraxes the Blood Wyrm sinking her teeth into Vhagar’s neck, before being disembowelled and crashing into the great lake below.

He, had always been so careful, even as a child, it was no wonder he’d chained himself so securely to the saddle. Daemon had known this and used it to his advantage. It had been you who had told Daemon so, you who had taught him how to tie the chains to keep him safe. Neither man nor dragon could have survived such a fall. Even a Targaryen Prince.

And now he was gone, it had felt like you might as well have drowned with him there in the God’s Eye. When your tears had fallen, you had insisted you had cried for Daemon, though the others who truly knew you had known better.

The smell of the summer flowers in the Godswood had filled your dreams, the sounds of children’s laughter, the warmth of his hand in yours. Braiding hair as white as snow, the flash of lilac in the candlelight of the Red Keep at night. Since you’d departed for Harenhal as a Dragonseed of the Black’s, you’d carried a piece of him in the pocket of your riding jacket, a small wooden carving of Vhagar he’d had made just for you. Every night you’d gripped it tight and wept for the loss of her… and her rider.

For you, the war was over. There was nothing left to fight for.

No one left to protect.

Under the moonlit sky, you rode through the darkness, leaving behind the tumultuous Black's encampment. The biting cold couldn't compare to the numbness that gripped your heart. The horse beneath you felt unfamiliar, its warmth offering no solace compared to the fiery passion and adventure that once accompanied your dragon, Bhaesys.

The battlefield had claimed her, just as it had claimed Vhagar and him.

Daemon, the architect of destruction, had torn apart not only your dragon but also your life, leaving the House of the Dragon in ruins and the land scarred with suffering.

With no clear destination in mind, you rode relentlessly for nearly a month, only to find yourself at the God's Eye. The vast expanse of tranquil waters reflected the sun's rays, masking the grim reality that all was not well in the world. Despite its majestic appearance, the God's Eye was a tomb, a silent witness to the ravages of war.

It became evident that you couldn't bear the weight any longer—the months of conflict, the years of hardship and camaraderie. Your love for him hit you with an intensity that felt like a physical blow to the gut.

He was gone, forever.

The memories flooded your mind—the sound of his voice, the echoes of laughter in the Red Keep's libraries, the sparkle in his violet eyes as you soared through the skies together.

Violent screams, unrecognisable even to yourself, reverberated across the still lake. Tears streamed down your face as you collapsed to your knees at the water's edge. Nettle's words echoed like a death knell, the cruel truth seeping into your soul:

"They couldn't retrieve a body."

He would never receive the burial befitting his noble lineage, never rest in the Great Sept with his ancestors.

Clutching the small wooden carving of Vhagar, you gripped it so tightly that it pierced your skin. Anything to distract from the sharp, agonising emptiness in your chest. The God's Eye, once a place of beauty, now mirrored the desolation within you—a stark reminder of the irreparable loss that had befallen your world.

It was night before you could wretch yourself away from the water’s edge, taking refuge in a large cave in the woods nearby, overlooking the Isle of Faces. Stepping into its deep interior, you were met with a pervasive dampness and bitter cold that clung to the air, accompanied by a low, wispy draft that whispered tales of undiscovered mysteries, cautioning against the disturbance of ancient stones better left untouched.

Guided by an inexplicable force that seemed to emanate from the recesses of your very heart, your feet carried you further into the cavern's depths. The very essence of the cave resonated with age and magic, invoking echoes of legends that spoke of the Children of the Forest and ancient tales of the First Men that had woven themselves into the fabric of these lands.

As you delved deeper, the surroundings cloaked you in an intensifying darkness, each step marked by the crumbling of wet gravel beneath your feet. Until suddenly, a strange warmth in the air began to prickle at your skin, humid and dank in a way that clung to you.

This was no ordinary hollow.

The pervading silence, almost otherworldly in its nature, gave way to an unsettling deep rumbling that resonated through the core of the earth beneath your feet. Turning a corner, the growling intensified, growing deeper and louder until a sudden realisation dawned upon you - a recognition etched in the core of your being.

The feeling was unmistakable, a sensation so familiar to you from a lifetime spent in the depths of the Dragon Pit.

Awe and trepidation mingled as the truth unfolded…

You stood in the majestic presence of a dragon.

#aemond targaryen #Aemond x oc #aemond targaryen x oc #fics by me #hotd #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd angst #ewan mitchell #Aemond Targaryen x You

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hikari-ni-naritai · 4 months

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emily's oc masterpost

your quick and easy guide to my various girlies. to be updated as i inevitably make up more Women.

my characters are spawned from 2 sources: ff14 and d&d. my eventual goal is to make girls for every spellcasting class, but we're not quite there yet. some of these girls can be adapted to other settings and systems, but some are too specific. section titles link to my tags for that character. you can also see posts referencing multiple ocs in this tag

Hikari Ni'naritai (aka hikari finalfantasy, my ff14 main)

25, 5'4", cis, aroace, moon miqote

hikari is my most developed girl for obvious reasons. a former conscript of the garlean military in othard, hikari changed her name and defected to eorzea in an attempt to escape her vicious past. if youre not familiar with japanese, 'hikari ni naritai' translates to 'i want to become light', and she's made this a personal creed. her story after defecting follows the events of the game pretty closely, though her meteoric rise to the status of Hero did untold damage to her mental health. her favorite things include fighting, sugary sweets, costuming, and fishing. she started adventuring as a mage, but shes too stupid to cast spells and is much more comfortable in a physical role. her primary driving force is her need to be a perfect, shining example of infallible heroism, and her secondary motivation is redeeming her enemies, because as the worst person to ever walk the earth, she has to believe that everyone can change so she can believe in her own change.

Aoi Furukane (ff14)

28, [height to be updated, shes shorter tho], cis, bisexual polyamorous, au ra

aoi is hikari's normie friend! they met on the ship to vesper bay, separated when aoi continued to limsa, but met back up again later. aoi left a comfortable life in kugane to go where the wind takes her, which happened to be adventuring in eorzea. she was present with hikari through stormblood, but didnt take part in shadowbringers, and now serves in a more supportive role as hikari's problems become more and more world-threatening. she'll probably go to the new world with her for dawntrail though. even when shes not involved though, aoi serves as hikari's confidant and closest friend. she was the first to learn about her past and often lends an ear to her depressed ramblings. aoi's a mage and a healer. her hobbies include scrapbooking, crochet, wearing leather jackets, and helping cid finalfantasy test fucked up motorcycles. i never thought id say this about a character before it became obvious but i imagine her in a relationship with aymeric. she'll probably pick up others but i havent finished playing through the game with her yet so idk who she vibes with besides him.

Euthalia "Lia" Pontikos (D&D Lore Mastery Wizard)

1024, 6', cis, pansexual aromantic, elf

Lia is a monument to my hubris. she is the epitome of what i believe a wizard is. lia is an elf who has exactly two hobbies: studying magic and having weird polymorph sex. she's always looking for new knowledge and experiences, but she has trouble forming connections with others and doesnt emote well. after pioneering and mastering magic as an adventurer, lia grew bored and developed a spell to travel to a different random universe, where she would be able to study the magic there from scratch. she's repeated this process numerous times, visiting a number of worlds and developing a minor interest in cataloguing curious similarities between worlds, until she landed on a world that didn't have magic. luckily, it was technologically advanced enough for her to get a job working on warp speed space travel, and she stole their prototype ship to escape that universe in a desperate gamble. she's now spent the last 500 or so years searching for a way to gain some kind of inborn magic to use in case of similar emergencies. she hasnt managed it yet.

Anestesia "Nest" Blackmoor (D&D Eldritch Knight)

17, 5'7", girl-adjacent (she/they), demisexual lesbian, human

Nest is the daughter of two particularly shitty nobles. Due to their poor behavior as a child, their parents sent them to a remote boarding school to learn proper decorum. this did not work, obviously. they often snuck out to play with a family of orcs they found while exploring the woods around the school, where they learned to fight. nest's primary hobby is getting into unnecessary fist fights, and their second hobby is protecting girls. occasionally these goals align but mostly they just like fighting. surprisingly, nest is actually smart, and they picked up a baseline level of magic at school, which theyve been working to incorporate with their swordplay. nest is still figuring out their sexuality but im sure if they find a girl to protect, that will sort itself out pretty quick.

Violet (D&D Clockwork Soul Sorcerer)

real age ???, physical age 14, 4'8", Girl Presumably, aroace also shes 14 chill, human?

violet's one of the girls who requires a specific setting to work. she was a mid-tier modron in Mechanus in the service of the god of order Primus. modrons can be promoted from one tier to a higher tier when a spot needs filled, and by a similar process violet was 'promoted' to a human, as a sort of experiment to see if order could be restored to the material plane in this way. however, between the confusion of the human experience and her lack of clear orders (she was simply ordered to Increase Order), violet was a failure. she woke up in a dark bedroom, so she put everything in the room in alphabetical order and left through the window, where she walked due north until she luckily came to a city with a temple to primus in it. a worker there named Enba (created by @neurodecadence) took pity on her and allowed her to stay, where she was given a name and earned her keep organising the library every day. after a year, she felt the presence of her god leave her and realised she somehow misunderstood their directions. now she is searching for a new way to bring Order. violet has a curious interest in fashion, though she doesnt understand it at all. she's colourblind. she reorganises her things every day, with different sorting methods. she gives off the air of something very obviously trying to imitate a human girl, but in a cute way rather than an unsettling way.

Valyrie (D&D Vengeance Paladin)

35, 6'3", trans woman, demisexual lesbian, half-elf

valyrie was orphaned when her hometown was burned down. she was rescued by a priestess of a temple and taken in, where she was raised as a holy assassin. she's a proper follower of the god they worship, but her duties to the church come second to her quest for vengeance against the person who destroyed her home and family. officially, her title is Priestess, and she introduces herself as such, but she prefers to wear a priest's outfit. she likes the pants. she keeps most of her body covered to hide her burn scars. valyrie is a dex-based build and her physique is most similar to a starved child stretched on a torture rack. she rarely smiles because her smile scares children. she's soft-spoken but firm. she could sneak a knife into a public bath.

Doctor Anarcha "Ann" Marion (D&D Theurgy Wizard)

30, 5'6", cis, lesbian, human

Ann Marion got her medical license revoked for performing experimental healing magic on a patient, resulting in his death. the patient was doomed anyway, and she only did it as a last resort, but it was determined that the pain experienced by the patient caused him to go into shock, accelerating his death and therefore placing the blame firmly on Dr. Marion. despite the class's roots as a 'wizard with ties to a god', dr marion is more attempting to replicate divine acts through intellectual arcane means. she rejects the gods for creating humanity to be so eminently fallible and murderable. her goal is to overcome death and evil through advanced medical technology. she has since completed her work on her healing spell (including an anesthetic preparation) and continues to experiment with more advanced healing. in its early stages, dr marion's healing spells would leave a visible herringbone-pattern scar, but she's perfected it now. she has several of those scars on left her arm from where she practiced on herself. she has a pet adder that she's modified to replace its venom with healing potion. her primary combat spells are for healing, but she does also work with necrotic spells, poisons, and diseases for damage.

