#HAPPY BIRTHDAY LARI

[wheelsup30]

Birthday Plans (Aaron Hotchner x reader)

(Note: HAPPY UK BIRTHDAY @hotchfiles LOVE YOUUUUUUUU HERES A BDAY BLURB HEHE)

cw: no use of y/n, no specified gender but use of 'Honey'

word count: 340

“Honey…”

A voice soft as butter melts over your ears. Being woken up is never nice, but sometimes that voice made it feel a little better. You stretch and grumble a bit, hiding your face in the pillows as he chuckles quietly, his fingers stroking your hair.

“Come on, I know it's early, but we have to get going…” He coos, gently pulling the covers down and rubbing your back in a way that made you almost go right back to sleep. But then it occurs to you that you don't have plans today.

“What..?” It comes out less than coherently, but he gets the message, immediately reassuring you.

“We're only going 3 hours away, Bethany Beach. I made sure I finished the chores after you fell asleep last night, so we'll get there at nine am, leave by four or five after dinner.”

He gives you a moment to process, still rubbing your back slowly.

“Oh, and I got us a hotel room just in case it gets too busy on the beach. The weather is pretty good, so it'll be warm and bright enough to read for a while.”

You take a few minutes to go over it. Normally being given plans this abruptly was torture, and of course you were a little nervous, but Aaron really had planned this to a T. He'd thought of everything, and it was honestly pretty endearing. Eventually, you finally open your eyes, seeing a small cooler and a beach bag next to a pile of your favourite books and some bathing suits.

“Hey,” He whispers, running his thumb over your cheek, there was this look he gave you sometimes that felt like watching him fall in love in real time. It felt like a hot bath after a long day, sinking into comfort and completely enveloped by it, stress felt like a distant pressure he could wipe away in an instant with a single smile. Then his soft voice makes your heart sing once again-

“Happy birthday, Honey”

#leowrites #HAPPY BIRTHDAY LARI #LOVE YOUUUU #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x gn!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds x gn reader

[lightofwintersun]

TV-FAN OF HOTD: I can't wait for Rhaenyra to punish Larys Strong for harassing Alicent. OTHER TV-FAN: NO, Jace finds out that Larys killed his father and will take revenge!

Cregan Stark:

#house of the dragon #hotd #larys strong #alicent hightower #larys clubfoot #asoiaf #cregan stark #I'm in good mood #happy birthday to me

[themotherofhorses]

pairing: aemond targaryen x handmaid!reader

summary: “please,” aemond begs, keeping you flush against him as he nuzzles your breasts. “allow me to make love to you, sweet girl.”

(or aemond's first time with his handmaid).

warnings: explicit lang. a tiny bit of angst at the beginning. protective!aemond. p in v smut. slight breeding kink. spitting kink towards the end. fluff. all around good vibes bc aemond's in love and we all love that for him.

notes: happy birthday to me. pls be nice to me, i'm unfortunately entering my twenties today.

his handmaid's tales | main masterlist

Aemond spends the better part of the chilly winter day searching for his handmaid.

You had been missing when he returned to his bedchamber at midday, wishing to eat his lunch in your company. Did she forget my first rule, by chance? Aemond thought to himself, holding the chalice to his lips. Perhaps…but he could not stomach another bite of his roasted meat, his mind too consumed with thoughts of you.

So he looks throughout the kitchen wing, and the library and Great Hall, until he passes by his mother and sister in the hallway.

But neither woman claims to have seen you, and he’s left twice as confused and frustrated and concerned as he continues to wander about the Red Keep like some lovesick and anxious fool.

“Ah, my prince,” Lord Larys Strong purrs as his steps falls alongside Aemond’s. “Perchance I could be of service. I overheard you are looking for your little handmaid.”

Aemond turns to look at him. “Yes,” he answers, his eyebrow raising, “-have you seen her?”

The lord’s smile is sly. “Several hours ago, actually. She was heading up to the servant quarters…” but his smile then drops, quickly replaced with a frown, “but she seemed to be in tears, if I’m to remember correctly. Poor child, she was an awful, trembling mess, never once looking up to meet my eyes when I greeted her.”

“She was crying?” Aemond cocks his head sideways, swallowing down the ire beginning to bubble inside his chest.

“Yes. It was rather grievous and sad,” and Clubfoot shakes his head dolefully. “A maiden like her deserves a smile on her face at all times, would you not agree, my prince?”

Aemond’s jaw clenches, and he glances to the stairs leading upwards to the servant quarters. Someone made you cry? His blood turns cold, and his fist balls up at his side. Remembering where he was, he gives the lord a curt nod. “Thank you, Lord Strong,” and leaves it at that, rushing up the stairway and down the hall, whilst hundreds of questions thronged in his head.

Who dared make you cry? You, who is rightfully his- his handmaid, his woman. You were supposed to remain safe and happy within his room, tucked away from ill-tempered bastards and envious tongues. If he could not protect you…

He turns the corner, huffing. He’d see whoever made you cry is punished, Aemond decides as he walks down the strip, passing by shut door after door, until he hears fainting sobbing. A sniffle, then, and a tiny hiccup that soon follows. That stops him in his steps. You. You. You, you, you…

“Love,” he whispers, knocking his knuckles on the door before slowly cracking it open. “Love, it’s me.” You twist to meet him in sullen silence, and his heart shatters at the sight. Your pretty doe-eyes are both red and teary, and your bottom lip quivers. It’s busted too, more scarlet now than pink. But it is the ugly bruise coloring your left cheek- large and hand-shaped, that causes his eye to widen.

“Who?” he spat, crossing the room to gather you in his arms, his voice raising. “Who’s done this to you?”

But you lower your eyes, and bury your face within his neck, hiding away from his gaze and questions. Aemond softens, and his thumb gently strokes your cheek, pausing when you flinch. “My love, I need to know at once. This…this is a horrible injustice served upon you, one I know you did not deserve!”

You shake your head, face crumpling as another sob escapes you.

His eye narrows.

“Was it my brother?” Aemond demands. “Or a houseguard?”

“No,” you mumble, feeling ill, like your tummy is tied in a knot. “It was neither, my prince.”

“Well?”

You sigh. “It was one of the septas, a new one to the castle. I do not know her name,” you explain. “She caught me in your room and scolded me, saying how it was beyond disrespectful and ill-mannered of me to flaunter about your bedroom as if it was my own. She said…she said you would have my head for such, and when I tried to explain myself,” and you hiccup, feeling a wave of fresh tears, “-that I was your handmaid, she slapped me!”

“She said I would have your head? That I would kill you?”

You nod, wiping away the few fat tears streaking down your cheek, wincing at the slight sting from the bruised skin. “She said she would bring it up with the Queen herself, that there was no need for insolent little maids like me running around the castle. Oh, I’m so sorry, my prince. I’m terribly sorry. Please, please, please forgive me!”

But Aemond’s thumb brushes lightly across your plump lip, shushing you. “Those words should never fall from these lips, sweetling. They were not made for that.” You feel like crying again, this time from relief.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, my love. I couldn’t even imagine…” his voice trails off. How could this septa easily plant a seed of doubt within your mind, and make you think he would ever harm you? Or call for your death? As if you’re not the very air he breathes every day.

“You terrified me when I could not find you earlier, love.”

By now, you’re a lot calmer and breathing fine again, nestled within his embrace. Your cheek still stings but you’ll live. You lay your head against Aemond’s chest, listening to his faint heartbeat in his breast. Thump, thump, thump.

No more words are shared between the two of you, but his kiss on your temple says much more than anything could.

Soon, Aemond takes you back to his bedchamber, to his tub, and calls for several women to tend to you while he busies himself in burning the servant garb you were wearing today, until nothing is left but sooty ashes and singed cloths. He refuses to allow you to wear that shabby, tainted dress you were so wrongfully punished in. If not for you, then for himself. It eases his mind. And someday you’ll wear nothing but the finest and prettiest gowns, he swears, ones that are fit for no one but a princess.

He’ll have a talk with his mother too. His queen mother has a soft spot for his handmaid, he knows, and Helaena too. This will not go unseen and unpunished.

The prince returns when your bath is finished, and dismisses the women before carrying you off to his featherbed. You’re still quiet, hushed, lips pressed in a tight line while he dries your hair. “You do not need to do this, my prince,” you tell him softly, nervously lacing your fingers together. “I’m undeserving of such treatment, really. It should be I who does this for you.”

“Nonsense, sweetling.”

He’ll be your husband one day, and is merely practicing his husbandly duties, although he doesn’t actually say that piece aloud. It’s all a bit tricky right now, but he’s already decided he will not marry anyone who isn’t you.

Aemond bends to kiss your shoulder, ever so tenderly. You have four pretty birthmarks littering the skin, and he presses a sweet kiss atop all of them. He loves it. You’re so fucking gorgeous. “You’re mine,” he mumbles, nuzzling his forehead against your shoulder blade. “It’s my duty to care for you.”

“No, my prince, ‘tis my duty as your servant.”

He smiles up at you. “Ah, and I’m your protector, best to remember that, sweet girl.” And he leaves nothing more to be said, quickly standing you up in front of him, naked and breathing messily and too shy to meet his eye. Oh, but you’re too pretty for your own good, he tells himself. His fingertips gently trace along your hipbones while he leans to nuzzle his face into your tummy. Aemond then feels your soft hands finding his hair, fingers raking through as you sigh deeply.

“You smell good,” he whispers. “So damn good.”

You giggle. “Do I, my prince?”

Aemond hums, raising his face up to kiss your nipple- once, twice, thrice. He feels you suddenly tense against him, your breath catching in your throat. “Nice and warm and all mine,” he adds, blowing a puff of warm air over your breast that earns him a sweet little moan, one that sends blood rushing down to his cock. His arms circle around your waist, hands falling to knead your asscheeks.

“Let me make love to you.”

“My prince?” you ask, eyes widening as you recoil from your prince’s touch, your legs suddenly feeling weak like water.

Did you hear him right?

“Please,” Aemond begs, keeping you flush against him as he nuzzles your breasts. “Allow me to make love to you, sweet girl.” I see my future in your face. My children in your eyes. His hand cups your right breast, catching a hard nipple between two fingers. My sons at your breasts. His handmaid has come for him, to deliver to him everything he’s been so cruelly denied in this life. “Say yes,” he murmurs. “Let me finally claim you as mine own.” It is your blood I need, your blood on my sheets, and my seed in your belly, and your life and name as my own.

You close your eyes, yet still see your handsome prince grinning at you.

It’s wrong, you think. It’d be so wrong of us. I’d be banished.

I can’t.

I can’t.

I can’t.

“Okay, my prince,” you say, with a bated breath. “Make love to me.”  

An hour later, the wind has risen to a sharp howl against the stone walls, and fat raindrops ping against the windowpane. A winter storm, but there is little to no need to worry about such.

You’re quite nicely warm and dry, and safe within your prince’s arms as he nudges your thighs open. He’s already been down there, spending a good half of the last hour feasting on your wet cunt. It was like he’d been fasting for weeks; he took little mercy on you.

“Open wide,” he mutters. “Good girl. Keep ‘em like that for me.”

