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writing-whump · 2 months

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Could you write a story where Isaiah has a heart episode with Hector and/or Arnie as the caretaker/s?

Hello Nonny! I loved seeing this request, because this is exactly what needed to happen! Just had to get to this point in the story :3 But very very fitting!

Hiding from you

"We are not going."

Isaiah blinked, turning from the door. "Excuse me?"

Matthew shook off his suit jacket in a dramatic gesture. "I'm saying we are not going. You are in no state to go right now, so the evening is canceled. Simple as that."

Isaiah quietly stared in shock at the declaration. They were preparing for the wolf meet for the whole week. Seline was on a trip with her mom, so Matthew agreed to go. Their pack needed to show up as a pack on official social events, to be taken as such. It was time. They should do it.

Besides, Isaiah had a speech tonight and according to his information, Melissa, Matthew's oldest sister, was also supposed to be there. Isaiah planned on talking with her, and Matthew's presence or no presence wasn't going to stop him.

Matthew's eyebrows furrowed in face of Isaiah's silent resistence. "You look like crap. You are hiding it well, but I can tell you are a breath away from an episode. This is nonsense."

Isaiah carefully smoothed his expression of any emotion, a cold kind of certainly settling over him like second skin.

Matthew had been on a lookout since that fateful night, when he saw Isaiah getting sick from the heart pain. Isaiah knew he messed that up spectacularly, but he never dreamed of the consequences being this long-lasting.

Or that Matthew would get so good at reading the signs that Isaiah was training himself to ignore.

There was a bit of weakness for the last day or two, but he was just tired. His chest was tight, like it was turning to cement, too tense, and his breathing came short and difficult after just a bit of walking or stairs, but he probably just breathed wrong.

This wasn't an episode, this wasn't regular. It wasn't serious.

He wasn't even stressed about anything, there was no cause, so there could by no means be an episode. This was nonsense. He wasn't going to get sick for no apparent reason.

And not Matthew or anyone else, were going to make him. He had changed reality as it suited him many times before. He could do it again.

"Suit yourself. I'm going," Isaiah said resolutely.

He didn't raise his voice, but Matthew still flinched. "Fine. I can't convince you even for your own good? Whatever. But you are not going to make me watch."

Isaiah said nothing. Theathrics he knew well. No point in entertaining them.

"See you later," Isaiah said coldly. "Or not, I guess." It was difficult to close the door without slamming them. But he managed all the same.

...

Isaiah held the speech short.

He had talked with Seline about holding his audience's attention, changing the tone, gesticulating, making pauses at the right time. She watched her students, made notes about different professors and their techniques and had a whole lot of tips to explain and give him. There were so many styles to try.

Now Isaiah knew wolves didn't like speeches and lectures any more than humans did. Especially if he was about to talk about humanity and its advantages, what humans could do, were free to do, where wolves were not.

Talking about shadows as a burden and responsibility instead of a superpower, not entirely a curse, but closer to it, was not something many would agree with. Everyone wanted to think what they had was better. It was hard to go against what someone wanted to see.

But if a wolf with a powerful shadow talked about humans and their weakness as if it was a strength - their freedom to express emotion, their anger and joy not enhanced by their shadow, not having to hold back in what they felt couldn't be trusted not to sourced from an entity made entirely of their most primitive self-centered instincts. Humans had rules and control, selflessness and empathy, the need to belong and go with the flow and pressure, where wolves would think of themselves and only their pack.

Isaiah studied it and he wanted to embody it to the packs gathered at the event. He wanted them to realize the limitations of their shadows, the beauty of their human sides and the respect and jealousy in their contempt for humans.

But he cut it short, counting the uncomfortable silence as a reaction enough, before he stepped away from the toast. One step at a time.

The hall slowly went back to chit chat and quiet conversations as Isaiah drunk his glass of champagne, listening for reactions here and there.

"Most impressive speech, Mr Wolfson. One would almost believe you care about us humans." Melissa's hair was as red as her brother's, though long and tightly bound back from her face.

"Thank you," Isaiah said, pulling out one of his thoughtful smiles. Not too happy or large, but appreciative in a polite, gently genuine way.

He didn't like what a distinction she made between humans and wolves. Between herself and him.

"Though I'm disappointed. I thought we were already on the first-name basis with each other."

Melissa's nose wrinkled like he said something revolting. "You have expressed such wish, yes. Though I don't know why you think inviting my good for nothing brother into your pack makes me more inclined to agree. If anything, all the respect I had for you had been diminished by your choice."

Isaiah made a puzzled expression, eyebrows slightly raised. He let the smile stay put to not look unfriendly. "That is an awfully sad thing to say about your own family."

Melissa scoffed. "He is not family. He is a coincidenal blood related problem of my mother. A scary uncontrollable temperamental wolf that brought us or the world nothing of value."

Isaiah took a sip from his glass. "Hard judgment from someone who never bothered to get to know him. Or are these your mother's words that I'm hearing?"

Melissa's frown deepened, cheeks flushing. Isaiah smiled wider. He had seen this exact frown before he left. Puzzling, how similar it was.

Suggesting Melissa had no opinion of her own was a daring move. Maybe too sensitive. Not born a witch, the oldest daughter of the Blackwell pack had been undoubted haunted by that disappointment, just like she was with the amount of siblings until her mother had her youngest daughter - the long awaited, treasured and strictly protected little girl.

Marcella.

Ironically enough the only person in the family that gave Matthew any benefit of the doubt, despite the 10 years old age difference.

There was no win in humiliating the Blackwell's family hard-working doctor by proving her she was wrong.

"Come meet him," Isaiah suggested, feeling the right moment of shock took Melissa's words from her for a few seconds. "Come see for yourself what he is like. With a pack, goals, in process of getting a degree. Matthew just wants contact with his sister, is that so much to ask?"

Melissa's eyes glittered. "He just wants too meet her because she is a witch. That's all that's connecting them. There are enough wolves all over town who want to make that claim. On a 10 year old girl. Explain to me what a 20 something guy wants to do with a small child. Even if I could not mind his shadow," Melissa put her finger up in the air as Isaiah opened his mouth to protest, "I don't see why he would want that. They live in completely different worlds. Our mother has the right to decide if they should stay separate."

Isaiah watched her with gravity, pulse quickening. "Did you ask what she wants?"

"Childish and naive. She doesn't know what she wants. But if she still insists, she can meet him when she turns 18."

Isaiah raised one eyebrow at her. "You really believe she will have that much leeway...ever in her life?"

Melissa looked away, hurt flashing over her face. She took a deep breath, schooling her expression. He knew that move very well. "Have a good evening, Mr Wolfson."

He accepted the diamissal for what it was, nodding to her. His chest was tight, his heart running a mile a minute against his ribcage.

He felt light-headed with the pressure. Did he just make it better or did he make it worse? It seemed like a long road ahead of them. But he still thought Melissa was the most likely to become a connection to Marcella.

He stumbled, taking a deep breath. Time to get out of here, before he blacked out in front of all the packs in the giant city hall.

...

Hector struggled to keep the glass of champagne in his hand intact.

Speeches about humans being better than wolves!

As if they could even compare! Those weak little things, no shadows, no healing, no strength, no packs. They just had the power of numbers and years of research and technology. Otherwise wolves would be ruling. They certainly should.

Of course Isaiah had to be there, take all the attention for himself and then make big speeches complimenting humans right when Hector was there.

So now everyone wanted to know what he meant and if Hector thought the same thing, since he also went to a human university, and was it really necessary to wolves? Did it really have any value? Was it worth it being around crowds of ignorant humans, who didn't know how to act around them, how to respect them? Protecting themselves with their measly laws made from fear?

Hector was scoffing and denying and grunting the whole evening, his shadow trembling with anger. Such nonsense. He liked the school and he liked the city, but for Shadow's sake, such talks of humans having more free lives than wolves...

He had never thought about it like that. When did Isaiah even come up with such nonsense? Certainly not from their Father. Father valued strong shadows and strong wolves, and witches who knew what they were doing. Humans weren't even worthwhile to consider enemies.

Maybe they should have a talk about it. Or maybe not. Hector wasn't sure he wanted to put himself through the painful confusion that was talking with his big brother about anything.

Where did Isaiah even go? It was like he suddenly disappeared from the hall.

Hector looked around, trying not to look too suspicious. All directions were clear. His second or his witch didn't show up. Lame. Very lame.

He found Isaiah at the balcony at the side with the view of the parking lot that led into the gardens. The most boring view on the lowest of the floors. It was empty because of that.

Isaiah stood there, gripping the railings, eyes focused into the distance. Like he was hypnotising something.

Hector considered just leaving him there, but couldn't resist a snarky comment. "If I had a speech that embarassing, I would be hiding here too."

Isaiah stiffened, a slight wince to his left shoulder. "Ah. Really? I thought it was rather good."

Hector rolled his eyes, stepping closer. "So very humble of you. It was totally lame. I can't believe we share a last name. Now everyone will think I'm the same sentimental fool you are. Which doesn't make sense, since you don't even have stupid humans in your own pack."

Isaiah chuckled dryly, voice quiet. "I have a human brother."

Hector winced at that. Yeah. Arnie was his brother too. He had somehow never counted as human or stupid or lame to Hector. Completely objective opinion.

"You focus too much on being a good wolf that you oversee your human possibilities," Isaiah said breathily. His voice went even quiter than before.

Now that Hector thought about it, there was something off about Isaiah's breathing pattern. It was too fast, too choked.

Hector leaned his elbows on the railing, trying to get a glimpse at Isaiah's face without looking like he was. Was he drunk? Poisoned? What the hell?

"Shouldn't you...go inside?" Isaiah asked suddenly, his voice weirdly amused. Too amused. Too happy. "Don't want to be caught with such an embarassment of a brother, do you?"

Hector bit his lip. Maybe he shouldn't have said that when things were still so fragile between them. Plus something about Isaiah's tone really bothered him.

"Don't tell me what to- Isaiah?"

Isaiah swayed, like literally tilted to the side, despite his grip on the railing. His knees buckled and he lowered himself to the ground like he couldn't stand anymore.

Hector's eyes went wide and he stared in a horrified frozen silence for a few seconds at Isaiah sitting on the ground.

His head was bowed, black hair falling into his face, but Hector could now see his hands were trembling, and that his breaths came more like short little gasps.

Isaiah tried to laugh, then broke himself off with a wince. "Look at that. You said my name. Haven't heard you...say it....for a long time."