Cassidy (D&D Fey Wanderer Ranger)

32, 5'11", trans woman, lesbian, half-elf

cassidy comes from a very large family. her parents are a legendary 5-member adventuring-party-turned-polycule who've spawned a catastrophic number of exceptional children. each of her dozens of older siblings are independently famous or powerful in some way, including her identical twin brother. cassidy took a more mellow path in life and got married. unfortunately, her wife died in childbirth, and cassidy did not deal with it well. she left their child with her wife's parents and went off to try and find herself adventuring, even though she knows she'll never live up to her family's reputation and skills. she is so tired.

Lady Adela, Witch of the Veil (D&D Peace Domain Cleric)

???, 7', cis, aromantic lesbian, erstwhile elf

Lady Adela is the rotting corpse of an ancient evil reanimated by a god of peace and forced to serve. she hates this so so much. she once subjugated the world as the dreaded Witch of the Veil, leading terrible armies against the forces of good and laying waste to whole cities with a single wave of her staff or swing of her blade. now, adela is forced to do good deeds and protect others under penalty of death. she cannot even suggest violence. as such, she relishes any opportunity to kill afforded to her by her work as an adventurer. her primary goal is to reclaim the relics of her ascension from the old days (her Veil, her Blade, and her Staff) so she can break the god's hold on her and resume her quest of world domination. critically, this will not work.

Elyria (D&D Arcane Trickster Rogue)

23, 5'3", cis (derogatory), bisexual, human

Elyria is an annoying nightmare of a woman who shows up in a number of universes and has been noted by Lia as a 'curious and irritating multiversal semiconstant'. she's an accomplished and deadly assassin with a fanatical obsession with the holiest god she can find in whatever universe has spawned her. she dedicates all her kills to the god she worships and claims her arcane tricks are divine magic granted to her because she is a holy servant of the lord. she frequently uses a nun's habit as a disguise for her work, and she also uses it to indulge in her nun kink. sometimes these two goals intertwine. its her greatest joy to defile the divine with her earnest, misguided worship. whatever god she worships hates her so so much and wants her dead. despite intelligence being her spellcasting ability, i think its her dump stat. shes dumb as hell.

étoile (D&D Undying Patron Warlock, Pact of the Tome)

???, 3', sexless girl, aroace, doll

étoile was created by a mad wizard in the throes of apotheostic euphoria as a tool through which she could maintain a connection to the material world as she ascended to godhood. She can't speak, but she's able to communicate concepts and feelings telepathically. She's not shy per se, but she takes a while to open up to others and doesn't readily offer information about herself. But once she's more comfortable, she's very open about what she wants and how she feels, in her own way. If she likes you, she'll let you write your name in her Cursed Book so she can write messages into your brain or maybe save your life. The wizard god IS potentially watching everything through her eyes, but it's impossible to know when, and étoile wouldn't have told you anyway.

Caroline Miller (D&D College of Lore Bard)

23, 5'5", cis, we'll call her "bicurious", human

Caroline Miller is a normal girl with no problems. She grew up as the middle child (of 5) in a loving family who ran the mill in a midsized rural community. She's very friendly and quick to pick up on others' emotions. She decided to become an adventurer because of a local coming-of-age tradition wherein the mayor, an amateur diviner, foretold that she would make an excellent adventurer. She attended some local seminars on adventuring basics before moving to the city to intern with an established party and get some hands-on experience. With her natural charisma and familiarity with the family lute, she took on the mantle of Bard. At the end of her internship, she celebrated by getting drunk with her party and dying a streak of her hair pink. Now she's looking for a party to call her own.

Robin (Soul bound to Weapon possessing a Body)

???, 5'10", cis, lesbian, looks human at least

Robin is the closest thing I have to a universal game avatar. She began as an NPC in my DnD game, but I've created her in Monster Hunter and Bloodborne and will continue creating her in any action game that lets me. She was created initially as an excuse to have a scythe-wielding character in my game despite scythes being extremely unwieldy, so her general lore is that a powerful wizard bound her soul to a scythe, and then some other more kind wizard created a body she would be able to possess so she could pass as human. Unfortunately, since she needs to maintain contact with the body to possess it, she's had to learn to wield herself as an effective weapon. The exact weapon she's bound to changes from game to game, and her canon is more fluid than most of my other OCs to allow her to fit other settings. She's a generally carefree woman who loves adventure and fighting, and she doesn't tend to think too deeply about anything. Her Monster Hunter incarnation specifically is a chaser.

#ocposting

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katethewriter · 2 years

Text

Meet the Fam!

Summary: Natasha and Wanda have 8 children, and they love them all 25/8. 25 hours a day/8 days a week. This is an introduction to the series and this family.

Pairing: Wanda x Natasha, parents!WandaNat x daughter!reader

Words: 5.5k~

Warnings: NON CANON AU, mentions of child abuse, child neglect, and child abandonment, a very sick baby girl, emergency birth, I get a little long winded, but what’s new?

Not really a warning, just a heads up: This series obviously has A LOT of original characters, specifically child original characters. If oc’s aren’t really your thing, this one may not be for you.

Let me know if I missed some!

A/N: I had a lot of fun brainstorming and world building for this one, so I decided to share a little bit of background information before we jump into the real fic. This one is oc heavy, so I felt the need to really introduce them, so I chose to do so in headcanon/brainstorming format 🙃 Also, this is a non canon AU, so I also felt the need to give you a tidbit of WandaNat’s back ground before all the kiddos came along. Some of these are longer than others and that’s just because I felt those needed a bit explaining for context. Tell me what you think and if you want more!

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

Meet the Maximoff-Romanoff’s!

Starting with moms:

Wanda Django Maximoff-Romanoff

daughter of Olek and Iryna Maximoff

twin sister of Pietro Maximoff

wife of Natasha

born in Sokovia

Her family moved to New York when she was a teenager because her father had a job opportunity.

Her mother decided to open a rather small restaurant to serve food from her country proudly.

and she does well.

Wanda starts off helping in the front of house with her brother

Eventually, she moves to the kitchen where she really learns to shine. She soaks up everything her mother has to teach her.

Once she has mastered everything on the current menu, she starts experimenting. Creating completely new dishes or taking her own Sokovian spin on traditional American foods.

Before long she is teaching her mother new recipes almost weekly. These are then added to the menu.

The restaurant really starts to thrive, pulling people from all of the city into their little hole in the wall, after a year or two of this.

Wanda is about to turn 18 and finish school. She makes a decision to continue her education at a culinary school.

She learns fast and quickly becomes a star pupil.

She gets her degree and returns to New York and helps her parents build the restaurant even further.

They do so well that they can move locations to a much larger venue, and they continue to grow in popularity and prestige. They offer authentic Sokovian food to a community that hasn’t really experienced before, along with Wanda’s masterful creations that blended well know dishes with Sokovian cuisine.

Eventually, her parents decide to take a step back. They still work in the restaurant when needed, but the management and ownership is passed to Wanda.

It’s hers. She owns it. She owns her own restaurant. It’s a dream come true.

The only thing she’s ever wanted more than this is a family of her own,

and soon enough she gets that too.

One night after most of the diners had left, Pietro drags Wanda to the front to introduce her to a friend of his.

Her brother tells her the man’s name, but Wanda doesn’t hear it. She’s too busy trying so hard not to embarrass herself in front of the gorgeous red haired woman sitting at the table with him.

After a short conversation, Wanda excuses herself and turns back to the kitchen mentally kicking herself the whole way.

“Stop it, Wanda. They were clearly on a date. She’s probably straight, so you have no chance.”

She only makes it halfway, and she is stopped by a smooth voice that makes her want to drop her panties.

She turns to find the red head smoothly introducing herself and asking for her number.

‘Natasha, a beautiful name for an even more a beautiful woman,’ Wanda thinks.

She accepts, and the rest is history.

They fall in love and get married in the city. Their families blend seamlessly. It’s almost too good to be true.

They live in the city. Wanda continues to run the restaurant, while Nat patrols.

Wanda always wanted a large family, not really as large of a family that she ended up with, but she wouldn’t change it for the world.

She carries and births 5 of their 8 children: Lena, PJ, Alex, Tommy and Billy.

When she is pregnant with the first set of twins, her and Nat make the decision to move out of the city. They buy a 5 bedroom up state.

Wanda decides to step back from the restaurant to focus on the babies for a while.

She still owns and manages it from afar, but she has a great staff, talented chefs, loyal managers, and a dedicated team to keep the restaurant on its feet and living up to reputation Wanda had built.

After Y/n and Alex are born and grow to the age they need to be in a daycare for most of the day, Wanda feels the need to get out and do something.

She receives an offer to teach at a local culinary school, and she jumps at the opportunity

She absolutely loves it.

Teaching other people as passionate about cooking as she is, watching their skills grow is exhilarating.

With the restaurant and teaching, Wanda feels a sense of peace that she can support her family and continue to support her family as it grows.

and grows and grows and grows

Natasha Alianovna Maximoff-Romanoff

the adopted daughter of Melina and Alexei Romanoff

older sister of Yelena

she was born in Russia

Her birth parents were killed in a car crash when she was very young, and she was sent to an orphanage for girls, The Red Room.

She was there for a few years before she met a little girl named Yelena, a girl much younger than her who just looked scared.

Natasha comforted and cared for her and continued to do so for a year.

It was then a man and woman came in looking to begin their family.

They were taken by Yelena. They spoke to her and played with her before picking her up.

The blonde girl looked frantically for the older girl with fury red hair, but she had gone to steal a snack from the kitchen for Yelena.

Natasha hears screaming and rushes to where she left Yelena.

Two strangers are walking towards the door with her little sister Yelena.

The blonde thrashes in their arms until she’s eventually released and runs straight to Natasha gripping her tightly.

The two of them had become very close, near inseparable.

and that was lowering their chances of being adopted. No one wants to take in two kids.

The strangers leave, and Natasha thinks that she just cost Yelena a good life with those two could have been parents.

but that chance was lost forever.

Until only a week later, when they return with an interest in both girls.

Natasha is 8 when she is adopted along with her official little sister.

They lived in Russia for a few years before moving all the way to Ohio. They stayed there for the rest of Natasha’s childhood.

Her mother Melina taught psychology at a local university. Her father became a police officer.

Somehow both Natasha and her sister decide to follow in his footsteps and become police officers as well.

Eventually Natasha decides to leave the suburban life to move to New York. She works and makes connections.

One day a friend of hers and fellow officer, Steve asks her to try a restaurant that is supposed to be amazing.

“A friend of mine is the owner’s brother; he can get us in.”

The food definitely lives up to the hype.

