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pucksandpower · 8 months

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Ties That Bind

Charles Leclerc x royal!Reader + Max Verstappen x sister!Reader

Summary: life as Princess of the Netherlands is pretty perfect but when health issues become a (literal) royal pain, you discover a familial connection that will change your life forever

Warnings: struggles with infertility, child abandonment, serious health issues, medical procedures and treatments

This is what happens when I’m insane enough to try juggling writing an 8k+ word fic with studying in medical school

The night was a cascade of ethereal snowflakes, each one glistening under the pale moonlight, landing gracefully upon the earth. The silver car glided along the road, its headlights illuminating the path through the thick curtain of snow, like two piercing eyes navigating through sorrow.

Inside, Prince Frederik of the Netherlands drove in silent contemplation, the weight of the day’s news pressing heavily on his heart. Beside him, Princess Marianne stared out of the frosted window, her reflection capturing swollen eyes that glistened with fresh tears. Her fingers trembled slightly, crumpling yet another now irrelevant medical report indicating one more failed IVF attempt.

“I thought this time would be different,” Marianne whispered, her voice quivering. “I truly believed it.”

Frederik’s grip on the wheel tightened. He turned to his wife, pain evident in his eyes. “I know, my love. I know.”

As they drove, Frederik’s eyes caught a glimpse of something unusual by the side of the road. “What’s that?” He murmured, slowing the car.

Marianne followed his gaze. “It looks like a bundle ... stop the car!”

Frederik brought the vehicle to a halt. They both jumped out and hurried over to the mysterious object. As they approached, Marianne gasped. “Oh my God, Frederik ... it’s a baby!”

She quickly bent down to scoop the tiny, shivering form into her arms. The baby’s skin was cold, blue lips barely parting for shallow breaths as the thin pink blanket wrapped around it did little to fight the chill. “Who could do such a thing?” Marianne cried, holding the child close for warmth.

Frederik’s face hardened. “We need to get her to a hospital. Now.”

Back in the car, Marianne cradled the baby, trying to transfer her warmth. “Stay with us,” she murmured, tears spilling. “Please, stay with us.”

As they sped towards the hospital, Frederik reached over and held Marianne’s free hand. “It'’s a sign,” he whispered. “After everything we’ve been through today ... finding her like this ... it’s fate.”

Marianne looked down at the baby, her fingers gently brushing the soft wisps of hair on the child’s head. “Our little miracle in the snow,” she whispered back.

Frederik smiled faintly, squeezing Marianne's hand. “Yes, our snow angel. We’ll take care of her and she’ll take care of us.”

***

“You know, every time it snows, it feels like the world is celebrating the day we found you,” your father, now King Frederik, remarks, gazing out of the vast palace windows at the flurries descending from the sky.

You smile, reaching for a delicate pastry from the breakfast spread laid out before you. “And every snowflake reminds me of the warmth of this family that saved me from the cold.”

Your mother, Queen Marianne, hair now threaded with silver, gives you a loving glance. “Our snow angel, right when we needed you most.”

“Speaking of snow,” you muse, “I’m thinking of wearing the ice-blue gown for tonight’s gala. Thoughts?”

Your father raises an eyebrow, “For the Children’s Foundation event? Perfect choice. It complements the theme and matches the tiara your mother has picked for you to wear.”

You grin, “Who knew you had such a fashion sense?”

Your mother chuckles, “It’s a king thing. But he’s right. And with your sapphire necklace, you will be the talk of the gala.”

You take a sip of your tea, thinking of the evening ahead. “I want to ensure my speech captures the essence of our foundation’s work. It’s more than just another royal event, this is about making a real difference.”

Your father nods, “It always is for you. That genuine desire to impact lives, it’s how I know you will be a great Queen one day.”

You blush slightly, “I learned from the best.”

Your mother, with a hint of mischief, remarks, “And speaking of learning, have you decided on a dance partner for the first waltz? There’s quite a line-up available.”

You laugh, “Oh, Mom! Let’s not start matchmaking before breakfast is over.”

Your father joins in the mirth, “Give her a break, Marianne. Our snow angel must not melt.”

***

The regal hallways echo with the gentle patter of your heeled footsteps. Lately, the palace, your lifelong sanctuary, feels more like a maze. A sudden wave of dizziness makes you pause, leaning against a gilded wall for support.

“You okay there?” a soft voice calls. It’s your mother, her face etched with worry.

“Just a bit dizzy,” you mumble, attempting a reassuring smile.

She hurries over, her gown flowing. “You’ve been looking pale these past few days.”

Before you can reply, a sharp sensation pricks your nose. Touching it, you’re shocked to see blood on your fingertips. “Oh no,” you whisper, panic creeping into your voice.

Your mother’s eyes widen. “We need to see a doctor.”

“But the gala—”

“Forget the gala!” She interrupts. “Your health comes first.”

***

Inside the royal clinic, the room is a tense silence. Your father paces while your mother sits beside you, holding your hand tightly.

The family physician finally arrives, his expression somber. “Your Highness, Your Majesties,” he begins, “we’ve run several tests.”

“And?” Your father demands, halting his restless walk.

You take a deep, shaky breath, bracing yourself.

The doctor hesitates for a split second. “You have aplastic anemia.”

The room seems to close in. The words hang heavily, turning the opulent clinic cold.

Your mother’s voice trembles, “What does that mean?”

“It’s a condition where the bone marrow doesn’t produce enough new blood cells. This leads to fatigue, higher risk of infections, and uncontrolled bleeding,” the doctor explains.

Your mind races. The symptoms make sense now — the fatigue, dizziness, the nosebleed.

Your father’s face hardens, searching for hope. “What’s the treatment?”

The doctor looks grim, “The most effective treatment at this severity is a bone marrow transplant. We will need to find a matching donor.”

Your mother’s grip tightens on your hand, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “We’ll find one. We have to.”

Your father nods. “We will move mountains if we have to.”

You muster a small smile, drawing strength from your parents. “One snowstorm at a time.”

***

“How long does it usually take to find a match?” Youu inquire, voice trembling ever so slightly.

Dr. Van der Meer, the lead hematologist on your case, sighs, “It varies, Your Highness. Some find a match within their family, others from the global database. It can take days or even months.”

Your mother breaks in desperately, “But surely, with our resources, we can expedite the process?”

Your father adds, “Every avenue, every connection we have at our disposal is yours to use, Doctor.”

Dr. Van der Meer nods, “I understand the urgency, Your Majesties. We’ve already started to search within the national database. Meanwhile, we advise immediate family to get tested first.”

You interject, a sense of realization dawning, “But I’m adopted. Our genetic makeup differs.”

Your father and mother exchange a heavy look, the weight of your situation pressing down on them.

“We still have a vast network, a whole nation even,” your father muses. “Surely someone out there is a match.”

Dr. Van der Meer hesitates then says, “Actually, there has already been a hit from the database. A potential match.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Who?”

“We maintain confidentiality, Your Highness,” he replies. “But once we confirm the match and receive their consent, you will be informed.”

Your mother’s voice is tinged with hope. “So there’s a chance? A real chance?”

You lean forward eagerly. “When will we know more?”

Dr. Van der Meer offers a comforting smile. “Soon, Your Highness. For now, patience is our ally.”

***

“It’s been weeks, Doctor. Why haven’t we heard from the potential donor?” The frustration is clear in your mother’s voice.

Dr. Van der Meer looks up, choosing his words carefully. “The potential donor ... has some reservations.”

Your father’s brow furrows. “Reservations? Isn’t saving a life more important?”

The doctor clears his throat, “It’s a bit more complicated than that, Your Majesty. The potential donor is someone you’re familiar with.”

You lean forward, your curiosity piqued. “Who is it?”

There’s a momentary pause, the silence thickening. “Max Verstappen.”

Shock ripples through the room. The name isn’t just any name. It’s a name known to every Dutch citizen, celebrated in every corner of the nation.

Your mother blinks in disbelief. “The Formula 1 racer? We’ve met him multiple times at the Grand Prix. But why would he have reservations?”

Dr. Van der Meer hesitates, “There’s more to it. We ran some further genetic tests, customary for close matches. The results were ... unexpected.”

Your father leans forward in anticipation. “Go on.”

The doctor takes a deep breath, “Max Verstappen is not just a match. He’s ... he’s your half-brother.”

The room goes still. The revelation hangs in the air, too staggering to fully comprehend.

You feel your world tilt. “That’s impossible.”

Your mother’s voice is a whisper, “How can that be?”

Dr. Van der Meer clears his throat. “The genetic markers were unmistakable. Given the rare degree of compatibility and the markers we found, there is no doubt.”

Your father runs a hand through his hair, trying to process the news. “So all these years, at every Grand Prix, we’ve been cheering for ... family?”

You chime in, a flurry of emotions whirling inside, “And he doesn’t know, does he?”

The doctor shakes his head, “No, not yet. That’s the reservation. Revealing this ... it changes everything for him too.”

Your mother is contemplative. “We’ve celebrated his victories, felt the pride of having him represent our country. And now, knowing he’s family ...”

You interject, “And now, we need him more than ever. Not as a driver, not as a national icon, but as family.”

Your father’s resolve strengthens. “We need to tell him. He deserves to know.”

***

“How do you even begin a conversation like this?” You wonder aloud, staring at the blank screen of your laptop.

Your father, deep in thought, answers, “Honestly, directly, and with sensitivity. It’s uncharted territory for all of us.”

Your mothers adds, “Perhaps start by expressing your genuine feelings, without the weight of our titles or his fame."

You nod slowly, fingers hovering over the keyboard. “Dear Max,” you repeat out loud as you begin typing, then pause. “Too formal?”

Your father shrugs, “It’s sincere. And that’s what matters.”

Taking a deep breath, you continue:

Dear Max,

This isn’t a typical letter and I struggle to find the right words. By now, you might have been informed by the medical team about our unexpected connection. I wanted to reach out personally, not as the Princess of Orange, but simply as ... family.

Your mother reads over your shoulder, “That’s a good start.”

I cannot imagine how jarring this news must be. It was for me too. All these years, our paths crossed, shared smiles exchanged, never knowing the deeper bond we shared.

“Maybe mention the Grand Prix, how it has been a tradition for us,” your father suggests.

Every year at the Dutch Grand Prix, my parents and I cheered for you, felt immense pride in your victories. The realization that those cheers were for family adds a layer of emotion I can’t quite put into words.

I understand if you need time to process this. But I want you to know that this revelation changes nothing about the respect and admiration I hold for you. However, it does add a depth of connection, a newfound kinship.

Your mother, her voice choked with emotion, suggests, “Maybe let him know why it’s important now, about your condition.”

The reason I am reaching out now is not just about our newfound connection but also because of a pressing health concern I am facing. I need a bone marrow transplant, and as it turns out, you are my best match.

“Reassure him,” your father adds. “It’s a big ask.”

I understand the weight of this request. There is no obligation, only hope. No matter your decision, I want you to know that discovering this bond, this link between us, is a gift in itself.

Please take all the time you need. Whatever you decide, I respect and cherish the connection we have discovered. Wishing you all the best on and off the track.

Sincerely,

Y/N

Your father, visibly moved, murmurs, “It’s perfect.”

Your mother nods in agreement, tears shimmering. “It’s from the heart. Now, we wait.”

***

The roaring engines on the racetrack outside fade as the door to the private lounge close behind you. Max Verstappen stands there, his usual confident demeanor replaced with apprehension. The weight of the recent revelations is thick in the air.

“You look different without the crown,” Max remarks, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You chuckle softly, “And you without the helmet.”

The initial ice broken, the two of you sit. A beat of silence passes. Then Max, eyes searching yours, asks, “Why now?”

You take a deep breath. “I’ve always known I was adopted. Every snowy day, my parents would recount the tale of how they found their snow angel. I grew up surrounded by love and privilege, never lacking anything.” Your voice trembles slightly, “But there were nights ... nights I’d wonder about the person who left me there, in the snow. Why didn’t they want me? Why did they abandon me to the whims of a storm?”

Max’s expression softens, his own memories surfacing. “I grew up with my father’s strict guidance. Racing wasn’t just a passion, it was life. There was little room for anything else. I always thought I understood my family but this ...” He sighs, looking away. “It makes me question everything.”

You nod, shared uncertainty bringing you closer. “But through all this confusion, one thing is clear: we’re family. Blood, it seems, has a way of revealing itself.”

Max smiles ruefully, “You know, I have a sister, a full sister. Growing up, we were close but our paths divided. Racing consumed me. Now, discovering I have another sister, you, it’s ... overwhelming.”

You chuckle, “Two sisters. Lucky you.”

He grins, “Twice the protective instincts.”

The humor fades, replaced by raw emotion. “You know,” you whisper, tears brimming, “Despite everything, I’m grateful for our paths crossing like this. Even if it took a lifetime.”

Max reaches out, taking your hand. “Me too.”

The weight of the moment presses on both of you. You look at each other, eyes brimming with tears, souls bared.

In a sudden rush of emotion, you step forward, collapsing into Max’s embrace. He holds you tightly, as if trying to shield you from all the past hurts, regrets, and questions. The warmth of the hug contrasts sharply with the cold memory of that snowy night. In his embrace, the years of wondering, the pain of abandonment, seem to melt away.

Pulling back slightly, you look up into Max’s eyes. With a tearful smile, you whisper, “Brother.”

He grins back, “Sister. How would you feel about attending the next race, not as royalty but as my guest?”

You hesitate, the memories of previous races filled with formalities and protocols. “It will be different.”

Max wraps an arm around you shoulders, “Very. But I promise, you will see the world of racing like never before.”

***

The roar of the engines, the excitement of the crowd — it was all distantly familiar. Yet, standing beside Max, everything feels different.

As you walk through the paddock, Max’s pride is evident. “Guys,” he calls out to his mechanics, “Meet my sister.”

They look up, surprised, then smiles break out across their faces. “It’s an honor, Your Highness,” one of them greets.

Max nudges him, “Just call her by her name.”

You laugh in agreement, “It’s nice to meet you all without the formalities.”

Max continues his introductions, his enthusiasm infectious. When you reach Christian Horner, he looks pleasantly surprised. “It’s been a while,” he remarks, “Though our meetings were always, well, more formal.”

You nod, “It’s a different world from this side of the track.”

Max beams, “And she’s getting the full experience today.”

When the race starts, every moment feels magnified, more personal.

And then, the checkered flag waves for Max.

The Red Bull garage erupts in jubilation. During the celebration, Max, still in his car, locks eyes with you from across parc fermé. You can see the moisture, the emotion in his eyes. The moment he is out of his car, he races over, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“This win,” he whispers hoarsely, “it’s not just for me this time. It’s for us. For family.”