You whimper. Your Prince Aemond is gorgeous, with silver hair that shines like fresh snow and pale, naked skin that is covered in faint scarring, undoubtedly from boyhood. You’ve never seen someone so beautiful. His arms are thickened with lean, lithe muscle as he holds himself above your body, one hand laced firmly in yours.

And he looks down at you with bright, violet eyes, with a look perhaps only a man gives his new bride on her wedding night.

It makes you squirm beneath him.

He slides his cock in slowly, hissing at your tightness. “FUCK.” His head dips down near yours, lips barely grazing your ear as he lets out a low moan. “Gods be fucking good, you feel so fucking good…wrapped around my fucking cock, at last,” he says, voice raspy. “Right where you belong.”

Aemond feels that he won’t last long. He’s back to the days of his boyhood, during his thirteenth nameday when Aegon took him to the whorehouse, and he felt a woman’s touch for the first time.

Except now he has the woman he wants- soft and submissive and cunny wet and ready for him- and it is his turn to teach and guide her.

“Ah, my brave girl,” he tells you, pausing to kiss your forehead, then your swollen, pink lips. “It hurts, I know. It’ll feel better soon, I promise.”

And afterward, Aemond Targaryen’s watching as you shake and sob and fall to utter pieces, your beautiful face scrunched up in blissful pleasure as his thrusts soon quicken, and his hips snap into yours with such a harsh pace, it’s sure to leave dark bruises behind.

Your hands find his shoulders in a tight grip, in some desperate attempt to cling onto him whilst he fucks you good.

And, thankfully, it’s his name that tumbles out of your mouth, and not his stupid royal title. It follows your cries and moans and whimpers that echo throughout his bedchamber. To Aemond, it is poetic in some way. Several months back you were seated on his settee, singing, and now you’re buried within his sheets as he makes you a mother.

His loins ache for release, and he fondles your breast, toying with your nipple as he pounds you only harder. Aemond hopes to any god listening that the guards outside are listening in, and the serving girls too. He’s a prince of the realm- he means to claim all his rights. Let them all hear as he plows into his handmaid and stuffs her full of his sons.

Beneath him, you shudder and gasp- again and again- before arching your spine and flinging your arms around his neck. “AEMOND,” you scream, feeling a sudden tightness deep within your belly, almost like you’re only several seconds away from exploding into flames. Perhaps you are.

“Mercy on me, Aemond! Please!”

“Shhh,” Aemon coos, cradling your face as he fucks you through your orgasm. “I have you, pretty girl. You’re okay. Doesn’t this feel good? It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Ah, so- so good, Aemond…!”

He grins at your fucked-out face, and the little bit of drool pooling around the corner of your mouth, before lightly tapping his fingertip against your bottom lip. “Open up,” he commands, squeezing your cheeks together, when your mouth opens, he spits in it. “Now swallow- mmm, such a good girl, always doing what I say.”

Aemond chooses all his words carefully, loving the way his sweet little handmaid preens under all his given attention and praises, so prettily that he’s willing to discard all of his morals and seed her full of his future bastards. Silver-haired babes that would gurgle at him happily, and grow to carry on his name and legacy.   

For her, he thinks, leaning to kiss you again, feeling your cunt clamping down on him, she’s worth every damn thing and more.

tag list for "his handmaid's tales": @aemondsblog @dc-marvel-girl96 @neobanguniverse @missalycat21 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @padfooteyes @alexizodd @avidreader73 @the-common-cowgirl @inlovewithhisblueeyes @elegantsplendour @katzarantos @fan-goddess @okfashionista @randomdragonfires @aemvnd @mochimommy2002 @fangirlninja67

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond smut #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond fanfiction #handmaid!reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #vic writes 🧸

[jaytoons7]

I decided to create a double birthday gift for Smores and Lari! It's Crusher protecting their bois (And bringing out his werewolf form)

I hope you guys have a happy birthday! You're both really cool!

Brutus Dan Gerbreaker belongs to @smoresthehalloweenqueen Pollo Miller belongs to @00lari00

Crusher belongs to me

Bonus bloodier version under the cut:

#the henry stickmin collection #thsc #thsc oc #brutus dan gerbreaker #pollo miller #thsc crusher #my art

[emilykaldwen]

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Eight

Rating: Explicit Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

no tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3

Tumblr Masterpost

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven

AO3 Link

SPICY CHAPTER AHEAD (no seriously it's like 5k worth of smut in here)

CHAPTER EIGHT - SOMETHING IN YOUR TOUCH

Don’t tell me to leave, he silently begged. Let me adore you, let me touch you, let me taste and have you, let me know it’s alright. Aemond has a birthday, the girls gossip, and Aegon is a (sexy) creep. And we earn our explicit rating.

It was Aemond’s nameday and the royal gardens were more alive than they’d been in ages. Three of the terraces that spilled from the Queen’s ballroom were filled with courtiers, from young men and women newly arrived to King’s Landing, to the Queen’s ladies and children of the Small Council, to those who were slowly trickling in preceding Aegon’s nameday celebrations. Minstrels were playing beneath the shaded cover of the cloistered walkway, and there were tables laden with cakes and meats, even a marchpane facsimile of Vhagar that had surprised them all when the queen, beaming brighter than Abby had ever seen her, proudly revealed it.

“Happy nameday, my darling,” she’d told Aemond, slim hands on his upper arms, a fond kiss to his cheek. Even now, at seven and ten, he only blushed lightly at the affection of his mother rather than pull away with complaint. So rare was Queen Alicent’s softness that not even a crowd of peers could dissuade Aemond from pulling away for some sort of manly pride that he was too old for a kiss from his mother; he’d sprouted another few inches, now taller than Aegon, who was rather put out by it all.

In spite of the warmth from the midday sun, Abby could feel the promise of autumn on the breeze, a cool caress that tugged at the fire-kissed curls that hung loose down her back, held back by a pair of lapis and amethyst combs. Normally her hair would be worn pulled back in a knot at the crown of her head, but she was acutely aware of the mark below her right ear that she need not draw attention to.

She tilted her head back to feel the sun kiss her cheeks, ignoring the feeling of Aegon’s eyes on her back, of the shiver and prickle that came when one knew they were being watched.

The scent of lemon preceded the whisper of silk and Helaena’s amused voice against her ear. “You’re blushing,” the princess sing-songed, laughing softly as Abby huffed and lightly smacked her hand against her sister’s chest. It did little to deter her, and Helaena rested her chin on Abby’s bare shoulder, tugging a little at the skirt. “I like this dress. He does too.”

“I didn’t wear it for him.” The light silk organza was luxurious, shifting in colors from the softest pink and periwinkle into sage, baring her shoulders with the low neckline edged in embroidered blue flowers centered with pearls. It helped with the heat of the capital and she couldn’t deny that she felt lovely in it. “If he enjoys it, that is simply a bonus.” She bit her lip and chanced a glance over her shoulder.

Aegon stood beneath one of the cypress trees with a goblet held lazily in one ringed hand, his other arm braced against the trunk of the tree. His own eyes were on her, angling around Aemond who stood in his way, teeth pressed into his lower lip. The moment he realized she had caught him watching, he gave a slight start and Abby scrunched her face at him, teasing. His surprise eased into a satisfied smirk, the gold of his dragon stamped buttons on his black jerkin catching the light as did the rings on his fingers. She watched him tap two of them against the goblet he raised and after a shy moment, she gave him a smile and tapped her own fingers against her chin.

“Adorable,” Wylla teased from her other side, the roll of her eyes evident in her voice. Abby squeaked in surprise, the elder girl having seemingly appeared to seize the opportunity for teasing. Her cheeks flamed and she looked out towards the low hedge maze below on the next terrace.

“I didn’t wear it for him,” she emphasized, and it was Wylla’s turn to smirk as Helaena hummed her own disbelief. “You’re both ridiculous. Did you race across this whole garden just to say that to me?” Wylla raised her eyebrows in challenge. Abby squinted blue eyes at Helaena’s innocent look. “Are you both conspiring to tease me so?”

“Never,” Helaena said emphatically and Wylla was all innocence in her agreement.

“Of course I wouldn’t vault over a hedgerow at the opportunity to tease you. I’m conspiring to tease the foolish one.” She nodded her head in the direction of the brothers and Abby frowned.

“Foolish one? Which one?”

Wylla scoffed. “The one who cornered me in the hall a week ago asking - nay, demanding that I recount the tale of the Night’s King and the Corpse Queen so he could compare it to some moldy book he was brandishing like a madman.”

“Is he still going on about that?” Abby asked, catching Helaena’s own eye roll.

“I wish you’d warned me that he’s on some obsession about some kind of treatise on,” she pitched her voice lower, an attempt at modulating her voice to sound more like Aemond. “Northern Myths In Relation to the Founding of the Night’s Watch and King Beyond the Wall. Who does he think he is, taking my land and claiming to know more about it?”

“He thinks he’s Aemond Targaryen,” Helaena said dryly. “What more do you want?”

“An explanation on if the audacity comes with the dragon and that book to give him a good crack on his big head.”

Abby hummed. “The audacity absolutely comes with the dragon. Have you met Princess Helaena?”

The princess smiled serenely, her silver hair like spun gold beneath the sunlight and her lavender eyes shining with the kind of dreamy mystery they always held.

“Tis true.” Heleana sighed and pressed her hands against the low wall they were leaning against. “One does not need a cock to prove their might when they ride the oldest dragon. Sorry, second eldest dragon.” Even in her annoyance with her brother, there was amusement in her tone. “I can’t lord that over anyone anymore. Well, I suppose I can still lord it over Aegon, but then he comes back about Vhagar and then Aegon says that Sunfyre is the most beautiful dragon and Vhagar is a hoary old beast and then Aemond tells him to come say that to her face.”

The three of them fell into laughter then and Abby was grateful for the attention to be taken off of her dress and the way she was trying to hide the fact that she enjoyed Aegon gazing at her. It was good to have this. It was good to see Helaena freer than she’d been in some time. It was good to have Wylla by her side, a piece that Abby did not realize she’d been missing in her life. With the companionship that Wylla Karstark provided, it had struck her how isolated they’d been, this clutch of theirs. There'd once been a time when they’d played with more children than just their relatives. She recalled great games in the Kingswood carried out between all the children of the court, not just the Queen and Princess’ children, but those of the Small Council and others who littered the Red Keep and the capital.

That was before Princess Rhaenyra had left for Dragonstone. That was before that awful night on Driftmark.

“How do you like our new Baratheon friends?” Abby asked, hoping to keep the light mood up.

The princess hummed and folded her hands in front of her. “Floris is very sweet. I think would much rather run around like a little fawn than act so demurely.” The fondness in Helaena’s voice was undeniable as she spoke of the little girl. At present, Floris was running in circles around the fountain with one of Lord Beesbury’s granddaughters, her laughter a bright, bell-like sound.

It was not often that the other children of the court got to spend time amidst the royal family. Abby had suggested the opportunity, both for the Baratheons to be introduced to the court, as well as the opportunity for her and Helaena to start vetting ladies for their households, and to perhaps find companions for Aemond that didn’t involve whatever competition he’d decided there was between him and the Fossoway boy.