Hector knelt down opposite Isaiah, still in shock. "Ehhh, what the- what's wrong with you?"

Isaiah waved a hand dismissively, but the movement was shaky and his arm made a weird wincing stop and turned towards his chest, turning sharply away barely from touching it.

Hector followed the gesture. "Something is wrong." He swallowed, feeling out of place, looking around, half-expecting the moon to blow up or the stars to fall from the sky.

This just didn't happen. Isaiah didn't get hurt and he didn't get sick and he didn't fall to the floor and make gasping noises like he couldn't breathe.

"Go back. It's fine," Isaiah wheezed.

Hector finally caught a glimpsed at his face under his bangs. Isaiah was glistening with sweat and his eyes were bloodshot with such obvious pain Hector's whole body shivered with it in resonance. He felt his shadow wiggle and growl.

"What the hell is going on with you? Where is your shadow? Heal yourself!" Hector whisper-yelled, the realization suddenly downing at him.

There were in the middle of a fucking wolf meet.

Every powerful pack had a representative here and Isaiah was a powerful wolf, a famous wolf. Seeing him like this, they would tear him to pieces.

An icy inkling of panic ran down Hector's back. He shuffled to Isaiah, wrapping a hand around his middle and hurriedly hoisting him up. "Get up, we are leaving."

Isaiah swayed in his hold like he was drunk, legs barely holding under him. Hector took most of his weight, dragging them both towards the stairs. Better get out here than through the main entrance.

"Where...where are we going?" Isaiah slurred as Hector helped him down the stairs awkwardly, half-huggung Isaiah to his side.

"Back to your place, I presume. You need help. Where the hell is your stupid pack when you need them?"

"Huh," Isaiah chuckled, that too amused off scary sound Hector was starting to hate very much. "You don't need to bother either. Shouldn't see you with me...when I'm like this. It could be embarrassing."

"Shut the hell up," Hector snapped, ducking under the balcony and towards the parking lot. He hated he had said it at all, gloom gathering in the pit of his stomach. Isaiah never sounded so hurt and so in denial and amused about it at the same time. Like his mask and his pain blended together, letting him see for the first time how much of it there was.

"Just tell me what's wrong. Are you hurt? Silver? Poison? What is this?!"

Isaiah coughed a little, going more limp in Hector's hold with each step. "Look at that. He cares."

Hector flushed, voice jumping up. "Of fucking course I fucking care if you die-"

Isaiah suddenly stopped, freezing in place. A full bodied shiver ran through him, so Hector stopped as well. "Isaiah?"

Isaiah swallowed heavily, then leaned forward with a wheezing cough that wracked his frame all over.

Hector put a hand to his chest to hold him steady, afraid of Isaiah falling forward, when the coughing turned into gags.

Hector flinched, hearing liquid gurgle up Isaiah's throat as he vomited up yellow tinged champagne and some chunks of ham and olives right in front of them. The puke splattered against their shoes.

Hector almost jumped away in disgust, but Isaiah moaned quietly, which stopped him in his tracks. He went back to holding him up, one arm around Isaiah's back and the other against his chest as Isaiah shivered again and heaved up more vomit.

When the gagging tempered off, Hector grabbed Isaiah's arm to wrap it around his neck. "Just a few steps to the car and you can sit down," Hector managed to say, feeling completely lost and incompetent in face of such sickness.

Isaiah wheezed and wheezed beside him, hand going to his left side of the chest openly this time. He dug his fingers into the suit and white shirt under it, face contorted in pain.

Hector opened his car, settling Isaiah into the passenger seat and crouched down next to him. Lost and terrified out of his mind. This wasn't normal.

Isaiah sat with his legs still out the car, but leaned against the seats, both hands massaging his chest. There was a permanent painful frown on him how that he wasn't trying to hide.

"Your...car?" Isaiah breathed brokenly.

"Yeah. I don't know where yours is and I don't care."

"Will get...sick on the way."

"I don't care," Hector repeated. "Just tell me what do I fucking do? Please?"

Isaiah's unfocused eyes narrowed at the question, looking for Hector's gaze. "I'm fine. This is nothing. Shhhhh."

Hector balled his hands into fists, realizing he wasn't getting an answer. Even out of breath and in pain, his brother wouldn't tell him anything that mattered.

Accepting the anger about this wouldn't help anything, Hector got up, moving Isaiah's legs, one by one into the car and circling around to the driver's seat.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, Hector burying his face in his hands, while Isaiah wheezed and coughed, hands againd this heart. Hector couldn't smell blood or see any injuries, but he could tell that was the source. Whatever it was.

"Hospital? Clinic? What's with your shadow?" He was aware there was a ting of panic in his voice, but couldn't fight it.

Isaiah shook his head, wincing. "There is no help with this. No shadow. It will go away on its own."

Hector watched him with wide horrified eyes, feeling nausea rise in his throat at the very idea of a problem like that. What could possibly be so incurable, so unsolvable? What was this thing?

"Drive me home? That...would help."

"I will." Hector wanted to touch him, comfort him, help him somehow. His shadow was shaking, all but weiling inside him, but he didn't let it out. There would be enough time for that later.

Hector started the car, his eyes burning with helplessness, when he felt a weight on his shoulder.

Isaiah leaned his forehead against it, breathing in those short little bursts, but his face relaxed a tiny bit. "Sorry. Just let me stay like this...for a second?"

Hector's shoulders slumped as he turned his head to lean against Isaiah's sweaty wheezing form with his cheek. He held his breath.

This was the closest they were together in years and he hated that pain was the reason.

"Yeah," Hector whispered back.

@bellysoupset

#sickfic #emeto #hurt/comfort #whump #whump writing #werewolf wip #my writing #also meeting Matt's sister Melissa in this one :D #Isaiah

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ketsueki-writes · 11 months

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Hello! Just stumbled across your page and can't wait to catch up on all your works! So so good 😚

I was hoping to request off of your Play a Game With Me prompt. I'd love to see your idea for "Stop it before I hurt you" for either Hawks or Endeavor and either Light or Dark depending whatever moods you think flows best 🖤🔥✨

and the descent has begun! reminder that I'm opening a lot of old events and you should totally join in on the fun! check em out and send me as many requests as you'd like! i have also stumbled across a nice little roleplay discord! hop on in

WARNINGS:

♡ Keigo

You walked down the street-adjacent sidewalk, your outfit fitting your body nicely as you held your small bag full of goodies in your left hand. You looked back at the winged hero, his eyes trained and focused on you. He needed to be near you. He was your hero, your protector. Of course, soon you'd be his, in his home- but now was not the right time. You didn't even notice how protective- how possessive his feelings towards you have become. To you, the two of you were friends-

to him, you were friends- for now.

You were surprised not even sure you heard him right when he said he was taking you out. It was such a quick and decided declaration, it felt strange coming from the naturally nonchalant hero. It didn't bother you and you accepted it with a joyful glee. The two of you went out, Keigo even hired security to keep his lovestruck fans at bay. He wanted you to know all of his attention was focused on you.

It wasn't long however before you noticed Snipe on his patrol.

Your eyes lit up, you'd always been a fan, especially after his recent breakthrough saving in the news. He brought in a ton of good press which landed him on everyone's radar and in everyone's good favor.

And he was heading right towards you.

You looked up at him, stopping right in front of him. You smiled as you looked into his eyes. "I'm such a big fan of yours" you managed to blurt out, receiving a slight chuckle from him. "I'm starting to become one of yours, may we take a picture?" he responded. You felt your cheeks go red, slightly flustered from his flirty response as you moved to grab your phone.

His hand slipped onto your waist as you turned, pressing your back to his chest as you lifted your phone to get a selfie. You caught a glimpse of Keigo's stare- his glare.

His eyes narrowed on the two of you as Snipe's hand held you gently but firmly. You quickly looked up at the camera, smiling wide as you snapped a photo. You turned, facing the hero again as you took a step back from him. You felt a bit of surprise when your back crashed right into the winged hero's chest. You gasped a bit, laughing it off. You didn't expect him to be so close. You began to talk to Snipe, brushing it off before you felt Keigo's palm pressed against your back.

"Cut it out, stop flirting," he said, his voice husky in your ear as he spoke. You cleared your throat, caught off guard slightly as you went back to your convo before the hand on your back snaked up to the nape of your neck. You felt a firm hold against you as his voice- now more threatening than before- sounded into your ear again.

"Stop it before I hurt you."

You froze. Quickly making up an excuse to Snipe, you walk past him, leaving him in a slight bit of shock. Keigo moved with you, walking directly behind you as the two of you walked off. Once you both were a good distance away he released you, sliding his hands back into his pockets. "Good girl," he said, moving to stand by your side. You felt his arm wrap around you. You couldn't quite process everything that you were feeling, but what you did know was that at this moment,

you were all his, helpless to him. You even heard his whisper in your ear

"You're all mine."

#♡ketsueki writes #♡let's play a game event!#♡lets play a game event!#yandere #yandere mha #yandere my hero #yandere my hero academia #yandere bnha #yandere boku no hero #yandere boku no hero academia #yander hawks #yandere keigo #yandere keigo takami #yandere keigo x y/n #yandere keigo x you #yandere keigo x reader #yandere mha x reader #yandere my hero x you #yandere my hero x y/n

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entamesubs · 2 months

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Yu-Gi-Oh! Go Rush!! Episodes 100 + 101 Sub Release

Torrent

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Please make sure to read the FAQ if you have any questions.

There are translation notes below, so spoilers ahead.

-------------------------------

Episode 100 was translated and proofread jointly by angelthinktank (Yona) and batsugeemu (Tessa). I only reworded some minor sentences, did the onion joke, and tightened up word choice to flow better.

A big thanks to the two of them for picking up this episode for me, as I couldn't be available to work on it.

"A radish side." "I'm more of a pickled onion person myself!"

This is a reference to some obscure beef between Japanese curry enthusiasts on which side dish is better with the curry.

There's fukujinzuke, which is basically the side dish that looks like a bunch of red bits that you get everywhere — ie, radish. There's also rakkyou, a lesser-known side dish that consists of pickled Chinese green onions (scallions), which you don't normally get.

Anyway, there's a lot of fighting online about which is the better side dish to eat curry with. It's a very passionate topic for people who are invested.

Personally, I also enjoy rakkyou more.

それはラッキー "That's layered."

Yes, Rovian is saying "that's lucky" here.