Natasha is already thinking of when she can come back next when a man approaches the table with a woman in tow.

The most breathtaking woman Natasha has ever seen.

Steve introduces the brother, Pietro, and he introduces his sister the head chef and owner of the restaurant.

Nat compliments the food and gets only a quiet thanks but a completely genuine smile in response.

As the woman, Wanda, walks back to the kitchen, Nat feels like she’s losing her chance.

She quickly chases her down and introduces herself properly and goes for it. By the grace of whatever god there is above, the chef accepts, and Natasha will be forever grateful she did.

She adores Wanda more and more with every interaction.

They get married and decide to start a family of their own.

Unlike her wife, Natasha has always wanted a family as large as they have.

She wanted carry children, to form new lives inside her and love them with every thing she had.

However, she carried and birthed only 1 of their 8 children.

Y/n is a miracle child. One they thought they had lost before she got a chance at conception, but she was there, hiding in plain sight.

The pregnancy that followed was a typical one more or less.

excluding the fact that her wife was also pregnant at the time.

Twice the cravings, twice the mood swings, twice the hormones and the sex drive to go with it.

Pregnancy sex is much harder to accomplish when both members have swollen stomachs.

All goes well until an emergency c-section was performed and Natasha was rushed into surgery.

When she wakes, the first thing she thinks is that she misses her baby. Her flat stomach evidence that her ride along is no longer riding along.

She instantly misses holding the child inside her. She’ll just have to convince Wanda to have a fifth child, so she can carry again.

Nat looks up to find Wanda with red eyes and a terrified expression. She can’t help but think the worst.

Her baby is gone.

“no no no no no no, please no”

Wanda quickly jumps up quelling her fears, Y/n ok, she’s here and healthy, but there was more.

“Nat, I had to make a decision.”

She explains what happened, the complication, the possible outcomes

“It was your uterus or your life.”

Wanda knows how much carrying children meant to her wife, and she had taken that from her.

Nat grieved for a moment.

Her only consistent dream in life was to fall in love and carry children.

That option is now gone

but if the other possibility was Natasha missing out on life with her wife and children, she knew Wanda made the right choice.

She carried Y/n.

She fulfilled that dream. Now, to love them for the rest of her life.

“She is ok?”

“She’s fine. Healthy and so beautiful, lyubov. She has your hair.”

Nat smiles, “that’s all that matters to me.”

She kisses her wife without a drop of resentment in her heart.

She eventually goes back on the job and just watches her children grow.

They all have different personalities, likes and dislikes.

Natasha’s favorite is when she watches them find their passion and chase it.

…now for the kiddos

Lena Iryna Maximoff-Romanoff

17 years old

one of “the big twins”

Natasha and Wanda’ very first born child

the biological daughter of Wanda and a male donor

born 18 mins before her twin Pietro

Named after her Aunt Yelena

At the age of two, she saw an old home video of Natasha dancing ballet in a recital and begged to dance like her.

She began lessons at the age of three and has danced till this day. She improves more and more with every year.

She’s very talented.

As a junior in high school, she has been recruited to dance in college even a professional ballet company showed interest in her.

However, she wants to be a lawyer.

specifically a family lawyer after witnessing the adoptions of two of her little siblings first hand

She has the grades for it. She’s not in the very top of her class, but she is not far below them.

In true first kid fashion, when she’s not dancing or studying? she is probably helping with the little kids.

not because her moms force her to

They would never force her to.

She just likes looking after them.

Once she and PJ are old enough to drive, she often times acts as a school bus picking up her siblings on her way home, after her ballet rehearsals of course.

When moms say “the big twins are in charge”

…what they mean is “Lena is in charge.”

and everyone knows it but PJ.

Pietro Leonid Maximoff-Romanoff

17 years old

“PJ”

one of the “big twins”

biological son of Wanda and a male donor

He was born 18 mins after his sister, and it kills him.

He’s named after his Uncle Pietro, but everyone calls him PJ.

It started as a family joke.

As soon as the twins were born, everyone got confused calling them both Pietro.

So little Pietro became Pietro Jr around family.

No one really knows when it got shortened to PJ, but it’s stuck ever since.

He’s a pretty calm child,

but he can be a rascal when he wants to be.

April fool’s day is his favorite day of the year.

He won’t admit it, but his little brother Alex is his best friend and often coconspirator.

He is currently a junior in high school. He does well in school, not as well as his twin, but still above average, and he’s ok with that.

Like his uncle Pietro he’s fast

like really fast

which is a huge help when he plays soccer. He finally got moved up to varsity his junior year,

and he is PUMPED about it.

He’s not really sure what he wants to do after graduation. Whether to go to college or a trade school.

If he goes to college, he has no idea what he would want to study?

Sifting through the options can be a little overwhelming.

but moms reassure him that he’s only a junior.

“There’s plenty of time to think about it.”

Y/n Alianovna Maximoff-Romanoff

15 years old

the only biological child of Natasha

They were fortunately able to use the same donor as the twins.

Originally, they thought the implantation didn’t take. Months later they learned that Natasha was in fact pregnant.

because it’s the same donor, she’s technically a half-sibling with her brothers and sister,

but she’s definitely a whole sibling you know what I mean?

lovingly nicknamed by her moms as their “secret agent”

due to her inexplicable ability to fly under the radar… since conception, literally.

Only four months older than her brother, Alex

technically making them “Irish twins”

but she’s a year ahead of him in school.

Her birthday falls just before the age cut off date between the grades. So she’s the youngest of her class, and he’s among the older in his.

Now a sophomore in high school, her grades are average, mostly because she dedicates so much of her time to music.

She is arguably the quietest out of all her siblings, with the exception of maybe Max.

except when she’s practicing her violin.

When Y/n was three, her moms asked her if she wanted to dance ballet like Lena. She just shrugged, and they let it go.

When Y/n is four, her sister Lena begged to go see a real ballet.

So moms took Y/n along too, thinking if she saw the dancers that might convince her.

While her moms and sister watched the dancers, Y/n was solely focused on the orchestra pit.

After that every time she got to pick music in the car, she asked for “ballet music” (of course, her moms knew exactly what she meant).

When she learned the names of all the instruments, her answer quickly changed to “violins please.”

For her 5th birthday she gets her first violin, she began lessons.

After 10 years of playing, she is good.

like really really good

not because she’s a prodigy or anything

She’s good because she wants to be, so she works hard for it.

Y/n practices all the time.

To the point that her siblings start to complain, especially when she first started.

As much as they hate to think it, it got a little frustrating for her moms too.

So they ask her to practice in the basement to cancel a bit of the noise.

She spends so much time down there, that when she’s 10, they redecorate the basement and turn it into Y/n’s new bedroom.

She absolutely loves it.

Lena is trying to convince Y/n to play for one of her ballet recital solos. Of course Y/n is gonna say yes, she looks up to her big sister too much not to.

Between how much time she spends in her room practicing and how quiet she can be and the whole “secret agent” thing she’s got going on, she’s prone to slipping through the cracks in terms of attention from her moms.

but Wanda and Natasha make a conscious effort to keep that from happening every chance they can.

Alexei Lev Maximoff-Romanoff

15 years old

“Alex”

biological son of Wanda and the same donor as his older siblings

He’s named after Natasha’s father, but he goes by Alex for similar to reasons to PJ.

Conceived at a point when everyone believed Natasha was not pregnant, he’s only four months younger than his sister.

So together they are kinda like Wanda and Nat’s second set of twins

…except also not.

The one thing to know about Alex, is that he is a class clown.

The class clown of all class clowns

The Class Clown King, if you will

Since he was very little, he’s always trying to make people laugh.

So much so, that it tended to get him in trouble at school with an ill-timed or disruptive joke.

Though now that he is in high school, he has managed to bring his number of detentions down to one a semester.

Only a freshman and he’s trying to start a comedy club at school.

His joking spirit is why he so easily agrees to many of PJ’s practical jokes. Sharing a room with his older brother makes their scheming even easier.

When he’s not in school or trying to make someone laugh, he likes to swim in the local swim league.

He’s not the fastest, but he manages to keep up.

Max Samuel Maximoff-Romanoff

12 years old

originally born Maxwell Jonathan Samuels VI (the sixth)

adopted by Wanda and Natasha when he is two years old

When they adopted him, they decided to keep the name he knew, except changing his middle name to a shortened version of his original last name.

not to honor his parents(you’ll see why in a second), but as more of an homage to all of the Samuels family line that made it possible for Max to even be alive today.

They weren’t exactly trying to add to their family at the time, but this little guy practically fell in their laps,

and then immediately into their hearts as well.

Nat first met Max when she and her partner at the time took a call to his house for a domestic dispute.

While trying to deescalate the situation with the man and woman, Natasha noticed a very young child watching the whole thing.

By his size, he couldn’t be but maybe a year or year and a half old max (pun intended).

He was a bit dirty which was a bit of a red flag, but between PJ and Alex, she knows how little boys can be. She decides to give his parents the benefit of the doubt on it.

Natasha’s partner took care of the parents, and she took care of little man.

First thing she noticed is that he was so sweet.

He smiled when she picked him up and played with her for a couple hours while the whole ordeal was settled and a next of kin came to pick him up.

She was called out to that address twice more.

Once for a suspicion of hard substance abuse which ended up being unfounded at the time, but the condition of the house had greatly deteriorated.

Natasha found Max alone in his room with a handful of bruises in multiple stages of healing. He was a little dirty and very hungry.

With not enough evidence to do anything more, they had to leave, but Nat put in a report to child services immediately.

She was called out there again only a few weeks later when a woman called in saying she found a missing child. A stranger found Max in only a diaper completely alone wandering outside in the street.

The blessed woman scooped him up out of harms way and sat with him on the sidewalk until police showed up.

When Natasha pulls up, he somehow recognizes her from the previous two times he’s seen her and immediately runs into her arms.

She scoops him up in a hug and walks him across the street to his house, where she finds both his parents passed out on the couch clearly intoxicated.

While she is happy to see sweet Max again, it’s safe to say Nat’s angry.

She’s absolutely enraged.

She arrests both parents on the spot for child neglect with a suspicion of child abuse (three strikes, am I right?)

Natasha hates to part with the little guy, but he is taken into child services until his parents situation is figured out.

A few months later, Max’s parents where also charged with several drug charges along with the child abuse and neglect charges.

They were found guilty on all and will be in prison for a very, very long time,

and Max was being put up for adoption.

The day she heard that, Natasha went home and after the kids were asleep, she all but begged Wanda to consider.

“He’s the sweetest kid.”

“His parents were screaming at each other in the other room and he was just happy to play with me.”

“He recognized me.”

“He spent all day alone in the sun, but he smiled and ran straight to me.”

“You’d love him, detka.”

It didn’t take much convincing to have her wife agreeing to consider,

and after only one visit with Max, Wanda’s decided he is theirs.

The two mothers spent a few hours playing with the boy inside the child services center.