“Well, someone must have realized we were teasing him,” Wylla’s hushed voice broke in. Abby glanced up to see Aemond making his way over. In that moment Abby realized how grown he had begun to look, no longer the awkward and gangly boy he had been. Apart from his newfound height, the baby fat had started to melt from his cheeks, leaving behind a more stern look, one with the potential to be frighteningly intense. It appeared that others had noticed as well, eyes following his movement as he approached.

“Oh no,” Helaena groaned. “I swear, his hearing is ridiculous.”

“He’s come to tell us more about his Night’s King treatise,” Abby warned with another giggle, bumping her shoulder against Helaena’s who huffed softly. “Perhaps you can counter with a lesson on the molting practices of that type of lizard for Asshai. The one with the ruff around its neck and the spitting.”

“Your Grace!” Wylla’s voice called out as she gathered her dove gray skirts in hand to intercept Aemond. “I neglected to tell you about the Selkies of the Bay of Seals.”

She felt Helaena’s tension beside her ease slightly, her nails scraping against the sandstone wall and gaze drifting towards the glimmer of the bay and the seagulls that drifted through the air. There was a thrum in the girl beside her, the kind of vibration that Abby could feel in the air, as if Helaena’s very being sang with a tension like a tuning fork.

“Should you wish to find Dreamfyre, I shall set another distraction,” Abby murmured softly, letting her pinky finger touch Helaena’s pinky where their hands rested beside one another. Helaena returned the gesture with a shake of her head.

“I’m not some fragile thing,” she whispered, and the drifting quality to her voice made it unclear if Helaena spoke to her or to herself. “I will not give him the satisfaction, nor will I cause Mother concern.”

“You are not some fragile thing. You ride the second oldest dragon in the world.” Abby smiled and bumped her shoulder into Helaena’s and the princess huffed, returning the gesture. “He doesn’t get to demand something you do not wish -”

“Hush.” The hiss of the word had Abby snapping her mouth closed, head ducking down with instinctive apology. It was a tender subject, painful as a bruise for Helaena, and one that seemed to worsen with each passing of the moon. Helaena would not speak of it, but Abby was no fool to see that she did not hold the same desire that her brother did.

Sometimes, when she and Aemond sat together in the library, her feet resting on his boots while they made themselves at home in the comfortable nook below one of the stained glass windows, Abby thought she saw the same hesitance within him. She wished he’d speak his mind to her, as he had on many subjects, just as Helaena would speak hers. But this? This was a subject that neither of them had any desire to speak of and she could not figure out if they felt too beholden to the performance, or if there was something else she didn’t understand.

Floris Baratheon’s loud shrieks of laughter drew Abby’s gaze up from their hands to smile softly down at the way the girl found such joy in her new playmates.

“If you tell your mother that you do not wish for it, she will not force you, just as she did not force you and Aegon to wed. We both know if she had her heart set on you and Aegon marrying, she wouldn’t have broken the betrothal so quickly when Aemond was making his claims.” Even though she had not betrothed Aemond and Helaena, as Aemond had so fervently demanded. It had not escaped her that the queen and Lord Hand had grown increasingly anxious once Princess Rhaenyra had given birth to her fourth son, Prince Daemon’s son, and the past four years had been increasingly stressful with not knowing what would happen next. Aegon was nearing twenty, he should have been married already, if not to Helaena, then to another daughter of a great house. Helaena could have been sent away to secure someplace like the North and Cregan Stark, who had just taken his place as Warden.

Yet here they were, her and Aegon, hand in hand, counting the weeks until their wedding, and no news yet of Helaena’s potential betrothals and only a few lords out there of an age with her worthy of the hand of a princess of the realm. It was not uncommon for maids to marry young. Queen Alicent herself had been five and ten when she’d wedded the king, the man old enough to be her father. Abby’s own stomach curdled at the idea of Larys marrying her to an old lord looking for his third wife in a young and untouched maiden.

“Rivers drenched in flame,” Helaena murmured, fingernails biting into the back of Abby’s hand and the touch of pain pulled a gasp from her. “Sorry.” Helaena snatched her own hand back quickly and blinked. “I told grandfather that I’d die if he married me to Aegon. Aemond shouldn’t get all the credit for it.”

Abby was silent, watching Helaena from the corner of her eye as the princess scraped her fingertips along the sandstone. Her mind, however, whirled with the revelation that Helaena had never even hinted at before, and Abby briefly glanced over her shoulder to the gathered party.

Aemond had become suitably distracted, peppering Wylla with questions about selkies, and further beyond, there was Warren Fossoway gathered with some of the other young men around Aegon, whose lilac eyes had focused on the telling of something or another that had the boys falling into raucous laughter. Ladies mingled, from younger than her and Helaena to the women who served the queen and wives who had accompanied their husbands to the capital. Queen Alicent herself was below, on the lower terrace where Floris and Lord Beesbury’s granddaughter were playing about the fountain still, their laughter like delighted garden sprites. Then her eyes were drawn to the group near the arched entrance to the godswood.

The Lady Cassandra, eldest of the Four Storms, as the Baratheon daughters had come to be known, was to put it simply, beautiful. She was only a scant few months older than Helaena, older than expected for the eldest daughter of a Lord Paramount to remain unbetrothed, let alone unwed. Abby recalled the sour look on Lady Myrielle Penrose’s face at the news of the Baratheon arrival - Cassandra had been set to marry her brother before Bennard Penrose was caught with Lord Hayford’s daughter at a tournament in the Stormlands. Now, here the heir of Storm’s End stood, with her hair as black as raven wings, a storm of twisted curls and waves half pulled up in a thickly braided net of gold and pearl. Her features were sharp, giving her a cold sort of beauty that was both ensnaring and intimidating, as if she were Argella Durrandon reborn. She appeared older and more worldly than Abby had expected with her gown of gold satin, the bodice embroidered with black lace and appliques that evoked antlers and gave the illusion of armor.

“Do you think she can push her breasts up any higher out of that gown?” Helaena asked. Abby choked on her swallow of cider, only just managing to cough it back up into her goblet before she sputtered everywhere. She did her best to ignore the eyes on her while dabbing at her mouth with her handkerchief, and resolutely ignored the way Aegon was watching her again. His eyes burned into her, stoking something aching low in her gut.

“I think you should worry less about her bosom and how she shows it off, and more about looking for others who might work as ladies for you.” Abby coughed once more into her handkerchief and cleared her throat. Helaena clucked her tongue.

“Is that because you’re jealous of her ample bosom?” Helaena teased, and Abby prickled with indignation, huffing and running her fingers over the ivy design along the goblet in her hand.

“No, I’m not jealous of her ample bosom. I do not want you to be lonely when I’m gone, Helaena,” Abby defended herself, only half a lie, but there was still truth in the statement. She wanted to reach for Helaena’s hand, but just because Helaena had been physically affectionate did not mean she welcomed it from the outside. “We will make sure your ladies will care for you properly, but you have to give them a chance.”

“You don’t have to baby me, you know,” the princess said, her large lavender eyes narrowed in a vague sense of annoyance. “I’m not helpless.”

A soft exhale. “I don’t think you are, and I wouldn’t leave you if I didn’t have to… and I simply want to make sure that-.” That what? Abby could not lie to herself that she liked to be needed, that she needed to be needed, and she loved Helaena. She was protective of Helaena, and the idea of her being surrounded by people that didn’t understand her, that didn’t know what days she needed loose fitting dresses and quiet, or to wake up in the middle of the night, whispering and giggling with each other when dreams became too much for them both.

“Abby,” Helaena interrupted. “You’re starting to sound like Mother.”

She flushed. Alicent Hightower was a gracious and clement queen. She cared for the small folk, she kept the kingdom running as the king fell deeper into his illness. She took responsibility for her after the death of her father when she didn’t have to. Alicent was the closest thing she had to a mother anymore. But she was not kind. She was not soft, nor gentle. She fretted and raged, and fear had begun turning her into a taloned woman liable to strike rather than comfort some days. “I take great pride in being your lady. I would prefer to be assured that things continue as normal, or even better.” Helaena made a little huffing sound before softly laughing and Abby shook her head. “The Seven forbid you end up with a host of Lady Penroses.”

“You are right,” Helaena agreed, twisting her fingers together and plucking at the soft sapphire silk of her sleeves. The neckline of the simple gown was heart shaped, the appliques on the bodice mimicking flame. An appropriate call of the Hightower and blood of the dragon that made up the princess. “I do not like change. I do not want to have to get used to it all.”

Abby tentatively rested her hand on the taller girl’s shoulder, her fingertips only just touching the edge of Helaena’s sleeve. “You are an afternoon’s ride away, whenever you desire to escape the confines of your tower. I imagine there are quite a few fascinating specimens at Harrenhal for you to collect.”

Helaena made a thoughtful face, nodding. “This is true. And I can’t imagine anyone would beg to come along for such an adventure. Their loss, always.”

“Floris might.” Now the pair of girls were balancing on the edge of the fountain, carefully reaching their hands out to put beneath the spray of water. “Unless, of course, you suddenly decide that you would rather Lady Cassandra stay.”

It had been two days since the arrival of the Baratheon girls, and while Helaena and Abby both had grown fond of little Floris, Cassandra was a whole other story entirely. The pair turned their gazes towards the other end of the terrace where Cassandra still remained. Helaena shook her head and looped her arm through Abby’s, tugging her along.

“Come, let us go speak with the heavy breasted storm so you can decide if you’re taking her with you, or if we'll send her back to Storm’s End before she suffocates us all.”

Cassandra continued to hold court across the garden and Abby’s eyes darted around for Wylla, for a moment feeling the ache of insecurity at not having the elder girl around. She was still with Aemond, brow furrowed and the pair of them gesturing wildly at whatever disagreement about the selkies had developed into. Abby stifled a laugh.

“Aemond might end up tossed over the wall should he keep that up,” she murmured to Helaena.

“Good, perhaps that would knock some sense into him.” Abby glanced from Aemond’s arrow-straight form to Helaena curiously. Helaena’s silver hair shone gold beneath the sunlight, and her large eyes drifted to remain fixed on the group of women they approached.

“Your Grace,” came Lady Cassandra’s husky voice, unexpected in its roughness and yet perfect for the image she presented. It gave her an enviable air of mystery, of womanly secret that Abby was acutely aware she lacked. The others around her quickly followed suit with demure murmurs and all dropped into smooth, elegant curtsies. It was a picture of perfection in the gentle swish of fabric. Cassandra’s large dark eyes moved over to her, a dark brow arching in curiosity. “I apologize, but I don’t believe we’ve yet met.”

A slight shake of her head, Abby inclined her head in greeting, unsure if she needed to curtsy to the daughter of a lord paramount now. “We haven’t, although I did have the pleasure of meeting your sweet sister, Floris. I am Lady Abrogail, of Harrenhal. Companion to her Grace, the Princess. I am most pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Cassandra, and I hope for us to become friends.”

Cassandra’s smile was wide and broad, all straight, pearly teeth and sharp cuspids. “I’m sure we will, Lady Abrogail. Harrenhal, you say?” A soft chuckle and a curious cock of her head. “That great, haunted place.”