However, it's also supposed to be a joke/pun on the word rakkyou sounding like rakki (lucky). So, to make the joke fit the previous line better in English, we make the Shrek joke.

-------------------------------

Episode 101 is back to normal staffing!

だってキミもこれから… "After all, you'll also become..."

More accurately, Yuuga says "after all, from now on you'll..." and it gets cut off.

The implication here is that Yuuga means Zwijo won't stop him because he knows Zwijo will also become Yuudias' "enemy" shortly, as this conversation takes place right before the events of episode 98. Zwijo's responses afterword commenting on the fact that Yuuga is alone as he undertakes his mission cements this.

Therefore, I tried to make it more obvious by adding "you'll also become" with the implication that the missing word is "an enemy".

Yuamu's dialogue

"Is it supposed to be that vague—" Yes.

I tried to translate it as close-sounding to the original Japanese as possible, with all the random stops and weird cut-offs. If her sentences sound weirdly unfocused and the English reads a little too vague, know that it was on purpose.

#yugioh #yugioh go rush #go rush #ygo go rush #go rush spoilers #entamesubs release #E100 #E101 #wow i can't believe we actually used that triple digit #i future proofed it back when i was determining how to organize the tagging system on this blog way in the beginning of the group #it's a little surreal to actually see the future proofing work out #welcome to the triple digits everyone!

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inkinthequill · 7 months

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🔞 Moms Need Loving, Too 😔🔞

Aptera is a single-mom in desperate need of some free time. Clearly, a babysitter is in order. She meets a strapping, buff college student at her local gym that would work. But, oh no! Aptera's strapped for cash right now... I bet you can guess what happens next!

Being a single mom was hard work.

Not only did Aptera have to balance all the childcare and housework on her own, but she also had to balance a job to pay for all their expenses as well. She was never angry or embittered about her situation. However, it was still exhausting, and she couldn't be there 24/7...

What she needed... was a babysitter.

That was a lot harder than most people might realize. First was the matter of finding someone she trusted to look after her child... and then being able to budget enough money to pay them, as well. Her addiction to true crime series had the unfortunate downside of making her hyper-paranoid of having ANY potential stranger left alone with her child.

Recently, however, she had a spot of luck.

In the little free time she had, she had started visiting a local gym; her job was stuffy and not very active, so she needed something to keep her moving and in shape. During her visits, she had met a college-age woman named Sara who stepped in to help her out when Aptera couldn't figure out how to use one of the machines.

It was pretty clear Sara knew how to use all of the machines. She stood a head above any of the men in the gym, built like a professional athlete, and was staggeringly pretty. Thick, silver hair flowed down her shoulders (when it wasn't tied up in a ponytail), sharp eyes paired with soft, seafoam green irises.

Needless to say, every time Sara walked over and started spending an abundance of time helping her out, Aptera had to try incredibly hard to focus on her exercise and not just... her.

Her repressed, yet steadily growing thirst aside, there was something even more important she was taking away from her frequent meetings with Sara. She was incredibly sweet. Considering she was in college, Aptera had no doubt she would mind a side job for some extra cash as well. So it was that she offered the babysitting job to Sara; though, she did take a bit of convincing. Not because she necessarily didn't want to do it at all, but more because she expressed a bit of nerves about being able to properly take care of a kid.

Over time, though, it turned out that she was a natural fit for it. After a bit of hand-holding and a pretty frequent amount of texts the first couple of times she babysat for Aptera, she had fallen into the role quite spectacularly. Aptera frequently came home to her daughter sound asleep, or all-smiles as Sara doted on her, played games with or, or otherwise spoiled her just a little bit.

There was just a little snag, though.

More money problems. Unexpected bills were a universal woe to most people, and of course, it struck Aptera as well. She was already decently frugal, having learned many tricks from her experience as a single mother; but that didn't stop a stray expense from hitting her when she really did not need one, currently.

What was a woman to do?

She needed to work more hours, but she wouldn't be receiving a check for said hours for at least two weeks...

At the same time, she didn't want to leave Sara high and dry when no doubt, she also had her own expenses to pay.

She came one night, late after working far too many hours to need to balance other worries on her mind right now. Nonetheless, she had to break the news to Sara.

When she came home, the woman was waiting outside her daughter's door, sitting against it and checking her phone. When it came to her bedtime, Sara frequently waited outside the door in case the kid started having a bad dream, or otherwise started calling out in distress. The extra-fast response time tended to get her back to sleep faster, Sara frequently told her.

“Um... hey, Sara...” Aptera said, her voice dry from a day's worth of answering calls.

“Evening, Aptera,” Sara replied, giving her a cheery, if tired smile. “Everything go okay at work?”

“Yeah... yeah, it was fine,” Aptera said with a nod, idly fidgeting with her hands. “She asleep...? Things went all fine, I imagine...?”

“Of course,” Sara said firmly, giving her a thumbs-up. “Got all her energy out earlier, and now she's out like a light.”

“Good... good. Thank you so much, Sara...” Aptera sighed with relief, a finger tugging into her blouse. “I... there is an issue, though...”

“Oh yeah? What's wrong?”

“Well, money is a little tight right now, so... I can pay you for tonight, but it'll be a bit before I can afford to have you babysit again...”

Sara blinked, completely stone-faced. “I mean, you don't have to pay me. I'm here to help, not for the money.“

Aptera stiffened in surprise, almost freezing in place. ”A-Are you sure? Really?“

“Well, yeah. The cash was just a bonus, I don't want you paying me if it's stretching you thin or causing problems.”

Part of Aptera felt guilty... while Sara was willing to help, she did feel bad at the idea of her taking all that time out of her day for nothing in return...

“T-There... is one solution, I can think of, though...” Aptera said, her body flushing as a suspicious look arose in her eyes.

“Hm?” Sara said, tilting her head curiously and raising an eyebrow. “Like I said, you don't have to stress yourself over any of that.”

Aptera cleared her throat, extending a finger as if to hush Sara. “Just... come with me for a second, okay...?” she whispered, extending her hand.

“I... well, okay...” Sara said, taking her hand-- Aptera leading her toward her bedroom...

+ + + +

“A-Aptera...”

“Shhh... just sit back and relax, okay?” the woman replied quietly. Sara was sitting on the edge of the mother's bed, Aptera situation between her knees and pinching her zipper.

Aptera slowly pulled the zipper downwards, letting out a quiet gasp as she spotted the size of the immense bulge she was unveiling. It was covered by soft, blue boxers, which did little to hide her rapidly stiffening shaft.

Aptera hooked her fingers into the belt loops on Sara's pants, tugging them downwards and giving the bulge a long, slow kiss through her underwear. The college girl bit down on her lip, fingers curling into the bedsheets and gripping them tight. Aptera's lips were plush, full, and ever so soft, and Sara could feel as much even through the thin fabric separating them from her cock.

Aptera hooked her fingertips into the waistband of her boxers next, tugging them downwards to reveal her prize. Well, this wasn't supposed to be her “paying” Sara, but... perhaps it was a bit more mutual than that.

What a prize it was, though.

Aptera's mouth hung open as Sara's girthy cock swung up to full mast in front of her face, paired with heavy, full balls from her teasing. The single mother was sure she had never seen such a massive package in her life...

“It's so... big... ❤️” Aptera said with a shaky outward breath, the heat of which rolled up the shaft and caused it to twitch and throb.

The woman found herself immediately gravitating to Sara's balls, pushing her lips against them in an open-mouth kiss. A hand reached up to play with the fat, uncut tip of Sara's cock, half-moaning into her balls as she smeared the girl's precum into her palm.

“A-Ahh...” Sara moaned, clearly doing her best to keep her voice quiet. It wasn't like they had the chance to just leave for a hotel and be as loud as they liked, so there was the added pressure of keeping their voices down... despite how difficult that was with how intensely Aptera was worshipping her balls and teasing her cock.

For Sara, this felt like a dream. She would have been lying if she said she hadn't thought about Aptera in this way on a few lonely nights— or, perhaps even stealing some glances at the woman's round, pillowy ass while helping her at the gym. Seeing her like this was on a whole different level, though... seeing the woman's gorgeous face, pressed against her crotch with such a lustful expression...

The mature woman slowly raised her face from her balls, steadily jerking her off while staring up at her with a lewd smile. “Poor baby... you're so pent up...” she moaned, giving the underside of the girl's dick a long, slow lick upwards. “How much have you wanted me to do something like this...?”

“A... lot...” Sara murmured, weakly.

Aptera giggled, opening her blouse to expose more of her chest; before taking hold of her dick again, and easing the thick head of Sara's cock in between her waiting lips— letting out a hum of satisfaction as she swirled her tongue around it. Sara closed her eyes and let out a soft, restrained gasp, having to bite a finger to keep her voice down. Aptera pulled off with a wet pop, continuing to pump the girl's shaft with her hand as she grinned up at her.

”Naughty girl... what were you thinking you would do with such a massive thing? Did you want to have your way with me? Make me all yours? ❤️“

”Y-Yes, ma'am...“ Sara said after a moment of embarrassed hesitation, her breath ragged as her tip continued to leak with signs of her immense arousal.

Aptera bit her lip as she eyed up Sara's huge cock and athletic body one more time, before letting go of the shaft. The girl let out a whine at the sudden absence of stimulation but quieted down when she saw Aptera stand up, push up her skirt, and slowly drop her panties down her legs-- kicking it off one leg and leaving it dangling precariously off the other.

The woman moved onto the bed past Sara, laying down on her back and propping up her head with a pillow; looking directly at Sara with a hungry glint in her eyes and slowly spreading her legs, clad in pantyhose. Her dark brown hair spilled beautifully the sheets, framing her pretty face perfectly. Sara could see just how soaked Aptera had gotten this whole time, waiting for her to come over and slip herself inside...

“Come on then, honey... show me just what you wanted to do to me...” Aptera teased, beckoning her over with a finger.

Sara didn't need any more invitation than that.

In seconds, she was on top of Aptera. Too heated to remain polite about it, she quickly tore into Aptera's pantyhose with a hand, enough to expose the woman's pussy to grind against and press into with the tip of her cock. Aptera gave her a teasing gasp, giggling at how eager and needy the younger girl had gotten. “Oh! ❤️ So rough ❤️” Aptera said, her voice raising an octave as she felt the tip of Sara's dick pressing against her entrance.

As the mother looked down at the cock currently being lined up with her pussy, she wasn't entirely sure if the whole thing would even fit in her...