As the Dutch anthem plays during the podium ceremony, tears fill your eyes. The anthem, a proud symbol of your country and kingdom, now also symbolizes the new, ever-growing bond with your brother.

Max, standing tall on the podium, catches your eye and winks. And as the ceremony concludes, he suddenly turns, aiming his bottle of champagne right at you. The spray catches you off guard, laughter bubbling up as the cold liquid soaks you.

“You had to, didn’t you?” You laugh, wiping away the liquid before it can sting your eyes.

Max ruffles your hair, “It’s my new duty as your older brother!”

***

“Hey, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Max says, pulling you towards the thrumming heart of the afterparty.

The vibrant lights and chatter fill the room but everything seems to slow as you’re introduced to a lean figure with tousled hair and hypnotizing eyes. “This is Charles Leclerc,” Max grins, “One of the toughest guys I’ve raced against.”

Charles offers a charming smile, “Pleasure to meet you. Max speaks highly of you.”

You raise your glass in a mock toast to your brother. “Glad to hear that my bribe has been paying off.”

Charles laughs, “Well, considering today’s win, you might just be his favorite person.”

The two of you share a laugh, an effortless ease settling between you as you barely notice Max walking off with a wink shot your way.

“You’ve been to several races, haven’t you?” Charles asks, sipping his drink.

“In a more official capacity, yes. But today was ... different.”

He nods, his gaze intense, “Being family changes the perspective.”

Charles leans in, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Now that you’ve seen me on the track maybe I should show you some of my other talents?”

You raise an eyebrow, the thrill of the night’s excitement mixing with his words. “Oh? What other hidden skills do you possess?”

His voice drops to a sultry murmur. “Well, I make a mean pasta carbonara. Maybe I’ll whip it up for you someday.”

You laugh, the warmth of the moment spreading through you. “I’ll definitely hold you to that.”

Max, watching from a distance, nudges Carlos, “Look at them. Told you they’d hit it off.”

“You know, I’ve always been curious about the life of a princess,” Charles muses, a playful glint in his eye. “Is it all tiaras and tea parties?”

You smirk. “It’s more boring than you would think. But for a driver like you, every day’s a thrill, right? Speeding cars, roaring crowds, adoring fans?”

He grins, leaning closer, the proximity making your heart race. “Most days. But some nights, the thrill is ... elsewhere,” his gaze deepening, locked onto yours.

The two of you are drawn into a world of your own, the party’s noise fading into the background.

He brushes a stray hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering just a moment longer. “Have you ever considered doing a hot lap? It’s quite the rush.”

You laugh, feeling the warmth of his touch. “I don’t know about getting in a race car but I can think of something else I’d love to ride right now.”

As the club’s pulsating music envelops you, Charles leans in, his voice husky over the beat, “Care for a dance?”

You accept, and as you both move to the rhythm, the world around seems to disappear. The close proximity, the electric energy on the dance floor, and the feeling of his body moving against yours is intoxicating.

“Right now,” Charles murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear to be heard above the music, “I feel like the winner tonight.”

You smile, your gaze locked onto his, “The night is still young. Let’s see where it takes us.”

***

“I’ve noticed you’re attending more races lately,” Max comments, a teasing glint in his eyes as you both walk through the paddock.

You shrug, feigning innocence. “Well, I’ve developed quite an appreciation for the sport.”

Max chuckles, “Or for a certain Ferrari driver?”

Blushing, you retort, “Can’t it be both?”

Before Max can respond, Charles approaches, his smile brightening as he spots you. “Good to see you again,” he greets, though his eyes convey a warmth that words can’t.

“You too,” you reply in a voice softer than intended.

The three of you share some casual banter before Max excuses himself, leaving you alone with Charles.

“You know,” Charles starts, “it’s become the highlight of my race weekends, seeing you here.”

You smile, “I’ve come to realize that there’s more to F1 than just the thrill of the race. There are ... other attractions.”

Charles grins, “Is that so? Any attraction in particular?”

You playfully nudge him, “Don’t get too confident, Leclerc.”

Weekends spent at circuits become a regular fixture in your life. While you’re initially there for Max, the increasing time spent with Charles deepens your bond. The stolen glances during press conferences, the private moments away from the limelight, and the late-night conversations make the connection undeniable.

One evening, after a particularly intense race, Charles pulls you aside, his face flushed from the adrenaline. “Every time I cross the finish line and look towards the other garages, I hope to catch a glimpse of you.”

Your heart skips a beat. “And if you do?”

He smiles, “It either makes victory all the more sweet or the sting of defeat not quite as painful.”

***

“You’ve made the front page again,” Max remarks dryly, handing you a tabloid during breakfast.

You glance at the headline, The Princess and the Racer: F1’s Fairytale Romance accompanied by a candid shot of you and Charles out to dinner.

Charles groans, “They make it sound like a soap opera.”

You sigh, “It’s the price we pay, I guess.”

As weeks go by, the media scrutiny intensifies. Every public appearance and every minuscule gesture, is analyzed, often blown out of proportion. The weight of the world’s eyes strains the joy of your newfound relationship.

One evening, after a particularly invasive article speculating about a rushed engagement, Charles pulls you aside, his face drawn with concern. “I noticed you’ve been pale lately, more tired. Is it the stress from all this media attention?”

You hesitate, biting your lip. The truth is, it’s more than just the media. Your health has been deteriorating and you’ve been trying to hide it.

“It’s not just the media,” you admit.

His eyes are filled with worry. “What is it?”

Max, overhearing the conversation, interjects, “It’s her health. She didn't want to worry you.”

Charles looks at you in disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You take a deep breath, “I didn’t want to add to the pressures of the season, to be another burden.”

He reaches out, holding you close, “You’re never a burden. We’re in this together.”

You take a shaky breath, drawing strength from his words. “I’ve been diagnosed with aplastic anemia. It’s a condition where my bone marrow doesn’t produce enough new blood cells.”

Charles pales, “That’s ... serious.”

You nod, “After this race, I’m starting chemotherapy to destroy the dysfunctional bone marrow in preparation for a transplant.”

Silence envelops the room. Charles processes the weight of the revelation, the enormity of the situation sinking in. “Why now?” He finally asks.

“Timing is crucial,” Max chimes in, “She’s been putting it off, not wanting to disrupt the season. But we can’t wait much longer.”

Charles runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “I just wish you had told me sooner.”

You reach out, touching his arm, “I didn’t know how. Everything was happening so fast — our relationship, the media attention. I didn’t want to add more stress.”

Charles pulls you into a tight embrace, his voice choked with emotion. “Promise me, no more secrets.”

You nod, tears streaming down your face, “I promise.”

***

“Are you sure you want to be here for this?” You ask Charles as you both sit in the sterile hospital room, awaiting the doctor who would be overseeing your chemotherapy treatments.

Charles takes your hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “Every step of the way.”

The door opens and the doctor walks in, a gentle but serious look on her face. “Before we begin, there’s something important we need to discuss. The chemotherapy might affect your fertility. It’s not certain but there is a significant risk.”

You freeze. You had expected side effects, the potential hair loss, the fatigue. But this? This was unanticipated. This ripped your heart out of your chest.

Charles tightens his grip on your hand, his face pale. “Is there ... any way to mitigate that risk?”

The doctor nods, “We can retrieve and store your eggs. It’s a procedure done before chemotherapy in some cases. You will need hormone injections for about 10 to 12 days to stimulate the ovaries.”

You look at Charles, your eyes filled with tears, “It’s another delay.”

Charles brushes a tear from your cheek, “We face this together. I am here for you no matter what you decide.”

The days that follow are a whirlwind. Charles is by your side every step of the way, providing both emotional support and administering the daily injections.

Each evening, he carefully prepares the hormone shot. “Ready?” He asks, looking into your eyes.

You nod, trying to put on a brave face. But the physical discomfort is nothing compared to the emotional toll. Still, with Charles by your side, each day becomes bearable.

One evening, as he administers the injection, he whispers, “I’m so proud of you. Your strength amazes me every day.”

Tears spring to your eyes. “I couldn’t do this without you.”

Charles pulls you into a tight embrace, his warmth enveloping you. “You’ll never have to.”

***

“Are you sure about this?” Charles asks, his fingers brushing yours as you lay on the hospital bed.

You take a deep breath, meeting his gaze. “I am. It’s a step towards preserving a potential future, one I hope to share with you.”

His eyes soften. “Every step, I’m here.”

The medical staff move around in the background, preparing for the procedure. The hum of machines and the sterile environment contrast starkly with the intimate bubble you and Charles share.

As the procedure begins, Charles holds your hand, his thumb drawing comforting circles on your skin. “Remember our trip to Monaco?” He murmurs, attempting to distract you. “The sea, the laughter, the little café by the pier?”

A smile tugs at your lips, even as you nod for the OBGYN to proceed. “The one with the overly sweet pastries?”

Charles chuckles, “That’s the one. Imagine us there, a decade from now, two kids in tow, arguing over whether chocolate or vanilla is better.”

The image he paints eases your tension, providing a temporary escape from the clinical room. The retrieval is swift but the emotional weight lingers.

“You did great,” Charles murmurs, brushing a stray hair away from your face.

You smile weakly, “One hurdle crossed.”

The next phase comes swiftly the following day: chemotherapy. The treatment center is full of artificial warmth — the walls painted a deep yellow and the heater working overtime to keep patients as comfortable as possible — but it does nothing to counteract the chill of fear that has taken over your body.

When the nurse enters with the IV bag for your chemotherapy, Charles stands up, his stance protective. “How does this work?”

She explains the process, her voice soft, “The medication will enter her bloodstream and target the rapidly growing cells. There might be some side effects but we will monitor her closely.”

You feel a pinch as the needle is inserted and soon the clear liquid starts making its way into your veins. You blink rapidly, willing the tears away before Charles can see them.

Attempting to lighten the mood, he starts recounting some of his funniest moments from racing. You chuckle at his anecdotes, grateful for the distraction.

Hours pass. The room is filled with a mix of medical beeps and Charles’ voice, offering a counterbalance of cold reality and warm comfort.

As the IV bag nears empty, you feel a wave of fatigue. Charles notices. “Rest,” he urges softly, his thumb caressing your hand.

You nod, closing your eyes, “Thank you for being my anchor.”

He leans in, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Always, for every challenge, every step. Always.”

***

“I still can’t believe you made him go,” your mother murmurs from the chair next to you. The hum of machines and the sterile scent of the hospital room are in stark contrast to the roaring engines and burning rubber of the track that you can almost sense through the television screen.

You manage a weak smile. “He belongs on the track, Mom. This race is crucial for the championship.”

“He wanted to stay,” your father adds. “He’s racing with a heavy heart.”

“I know,” you whisper, a tear trickling down. “But he’s strong. And I want him to win, for both of us.”

The room falls silent, save for the rhythmic beeping of the machines. You can feel the potent cocktail of drugs coursing through your veins, sapping your strength but a necessary step to fight the disease within.

The TV in the corner broadcasts the race. You hear the commentator’s voice, “... Charles Leclerc, giving it his all today. You have to wonder where he’s drawing this intensity from.”

You know the answer.

The laps go by. With each turn, each overtake Charles makes, you can sense his determination, his desire to win not just for the title but for something else … someone else.

“You should rest,” your father advises, noticing your drooping eyelids.

But you resist, wanting to witness Charles cross the finish line.

The final laps are intense. Charles battles fiercely, and as he takes the checkered flag, the room bursts into subdued cheers.

“He did it!” Your mother exclaims.

You feel a swell of pride. “For us,” you whisper, before fatigue takes over and you drift into a deep sleep.

As consciousness slowly returns not too long after, the first thing you notice is the gentle vibration of your phone on the bedside table. Groggily reaching for it, you see a new message notification from a group chat with Charles and Max.

It’s a photo of Charles and Max, still in their race suits, grinning ear to ear. Charles holds up his first-place trophy while Max proudly displays his second. They’re both covered in champagne, evidence of the post-race celebrations.

These are for you. For our champion.

With shaky fingers, you type back:

My heroes. Thank you for being my strength. So proud of you both. Can’t wait to see you again.

Your mother, noticing your reaction, peers over your shoulder. “Those boys,” she says with a fond smile, “they really adore you.”

You nod, wiping away a tear. “I’m so lucky.”

***

“Hey, sis,” Max’s voice is soft, tinged with a mix of worry and hope as he sits beside you in the pre-op room, “Ready to share a bit more than just DNA?”

You manage a small smile, despite the anxiety. “As long as you don’t start claiming we share driving skills.”

He chuckles, squeezing your hand. “Promise.”

The doctor enters, clipboard in hand. “Both of you understand the procedure, correct? Max, we will be extracting bone marrow from your pelvic bone. It’s a relatively straightforward process but you might feel some discomfort.”

Max nods resolutely. “Anything for her.”

You swallow hard, emotions swirling. “Thank you, Max. This ... it means everything.”

He looks at you, eyes filled with a brotherly love that’s grown exponentially over the past few months. “We’re family. We look out for each other.”

As Max is wheeled away for his extraction, he offers a brave smile. “See you on the other side.”

Hours later, as you sit by his bedside, watching him slowly come around post-procedure, you squeeze his hand. “You okay?”

He groans, “Feels like I’ve done a doubleheader race without any breaks. But it’s worth it.”

Then comes your turn. Max, despite his exhaustion, insists on being present. The stem cells he donated are infused into you through a central line. It’s a simple procedure but one filled with so much hope and emotion.

Max watches closely, gripping your hand. “You got this,” he murmurs as the life-saving cells flow into your body.

You try to show a convincing smile before closing your eyes and praying to whoever’s listening that this works.

***

The pale blue walls of the hospital room have become all too familiar, the rhythmic beep of machines a constant in the background. You’re reclined on the bed, an IV line dripping nutrients and much-needed blood transfusions into your system. As your body adjusts to the new bone marrow, these are crucial.

Max is seated beside you, a crossword puzzle in hand. The chairs aren’t particularly comfortable but he’s still rarely left your side.

Max taps his pen against the paper thoughtfully. “Alright, here’s one for you. Seven letters: someone who is always there, no matter what.”

You raise an eyebrow, pondering. “Is it brother?”

He grins, “You’re getting good at this.”

You chuckle, “Well, I can’t help it when the answer is so obvious …”

He leans in closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I snuck in some of those chocolates you like from that little shop in town.”

Your eyes widen in mock horror. “You rebel. We’ll be banished from the kingdom.”

He winks, producing a small box from his bag. “Worth it.”

As you both indulge in the illicit treat, you realize just how much these little moments, these shared smiles and inside jokes, make the ordeal bearable.

Max notices your contemplative expression. “Hey, what’s on your mind?”