Ugly place was implied beneath the husky tone. It was one that she had heard enough over the years to recognize immediately and though it continued to sting, she would not let it shake her. “Yes, my elder brother is the current Lord, and I’m quite looking forward to seeing my family upon our return there. The lands are beautiful, and the cherry and plum orchards are renowned for their autumn meads.” She laughed, her eyes drifting across the rest of the young women in the group. “Lady Elinor, is it?” she asked the slight woman to Cassandra’s right, hovering and small. Her mouse brown hair looked as soft as fur, curled delicately around her narrow face. Abby smiled. “I hear that Bronzegate also has some of the best strawberries outside of the Reach. I’ve always wanted to attend one of your harvest festivals. I adore strawberries.”

Lady Elinor’s shy look relaxed and she returned her smile with a beaming one of her own, stepping forward into the circle of ladies. Abby kept her eyes affixed upon her, although she noticed the sharp glint in Lady’s Cassandra’s deep gaze. “Aye, my Lady. If you enjoy strawberries, you should try our strawberry wines. They’re not as heavy as the barrels from the Arbor, if I do say so myself.” The pride in Lady Elinor’s voice eased Abby’s nerves and she relaxed. She would not let the beautiful woman intimidate her, especially if Lady Cassandra was going to be the one to accompany her to Harrenhal.

“We will have to send for some, then, for the Prince’s nameday,” she said, glancing briefly over her shoulder in Aegon’s direction and the bickering between Aemond and poor Wylla who was in fact, looking to hold her own. Let this woman see that while she was perhaps the eye of the storm in her own home, she would not let her push her around, nor any of her ladies, and sweet Floris. All bouncing breasts, and hateful thoughts. What an ugly combination. She would have to tell Helaena later.

“I hear the Prince’s nameday feast will be one for the books,” Lady Cassandra cut in, tossing her curls over her shoulder. “Hunt and a tournament? And the feasts should be grand. I do love a good feast. Do you enjoy dancing, your Grace?”

Helaena did not meet Cassandra’s pointed look, but she rarely met anyone’s eyes head on. “No.”

Abby dug her thumbnail into her palm to keep from laughing. The pair of the Queen’s ladies exchanged glances, for the truth was quite the opposite.

“Well, I’m sure there will still be fun and revelry for all,” Cassandra’s smile was stuck in place and she cleared her throat somewhat. It was clear that she would not do to become a companion to Helaena, and Abby brushed her arm against her dear sister’s. “You know, I heard a rumor that the king plans to declare Prince Aegon his heir, that’s why it’s such a celebration.”

There were soft gasps amongst the ladies. “Oh, do you think so?” Lady Elinor whispered, a hand pressed to her cheek. Cassandra tutted, waving over a servant to refill her goblet with arbor gold.

“He’s unmarried, and the celebration is larger than any thrown since Princess Rhaenyra’s wedding. Isn’t that right, Your Grace?” The lady’s dark eyes shot over to Helaena with wide eyed eagerness and a coy smile slashed across her lovely face. Abby felt a prickle of heat along her throat.

Helaena tilted her head, gazing idly over the rest of the party. “I suppose. Mother finds frivolous celebration unseemly when the treasury could be used to rebuild the poor houses that had fallen into disuse.”

“And with the king’s ill health, it doesn’t seem appropriate to throw such festivities,” Abby added encouragingly, her shoulder brushing against Helaena’s.

“The king’s ill health?” Lady Cassandra said, as if she didn’t know after spending a week in the Red Keep that the king was rarely seen. “Well, all the more reason then to finally declare Prince Aegon heir.” Her gaze drifted before she laughed. “But do not look now, my friends, for the Prince in question has not stopped looking this way.”

Something unpleasant churned in Abby’s stomach and she felt a flush heat along the back of her neck and ears. The Queen’s ladies exchanged another glance before drifting their gazes to Abby, and she was not sure if they meant them as pity or uncertainty as to what they should say. It was obvious what Cassandra had meant - that Aegon was staring at her, of course.

“Pay him no mind,” Abby said airly, goblet tight in her delicate hand. “We don’t. It’s best to not encourage him.” Cassandra laughed louder, and Abby saw the demonstration for what it was. The tilt of her head showing off the fine line of her neck, and the jewels that decorated her. That ridiculous bosom with all the secrets inside making them shake with her laughter.

Was Aegon staring at Cassandra now? She was beautiful, and so polished, even with her callous nature hidden beneath the lady’s mask. Aegon didn’t care about personality, that much Abby knew. He liked pretty things. Pretty mouths and smiles and attention. One didn’t need a personality when they were-

“I’m sorry, I don’t seem to understand what’s so funny. Did I miss the joke?” Helaena’s voice interrupted the path of Abby’s swirling thoughts and the princess said it with such a straight face that Abby knew that it was true. Crowds could be difficult for her some days, and the backhanded nature of ladies always put her on edge, with doublespeak being at least thrice as difficult to maneuver as simple polite evasion and conversation.

Was Aegon staring at the raven haired beauty or was he still looking at her? She wanted to turn her head to look, but wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of her doubt or jealousy. Not that Abby was jealous. She wasn’t. This was simply the insecurity of her new dress, and what her station was now, and where she stood and… and…

Abby brushed her hair away from her neck, where her curls had covered the little bruise that Aegon’s mouth left, her fingers trailing over the spot. Cassandra’s eyes caught the motion, and Abby gave a slight smile. “It will be refreshing to have someone so joyful with us at court. The days can get quite boring and monotonous.”

Cassandra hummed. “Truly? You seem like the kind of lady that has no problem occupying her time.” Her hand dropped awkwardly from her neck and Abby felt the heat creep along her throat and up her cheeks. The other girl smiled, the flash of those sharp cuspids again. “You know the sort.”

The servants' passage, one Aegon had taken to perusing on nights when sleep eluded him, snaked through nearly every inch of the castle. He had his half filled goblet in hand, the warmth of the plum cider that Abby favored coursing through his veins. His dagger was in his boot, his shirt loose and light along his skin and breeches half unlaced.

His footsteps were quiet, the murmurs from the rooms behind a soft lull. He stopped at the crosspath to pet Theraxis, the cat stalking for prey in these night hours before returning to his mistress’ room.

“You stay out. Don’t want to be interrupted,” he told him softly. The great furry thing rubbed against his calf before vanishing into the darkness, as if it took his words to heart.

It was the whimper Aegon heard first and it wrenched an agonized sigh from him as he came upon his intended goal. He leaned forward against the wall, eyes to the little peep holes that Maegor had commissioned throughout the Red Keep, and he threw back the remains of his drink before setting it on the little ledge where the one from the day before sat.

Abby was alone in her room, tucked there in her bed, safe and sound. The fire was a low glow, and it turned her creamy skin warm and golden. Her hair was like dragonfire, bloody red and gold against her white sheets. The back of her hand was pressed against her mouth and her knees were drawn up. The softness of her nightgown was bunched along the tops of her thighs - sweet things, spread as they were.

Another moan escaped her, and he bit his lip as he palmed his quickly hardening cock. Aegon had dreamt of her before. He’d pictured her heart shaped mouth rounded out in cries of pleasure, the sound of his name tumbling out of her with her frantic gasping, twisting memory to suit his fantasies of his Maiden. In spite of what he lamented over wine and whores to his brothers, about his fears to touch her, his fears to corrupt her, his self-control was slipping with each smile and each flirtation she sent his way.

He had no way to see the sweetness between those thighs, not from this angle. The ugly thought of someone spying on her tore at his gut, and it was the only reason he was relieved that he could not see. But fuck him, he could hear the wet slick. Maybe it was his imagination; it probably was, but it didn’t matter as he watched her dainty little hand palm down the curve of her belly and vanish between her spread legs.

His cock bobbed painfully as he fisted it, precum dripping over his knuckles while he stroked.

What are you wishing I’d do to you? He wondered with the confidence that came from knowing it was his touch she surely must be fantasizing about. He never missed her casual affection, and the teasing she’d done, stepping right to him in the market fair the previous day. It was him that she desired. And that was after all the adorable kisses she initiated; the first time she’d dragged him behind the tapestry outside of his mother’s room and tried to suppress the giggles that bubbled out of her, the way she cupped his face and pressed the sweetest, clumsiest, most eager of kisses across his face and his mouth.

Yet, she’d thought him disinterested. Even in his lamentations that she deserved better, someone wholly not him, the very thought that she could be taken from him was not something he could bear. Not something he could stand. But, gods, her squared shoulders and her firm speech about how she wouldn’t put up with his attitude, the way her blue eyes brightened like the afternoon sky, had gotten his blood running. So rare was it that Abrogail Strong was ever so firm and he desired to see more of it, desperate to draw it out of her.

Would she be that way writhing beneath him, demanding to ride him the way they rode Sunfyre? Or would she be desperate and wanting, begging and mewling as he pressed those damnable, adorable grasping hands into the sheets while she squirmed.

It was obscene, this tableau, soft, safe and innocent in her bed. It should be the most sacred and tender of images. Yet the sight before him, her thighs spread and trembling, her head tossing restlessly against the pillow, was just as sacred, just as tender, as her usual air of innocence. Abby’s hips rolled up against her stuttering touch. Aegon squeezed the base of his cock, trying to hold off his peak so he could enjoy this as long as possible. He wanted to see her face. He wanted to see if her brow furrowed how it did when she was reading. He wanted to see if her mouth rounded in surprise as it did when they flew together.

As if his precious Maiden had heard him, she turned towards him… and then kept turning until she was on her knees, pert ass in the air and her face pressed into her pillow.

Seven hells, he was going to explode. He watched Abby shove her nightgown into her mouth to muffle those desperate sounds that were growing louder. The nightgown had fallen down from the angle, the round of her ass shoved into the air, rocking desperately against her hand. The firelight caught at the tears on her soft cheeks and he licked his lips, swearing he could taste the salt of them. He couldn’t see the delectable apple shapes of her breasts, the only thing left hidden by the bunched up fabric caught around her arms.

“Fuck,” he muttered, louder than he would have liked, but it didn’t appear that she’d heard. She continued to whimper and grind against her hand. As his seed slipped slick over his hand, dripping to the stone floor - and there was a strange feeling of waste at the way it splattered across the stones - he realized that she wasn’t able to come from her own inexperienced touch.

Oh, his poor little rabbit.

He watched her writhe in the low firelight, fitful and sobbing in her bed as she stroked frantically at herself. Aegon’s eyes slid to the left, where the crack of the passage door was just visible.

He really shouldn’t.

He really, really shouldn’t.

He tucked himself back into his breeches and ran his hand along the crack before he located the latch. The stone moved easily, silently, and the sounds within the room suddenly cleared as he stood in the doorway, watching her barely half a room away. From this vantage, he could see the shadow between her pretty thighs, and even if he just came, his cock was twitching once more.

Aegon was relieved that his footsteps made no sound as he approached the bed, and it took every ounce of his willpower not to groan when he saw the slickness of her cunt and the shimmer of arousal running down her thighs. His mouth was watering, and he could feel himself drool at the decadence laid out there, belonging to him. Aegon finally got his legs to move, the firelight catching the cum that still streaked along the back of his hand, but he didn’t care. The bed dipped as he set a knee on the edge and he watched her large eyes shoot open, the nightgown slipping from her mouth.