Of course, that didn't stop the over-eager college student from suddenly thrusting her hips forward, both of their eyes rolling up at the same time; Sara from sinking into the tight pussy of the woman she'd lusted over for weeks, and Aptera from feeling Sara quickly filling every last inch of her. The woman felt her body stretching to take all of Sara's girth, each inch of it striking a spot that made her back arch as it pressed forward. Aptera almost came on the spot, having to cover her mouth to prevent herself from moaning at an obscene volume.

Sara groaned as she felt herself fully bottom out inside of her, the two of them panting as they both took a moment to adjust and get used to the sensation. The babysitter, deciding to get a better angle, hooked her arms underneath Aptera's legs and raised them into the air-- the mother letting out a delighted gasp, and a low coo of pleasure as Sara finally started thrusting her hips. Her high-heels dangled uselessly off her feet as her legs swayed with every pump from Sara, hearts in Aptera's eyes as the girl's cock began to rhythmically hammer against her womb.

“You... you feel so good, Miss Aptera...” Sara did her best to whisper, though she was struggling to keep her voice down enough as is.

“Y-You flirt ❤️“ Aptera purred, her breath sharp and ragged as Sara fucked her. Her sweat was hot on her skin as the girl worked her body over, Sara frequently kissing her legs and groping her body all over where and when she could. It was crystal clear just how much she craved her, feeling up her chest, her hips, squeezing her thighs... “You didn't even ask if you should put on a condom ❤️ Are you trying to knock me up, Sara? ❤️” the mother teased, staring up at her with unrepentant lust.

She had expected the girl to get flustered. She didn't expect Sara to get even more turned on.

The girl immediately folded Aptera's legs in half as she laid upon her, pinning her heels by the sides of the head as she started ruthlessly pounding her pussy. Sara did her best to quiet the two of them by leaning and stealing a kiss— passionately making out with the woman as she laid claim to her body.

Aptera moaned helplessly into Sara's mouth, her eyes rolling back up into her head as she felt her thoughts slip away from her. Every thrust was at a perfect angle to drive her crazy, feeling herself clamp down on her dick repeatedly in orgasmic bliss. She could feel Sara's dick twitch and throb inside her, the girl breaking the kiss and panting-- still unable to keep her hips from pumping away inside her.

“S-Should... should I pull out...?”

“N-Noo ❤️ Inside ❤️ Please, knock me up! ❤️” Aptera moaned in response, gasping in delight and arching her back as she immediately felt Sara's body tense up and give her exactly what she wanted.

A torrent of thick, hot cum started flooding Aptera's waiting womb; so much of which, that it began to spill out of her as Sara emptied those heavy, pent-up balls inside of her.

The pair panted together heatedly, kissing and squeezing and touching each other in a blissful trance for a good while; Aptera's legs weakly hugging the woman's torso to keep her from pulling out.

“Was... was that good, Miss Aptera...?”

“The best... ❤️” the mother murmured, kissing the girl's face. “Stay a little longer...?”

Sara nodded, her face flushing just as red as the rest of her body had grown at this point. ”I think... I think I'd like that, ma'am.“

Aptera squeezed her tighter, giggling and kissing her neck.

”Good... 'cause I'm still not done with you, girly ❤️“

#tag a friend who's always waking up pregnant #smut

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sapphic-woes · 1 year

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ambessa giving maid! reader a day or two.. or three off- because shes been working so hard and ambessa has barely seen her all week!(she misses you too but she wont ever admit it out loud)

in your days off she will let you make all the choices for how the day will go, you wanna sleep in? she already has you wrapped up in her arms. then by the time you have to return to your usual work she asks if you would like to resign and live by her side, you dont need to do anything your not built to work- you can just be her pretty little thing and of course you say yes because who could ever turn down such an offer??

Hmmm since I cannon the maid to be her chambermaid she'd be the one to mostly have Ambessa by her side, at least to help her dress, bathe, etc etc. But maybe Ambessa has a lot of business to take care of, so even those moments are cut short and you're left idly dusting the room.

I think Ambessa would notice how down you seem, though she knows you wouldn't voice it aloud. You're too kind and understanding for that.

So, one night when Ambessa returns late, she decided to help you unwind instead.

Like, I imagine you move to remove her outer garments, but she does it herself first. You're so confused, murmuring a soft "My lady...?" As Ambessa silently strips, till all she has on is her tight tank top and boxers. It's a marvelous sight–getting to see how her body fit her clothing so well, and the way her muscles moved as she turned to kneel before you.

Wait...kneel?

You're lost for words, frozen as Ambessa reaches out to take your hand, planting a chaste kiss against it.

"May I?" The chivalrous manner greatly contrasts the desire in her eyes, and you politely nod, earning a deep chuckle as Ambessa turns you around.

"You have worked hard, my love. Let me reward you." She unzips your dress delicately, letting it pool at your feet with a sigh. She'd missed this. Your soft glow and pretty body, all the ridges and scars that decorated your skin. The work of a maid was unforgiving, and Ambessa cherished the proof of your labour.

"My lady, you have also done much today, I insist that I–" Your protest was cut short, gasping as Ambessa sunk her teeth into the side of your neck. Her hands palmed your breasts, pinching your nipples and eliciting a moan from your lips.

"Hush." Such a simple command, yet it still made you grew more wet in response. You keeled forward, trembling in pleasure as Ambessa began to let her kisses wander across your body.

"I want you, my dear. How might I serve you? You have the ruler of Noxus at your disposal." Ambessa murmured as she kissed as suckled at your skin, determined to leave a map of her handiwork afterwards.

You felt lost under the flow of her touch, helplessly lost in pleasure. How long had it been? Ambessa had been so busy these days, and while you understood, while you didn't want to bother her...

"...My lady, I have been in need lately..." You whispered, embarrassed to admit it aloud. Ambessa only hummed.

"Of?" A beat of silence passed. Your cheeks were bright red, burning as you struggled to get the words out.

"To be. Um, filled with you my lady. I...do not mind working later in the day tomorrow–!"You squeaked as Ambessa pulled you into a deep, heated kiss, as if she hoped to brand her name across your lips. Vaguely, you registered her arms wrapping around your body and lifting you up, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around her waist.

"Take the entire day." Ambessa swiftly said, taking long strides towards the bathing pools. Your stomach twisted something wonderful. You couldn't help but smile brightly back at her.

"As you wish, my lady."

---

Ok wrote this via phone so it's short🤷🏿‍♀️ but yeah it's such a cute idea, though I really like the maid staying as one lmao. Save for the marriage au you'll always be Ambessa's lil' maid😌

#ambessa x reader #ambessa medarda #arcane ambessa #arcane x reader #arcane headcanon

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tripthelightfandomtastic · 2 years

Text

Muse -S.F.K

Author's Note: Wow, what a labor of love and anger this story has been for me. I took a bit of a break because holy shit life got real and crazy but it’s here! I wanna thank all of the Gresties that helped proof read this and also for their words of encouragement and support to help me get through writing this story @maverick-rose and @builtbymachine @jake-kiszkas-smirk I ended up really loving this story and I really hope you do too.

This is the 3 out of 4 of installment of my Royalty Series, go check out Whiplash J.M.K and Shining Armor D.R.W to read more of the Royalty Series (its not a connected series, but they are all period pieces!)

Synopsis: When you meet an artist that sweeps you off of your feet, you go to great lengths just to see the beautiful commoner again.

Word Count: 7.1K (it took 2 months it's gonna be long lol)

Pairing: Commoner!Sam x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Foul language, oral, slight voyeurism, light dom/sub (if you squint), raw sex (Wrap it before you tap your royal painter)

Muse -S.F.K

“There's just something not quite right.” You say, staring at the portrait before you, your father, the king, standing beside you, tea cup in hand as he admires the painting. “I just can’t put my finger on it…” You say, stepping closer to the canvas, hand touching quizzically over your face as you search your own portrait.

“I think it looks splendid, darling.” Your father chimes in, probably just trying to put your critical mind at ease. “I think it’s my nose? And my hair, I think the shading of it is a bit too light, and my hair doesn’t part that way, it’s more centered than that. I also think he forgot the freckle on my-” “This is the third painting you’ve requested be redone! Let that poor artist be done with it already.” Your father interrupts, making his way over to the table in the brightly lit tea room of the palace, searching for the perfect lemon tart. The elegant tea room was lit brightly by the afternoon sun from the floor to ceiling windows with long white flowing curtains that nearly make up the entire back wall overlooking the rose garden below. A table is set with many tea cakes, scones, seasonal pitted fruit and finger sandwiches, all for your afternoon tea, which had been a lovely time until one of the footmen had brought up your newly redone royal portrait.

“It just has to be perfect. This is going to be the portrait that is to hang in the halls alongside our entire family line. Forgive me for wanting it to actually have my likeness.” You justify, crossing your arms agitatedly, eyes never leaving the portrait. “Shall I call for another painter? This one doesn’t seem to be the right fit-” “No!” You snap, your father looks confused as he stands frozen, dainty lemon tart in hand. You think quickly, worried your awkward response has given you away. “I mean, I like his art style, and I don’t want to audition another artist when we’re already so close to having a perfect portrait. I’ll just be sure to give him my notes for a better one, besides, I have a better dress to wear than this last one, not quite sure this one suits me.” You explain, eyes scanning the oil paints that make up your face. “If you insist. I’ll send for him tomorrow.” Your father relents with a shrug, you attempt to hide the smile behind your hand as you look over the brush strokes on the large canvas, admiring the smallest details.

In all honesty, the portrait was perfect, in every way. The curl of your smile, the tinge of blush in your cheeks, the color of your eyes, it was all perfect. It had been perfect all three times. But you couldn't stop thinking of the painter himself, Sam. You hadn’t stopped thinking of that man since you laid eyes on him, a man with beautiful long hair, deep brown eyes and a stare that lit you absolutely ablaze. The way he would look at you while he painted, adjusting your pose ever so gently, his words soft, patient and full of praise as he worked, the only problem was that your time together was so limited. Sure it was hours at a time, but once he finished your portrait he would be gone, sending it to the palace once all the background portions were complete and he would be gone, so, you found yourself criticizing the smallest details for the sake of his company. You had to admit, you were enamored with his presence, but surely, he must think you frustrating by now, this was to be your fourth portrait, and you would be more than happy to hang any of the previous three alongside the rest of the royal families portraits that lined the halls, but something about Sam made you feel something different, a feeling you couldn’t quite pin down. One thing you knew for certain, tomorrow was going to be your last session.

