Apr 1
The Transgender Flag picked from The Tiki Birds!
Requested by Anon
seen from United States
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The Transgender Flag picked from The Tiki Birds!
Requested by Anon
Idiot Son Checkpoint
read netvor. that's my excuse to draw monster hands
isha’s aineanum being a basilisk. basilisk meaning ‘little ruler’. isha’s daughter being called ‘little isha’. themes motifs etc
LUGALIA'S NAME COMING FROM 'LUGAL' THE SUMERIAN WORD FOR RULER. WHAT IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW
au where everything’s the same but mr. curtain is a good dad
heated rivalry fanfic favorites masterlist
no one is asking for this but i have to make my one million hours on ao3 mean something
the texture of memory: very very very good, read it i am so serious, completed
the anatomy of a bird heart in slow decay: a love story ft ghosts, grief, mothers and sons, and survival. completed
car wash redhead, tube top R.E.M. concert, juror #6: hollanov character study, power and love, i adore those freaks so much <3, completed
fall in love again and again: the classic tuna-melt groundhog day, with a house of leaves flavour, completed
Jessica: teenaged shane as seen through his relationship with his high school girlfriend, i love them both so unbearably much, completed
home economics: nhl lockout leads to hollanov living together in the situationship era-there's no way this could go wrong! completed
Route 96 Kanata: shane suffers a career ending injury before meeting ilya but where there's a will there's a tortured hollanov situationship nonetheless. full of fantastic ottawan idiosyncrasies. wip
World on Your Shoulders: what if shane had a queer rookie while deep in the midst of his "i'm not gay" era? hilarious shane characterization, this whole series is a dark comedy that i want to swallow whole, completed
adding a cut because this got so fucking long lmao
wunderkind: breathtaking look into yuna hollander's inner world but everyone really shines through wonderfully here (ilya my heart i love you so much), completed
always, sun: canon,,,,,,,divergence?? magical realism, gorgeous and vaguely terrifying, completed
I have only two emotions (careful fear and dead devotion): shane disappears from hockey post prospect cup and hollanov meets again much farther down the road, gorgeous tender slow burn, completed
nothing makes me feel as good: shane character study through jj's eyes, god im so obsessed with this crazy crazy man, completed
I. ONE LITTLE GOD FALLING OVER ANOTHER: the last year in boston, gorgeous format, peeling back the edges of the GC universe, wip
The Canadian Hot 100: incredibly tender series of married hollanov vignettes, wip
The Discipline Of It: The Eating Disorder Shane Fic, at least for me. such a realistic look into an ed and ocd tendencies. love this take on shane & yuna's relationship as well, completed
your presence has gone through me (like needle through a thread): ilya gets a family and i cry one million tears of joy, wip
we'll make a home on the cracks: journalist shane fights his way out of an ethics torment nexus and finds true love <3 cute hollanov & fun shane characterization, wip
frequently, secretly fond of each other: boston! shane, you know it you love it, wip
some pacific wind: race and language: a hollanov conversation on perception, completed
dark out and still thirty degrees: one of the only a/b/o fics i've ever enjoyed, the misogyny/discrimination feels very real, ft. wonderful trans shane journey!! completed
gens du pays: "Do you think you can love two people at once"? aka giving shane a second situationship with sasha nolastname. might not be everyones cup of tea because ilya hasn't entered the picture yet, but i've been thinking about it nonstop since reading. such a good sasha , wip
Plexiglass Box: what if hollanov met as teens in Moscow? (ilya x coach's son but it was shane the whole time), Excellent tension, completed, with wip sequel
one of your eyes is always half-shut (something happened when you were a kid): a wonderful take on alexei, Such a gut punch to read as an older sibling, completed
and he spoke the bridegroom fair: pre-tunamelt shane on marriage, gender, race, and being known. completed
Hello From Moscow, Goodbye from Montreal: canon divergence circa 2012 where ilya calls shane drunk one night, and keeps calling after that, equally funny and devastating, wip
i could have been somebody else: shane and rose post-breakup discovering things about themselves together, platonic soulmates2me, completed
waiting for the tides to change: sweet little hollanov-as-childhood-best-friends snapshot , completed
It had to be you, Wonderful you: transmasc ilya you are soooo dear to me, completed
Offside: coach/player forbidden hollanov but it's sweeter than you would expect. wip
Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago: climbing inside your soulmates body is a thing that is both normal to want and possible to have (ft. painful but warming version of shane's life post. career ending injury), wip
head and body to you: tortured self-destructive shane character study, toxic? situationship hollanov, canon-typical emotion development through the lens of sex, completed
the soviet montage: obviously already popular but i had to, cold-war era hollanov post. ilya's defection from the soviet union, completed