“Aeg?” she choked out while he ran his fingers soothingly from the base of her spine. He felt her shudder and wriggle in her surprise, and it truly hadn’t occurred to Aegon that this might have gone far worse, that she might have shouted and screamed at the intrusion, that the guards might have found him here, or worse, his mother. He was too focused on the heat of her body against his with only his linen shirt separating them. Aegon marveled at the little freckles and moles that dotted along her back like droplets of ink against her flushed skin. On his knees beside her, Aegon draped himself over her so his arms bracketed her trembling body on the cusp of her peak.

“Shhhh, I’ve got you,” he promised. Aegon dipped his head down and was able to kiss the corner of her trembling mouth and moved to trace his lips and tongue over her cheek to capture at the salty lines of her frustrated tears. His right hand stroked along her arm and he groaned low against her soft skin when he felt the slippery wetness along the back of her wrist. “I’ve got you.”

Abby gasped and trembled and whatever protest she might have had gave way to a low whine at the feel of his touch. Aegon soothed her, kissing her cheek, the corner of her eye, nuzzling his nose into the softness of her hair. The scent of her bergamot oil clung to the damp curls at her temples and twisted a needy sort of pull low in his gut. He was desperate to dive his fingers the last few inches to join hers into the soaked treasure of her cunt, but instead he continued to stroke his fingers up and down her arm. The awareness that her breasts were free and ripe and waiting for him pulled a low groan that he unsuccessfully tried to muffle into her curls. “Come here, hunītsos,” he crooned, and pressed his palm against her quivering belly to hold her against him. Slowly, Aegon rolled them to the left, so he was on his side, her head resting on his arm and cradled in the curve of his body.

Aegon took the moment to meet her gaze fully and admire the way she looked in the firelight. Her eyes were wide and the ocean blue of them was a vivid rim around the black pupil that reflected the light. Her dark lashes fluttered and her mouth was swollen red and bitten near bloody from how she’d tried to keep her sounds in. He could see the scarlet smudged on the bit of her nightgown that she’d shoved into her mouth. Cradled as she was against him, Aegon drew the arm that supported her head around to slip beneath the edge of her rucked up nightgown and graze his fingers along the soft warmth of her breast, just there on the underside, and a slow smirk cut across his face at the way she jerked against him. Aegon glanced down and saw her pretty little toes curl into the bed.

“Good girl, ñuha hunītsos. Whatever is the matter?” He asked, his voice low, crooning softly to her like the skittish little rabbit he had named her. Abby whined and her feet pressed against his shins, tangling their legs, and the smile across his face grew. “Use your words,” he murmured against her temple. “Tell me what it is that has you so distraught?” His voice was low and soft, slow and soothing, and he relished in the way his words made her squirm against him. He felt a stirring in himself and instinctively his hips pressed against the bare curve of her ass, his palm hot and fingers spread across her soft belly. Aegon pressed her closer and his own eyes went half lidded as Abby’s fluttered.

“Please,” she whispered in a breathless tremble. Her pink tongue darted out to lick along her bitten mouth and he leaned down to brush his own against hers. He couldn’t help himself. There was no hesitation to slide his tongue along hers the moment their mouths met. The way her own was languid and needy all at once, the way he swallowed her exhales and she his. She tasted of plum cider and berry tarts from supper, the merest hint of copper from the blood on her ripe lips. “Please,” she said when they broke apart, and the hand that was not still between her thighs came up to cup his cheek.

Aegon did not flinch at the contact. No, there was never a reason to flinch at her hands touching his face. Instead, he nuzzled into the cool touch of her palm and nosed at the curve of it, desiring to taste her fingers, to nibble and drag his teeth along her wrist where her heartbeat lay.

“Tell me what you wish for, Abrogail,” he told her, his eyes fixed on hers, the gentle cadence of her full name on his tongue as familiar to him as his own. The logs in the fire popped and he watched her throat bob as she swallowed. Don’t tell me to leave, he silently begged. Let me adore you, let me touch you, let me taste and have you, let me know it’s alright.

“Please.” A third time. Songs said wishes needed to be said three times. “Let me be the only one you touch this way. Aegon? If you want to have me, let it only be me.”

I’ve never asked for anything from you, Aegon.

Aegon’s heart thudded as loud as a war drum, so loud he swore that it was echoing in the room. His eyes searched her face and she was guileless, as always, soft and pliant against him and he could see the way her own heavy lidded gaze searched his. A soft exhale escaped him when she pressed against him of her own volition this time, the fabric of his breeches all that separated his hardening cock from the curve of her ass.

I loved a maid as fair as autumn, with sunset in her hair. His Maiden, shivering from arousal, for a peak not yet reached, begging for him and begging to be his only. His Abby never asked for anything, and yet she asked for this. This one thing that people like them should never expect, never want.

“Should I be faithful to you,” he murmured with his mouth pressed against the soft pad of flesh at the base of her thumb, “my darling hunītsos, I can have you however I desire?” He had a thousand fantasies of how he’d take her. In her bed, in his, on the back of Sunfyre, in the solar, in the stables, the stairwell… and yet this moment gave birth to a thousand more and he was breathless with it.

His sharp teeth nipped at her palm and Abby jerked, the softest and most surprised giggle escaping her. Aegon couldn’t help but smile at the innocently playful sound and he pressed a kiss to her lifeline.

“Yes, you may,” she whispered. “Mo realta geal.” Aegon blinked in surprise at the foreign words, and it took him longer than he’d admit to realize she’d spoken the Riverlands tongue he hadn’t heard from her in years. Abby’s voice was such a blend of the lilt of her home and the accent of the Keep that he’d long stopped registering it, but the words that flowed from her, musical and light, brought it rushing back.

“What does that mean?” he asked, and she giggled softly, teeth scraping against her lower lip. “You’re not going to tell me?” Abby shook her head, a soft sound in the negative, and squealed when he snapped his teeth against her hand with a low growl. Aegon watched in fascination as the bite and growl had Abby’s answering squeals taper off into strangled moans, and he felt her body shudder and press tightly back, wriggling and shivering. The tugging low in his gut went straight to his cock and his fingers pressed against her belly to hold her in place while he rubbed himself against her backside.

Abby shivered and he felt her toes curl again against his calves. “A-aeg… please.” A strangled whimper, her eyes fluttering and face flushing a deeper shade of red that matched her hair.

“Please?” he asked, his fingers resuming the lazy touch along the petal soft underside of her breast, and his other hand stroked down her stomach to the soft skin above the thatch of red curls. Louder, Abby cried, and he leaned down to capture it before it could get too away from her. Her sounds belonged to him and him alone, and he wanted to taste them and see if they were as sweet as her penchant for all sweet things. “Touch you here?” He wasn’t really asking at all. Aegon stroked the back of his fingertips over her damp curls where her own fingers rested and shifted his mouth to drag his tongue along the bead of sweat coursing down her throat and took a taste of her pulse.

Her answering moan was all that he needed to finally join her fingers. He relished the way her body went taut and her back bowed, how violently she shook with the first experimental stroke of his middle finger skating feather soft over that bundle of nerves she’d been struggling with. His calloused fingers squeezed her breast soft in his palm, thumb swiping over the pebbled peak. Aegon swore he could see the way her blush bloomed like spring across her belly when he looked down to their hands, begging for him to drag his tongue across the clenching curve and the beads of sweat that gathered.

Aegon’s middle finger caressed further down, gliding through her slick folds and over her fluttering entrance to find a soft ridge of skin. Her maidenhead was still intact. The sound that escaped him was something he’d never felt before; the growl he made felt like it belonged to Sunfyre more than he.

His. That fragile bit of skin, that most intimate part of her that belonged to him. He imagined the little streak of crimson smeared on his cock while she writhed beneath and he throbbed painfully in anticipation.

Not tonight. He wanted to take care of her tonight. For now, he focused on his touch. The sound was just as wet and obscene as he’d imagined, the touch of her cunt wet and soft. “Are you going to help me, hunītsos? Tell me what you like.”

Abby whimpered and her hips rolled into his hand through clear instinct and she turned her face into his cheek. He hushed her softly, but not truly meaning it, for he wanted to hear every sound that escaped her so he could learn how to pluck her properly. “Or do you not know what you like, hm?” He kissed her nose and the curve of her cupid’s bow with soft, innocent pecks. “Is that why I didn’t see you peak?”

“I can’t… it’s too much,” she choked out, and her slick fingers gripped the wrist of his exploring hand. He could feel how the skin had wrinkled from how long she’d been working herself. He crooned wordlessly to her and licked along her quivering mouth, twisting his own hand to take hers and twine their fingers together, the back of her hand pressed into his palm.

Poor little thing. She could not have much of an idea of what she was doing if she had not been able to make herself come.There was the warm swell of pride in his chest that she’d never know pleasure that wasn’t by his hands and his mouth, and eventually his cock. That he’d get to do this for her, to treasure her this way, to make her feel the way no one else could ever hope.

Aegon hummed against her mouth briefly before lifting his head and taking a look at the way she was laid out before him. Her thin nightgown was gathered up beneath her arms and useless in covering any part of her and his own heated skin felt like too much. He still had his boots, and the weight of the dagger inside was still there.

Regretfully, Aegon pulled his hand away and the frantic whine that escaped her made him grin and nip at her nose.

“Come back,” she pouted, so very unlike her, and reached for him. The possessive feeling inside of his chest, that tender place where Sunfyre curled inside of him, flared hot and warm at her need for him - him and no one else.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, stroking his wet finger along her lip before he pulled away further so he could sit up. Her head lay on the mattress, the golden red halo of hair that escaped her braid wild around her face and she gazed up at him. Abby was a vision. He could see her shaking from how strong her arousal was, the spray of goosebumps along her skin, how achingly taut her pretty pink nipples were. Her hands reached for his shirt and he grinned, lifting his arms to reach back and pull his shirt over his head and tossed it to some other place that didn’t matter.

Immediately, her hands pressed against his belly. He’d regained some of his muscle since Cole had been putting him through his paces, and the lack of inordinate amounts of wine had ebbed away some of his softness. He groaned low at the feel of her slick fingers leaving streaks over his stomach and watched, mesmerized, as her hand moved down to tentatively stroke over the thick erection barely contained by his half laced breeches.

Aegon sucked in a long breath and reached out to stroke her hair back from her face while she touched him, his eyes trying to shut. But he kept his gaze focused on her face. Trembling, yes. Inexperienced, definitely. But instead of demure and fragile, hiding herself from him, his Maiden had propped herself up on an elbow and her soft face scrunched up in unrestrained curiosity. Pearly teeth bit at her lower lip and her eyes rolled up to meet his.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, cupping her cheek. In answer, his preening Abby leaned forward to press a kiss against his stomach. Aegon thought the Stranger would take him there. Thoughts of gently encouraging her to take him out and wrap her delicate fingers around him flooded his mind. How he’d tenderly guide her on how to please him, how to take him so he could rest his cock on the soft pillow of her tongue, how he’d watch her eyes as he disappeared inside her succulent mouth.

Fuck, he thought. I’ll come right now. Aegon felt like a new boy again, peaking in his breeches at the sight of a pair of tits and fluttering eyes.

The heated thrum of his blood had him thinking of taking the dagger from his boot to slice away her useless nightgown and he was going through the last threads of his restraint not to. She could keep that last beacon of her modesty, even when she was bare and open to him. Instead, Aegon moved to remove his boots and dropped them to the floor, the dagger finding a place on the side table. He nudged her aside so he could push her pillows up and then took his place reclining back against the headboard.