“Just thinking about how lucky I am to have a brother who sneaks chocolates into a hospital for me.”

He extends his pinky towards you, “Always. Until the end of the race.”

You intertwine your own pinky with his to immortalize the promise, “And beyond.”

Just as the two of you are finishing the last of the chocolates, the door swings open quietly. Charles steps in, his eyes immediately seeking you out. There’s a bouquet of fresh flowers in his hand, their vibrant colors standing out against the sterile environment.

“You two conspiring without me?” Charles teases, setting the flowers on the bedside table.

Max smirks, “Just ensuring she gets her daily dose of chocolate, doctor’s orders.”

Charles moves to your side and presses a soft kiss on your forehead. “How are you feeling today?”

“Better now that my two favorite racers are here,” you reply with a smile.

Charles laughs, “I see. Well, the doctor outside told me your blood counts are improving. Seems the new bone marrow is getting to work.”

You nod hopefully. “One day at a time.”

Charles moves closer, taking your free hand. “Every day is a step closer to getting you out of here.”

Max, sensing the intimate moment, stands up, stretching. “I’ll leave you lovebirds to it. Need to grab a coffee and give that crossword another go.”

Charles smiles gratefully at him, and as Max exits the room, you’re left in a bubble of comfort and warmth with your boyfriend.

***

“Grant our daughter strength and good news,” your mother’s prayer weaves through the tense atmosphere of the room.

Charles’ grip on your hand tightens and he whispers, “Whatever the news, we face it together.”

“Guide the hands of the doctors, let their knowledge lead to healing.”

Max, on your other side, offers a comforting squeeze, his face betraying his own anxiety. “You’ve come so far already.”

“And bless our family with your grace and protection.”

The prayer lingers in the air just as the door opens.

“Grant her the strength, the health, the life she deserves ...”

The doctor steps in, a manila envelope in hand. Everyone’s gaze immediately fixes on him, the room heavy with bated breath.

He looks around the room, making eye contact with each one of you, then finally says, “The results are in.”

You feel Charles’ hand tremble slightly … Max’s grip tighten … your father barely breathing behind you … a silent prayer still on your mother’s lips.

“The bone marrow has taken exceptionally well. All indicators and markers are positive.” The doctor smiles. “You’re officially in remission. You’re cured.”

A tidal wave of emotion crashes over the room. Tears immediately spring to your eyes, happiness and relief mingling in each drop.

Your mother’s whispered prayer crescendos into a heartfelt “thank you,” choked with emotion.

Your father, the ever-composed king, has moisture in his eyes as he holds you close, “Our snow angel, our miracle.”

Charles pulls you into a tight embrace next, his voice a shaky whisper, “You did it.”

Max is grinning from ear to ear. “Told you, sis. Until the end of the race and beyond.”

***

“Look at them,” Max says, nudging you as the camera pans over the pit crews, each member prominently sporting a bright red ribbon. “All in solidarity.”

Charles beams, joining the conversation. “It was Max’s idea. The ribbons. Both teams were eager to join in.”

You’re touched, tears threatening to spill. “It’s incredible. Both of you, your teams ... I’m speechless.”

The commentator on the screen picks up on the theme. “For those just tuning in, both the Ferrari and Red Bull teams are wearing red ribbons today in support of aplastic anemia awareness, a personal cause for them given the recent battle of the Princess of Orange with the condition.”

Mid-race, Max’s voice crackles over the team radio, “This one’s for you, sis.”

Charles, not to be outdone, pushes his car to the limit, the red ribbon painted on his helmet clearly visible every time the camera focuses on him.

Later, as you walk back out through the paddock, fans approach, many sporting red ribbons of their own. One young girl looks at you with stars in her eyes, “I wear this for my mom. She’s fighting too, just like you did.”

You pull her into a gentle hug. “She’s got this. I know she does.”

***

As soon as the statement goes live on the official website of the Netherlands Royal Family, the internet erupts.

The Royal House of the Netherlands is pleased to announce that Her Royal Highness, Y/N the Princess of Orange, and Mr. Charles Leclerc are officially courting.

Your phone buzzes incessantly with notifications. Charles, seated beside you, chuckles, “Well, there’s no going back now.”

Your father enters the room, a smile playing on his lips. “The people seem to be taking the news ... enthusiastically.”

Your mother, scrolling through her own device, adds, “And overwhelmingly positively. Listen to this: We’ve seen them together. Their chemistry is undeniable. Wishing them all the best!”

You exhale, a weight lifting off your shoulders. “I was so nervous about the reaction.”

Charles brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, “We’re in this together, remember?”

Max bursts into the room with his usual energy, “You two are trending. The fans are loving it!”

Screens across the nation flash images of you and Charles — at the racetrack, during hospital visits, candid moments captured by keen-eyed photographers. Talk shows and news channels dive deep into analyzing your relationship, piecing together any crumbs of insight they might have.

A popular racing pundit remarks on a live broadcast, “Their bond is evident, both on and off the track. Charles’ performance has been exceptional since they've been together. It’s clear that they draw strength from each other.”

The public’s fascination is insatiable. Magazines are splashed with titles like Love in the Fast Lane. But despite the media frenzy, what touches you most are the personal messages. Fans share artwork, write songs, and pen heartfelt letters, celebrating love and the winding path that brought you both to this moment.

One evening, as you and Charles sit on the palace balcony overlooking the city, he turns to you, “They’re acting like we’re some sort of fairytale.”

You lean into him, “Maybe we are. It’s our story and I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

***

“You know,” your father begins, a playful glint in his eye as he slices into his steak, “I had an amusing conversation with Prince Albert the other day.”

Charles, taking a sip of his wine, raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Your father chuckles, “He said Monaco might need to extend an invitation for our next state visit given that we seem to have shared interests now.”

The table erupts in laughter. Your mother adds, teasingly, “And here I thought we were simply bonding over diplomatic ties.”

“So,” Max leans forward eagerly. “Any embarrassing stories about Y/N? I have to make up for all of the childhood adventures I’ve missed.”

“Oh, there are plenty! Remember the time she tried to drive a lawnmower and ended up in the rose bushes?” Your father says, trying to look serious.

Marianne chuckles, “Don’t remind me! Those were my favorite roses.”

You groan, hiding your face in your hands. “I was eight! And I thought it was a car!”

Charles grins, squeezing your hand under the table. “I can only imagine a mini version of you so determined behind the wheel.”

“And at her sixth birthday party,” your father recounts with a smirk, “she declared that she’d be ruling the kingdom by sundown and tried to hold a mock council meeting with her stuffed toys.”

Charles nudges you playfully, “Planning coups at six? Should I be worried?”

You swat him lightly, “It was a phase.”

As dessert is served, your mother turns contemplative. “You know, I’ve always believed in destiny. And seeing all of you here, witnessing the bonds and the love, it reaffirms that belief.”

Charles nods his agreement, “Life has a way of bringing the right people together.”

Your father raises his glass, “To family, in all its forms. To the journeys we embark on and the memories we create.”

The clinking of glasses has never sounded sweeter.

***

Charles, his face flushed with the victory of the 2025 World Championship, stands on the podium, trophy in hand. The cheering of the crowd is deafening but as he signals for a microphone, a hush descends.

“I’ve never done this before,” he starts emotionally, “naming my car, I mean. I watched Seb do it year after year and I always wondered what that felt like, to have such a connection.” He takes a deep breath, his gaze scanning the audience until it lands on you. “This season, I finally understood. My car, the one that just secured this championship, I named it after the most important person in my life.”

The crowd waits with bated breath.

“I named it,” he continues, his voice breaking slightly as he keeps his eyes locked on yours, “after you. After the woman who has been my anchor, my strength.”

You feel tears prickling your eyes as the sheer intensity of his words hits you.

Charles signals and you’re gently nudged forward, guided up to the podium. The world seems to blur, the noise, the people, everything fading until it’s just you and him.

“Every race, every lap, I had two goals: to win for the team and to make you proud,” he confesses, his eyes never leaving yours. “You are my world. And today, in front of everyone here, in front of the world, I want to ask you one thing.”

He gets down on one knee and your hands move of their own volition to cover your mouth. Producing a gorgeous ring, Charles looks up at you, his eyes shimmering. “Will you marry me?”

The world stops.

The deafening cheers of the crowd seem quiet compared to the beating of your heart.

Tears stream down your face as you nod. “Yes. A thousand times yes.”

No sooner have the words left your mouth than Max and Lando, the other two podium finishers, gleefully seize the moment. With mischievous grins, they uncork their champagne bottles, dousing both you and Charles in a bubbly shower. The liquid gold sparkles in the sunlight, adding to the magic of the moment.

Charles pulls you close, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as you both get soaked.

***

The grand cathedral, bathed in the soft glow of a thousand candles, echoes with the hushed whispers of eagerly waiting guests. Roses, lilies, and orchids cascade down the pillars, their fragrance mingling with the scent of incense.

Behind the doors of the bridal suite, Max stands beside you, dressed impeccably in a classic tux. There’s a brotherly tenderness in his eyes as he reaches out, smoothing the delicate lace of your dress to ensure that every detail is perfect.

“You look breathtaking,” he murmurs, the emotion of the day making his voice waver.

“You clean up pretty well yourself, Man of Honor,” you reply, squeezing his hand.

As the first strains of the bridal march begin, the doors open, revealing the grand aisle, lined with well-wishers from all corners of the globe. Your father steps up and offers you his arm, his eyes glassy with pride and a hint of melancholy. “Ready, my snow angel?”

You nod, tears of happiness already blurring your vision. The world narrows down to the altar, where Charles stands, back straight in his crisp full dress uniform. As you make your way down the aisle, your eyes lock with his and the universe contracts to that singular point of connection.

Charles’ normally composed features give way as he takes in the sight of you. His eyes, also glistening with tears, convey a depth of feeling that words could never capture. Love, gratitude, wonder — all interwoven in that magnetic gaze.

His voice breaks as he whispers just for you, “You are my dream, my reality, my forever.”

Your own voice is thick with emotion, “And you are my heart, my soul, my love.”

As vows are exchanged and promises made, the world bears witness to a love that defied odds, overcame challenges, and brought together not just two souls but two worlds.

And as you both seal your commitment with a kiss, there is not a single dry eye in the cathedral. Because love, true love, is a force to be reckoned with, and today, it reigns supreme.

***

The soft whimpers of a newborn fill the air of the private birthing suite. Nestled in your arms, wrapped in a royal blue blanket, the baby prince stirs, his tiny fingers curling around one of yours.

Charles, sitting beside you, gazes down at your son with sheer wonder. “He’s perfect,” he says in a teary whisper.

You nod, tears streaming down your face. “Our little miracle.” The journey, the IVF treatments with your frozen eggs , the hope, the fear — everything culminated in this singular, beautiful moment.

The door opens gently, revealing Max, his eyes wide as they take in the sight before him, and your parents, their faces a canvas of joy and pride.

Max approaches tentatively, his usual confidence replaced by an awe-inspired reverence. “May I?” He asks softly.

You nod, handing over the precious bundle. As Max holds the baby, a bond forms instantly. “Hey there, little one,” he coos, “Your godfather is here.”

Your mother, tears in her eyes, leans in, planting a gentle kiss on your son’s forehead. “Welcome to the world, our precious grandchild.”

Your father, hoarse with emotion, simply murmurs, “An angel for our snow angel.”

And you know what? You decide that the fans were right. Your life really is a fairytale.

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flowerandblood · 2 months

Text

Object of Delight (3/3)

[ dark • Aemond x Arryn • widow female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, fingering, smut, angst, domination, swearing, postpartum depression ]

[ description: Aemond is forced to marry a widow from House Arryn as part of the alliance and support of his brother in the war against the Black faction. Despite his initial reluctance, a bond develops between him and his wife that he cannot understand or comprehend. In this chapter I combine several requests into one. The female character has a specific eye and hair color. ]

Part 1 − Object of Desire Part 2 − Object of Despair Epilogue

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

The frequency and fervour with which he fucked his wife caused it to be less than three moons before the measter brought him the joyful news during one of his sparring sessions with Ser Criston, informing him that she was expecting his child.

He explained that he had been summoned by one of her servants when she suddenly fainted, and as it turned out, the cause of her indisposition was his inheritance in her womb.

He couldn't help the smirk of satisfaction and the amused look he threw Cole, for here it appeared that, in fact, her deceased husband had simply failed to perform his duty well − his seed was weak and his lineage would be forgotten.

Although he was buzzing with curiosity and desire to see her now, to take her in this blessed state, he decided not to show his weakness and make it to the end of his training following his daily routine, heading to her chamber immediately after taking a quick bath.

His long white hair was still a little damp when he crossed the threshold of her quarters − the door closed quietly behind him, and he looked at her sleeping figure lying on her bed, covered in thick furs. He hummed, walking slowly closer, recognising that she had made the right decision to rest − in her current state she needed to look out for herself more than before.

He stood over her in silence for a moment, fighting the burning desire to touch her face, to take an unruly strand from her cheek, but hesitated.

He only made gestures that someone might call affectionate after their intense closeness, when she slept snuggled against his naked chest, her hand on which she wore a golden ring in the shape of a sun with a sapphire eye, his gift to her, proof that she was capable of pleasing him both in and out of bed, rested on his heart.

He stroked her soft, smooth hair then, her bare shoulder, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, musing. The fact that she spent the nights with him became natural to them − he did not summon her and she did not wait for his permission, following him to his quarters immediately after supper. They didn't speak much, didn't confide their secrets to each other, instead getting to know each other's bodies intimately.

They were able to lie on their sides in the dark for hours satisfying and teasing each other with their mouths without giving each other fulfilment. He enjoyed watching out of the corner of his eye, trailing his lips over her hot, leaking womanhood as his wife sucked unhurriedly on his cock, licking and teasing it with her pink tongue, her caresses gentle and tender, making his fingers involuntarily clench tighter on the naked skin of her hips right next to his face.

There was something liberating to him in the fact that she did not require him to make confessions or sacrifice his regular daily life; although it had always seemed to him that a wife was merely an extension of her husband and his shadow, she preferred to remain a separate entity and he chose not to overuse the power he had over her, not finding it necessary.

He shuddered, snapped out of his reverie when her eyes opened lazily − she smiled barely visible, softly, perhaps even warmly at the sight of him.

"Are you trying to scare me?" She muttered, turning only to sink deeper into the soft bedding, looking at him calmly, her eyes bright, her face smooth, without a trace of a grimace.

He snorted, amused, turning his head away for a moment only to look at her again, sighing heavily − even though he tried to keep a grave face he knew she had noticed his contentment with the news that had reached him.