Home Ice Advantage: another boston! shane but diving more deeply into how being traded would impact the hockey of it all, very perfectionism torment nexus, completed (with wip sequel)
Blizost: what if you could climb inside your lover and share one body between two souls?, completed
Mama's Boy, Mama's Boy: shane hollander's journey if the whole time he was also haunted by his situationship's dead mom, fantastic irina characterization, completed
cracked plexiglass: canon rewrite that fleshes out a version of shane's pre-NHL hockey career that's more realistic to the actual environment of high level Canadian juniors, wip
i know where to draw the line: older captain shane and younger teammate ilya, super cute, completed
but what if I need you in my darkest hour? : our favorite hockey players plane crash Bad on the way to 2017 All Stars, painful in all the ways, completed
Just Enough of You: shane fills in for his identical twin during a photoshoot with ilya rozanov, and the consequences are disastrous. hilarious plot on top of an incredible twin tormet nexus. wip
other half: another twin! shane fic, but twin sister this time. incredibly endearing main oc and complicated hollander family dynamics. wip
The Eyes are Afraid: "accidental child aquisition in the sense that shane accidentally finds himself co-parenting ilya's little sister", wip
calcified and useless (should i try and do it?): my favorite shanebortion fic, completed
spartacus.: "Ilya Rozanov, what do you want? And how are you going to get it?", completed
lenticchie per capodanno: ilya makes a friend post-tunamelt #doublebeard, the torment is so good, wip
Moscow lost and found: 13 year old shane goes on an epic family reunion quest in moscow and meets ilya along the way, they are soooo sweet and young it makes my heart hurt, wip
the winners-verse: canon-divergent series exploring shane and ilya's relationship after the end of HR. obsessed with these versions of them, they both have serious teeth. completed
I'm Just Happy You Still Call: yuna character study as shane does a little growing up, completed
if you're scared of wolves: ilya in a time loop but it's a Decade Long, broke my brain, wip
thylacine: shane's introspection on his race and hockey, i shed actual tears at the end, completed
virtue theory: a truly excellent shane character study. nothing like a man to misuse stoicism! completed
gulf winds: shane & ilya coparenting alexei's niece when really they could use some extra time cooking themselves. but also maybe the coparenting is the self-parenting in the end. ft. a delightful female oc wip
oh well, I guess we're gonna find out!: shane and ilya together as the zombie apocalypse comes directly post-vegas. really good shanestruggle, completed
Electric Fan (Feel It Motherfuckers): "Ilya has one hour to wipe his existence from his boyfriends’ house": a closer look at the closet. i can't do the summary justice but know it made me cry a little. completed
the ghost of you: shane and ilya reunite 7 years after the tuna-melt debacle, as shane's divorce with rose is being processed. completed
the one hand rim-rocker: "Ilya Rozanov gets fisted". like the bottom!ilya thesis to me, and the sequel hits just as hard–so so hot. if you don't like no one's forcing you to read, i don't want to hear it! completed
Countdown to Connect: post. breakup with ilya and being outed, shane finds his footing after being traded to the centaurs. told through wyatt's pov with shane pov sequel. completed, sequel wip
when there's nothing left to burn: "In which Scott Hunter accepts a trade to Montreal, just as Shane Hollander is named captain." love the shane&scott dynamic here, and how beautifully grounded in montreal this work is. #bringcanadianaintoficmore2026. perhaps more scott-focused than the avg person HR fan is into though just a heads up. wip
when you leave here: shane grapples with his juniors hockey experience in the wake of a former teammate opening up to the media. very we breed lions inspired. completed
falling into you: shane stays through the tuna-melt-debacle and he and ilya collapse into schrödingers boyfriends in the following months. completed ha collapse get it (yes ik its the other way around)
Lookout Kid: "Ilya inherits a surly grief-stricken nine year-old and has to figure out how to fit him into their lives.". wip
Empty Net Goal: shortly after tuna-melt, a woman serves shane seeking "unspecified damages after the establishment of paternity". but–it's not what you think. great premise and i love the ecosystem around shane depicted here. wip
something in the movies: "Post-cottage. Shane gets into an disagreement with his mom."character study, completed
paper lanterns, one after another: "It occurs to Ilya that he doesn't belong here. But then, this is a necessary migration.", completed
good bones: "Yuna thinks that if her baby could talk, he would have a lot to tell her. Perhaps he already has opinions on her parenting." , shane growing up through yuna's eyes, completed
periphery : shane’s adventures through the dreams of the ones he loves and the ones he will love, wip
Biscuits In The Basket: “Shane Hollander learns there are both pros and cons to accidentally adopting a kitten with your situationship”, so sweet so hot i’m obsessed, completed