“Come here, ñuha hunītsos,” he commanded her. The gown fell back down when she moved over to him and uncertainty had pushed away the curiosity that lightened her features just a moment before. Her nerves were coming up and Aegon reached for her, grazing his fingers along her arms. “Only you, Abs, I promise.” Only her. He’d only touch her this way. She eased into his open arms. She was so pliable even while she trembled, exactly like a little rabbit, and it made him hungry. Gods above, he was a man starving. Before he could think better of it, Aegon reached up to the neckline of her gown and tore it in one swift, sharp motion. The sound of it giving way was as loud as the crackling fire and Abby’s beautiful eyes rounded, mouth falling open in shock and she squeaked.

“Aegon!” High pitched and barely a whisper, Abby was caught between giggling and scolding him, clutching at the torn edges of her nightgown. She was so deeply pink, she could be one of the blossoms in the garden. I want to write songs to the way you look right now. “What are you-”

He cupped her face and greedily drank from her mouth again, eager to hear and taste and feel more of those sounds from her. Eager to alleviate her nerves and to draw her back into the heavy lidded decadence she had just been in. He wouldn’t apologize for it either. Seven, he’d keep the ripped garment as a trophy, kept under his pillow to comfort him when he had only his hands for company. To pass away the endless days before she’d be in his bed every night.

Aegon drew her back in and she came into his arms, and something broke in the cage of his ribs to have her curled up against him, her breasts pressed up against his chest, every inch of her curved into his spaces, as if he were Galladon of Morne and she truly was the Maiden herself come down to love him. He’d been with women, too many to count and too much of a drunken haze to remember much, but here and now, it was seared into his memory with the boldest of color and sound and taste. To have her curled against him like this, whining and whimpering his name like a prayer made him drunker than his favored arbor red.

A final, tender kiss, and Aegon regretfully pulled away from the sweetness of her mouth to gently turn her so she was sitting in his lap. The gown had been lost and she was naked in his arms when he coaxed her to lean back. Her pert ass fit against his nearly painful erection, and her head rested back on his shoulder. “Relax,” he told her while he watched the way his splayed fingers encompassed her thighs and coaxed them apart to hook on either side of his slightly bent legs. He did not want to have her closing them during this. Aegon wanted her open for him.

“Fuck,” he muttered for the countless time against her shoulder and laved his tongue along the salty taste of her skin before pressing reassuring kisses against the trail. Abby squirmed, her hands coming up to cover herself and he let her have it for the moment. There was no harm in it, and it brought him such joy to see the way her delicate fingers spanned the soft weight of her breasts. “You’re so beautiful. Such a good girl.”

Abby gulped for air and nodded. “I try so hard.” He smiled against the curve of her shoulder and watched his fingers stroke along the damp, sensitive skin of her thighs.

“I know you do. You try so hard at everything. Let me do this for you, Abby. But you have to promise me something.”

“A-anything. Anything, Aegon.” So trusting. So fucking trusting and he swore he would be worthy of this unyielding faith she had in him.

“You told me you never asked me for anything-” She made a sound and moved to turn, but he bit down into the softness of her shoulder and instead she cried out in shock, in pleasure, maybe a light bit of pain. In the carriage, she has made the softest of moans when he’d tugged her hair, and the way her skin flushed when he cupped the fragile curve of her neck had heated his blood and made him curious what hidden desires he might coax from his hunītsos. His wanton little rabbit who desired him with such bright eyed eagerness, without fear or hesitation. Aegon soothed the bite with a kiss before continuing. “But I want you to ask me for more, to tell me when something feels good. I only desire your pleasure. Let me do this for you.”

Abby met his eyes then, and he could barely make out the beautiful blue in how blown her pupils were. Her pink tongue darted out to lick her lips.

“Yes,” she whispered and it sounded like a prayer, it sounded like relief as she sagged into his body, and when Aegon pressed his middle and ring finger against her mouth, she opened up and greedily sucked them down with the lingering taste of her clinging to his skin. His other arm held her close to him and he dragged his fingertips slowly up and down the center of her body, from between her pert breasts down her along the clenching muscles of her belly. The sound of her mouth went straight to his cock and Aegon carefully shifted against her ass to keep his own peak at bay. Slowly, he drew his fingers away and he didn’t hesitate to finally drag them once more between her folds. The sight of watching his hand there, against her curls twisted something deep inside of him that had his head spinning.

Abby was soaking. He could already feel the dampness running onto the front of his breeches and he let out a low, long moan of his own. “You sound like the heavens,” he told her with his mouth against the shell of her ear, tongue licking against the soft skin. Aegon took his time simply relishing in the way she felt, exploring the shape of her before he mercifully began to stroke his fingers against the bundle of nerves she struggled so much with. Abby let out a strangled cry and her body arched, but he held her tight, the same way he did when she tried to move too much on Sunfyre; to hold her close against him so the feel of her could sear into his skin, so she could feel the pounding of his heart in tune with hers.

“More,” she whispered in a strangled voice, and the curl of his grin was a feral thing against the shell of her ear. Her hips rolled into his touch even with the way he held her steady and the whine she made was a heady thing. “Too much,” she said almost immediately after the words spilled. He laughed and continued the steady rhythm of circling that precious spot.

“More and too much,” he teased, and Abby tried to arch again when he tapped gently, the sound of it soft and slick. Her toes spread out as her heels pressed frantically into the bed and he could feel the way she shook beneath his touch. Vibrating and threatening to fall. “You must have worked your poor little cunt for so very long to be this close already.” Aegon’s cock was aching. He felt like his balls would burst and if he couldn’t bury himself inside of her. He wanted to decorate her with his spend and trace it across her fire-touched skin.

Aegon kept the pace, fingers steadily increasing the pressure on that aching clit of hers. Slowly, his hand rose from where he pressed it against her belly to cup the breast he’d teased before. He barely had the time to relish the weight of it before the swipe of his fingers against that tightly pebbled nipple sent her falling over the edge, a cry so loud he had to quickly clap his hand over her gaping mouth so as not to alert her brother in the next room. It did little to stop her. If anything, Abby whined louder, shuddering against his body, her hips rolling up into his hand in a clear seeking motion. It was enchanting, a heady thing more intoxicating than the finest red wine, or her sweet ciders that he favored lately.

“Lykirī,” he commanded her and in response, Abby’s teeth caught on his fingers and nipped sharply. An amused laugh vibrated through him and puffed against her curls and Aegon slapped her cunt, his own teeth catching along the smooth column of her neck. Fingers now two knuckles deep in her warm mouth, he had to hook his leg around one of hers to keep her from squirming away. “I won’t leave you without seeing how you take me,” he promised. Warned, truly, while he pressed warm, wet kisses along the curve of her shoulder. He was pulsing against the curve of her ass, unable to help the roll of his hips up to try ease the ache.

Aegon’s middle finger traced her still fluttering entrance and gently, carefully, oh so tenderly, he pressed the blunt tip of his finger in. Her first peak would make it easier, but he was barely to the second knuckle before he bit down on the curve of her shoulder and let out a low groan.

Abby was a vice, tight and warm, and all he could think was ‘how the fuck am I going to fit?’

He needed to stop for his own self, for her to get used to the intrusion. Aegon was left gasping against her skin and trying to tell himself he couldn’t sink in all the way, that he couldn’t add a second digit and feel her stretch and whine. He didn’t want to hurt her. No, Aegon wanted to show her the pleasure she would find with him, in his arms, in their marriage bed. Abby choked around his fingers, pulling them from her mouth with a gasp, strings of spit connecting his hand to her swollen lips.

“Feels… feels… good.. You’re so good… to me…” she panted, and something warm and bright bloomed within his chest at her praise. Aegon’s finger pressed deeper and she rolled her hips up and he felt her arm squirm awkwardly between them, but he was too distracted by the warm vice of her body until he felt her soft hand over the hardness of him. He gasped and his own fragile whimper tore from him. Unbidden and instinctive, he rubbed his mouth against her shoulder and felt his vision going hazy and spotty. Aegon’s hips rolled up into her hand, wanting to bare himself to her and let her play and explore, but he realized that just as he had snared her into him, she had done the same. “For me?” she asked, and Aegon thought he was going to die. Another whimper, a choked gasp of laughter as he slowly sunk in as far as he could.

“Always,” he promised her. Her fingers squirmed and when she moved her body to give herself more room, it forced herself to ride his finger, which in turn made her tremble and shake. Abby’s petite grasp was scrambling against the half undone laces and Aegon’s hand moved with her body to help her work her hips against him. Her arousal was dripping onto his hand, the wet sound of their joining nearly better than the little grunts and shaky mewls she made. He tried to hush her and Abby lifted his hand to suck down his fingers again to muffle her sounds.

He was going to die. Aegon was going to die in this bed, his Maiden shimmering and shining from pleasure, the last thing he’d taste and touch and see. When her fingers managed to slip inside of his half-laced breeches, cool hands against his warm flesh, he was so utterly lost. Aegon groaned, her name a mantra as he bit down into the curve of her shoulder, his finger moving more frantically inside of her, curling up to find that spot that would make her shake. He hadn’t peaked in his breeches since he was a lad, and there he was, rutting up against her hand.

It was only through his own experience that he kept going until she followed him back over the edge, crying against the gag of his fingers and little rush of damp slipping across his palm while he worked her down. The feel of her squeezing his finger, and her own hand on him, had his mind spiraling, and it was taking everything in him not to shift her body over his and thrust his cock deep into her.

Aegon lost time after that. His head had gone fuzzy and hazy and when his senses had come back, his arms were wrapped around her. Abby had turned against him enough that she could press her face into his neck, and with heavy lidded eyes, Aegon watched her look at the way her own hand glistened with him.

Tentatively, Abby lifted her hand to her mouth and the tip of her tongue darted out to lick him from her finger.

He had died. Aegon Targaryen had died bringing his betrothed her first peaks, and came with just a touch of her hand like a kitling. Now he was in the afterlife, watching her savor the taste of him, smelling like bergamot and sugar, of sunshine and musk.

“You’re…” Aegon’s words trailed off and he nosed against her, licking his way into her mouth and tasting himself on her tongue. He had no words for what he felt. Her hands reached into his hair to tug and bury those messy fingers and Aegon didn’t care. His own hand, covered in her, stroked along her hip and hauled her closer to him, her breasts crushed against his chest, nipples dragging against his skin. Blindly, he reached for his discarded shirt and when they broke away, Aegon shifted them so he could slide his shirt over her head and do up the laces.

Abby was heavy limbed and flushed, the ocean blue of her eyes glittering beneath her drooping eyelids. She was a mess, and so was he, and had this been any other time, he’d order them a bath and fresh sheets. He’d cuddle her in the steaming heat of the water and see how quickly he could make her shatter, and guide her in the desperate dance she clearly was eager for.

For now, it was a secret thing. Something sacred, maybe holy.

Aegon knew nothing except that Abby was yawning and burrowing into his chest and he could do nothing but stroke her sweaty curls from her cheeks and press kisses against her freckles. The night was long ahead of them. There would be enough time to leave.

Not even his mother could tear him from her arms right now.