The anxiety to see the artist again has had your stomach in knots since tea time yesterday. Now here you are, desperately searching for the perfect gown for your portrait. You ask your ladies maids to find you your most elegant dresses, opting for a look that is regal and refined. After several displays of satin, silk and lace, you cannot help but be swept away by a deep crimson gown. Large sleeves that fall off your shoulders, lace that sweeps the edge of the fabric around the sleeves and your chest, tight in the waist and a grand skirt that is sure to impress. This is how you want to be remembered, both in your portrait and by the artist, utterly dripping in finery. Your hair is halfway swept up and pinned back to show off your bone structure and a fine diamond necklace graces your skin, along with dangling diamond earrings to complete the set.

A knock upon your bedchamber door brings you out of your daydreams, pulling you back into your anxious state of impatience, “The artist has arrived, your highness.” One of your many maids informs you upon her entrance. You give yourself one last glance into the mirror, “Let’s not keep him waiting then, shall we?” You respond with a smile.

The only sound besides your heels carrying you down the shining marble floors through the palace is the sound of your heartbeat slamming in your ears. You roll your eyes as you think, All this over a man? Now really. You scoff to yourself, taking in a deep breath as you make your way down the final hallway into the drawing room. Pausing just before entering to make any last adjustments to your hair and dress, you give your escorts a nod as they open the doors, “Her royal highness.” One of your personal guards announces your presence as you enter. Sam stands quickly from his stool by his easel.

The air is thick with a heavy pause as the two of you meet eyes from across the room. He looks even more beautiful than you remember, his hair is pulled back by the help of a dark blue ribbon loosely keeping his hair mostly out of his way, save for some strands that fall in front of his face just so. His deep brown eyes look wide and almost caught off guard, nervous perhaps? He’s dressed in a modest navy blue double vest that looks almost homemade and a high collared white shirt, his breeches tucked into boots that look like they’ve seen better days. Oh to be absolutely breath taken by a commoner of all things.

“Your majesty.” Sam speaks softly as he bows to you deeply, hand over his heart and all. You give him a deep curtsey to him in return with a gentle smile as the doors finally close, leaving the two of you alone. “I was surprised you had sent for me.” Sam says, “I am sorry to bother you once more-” “No, no your highness, I did not mean to offend, I am glad to see you again, it’s just that I was told there was something wrong with your portrait, that is what had taken me by surprise.” He explains quickly, hands wringing anxiously. “I hope I didn’t worry you too much, you’re a delightful painter, Sam. I just didn't care for the gown I had chosen to wear for my portrait. I wanted something more elegant, I suppose.” You reply with a smile, bringing the attention to the crimson fabric running under your fingertips as you smooth out the fabric. “It is quite a lovely dress…” Sam utters to himself as he takes in your silhouette, taking in your shape as he begins to plot out your portrait in his mind.

“Shall we get started then?” Sam asks with a smile, you only respond with a timid nod. “Wonderful. Let me place you over here then.” Sam says as he offers you his hand to escort you towards the large white cloth backdrop, you wince at the fact that he must have painstakingly set all of this up alone, for the third time. The room is well lit by the afternoon sun that is coming through the windows and bouncing off of the marble floors that almost work like a mirror the way it helps to light up the room. The high ceilings and quiet of the palace makes this moment feel even more intense. His hand is gentle as he brings you to stand in the center of the backdrop, he gives your jewel covered hand a soft squeeze as he lets go. “Now stand tall for me,” He instructs kindly as he sets a hand on the small of your back to adjust your posture, “Pardon my touch, madam.” He smiles gentlemanly as he’s always said before touching you. It's killing you not to think of his large and talented hands on you as he continues to pose you in such a particular way.

“Face your body more towards the wall to the left,” His hand shifts along your waist to aid in turning you, sure he did this dance last time, and the time before, but it’s just so sweet the way he moves you. Sam doesn’t meet your eyes as he works to situate you, too busy with the way your dress is laying just the right way and adjusting your frame. You watch his face intently, relishing in his touches and the way his face contorts in concentration, it's incredibly interesting to watch.

You nearly jump when his eyes catch yours as he fixes the hem of your dress, those beautiful golden brown eyes make you lose your breath. He gives you a soft smile as he notices your gaze, “Is this alright?” He asks as he takes a step away to take in the view of you as he’s posed you. “Perfect.” You smile as he gives you one last look of approval before walking to his easel. “Gorgeous.” He smiles, his voice soft, almost as though he��s unsure you are even allowed to hear it, you try to keep your expression neutral as he has requested but his compliment makes a grin grow upon your face. He begins to gather his paint palette and brush, his eyes flitting up to you every chance he can, as though he's afraid to spook you, like a deer in the forest, you might move or disappear. "Let's begin, shall we?" Sam says kindly as he begins to blend a few colors together.

You know you're not meant to be looking right at him but you can't help yourself, with the amount of time you spend standing completely still, your boredom, mostly your curiosity, gets the better of you. You cannot help yourself the way the faces of the artist's concentration makes you feel. The way his brows knit together, his lips purse, his teeth sink into his bottom lip, the way his eyes light up when it's all coming together on the canvas. You've watched him for so long over these past sessions, you wouldn't be surprised if you were able to paint him from memory.

His eyes meet yours and you can't help but smile, "You can speak if you like. Nothing worse than hours of silence, especially with someone as interesting as yourself." Sam says softly, his eyes hardly leaving the painting in progress. "Oh, I didn't want to distract you-" "I've painted you three times in a row now, your Highness, I think I could have painted your portrait with my eyes closed." He interrupts, looking up with a smirk. His candor takes you by surprise. His smile drops, he stands straight, stopping his brush strokes. "I-I’m sorry, that was incredibly rude of me-"

"Really, it's fine." You respond with a timid smile, "I don't mean to be so particular-" "No, madam of course you can be! It is to be your royal portrait, I shouldn't have said something so snarky, it wasn't my intention." He apologizes softly, a brief pause falls on the room.

"I like the way you speak your mind. People tip toe around me all the time. Makes me feel like no one feels comfortable enough to say what they think. Like I'm some porcelain doll in need of protecting." You explain, watching Sam as he gives you a genuine smile of relief. "I bet that gets very tiresome, madam." He says kindly, his paintbrush softly brushing over the canvas fills the silence. "Sometimes I feel like no one really sees me, I don't know if that makes sense. It's just, I feel as though they only see the title and the crown. They don't see-" "The woman underneath?" Sam finishes for you. You're struck for a moment at his words, the way he's perfectly figured it out, stolen the thought out of your own mind.

"Exactly." You say almost silently, he gives you a small smile as he continues to paint. He stops once more, "May I speak freely, madam?" Sam asks, more sure of himself than you would have imagined. "Of course." You answer, nervous of what he could mean. "As a commoner painter, I've had lots of experience with many highly refined people. I like to think that with the time I get to watch them for hours during sessions, I feel like I get to see them as they really are, more than any other outsider or even any of their peers would. An experience I'm most thankful for. But, with you, I get such an air of decency, more than just that, but, a genuine kindness. I feel that even if I weren’t here to paint your portrait you would still be kind and true, it seems just a part of your nature.” Sam’s words take you by surprise, no one has ever said anything like this to you in your life.

“You’re a joy to paint. I’m sorry it has taken me this many times to get your portrait right, but I never mind getting sent for if it means I get to see you again.” He finishes with a shy smile, a look that is making this whole secret plot of yours of having him come to paint your portrait just for your own pleasure makes his whole analysis of you seem like a farce. This confession makes you feel almost sickened with guilt, so much so that it's bubbling over inside you. You must tell him.

“Oh, Sam.” You sigh, your face dropping with shame. You drop your pose entirely and look at the artist, he looks worried at your sudden shift in mood, worried that he somehow must have upset you. “I’m afraid I haven’t been truthful with you.” You begin, Sam lets his brush and pallet relax at his sides, “How do you mean?” He asks anxiously. You search the ceiling as you try to form the words, heart racing in your chest as you look to find the right thing to say.

“There was never a problem with my portrait. The first or the second.” You start as you look to gauge his reaction, a flash of confusion coming over his features. You toy with the crimson material of your dress between your nervous fingers as you find the backbone to continue.

“The portrait was perfect, in every single way. In a way I’ve never been captured before in all of my life.”

“Then why ask me to come back?” He asks quietly, his brows knit in a look of befuddlement. You let out a pitiful laugh.

“Because I wanted to see you again.” You say defeatedly.

The silence of the room is almost painful as Sam’s eyes fall away from yours. You have to clench your jaw just to keep yourself from speaking anymore, worried you’ve already said too much. Sam lets out a little laugh as he sets his pallet down on the small table beside him, running his hand over his mouth, trying to suppress a smile that only makes you more concerned. He eyes one of the large windows, watching as the afternoon sun begins to set. “Why on earth would you want to see me again?” He asks you quizzically, you curse yourself at his question, why did he have to ask that?!

“I, uh, I enjoy your company.” You lie nervously, your fingers tightening their grip on your gown once more. “My company?” He asks with a smirk. “Yes. I enjoy talking to you.” You reply, digging a deeper and deeper hole for yourself.

Sam sets his brush down, “Why didn’t you just ask me for tea?” He asks, “If it's just my company you enjoy, I’m sure we could chat much more that way.” He pushes slyly. You can feel it, the not so obvious feeling that he sees completely through your excuses. “I-” You start, stopping as soon as you realize there is no decent way to say this confession of yours. Sam looks as though he’s leaning on the edge of his metaphorical seat as you search for the guts to speak.

“I like the way you look at me. The way you speak to me this way. To be alone with no guard over my shoulder and-”

“Yes?” Sam interrupts as he walks to the side of his eisel, fully visible in all of his painful beauty. The sound of agonizing silence is almost too much to bear, threatening to crush both of you, if you aren’t strangled by your own lungs that have seemed to have forgotten how to breathe.

“And, I like the way your hands feel when you touch me.” You respond so faintly you almost pray he didn’t hear you, but the way he lifts his eyebrows tells you he most certainly did. “Like you said, it feels good to be seen.” You repeat his own words back, hoping you didn’t just completely embarrass yourself. It feels almost like you are staring at the blade of a sword, waiting for it to either cut you in two or to spare you as you await Sam’s response.

He puts his hands behind his back as he walks towards you, slowly moving closer as his eyes scan you over.