He ended up falling asleep in Wanda’s arms. She hated the thought of him waking up without them there.

She hated the thought of leaving this building without him even more,

but the visit was over.

Nat and Wanda both kissed his head and whispered to the sleeping boy, assuring they will see him again soon, and one day they’ll be together for good.

Many visits and several weeks later, they finally take him home.

Max’s four older siblings loved him on sight. They all wanted to play with him and fought over who got to sit next to him at the dinner table.

He fits in like he was always meant to be there, because he was.

He is a total snuggle bug which his moms savor before he gets older and reaches out for them less.

However as he grows up and gets more independent, he keeps his sweet nature.

If he sees someone is sad or not feeling well, he always does something to make them smile and feel a little better.

When his little brothers were born, he was moved into the room with his older brothers.

He’s happy because that makes him one of the big kids now!

Like Alex, he likes to swim.

He is definitely the most supportive kid on the team. At swim meets he is constantly running around trying to cheer on all of his friends during their different races.

Now I know no one can know the future, but he’s gonna be a nurse when he grows up.

Trust me on this one.

He knows about his birth parents.

Where they are, why they’re there(as much as a child needs to know and as much as his moms think is appropriate), but he has no memory of them or his adoption.

If he’s asked, he’d probably tell you he’s always been a Maximoff-Romanoff.

Really he was, even before they met him, he belonged with them.

Thomas Ivan Maximoff-Romanoff

7 years old

“Tommy”

one of the “little twins”

biological son of Wanda and a male donor

older twin brother of Billy,

but he’s born only 2 minutes before his brother, so “older twin” doesn’t really mean much here.

If these two had been Natasha and Wanda’s first set of twins, there’s a high possibility they would have been their last kids.

It’s not like they are terrible trouble makers, they are just so rambunctious.

So much energy compacted into so small bodies.

They are the typical set of brothers.

They like to play rough and can be very rowdy. They run around outside and get dirty and catch bugs. Then sometimes, they are so focused on a video game, there is no getting through to them.

The moment Tommy learned to walk, he ran all. the. time.

and he runs fast.

Almost faster than PJ, but unlike his brother, he doesn’t want to really play sports, like soccer or football where speed would be a favorable tool.

No, he doesn’t like the objectives and the rules and trying to get a ball in a net or across a line.

He just likes to run really fast in one direction.

Luckily this year he’s old enough to start running track, which is the perfect extra curricular for him.

Currently he’s in grade school, and he hates when his teachers seem to pay more attention to him than some of the other kids.

“It’s because I’m not as smart as Billy. That’s why they hate me!”

but that’s not true, his moms reassure him.

“You are twins, not clones. You have different strengths, and that is perfectly fine. They just want to help you utilize yours.”

William Olek Maximoff-Romanoff

7 years old

“Billy”

one of the “little twins”

biological son of Wanda and a male donor

younger twin brother of Tommy

It was Natasha who first brought up the idea of having another baby.

The twins were 10, Y/n and Alex were 8, Max was 5,

and suddenly baby fever set in.

“just one more, detka please”

…well “just one more” turned out to be 2 more.

At the first ultrasound, Nat almost passed out much to Wanda’s amusement.

“You knew twins run in my family.”

Just like that their family of 7 became a family of 9.

The older kids, especially Lena, love to help out. “Baby duty” was the only favorable chore.

Very early, they could tell that Billy was smart.

exceptionally smart

As he went through school, this became very apparent.

his scores? highest in the class.

He does extra credit he didn’t need.

Oh, the science fair? He won that.

every year.

He even sometimes sneaks Tommy the answers to their homework when moms aren’t looking. Of course, they notice it every time.

He is one of the strongest players on the chess team.

Nat loves to sit and play chess with him.

When she was first teaching him, she would let him win every now and again. Now, sometimes she has to actually work to keep up with him.

Out of all Wanda’s children, Billy is the one who will never decline to watching sitcoms with her.

When he’s not running around with Tommy, he’s probably hiding somewhere with his nose in a book.

Anastasia Melina Maximoff-Romanoff

3 years old

sometimes referred to as Ana

adopted by Wanda and Natasha when she is only three months old.

Like before, they weren’t looking to have another child.

They were actually against it almost.

7 kids=101 kids, at least that’s what it feels like.

“No more” they agreed.

Then Bruce, a friend of theirs who works as a doctor in the local hospital, asks Wanda to cater an event at the hospital, which her restaurant doesn’t normally do, but for a friend of course she makes an exception.

When she arrives to set up for the event, she goes to find Bruce and he is clearly upset about something.

After some prompting, he begins tell Wanda about the newborn baby girl that was dropped on the steps of the hospital.

She had a cleft lip and a severe lung infection (which she shouldn’t have survived) that will probably leave her with lasting breathing difficulties.

They’ve been treating her for almost 2 months. Her condition is improving, but her lungs are too weak for her to be released.

Worse than that, she is up for adoption, and the process is not going well.

The caseworker assured the hospital that a newborn would be adopted almost immediately, but a month goes by and no one comes.

Not even a case worker has come to visit this tiny girl fighting for her life.

Bruce is so frustrated because he just got off the phone with the caseworker who told him that essentially she’s on the “unwanted list”.

Because of her health issues, she is a less desirable child for adopting parents.

They tell him, these kids usually stay in the system until they age out.

Wanda’s heart drops at the idea of an innocent child never having parents because of a condition that she has no control over.

Bruce shows her a picture of a beautiful baby girl with an oxygen mask and tubes seemingly all over her body. She wears a beanie that is stitched with the name Jane

“How did you know her name?”

Bruce looks down sheepishly, “we don’t… one of the nurses makes them for the Jane Doe’s”

That makes Wanda angry.

She doesn’t even have a name.

After the event, Wanda goes home and breaks down as she lays in bed. Nat holds her, and Wanda sobs as she tells the story.

At the end, they share a look. No words are spoken but a conversation is definitely held.

The mothers decide to think it over for a while.

Less than a week later, they call their case manager.

The process is fast, way faster than Max’s adoption.

It’s like the agency is scared to lose prospective parents for an “unwanted child.”

Nat and Wanda hate that term.

They want their daughter off that list.

She is wanted fiercely.

Two weeks later, they sign the papers.

Anastasia Melina is officially theirs.

She spends another month in the hospital. While the kids are at school, Wanda spends all day with their baby sister. Nat always stops to see Anastasia before she goes home after work. Being friends with their daughter’s doctor helps them sneak around visiting hours.

After the adoption, Anastasia’s condition improves quickly.

Like she knows she has a home and family now, and she can’t be with them until she’s better.

Finally she is strong enough to leave the hospital.

They take her home, and begin life as a family of 10.

Once home Anastasia thrives.

After a surgery for her lip and breathing treatments multiple times a day to strengthen her lungs, she looks nothing like the frail baby in the picture Bruce showed Wanda.

She grows up as the family’s little Princess. Only 3 years old, she is not letting asthma keep her down.

Her big sisters cherish her, finally not just the two of them with all those brothers.

As for all those brothers… let’s just say she has 5 built in personal body guards, and she loves them all.

She absolutely adores her big sisters.

She wants to dance ballet like Lena.

One day, she put on her tutu and little ballet slippers she got for her birthday and ran to Lena.

“I do bawet(ballet) pwease?”

Happily her big sister complies.

She teaches her positions and light warm ups that she’s seen the coaches teach the little little dancers.

Unknown to them Nat watches silently from the doorway, heart full to the brim.

Sometimes if she can hear music coming from Y/n’s door, she will sneakily open the door and dance in the living room to the music.

One day someone closes the door while she’s dancing. So she scoots down the stairs to Y/n’s room.

“Can I dance to your bawet music?”

She squeals when her sister says yes. Anastasia twists around the room while Y/n continues practicing.

Y/n was actually about to quit for the day when Ana came down, but instead she played until the toddler was worn out.

“Can you pway Ewsa?”

Not wanting to tell her no, Y/n plays Let It Go by ear giving it her best try. It’s not perfect, but apparently more than enough for her little sister.

The toddler quickly drags her upstairs to show Mommy. As Anastasia and Wanda listen to her play, she is heard playing throughout the house.

Lena looks up from the couch and asks if she can play a Taylor Swift song. Again Y/n plays by ear and memory.

This rapidly evolved into a kind of game where the family sat and just kept suggesting songs for Y/n to play at random. For the most part she kept up.

After that, the activity would pop up in family game nights every now and again. always requested for by Anastasia.

and let’s be real, no one can say no to her.

She loves all things pink, and lives up to her nickname of Princess. She loves dress up and make believe.

She is a gem the family didn’t know they were missing.

She is a total Mama and Mommy’s girl, which is perfectly fine for them.

They soak it up knowing for sure this is the very last time they will have a child this young again.

Part One: Just a Typical Morning

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

POP QUIZ! NO CHEATING!!!

(for those who’ve read this far)

Who can name all 8 kids WITHOUT checking the list again?

Bonus points if they’re in order. Extra bonus points if you get middle names too.

473 notes · View notes

3-2-whump · 1 month

Text

Intro to Caretaker: Guard Shack

Author's Note: the audiobook our new OC is listening to tells a story from the world of @whumped-by-glitter, go check her out if you haven't already. I got her blessing to post this excerpt from her WIP here so that Nico would have a riveting book to listen to.

TW/CW: slavery whump, drug use (in the book). Wow, a relatively short TW/CW list this time!

This was the easiest money Nico Clemenza had ever made. From noon to about 8 pm, he sat in the little guard shack at the entrance of the mansion, opening the gates for the people who were authorized, and not letting in the people who weren’t. It took him a mere three weeks to memorize the faces of each Costa member, what cars they drove, their schedules, etc., but that was the hardest part, so far. The rest of the job involved plenty of downtime, which the young law student used to further advance his studies and slack off on his phone. He really should thank his uncle more profusely for finding him such a nice gig at this place last spring.

Costa Insurance operated out of the old mansion that once belonged to Luciano Antonio Costa –Boss Tony, as some of the older members referred to him. When his grandson, the current Boss, inherited the family business a couple years back, he also inherited the mansion and the several acres of land that came with it. Yet Don Thomas remained content to stay at his penthouse apartment, which led to the Organization renovating the grand old house into an office space, leasing out their previous downtown location, and moving the front to the outskirts of the city. Now here he was, staring blankly out at a long stretch of forested road, gun on his desk next to his textbooks and thermos of coffee, completely and utterly bored.

Just because it was the easiest money Nico ever made didn’t mean he enjoyed making it.

At least he had this audiobook on his phone. When he wasn’t doing his course work or watching the leaves of the trees rustle in the wind, he listened to audiobooks and the occasional podcast to stave off the ever-present threat of boredom. Currently, he was listening to a fantasy adventure narrated by a woman with a silky suave voice:

‘Dasa retreated to a quiet place outside of the cave that was now their refuge. He knew soon enough the weekly dose of Divinity’s Downfall would take effect. It was a potent poison, quite possibly the nastiest poison in existence, deadly in the worst way.