[Chapter Nine]

#fic: the maiden and the drowning boy #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen fic #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen #aegon x oc #aegon ii targaryen x oc #hotd #hotd fic #hotd fanfic #house strong #aegon x abby

[writingsofwesteros]

Aegon who would be soft and gentle, making love to his wife while he was just a prince, even letting her ride him and set the pace or choose how much of him she took in. He never wanted to hurt her or give her more than she could handle, his deep obsessive love for her preventing him from doing so.... that's until he becomes king. Something in Aegon turns darker and so does his love for her. He becomes more possessive and feels like he owns her and should have complete control of everything: her laugh, smile, hair, touch, happiness, pain, love, body, and womb. Aegon sees her conversing with Ser Criston and Aemond, smiling and laughing too much for his liking and swears he would kill the men one day for his wife allowing something that should only be for him. He acts like everything is alright while he's breaking down on the inside, flickering back and forth from violent images of him slaughtering every man in the kingdom so she could never slip up again... to ideas of what he would do to her over the next few weeks to teach her a lesson and mark her for the whole world to see, most surely to disgust his poor mother and make her cry from how sacrilegious they were.

Aegon starts by slowly fucking her rougher, not sure where to start until he visits a brothel that specializes in more hardcore sex, having found it after following one of the city guards in (they're always so stressed from work, so they need to let off steam somehow ;) ) He refuses to touch any of the girls, instead standing around and watching how the men totally dominate the women, doing anything from spitting in their mouth to making them hump their boot to tag teaming their pussy with another man or a special toy. Aegon starts incorporating the things he saw at the brothel in his sex life, manipulating his sweet conservative wife into bending to his every whim despite how degrading it is and finds an odd pleasure in knowing she would visit the sept to pray for forgiveness every time they'd finished. He likes watching her lay there and catch her breath before stumbling around to get dressed and practically sprinting as much as she could with that bad of a limp to light a candle and beg for mercy for giving into sin. Though it throughs her through emotional loops, he finds it exciting and even takes her somewhat forcibly while she goes to pray, making her sob while moaning like a whore in her sacred place. Aegon visits the brothel a few more times and comes back with armsful of different sex toys (various dildos with different girths/lengths, clit stimulators, butt plugs, etc.), gear (whips, swings, cuffs & other restraints, gags, nipple clamps, collars with leashes, etc.), and some lube or other gels that either numb her, make her more horny, or help with aftercare, along with potent aphrodisiacs to make her mind melt even more.

His wife is in for the time of her life even if against her wishes or morals, eventually stopping herself from leaving the castle halls and later their bedroom from the embarrassment of her very noticeable bruises and continuous limp from their rough fucking. Some people make the joke their queen has been spending too much time with Larys and the man actually thought for a short period she was doing it to mock him. The only time Aegon really shows mercy on her is during her pregnancies, special days like birthdays or anniversaries, and when he she's way too sore from the previous nights. Though that isn't to say he isn't sweeter with her after their first child is born, he isn't as wild as when he first began and doesn't make her do the extreme hardcore stuff, even giving her control a time or two. 👑💀

ALL OF THIS

I can see him using his softness as a manipulation technique as well as I imagine she misses that side of him

Aegon slowly taking away places from her; ruining her in the place of worship is just the beginning

#as ever i bow to you #hot thots #👑💀anon

[maidragoste]

Do you already have some headcanons about Reader kids in HarwinxReader story?

Hello, Anon, I apologize for taking so long to answer your question but I didn't know how to explain myself well since at that time we had not yet chosen the names of the twins.

Strong Twins Headcanons

Alyn:

•He is the eldest of the twins so he is the one who will inherit Harrenhal. He sometimes gets a little envious of Aethan because he would like to have Driftmark. Although he loves being the big brother, he takes advantage of it so that his brothers do what he wants.

He loves to go sailing with his mother and his grandfather. He always looks forward to that time of year when they go sailing. They don't do it as often as he would like because his mother doesn't like being away from King's Landing for too long.

He is observant, like his parents, so he is the first to realize that Larys is his real father and that his cousins are actually Harwin's children. Once he realizes this, their relationship changes completely. He stops playing with Rhaenyra's children and starts sulking every time he sees Harwin… Which is It is often by the rest of his siblings loving Harwin.

Alyn doesn't tell Larys that he knows he's actually his father but Larys realizes… If not, why does Alyn always warn him when Harwin is too close to Reader or every time he hears someone from the court flirt with Reader?

He doesn't like his lessons, they bore him a lot but Larys always finds a way to make learning more interesting.

I prefer family dinners where Harwin is not there because his mother always looks more comfortable, smiles and laughs when they are alone with Larys. He also likes dinners with Queen Alicent and the green children. They are always fun.

His dragon egg never hatched so he understands how Aemond feels seeing everyone have dragons but them. So it's no wonder the two become so close.

He doesn't like the idea of marrying Baela. Since they were children they were always very competitive with each other but Alyn begins to seriously dislike him after the Aemond and Vhagar incident.

He has a crush on Helaena so he's down when she marries Aegon.

Aethan:

Like his twin, he loves sailing. Always for their birthday they both ask to go sailing with their family. His father doesn't usually go there very often because he says he doesn't get along with the sea but Aethan knows that it's really because his grandfather Corlys doesn't like him.

He also loves to fly on his dragon: Alix. Whenever he can, he accompanies his mother and Aegon to the Dragon's pit. He loves racing with them. In general he doesn't usually win but he still has a lot of fun.

• Daeron and Jacaerys always seem to compete for the position of being his best friend but Aethan loves them both equally or so he says… His twin doesn't like that he spends time with Jacaerys but his father always looks happy every time he sees them playing together.

He always looks forward to the end of his father's shift because he likes to spend time with him. Sometimes he brings him a gift, a sweet or a new toy. They have the ritual where Aethan and his siblings have to try to guess what the gift is.

He likes dinners with the royal family but he prefers family dinners with his mother, his father, his uncle and his brothers. They are more intimate.

He likes to fight with the sword but he has more fun when his parents are in the lessons. He doesn't like to practice with Criston Cole because he always makes him fight his cousins. He doesn't want to hurt Jacaerys or Luke or Joffrey.

When the Driftmark incident happens, Aethan is torn because he loves his cousins but he ends up siding with Aemond because at the end of the day he was always closer to the green children. He also feels lost because he never thought that Jacaerys or Lucerys would hurt someone. He feels like he doesn't know any of them anymore.

Unlike Alyn he isn't as committed to him. He's always liked Rhaena and now that they live together in King's Landing they have time to get to know each other better.

I hope you liked my headcanons and that you are well, anon 🥰❤️. Again I apologize for taking so long to reply. If you ever text me again, if you want you can choose an emoji so I can identify you

#lu speaks #the sea dragon the clubfoot and the green queen #harwin strong #larys strong #aemond targaryen #rhaena targaryen #alyn strong #aethan strong #velaryon reader #harwin x reader #larys strong x reader #hotd x reader #anon <3 #anon ask #thanks for the ask! #ask me anything #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon

[scalamore]

Speculation Detail - Rupert's birthday

The story consistently reminds us that Rupert is a "summer" person - or more precisely, a "midsummer" person.

He was born on a midsummer day, on a sweltering hot day

His eyes is as green as a midsummer day's greenery

A neat detail, is that in TL1, Lari died on a sunny summer day, or more specifically, a sweltering hot midsummer day.

in TL2, she married Rupert on a hot midsummer day. The first sentence of the series is "I died on a bright and sunny summer day." and the last sentence is "Life is like a sunny summer day". In TL1, no one knew his real birthday, not even Rupert himself. In TL2, he received his first birthday gift ever from Lari (indirectly) Its poetic to note then, if this was intentional, where in TL1, Lari was executed on his birthday - he's the reason for her life ending; He was someone who never had an ounce of joy in his life, and found no meaning even for his birth. Yet in TL2, Rupelali married on his birthday; and it's a sign of a fresh new start of their life together. By having it on his birthday, it also sends a message that he's an important person, who's birth has meaning and he has Lari by his side, who is happy he was born ^^ (He had wondered during the separation what was the meaning of his existence, and this is one way for him to find meaning: he was meant to find and love and be happy with Lari :DDD)

#your majesty please spare me this time #rupelali #manhwa #rofan #otome isekai

[ma1dita]

well i mean if everyone is gonna do it here is gonna look BAD for me if i dont

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MS REID 🎈🎈🎈

bye you acting like you werent in my dms wishing me happy birthday at midnight your time

love you lari 😭😭😭🤍🤍🤍

#mooties: lari ! (˶ ˘ ³˘)ˆᵕ ˆ˶) #જ⁀➴ jo answers !

[hotchfiles]

LARI HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY SWEET 💓💓💓💓 i hope you have the bestest day ever and that this next year is extremely kind to you & is full of nothing but amazing things 🥰🥳 I LOVE YOU TONS

KATIE THANK YOU SO MUCH THIS IS SOOOOOO INCREDIBLY SWEET 😭😭😭😭 i so wish you the very very same!!!! and if you ever want to vent you can always come to my dms!!!!!!! LOVE YOUUU

#lari has like a heart

[moshi-roulette]

Larinae

Name:

Larinae

Nicknames:

Lari

Age:

17

Gender:

Male

Pronouns:

He/Him

Sexuality:

Cupioromantic

Birthday:

Jan 21

Zodiac:

Aquarius

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

Personal Facts

Personality:

He is known to be very energetic and adventurous, constantly wanting to go out into the sea and explore everything the world has to offer. He tends to be very happy-go-lucky and rarely lets anything get him down. He is also quite naive and tends to trust people far too easily, usually leading him into some trouble. His number one wish is to one day explore the vast waters of the world and to become a great sailor. He also gets curious very easily and likes to learn a lot about things. Every so often, he enjoys visiting a dear friend of his.

Likes:

Talking with his friend

Dislikes:

Rough Weather

Hobbies:

Sailing, Fishing

Species:

Humanoid Seagull

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

Relationships

Siblings:

Unnamed Younger Sister

Friends:

Corvus

Other:

Unnamed Father

Unnamed Grandma

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

Fun Facts

He’s afraid of thunderstorms

Theme:

“Wellerman” by Nathan Evans

#synthical creations #original character #Wellerman

[tsttoain]

Oh it's your birthday! Happy happy birthday, Lari!! 🥳🎉🎊

Thank you Anjel ☺️

#asks #me

[morulezopelforever]

El Sopo & Friends - Dancing and Partying in Tbilisi

Here are some tidbits from my new ATWD fanfic, which is part of a series but which can be read as an individual story as well. It involves trick-or-treating at Halloween, a party at Sopo's restaurant (El Sopo, the only Tex-Mex eatery in the Caucasus) and some unexpected romantic enhancement for Merab, Mary and Irakli!

A Halloween charity run.

When they were back on the pavement Irakli, Merab and Ninutsa lit cigarettes and checked Sopo’s goodie bag. It was fairly full after dozens of visits at various houses. Most people had given dinner leftovers. ‘The boiled potatoes and the khinkali are all smushed,’ Sopo grumbled. ‘And they gave us gravy, too, without a Tupperware box…Yuck, those chocolates are fucked. It smells revolting.’