Future, In The Abstract: “Shane abso-fucking-lutely had not informed anybody on the Voyageurs staff that he was an omega or, what the fuck, given permission for them to make decisions about his contraceptive methods” the omega verse fic i’ve been searching for. completed
prairie madness: "The 2008 World Junior Hockey Championships are hosted in Regina, Saskatchewan, a place with absolutely fucking nothing to do. Ilya and Shane find themelves in each other's company, trying to pass the time.", completed
all sins' day: "In which the secret-keeping in the Hollander family is sort-of generational." really liked this yuna character study and the preceding svetlana one!, completed
precipice: in the aftermath of ilya's death, shane and svetlana finally get to meet. "(inspired by the tumblr post that says 'in a way grief sex is like having a threesome with a ghost')", completed
Game Day: "On June 24th, 2022, during game seven of the Stanley Cup finals, Ilya Rozanov takes a skate blade to the thigh and bleeds out on the ice. The next morning, Shane wakes up in his husband's arms. It's June 24th again, and Ilya is still alive. Now Shane just needs to figure out how to keep him that way." a excellent time loop fic, completed
a year safe in your heart: "The summer before Ilya joins the Centaurs, Shane wakes up nervous. It doesn't stop from there." the fic that inspired Game Day and put me in a fugue state at my morning shift. really really gripped me. completed
take it from the top of the morning: another time loop fic (i am nothing if not predictable) that traps shane within the day of the episode 4 club montage. currently a wip but reading just the first chapter as the complete piece is also a really great if not kind of grim experience
get gone: shane grapples with life in the public eye post "HEA", completed
Clean Sweep: "Canon-divergent AU set during the 2017-18 MLH season. Shane Hollander doesn’t have a single Cup to his name when he meets a very hot and very annoying janitor who works at the Metros stadium." such an incredibly endearing ilya #myfiretruck of all time, completed
this year's wine: "When Boston realize Ilya wants out, they send him to the highest bidder. The highest bidder is LA." like everything from this authot, really really really good. completed
raise my heart rate: "Technically, Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander meet at a club. The gun shot wound is a bit of a mood-killer, but I'm sure they'll make it work." hockey player ilya x paramedic shane, very cute, much cheerier than this piece of the summary suggests, wip
Dance Yrself Clean: "Two summers, nine years apart, and the changes they bring." ilya on devotion, rlly good, completed
popadanets: "For his whole life, Shane has struggled to stay in one time and place. His moments fall like rain around him as he lives in the past, the present, and the future, all at once and then back again.", completed
how magnetic it draws: tuna meltdown canon divergence that sends them down the longer road, lovee #theirtorment, completed
bull in the heather: "Shane never had any vices until he met Ilya Rozanov.", completed
his sugar baby, his sour coach, his jock bro lady macbeth: "Shane and Ilya collide on the ice in 2008, and Shane's career is over before it begins. In 2014, when they meet each other in a club in Boston, Ilya wants to make it up to him." what a beautiful wonderful shane. may he find a absurd life crisis in every universe, completed
all the dishes intact: "Shane liked The Centaurs. He really did." for those unsatisfied with the HEA of The Long Game. obviously has been recced everywhere but i couldn't resist. completed
Vessel: "Eleven years ago, a total psychopath walked into a bar, onto a wharf, and all over Captain Shane Hollander’s life. And then he did it again, and again." gorgeous. completed
future tense: "Ilya could have done anything then. Said he needed sleep. Gone to kiss Shane where the hoodie string had left an imprint across one cheek. It wasn't a free day for Shane. At best they had an hour. Instead he said, without any conscious thought at all: 'How did he fuck you?"'the most godawful communication you've ever seen, i love them. completed
Memories burn like a forest fire: "'Shane,” the boy said with a sob, wrapping his arms around Shane’s middle and shoving his face into his stomach. “Where is mama?”' ouch and i mean it, wip
there are like millions more that i will add once i remember them
updated: 7/27/2026
The Heir's Second Love
Baelor Targaryen X F!Reader
Summary: The moment Baelor sets his sight on you, he cannot look away.
Word Count: 7.5K
Warnings: SMUT, afab reader, age gap (reader around early 20s), baelor is down bad and he makes you his wife, this is kinda romancey before the filth, fingering, oral (f!receiving) he's a munch, piv, lil bit of manhandling, praise, breeding kink, creampie, swearing, pentames, marriage, not plot heavy, if I've missed anything lmk??
Author's Note: MINORS DNI!! hello besties, heheh I hope you enjoy! ugh I could watch him play with his rings all day. lmk what you think, any comments, reblogs and feedback are really appreciated - thank you <3
Hesitant in remarrying after his Wife’s passing, Baelor underestimated just how fast he would fall for you. Utterly and irrevocably.
The Heir to the Iron Throne was under a tremendous weight of pressure to marry again, weighing him down for many moons until he met you, a new lady at Court in King’s Landing.