‘Fortunately, or unfortunately for Dasa though, it was just an extremely strong hallucinogenic and he did not want to be anywhere near either of his masters when the familiar claws of delirium sunk into his mind. While the drugs didn’t make him violent or anything, it just got embarrassing when Divinity’s Downfall loosened his tongue and he let all his thoughts spill out. Plus, he didn’t want Annika to know about the poisons; that was his burden alone.

Dasa sighed, silently wishing he at least had his glass shards, the only thing he could say he owned. His first collection was left behind when he was taken to the palace, the second one was burned with the palace. A tear slid down his cheek. Dasa knew it was selfish; he shouldn’t be crying when Princess Annika and Master Jarek had lost so much more, but it just seemed like nothing would ever be his own. Not even his own body was his own, and the Tallisians could read his thoughts whenever they wanted, so he didn’t even have freedom in his own mind.

‘‘Master Corvius was right all along, I am just a thing to be used or thrown out on a whim,’ Dasa thought bitterly as another tear slipped down his cheek, the poison beginning to seep its way into his -’

A succession of sharp raps against the guard shack door broke the immersion. Nico jumped a little in his seat, turning around to see who interrupted his story. A slim young man dressed all in black stood outside, his fist retreating from where it had knocked. The intern, his mind supplied. He usually rode out with the Boss at the end of the day. Nico hastily paused his audiobook and rose to open the door, running a hand through his unkempt dark brown hair in an attempt to keep up the appearance of neatness. “Hey,” he greeted, plastering on his signature smile. His classmates didn’t call him the ‘high school heartthrob’ for nothing.

Nico never got a close look at the intern until now. Cal –that was his name, right? –looked a bit young to be an intern, with his rounded, boyish facial features yet to melt away into hardened lines. He was a little shorter than him, though that coiffed tuft of black hair on top of his undercut gave him about an extra inch or so of height. His mocha brown skin contrasted with Nico’s fair complexion, as did his dark brown eyes, compared to Nico’s forest green ones.

“Can I eat my lunch in here?” Cal asked. His voice was a soft timbre, like a glacial lake in a forest. He hardly spoke with an accent, which made Nico feel a little self-conscious that he was expecting one.

“What, why?” he asked. Nobody ate their lunches outside. There was plenty of room in the refurbished dining room, wasn’t there?

“I usually eat my lunches outside, but it looks like it’s about to rain soon, and I would rather not be caught in it,” the intern explained. Nico looked up towards the heavy gray sky. The forecast mentioned chances of scattered showers around mid-afternoon... “Yeah, sure, come in,” he shrugged, moving aside as he opened the door a little wider.

The boy shuffled past him as he entered the guard shack, muttering a quiet “thanks” as Nico shut the door. He slouched back into his seat, then felt immediately guilty that there was only one chair in the guard shack and that his guest would have to stand and eat.

“Wait, would you like to sit down?” he asked, reluctantly rising yet again.

Cal eyed the chair warily as if it would bite him before saying, “No, I’m alright, thanks.”

“Are you sure? I mean, I’ve been sitting all day, it’s fine,” Nico insisted. He pushed his chair forward in invitation. The intern shook his head again. Nico shrugged in defeat, resuming his spot in his chair as Cal unwrapped his sandwich and began to eat.

“So… your name’s Cal?” he asked, starting a conversation. He never got visitors to the guard shack before, unless they were there to tell him someone of consequence was coming or going, or to yell at him, so he didn’t want to bore away his first real guest.

A nod in between bites of food answered his question. “What’s it short for? Calder, or-”

“Khaled,” the boy corrected, washing down his last mouthful with a can of Coke.

Nico’s mouth opened in a quiet ‘oh.’ He quickly quirked his lips into a friendly smile. “My name’s Nico,” he said proudly. “Nico Clemenza, future attorney!” He gestured proudly towards his thick textbooks and unopened laptop. “My uncle got me this job to help me make some extra dough while I pursue my law degree!”

“Oh, um, that was nice of him,” his guest replied before taking another bite of his food.

“How did you get here? Not many people know about job openings in Costa Insurance.”

“Temp agency,” Khaled answered bluntly and a little too quickly.

He offered a low whistle. “Your agency must have one of our guys on the inside, to be able to get you into this job.”

Khaled merely shrugged as he ate the last couple bites of his lunch and chased it with a swig of Coke. “So, what is guard duty like?”

Nico let out a prolong, exhausted sigh. “Boring as hell,” he admitted. The intern chuckled a little at his honesty. “But at least I’ve got my phone and my laptop out here.”

“Wait, does that mean you get Wi-Fi out here?” Khaled asked, tilting his head toward the laptop.

Nico nodded. The boy visibly perked up. “Can you look up the FIFA U-17 World Cup for me?” he requested with urgency. “I missed the last couple games when I was grounded.”

Nico opened his laptop, quickly signing in and searching it up for him. “You’re a soccer fan, then?”

“Football,” Khaled corrected, “the real football.”

Nico scoffed; as a star quarterback during his high school days, he felt personally offended by the sentiment. “You mean soccer. The less cool football.”

Khaled ignored him, an audible groan escaping his lips as he read the results. “My team didn’t make it!” he whined. He sunk his face into his hands. Nico reached up to offer an awkward pat on the back, knowing the feeling all too well. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” the boy muttered, “they were playing against Spain; La Furia Roja are strong as hell, after all!” He set his hands down and leaned back against the wall with a sigh.

“Want to watch what you missed?” Nico offered. He was already pulling up footage of the game on another tab as Khaled gave a small, eager nod. “Come closer,” he beckoned, blowing up the video to full screen.

All too soon, a dissonant beeping noise sounded from a pager hooked onto the intern’s belt. “Damn,” he pouted, “my break is over.”

“Well, at least it’s not raining too hard out there.” The light pitter-patter of rain intensified into a torrential barrage on the steel roof of the guard shack. Nico awkwardly chuckled; looks like he spoke too soon. He grabbed the large coat with ‘SECURITY’ emblazoned on its back from where it hung on the door knob, extending it out to his new friend. “Take this, and give it back to me at the end of the day,” he offered.

Khal took it gratefully and wrapped it over his thin shoulders as he made his exit. “Oh, and don’t be a stranger,” Nico added before he was fully out the door. “Come back anytime and we can watch some more soccer!”

The young intern flashed him a small smile. “It’s football!” he laughed. He raised the coat over his head and dashed into the pouring rain. Nico shut the door behind him, slunk back into his chair, and hit play on his audiobook. He couldn’t help but bear a matching smile on his own face. Looks like his job wouldn’t be so boring after all.

Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump@whumped-by-glitter

#whump writing #whumpee #caretaker #the start of a beautiful friendship

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bad-fucking-omens · 5 months

Text

The Witch Twin (Alec V. x OC) - Chapter 9 - Waiting

Summary: When I thought about my future, I was sure that I had the rest of my life vaguely planned out.

Then, my older sister moved up from Arizona to stay with us — and turned my entire life upside down.

I had no idea just how bad it had gotten until I was standing in a castle in Italy, convinced that I was about to die.

Length: 3K words (Complete fic 71.8K words)

Fic warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, explicit smut (M/F), referenced/implied past child abuse, emotional manipulation by sibling

Chapter warnings: Description of graphic violence and death, PTSD

Read on AO3 or read below

9. WAITING

Alec led me through the castle, watching me with a fond smile as my eyes traced over the artwork that hung on the stone walls. He had agreed to take me on a tour of the castle that I was now living in, but I was far more interested in the magnificent artwork that lined the walls.

“All of these paintings are masterpieces that have been considered lost over the centuries,” Alec told me.

“Really? How did the Volturi get them?”

“The Masters — well, all of us, really — enjoy artwork and literature. We all keep an eye out for any news about lost or stolen masterpieces. Usually, we can find them if we put in a little effort. Instead of returning them to the humans that lost them in the first place, we keep them here. We take better care of them than any human museum can.”

“How many are there?”

“Oh, a fair amount. We have more than just paintings. There’s sculptures, too, but we only have a handful of those,” Alec said.

“Any by Van Gogh?”

Alec grinned and gently tugged my hand. He led me through several hallways until he finally slowed and stopped before one painting.

My breath caught in my throat as I looked at it. The oil painting portrayed a vase of vivid yellow flowers with two red flowers drooping on the left side against a dark background. I traced my eyes along the brushstrokes, awed at seeing a true Van Gogh in person.

“I take it that you like Van Gogh?” Alec teased gently. He tucked my brown hair behind my ear, a soft smile on his lips.

I smiled. “Yeah. I always have.” He slowly moved to stand behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and gently pulling me back against his chest. He rested his chin on my shoulder. “I’ve just always loved the way he paints. The brushstrokes, the colors, the composition. . . . Something about his work has always been compelling to me.”

Alec hummed. “He was a genius artist. . . . Which one of his works is your favorite?”

“That’s a tough question.” I laughed. “I’m not sure I could choose just one.”

“Tell me your top three, then.”

“Um. . . . Skull of a Skeleton with Burning Cigarette, Almond Blossom, and . . . Starry Night Over the Rhône, I think. They’re all different from each other, and beautiful in their own distinct ways,” I explained. I leaned back into his arms and asked, “Do you know the name of this one?”

“Poppy Flowers,” he answered. “It’s been lost to the human world since the nineteen-seventies.”

“How did the Volturi find it?”

“We were on a mission. When we told Aro that we had found it, he had it brought back to the castle and had it hung here,” Alec said. “I believe it is one of his favorites, too.”

“I can see why. It is truly gorgeous.”

“You’re prettier,” he whispered in my ear. I blushed and Alec laughed quietly, then pressed a kiss to my cheek, the warmth of my skin making his cold lips feel even cooler.

I turned to face him. I wrapped my arms around his neck as I looked up at him. Alec stared back down at me, a faint smile on his lips.

“Let’s go back to our room,” Alec suggested.

He led me through the winding corridors of the castle, my hand in his and our fingers linked together. When we reached our room, I pulled him towards the glass doors that led to the balcony. I stared out at the clear night sky, amazed at how easily I could see the bright stars that formed familiar constellations.

“Alec?”

“Eve?”

“Can we spend the night on the balcony?” I looked at him over my shoulder. “Please?”

“It will be cold,” he replied, his voice hesitant.

“I’ll be okay. And if you think that I’m getting too cold, we’ll go back inside,” I bargained, turning around to face him.

Alec held my eyes for a moment before he sighed and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Okay,” he murmured against my skin.

I grinned and hugged him tightly. “Thank you!”

“You’re very hard to say no to,” he teased. I giggled.