"I have been informed that you are carrying my son in your womb." He hummed low, deeply − she blinked, smiling wider.

"I don't know if it will be a son." She replied softly, and he hummed again; she shifted back as he walked closer to her bed and lay on his side, his face turned towards her, laying his head on the pillow right next to hers. They looked at each other for a moment in silence, feeling that although neither of them used words, this was a day of their shared joy, for here was the fruit of their efforts.

He raised his large hand at the thought, unable to contain himself − his fingers took a strand of her black hair and flicked it over her back with a light gesture. She smiled wider, knowing that he couldn't stand it when something covered her face.

Her eyes.

Taking advantage of the fact that he had already touched her, he involuntarily ran his thumb over her soft, plump cheek. He saw that she had closed her eyes, sighing quietly, his gaze focused on her long, dark lashes. His fingers tightened around her neck, drawing her to him and she purred loudly as his swollen lips pressed against hers in a wet, loud, hot kiss.

He pulled away from her with a quiet click, but her lips ran invitingly over his, telling him that she craved more, so he sank into their fleshy texture again, slipping the tip of his tongue between them, a sweet, innocent moan came from her throat causing his cock to throb impatiently in his breeches.

He took her more gently than usual, rocking his hips lazily deep inside her, each time the tip of his swollen manhood rubbing the spot between her muscles, from which a shiver of pleasure ran through her whole body, her fingers tightening on his muscular shoulders, her body beginning to meet his, wordlessly letting him know that he could accelerate his pace.

Her short, slender fingernails dug into the bare skin of his firm buttocks as he began to thrust into her more aggressively, wanting him to do it even harder − he stroked her cheek as she began to babble, asking, begging him to give her what she needed.

"− we need to be more careful now because of the baby − I know, I know you need it, shhh −" He hushed her, closing her mouth with his own, his hands gripped her thighs, with sure, deep thrusts pounding into her at an angle that he knew gave her the greatest pleasure − she arched her back with a sweet moan as his thumb began to tease her bud with circular, intense strokes, her walls began to squeeze him, soaking him all over in her moisture.

"− Aemond −" She mumbled pleadingly, in the way he adored most − he looked down at her panting loudly, resting his free hand on the bed frame in front of him, thrusting into her again and again with the sticky splat of his thighs against her buttocks, his cock throbbing hard, demanding fulfilment.

"− I know − I'll lick you good tonight and slap those buttocks a little − sounds good, hm? −" He gasped, looking at her with affection from which he felt a squeeze in his throat. She nodded her head quickly and cried out − he felt her muscles clench at the very thought, sucking him inside, her cheeks red from exertion and desire, her swollen, full lips parted wide, her hands trailing over his hot flesh.

"− yes − please − fuck me good − o-oh gods −" She mewled sweetly as her body shook with eager, overpowering fulfilment − she tilted her head back, writhing beneath him, her weeping cunt began to clench on him greedily, intensifying his pleasure.

"− good girl −" He exhaled wearily as with a few desperate, sloppy thrusts he came inside her with a loud sigh of relief, looking at her in disbelief.

The woman who had given him what he craved.

"− you did so well for me −" He whispered, leaning over her, being careful not to crush her with his body, sinking his nose into her soft cheek. She wrapped her hands around his waist, stroking his back, making a shiver run along his spine every time her fingers brushed over his hot, sweaty skin.

She knew there was a deeper meaning to what he said and that it didn't just refer to their intense closeness.

Her abdomen swelling from his inheritance was his reason for being proud − his hand lay on it and stroked it involuntarily during the evenings or mornings she spent in his company.

As she lay naked beside him at night, sweaty and welted from what he had done to her, her cunt all puffy and sore from the caresses of his tongue, he hugged his face to her womb, smiling involuntarily when he sometimes managed to feel the movement of the little dragon that was growing inside her.

Despite the maester's recommendation that they should not cohabit with each other when she was in such advanced pregnancy and their strenuous attempts to confine themselves to the use of their mouths alone, as she lay beside him, cuddled with her back to his chest, his manhood swelled involuntarily, slapping against her buttocks.

She would then spread her thighs invitingly, teasing him with the strokes of her hips, tilting her head back, whispering how wet she was, and he, impatiently lifted her higher, forcing the fat head of his cock with their sigh of relief into her tight, throbbing opening, and although they knew they should do it slowly, they fucked each other rough.

"− can't you last a few fucking days without my cock? − isn't it enough that you came on my face tonight? −" He exhaled, listening as his thighs slapped fast against her buttocks with loud smacks, his manhood thrusting into her with ease, her insides slick with her juices, his fingers between her thighs, their tips playing with her clit, not letting her escape.

"− I came having your cock deep inside my mouth − have you forgotten already? −" She gasped and he groaned low at the thought, quickening his pace, clamping his hand around her neck so as not to make it difficult for her to breathe and accidentally hurt the baby − he hid his face in her hair, feeling that he was embarrassingly close to another fulfilment.

"− no − that's not something you can forget − fuck −" He muttered, feeling her sticky walls begin to suck him inside in orgasm, her moisture spilling over his thighs, her moans making him let go, letting his hot seed spill inside her.

"− gods, so good − I can't stop −" He mumbled, and she sighed heavily, moving with him for a moment longer, stroking his arm that embraced her swollen abdomen.

"− me too −"

On the day of the delivery he was restless, pacing around his chamber, full of tension, unable to sit still. She felt the first contractions in the morning and collapsed as her servants helped her dress, whimpering, terrified that it had begun.

He consoled himself with the thought that her mother, the Queen and his sister were with her, that she was not alone, but he could not stop thinking about Aemma, her grandfather's sister and his father's first wife, how she had died and that, although he tried to push the vision away, the birth could prove complicated.

He swallowed hard, running his hand over his face, unwittingly seeing in his mind her pale, lifeless body, her empty violet eyes, her cheeks drenched in tears, her nightgown soaked in blood at the height of her thighs.

He groaned lowly, trying to calm down, repeating to himself that this would not happen, that she was not Aemma and he was not his father.

Hours passed, however, and he still hadn't received any news of her condition − he felt like he was dying inside, for some reason he wanted to weep with despair.

He saw himself with his hands placed deep in the fire of his fireplace, holding his dragon egg, clenching his lips in pain, begging the gods for it to crack.

He shuddered, snapped out of his reverie, rising to his feet as the maester stepped inside his chamber, his attention immediately drawn to the fact that his hands were all dirty in blood.

"Your Grace. You have a son." He said in a trembling voice, and he looked at him dully, as if he did not understand what he had said.

"What about my wife?"

He moved immediately to her chamber when he learned that she had endured the birth very badly, that there was no contact with her, that she had a fever.

That she might not survive.

He didn't even look at the wailing child in his Queen's arms − he walked immediately to the bed where her mother was sobbing, stroking her hands.

She looked exactly as in his vision, pale, her gaze blank, directed somewhere far away, her chemise all red with blood − if it weren't for the fact that her breast was rising and falling in shallow breaths he would have thought she was dead.

"− Your Grace, you shouldn't −" He heard the voice of one of the ladies of the court, but he just stood there looking at her with his lips pressed together, feeling a squeeze in his throat and chest so strong that he had the impression that his whole body had begun to tremble.

He involuntarily moved towards her, climbing onto the bed, leaning on his knees, his trembling hand touched her hot, sweaty cheek, all wet with tears.

"− my love − my love, speak to me −" He whispered, but she didn't even look at him − she only twitched, one last, lonely tear flowed from the corner of her eye.

Something about the sight broke him − he pressed his forehead to her temple, panting hard, her wonderful scent filling his lungs again.

"− don't leave me − don't leave me alone in this world −"

He didn't know if his words had reached her, her fever intensified by the night he had spent by her side with her mother. He sat in a chair watching as she washed her face, already dressed in a clean, snow-white undershirt, covered by thick layers of furs, her body quivering all over, sunk in a deep, restless sleep.

"− I thought the worst was behind her − after that bastard −" She began, but pressed her lips together, as if unable to get it out of her − he looked at her anxiously, feeling his whole body tense up.

She had never told him about her first husband.

Nor had he ever asked about it, not even wanting to recall that another man had had her before him.

"− was he not a good husband? −" He asked impassively − Lady Arryn looked up at him with big eyes, her eyebrows arched in despair and anger at the same time.

Her hair were as dark as his wife's, but her irises were golden and bright, shining in the candlelight around them.

She swallowed loudly, her chin trembling all over, as if she couldn't get it out of her.

"− I − I didn't find out until a year later − that when it turned out she was bleeding, that she wasn't carrying his child − every month he made her sleep in godswood, in just her nightgown − h-he said − gods, he said that until she gave him an heir, she was like his sword, his book, or his horse − her servants took pity on her and when he fell asleep, they would take her to their chambers beneath the stronghold −" She muttered, tears of grief and bitterness running down her face. He looked at her dully, feeling as if he was about to vomit, his stomach painfully clenched − he ran his trembling hand over his face, hearing her words during their wedding night inside his head.

A wife is a gift. Like a sword, a book or a horse.

He closed his eyes, swallowing hard, feeling a burning wetness under his eyelids that he did not let flow.

Her silhouette lying under the weirwood tree, then, as he followed her.

He thought she stopped visiting this place when it became apparent that she was expecting his child because walking such long distances began to be difficult for her.

"− my husband did the right thing − he deserved it −" She exclaimed, and he didn't speak again, knowing what she meant.

He only breathed a sigh of relief the next day when her fever had diminished and she was still breathing. She would wake up and only babble, her mother would feed her and help her dress, and he would just be beside her, overseeing everything, wanting to make sure nothing escaped his attention.

He knew that his son was in the care of his mother and sister.

As she began to regain consciousness, it was decided to introduce their son to her − one of the wet nurses, a plump woman with a wide smile brought in her arms an infant with his white hair and her mother's golden eyes. He smiled involuntarily at the sight, hoping that the appearance of her child would give her strength.

"Look, my Lady. It's your little boy. Would you like to feed him?" The woman asked softly, but his wife merely looked away, tense, staring out of the window, her fingers clenched on the thick fur that covered her. He pressed his lips together at the sight, feeling that something was happening deep inside her, that something had taken place during the birth that had broken her.

She did not want to look at the baby, touch it or feed it − she only expressed in a weak voice her satisfaction that their child was healthy.

Her mother tried to persuade her to at least take her son in her arms, that she would then immediately feel maternal love and attachment, but she shook her head quickly, tears running down her face as if she didn't even want to imagine it.

"− Your Grace, I'm afraid a heavy birth has caused your wife to lose her senses, she is rejecting her own child − I believe that at this point she is dangerous to Your Highness' son and should be left alone for a while to calm down −" The maester told him as he left her chamber to change and refresh himself, his lips tightened into a thin line at his words.

"− weigh your words − my wife is suffering, and you are to find the cause of it −" He hissed, furious, the man swallowed hard and nodded, not speaking again.

When he returned to her quarters, he noticed to his surprise that her bed was empty, her mother asleep in her chair, tired, no one else around.

He went outside in a panic, wondering where she could have gone, heading towards the godswood, however, he froze in a half-step walking down the corridor when he noticed that the door to the chamber his son slept in was ajar.

He walked slowly inside and stopped, noticing her silhouette sitting next to the cradle, looking blankly at the sleeping infant, her face indifferent and expressionless. She lifted her gaze to him at last, as if snapped out of her reverie, her eyebrows arched in pain, her fingers clenched on the fabric of her nightgown.

"What's going to happen to me now?" She muttered in a trembling voice and he shook his head, not understanding what she was asking.

"I do not follow." He replied; she lowered her gaze, her lower lip quivered, tears ran down her cheeks − she seemed to have fallen into some kind of state of panic.

"Now that I've given you a son. What are you going to do with me? Will you pretend I don't exist? Will you find yourself a lover?"

He stared at her stunned, feeling the quick pounding of his heart and the squeeze in his throat, horrified at the direction her thoughts were taking.

"Where did those words come from?" He asked in disbelief, feeling that he was struggling to breathe, his hands clenched into fists.

She hid her face in her hands, shaking her head, bursting into a loud sobs as if something inside her had cracked.

"I can't. I can't, I can't, I can't." She squirmed, drawing in air loudly − he moved towards her, kneeling in front of her, pressing her face to his chest.

"Calm down. Please." He whispered, her fingers clenching tightly on the material of his green tunic in a helpless gesture of despair.

"I am worn out. I'm a worn-out, empty vessel. There's nothing more I can give you." She whimpered, and he clamped his eyelids shut, pulling her close. Her body fell to the ground right beside him, and he wrapped his arms around her tightly, cuddling her into himself like a small child, stroking her soft dark hair reassuringly.

"You are my wife. I will never betray you or our family. We can wait with begetting another child until you are ready. After all, we have our ways of doing that, don't we?" He asked in a soft, trembling voice, trying to comfort her, to let her understand that nothing was over, but on the contrary, in his eyes, it had only just begun.

"I've been contemplating for some time that I should take you in front of that guard who looks at you so shamelessly when you're wearing gowns of thinner material. When your breasts are visible through it. That would give him something to think about, hm? And the most important thing. Vhagar. The mother of my child must know what it means to ride a dragon." He hummed into her ear, playing with strands of her hair, feeling her shiver at his words, that she was returning to him, her body no longer trembling, her breathing calming.

"I thought I'd already ridden the world's greatest dragon." She whispered, and he involuntarily smirked and snorted, kissing her hair.

"Not like this."

They stayed like that for a while in each other's embrace, sitting on the floor, stroking each other's cheeks, shoulders and hair, for the first time so close, so tender, so sincere. They shuddered when they heard sobbing and whimpering coming from the cradle − they both rose and he turned his head, calling the guard, telling them to bring a nursemaid.

"No." She said softly, coming closer, leaning over the cradle, taking their son into her arms. She embraced him and began rocking him, shushing him reassuringly as she looked at his face.

"− hello, little one − I know − it's not your fault −" She muttered with difficulty, tears in her eyes − he looked at this sight with a squeezed throat and swallowed heavily.

"− come here − are you hungry? −" She asked, sitting down on the window sill, slipping the material of her nightgown off her shoulder, exposing her breast, all swollen, full of milk − he felt his manhood throb involuntarily in his breeches at this sight.

She breathed a quiet sigh of relief as their son, nestled against her breast, found her nipple and, in a natural, subconscious instinct, began to suck on it greedily, clamping his small hand over her skin.

She looked at their child with curiosity and some kind of warmth that moved him.

He approached her, leaning over her, kissing the top of her head, sinking his nose into her soft hair, looking out of the corner of his eye at this almost mythological sight of a woman feeding her offspring.

"− what did you name our son? −" She asked quietly, and he felt hot in his chest hearing her use the word our.