“Oh your Highness…”

“I’m so sorry if I’ve upset you-”

“Don’t speak.” Sam softly commands, your heart is beating almost deftly in your ears you half wonder if he can hear it. “I’m glad you asked to see me once more.” He says kindly, you take a shallow breath to prepare yourself for the inevitable rejection. “Do you think of me often?” He asks with a subtle tilt of his head, a glimmer in his eye makes your knees weak. You search rapidly for the words to speak, not expecting him to ask you such a question. “Be honest, your Highness. No more secrets.” He grins, your mouth is dry with nervousness. “I do.” You answer, your voice shaking as he steps closer to you. “What do you think about, madam?” His tone is almost a taunt, but his tone is deeper than before, his question swirls in your ears and you blush as you begin to imagine all of the fantasies that have passed through your day dreams.

“More than just having my portrait painted.” You answer meekly as you look up at him through your lashes, he is so close now. Sam lifts his chin up as he understands your implications, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Mmm, is that right?” He rasps as he scans your reddened cheeks. “Well, you did ask for your portrait to be painted and we have so much time, we’ve hardly just begun.” Sam smirks with a darkened expression that makes you swallow hard. “May I reposition you, Your Grace? I think I have been inspired to go in a bit of a different direction.” He asks, a look of mischief in his eyes only spurs you on.

“Y-Yes.” You manage, he gives you a smile as he brings his hand to your chin. He lifts your chin to meet his eyes, “Good girl.” He whispers and you have to do everything in your power to keep from sighing at his words that just went straight to your core.

Sam withdraws his hand, opting to move to your waist, his large warm hands feel so good even through the heavy gown. His hands land on the front facing laces of the corset of your dress, his fingers finding the strings. “I do adore this dress on you, but I think I would much prefer to paint you without it.” He rasps, your lips part at his admission. You can’t find the words to say. Instead, you bring your own hands to hold his, the two of you watching intently as you assist him in pulling them undone.

You let the dress fall to the ground around you, leaving you in only your chemise dressing gown. The sound of the heavy material falling to the floor leaves the two of you in a beautifully thick silence, full of a tension that makes your whole body feel alive. The two of your eyes meet, Sam looks in awe of you, your silhouette nearly visible through the thin white fabric, your hardened nipples ghosting under the cotton, the light from the setting golden sun exposing you. “Perfect.” He whispers.

Taking a step away, Sam turns to bring over a wooden stool from his station, setting it beside you. “Take a seat.” He instructs. You sit down cautiously, unsure but delighted for what else he has in mind. Sam turns back to his place behind the easel, he gives you a pleased grin as he takes you in. “I need you to place your hands for me.” Sam says. “How would you like me, sir?” You respond with a coy smile. Your turn of phrase sparks something within the artist, the title upon your sweet voice makes Sam hot. “Place your hands on your chest.” He commands. You blush hot at his request, your hands slowly glide up your body and rest on your breasts. You lock eyes with him as you grope your breasts over the thin material.

Sam is nearly left breathless as you let your head roll to the side. You lean into his game you two have decided to play, letting him ogle you as you play with your breasts, allowing the artist to drink you in this way. You let out a breathy sigh when you tease over your nipples, the whole scene is full of a delectable tension between you and this angelic looking painter. His lips are parted in the most beautiful way, he shifts behind his canvas before speaking again. "Pull up your skirt, Princess." He commands you once more, you can't help but widen your eyes a tad at his words, you let one hand come down to your thigh and pinch the soft material of your under dress that lays against you, pulling it up, slowly, teasingly, until it's just above your knees.

You tilt your head to him, "Like this, sir?" You ask with a gentle rasp, your tone low, feigning an innocence you know is driving him insane. “Higher.” He simply answers. You can’t help the slight smile that comes to your lips as you bring the dress higher until it’s just barely above your french silk panties. You look to him, “Like this?” You ask, his gaze travels up your body and you feel your whole body buzzing with excitement. “Beautiful. Now, I want you to place one hand over your panties.” Sam instructs.

Timidly, you place your hand over your underwear, you let out a small sigh as you could already feel yourself growing wetter and wetter. “Just like that, darling.” Sam praises. You had to admit, you did feel beautiful this way, a feeling only Sam can seem to conjure within you. You look up at Sam, his eyes giving away a simple truth, he is barely holding on. His heart is slamming in his chest, as is yours, but the feeling of this moment is too good to rush.

Sam walks around his easel once more, your face is flushed as he comes back, this time it feels different, less formal than before. Without saying a word, Sam slides his fingertips up your arm, goosebumps raising over your skin as he does so, his hand comes to the strap of your dressing gown, he pulls it off your shoulder, letting it rest just so. His hands make you feel like your whole body is on fire. He moves his other hand to cup over your own that is holding your breast, you gasp lightly at the feeling as he squeezes gently making you hold your breast tighter in a way that feels so good you can’t help but exhale deeply in reaction to his presence. You watch intently, studying the beauty of the tops of his large hands, so tanned and covered in gorgeous veins that shift as he moves, the hands of an artist that encapsulates your smaller ones.

His other hand moves down your arm that rests between your legs, slowly moving until he’s got his hand over your own. Your eyes lock onto his beautiful brown eyes, you feel like you finally see them now, the way they look so golden and the rings of darkness inside of them, he’s so beautiful, more so than you first realized.

“Does this feel alright, Princess?” He asks softly as he adds a gentle pressure to your silk covered pussy with your own fingers. You sigh out in pleasure at the much needed friction, “Feels so good.” You whisper, he moves your hand up and down over your clothed center, his other hand gliding his thumb over your nipple. “Mmm.” You whine, “You look so beautiful like this.” Sam praises softly, you can’t help how his words affect you, you need more.

“But I think this,” he gently grabs your wrist, leading your hand down into your underwear, “Makes you look even more beautiful.” He smirks, leaning in closer to you, you moan out at the feeling of your fingertips gliding through your folds. “So wet.” You whisper, Sam brings his lips up to your ears. “Tell me, Princess, is this what you think of when you daydream of me?” He asks, his lips just grazing over the shell of your ear.

A pathetic moan rolls up past your lips at his words, you move your fingers in slow circles over your needy clit. “So much better.” You respond breathlessly. He lets his hand slide down past your fingers working over your clit, his middle finger teasing your entrance, “I have to agree with you Princess, I don’t think I could have dreamt of anything this perfect.” He whispers, his breath cascading gently over the skin of your neck as he kisses softly at your pulse point, his finger gently pressing inside you.

“Mmm, you’re so wet for me already.” He says, you can feel his smirk grow against your neck, proud to see just what hold he has over you. His teeth grazing gently over the sensitive skin in combination with his finger pumping inside of you makes your back arch with a moan, your chest pressing tightly against him. “Oh fuck.” You whimper, “You feel so tight, so warm.” Sam groans against your shoulder, his hand on your breast tightens as he starts to lose himself in the feeling of you. “Sam.” You moan as he adds another finger into your pussy, curling them up gently as he moves them inside of you. The feeling of your climax is hurtling towards you as your fingers increase the speed on your swollen clit. “S-Sam, ah, I-I’m-” Without letting you finish your thought, Sam interrupts you with a kiss, his hand moving from your breast and to your face, pulling you to him.

You can’t help the way you absolutely melt into his lips, so much softer than you could have imagined. You let your eyelids fall closed, you kiss him desperately as your orgasm slams into you, your moans are muffled against Sam’s plush lips. His fingers speed up as he coaxes you through your climax, your hips rocking against his hand as you cum all over his fingers.

Sam groans against your lips as your walls tighten around his fingers, the way your moans sound against him, the way your other hand is now clawing into his back, every inch of you is like holding lightning in his hands.

You pull away to catch your breath as your orgasm melts away, your eyes scan Sam’s eyes, his pupils blown in desire, lips reddened from the roughness of your kiss. His hand slips out of your panties, you can’t help but tremble, his hand moves to rest against your waist. You remove your hand as well, grabbing at his vest, the two of you looking at each other, with a look of silent desperation for more. The air is heavy with expectation. What comes next? Who moves first?

“I need you. All of you.” Sam breathes, voice laced in lust, his hand on your hip tightens, you smirk at his eagerness, “Then take me.” You say, pulling his vest, bringing him down into another kiss. He pulls you from the stool, close to him, bringing you to stand on wobbly knees, your fingers working at the buttons of his vest, working it off his chest. Sam begins to kiss down your neck, his hands sliding down your sides, his fingertips pulling up your gown, up and over your head, finally presenting your body to him.

The warm glow of the setting sun along the expanse of your bare skin takes Sam’s breath away, oh how he wishes he could paint you here, in this very moment. Bathed in golden sunlight, eyes ablaze with passion, face reddened by an orgasm just moments ago and lips gently swollen by kisses from her lover, their first kiss. First Kiss, that's what he would call it, he would be the most acclaimed artist in all of the country, praised for the art of such a goddess, no way could she be real.

“And to think, I was supposed to be painting you in all of those clothes.” He smiles gently, his words make your heart flutter.

He works at the buttons of his shirt, exposing the beautiful muscle beneath. His skin is perfectly tanned, his chest and abdomen are gently carved with muscle. The view of him this way makes your lips part and your cheeks blush as you shamefully let your eyes study him. You pull his shirt off of him slowly, letting the white cotton fall down his sculpted arms, his whole body is a masterpiece to behold, and you want nothing more than to feel him against you.

“How you are even real is beyond me.” You whisper as you run your fingers along his side, letting your hand rest on the top of his breeches, your fingers dipping inside, teasing at the skin of his hip underneath. “You’re so sweet, Princess.” Sam says as he pulls you close to him, his hands resting against the small of your back, so gentle and large against you. Your bare chest against his feels so warm and soft, it’s taking everything in your power not to just have all of him right here, right now. His hands run down to your ass, squeezing softly, “I bet you taste even sweeter.” You sigh at his provocative words, his voice raspy as he practically speaks against your lips. Sam’s hands pull your soaked panties down your legs, you kick them off and widen your stance for him as he kneels before you, his hands grabbing at the backs of your thighs as he begins to kiss at the soft skin beneath.

You can’t help but gasp at the gentle kisses he places on your skin, he begins to kiss up towards your core, his eyes lulled closed as he works to love on your skin. You put a leg over his shoulder, your hand gripping onto his head as he licks up your pussy, immediately sending a cry of pleasure from you.