At your young age, but years into blossoming womanhood, your parents had sent you to the Red Keep to find yourself a match and secure a noble alliance with a larger House. Your house was much smaller than the Lions, Stags, Wolves, Roses and so on.
They had expectations that perhaps an Arryn or Fossoway would suit you nicely, a benefitted match joining your smaller House with a greater noble House.
What they did not expect however, was to receive a raven delivered scroll from the Hand of the King just one moons turn after your departure stating that you were to now be a Princess of Westeros, future Queen and Wife to Baelor ‘Breakspear’ Targaryen himself.
Baelor was taken aback upon noticing your presence within the Keep for the very first time.
His daily duties had him stretched thin on top of the strain in which the Small Council befitted him. ‘An Heir and Spare’ they say. The Crown Prince already fathered two sons but he understood the importance of securing his line’s succession. The King was ill. Anything could befall his beloved sons at any moment, living in this world of violence, sickness and sorcery.
Fretting over decisions for the good of the realm and House Targaryen, he found himself seeking respite within the gardens of the Red Keep. Leaves rustled against the cooling breeze on this hot day. Birds were chirping soundly and the florals flourished after drinking in the sunlight.
Exhaling slowly, Baelor felt relief within his solitude as he strode through the gardens until he reached the Godswood. It was quiet. Nobody else in sight.
And then he spotted you.
Back against the hard bark of the Heart Tree, your focus was etched into the words of the small, leather-binded book between your smooth hands. Your skirts fanned around you and your skin glistened with a sheen of sweat from the heat.
Baelor’s steps fell short, eyeing you. He did not recognise you.
Lost in a daze of the story before you, your features contorted endearingly at whatever was progressing within the pages. Humming in seeming frustration you snapped the book shut, mumbling to yourself, “Why ought he do so? What a cumberworld!”
Finding the corners of his mouth twitch up, Baelor realised he had been staring for more than a moment necessary. Walking closer, your head lifted to his direction, catching his movement.
Embarrassment rushed through your veins as you scrambled to stand, book still in one hand and fluffing your skirts out with the other, upon noticing the zinc alloy Hand Of The King Pin secured onto the man before you. The pin twisted up in scaly plates which the sun reflected off.
Curtseying before him, he noticed the way your plump lips quivered as you spoke.
“Your Grace.”
Soft and subdued, your voice was calming in his ears. He hadn’t stopped smiling, he realised. The closer you drew, the closer he could see every feature of your face. Young, seemingly Valarr’s age and filled with unyielding beauty.
Whichever Lord in the Red Keep had claimed you for his Wife was very lucky indeed, he thought.
“My Lady,” Baelor returned, nodding his head in greeting. “I did not mean to disturb your reading.”
“Not at all, Your Grace,” you rushed out, worried. “I apologise if I have halted your intentions here.”
Baelor could not help but let his mixed gaze linger on you. His eyes were shining against the sunlight as he took you in. One iris so bright blue it reminded you of the Sapphire Isle waters and the other iris so darkly brown that you felt yourself becoming lost in it. The hairs on the back of your neck raised under his watch.
“I came to seek some respite, it has been a busy day.”
You noticed the way his brows pinched together slightly, recalling his troubles. “I will take my leave and let you seek what you need then, Your Grace.”
He wished that you had stayed, a fresh breath amongst his chaotic air.
The second time that the Crown Prince saw you was at a feast hosted in the throne room of the Red Keep. He watched you with intrigue, a young lady trying to navigate her way around the nobles with a visible nervousness through your soft smile as you gently conversed amongst the Lords and Ladies. He thought he had never seen anybody so gorgeous and radiant before. Your features struck him to the core and he could not deny the pull towards you.
Baelor leaned further into his seat comfortably, turning slightly to reach his youngest brother’s ear. “Who is she?” He nodded towards your direction and you instantly stood out in your light pastel coloured gown amongst the dark fabrics of those surrounding.
Maekar’s eyes drifted to where Baelor motioned and he hummed shortly.
“How the fuck would I know? There are always new, young ladies in Court ready to pass their maidenhood to whichever lord gives them attention first. You should know,” Maekar smirked slightly, a knowing glint in his eye.
Baelor only chuckled lightly before stating, “you know none of those ladies have captured my attention, Brother.”
He mulled over whether you were already wed.
Many noble ladies had practically been throwing themselves at Baelor these past few moons, since it became aware amongst the people of Court that he was being made to seek a new wife. Whether it was simply because they thought him handsome, thought him strong and brave or were after the titles that came with being his wife, he did not entertain any of it.
Always presenting themselves to him in tight, uncomfortably high pitched voices, decked out in the most outrageous jewels originating from Qarth and Myrish fabrics draped into gowns, their busts forcefully pushed too far up to reach their collarbones and waterfall of bootlicking compliments flowing towards him.