"− I waited with this decision for you − you are his mother −" He replied softly, taking an unruly strand of her hair from her face. She mused, looking at the infant suckled to her breast and smiled softly.

"− Jaehaerys −" She whispered, and he hummed under his breath, delighted that they had thought of the same thing.

Of their common ancestor.

"− so Jaehaerys it will be −"

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nomadwrites · 3 months

Text

bubblegum pink ⋆˚✿

gojo satoru

summary ⋆୨୧⋆ in which you've managed to convince the greatest jujutsu sorcerer of your time into getting pink highlights. what could go wrong? a lot, you learn.

contents ⋆୨୧⋆ spoilers!, pure fluff & rusty writing

notes ⋆୨୧⋆ let's start off easy, shall we? feedback is most certainly welcome & would be much appreciated! enjoy ₊˚ෆ

"come on, it's only temporary!"

"not a chance! do you know how much time and effort i put into caring for these lustrous locks?"

"it'll grow out anyways," you huff, setting down the contents of the hair dye kit on the bathroom counter. "and here i thought you were the adventurous type."

"adventure is one thing, but this? this would be an act of vandalism," satoru feigns a look of betrayal, silver lashes framing his wide blue orbs, "like defacing the mona lisa."

you gasp in exaggeration, clasping a hand over your mouth. if there was one thing on the boy’s long list of things he loved about you, it'd be your ability to keep up with his personality.

"sure. but don't you get tired of always having the same old hairstyle? maybe it'd be nice to switch it up every now and then, yknow?"

"i hardly doubt anyone could ever get tired of this." he gestures to himself, standing tall, a smirk gracing his features.

“you’re insufferable.”

“and you love that about me.”

you do your best to hide the smile that threatens to break free, chewing on your bottom lip. “oh but you’d look absolutely gorgeous,” you plead, voice dripping with honey as you cross your arms over your chest, leaning against the countertop. you bat your lashes at him, round doe eyes peering into sparkling azure pools.

the look you give him makes his heart do flips and his gaze softens ever so slightly. he can't say no to you, not when you're gazing up at him with those puppy-dog eyes of yours. you’re perfectly aware of the effect you have on him, but that’s not to say you’d ever take advantage of him. if anything, you’re just as smitten.

satoru adores gratifying you, answering to your every beck and call, no matter the request, even if they can be a little odd at times. who was he to deny you anything when you looked so entrancing?

he pretends to ponder, drumming his fingers along the cool ceramic of the sink counter. if you're quiet enough, you might hear the way the gears in his head shift as he puts on a show of overtly dramatised deliberation. it almost makes you snort, but after a minute or two of silence, he caves in, shoulders slumping.

"if it makes you happy," he breathes, flicking his gaze back to you as you perk up with excitement, light practically radiating off of you. he might come to regret this in a few hours, but when he sees the way your eyes sparkle with a radiance that seems so pure, he thinks it won’t be so bad. after all, it is only temporary.

"just so i get to hear it again," he pauses, slender fingers intertwining with yours as he guides you over to him and plops down onto the closed seat of the toilet, long legs splayed on either side of you. "you think i'm gorgeous?"

“not quite yet,” you say, running your fingers through his silver locks, admiring the soft lavender undertones. his glasses are sitting just above the tip of his nose, brilliant sapphire depths on full display. no matter how many times you’ve looked him in the eye,, it always manages to knock the air out of your lungs. “i’ll see what i can do.”

“aren’t you a sweetheart?”

“i am.”

he exhales, humming in agreement as he relaxes under your touch and relishes in the scent of your skin, not the fragrance of perfume or shampoo, but you.

this is nice, you think. free time has always been hard to come by, even more so for gojo than you. things had changed after the star plasma vessel incident. he had changed, and although he did his best to hide it, you knew better. you were there to ground him, to remind him of his humanity and his purpose for becoming a sorcerer. you were there to keep him afloat.

"so!" you clap, startling him enough to knock his glasses askew, "let's get started!"

"booo," he pouts, like some child. he likes to think you're like this because of him, that you've spent so much time with him you've essentially become a miniature satoru gojo. the thought of it makes him feel all warm and mushy inside, something he really only feels with you, despite how popular he is with people.

you get to work, skimming through the pamphlet of instructions. satoru attempts to help you, mostly by staring whilst seated on the toilet, questioning if you really knew what you were doing. you stick out your tongue at him as did he, tugging on his lower eyelid.

you manage to end up with a bowl of bright pink sludge, the scent of chemicals wafting through the enclosed space of your bathroom. satoru grimaces, both at the smell and how awfully pigmented the dye seemed, cautiously eyeing the mixture held between your gloved hands.

“no turning back now.”

“you’re sure this is temporary?”

“mhmm!” you say, throwing a towel over his shoulders to shield his black linen shirt from any stray drops of hair dye. contrary to popular belief, the all-powerful jujutsu sorcerer doesn’t make use of his infinity when there was no real need to, his reasoning something akin to him wanting to experience moments of normalcy with those close to him.

“i’m great aren’t i? strong, handsome with a heart of gold,” he’d said, standing in akimbo.

“in an alternate universe, sure.”

you smile at the memory, recalling the way he tutted when you responded, earning chuckles from both shoko and geto.

“y’know on second thought–” satoru’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, “maybe blue would be a better option? make my eyes pop and all that,” he stalls, turning to look at you.

“it’s not gonna be this bright toru, it’ll be a lot lighter once we rinse you off. besides, i’ve only got pink right now–“

“great! so we should–“

“but you already said we could–“

and you’re both tugging, trying to grab ahold of the bowl. “toru stop it! you’re gonna–“

splat.

"ah," he blinks.

silence falls between the both of you, letting the sound of droplets hitting the floor echo loud in your ears. you’re wide eyed in disbelief, and it takes you a moment before you press your lips together in a futile attempt to conceal the snort that bubbles from your throat.

———————-

“don’t you look pretty?” geto teases, snapping a photo of satoru’s lifeless body as he sits limp at his desk, looking as if his soul had left his body. you’re sure it did last night after rinsing him off in the shower, fully clothed, the sight of him drenched in fuchsia finding a permanent home in your brain. shoko echoes after the raven-haired boy, resting her head on a closed fist.

satoru’s once moonlit hair now a splotchy mess of soft pink, the hair dye staining his eyebrows an even brighter shade of bubblegum. you had to practically drag him out the bathroom by the feet afterward.

“what have you done?” he whined, voice breaking.

“me?!” you gasped, “you had a part to play in this too!”

it was a miracle he’d even changed out of his wet clothes, albeit it taking around an hour or so. you’re sure he laid on the floor for the rest of the night after you’d left, geto being the first to find him in the exact same position this morning. thankfully, you hadn’t had to drag him to class.

at the very least, this would be another fond memory you’d share together.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #nomadwrites

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shotosjupiter · 2 months

Text

I BLINKED AND SUDDENLY I HAD A VALENTINE!

𖤐 sypnosis... you ask them to be your valentine <3

࣪𖤐 note... super fluffy! and al haitham being a little shit

𖤐 ft. tighnari, al-haitham, ningguang, kazuha, and ayato

𖤐 TIGHNARI blinks at you as you stood in front of him, holding out pink and orange tulips. you had researched them, of course, ensuring they represented love. he cocks his head to the side, as you exclaim, a broad grin stretching on your face, “be my valentine, nari?”

he nods slowly, but surely. despite his quieter reaction, you can tell from the subtle twitching of his ear and the slow pink blush creeping up to his cheeks that he’s pleased. tighnari clears his throat and offers you a bouquet that was tucked behind him, waiting for your arrival. he grasps your hand, gently but clearly asking, “and would you be mine?”

“yes! yes, i would love to be, nari.” you lean forward and press a kiss to his (turning) red cheeks.

𖤐 AL-HAITHAM raises an eyebrow at you. “i thought we were already each other’s valentines.” it sounds more like a statement than a question.

you make a face back at him, “no dummy, you have to ask. that’s how valentines work! what if i already had a valentine?”

“… but you don’t.” he responds, deadpanned.

you gape at him and his pure audacity. “i could! i could- i could be going on a valentines date with that guy right over there!” you gesture towards the general area of microbiology shelves where there’s a few scruffy students, busying themselves.

al-haitham glances back at the scholars, and turns back to you. he huffs out a sigh and turns back to his book, annotating something in the side pages as if this conversation wasn’t something he could be bothered with.

then, a note with a doodle of the two of you and a question: will you be my valentine? check one: yes or yes.

you grin, scrambling to write an answer back.

𖤐 NINGGUANG has already planned everything out since new years. she takes valentines seriously and is not to be played around with in such matters. she had committed your work schedule to memory and had taken the day off to dedicate herself to this mission.

she left a trail of rose petals going from your hallway all way to your shared bedroom. there laid the same petals, shaped into a heart. she had cooked your favorite meal, with the dining table set with even more flowers and your favorite drink. lastly, was a small gift of matching charm bracelets that laid upon the table, waiting for your arrival.

when you had arrived, you had rushed to her side after seeing all the decorations and effort put into this. you cupped her face into a searing kiss and then left a series of kisses all over face. ningguang giggled, pleased to see your happy reaction to her proposal. you grinned at her shyly and offered her her own set of flowers and a small cor lapis necklace you had gotten specifically made for her, asking if she would also do the honor of being your valentine. (spoiler: she said yes.)

𖤐 KAZUHA was a man who had to face a hard decision. which poem should he present you with to ask to be your valentine? there were simply too many choices, too many words, and yet, still nothing had the correct wording he had wanted. what was he to do?

it was one of the few days before valentine’s day where he was sitting by his desk, pushing his brain to find the perfect words to present you, when you came and sat right next to him. you grinned at him slyly, “i have something to show you,” and slid a decorated piece of paper towards him.

it was a poem. a beautiful poem asking him to be your valentine. kazuha looked up at you and smiled with laughter and gentleness in his eyes. “you had beat me to it - but yes. i would love to be your valentine, dove.”

𖤐 AYATO is similar to ningguang in which he had a plan prepared in the back of his head for a couple of weeks now. he had bought a necklace with the charm in the center being a sapphire surrounded by silver. the problem was trying to figure out when to present it to you and ask.

luckily, you managed to unknowingly offer him a solution when you asked him if he would like to take a walk with you around the estate. he nodded calmly, while internally his heart soared at the opportunity. the jewelry box was sat in his pocket always, waiting for the opportunity. now he just had to speak the words.

as the two of you walked, the sakura bloom petals billowing around you, creating an evermore romantic environment. you were chattering about the latest house gossip thoma had told you when ayato stopped and grasped your hand and turned you around pulling you into the net of his arms.

he stared at you for a moment as you fixed him with a questioning gaze in response to his behavior. he cleared his throat and showed you the sapphire necklace he had gotten before gesturing, “may i?”

you nodded and turned as you felt his cold hands delicately clasp the necklace on. the brush of his hands elicited goosebumps to raise by your neck before you heard the raspy whisper, “would you- will you be valentine, darling?”

you turned, a pleased smile on your face before leaning into kiss him slowly. you cupped his face gently, letting his soft lips come together with yours. you broke away from him for a split second to whisper back, “of course i will.”

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remuslovebot · 3 months

Note

IVE ONLY READ A COUPLE OF UR FICS AND IM ALREADY INLOVE WITH UUUU

I was wondering if you do any x plus size reader, if not ignore this but if u do..

I was wondering if you could do a Felix Catton x plus size reader smut where she's not necessarily insecure but still doubts herself when Felix tells her she looks good in things that show off her body a bit more and then maybe some not necessarily rough (but a bit rough) but sensual smut where he like kisses her body without saying anything and like gets on his knees to like ig 'worship' the reader

<333333

yes! I would LOVE to do felix x plus size!reader, as I myself am a plus size girly.

thank you so much for this request. I will do more fics with plus size!reader

I hope you enjoy xx

☙☙☙☙

pairing: felix catton x plus size! reader

warnings: smut! minors dni 💋, body insecurity, tooth rotting fluff, felix being a lover boi, angst to fluff if you squint, oral fem! receiving.

“Felix,” you giggled, pulling away from his grasp. His hands were on your thighs, the plush skin comforting Felix.

He pouted in response, reaching out for you. “No, I want to hold you,” Felix said, giving you his iconic puppy dog look.

You couldn’t say no that face, so you let him wrap his body around you. Your head tucked into his chest, as his arms wrapped around your waist.

“I do have to go soon. I need to change my clothes for dinner,” you said, after a few moments.

Felix knew dinner was soon and his mother had ridiculous standards of dressing up for the last meal of the day. “I don’t want to let you go,” Felix said softly.

“Well you might have to. My dress will take forever to get into,” you rolled you eyes playfully.

“Will it be easy to take off?” Felix smirked, looking down at you as you pulled away from his warm and comfortable embrace.

“Felix,” you blushed a bright shade of pink. You stood up and wrapped your arms around your waist. Felix smiled up at you with a look of praise.

The last rays of sunshine hit your face and to Felix you looked like an angel. “You’re beautiful, you know that right?” He said, reaching out for your hands and moving them to your side.

You only nodded slightly. Sometimes you didn’t feel beautiful. And you didn’t fully understand what Felix saw in you. Every girl at Oxford and he chose you…it didn’t make any sense in your brain.

But Felix only wanted you. He loved you and the way your school clothes fit around your body. Felix loved your thighs and how they fit around his large hands. At night, you were warm against his chest, while he held you close to him.

“I have to go change, Felix,” you said, walking out of this room and down the hallway to yours.

☙☙☙☙

After changing into your dress, you walked down the stairs to the dinner table. Felix was already at the dinner table, talking with Venetia.

When you stepped into the room all eyes turned to you. Felix’s heart stopped, you were breathtakingly beautiful. Your sapphire dress hugged your curves in all the right places. Your hair was shiny and out of your face. Felix noted that your eyes looked like a doe’s. Innocent and beautiful, full of hope and life.

You took your seat across the table from Felix and the dinner commenced.

Dinner was pretty normal, there was gossip from poor dear Pamela and Elsbeth. Farleigh and Oliver bickered like an old married couple, Venetia drank a bottle of wine, and you and Felix couldn’t keep your eyes off one another.

After dinner you slipped into your room. Infront of your mirror you began to take off the dress from dinner, pawing at the zipper in the back.

You couldn’t quite reach it and you groaned in frustration. You’d left the bathroom door slightly open and Felix, hearing your groan and was curious, knocked on the door.

“Everything alight, love,” Felix asked, walking up behind you.

“I can’t get the zipper,” you blushed.

“May I?” He asked, reaching for your back.

You nodded, “please,” you smiled softly.