Alec pulled away from me to grab the pillows and the comforter off the bed. I opened the doors to the balcony when he returned to my side. Alec spread the comforter on the stone balcony and dropped the pillows down on one side. He took my hand and drew me down to sit on the comforter with him, so that I was sitting between his legs. I leaned back against his chest as he tucked the blanket around me.

From our place on the balcony, I could see the inner courtyard of the castle. It was a large rectangular area, hidden from the outside by the tall walls of the castle. Four pale stone pathways led from each wall of the castle to the center of the courtyard, where a tall, white marble fountain stood. I could faintly hear the sound of the running water.

“Thank you for agreeing to this,” I murmured to Alec as his arms curled around me. “I’ve always wanted to fall asleep under the stars with someone I love.”

Alec smiled and pressed a kiss to my hair. “I should have guessed that my incredibly sweet girl would be a romantic as well.”

“Shut up,” I mumbled, blushing.

“I like that you’re a romantic,” Alec said, resting his chin against my head. “It makes you even more adorable.”

I turned my head and brushed my lips lightly across his jaw. Alec hummed quietly and reached up to rub his thumb along my cheekbone.

“Beautiful,” he whispered. He pressed a kiss to my forehead, then another to my cheek. I smiled.

Alec laid back and drew me down with him. I curled up against his side and rested my head on his chest, wrapping my arm around his waist. Alec pulled the thick comforter over our bodies and tucked it tighter around my body so I stayed warm.

I stared up at the clear sky, which was so dark blue that it was nearly black. My eyes traced the imagined lines between the stars that made up each constellation that I could recognize. The great bear Ursa Major, the little bear Ursa Minor, the dragon Draco, and Perseus, the mighty Greek hero. The tales of how the constellations received their names were all very familiar to me — I had loved reading and learning about Greek mythology as a child, and that love hadn’t faded at all over the years.

My eyes began to flutter as I grew tired. I just barely felt the kiss Alec pressed to the top of my head and the fingers he trailed lightly along my cheek as my eyes finally closed for the last time that night.

“There’s something I want to show you,” Alec said.

I smiled as he took my hand in his and started to lead me through the long, winding corridors of the castle. He pulled me close to his side and I giggled as I blushed, which made him laugh along with me.

We finally stopped before a large set of double doors made of dark oak wood. Alec turned to face me, taking both of my hands in his and rubbing his thumbs along the backs of my hands.

“Have you ever seen our kind in the sunlight?” he asked softly.

“In the throne room when I was first in Volterra,” I admitted. “Only briefly, when two of the guards walked through a beam of sunlight. . . . Isn’t it forbidden to be in the sunlight around humans?”

“In public, yes. But the courtyard is only visible from within the castle and you are my mate,” he replied with a soft smile.

Alec leaned close and kissed me quickly, pulling away before I could be completely overwhelmed. He smirked at my slight pout. He reached up to brush his thumb along my lip so lightly that I barely felt his touch.

Then, he turned and opened one of the doors. Alec stepped aside, gesturing for me to go through the door before him. I walked out into the large courtyard. In each corner of the courtyard, gardens were filled with all different kinds of brightly colored flowers that were beginning to bloom. The smooth, off-white pebbles crunched under my feet as I stepped on them, slowly walking down the path that led to the large water fountain. Now that I was closer, I could see that it was sculpted in the image of some Greek or Roman gods. The crystal clear water was sparkling in the bright sun.

“The courtyard is beautiful,” I said.

I turned around when Alec didn’t speak, and saw that he had stepped into the sunlight. At first, the light blinded me. I put my hand up and blinked rapidly as my eyes tried to adjust to the light. I gasped when I saw Alec.

His skin was as pale as ever, but it was sparkling in the sun just like the water in the fountain. It was as if he had been carved from an enormous gemstone and now all the facets were catching in the light.

After a few moments, I took a small step closer and reached out to him. Alec’s hand flew up to meet mine quickly. I placed my hand in his and his cold fingers gently gripped my hand, drawing me closer. I moved my hand so that I was gripping his wrist. I turned his hand over. His palm glittered, scattering hundreds of tiny rainbows across my own skin.

“You’re breathtaking,” I breathed.

Alec smiled. He slid his fingers through mine, linking our hands together, and said softly, “Dance with me, sweet girl.”

I laughed and nodded. Alec drew me closer to his chest, wrapping one arm around my waist and holding my hand in the air while I placed my other hand on his shoulder. I followed his lead, letting him slowly sway us to silent music. After a while, I let my hand on his shoulder fall to his waist and I rested my head against his marble chest, watching the skin on his arms shimmer with half-closed eyes. He nuzzled into my hair and I smiled.

I loved these moments with Alec, when we were totally alone and focused entirely on each other. It always felt as if we were the only two people in the whole world.

When the sun dipped below the walls of the castle, we finally went back up to our room. Alec sat on the couch, then drew me down onto his lap. I leaned into him and curled up in his arms. He kissed my forehead.

“My love, there’s something I want to tell you.”

I looked up at him. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Alec assured me. “It’s just something that you should know about me. . . . Have you ever wondered how I became a vampire and joined the Volturi?”

“Of course.”

“I’m going to tell you how it happened,” Alec said, his voice soft and somewhat strained. I glanced up at him. There was a far-away look in his eyes, as if he wasn’t really seeing the room around us and was instead lost in his memories.

“When Jane and I were still humans, we . . . we had these . . . powers.” Alec’s voice was hard, yet quiet and almost detached, as if he was talking about someone else rather than his own life. “We couldn’t outright control our powers, but we must have had some sort of control over them because it always seemed as if bad things would happen to people who were mean to us and good things happened to those who were kind. . . . Aro learned about our powers when we were very young from a nomad who had passed through our village and had seen what we could do. Aro saw potential in us to be incredibly powerful and he wanted us to join the Volturi, but he had to wait until we were older. The Volturi had already made a law against creating immortal children — young children that were turned into vampires.”

Alec fell silent for a moment. When he spoke again, I could hear the rage simmering in his voice.

“The others in our village started to hate us. They accused us of being witches and they shunned me and Jane and our mother. . . . They treated us so horribly. They barely spoke to us and they started to refuse to sell us anything. They would break the fence that surrounded our cottage and steal the crops from our garden. The children and even the adults would taunt us, which would only cause more bad things to happen to them. . . .”

His voice wavered as he said, “One day . . . Jane was concerned by some of the village boys. They . . . they hurt her. Whatever powers she had lashed out at the boys to protect her and they started choking. She ran away from them as soon as she had the chance. She found me and told me what happened. We knew that the village would never forgive us for this, so we decided to leave the village. But when we reached our cottage to get Mother, the villagers were already chasing after us. All five of the boys were dead. The village wanted our blood.

“We tried to escape through the forest that was behind our home, but they caught us. . . . They killed Mother in the woods when she tried to defend us, and then dragged me and Jane to the village square. . . . They accused us of being witches and killed the boys maliciously. . . . We were tied to stakes to be burned alive.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. Tears gathered in my eyes and my heart contracted painfully as I imagined the twins fighting against the villagers, terrified out of their minds and knowing that they were about to die. I fisted my hand in the soft material of his shirt as he kept speaking.

“Jane was screaming and kicking and fighting the men who were trying to tie her to the stake. The villagers were cursing at us and throwing stones at us and holding torches that they were ready to throw down to start our pyre. I was limp, letting them do whatever they wanted. I just kept praying that all the pain and grief I was feeling would simply go away.”

Hesitantly, I looked up at Alec. His face had twisted into a painful expression and his crimson eyes were glassy, as if he was holding back tears.

“I remember . . . I remember watching the fire catch onto the dry wood and kindling piled beneath us. . . . I remember seeing Jane’s shoes burn off her feet. . . . I remember the way she screamed as the flames burned her skin, and then through her flesh. . . . I remember how foul the black smoke smelled and how it choked me as it surrounded me. . . . I finally went numb to everything at the end. I couldn’t breathe through the smoke anymore and my mind felt so slow and fuzzy. . . .

“That was when the Volturi found us. I thought I had died when I saw them. I thought they were demons, with their pale skin and red eyes. . . . I thought that they had been sent to drag me down to hell for having powers that I didn’t understand and couldn’t even control. . . . It certainly felt like I was in hell when Aro bit me. . . . Jane and I burned for five days before we woke up in this life, and I remember every single second of it.”

I buried my face in the crook of his neck, my arms curling tight around his body as I sobbed. Alec’s description of his own murder was so detailed that I felt as if I could see what had happened to him in my mind.

Alec seemed to come back to reality a moment later. He wrapped his arms around me, gently holding me close to his chest. He rubbed my back slowly, whispering that everything was okay, that he was fine now, and that I didn’t have to worry about him.

“I’m so sorry,” I cried. “I’m so, so sorry, Alec.”

“Don’t apologize,” Alec said, gently yet firm. “Don’t ever apologize for them.”

“I’m not,” I mumbled. I sniffled. “I just . . . I wish that you didn’t have to go through any of that. You and Jane . . . you both deserved so much better.”

Alec pulled back just enough to lift my chin up so he could look into my red-rimmed eyes. He brushed away my tears as he said softly, “We have had better for centuries, my love. . . . And now that I have found you, I have everything that I’ve ever wanted.”

I blushed and Alec smiled. He rested his hand lightly on my cheek. I leaned into his gentle touch, even as his frozen skin sent a shiver through my body. Alec rubbed his thumb along my cheekbone as we stared into each other’s eyes. I tilted my head up and kissed him.

Our lips moved together slowly. I pressed closer to his body, moving to straddle his lap as my hands came up to card through his loose, dark curls. Alec kept his hand on my cheek, though his other arm wrapped around my waist and kept me pressed against his chest until we finally broke apart.

I took a deep breath, soothing my aching lungs that had been deprived of air for too long. Alec simply chuckled and shook his head at me. I rolled my eyes. He smirked and pressed feather-light kisses across my cheeks and nose as an apology.

“Your transformation is tomorrow,” Alec murmured quietly. He pressed another kiss to my cheek. “Are you nervous?”

“A little,” I admitted. “But I know that you’ll be there with me the whole time, and that makes me feel a little calmer.”

“Everything will be okay, sweet girl. I promise.”

#alec volturi x reader #alec volturi imagine #alec volturi fanfiction #alec volturi #volturi imagine #volturi #twilight imagine #twilight fanfiction #twilight #fanfic

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fanfictionlibrary · 9 months

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Wind and Stars (Sanemi x OC) - Part One

A/N: This will be a little series about Sanemi training a tsuguko. Please let me know how you liked this part.

Sanemi did not know why Ubuyashiki had called him to his humble home. Surely not to just enjoy tea together as they were doing right now. Ubuyashiki drank his tea with closed eyes, relaxing and enjoying the flavor. He had only looked at Sanemi once. And that was when they greeted each other before sitting down at the chabudai, kneeling on soft pillows. The shoji stood open, letting a warm breeze flow inside the washitsu and spreading the smell of flowers. Where exactly the smell was coming from – from outside where the flower garden bloomed or from the fragrance inside – Sanemi could not tell. He did not really care. All was alright as it was. Peace and the soft breeze – that was all he needed right now. A small repose from his activities as a Hashira, although he would never admit that.