It had been years since his Wife’s passing and yet, he had not felt a single fraction of attraction or connection with anyone else since.
He settled back into his meal, eyes wandering over to your direction at any opportunity presented, watching you like a Dragon observing a lone sheep before making haste and devouring.
After dinner was had, the tables and seating arrangements were pushed aside by the Red Keep’s staff to make way for social enjoyment and dancing. The Prince of the Realm did not hesitate to approach you with long strides in his poised steps, eager to greet you again.
The group of nobles you were conversing with quickly came to a silence, much to your confusion. You followed their stares which were lingering behind you and slowly tilted your head around to see what had made your peers' words stop.
The Heir to the Iron Throne stood before you, posture straight, yet relaxed. His look was transfixing.
“Y-Your Grace.” Head bowing and body leaning to curtsey, your pulse began to thump through your figure as you lifted your gaze back up to meet him.
“May I have this next dance with you, my lady?” His vocals were deep, articulate and husk. He extended a hand, gracefully awaiting your response.
The group behind you broke out into small gasps. The Heir to the Iron Throne was not known to dabble in such activities since his late wife, no matter how many ladies attempted to be in this very position, which you were blissfully unaware of - being new to Court.
“Of course, Your Grace.” You were in no position to deny the Crown Prince. Your small, smooth hand lifted to meet his extended one with a flush of heat rising to your cheeks. You had certainly not expected this.
He smiled slightly at your bashfulness, large hand taking in the warmth of your smaller one as his thumb moved over your knuckles whilst escorting you in small steps towards the centre of the throne room.
All eyes were burning into you both and you couldn’t help but shake at the unexpected attention. You were far from used to many a people watching your every move.
Baelor felt the tremble of your hand in his and quietly rubbed his thumb gently across your knuckles in an attempt to soothe your uneasiness. Your heart felt like it was going to leap out of your chest.
“No need to fret, my lady.” He began lightly, “I simply wished for an opportunity to speak with you upon seeing your beautiful self.”
His kind words had triggered fluttering within your belly. “T-thank you, Your Grace. How kind of you to say.”
“May I?” He requested permission, motioning with his spare hand, to take hold of your waist. Ever the gentleman.
You nodded lightly, shivering as his arm slithered around your middle, effectively pulling you towards him whilst he raised your already connected hands into the air. His brawny body loomed over you and your chest was near bouncing against him due to your rapid heartbeat. It took all his strength and honour not to look down.
“Do tell me your name, my lady.” He spoke with a smooth, low voice, calming against the hustle of the throne room and others dancing around you to the flow of the music.
Your smooth, youthful skin glowed against the candlelight and his blue and brown crinkled eyes locked with yours deeply as he began to sway with you to the instrumentals reverberating through the Crown Hall.
Your name and House rolled off your tongue as you waited for the visible disappointment to reach his handsome, bearded face. But it never came. And you were surprised.
His heterochromic eyes only twinkled in the flames of the candles situated above on the chandeliers whilst he gazed at you through his dark lashes and you thought him to be strikingly alluring.
Many noble lords attempt to court you until they came to realise the lower level which your House remained at. Men were greedy, power hungry and title seeking. Pretty enough or not, if you were a lady of noble birth who sat lower than the great house of Westeros, many higher Lords would brush you off as if being a common whore.
But Baelor only smiled at you as if your lower status was of unimportance to him.
He recalls the exchange of scrolls with your father, the request to send you here in order to secure a match in marriage. After many moons of pressure from the small council, it seems like The Seven had sent you straight to him.
“Why?” You suddenly asked him with your tender lips pursing plumply and he so wondered what it would be like to lay his own on yours.
Baelor’s mouth moved into a questioning line, a little perplexed. “Regarding?”
“You have many higher noble women to choose from and share a dance with, Your Grace. Many ladies who would be suited better for you.” The hesitancy in your vocals only made Baelor pull you closer and speed up his pace with the increased beat of the music.
“My sweet lady,” he began with a light laugh. You flushed further at his words, becoming breathless amongst the ascending dance movements. “I am the Blood Of The Dragon, Hand of the King and Heir to my Father’s Throne. I have already provided future succession and hold the realm together through many allegiances. Nothing is of consequence to me at this point in my years of living. I have freedom to dance with who I please. And I wish to dance with you.”
Baelor sought you out every day within the Red Keep after that night. Your pretty face, soft voice and gentleness consumed him. He was wrapped up in your kindness, consideration, knowledge and the fanciful interests which you endeavored in.
When he was with you, the responsibilities, pressure and stress of ruling the realm in his Father’s stead seemed to all dissolve and disappear. When he was with you, he did not feel like a Crown Prince of the realm, but simply a man. A man adoring and growing to love a woman as sweet and precious as you were. A man who felt comfort with your presence, gentle and reassuring but inquisitive words.