His tongue feels so soft and so warm you can't help but tug at his hair, the ribbon that once loosely held his hair up cascades down, his long brown hair working perfectly to keep you from collapsing into a heap as your fingers take hold. You let your head fall back with a long, deep moan. You couldn't care less if the whole castle heard you, Sam deserves every single whine, whimper and cry you make.

His hand holds your thigh over his shoulder and the other against his chest, holding you close to him, wanting nothing more than to hold you close to him as he devours your achingly wet pussy. “F-Fuck Sam, ah, so good.” You say, hardly able to speak as he attaches his lips around your clit. You grip tightly to Sam’s hair and shoulder, trying your best not to let yourself fall as your one leg on the ground is shaking. Sam groans deliciously against you as your nails scrape over his scalp, sending a shockwave through you that has you moaning and gasping for breath. It's all so good, all too good.

You pull Sam roughly by his hair away from you, you look down at him, his long hair is wild from your hands running through it, his chin and gorgeously plump lips shine with your wetness, his expression one of confusion and desperation to please, “I want to feel you inside me.” You say longingly, he gives you such a perfect smile you can hardly contain yourself looking down at this man who is looking at you like you’ve hung the moon. “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted you to say those words.” Sam whispers, you blush as he guides you down to the floor that thankfully is covered by the backdrop that flows all the way down to the marble beneath you.

Undoing his boots and tugging desperately at his breeches, Sam works them down his legs, leaving him only in his undergarments. The feeling in the air shifts to something so passionate and loving, a stark contrast to the fervor between the two of you just moments ago. You sit on the soft cloth beneath you, the both of you sitting on your knees, looking at the other. “I find you absolutely breathtaking, you have enraptured me. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this way before.” Sam confides in a near whisper as he leans closer to you, his hand tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You take his hand, holding his palm to your cheek, leaning into his touch. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way either.” You reply, your heart soaring in your chest at the thought. You want more of him, to be all his. “Can I- um, can I touch you?” You ask quietly, your hand reaching out to touch his knee, both of you only inches away from each other.

“Please.” Sam whispers as he brings your hand to his hardened shaft that's behind his thin underwear. You let your hand timidly slip into his drawers, your hand gently taking his cock in your hand. Sam shudders out a sigh at your touch and you have to hold back the moan of the feeling of him in your hand, “Oh, Princess.” He whimpers, you slowly begin to pump him watching as Sam’s brows knit together in pleasure, his lips gently parted as he focuses on the feeling of your soft hand wrapped around him, stroking him inside of his underwear. He looks like an angel this way, on his knees and practically melting into your touch, his expression is one you will think of over and over again from this night on, so at ease and so full of pleasure from just your touch.

You lean in and kiss him sweetly, your hand still working him as he moans against your lips. “Want to feel you.” He whispers against your lips, you hum against him with a smile as you pull at his underwear. Sam pulls them off before sitting before you once more, his gorgeously erect cock resting against his toned stomach.

You straddle his lap, sitting against his length, his hardened shaft between your legs is so warm and feels like silk on your wet pussy. A sigh passes through the two of you at the feeling of the other this way. You rock your hips against him, Sam takes his cock in his hand letting the tip slip through your folds, you lower yourself slowly onto his dick, moaning as you can feel him stretching you out. You watch him as you descend unto him, his face even more beautiful, he’s oozing ecstasy. “So tight, ah fuck, Princess.” He groans as you completely take him inside, letting him fill you up to the hilt. You let out a small yelp, he’s so much bigger than you’ve ever experienced before, you let your eyes close for a moment as you adjust to his size. Sam’s hands resting on your hips squeeze you gently, bringing you back to those beautiful brown eyes.

“Princess? Are you alright? We can go slow-” Sam asks nervously, only for you to interrupt.

“No, it’s not that. Just feels so good and s-so big, ah.” You stutter out a whine as you begin to rock your hips, taking him in slowly as you begin to ride him. “Just wanna ride you.” You moan out, eyes lulled shut as you begin to move, his cock hitting your cervix in just the right way you can’t help but cry out in euphoria every time you rock against him. You let the speed of your motions increase as you continue to ride him. “Oh god, ah, Sam you- ah, mmm, fuuuuck.” You moan, his arms are wrapped around you, hands squeezing tightly as you roll your hips against him. “Feels so perfect, ah, you take me so well, angel.” Sam praises, he buries his face in your chest, your hand falls to the back of his head, bringing him to your breasts.

His lips latch against your nipple, gently sucking as you continue to rock against him. His moans stifle against your breast, the sound of his whimpers makes you nearly collapse just from the sound of him. A loud moan is pulled from within you, your thighs begin to shake, Sam detaches his lips from you, his arms tight around you as he smoothly rolls the two of you over, having you on your back with him over you.

“I want to watch you cum, Princess, cum so pretty for me.” He groans as he pulls you by your hips against him, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he hikes your legs over his hips. You can’t help but let out a sob as he slams deep inside of you, hitting a place within you you never thought existed. He smirks to himself as he begins a tortuous pace, fast and hard and it's more than anything you could ever need, you need it bad, fuck you need this for the rest of your life.

Your breasts bounce as he rails into you, “Oh fuck, Sam, so fucking deep oh god.” You whimper, the knot inside of your lower stomach feels like it's about to snap. “S-Sam, I’m so close, s-so close-” “So am I, angel.” He pants out, his long hair flowing with his thrusts, brows knit, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip and you can’t stop thinking how you saw almost that exact expression all through these three sessions as he was lost in concentration, and here you are, about to cum for the second time on the floor of your drawing room by this expertly talented artist, what a sight to behold.

A loud cry rips from your throat and you can’t stop the flow of nonsensical slurring of curses and Sam’s name until Sam brings his hand to your open mouth, the pad of his thumb resting against your tongue, his hand gripping your jaw as he fucks you relentlessly. You close your lips around it, humming against his thumb, unable to stay completely quiet. He releases his grip on your jaw and brings his thumb to your clit, your head rolls to the side, eyes squeezing shut as he begins to roll tight circles into your throbbing clit.

“Sam, I-I’m coming, fuck, I’m- ah, fuck me.” “Cum for me pretty girl, all over me, ah, I am too, ah, fuck.” Sam cries out as his thrusts become sloppy and more desperate, deeper and slower, it’s enough to make you cry out in pure, agonizing pleasure as he brings you both to climax. You grab hold of Sam, pulling him close to you, his hand tangled in your hair, your nails running down his back, the both of you filling the room with a cacophony of moans and groans and whimpers.

Your thighs shaking around his hips, as the two of you fall into each other, both panting, in search of breath, taking in the delicious feeling of him holding you in this way, far too innocent a thought for all what has just transpired between the two of you. He gently lifts himself from you, and you can’t stop yourself from pulling him back down to you, letting him lay back on top of you once more. “Don’t.” Is embarrassingly all you can think to say. “Please, just want you here.” You whisper against his ear, his breathing still jagged, he lets out a sigh of contentment, relaxing into you. His hands hold you tight, rolling you expertly to be on top of him. Sam’s hands gently caressing your back as he holds you, the both of you taking in the afterglow of one another.

“I would paint us like this if I could.” He sighs, eyes staring up at the ceiling of the darkening room, the sun setting on your time together.

You sit up with a shock, “The painting! We-”

“Like I said before, I could paint your portrait with my eyes closed, Princess.” He smiles at you, easing you back down to lay against him once more.

“Especially since there is no way I will ever be able to get you out of my head now.” His voice rasps sweetly as he locks eyes with you. You lean in for a kiss, gentle and soft.

“So… tea time soon?”

“I’ll bring your portrait, and it better be the one.”

“I know it will be.”

My beautiful tag list (thank you for your patience i love you)

@tripthelight-fanfic @emsgvf @ageofstardust @dakotadovato @screechesincoherently @gretavankleep37 @strangeh0rizons @capturethechaos @kiszkathecook @jakeslovehandles @depressingdarlin @gretavanfleas @maverick-rose @prophetofthedune @josiee-gvf @doodle417 @readthinkbeme @katie-gvf @lallisonl @toxbexannouncedx @kdarling1 @theweightofjake

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into-the-midst · 9 months

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You write Draco and Harry so well. I feel like your writing could fit right into the actual novels. I love 'Within the Hollow Crown' so much, it's so good. Thank you for sharing it with us. Do you plan out your stories in detail (because some plot points link really well together) or do you just write with the flow (because your writing is so smooth)? I'd love to know more about your writing process. What gives you blocks, how you overcome them. What's your average word count like?

Thanks again for the amazing fic. It's in my top tier list. I'm going to go binge all your other writings. Have a lovely day. 😉😉😉

Losing my mind over your lovely comments. :)

I always plan out my stories in full before I begin writing. I can't start without knowing for certain where I'm ending. My outlines are typically mini-scenes, including dialogue.

That said, the outline does become more of a guideline rather than a strict play-by-play. The Hollow Crown outline is pretty different from the finished product. The original outline included such wild things as: "He threatens Draco by making a small cut on his skin and licking away the blood. If Draco doesn’t start acting like a pureblood, Voldemort might change his mind about Draco’s usefulness. Only care about his blood. Licking his blood somehow gets a better response than the crucio" and "Snape is in his office, so Harry can’t get [the marauder's map] now, and on his way back to his dorm, he finds Thomas waiting on him. Thomas finally introduces himself, and Harry gets an odd feeling from him. Thomas says he knows Harry followed Draco around all first term, and that Draco just isn’t forcing him to back off. But Harry needs to. He makes a veiled threat and leaves." Neither of those ended up lining up with Voldemort's characterization. And also introduced a pretty major plot hole.

There are also additions, like Draco's instruction to obtain the prophecy. That was an absolutely last minute hail mary. It's only in there because I couldn't justify Draco not storming out of the library when Harry cornered him right after the winter break. I'm just glad that it blended so well with the rest of the story!

The only thing that never changes is the dialogue planned in the outline. I've known over a year that Voldemort would tell Lucius "he's no longer yours," and that Draco would ask Harry, "Destination or deliberation?" Dialogue is always my favorite piece of the writing process, and is the simplest part to plan.

For word count, I aim for an average of 5k words per chapter. The longest story I ever wrote was for a different fandom, and was 60+ chapters, 230k words. These days, I tend to aim for 100k for a multi-fic story. It's difficult to hold attention for any longer than that (I say, mostly directing the comment to myself).

Thank you again for the wonderful ask and reblog. I'm always so giddy when people enjoy my writing!