Felix moved a hand to the zipper and unzipped your gown. The zipper went along your curves and Felix’s breath caught in his throat.

With the zipper undone, you shrugged off the dress. Felix was still behind you, both of you looking at your form in the mirror. “Y/n, you’re gorgeous,” Felix said softly.

You looked at him through the reflection in the glass. “Why me Felix?” You asked. Felix’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Why you, what?” He asked.

“Out of all the beautiful — skinny — girls you could have chosen. Why did you chose me?” You asked.

Felix’s arms wrapped protectively around your waist. His head went to the crook of your neck and you made eye contact in the mirror.

“I love your body. I love how you show it off for me. You fit so perfectly against me, within me,” he whispered in your ear.

You leaned into him and Felix kissed your neck. “I chose you because I want you,” he said simply.

He turned you around to face him, hands still on your waist. You looked up at him softly. “Thank you Felix, you have no idea what your reassurance means,” you said.

Felix nodded and leaned into kiss you softly. Then when he pulled say he said, “Let me worship you.”

You nodded and Felix trailed a hand down your waist and to your panty line. He hooked a finger into the fabric and pulled your panties down to the floor.

Felix trailed kisses from your neck, down to your stomach and then to you hip. He then got on down on his knees, reaching your center.

His hands went up your thighs, one hand moving in between your folds. “So wet for me already,” Felix praised.

You stifled a moan and looked down at Felix on his knees for you. It was a lovely sight. He moved a finger to your clit, rubbing tiny circles. He looked up at your face, it was full of pleasure. Felix felt himself harden.

Removing his finger, he replaced it with his lips. His lips connected with your clit and you let out a moan. Felix sucked and kissed at your bud, worshiping you and the ground you walked on.

As he continued to eat you out, a knot in your stomach formed. Felix licked and sucked like a mad man, starving. Your moans and whimpers only spurring him on. Your legs grew weak, even in Felix’s hold.

His hands were wrapped around your thighs tightly.

“That’s my good girl,” Felix moaned in between kisses, the vibrations hitting your pussy. You shuddered and knew you were close to your release.

“Felix, I’m close,” you moaned. Felix continued his motions. “Cum for me darling, be my good girl,” he said.

You came into his mouth, riding his face as your rode out your high. “Felix,” you moaned, your hand moving to his head. Your ran your fingers through his hair.

Felix licked up the mess and got up from his spot on the floor. He smiled at you, proud of himself for making you feel so good.

“There’s more where that came from I promise,” Felix said. You blushed in return. “You’re perfect for me dove. If you ever need reminding, just tell me. I’m yours,” Felix said softly, cupping your chin and leaning down to kiss you.

#felix catton x reader #felix catton x reader smut #felix catton x reader fluff #jacob elordi smut #jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi #felix catton saltburn #felix catton x plus size! reader #felix catton x fem! reader #felix catton x you #felix catton x y/n #felix catton fluff #felix catton smut #felix catton

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aemonds-sapphire · 1 year

Text

Dragons

Summary: Aemond had once doubted his ability to be a good parent, but, as far as you and your daughter are concerned, he excels at it.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: Pure fluff. Dad Aemond. Cavity inducing fluff

Word count: 800

The moment you opened the door to your bedchamber, something firm collided against your legs.

Or rather… someone.

You looked down to gaze at your daughter clinging onto you, silver hair all messy and left eye covered.

The black eyepatch resembling the one who belonged to…

“Aemond?”

But your daughter had an unlimited supply of vivacity within her, and had her arms so tightly wrapped around you, you simply couldn’t move.

“Look, muña! I’m just like keppa,” she grinned widely, making use of High Valyrian just as her father intended. “I look ferocious now!”

A genuine chuckle escaped your lips as she started marching in circles on the floor, conjuring a deep frown and and brushing her long hair off her shoulders.

Your heart was bursting at the seems with adoration. He had been the one to give her that. He had once worried he would not be a suitable father, but the happy little girl running in front of you was the living proof that he had overcome his fears.

“Keppa, keppa!” She cheered once Aemond walked in from the other room.

He lowered himself to pick her up into his arms, and she promptly wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, squishing her face against his.

“Please do not say a word,” he said in defeat, but only to get a reaction from her.

You had to clasp one hand to your mouth to muffle a laugh.

His silky long silver hair had strands twisted in all sorts of odd angles from the velvety laces that ranged from a rose pink to a deep red.

“Iksā gevia,” she said, planting a sloppy kiss on his scar.

“Gevie,” he corrected, welcoming her affection. “And you are the one who’s beautiful.”

She pecked his eyepatch, playing with his hair and tying tiny bows into it. “Now I’m beautiful like you,” she beamed, pointing at her covered eye.

You slowly approached them, and placed your head on his shoulder, realising just how fortunate you were to be blessed with a husband who was an exceptional parent.

“The eyepatch?” you inquired, raising an eyebrow.

He looked adoringly at the child sitting on his arm. “She asked me to get her one.”

Aemond had onced expressed how hesitant he was to show her his sapphire eye, fearing she might be scared of him.

But shouldn’t have feared her reaction. She did gaze at him with eyes wide open, and then said her father’s eye reminded her of the deep blue ocean she had seen from Vhagar’s back one day.

Their bond was so strong one could only wonder how such unconditional love was possible.

The first word your daughter had said was keppa. The moment she was old enough to walk, she would stride around the Red Keep behind Aemond. The first time she stubbed her foot on a table, he had Vhagar burn it to the ground (much to Queen Alicent’s horror as it was a very old and esteemed piece of furniture).

Aemond turned his face to you, placing the softest kiss on your lips.

“Please aid me, my lady,” he feigned suffering , drawing out the most adorable chuckles from your daughter. “This baby dragon is attacking my hair.”

She bared her tiny teeth as fangs and growled. “I am dangerous!”

The love he had for her knew no boundaries. She came first. He’d give her the moon should she ask for it.

Yet, she had celebrated her 7th name day not long ago, and her only wish was to always have her father by her side.

She was far too young to know such thing was impossible and to learn of the heartache of losing someone you loved, but you didn’t tell her. Nor did Aemond.

For now, you’d simply cherish your family, and falling deeper in love with them.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond fluff #aemond x you #aemond x reader #hotd imagine

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inkykeiji · 2 months

Text

begging touya-nii to buy you pretty pink brass knuckles, with heart-shaped holes and a shimmering coat of magenta chrome, plus a matching pretty pink switchblade, with a razored prismatic blade and a handle encrusted with corresponding iridescent crystals—pearlescent, almost, so it matches yours, niichan!

he won’t, because little girls shouldn’t have such dangerous weapons—nor should they need them, not when they’ve got their big brothers with them, wary sapphire eyes watchful and protective, obsessive and excessive.

he won’t, because little girls shouldn’t sully their soft, sweet palms with such dirty defences—not when they’ve got their big brothers to do it for them, cuticles stained with blood and calluses tarnished with gunpowder, filthy hands strong and rough as they wrap around handles and wrists and triggers, as they push soft, sweet things behind their broad shoulders, against their hard chests, into their childhood beds.

he won’t, because even if he did, little girls wouldn’t know how to use them properly, little girls might hurt themselves—or worse, little girls might hurt their big brothers, might smash bones and split skin and slash hearts, might scratch and claw and gnaw their way loose (all by accident, of course; he knows you’d never do such blasphemous things on purpose, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less).

no, he won’t, but dabi might.

#dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader #tw:pseudocest #touya nii universe #the idea here (if ur a lil lost which u prob are since u aren’t inside my lil head):#touya-nii would never ever gift you anything that will allow you any sort of independence from him #but DABI (tag dabi in particular was in my mind while writing this) frets and fears and wants to teach you self defense so he knows you’re #always safe—even when you’re not with him

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weemssapphic · 6 months

Text

resplendent

Larissa Weems x f!reader

Another little Kinktober fic! 🩸

Words: ~ 2.2k | ao3 link in title

Content/warnings: vampire!reader, nsfw (smut - minors DNI), period sex, cunnilingus, marking

A/N: I swear to god I received a request for vampire!reader eating Larissa out while she's on her period and I thought it would fit well for Kinktober BUT I CAN'T FIND IT ANYMORE fhughdksghfduk. so anyway. here it is. :) *runs away and hides*

“Gods, my love, you smell divine,” you purr seductively into Larissa’s ear, standing behind her as you pull her flush against you, your hand resting on her lower abdomen.

Larissa is on her period and, as always during this time of the month, you can’t seem to keep your hands off of her. Your heightened sense of smell is driving you wild - blood is a natural aphrodisiac for you, your entire body prickling with an almost unbearable heat whenever you’re in the same room as your girlfriend while she’s on her period.

Larissa allows herself to lean back fully against you, sighing deeply as her eyes flutter shut. She pushes her lower belly into your hand and squirms slightly, placing her own hands over yours and applying a light pressure.

“Cramps?” you guess, pressing featherlight kisses to your lover’s neck - she tilts her head to the side to grant you better access and her pulse picks up almost imperceptibly. It drives you insane and you can feel your fangs slowly extend, drool beginning to pool in your mouth.

Platinum curls tickle your collarbone as Larissa nods, a frustrated huff leaving her lips. She pulls away from you and goes to sit on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs tightly together - as if that would somehow stop the scent of her blood from permeating the room.

“I’m sorry, I know this time of the month is hard for you,” she says, and it breaks your heart a little - you want to provide her comfort, you really do, but the mere scent of her makes you feel absolutely famished. You’ve only had human blood a handful of times in your life, usually going for animal blood, just like many of your peers. And, usually, people being on their period around you isn’t a big issue - you’ve trained yourself to be able to ignore the scent, and you always have an emergency supply of blood on you.

But when it’s the blood of your soulmate? The pull is almost too much to bear.

“I could give you a massage,” you suggest, trying to keep your voice level. Larissa’s gaze snaps up to meet yours, her bright sapphire eyes wider than you’ve ever seen them.

“Are you sure?”

You offer her a confident smile and stride up to the edge of the bed. “Lay back,” you instruct, and Larissa does as she’s told, settling back against the pillows and watching you curiously. She’s already dressed for sleep, wearing a deep crimson, silk pajama set, and you push her shirt up a bit to reveal her belly. Your fingers curl under the waistband of her pants, folding them down a bit to provide you better access to the area as you kneel between her thighs.

Her skin is smooth and soft underneath your hands, her abdomen bloated just a tiny bit, and you press your fingers into the tender flesh. Larissa lets out a soft groan and closes her eyes, squirming a little against your hands as they start to knead softly into her.

“Does that feel good?” you husk, your breathing growing more ragged by the second as Larissa starts to let out soft, barely audible noises of pleasure.

“Mmh… yes, thank you.” She pushes herself up into your hands and wiggles her hips - the action sends a fresh wave of her scent into the room and you feel your belly fill with heat as your cunt clenches around nothing.

“Larissa?” you ask suddenly, hating how breathless you sound. She opens her eyes - her pupils are slightly dilated and you bite back a groan. “Can I try something?”

Larissa’s cheeks turn pink - she’s pretty sure she knows what you’re about to ask. You’ve never made a secret of your intense desire for her during this time of the month, but she’s never suggested making love during her period before, so you figured she didn’t want to. But now, with the way her cheeks are flushing and her legs are gently - eagerly - parting for you, you’re starting to wonder why you hadn’t asked sooner.

“Tell me what you want to try,” she whispers, her voice hoarse with desire.

“I want to taste you.”

Brilliant white teeth sink into plush pink lips as Larissa moans, muffling the noise. “Please,” she murmurs, wiggling her hips again.

She watches you through heavy-lidded eyes as you crawl up her body, hovering over her as your fingers begin to undo the buttons of her shirt, then push it over her shoulders and discard it in a heap next to the bed. Your lips immediately find her collarbone, fangs grazing her skin as you kiss down the valley of her breasts, and you pepper the soft mounds of flesh with tiny bite marks, careful not to draw blood - you’ll have your share in a minute. Your lover is so sensitive around this time of the month, and each little nip and kiss draws a sinful noise from her throat as she arches her back off the bed in an attempt to get closer.

Latching onto a rosy nipple, you begin to flick your tongue over the pert bud, licking and sucking until it has been tugged into a hard peak. You swirl your tongue in slow, sensual circles, tracing your hands possessively over Larissa’s swollen belly and reveling in the deep, raspy groans that your ministrations pull from her chest. You repeat the action on the other side, until both of her nipples are hard and glistening with your saliva, and Larissa’s own hand is sliding up her body to fondle her breast - anything for more stimulation.

Your lips begin to trail lower, marking her stomach in hues of red and purple until you reach the waistband of her pants. A smirk grows on your face as Larissa cants her hips upwards in anticipation, and you waste no time in dragging her pants down her legs, taking her underwear right with them and placing them aside - planting kisses down the length of her legs as you go.

The sight before you instantly makes you heady, borderline delirious - Larissa’s perfect little cunt, glistening not with her usual arousal but with blood. Deep red, wet, catching the light as it drips slowly out of her. Resplendent.

The scent alone, this close and without the usual barriers of clothing or sanitary products, fills your nostrils like perfume - musky, metallic, heavy, divine. You let out a shuddering breath as you hook Larissa’s thighs over your shoulders - her folds spread open at the action and a bit of blood drips down onto the sheets beneath you.

The sheets… Larissa will be upset about those, but right now you don’t care - your mind is growing hazy and you couldn’t back out now if you tried. Licking your lips in anticipation, you lean in and run your tongue up Larissa’s slit. The moment you taste that first drop of blood, you feel your limbs begin to tingle, a deep, wanton groan clawing its way from your throat.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” you moan, flattening your tongue against Larissa’s cunt, exploring her folds and licking up every drop of blood she has to offer. You feel her hands settle on the back of your head and curl into your hair, pushing your face as close as possible to her core. “Does that feel good?”

Larissa whines, her fingers winding themselves even tighter in your hair, and you chuckle in response. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Another drawn out whine escapes her lips and you glance up just in time to see Larissa’s eyelids flutter shut, her brow creasing and her lips parting. You begin to lap at Larissa’s folds, the taste and the scent making your own clit throb. You almost feel satiated - like you’re having the best meal of your life - and yet you need more.

“Does this turn you on? Knowing I get to taste you like this?”

Larissa lets out a groan, rolling her hips and arching her back off the bed.

“Answer me, love.”

“Y- mmh - y-yes.” Larissa’s voice is much breathier than usual - you glance up again and smirk when you see her rolling her own nipple between her fingers, when you see her belly ripple as she writhes against the mattress.

“You’re so sensitive,” you whisper as you flick your tongue over Larissa’s clit - she moans and grinds her hips into your mouth, and you feel her blood smear across your chin. You must be covered now, the lower half of your face red and wet. “Look at me.”