He knew you were far younger and much more lacking in experience than him but that only spurred on his courting you. He liked being the first man to show and teach you new things that nobody else had before. He liked expanding your perspective on Westeros. And he liked watching you lose composure every time he caressed a part of your body with tender, considerate hands.
Being around you, he felt like a young man again. Excitement running through his veins, shared stolen touches and an unyielding yearning to have you in his arms and never let go.
Passion had sparked between you both and you couldn’t help but nervously reciprocate the Heir’s advances towards you.
Nobody had ever cherished and nurtured you so dearly and genuinely before. When you spoke of any concerns, something you held close to your heart or even just the events of your day, he did not just hear you. He listened to you. Acknowledging every syllable and thought to leave your pretty mouth.
He had begun to seek you out everywhere (much to the Council’s disarray who found their Hand gradually passing more of his duties onto them). From interrupting your daily tasks, library and embroidery lessons to interrupting late noon tea with the other court ladies to sweep you off to the Red Keep gardens for a walk with him. The ladies incessantly held their giggles and gossiping back until the Crown Prince whisked you away out of ear-shot.
Then came the gifts. Treasured jewellery from Essos. Silk gowns from Lys. Ancient books from his personal library within the Keep. And a new bouquet of flowers by the bedside in your chambers every single day when you returned to meet slumber.
After weeks of stolen touches, laughter, deep discussions, sly flirtations and a shared fondness for each other… Today, Baelor had something a little different planned for you both.
Large hand resting on the small of your back, he guided you towards the courtyard of the Red Keep. However, the usually bustly area was completely void of anybody. No members of the Royal Court. No goldcloaks, no Kingsguard following Baelor, and no serving staff were to be seen.
Walking through the halls, you drew closer and suspicion began to fill your senses. Not the bad type of suspicion but the type which had an excited knot forming in the pit of your stomach and made your heart flutter in anticipation.
“What have you arranged this evenfall, My Prince?” You couldn’t help but ask with a growing grin.
Seven Hells, how he loved it when you called him that. Yours. He wanted to be and terribly so.
“Something special for us, my sweet lady.” There was a certain lilt in his voice which indicated something important forthcoming and it made the knot in your stomach tighten.
Gods, how you loved it when he called you that. His sweet lady. It affected you just the same as the very first time he uttered those words to you.
Further down the halls you noticed soft flickering lights, shadows dancing across the stone walls and pillars.
A small gasp escaped your throat as you walked between the stone pillars of the courtyard.
Your right hand lifted to your heaving chest as emotion overwhelmed you from the sight before your eyes. Baelor quickly swerved to your left side, delicately swiping your left hand up into his right one. Your fingers intertwined and you squeezed around his large, rough palm. He squeezed back slightly harder, callouses catching on your smooth palm. A sign of nerves finally overcoming his typically well-composed self.
“This is ever so beautiful, truly.” You gaped at the sight before you and your heart was aflame. He had organised this, for you.
Flamed torches hung against the shaped pillars with candles littering around the floor besides a vast amount of bright, sweetly scented, blooming floral arrangements which created a pathway into the centre of the courtyard where a small table with two cushioned chairs remained.
A crystal flagon of wine sat atop the table next to two golden chalices, flower petals and a silver candle holder organised beside it with small plates of fruits, nuts, crackers and cheeses.
The tiny flames flickered around the flowers on the tiled, flower covered floor, mimicking the shining stars above.
“I know.” Baelor’s affectionate gaze did not leave you as you gushed over and complimented the scene. He smiled and gestured towards the centre, “please sit, my dearest.”
His dearest. Your mind was starting to whirl. You obeyed his instruction, hand never leaving his and pulling him along to follow.
Baelor had the Kingsguard positioned further down each of the halls, under strict instruction to block entry way to the courtyard with no exceptions. He did not want any disturbances.
After three cups of Arbour Gold, nibbling from the placed plates, various topics of conversation, flirtatious remarks and laughs, your head felt tipsy and your heart was thrumming ecstatically.
Comfortably perched on the cushioned seat, your gaze drifted towards the dark night sky, floating across the beam of the moon and the twinkle of the stars.
“I have never felt so at ease and appreciated with you.” You admitted through hazy eyes, still admiring the night above.
“And I, you.” He returned with a small smile, mouth opening to speak further but his words became caught in his throat.
Hearing the hesitation, your gaze drifted back down to meet his and you smiled softly. “What else, My Prince?”
Pausing for a moment, Baelor contemplated his next words. He had spent many late nights in his chambers, preparing for this moment and all of those practiced speeches and words relented as soon as he saw the way you peered at him. So lovingly. So wholly. Like you didn’t see him for all his titles but just him, Baelor, alone.