Relishing the calmness and the ease that Ubuyashiki exuded, Sanemi relaxed and drank his green tea. His scarred hands gripped the china diligently, and he found himself forgetting about the battle scars that adorned his face. He was so proud of them. They were a testimony of his strength. No demon, no matter how strong, could bring him to his knees. And he liked flashing his scars to all the demons he fought, sending a clear message: What do you think happened to the meek demons that marked me? Exactly the same fate that is going to be your undoing.

“Sanemi,” Ubuyashiki spoke softly, melting with the wind and releasing Sanemi from his reveries like he was a leaf trapped in a hurricane. “I am glad you could come today.”

Sanemi indicated a bow with his head. “Oyakata-sama, your calling is my path.”

Ubuyashiki smiled and took a sip from his cup. His daughter Hinaki suddenly appeared next to him, placing a plate with sticky rice cakes on the table. Sanemi hadn’t even heard Hinaki approaching. He had been so transfixed on his master. But even now, as the eight-year-old bowed and turned to leave without looking at either of them, her footsteps were quiet. Too quiet. She was so young but had already mastered the concept of dutiful hospitality by finding the right balance between being engaging and distanced. Her white head disappeared from sight as she drew the shoji that led to the hallway shut behind her.

Something about the Ubuyashiki women had always infused Sanemi with a sense of unease.

“I have a new mission for you, Sanemi.” Ubuyashiki suddenly spoke.

Startled, Sanemi directed his gaze to the wise man. “You want me to slay another demon? You could have just sent a crow,” Sanemi said, frowning. Noticing his mistake, he quickly added, “Although I feel deeply honored, Oyakata-sama, that you are having me.”

The Wind Hashira’s eyes widened as his master chuckled delightfully, throwing his head back just a little. That was the most reactive response Sanemi had ever witnessed from Ubuyashiki.

“No, no,” Ubuyashiki shook his head, resuming his usual stoic but friendly expression. “This time I don’t want you to slay demons. This time I want you to nurture a talent that will become formidable with your help. A great asset and addition to the Hashira.”

Dumbfounded, Sanemi stared at the black-haired man. His eyes narrowed before their widened in incredulous realization. “WHAAAT!!! You want to assign me a tsuguko? I thought choosing one was up to us.” He was so shocked that he accidentally tipped over his teacup, spilling its contents on the chabudai and the tatami mat.

“You cannot refuse, Sanemi. It’s your destiny to train the Star Pillar. We need you. Both of you together.”

Grumbling and mumbling to himself, Sanemi arrived in front of the Butterfly Mansion. The place the future Star Pillar was currently staying to recuperate from the injuries she had suffered on a mission. Ubuyashiki had informed Sanemi that the young slayer had fought against a lower moon. Her injuries were not severe. Apparently, she had held her ground incredibly well.

“She is a natural in need of the right instruction to reach greatness.” Ubuyashiki had said. “And wind usually flows in the right direction.”

“That depends on the fucking weather!” Sanemi cursed loudly as he refused to step through the open front gate, recalling his master’s words.

At this time of day, many people moved from and to the Butterfly Mansion: slayers, medics, and the occasional Hashira. Lately, the demons had been quieter, allowing for a more light-hearted atmosphere for everyone. So, most Hashira were nearby. However, Sanemi knew better than to be mollified by the suspicious lack of demon attacks. If they were laying low, then they did that for a reason. They were most likely following a strategy. And that everyone let their guard down, especially the Hashira, was part of the plan.

“—gawa-sensei. Excuse us, but—”

“Huh?” Sanemi turned his head to the side, looking down at three little girls who shrieked upon seeing his scary expression and huddled closer to each other.

“Shinazugawa-sensei,” spoke the one in the middle bravely. Her name was Kiyo Terauchi if Sanemi remembered correctly. “We have been calling your name several times already. First in greeting, but then… we…uhm.”

“We were worried about you, Sir,” interjected Sumi Nakahara. “Your face looked so sullen, and you didn’t react…” Faltering under the Hashira’s gaze, Sumi looked to the side.

“What!?” Sanemi crossed his arms. “You three little rats have a lot of free time to worry about adults. Worry about yourselves first! What were you up to anyway, huh? I thought you are supposed to help Shinobu out inside the mansion.”

“Well, Shinobu-san sent us out to go grocery shopping,” explained Naho Takada, gesturing with her head to the heavy packages each of them was carrying.

Skeptical, Sanemi raised his eyebrow, tilting his head to one side. Then, he rubbed the back of his head wildly and groaned, moving towards the girls and taking the loads they were carrying in his own arms. “Really, doesn’t Shinobu know that it’s bad for your young backs to carry such heavy weights. Let me take care of this.”

Completely in awe, the three girls beamed at him. “Arigatō.” They smiled genuinely.

Feeling uneasy, Sanemi looked away, scratching his temple. “Yeah, whatever.”

Sanemi helped to unpack the groceries in the kitchen of the Butterfly Mansion. With the help of his muscle strength the shelves and cupboards were filled quickly. He didn’t even notice Shinobu entering the kitchen, looking mystified at the scene unfolding in front of her: The Wind Hashira helping Sumi, Naho, and Kiyo to prepare all the ingredients needed for cooking dinner. Placing pans and pots on the stove, getting knives and cutting boards, and placing them on the cooking island. It looked funny how the three little girls bustled around Sanemi, their small forms looking even tinier in contrast to Sanemi’s tall and muscly frame.

It was when Sanemi grabbed a potato and placed it on a cutting board, knife in the other hand, that he looked up, meeting Shinobu’s eyes. He froze immediately, blinking multiple times. The Insect Hashira smiled friendly at him, but he didn’t fail to notice the cunning darkness shading her eyes. Shinobu would so tease him with what she just witnessed for the rest of their lives. For once, Sanemi hoped that he was not going to get old. It came with his job anyway.

“I did not take you to be the domestic kind.” Shinobu chuckled, lifting her hand to her mouth. The chuckle was laced with a malicious note that was hard to detect for those who were unfamiliar with Shinobu’s ways. She might be the Insect Hashira, she might call her home the Butterfly Mansion, but she was a sly fox. A loving and amicable fox tinkering with poison.

Immediately, the three little girls exclaimed joyously how Shinazugawa-sensei had helped them, adding to Sanemi’s chagrin.

“I see, I see.” Shinobu smiled, patting Sumi’s head since she was the closest to her. Then, she turned serious. All humor dissipated. Sanemi waited, tensing up. “So, I take it you have talked to Oyakata-sama? About your soon-to-be tsuguko?”

Sanemi swallowed. Confused, the three little nurses and cooks looked from Sanemi to Shinobu. “So, you know.” That was all that Sanemi said. It was not a question.

“Yes, I do. Since she is staying at my place and is my patient, Oyakata-sama informed me about his plan. Although, he clarified that it was not a plan of his. Just foresight. He emphasized he knew what needed to be done but that you would not respond to his wise explanations so well as to his orders.”

“Wow.” Sanemi rolled his eyes. “Can you speak one sentence without insulting someone? You are not being as discreet as you think.”

“Oh, I don’t know what you mean.” Shinobu beamed too sweetly.

“What does he mean?” whispered Naho to her friends.

“I don’t know for sure,” said Kiyo. “But I think it’s similar to when Shinobu-san called Tomioka-sensei unpopular.”

Before the situation could escalate – a playful malice thickening the air between Sanemi and Shinobu – Aoi barged into the kitchen.

“Shinobu-san, hurry!” Aoi yelled, running in place. Something was stressing her out exceedingly. “Kitiara has trained against our better judgement. Her fractured ribs make it hard for her to breathe. Her lungs! We need to check them.”

Shinobu nodded, determined. “Sumi, Kiyo, Naho – dinner can wait. We have an emergency. Go!”

“Hai!” The three girls sprinted out of the room in a synchronized manner.

“Wait, who is Kitiara?” Sanemi asked as Shinobu made to leave.

Seriously, she looked over her shoulder. “Your tsuguko, Sanemi. The one you are supposed to make a Hashira.” Without another word, Shinobu left the kitchen.

Suddenly, Sanemi couldn’t find it in himself to care about this Kitiara at all. Star breathing or no star breathing. He didn’t need someone to hold him back. Quietly, he proceeded with dinner preparations, wondering why he wouldn’t just leave and take on a mission.

Right, Oyakata-sama’s will was his path. The way the wind sung and blew.

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sobeautifullyobsessed · 9 months

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Of Magic, Miracles, and Moonlight

a Stephen Strange x OFC Romance

genre: pre-Infinity War, slow burn romance, older man/younger woman, teacher/student to friends to lovers characters: Stephen Strange, Wong, Teyla of Hadeeth (OFC), Moraine of Hadeeth (OC), additional OCs as Kamar-Taj staff rating: general audience to begin with, later chapters contain 18+ material

Ch.One | Ch.Two

Chapter Three

Normally, Masters conducted training in a variety of disciplines, in the main courtyard, or in the smaller open air spaces of the Kamar-Taj complex, regardless of the weather--for sorcerers-in-training required preparation enough to utilize their skills in unpredictable or adverse conditions. Even during monsoon season, this policy was seldom suspended, with the occasional rare exception; and by long-standing tradition, outdoor sessions were canceled only at the discretion of The Ancient One. Since her loss, such a situation had not yet arisen—so it was inevitable that such should fall in a week where Stephen was in residence there, far from his place as Master of the New York Sanctum.

From June through early September, Kathmandu saw rain daily, with intermittent evening thunderstorms. Steven Strange felt every day of that rain as a heightened ache in nearly every joint of his hands. He hadn’t needed to check Doppler radar online to know that a doozey of a storm was headed their way; he’d felt the drop in barometric pressure several hours in advance, and the damp in the air announced itself spectacularly in a persistent, bone-deep throb that did it’s best to distract him from every task he set himself to. Adding insult to injury, his tremors had intensified to the point of equaling those of the beginning months of his recovery. Meditation helped to some extent, but the discomfort remained a constant, like white noise in the background as he moved throughout his day. He kept to himself most of the day, focusing in the later hours on preparing himself to meet with Teyla for their first “lesson”, scheduled after the evening meal.

The winds lashed the rain against his back, while he crossed a courtyard lit by the flash of lightning, the peal of thunder distant enough to inform him that the worst of the storm had finally passed overhead.

She was waiting for him in the library, as they’d arranged, engrossed in a text he recognized from his own early studies, and scribbling notes in a hand that would rival the worst of any doctors’ that he’d known.

Stephen cleared his throat to announce his arrival, but Teyla’s eyes remained cast upon the book in front of her. “Come here often?” he quipped, vying for her attention, swiftly realizing she probably wouldn’t get the humor of that old, banal pick-up line. He set his rucksack on the table, then took the seat opposite her.