She does, her pupils dilated with lust and her cheeks flushed. Her eyelids flutter - they look heavy, as though it’s taking all her strength to keep them open - particularly when you choose that moment to wrap your lips around her throbbing clit and suck. She draws in a sharp breath and her tongue darts out to wet her lips as her hips roll erratically against your face.

The noises she lets out are becoming more and more lewd as your tongue draws hard, fast circles around her sensitive bundle of nerves. You feel she may be close to coming undone completely - and you are, too. The tangy, metallic flavor of her heat is like nothing you’ve ever tasted - in combination with the musky, womanly scent that fills your nostrils, it causes the coil in your belly to tighten.

The pull is too difficult to resist - your tongue trails from Larissa’s cunt to her inner thighs and you nose the area. Her skin is warm and soft and a little sweaty, and you lick your lips before pressing them firmly to her tender flesh. Your fangs are extended and you graze them over the skin, drawing a whimper from your lover - when you glance up, you see her fist desperately at the sheets beneath her.

“Darling…” Her voice comes out a breathy whisper - it makes your entire body prickle with warmth.

“Shh,” you whisper, before sinking your fangs slowly into her skin. She draws in a sharp breath, her leg twitching, and you immediately flatten your tongue and soothe it over the puncture wounds, swallowing the drops of blood that have surfaced. Another gasp escapes Larissa’s mouth and she brings her hands to your hair, holding you firmly in place against her thigh.

“Such a good girl,” you murmur as you suck the remaining blood from the wounds, the taste like a drug to you.

“P-please…” Larissa squirms and you take pity on her, kissing your way across her skin back to her clit and circling the throbbing bud with your tongue. She bucks her hips into your mouth, her fingers twisting in your hair, her nails scratching your scalp.

Larissa’s thighs tremble around your head and she can no longer keep her eyes open - she drops her head back against the pillow, her chest heaving as she squeezes her eyes shut. Her jaw goes slack and her face contorts in ecstasy as pleasure washes over her. You place a warm hand over her belly as you lap at her folds, feeling her stomach muscles contract as she rides out her high.

When Larissa finally relaxes back against the covers, you pull away, the lower half of your face coated in a mixture of her arousal and her blood. She’s breathing heavily, her hands caressing her own body as she attempts to come back down to earth, and you crawl up to meet her. Her eyes widen as she takes in the messy sight before her.

“I’m sor-”

“Kiss me,” you command, and before Larissa can process your request, you crash your lips into hers. She lets out a surprised squeak, then a deep groan as your tongue slips into her mouth and twirls against her own. At first, you aren’t sure if she’s disgusted at the taste of her own blood, but then she wraps her arms around your neck and pulls you flush against her, deepening the kiss and letting out a pleased hum.

“How do you feel now?” you mumble against her lips as you part for air. You have to bite back a groan as you look down at her - she looks divine, the blood from your mouth having smeared across her chin and nose - it stokes your appetite all over again.

Larissa’s cheeks turn pink and she bats her eyelashes, her lips curling into a shy smile. “Sated.”

It’s a sentiment you agree with - you feel as though a thirst you’ve had your entire life has suddenly been quenched. You ask Larissa to wait right there for you as you draw a bath for the two of you, then come to get her and help her into the water. She leans back into you, tilting her neck to the side and allowing you to litter her skin in faint bruises and shallow puncture marks as her eyelids grow heavy with sleep. You know that eventually the water will grow cold and you’ll have to wake her and coax her to bed - but for now, you’re content to simply love on her and admire the soft smile on her lips as she relaxes into you. Your lover. Your everything.

Taglist: @alexusonfire @brienneswife @rosieathena @pro-weems-places @bigolgay @kimiinou @imprincipalweemspet @h-doodles @bychrissi @katie-bennet @giogwensversion @gela123 @friskyfisher @justcallmelittleone @michi2504 @scream-queenlover @a-queen-and-her-throne @sequoirius @anne-lister @winterfireblond @imgayforwoman69 @Ssappling2004 @fictionalized-lesbian @i-like-reading @aemilia19 @milfsloverblog @missdowling @billiedeansbitch

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #larissa x reader #principal weems x reader #principal weems #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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azrielslightintheshadows · 5 months

Text

Fake love.

Eris x f!Reader.

Summary; Reader realizes that she is her mate's second choice.

Warnings; angst, swearing.

Inspiration; see this post.

Masterlist.

My heart broke.

The autumn breeze caressed the soft skin of your cheeks, leaving a shade of pink on its whisper. You stared at the forest beneath your balcony, the only sound that surrounded you was the song of the wind and the squeaks of the rocking chair you were currently sitting on. You hummed in the rhythm the trees moved and leaned back.

“What are you doing little fox?” Your mates deep voice danced with your humming.

“Just admiring the view” you smiled as you peeked at him.

He was wearing a maroon tunic, decorated with rubies and sapphires making his pale face shine and highlighting his mischievous amber eyes.

“I thought I was your favorite view.” He feigned a hurt expression and placed his hand over his heart.

“You are my favorite everything my love” you murmured and his eyes softened.

He picked you up and sat on the chair, placing you on his lap.

“I will leave tomorrow.” He informed you and you hummed, hiding your flushed face in his neck.

“Focus little fox.” He chuckled and pushed you with his shoulder. You raised your head with a whine and stared into his beautiful eyes. The lighting made them look like the most precious gold someone could ever find.

“I will go to the Night Court, I have some things to discuss with Rhysand...” he explained. You nodded and waited for him to continue.

“No matter what you hear please wait for me to come back and I will explain everything.”

“What do you mean by that?” you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Nothing… don’t worry about it.” He smiled reassuringly and pressed a soft kiss on your temple.

That night Eris made love to you multiple times and the morning he left with a kiss on your forehead, leaving his warmth as a sweet promise of returning to you.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 🍁 🍂 ☁️˙✧˖°

“Y/n is one of the sweetest females in my family my lady. I completely trust her.” Your aunt Nissa had said to Lady Autumn when she suggested you to fill the empty space as one of her servants.

“She seems kind.” The lady had said as she scanned your form “Okay she can start whenever she is ready.”

That’s how you earned a place in the forest house. You made sure that Lady Autumn had everything she needed and soon enough she became quite fond of you. She would call you in her room to read together and a few months later she started taking you with her everywhere.

One day as you were strolling around the garden her eldest son -Eris approached you with a kind smile.

“Are you enjoying the sun mother?” he asked.

“Yes it’s refreshing.” She replied and glanced at you. “This is Y/n one of my favorite… oh well I don’t want to call her a servant so I guess one of my favorite friends”

“That’s kind of you my Lady” you bowed your head and then your eyes fell on the stunning male. “Lord Eris it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Eris devoured you with his eyes, a hint of amusement shining in them.

“Likewise,” he replied with a smirk and then bowed his head to his mother and left.

You kept dreaming about him even when your eyes were open, making Lady Autumn raise her eyebrows every time she asked you something and you didn’t hear her.

Eris started visiting his mother quite frequently, making it harder for you to stop thinking about him. A few days later the lady asked you to join her and her son for a stroll in the forest. After walking for a few minutes, she disappeared with a lame excuse about forgetting to ask the chefs to make something and a wink.

Eris and you continued strolling around and talking about many topics, noticing how much you had in common. That was the beginning of your relationship, you spent the next months sneaking around the forest house, thankfully Lady Autumn covered for you in fear that Beron would find out and torture you. When the bond snapped in place Eris decided to announce it and Beron had no choice but accepting a servant as his son’s partner.

“Even though I feel disappointed, the Cauldron chose you as my son’s mate and I don’t want to be disrespectful.” He had said and waved a dismissive hand.

You were immediately dismissed from your duties as the lady’s servant and moved in your own chambers next to your mate’s with your own servants. Even though Beron was a cruel monster you never gave him a reason to turn his spite on you. Your kind nature made you look like the perfect obedient female, yet when you were alone with Eris you showed a more confident and strong character. That was what he loved about you, his heart skipped a beat every time you would argue or tease him, knowing that he made you feel safe and comfortable enough to show him your true self.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 🍁 🍂 ☁️˙✧˖°

You whined as you rolled on his empty side, pressing your face on his pillow and inhaling his spicy scent.

“Good morning sweetie, Lady Autumn is waiting for you to choose the design for the wedding announcement they will place on the gates of the house.” Your aunt said excitedly as she pulled the curtains letting the light to roam freely in your room.

“Five more minutes” you groaned and hugged your mate’s pillow.

“Come on your lover boy will be here tomorrow” she snorted.

You got up with a grunt and your servants hurried in your room, preparing your bath and choosing your outfit.

You stared at the red gown they put on you in awe.

“What about this necklace?” Nissa asked and held it in front of you. It was a gold necklace decorated with rubies that Eris gifted you for your birthday. You smiled at the memory.

“Close your eyes.” Eris smiled.

You were cuddling in front of the fireplace still naked from the previous actions.

“Okay” you giggled and covered your eyes with your palms.

“Don’t peek” he scolded, and you blushed.

You felt something cold touching the delicate skin on your neck and shuddered.

“Shh its okay” he purred and instantly his warmth soothed your skin.

He picked you in his arms and carried you somewhere. “Where are you taking me?” you asked.

He didn’t reply, he just placed you on your feet and moved his hands on your hips.

“Open your eyes beautiful” he whispered in your ear, and you suppressed a moan.

You removed your hands from your face and glanced at the mirror. The mesmerizing necklace decorated your neck.

“Its so beautiful” your eyes watered “thank you so much my love.”

“Its one of a kind, just like you.” He said softly and caressed your cheek with his thumb.

“Y/n!” Nissa’s voice snapped you out of the memory. Your eyes focused on her and she sighed. “Let’s go Lady Autumn is waiting for you.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 🍁 🍂 ☁️˙✧˖°

“I think the one with the painting of the Autumn leaves is the best” you said, and the lady hummed.

“Yes I think it’s the most elegant one” she nodded.

The door of the small office opened and one of Beron’s advisors walked in.

“I’m sorry to interrupt but the High Lord asked me to inform you that there will be no announcement yet.” He said politely and bowed his head.

“Why?” you asked.

“Uhm… I-I don’t know how to tell you this my lady” he stuttered.

“What happened? Is Eris okay?” the Lady gasped.

“Yes he is fine, uhm… the heir as you know is in the Night Court.” He said and you nodded. “He made a proposition… to marry the High lady’s eldest sister Nesta”.

Your heart broke into a million pieces, you felt like your feet stopped working and your knees trembled. “W-what?” you choked.

“There’s no way” the lady exclaimed and covered her mouth with her palm.

“I’m so sorry but the wedding is on hold until we have an answer from the night court.” He bowed again and left the room hurriedly.

“My child” the lady tried to pull you in her arms, but you took a few steps back.

Tears streamed down your face, landing on your chest just where the necklace ended. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, like the necklace was choking you and it probably was. It was choking you with all the promises of love and forevers.

“The wedding is on hold” you whispered and grabbed the piece of jewellery ripping it from your neck and watching the rubies hitting the ground and breaking.

You snorted as you watched the fragments spread on the floor.

Rubies don’t break like that. Fake like his love.

“Forever” you growled.

“My dear child…” she tried to speak. “The wedding is on hold forever. Let everyone know.” You yelled and sprinted to your chambers. You started packing as many clothes as you could.

“No matter what you hear please wait for me to come back and I will explain everything.”

He had made the decision, that’s why he said it. He knew and he still held me in his arms, he still kissed me. He still made love to me. You felt nauseous.

“Y/n wait.” Nissa walked into your room.

“No! I’m done” you screamed and kept packing. “I’m no one’s second choice”.

“Eris is coming back tomorrow, you should let him explain before you make a decision.”

“There’s nothing to explain.” you grabbed the bag and marched out. “Y/n please” Nissa ran after you.

You walked faster and almost smacked into Beron’s chest. He stared down at you with a quirked brow.

“Where are you going?” he asked curiously.

“The wedding is cancelled, I don’t have a reason to stay here.” You replied politely.

“The wedding is on hold” he said.

“No I called it off” your voice remained steady.

“Good” he smirked wickedly and stepped to the side.

“Goodbye High Lord” you bowed your head and left quickly.

You had no respect for Beron, but you couldn’t show it in case he decided to punish you.

Nissa kept running after you.

“Where are you going? You don’t have a place to stay” she cried out.

“I will think of something.” You mumbled.

“You’re not leaving.” Lady Autumn emerged from one of the rooms. “I’ve informed Eris and he is returning as we speak.”

“My lady please... if you ever cared about me… let me go” you pleaded not wanting to face him.

“I’m sorry my child…” she said and stood in front of you blocking your way.

You dropped on your knees and cried. You felt completely helpless as the females blocked both your ways, trapping you in what you thought would be your perfect home. You had dreamed about your children running down these halls, their laughter echoing through the whole house.

“Please let me go” you kept sobbing again and again hoping that one of them would pity you.

“Y/n!” your mate’s voice boomed through the hall. “No” you cried out.

You felt strong arms grabbing your shoulders and his spicy scent that once made your heart flutter, made you gag now.

“Don’t touch me” you whispered, and he obliged. He sat on the ground in front of you and his eyes scanned your face.

“Please little fox let me explain” his voice was soft as he spoke.

“There is nothing to explain Eris. I am your second choice. I’m just a servant, right?” you scoffed.

“You know that I don’t really care about these things. I only did it so I can have the night court’s support to become high lord. If they accepted, I wouldn’t touch her, I would stay with you secretly and when my father would die, I would end the wedding.” He said like it is the most normal thing in the world.

“You only care about the throne” you whispered with wide eyes. “Yesterday you told me not to believe anything I hear; you had made your decision and you hoped that no one would tell me. Were you planning to tell me if they refused?”

He remained silent.

“Cauldron I’m such an idiot.” You sniffled and got up. “We’re done Eris Vanserra. I don’t want to see you again.”

“No no no please” he followed you as you stormed out.

“Good fucking bye” you growled and winnowed away.