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dewaxar · 6 months

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Chapter 3

a/n: this is the last one I had pre prepared so it might be awhile before the next chapter

(Not proofread)

The trip was long and exhausting, Eliana found crying becoming one of her least favorite pastimes but a near constant one, she found no solace in the places they stayed in on the way there, filled with cold hearted old women who complained about Eliana’s tears.

The first thing eliana noticed about kingslanding but specifically the red keep was the air, the only way she could describe it was thicker, the air back home was quite fitting for the constant snow as it was undoubtedly cold but it felt clean as it filled her lungs. The air here was borderline suffocating, it wasn't even that hot yet the stone walls of the keep kept the stench of smoke. It overwhelmed her the moment she arrived, such a strong difference to her home in the north. The smell hurt her throat.

The second she had a moment to herself in what would presumably be her new chambers, she quickly asked the handmaiden that had not left her side since she arrived for some water. Maybe the maiden was there to make sure eliana didn't run, as if she'd have the guts to try and escape the red keep, the moat of spikes she saw when she arrived were enough to intimidate eliana into obedience. She chugged the water from the cup quickly when she was handed it, no longer caring how it might look to the poor woman watching her with slight distaste as some water rolled down her chin.

“Are my older brothers also being watched?” eliana asked, her tone wasn’t gentle as it had been the rest of the day. It seemed unfair that she could not have time to herself after her journey to kingslanding.

“No, my lady” the maiden spoke so politely eliana wanted to apologize for her tone towards the woman who was simply doing her job, but she didn't.

“And why not?” eliana continued to pester the woman with her questions.

“I am not sure, my lady” eliana sighed at this response as she flopped down on the bed of the room she had been escorted to, it was significantly softer than the ones back home, she felt almost as if she might fall through the bed. She glared at the ceiling as if she could express her anger to the gods for throwing her into this.

She was dressed in one of her mothers old dresses. It was white and flowed out before it reached her elbow. She was frightened for the day she would outgrow her mother's hand me downs. She was already so far separated from her mother in death and as the years dragged she felt further and further, simple fabric being almost all she had left of her late mother.

Eliana's gaze lingered on the unfamiliar ceiling, her mind wrestling with the harsh reality of her new life. The Red Keep, with its oppressive air and suffocating atmosphere, felt like a gilded cage. As she traced the delicate embroidery on her mother's old dress, the weight of the fabric seemed to mirror the burden she carried.

The handmaiden, ever attentive, spoke softly, "If there is anything you require, my lady, do not hesitate to ask."

Eliana nodded, acknowledging the gesture, but the ache in her chest persisted. The water had provided only a temporary relief, and she longed for the crisp air of her northern home. She couldn't fathom how she would endure the days to come, bound by duty to a marriage forged in the flames of political necessity.

With a resigned sigh, Eliana rose from the unfamiliar bed, the softness of it a stark contrast to the sturdy beds of Winterfell. As she moved towards the window, she caught a glimpse of the sprawling city below. Kingslanding, a city of intrigue and power, seemed to hold secrets within its stone walls, and Eliana felt like an unwilling pawn in a game she had not chosen to play.

The distant sounds of the city drifted through the window, a cacophony that further emphasized her isolation. She wondered about her brothers, free from the watchful eyes that now followed her every move. The unfairness of the situation fueled her frustration, and she couldn't shake the feeling that the Red Keep held more than just the scent of smoke and confinement.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the room, Eliana found herself lost in thoughts of a life left behind. The journey, the new surroundings, the weight of expectations—all of it pressed upon her shoulders like a heavy cloak. With a deep breath, she steeled herself for the challenges ahead, vowing to find her own strength within the intricacies of courtly life.

In the midst of the bustling preparations for the wedding, Eliana stole moments to seek solace in the company of her older brothers. Cregan, the eldest, and Theos, the younger, provided a rare comfort in the sea of unfamiliar faces. Their shared glances spoke volumes, silently acknowledging the weight of the impending union and the changes it would bring.

Cregan, always the stoic figure, offered a reassuring presence. In stolen moments within the Red Keep's labyrinthine corridors, he would give her a subtle nod, a silent encouragement to endure the challenges they faced. Eliana found solace in his unspoken support, a reminder that amidst the grandeur of courtly affairs, familial bonds endured.

Theos, on the other hand, displayed a more overt rebellion against the stifling atmosphere. In the rare moments they managed to steal away from prying eyes, he'd scoff at the elaborate customs and mock the courtly pretenses. Eliana couldn't help but smile at his irreverence, a flicker of rebellion that mirrored her own inner dissent.

As the day of the wedding approached, Eliana sought her brothers' company more frequently. In the hushed corners of the Red Keep, they would share whispered conversations, reminiscing about their home in the North and the adventures they once undertook together. Cregan's measured advice and Theos' candid humor became pillars of support in the face of the impending union.

During a particularly chaotic moment in the pre-wedding festivities, Eliana managed to steal a brief interlude with Cregan and Theos in a secluded garden. The air, though thick with the scent of impending change, seemed lighter in their shared company. Theos, ever the jester, attempted to lighten the mood with a joke, earning a rare smile from Eliana.

As the trio parted ways, each returning to their assigned roles in the grand spectacle, Eliana couldn't help but carry the warmth of those moments with her. The bond with her brothers, though tested by the unfolding events, remained an anchor in the storm of courtly obligations.

The morning of the wedding dawned with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. Eliana, confined within the lavish chambers of the Red Keep, felt the weight of the day bearing down on her. The gown chosen for her was a masterpiece of silk and lace, a vision of opulence that seemed to swallow her as it cascaded around her in ivory waves. As the servants worked diligently to fasten the intricate corset, Eliana couldn't help but feel as though she was drowning in the fabric that surrounded her.

Cregan, her steady and supportive brother, entered the room clad in formal attire. His eyes held a mixture of empathy and determination as he offered a supportive smile. Today, he would walk her down the aisle in place of their absent father, a role he embraced with quiet strength.

The scent of fragrant flowers wafted through the room as attendants adorned her hair with delicate decorations. Each pin and ornament added to the elaborate coiffure that framed her face, and though the result was undeniably beautiful, the process was not without discomfort. The intricate pins pricked at her scalp, a constant reminder of the meticulous preparations for a day that was feeling more and more like a death sentence by the second

As she stood before the mirror, the reflection that stared back seemed both regal and distant. The gown's weight pulled at her shoulders, and the elaborate decorations in her hair created a crown of beauty that masked the turmoil within. Cregan, sensing her unease, offered a reassuring touch on her shoulder.

"The people may see a princess today, but I see my sister, strong and resilient," he whispered.

Eliana managed a faint smile, grateful for Cregan's unwavering support. The corridors of the Red Keep buzzed with activity as the final preparations unfolded. The distant strains of music and the hum of excited voices signaled that the momentous occasion was drawing near.

As Cregan escorted her through the grand halls toward the ceremony, Eliana couldn't escape the feeling that this was a performance rather than a celebration of love. The heavy gown and the pins in her hair felt like chains, constraining her spirit.

Entering the ornate chamber where the ceremony would take place, Eliana took a deep breath. The sight of Prince Aemond waiting at the altar, and the sea of expectant faces, added to the gravity of the moment. With each step down the aisle, Cregan's presence served as a steadying force, a reminder that amidst the orchestrated splendor, a bond of familial love endured.

The weight of duty bore down on Eliana as she reached the altar, where Prince Aemond awaited her. The elaborate ceremony unfolded, and as the vows were exchanged, Eliana couldn't shake the feeling that her heart was a distant spectator to the grand spectacle. The pins in her hair continued to poke at her scalp, a subtle discomfort beneath the veneer of royal elegance. And as the celebrations commenced, Eliana found herself caught between the scripted expectations of courtly life and the yearning for a connection that eluded her on this orchestrated day of matrimony.

The wedding ceremony flowed seamlessly into a lavish celebration within the opulent halls of the Red Keep. As the evening unfolded, Eliana found herself amidst a whirlwind of courtiers and nobles, the sounds of music and laughter filling the air. Yet, amidst the splendor, a sense of isolation weighed heavily upon her.

Eliana watched as couples twirled across the ballroom floor in a graceful dance. The longing to join them, to share a moment of connection with her new husband, swelled within her. But Prince Aemond remained cold, his attention drifting elsewhere, leaving Eliana feeling like a mere ornament adorning his arm.

With a heavy heart, she extended a hand to her husband, hoping to share at least a fleeting moment on the dance floor. But Aemond's polite refusal and his distant demeanor left her standing alone in a sea of revelry, the weight of her isolation intensifying with each passing moment.

As if adding to her sense of discomfort, Prince Aemond's older brother, Aegon, appeared with a charm tainted by the headiness of wine. His jests and flirtatious remarks, though perhaps intended as light-hearted banter, only served to deepen Eliana's unease. She excused herself politely, seeking refuge in the shadows of the grand hall.

Eliana observed from afar as Aemond remained engrossed in conversations with dignitaries and courtiers, his family members included. The distance between them felt insurmountable, and the realization that their union was merely a political alliance cut deeper than she anticipated.

Her thoughts turned to her brothers, their departure looming like an impending storm. Cregan's steady presence and Theos' irreverent humor had provided her with moments of solace amidst the grandeur of courtly affairs. Knowing they would leave tonight, returning to the North, heightened Eliana's sense of desolation. She stole glances at them across the room, their expressions mirroring her own emotions—resigned to the reality of their impending separation.

As the festivities continued, Eliana found herself retreating further into the shadows, the weight of the day bearing down upon her. The music and laughter surrounding her felt distant, a stark contrast to the ache in her heart. And in that moment, amidst the grandeur of the celebration, Eliana longed for the familiar warmth of her brothers' presence, finding solace in the fleeting memories of shared laughter and unspoken understanding.

When she finally was able to return to her chambers that night every part of her body was aching, her feet from the stupid shoes that barely fit her to the weight of the dress's heavy fabric dragging down her shoulders and finally the hair decorations that had yet to stop poking her.

She couldn't help her eyes beginning to water as the handmaidens helped her undress, the only one that seemed to notice was the one who had been assisting her since she arrived who she had recently learnt was named Willow. Willow gently caressed Eliana's hair and shoulders as she helped lessen the strain on them.

When Eliana was young her mother used to spend most days playing with and braiding Eliana's hair, if she asked Willow to braid her hair, would she? It doesn't matter it wouldn't be her mother so it wouldn't bring her any comfort anyway.

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