She looked up with a start, then smiled sheepishly, “I’m sorry, Doctor Strange—I got a little lost doing the translation here.” She slid the book across the table to him. “It’s the third passage down. I can’t tell if it’s require or recommend.”

He read the passage through, recalling the difficulties for Novices, of translating Sanskrit on sight—made doubly hard, he reckoned, as she might need to translate it first to English, and then into Hadeethan. “It’s ‘pay no heed to’,” he told her, pointing to several words proceeding it, “You need to look at it in context to get the true meaning.” He slid the book back to her.

“Oh—of course! Now it makes sense.” She crossed the incorrect word off her notes, than laid her pencil down, “Thank you, Doctor. I have been stuck a while, trying to work it out.”

Strange reached into his rucksack and pulled his tablet out. “I’ve found this indispensable for translating ancient languages—saves a helluva lot of time.” He handed it to Teyla, who looked immediately perplexed by the device. “I don’t suppose you’ve got one of these,” he asked. She shook her head solemnly. “Okayyyyy—well how about I leave this with you for the evening? It’ll make the hours ahead much more productive for you.”

“That is very kind of you, Doctor Strange, although…well…I have no idea how this thing…”

“This tablet,” he told her.

“Oh. This…tablet. I have no skill with such a tool.” She offered it back to him.

“Well, this one isn’t difficult at all. Let me run through its functions for you, and I’ll bet you’ll be breezing through it in no time.”

Stephen went over the basics, and then showed her how to access various websites pertinent to her studies, including a translation site that he had relied on to get him through his early training. Once she got over her initial distrust of the technology as a sufficient aid for study, Teyla adapted readily, and proved to have a defter hand with it than he had anticipated

Next, he removed several books from his pack and set two of them in front of her. “Now, these texts provide an introduction to clairvoyance and divination. I want you to take some time over the next couple of days, read them through.” Teyla picked one up, and then the other, running her fingers across the titles embossed on the covers. “I’ve bookmarked some sections that I think have a direct bearing on what we’re trying to accomplish here,” he told her, “And if you feel ready, I encourage you to try what exercises you find worth your efforts.”

“I will do my best,” she nodded, “Master Salma said I will be mapping unchartered territory.” She looked down, quietly admitting, “I find it all…very…intimidating.”

“No one will be judging you, Teyla.” She met his eyes at that, searching for assurances. “I promise,” he added, “And if we’re lucky, Kamar-Taj will learn as much from you, and you from us.”

Relief dawned first in her eyes, and then spread softly across her face, “I must admit my mentors on Hadeeth were frustrated when they could not provide teaching enough for me to harness and refine my raw ability for divination. I pray that your efforts to guide me will not be a waste of your valuable time.”

“No effort to teach is wasted when the student is sincere in their desire to learn,” he assured her, his voice low and persuasive, “And that is something I’ve learned as both a student and a teacher myself—and not just of the mystics arts. My medical training was more than a decade long process.”

Strange pulled a plain, leather bound book and pen from the side pocket of his rucksack, “One of the simplest things you can do is keep a record of your dreams. The texts advise you do so nightly—or at least as often as you are able to recall your dreams upon awakening.” He slid the items across the table to her. “Whatever details you can remember without concentrating too hard—otherwise your waking mind will try to add definition to things that don’t make sense…”

Teyla nodded, growing excited, “Why yes—immediately record the images and the events of my dreams. How have I not thought of this myself! To keep a…a dream…”

“…journal,” they finished together. She grinned at him, “Your wisdom has already surpassed that of my Hadeethan teachers.”

He chuckled, “As much as I’d like to, I can’t take credit for the idea, Teyla; it’s a basic beginning in most of these texts. Keep in mind, your best results will come from writing down your first thoughts, no matter how confusing or jumbled they may be. Don’t give your mind a chance to filter or rearrange them in a search for meaning.”

“Yes, yes,” she murmured, “I understand…”

“And your feelings, Teyla. How you felt throughout the dream—and how you feel upon awakening. Even if you wake mid-dream, or in the middle of the night,” he stressed, “Write it down. This should help us see patterns in your dreaming, and eventually enable you to distinguish normal dreams from the prophetic ones.”

And there it was: that light in her eyes and upon her face that reminded him of the simple joy of having an avenue of learning open up before him. As exacting as his medical studies had been, there had always been the deep satisfaction of just knowing he was on the path to knowledge meant for him. And again as he began his studies at Kamar-Taj. As a physician, Stephen had seen that light from time to time, in his best student interns—and had forgotten it could be equally satisfying to the teacher who invoked it in their charges. From a task he’d initially dreaded, he was suddenly glad the situation had forced him to become Teyla’s mentor.

Pleased that he had actually given Teyla something concrete in the way of guidance, Stephen asked how she was faring in her other training. Though she maintained that she would have no need for the physical defensive skills when she returned to Hadeeth, she admitted she was impressed watching the Masters of those disciplines at work—and that she felt every moment of her own workouts in the aching muscles that followed in the aftermath.

“Oh yes, they can hurt like hell the first week or so,” he laughed, “But I guarantee you’ll feel fitter than you have in your whole life by the end of the second.”

Eventually, their conversation made its way back to the subject of her studies with Stephen. “The texts I’ve read so far--I have to admit that they’ve left me curious, Teyla. Would you mind telling me what it’s like?”

“The…the dreams?” She seemed surprised he had asked so plainly.

“Yes. How do they work, exactly?”

Her face scrunched and her eyes took on a faraway look as she considered how to answer. “The dreams have always been with me, as…as far back as my memory goes. As a child, I had no idea they were any different from the dreams of others—and so I found no need to speak of them aloud.”

Quietly, Stephen prompted her, “So when did you realize that they were different?”

Teyla’s voice and manner grew solemn as her recollection came to life. “I was…hmmm…seven years of age. Seven Earth years. And I had dreamed a dream for three nights straight—of my closest friend, Meandra. It was a simple dream, and I had no inclination to question it.” She closed her eyes, enrapt in the pictures her mind created. “Meandra slept beneath a midnight, moonlit sky. Fast asleep; she lay upon a bed of moss beside a small creek.” Her mouth drew into a small, fleeting smile. “My child’s mind believed the dream arose from anticipation of a nature walk our teacher had promised to us. I would never have guessed it was a dream of warning.”

“Teyla,” he murmured, “Whatever happened, I’m sure you shouldn’t have blamed yourself.”

She sighed and looked back to him. “Child that I was, it could not be helped. When Meandra wandered away from the group, nobody noticed until we prepared to leave the forest. The adults searched well into the night, but found no sign of her. We all feared that she was lost to us.”

Stephen remained silent, considering the weight of guilt she may have borne, and at so tender an age. Seeing his concern, Teyla shook her head, “No, good Doctor, it was not a fatal loss—though if I had been less afraid, I might have ended everyone’s woes all the sooner.” She shrugged, and cast her eyes away shamefully, “Through a bitter night, I struggled with my fear that a simple word of warning might have spared Meandra losing her way. And even worse, I fretted that through my dreams, I had worked some sort of dark magic as I slept, which might have cost my friend her life.”

Compelled by sympathy, Stephen took her hand—gingerly, for the continuing discomfort in his own. “You were just a girl; surely no one could expect more of you,” he reminded her, “I hope someone was wise enough to tell you so.”

“Indeed,” she nodded, “With the dawn, I sought my mother out, and revealed my dreadful secret. She bid me wait but a little, so that she could give the searchers a description of where Meandra might be found—and when she returned to me, she gave me only love and comfort.” Teyla’s pretty eyes were soft with that memory. “Meandra was not too worse for wear, and was swiftly reunited with her family. And after I had rested a while—still afraid to sleep, lest I might dream dreadfully—Mother explained the nature of my gift. She called it a blessing, and told me it promised a noble destiny if I could learn to use it for the good of my people.”

Resisting the urge to tell Teyla that laying such a charge on a seven year old was extremely poor parenting, Stephen ventured a guess, “I suppose she feels you’ve come of age to fulfill that destiny?”

“Even so,” she admitted, “But know, good Doctor, that this is my hope as well.”

“Of course,” he told her, “I would expect no less.” Strange withdrew his hand from hers, beginning to gather up the few materials which he now judged too elementary for Teyla to find of use. He winced as he lifted one of the heavier volumes, cursing under his breath as he lost his grip and it landed on the table; the thud echoed through the quiet of the library.

Teyla met his eyes for only seconds, but he read her clear understanding in that brief moment, before she looked to his hands. There was no hiding the tremor in them, but he tried to make light of the moment; sighing with feigned exasperation, “I need to remember this sort of heavy reading requires both hands to be effective.” His self-deprecation fell short of lightening the moment.

“It is the rain, is it not,” she asked cautiously, although Stephen was sure she knew the answer already. Teyla’s eyes lingered once again upon his hands, as though committing the network of scars to memory.

“Yes,” he shrugged, downplaying the degree of his discomfort, “Nature’s little way of keeping me humble.”

“Yet the magic you have worked with them is already legend among the students here.” She smiled at his surprise, “Did you not know?”

Stephen clucked his tongue, “Yeah…well…legends are usually half exaggeration anyway. At least here on Earth. You should take those stories with a grain of salt, Teyla.”

“As you wish, Doctor Strange—but their unstinting admiration of your deeds is genuine.” Demurely, she cast her eyes away and added, “A true hero I have heard you called; one who single-handedly battled one of the darkest forces in the multi-verse.”

Stephen waved her praise off (the simple movement enough to set the joints in that hand throbbing again), “Honestly, Teyla—I only did what any Master here would do if faced with such a catastrophic threat.”

The tilt of her head and her sympathetic little smile spoke her response well enough, leaving Strange feeling a bit self-conscious. Standing up to leave, he would have changed the subject, but that she asked after his hands again. Irritated at her dogged attention to his private pain, he tried his best to answer impassively, “I appreciate your concern, Teyla of Hadeeth, but this is a topic I’d rather not discuss.”

“Forgive me please, Doctor Strange. I would not, for all the world, bring you further pain in this regard.” Teyla bit her lip, looking uncertain for several moments. “Please, do not be angry—but as we have discussed my dreams—and as I am under your tutelage in this regard--there is something I must share with you.”

Between the fresh flare of pain in both his hands—and Teyla’s seeming obsession with his wounds—Stephen’s patience was nearly frayed; he inhaled sharply, “What must you share, that cannot wait for another day?”

The young woman from another world blinked several times, her eyes misted over with unshed tears. “It is only that…that…”

“Yes,” he asked through gritted teeth.

“I have dreamt of your hands, Doctor. And not only since I arrived at Kamar-Taj.” Visibly trembling, Teyla rose from her seat, to face him squarely across the cold distance between them, “I have dreamt your hands many times over, from the day I came to Earth to live with my father…and in the ten Earth years since.”

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