#acotar #acotar series #acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #autumn court #acomaf #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #acowar #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of wings and ruin

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thecupidwitch · 1 month

Text

Planetary Magick🌙

Sun

Zodiac: Leo

Metal: Gold

Day: Sunday

Colors: organge, yellow, amber

Stones: Amber, topaz, ruby, diamond

Tarot: The Sun

Herbs: Angelica, poppy, sunflower, marigold, hibiscus, mistletoe

Symbols: lion, hexagram, sparrow hawk, dragon, head, heart, swan

Influences: renown, potency, fortune, tyranny, pride, ambition, masculinity, arrogance, bigotry, vitality, health

Moon

Zodiac: cancer

Metal: sliver

Day: Monday

Colors: blue, sliver

Stones: moonstone, pearl

Tarot: The High Priestess, The Chariot

Herbs: eucalyptus, coconut, jasmine, lotus, myrrh, sandalwood

Symbols: bow and arrow, crab, cat, turtle, Sphinx, owl

Influences: gradtitufe, friendliness, safe, travel, physical health, wealth, protection for enemies, deception, illusion, women, emotions, healing, dreams

Mercury

Zodiac: Virgo, Gemini

Metal: aluminum, Mercury

Day: Wednesday

Colors: violet, gray, purple, indigo, yellow

Stones: opal agate

Tarot: The Lovers

Herbs: hyssop, juniper, betony, carrot, chickweed

Symbols: wand, octagram, the mind

Influences: good fortune, gratitude, gain, memory, understanding, divination, dreams, forgetfulness, communication, business, cleverness, creativity, information, intellect, memory, perception, science, wisdom, gambling, writing, root of dishonesty, deception

Venus

Zodiac: taurus, libra

Metal: copper

Day: Friday

Colors: green, pink

Stones: turquoise, emerald, sapphire, jade

Tarot: The Empress

Herbs: jimsonweed, violet, rose, alder, apple, angelica, olive, sesame

Symbols: sparrow, dove, swan, pentagram

Influences: peace, agreements, cooperation, fertility, joy, love, good fortune, jealousy, strife, promiscuity

Mars

Zodiac: aries, scorpio

Metal: iron, red brass, steel

Day: Tuesday

Color: Red

Stones: ruby, garnet, bloodstone, diamond

Tarot: The Tower

Herbs: ginger, mustard

Symbols: sword, pentagram, horse, bear, wolf, vulture

Influences: war, victory, judgements, submission of enemies, bleeding, stripping one of rank, harness, discord, conflict, aggression, lust, power, courage, goals, protection, motivation, ambition, strength

Jupiter

Zodiac: pisces, sagittarius

Metal: tin

Day: Thursday

Colors: blue

Stone: sapphire

Tarot: The Wheel of Fortune

Herbs: balm, hyssop, maple leaf and bark, oak, sage, dandelion root

Symbols: eagle, dolphin

Influences: gains, riches, favor, peace, cooperation, appeasing enemies, dissolving

Saturn

Zodiac: capricorn

Metal: lead

Day: Saturday

Color: black

Stone: onyx

Taror: The World

Herbs: alder, apple, ash, asparagus, baneberry, belladonna, distort, hellebore, blackthorn, corm, cypress

Symbols: cuttlefish, mole

Influences: safety, power, success, positive response to requests, intellect, causes discord, strips honor, melancholy

Uranus

Zodiac: aquarius

Day: Thursday

Colors: blue-green, electric blue

Stones: quartz, labradorite, blue topaz, amber, amethyst, garnet, diamond

Tarot: The Fool

Herbs: clover, pokeweed, snowdrop, foxglove, love, rosemary, trees of heaven, hellebore, morning glory, sage, wintergreen, orchids, sweet woodruff

Symbols: dragonfly, butterfly

Influences: breaking connection, sudden and unexpected change, freedom, originality, radical and revolutionary ideas, enlightenment, equality, individuality, rebellion, instability, loneliness, boredom, mistrust of self

Neptune

Zodiac: pisces

Minerals: coral, aquamarine, platinum, neptunium

Colors: green, blue, lavender

Tarot: The Hanged Man

Herbs: morning glory, night-blooming jasmine, pine, water lily

Symbols: the sea, Trident, the spine

Influences: dissolving boundaries, expanding upon ideas, changing established rules, intuition, idealism, sacrifice, glamour, illusion, evolution, decay, visions, art, healing, inspiration, dreams, creativity, compassion, drifting from reality, carelessness, stubbornness, absent mind

Pluto

Zodiac: scorpio

Metal: plutonium, tin chrome, steel

Day: Tuesday

Colors: maroon, dark red, purple, white, black

Stones: snowflake obsidian, clack tourmaline

Tarot: Judgement

Herbs: pomegranate, rosemary, vanilla, basil, poppies, belladonna, foxglove

Symbols: Phoenix, snake, scorpion, fox, eagle

Influences; destruction making way for renewal, rebirth, knowledge, spirituality, transformation, destiny, the subconscious, desire, arrogance, death, obsession, destruction

#thecupidwitch #witchcraft #planetary magic #witchblr #witchcore #witches #witch community #witch #grimoire #spellwork #spirituality

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mizuseyebrows · 1 month

Text

I'm... a monster —mizu x reader

warnings: not proofread. fluff. she/her pronouns for mizu. slight angst. insecurities.

includes: sweet and compasionate reader. 'weak' and vulnerable mizu. word count: 2.2k (the shortest i've written so far, make a wish)

summary: you two were playing roll around, you kissed and mizu felt insecure when you called her 'pretty'... and you gave mizu her first hug ever 😭

a/n: i love writing vulnerable mizu... someone give her a hug

You've been traveling for a while with Mizu. Although at first she refused, as the days went by you showed her your skill with archery. Now when she had to defend herself from those who stood in her way, you could defend her back with your bow and arrow.

This has led to develop your relationship and become closer the more time you spent together. Maybe one night, resting in an eater, you went a little too far with the sake and let out a loving and clingy side that Mizu didn't fully know. And maybe, you stole a kiss from her that night that caught her off guard, she didn't know how to react… for almost a week.

But against all odds, that led you to have a certain joking and mischievous attitude towards each other. On more than one occasion, you both stole some kisses to see which of the two of you would be more flustered. It was all very innocent and playful, and that seemed to allow Mizu to let go a lot more.

However, you could still see that there were things that Mizu avoided telling or confessing. You assumed there could be a turbulent past, it was something you suspected due to certain comments that reflected her poor perception of herself. You wanted to help but how do you do that if she wasn't ready to talk about it yet?

Still, not being very clear about what happened in her life before you —not including the reason why she is on a journey of revenge— did not prevent you from seeing what was hidden beneath that cold and ‘impenetrable’ mask.

Under that layer of snow, there was a warm girl with a softer tone of voice who usually laughs at your flirtatious and affectionate comments. Sometimes she didn't even know how to respond to you, her mind seemed to freeze the second she tried to flirt with you back.

But it was adorable, she is adorable.

Mizu’s so adorable when she laughs as you two roll around playing some wrestling near the campfire. She’s so adorable when she grasps your wrists to settled them both sides of your head. She’s fucking adorable when she pins you against the floor and you can feel her pants brushing above your nose and mouth.

And, oh… She’s way more adorable que she gives you a little smile while her blue eyes looking over your features breathlessly as her chest heaves up and down.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You asked with a giggle. Your face slowly took on the color of the cherry blossoms as those sapphire orbs scanned you intensely.

"I'm... thinking." Mizu mumbled as her cheeks flushed pink too, her lips parting in a slight smile.

But she kept quiet after that, as if she didn't know what else to say. She didn't move, looking down at you with a soft expression. She remained like this for a few seconds before she broke the silence, leaning in a bit closer.

"May I... have a kiss?" She whispered as she looked up at you, her eyes darting down to your lips and back up to your eyes. There was something hidden in her gaze, almost like a hint of insecurity or fear.

The hairs on your body stood up as you heard the tone she used and how soft her question sounded. Also those hidden feelings had made your limbs tense a little, "…a kiss?"

"Yes," She breathed, leaning closer to you. "Please." Her voice was breathless, her eyes closing as she inched towards you. Her blue eyes looked right through you as her breath tickled your nose with a small smile. She paused, waiting for you to make the first move.

Your heart raced as you couldn't focus on Mizu's face very well due to the proximity between the two of you. Her eyes closed so gently, creating a pair of crescents that made an excited scream want to escape from your throat.

You shortened the distance, initiating a shy and soft kiss. Your lips pressed against each other, their warmth clashing together. Her mouth softly opened up now sharing a passionate kiss with you. Although your breathings were getting heavier, there really was no ulterior motive in this display of affection. Not even because Mizu pressed herself more against you as the kiss continued.

When she broke the kiss she looked away from you— her cheeks flushed pink as they glowed a dark red in the dim light and her eyes darting away from yours. Now her expression seemed conflicted: she frowned and pouted while it seemed like she was thinking about something. Her breathing was still heavy but you didn't think it was because of the kiss. With concern, you raised your hands to caress her cheeks, seeking to distract her or take her back from wherever her mind was on her.

Mizu remained still as you caressed her cheeks, her heart beating faster with each touch you gave her, but she turned her face to look at you again. Her eyes were snapping back to yours as you could see deep into her blue eyes. There was a certain weakness in her gaze, however, she gave you a relieved smile, enjoying this moment. She felt a strange sense of calmness wash over her... as if she finally found the light to help see through the dark.

"You look so pretty." You said without thinking much, admiring her.

"I'm not pretty. I'm far from pretty." Her voice sounded a little raspy despite how calm she looked.

"No, don't say that. You're very beautiful, Mizu. Seriously." You smiled warmly, unable to stop looking at her face.

"That's a lie." Mizu muttered, turning away from you. She looked at the ground. "I'm not beautiful. I'm just a scarred, vengeful assassin whose lost all sense of beauty. I'm... a monster."

You blinked in disbelief at what you heard. Those words were too harsh to describe a person, you couldn't believe what you heard. You wanted to ask who dared to make Mizu think that about herself. You wanted to have all the details about why she has that concept about her. But you didn't want to disrupt the moment, you didn't want to make her feel worse. So you just cupped her face lovingly and made her look at you again, rubbing your thumbs in circles.

"Whoever made you feel those ugly things about yourself is the real monster. And as a child I wanted to be a monster slayer. I'm gonna kill that monster."

You could see Mizu's eyes widen slightly, her breathing suddenly stopping briefly as she looked right at you. "I... you..." She mumbled, her face heating up as tears quickly welled up in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" You asked in a soft tone, wiping her tears.

Mizu was still silent as her breath hitched in her throat. Your affection was making her... emotionally vulnerable. She hated that. She couldn't let you see that weakness of hers. "Nothing, it's nothing. Just forget about it." She mumbled as she separated from you to sit a little away and turn her back to you, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"Mizu?" You sat on the floor watching her, concerned about her reaction. You gently caressed her shoulder, wanting to comfort her.

Mizu's hands clenched into fists to keep herself from bursting out in tears as she sniffed back. She didn't like the way you were so caring and worried about her... because she liked it. "I'm fine... really. Just... don't mind me."

"How do you ask me that? You're crying, I can't get past that." You moved a little closer to her, stroking her arm. "What's wrong? Tell me."

Mizu shuddered when you got closer to her... she wanted to push you away with all her strength but she couldn't. She couldn't break the warmth that she felt when you caressed her arm. She hated feeling weak. She had the feeling that you probably thought she was pathetic for crying in front of you like this. "I-I'm fi... it's just that... no one's ever... He—"

Mizu's cheeks flushed red as she looked down at her lap, trying her hardest not to look at you while still being next to you. She felt like she had lost all sense of self-control, and she hated every instance of it. She wanted to push you away from her, to stop the feelings of warmth that were washing over her body, but she couldn't. Her arms hung loosely, her hands starting to tremble slightly.

"Do you feel overwhelmed? Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?" You stayed at her side, you wanted to hug her but you wouldn't do any of that if it was too much for her.

Mizu remained quiet for a few moments, her breathing shaky and her cheeks flushed a dark, deep red. It took her a while but she finally found her voice again, her eyes still unable to look at you. "I just need a minute more... then I'll be fine." Mizu mumbled softly, breathing quietly. She hated showing this kind of weakness especially in front of you. She didn’t want you to think she was a weak and vulnerable girl.

"Take all the time you need." You smiled lovingly but you didn't move, you would accompany her until she felt better and that stupid that she was a monster faded away from her mind.

Mizu closed her eyes as she leaned her head back against your chest, breathing slowly. You could feel her chest rise and fall against you, trying to compose herself. She didn't know why she was revealing such a vulnerable side of herself right now but she felt so tired... as if she wasn't going to be able to hold on any longer. She needed you at this moment without even realizing how much she actually depended on you.

You caressed her back gently. You wanted her to understand that you were there for her, that she wasn’t alone and that she will never be alone when she needs it most. You didn't say anything else either, you felt like talking right now wasn't going to do much for her. Maybe in silence you will provide her with the answers she needs.

A small smile crept over her lips when she realized how safe she felt with you. You gave her a sense of calmness just by being next to her, your touch and breath giving off an aura of warmth. The warm sensation that was radiating from you made her heart beat faster than before, her cheeks flushing a bright pink. Your touch did something to her... something she didn't quite understand. It was like everything around her felt so quiet and still...

"Do you want a hug?" You asked her in a soft and calm tone. "Would that make you feel better?"

Just by hearing you ask this question made her heart skip a beat. A hug... that was all she had been wanting. The way you were caressing her back made her want to lean into you more, her body practically begging to be held. "Please..." She mumbled as her hand slowly reached for yours.

You smiled softly and approached her to put your arms around her body, wrapping them around her torso. You clinged her to you with some force. Then you raised one of your hands to rest it on the back of her neck, making her head rest in the crook of your shoulder.

Her breath hitched as she buried her face into your neck, her shoulders shaking slightly as she held onto you for dear life. She had wanted this— needed this for such a long time but could only admit it to herself now. Your warm body embracing her made her feel safe. She felt so vulnerable and weak. She felt like she could cry right now.

Again you were just silent and hugged her body lovingly, tightly. You leaned your head against hers, smiling at what you were doing. It was not only hugging Mizu's body, it was also hugging her soul with yours, wanting to convey to her that she was loved and appreciated.

She felt safe with you— a sense of calmness that swept through her in your embrace made her feel at ease. This was the type of feeling she had been yearning for, craving, a feeling of comfort.

"How do you feel, Mizu?" You asked in a whisper, stroking her back slowly and gently.

Mizu's body tensed up at your question, her breath suddenly becoming shaky. "I... feel..." Mizu mumbled as she bit down on her lip momentarily, trying to figure out what she was feeling right now.

"Don't put pressure on yourself." You tried to lull her and held her tighter to you, clinging to her a little.

Your comforting touch was all she needed right now. The way you were holding her tighter to you had her heart beating fast. She was surprised that you were so affectionate and comforting, and it was doing something to her. Her breath hitched in her throat once again as you held here tightly to yourself, your touch giving her a sense of happiness that she thought she would never felt in her life again. It was as if she had been drowning for so long and your hug was a glimmer of hope which she was finally grasping right now.

second part

#mizu #mizu x reader #mizu x you #mizu blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai #mizu bes #bes mizu #blue eye samurai mizu #bes

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