“I never thought…” he drifted off in thought before straightening his posture to gaze into your orbs. “I never thought that I would be able to find affection with another, after Jena. But you, My sweet Lady, have brought life back into my withered heart. Since I laid my eyes on you for the very first time, I knew that I had to know you. And knowing you now, my heart has never felt so full.”
“Baelor,” his name was whispered breathlessly on your lips and it clung to him, seeping into his bloodstream. You had never used his first name before. He took it as a good sign. Titles and societal boundaries diminished in seconds.
“My dearest, I fear that I can no longer live as I do without you by my side. Without you as my future Queen. The realm is in need of your gentleness and empathetic views. And I am in need of your love. I am pining for you and you alone. There is no one else that I wish to spend the remainder of my life with.” He confessed, bearing his heart on his sleeve. His mix coloured eyes were glistening, tears on the edge of his lash line whilst your own tears already spilled.
Hot on your cheeks and head dizzy from the golden wine, you carefully lifted your fingers to wipe away the wet saltiness.
Before you could respond, the Crown Prince had maneuvered to the floor on his knees and reached to envelop your hands in his. As he rested on his knees before you, tenderly gripping your hands, you smiled through your overwhelming tears of love and devotion.
Bringing your hands to meet his mouth, his smooth, warm lips pressed against each of your palms in a kiss. “Be mine,” he pleaded, looking into your crying eyes. “Be my Wife.”
“Yes.” You laughed lightly, gripping his hands tightly, “and be my Husband.”
The realm was full of delight and celebration.
At first, upon your betrothal announcement to the Heir to the Iron Throne, there had been some uncertainty from the Small Council.
“She is not from a well-known noble House, Your Grace.”
“The Smallfolk here do not know of her, Your Grace.”
“She is not of a strong bloodline, Your Grace.”
“Her dowry is little, Your Grace.”
Baelor did not care. “I have sacrificed much for this realm. There is little consequence in whom I marry now. I have already provided two healthy heirs and there will be more now, as you all requested. Speak ill of my betrothed and you will find your tongues missing the next morn.”
After that, the Small Council became ever gracious towards you. As did the Court, upon hearing that the Crown Prince would cut out the tongues of any bad word against you - not that there was many from your noble peers.
You were kind, playful and clever. The Court had taken a liking to you upon your arrival.
And soon, the wedding ceremony followed. It was a lavish celebration. Baelor never left your side despite the hounds of nobles trying to converse with him, to which he politely dismissed them wanting all of his focus on you. His bride.
There were performances, celebratory activities, dancing and a great feast following your martial vows in The Sept. Lords and Ladies alike travelled from all across the realm to attend the Crown Prince’s second wedding, and to see if his youthful bride was truly as beautiful and kind as claimed.
“Time for the bedding!” A drunken, foolish lord from the Iron Islands shouted out late into the night, amongst the celebrations. The crowds roared with enthusiasm, eager to see the Crown Prince bed his new, young and beautiful Wife. The realm’s new Princess.
Your happy expression fell as the words reached your ears. Lips turning downward into a worried pout as you looked up at your new Husband.
This was something you had not considered with much thought. Being from a small House, the bedding ceremony’s importance was not that of the greater noble Houses. And with Baelor already having been married perviously, the thought of a public bedding ceremony was resting at the very back of your mind. You suppose that was very silly of yourself now.
“Husband, I-I-” you were at a loss for words.
Shaking his head, you had never seen such a fury rise within Baelor. “I will not let any man lay their eyes upon you in such a manner,” he reassured you, taking your hand tightly in his. The cool metal of his rings provides a grounding sensation amongst the chaos and his words calmed your rapid heartbeat.
The Grand Maester approached you both, slyly leaning over to His Grace’s ear. “Shall we prepare your chambers, Your Grace?”
“No,” Baelor gritted out in frustration. “We shall not.”
“But I do think it wise-”
“Rest assured, Grand Maester,” Baelor cut him off, “there will be proof of consummation in nine moons time.”
Swallowing at your beloved’s words, a foreign heat rushed to your core as you clutched Baelor’s strong hand.
And so, your new Husband whisked you away between the crowds of royals and nobles after ordering the Kingsguard to prevent any persons from following you both to your newly shared marital chambers.
Being the epitome of chivalry and justice, Baelor had never once pressed his lips to yours during his time courting you. He knew that your young maidenhood was untouched, no man ever claiming you in such a way before. He hadn’t even attempted to steal a kiss from you no matter how dearly he wished to, especially when he confessed his feelings and asked for your hand. He hadn’t even enlightened you when you leaned into him like you desperately wanted it too.
The door to Baelor’s chambers slammed shut and suddenly you were pushed against it. The hard wood met your back, a harsh gasp left your throat in surprise and all honour left your husband. Baelor was a starved man, itching to feel every inch of you.