Aleko was the treasurer. He counted the pecuniary donations. ‘Five euros, seventeen lari and six hundred Austrian shillings.’ He frowned. ‘Oh damn, those are worthless. The currency was abolished over twenty years ago. But still, people give from the goodness of their hearts and we should all be grateful.’

Sopo flung the bag onto the pavement and trampled on it with her Mexican boots. ‘It’s nothing, bloody nothing!’ she growled. ‘Makes me wonder why I bothered to come along.’

Merab smiled at her. She had recently quit smoking and had been in a continuous state of PMS ever since, as David put it. But she smiled back at Merab. It’s because I’m looking so cute in my old corduroy coat and the tartan cap, he thought.

He had Doggie with him on a leash. She was wearing a pumpkin costume that looked absolutely adorable on her. It had earned her some dog treats from nice people earlier on. It was a pity that Sopo had devoured them. Now that Sopo no longer smoked she had the most outrageous food cravings.

****

Sopo is throwing a costume party dressed as Madame de Pompadour. Pity her friends aren't.

The environment and its first visitors where looking pleasant. David had shaved his upper lip and his chin clean, leaving only hair on his cheeks. He had donned a top hat, a black suit with a white collar and a cloak. Nino was dressed as a chimney sweeper with a cardboard ladder and a brush on a string attached to her jacket. She was a luck charm.

Mary was very Victorian. Her hair was parted and braided into buns over her ears. The plainness of her black dress suggested grateful servitude. Dear Mary. She had graduated with a master diploma from London Uni a few weeks ago, but she had come home for good and she did not like it. Her boyfriend Stanley was still in England. Sopo’s heart ached for her.

The ache turned into ire when Irakli entered the room from the kitchen. He had been working at his (her) pub next door and never bothered to change into fancy dress. In his wake was a yellow something – yes, something.

‘Why are you wearing an Ajax Amsterdam shirt?’ she snapped at him. ‘They plummeted in the Dutch National League last year. You’re supposed to look extravagant tonight, not embarrassing.’

Irakli shied away wordlessly, and then the yellow something stepped forward and kissed her exuberantly, nearly causing her to lose her wig. ‘Happy birthday, Sopo!’ he piped.

‘Merab, why the eff are you wearing a Pikachu suit?’ she fumed.

He shrugged. ‘Akh, the rental agency was all but cleaned out by the other guests. They only had this thing left, apart from Playboy bunny or dictator costumes.’

When Aleko walked in she lost it. He was wearing a chokha over a plain shirt and press-fold trousers, no fancy dress, just traditional Georgian garb. He must be getting senile.

‘Happy birthday!’ he said to her. ‘What a nice party this is…Oh hello Merab, hello Irakli!’

Her madness now took over. ‘Bow down and pay your respect to Madame de Sopodour!’ she shrieked at the three freaks. ‘Bow down and acknowledge my superior being!’

They obeyed and sank onto their knees before her. Merab instantly assumed the role of the poor citizen. ‘But milady, how could we? We can’t even afford bread! Akh, have mercy!’

‘If you can’t buy bread, have khachapuri,’ she snarled. ‘And begone, or else my faithful valet shall slay you!’

***

David is sorting out some clean washing.

David was sitting on a bench outside the kitchen porch of the restaurant with a large basket of washing beside him. When he heard the clicking of Irakli’s leather soles, he looked up with a bleary gaze. Irakli felt a pang of guilt, but he was going to make good for this morning’s success, so he clutched his gift bag and sat down on the bench. The basket was between them, creating a certain distance as had been custom ever since the pandemic, but he was still close enough to elicit a grumbled greeting from the other man.

‘Bro, you smell like a duty-free airport perfumery.’

Irakli sensed David’s unintentional hostility, fished a pack of Astras out of the bag and offered him a cigarette as a token of reconciliation.

They both lit up, blew out smoke and stared at the mess in the courtyard.

‘I-rak-li…!’ a venomous, high-pitched voice sounded from the flat over Mr. Beerakli’s Pub. ‘Did I tell you that you could take my car this morning to drop off Aleko at the airport and to meet your idiotic business partners? I didn’t, did I?’

‘It’s O.K., Merab, I’m only having a smoke with your brother!’ Irakli roared back. ‘I’ll be up in a sec.’

Merab now leaned over the railing of the veranda on the first floor. He was dressed in faded house clothes and wearing an old rag on his head like a bandanna. In his right hand he held a mop as if it were a spear. He looked at Irakli and David and then at his Mercedes, snorted and went back inside.

‘Merab has continuously suffered from PMS ever since he quit smoking,’ David observed. ‘I never knew that men could be like this…’ He sighed. ‘Well, Sopo has kicked the habit as well, and she’s in no better state, but it’s different with women.’

Irakli nodded, too confused to speak. He had been with women, he knew how they were, but all this had turned into a parallel universe ever since he had been in love with Merab. Love was supposed to be a ride in the sky, a fun fair of joy and bliss, but in Tbilisi, or rather in this little realm that was completely owned and ruled by Sopo, it was overtaken by everyday life, and everyday life in modern Tbilisi meant that men not only suffered when their lovers were doing major cleaning, but were also expected to help with household chores.

#and then we danced #merab x irakli #atwd #ao3 fanfic

[baubeautyandthegeek]

Unexpected Interruptions - Saffi + Laris

A/N; Written for the second prompt from @saffi-bingo​ ‘s card. 

Laris backs out as quickly as she interrupts, looking slightly embarrassed as she apologizes, barely hiding her smile when Seven reaches to stop her, risking a glance back at Raffi. Raffi laughs softly then beckons her over. “I guess we should tell you what’s going on…” Laris hates admitting how she feels about them both, but she does care for them. Seven had been the one to welcome her home, Raffi content to let her take her time to come closer, but they all know the loss of Jean-Luc is keenly felt. Laris pretends well, but she is struggling. “I would… like to know.” Laris admits. She is still hesitant. Still nervous and Raffi smiles, moving to gently take her hands when she sits. “We were discussing how best to…. Safeguard you.” “Safeguard?” “Starfleet are… hesitant to…” “To let me stay. I know.” Seven moves then, sitting quickly as Laris shudders, moving to trail a light hand over Laris’ shoulder, pressing the perfect spot to drag a sigh from Laris as she relaxes. “They cannot remove married Romulans.” Laris’ breath catches then and Raffi moves swiftly, kissing both Laris then Seven, Seven’s response is sweet, tender and lingers as she kisses Raffi, shifting to draw Laris into her lap in the process, curling around her enough Laris allows it. “Alright… We are agreed?” Seven’s matter of fact voice drags a laugh and nod from Laris. “We are agreed.” Raffi smiles then and it’s bright and sweet and warm, Seven’s chuckle soft. “Happy Birthday Raff, you got your wish.”

#saffi prompts #lasaffi #laris #seven of nine #raffi musiker #saffi bingo #star trek picard

[annikasevenshots]

Star Trek Picard: Season 3 Episode 1 Reaction

Who's missed these from me. The screaming you all love to hate. Muah.

Beverly is so 🆒. I actually have no notes. Obsessed with Gates' hair it is On Fleek

Laris being the voice of reason and not being written out to make space for Bev? Very interesting.

Old communicator chirp noise my beloved

"No Starfleet" Picard: i know a guy 🥰 hello riker from starfleet who will contact seven from starfleet for help 😋

No one likes the phat ships 😢 Enterprise D it's okay honey we love you for who you are dummy thicc and all 🥺

RAFFI TIME RAFFI TIME RAFFI TIME

THERE'S MY GIRL

excuse me what did that orion slip in that plate to her i've watched this thrice and can't figure it out

NO??????????????????

"my girlfriend left me" NOOOOOOOOOOO??????????????

CALL ME A WEEWOOWEEWOO I AM MENTALLY UNSTABLE

GUYS NO PLEASE CMON I AM BEGGING

I DONT CARE IF SHES UNDERCOVER YOU CANT DO THIS TO MY GAY ASS HEART

GUYS PUT IT BACK I DONT LIKE THIS SHOW ANYMORE I DONT WANNA BE IN A UNIVERSE WHERE SEVENS LEFT RAFFI

I CANNOT DEAL WITH THIS I AM AT MY FUCKING LIMIT.

Ngl seeing the dramatic Titan ship pan just reminds me of the gratuitous Cerritos ship pans in LWD which never fails to make me cackle

Titan theme is so beautiful. I think it's fast approaching my favourite just behind Voyager

The way it intersects with the TNG theme? Chefs mf KISS. Hit me with that shit I want it all

Seven!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Commander Annika Hansen" SHAW COUNT YOUR FUCKING DAYS 🔪🔪🔪

I AM AT MY LIMIT I ACTUALLY CANNOT DEAL WITH THIS ANYMORE

Thanks! I hate it!

bby laforge 🥺 for to blorbo? me for blorbo? blorbo for me? for blorbo to????????

Picard telling Seven she'd make a great captain? My heart cannot handle this shit i'm out

Seriously guys i have to do next week with heart medication i was not made to handle this shit

"Should we tell Engineering we're going at lizard space warp 9.99"

At least the show is self aware that Picard is a bit of a fossil ngl, i respect that

Shaw eating blue meat 🤢 sir tf is THAT

Does shaw season his meat with blue raspberry kool aid. Quickly

I wish shaw a very ✨die✨ ❤️

Hate how Shaw treats Seven but tbh i respect a captain that can stand up to picard and riker. Like he's not wrong they can't just abuse their power that's long gone anyway

Also sorry Picard but you have got to stop bringing your own wine as gifts not everybody wants that shit

seven being 👁️👄👁️ during the meal is a mood because same

Love how Riker and picard just barrel ahead without waiting for or checking on Seven. Especially after how awful Shaw was to her. Way to use your friends guys well done gentlemen

"Good morning, sweet girl" raffi you are killing me

How does she look so good

Raffi having her vape horgl with her on the La Sirena is somewhat bittersweet

Headcanon that there are snakeleaf vines in her room. You are not allowed to disagree ❤️

jesus christ worf mysterious handler why the fuck would you pull up that personnel file 😭

RAFFAELA MUSIKER SHARES MY BIRTHDAY??????????? YALL BE FR I CANNOT DEAL WITH THIS ANYMORE

GOODBYE I AM ASCENDING

WHAT

WHAT LITERALLY

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

SCREAMING CRYING

i. raffi. same birthday. no. oh my god. oh my god.

oh, raffi... :(

How tf is Seven around on the bridge more than the captain. They're making her the not-captain captain of the titan and for what

Seven saying what i've always wanted to say like why yes i too would like to airlock picard for his audacity

Riker: grants permission to speak freely

Seven: speaks freely

Riker: no not like that >:(

Shaw being a snork mimimimi king was not on my picard s3 bingo but you know what. Mood.

Brain is too scrambled to take in the rest but

Oh my god

Loved the music

Welcome back my space moms

Oh my god this season is killing me already

In conclusion i'm delirious because they dropped the episode at 12am after i tried to watch streams of it twice on the world's shittiest wifi whilst travelling across the country. Happy premiere day.

#star trek picard #picard spoilers #reaction #spoilers #picard s3 #s3e1

[meladi-artz]

Happy birthday to the lovely @laris-art

#al haitham #albedo #genshin #genshin impact #my art