His large hand gripped the side of your face, resting on your jaw, fingers peaking between your styled hair at the back of your neck. The contact was so sudden, all air left your lungs as his other hand grasped at your waist, kneading through the fabric as he held you in place.
“My Prince,” you blurted in shock, gazing at his lustful expression. His scent filled your senses, fresh mint, burnt wood and something sweeter surrounded you.
The hair of his beard tickled your face as he drew closer and finally, after weeks of wondering what it would be like, he pressed his mouth to yours.
It was tender, delicate and warm. Your arms snaked up to reach his covered shoulders, pulling him closer whilst you were melting into him.
His tongue dipped out slowly, wet and spongy against your untainted lips, begging for an entrance. Parting your lips under his ask, you began to move yours against his, following your natural instinct as he started to explore your mouth and move with you.
You couldn't help the gentle moan which vibrated onto him. The Dragon had set you alight with his flame and you wanted more.
“Seven Hells,” he grunted against your lips as he reluctantly departed, catching his breath. “The Gods have known how long I have waited to do this.”
“You’re not the only one.” With fluttering eyelashes, you slowly pushed him back further into the room and his grasp on you loosened, allowing you to move him in the direction of the giant four-postered bed.
His lips curled up at your movements and implication. Tonight you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.
“Lay down, Husband.”
Baelor felt like combusting at your command. Blood rushing to his cock, his breeches tightened whilst he sat on the edge of the plush bed to lay back.
You approached him with a sultry look which he hadn’t seen on you before and you shifted your heavy skirts up, knees finding the padded mattress as you moved to straddle him.
“Fuck.” The word left his mouth as he took in the sight of you climbing over him until your pelvis met his. He groaned at the weight of you pressed against his hardening length.
You rested both hands beside his head whilst his large hands dipped under your skirts to caress your smooth, soft thighs. Whimpering slightly at the new feeling of his touch, you leaned down to meet his mouth with yours again.
You may have been a maiden but some of the Ladies you spent time with at Court were not shy about discussing their marital beds. And you listened, learning things which you did not think possible, with Baelor in mind. You expected that a man of his age had expectations and you wanted to impress him. To show him how much you wanted it too.
But you knew him. He was your Baelor. And you knew that he would not fret over the skills and movements you had yet to learn to please him.
His lips were hot against yours, mouth moving hungrily and eagerly tasting you. His hands slowly reaching over the warmth of your thighs to grip your hips tightly and push you onto him.
Moaning at the hardness and sudden friction, your hips jolted at the contact, causing Baelor to grunt. He was painfully hard now, a wetness seeping into his breeches from his leaking tip. It feels like he has waited his whole life to see you like this.
“Grind your hips onto me,” Baelor directed between kisses and you obeyed, small whines escaping you whilst you moved your clothed heat over his hardness.
Calloused hands moving round to cup your arse, he kneaded the flesh, enticing a breathy moan from you. His touch felt passionate and needy and you wanted more, an ache growing deep within your core.
“Just like that, My sweet Lady. My sweet Wife.”
“I-I want more,” you pleaded as he grabbed your cheeks harder, a soft smack making you gasp at the slight sting it left behind.
Before you could process anything else from being too wrapped up in these new heightened feelings, his arms left your skirts, quickly grabbing your torso and flipping you around.
You hit the bed with a quiet bounce, panting as you watched the Crown Prince top you before sinking lower and leaning off the edge of the bed. Your brows furrowed in confusion as he was on the floor leaning on his knees but his strong hands quickly distracted you, wrapping around your ankles, pulling you to the edge - you let out a small squeak in surprise.
“Lift your hips for me,” he ordered, reaching for the thin fabric of your smallclothes and swiftly pulling them down your legs as you complied.
“Oh,” he muttered airless, taking in the sight of you. Heat rose to your cheeks and you bashfully tried to snap your legs shut, never having anybody see you like this before. He only gripped your thighs tightly, pulling you open again to offer your hot, weeping, slick cunt before him. “Gods be good.”
Heat rushed through your body as Baelor took in the sight of your spread legs, tongue darting out of his mouth to lick his lips.
“Do you trust me?” He asked, gazing at you with passion and need burning in his blue and brown eyes.
“Of course,” you spoke earnestly, awaiting his next move.
Lifting his arm, his long, strong fingers moved towards your sopping heat. Slowly, he dragged his index from your wet hole up to your bundle of nerves and you shuddered pleasantly.
“I have barely touched you and you’re already dripping for me, sweet girl.” The low, measured tone of his vocals nearly made you squirm in embarrassment. Was that not normal?
“I-I’m sorry, Y-your Grace.” You fumbled to apologise, not knowing any different, having not laid with a man before.
“No, no, My Wife. And no more royal formalities. You are perfect,” he hummed, rubbing soothing circles on your inner thigh which made you keen. “Let me show you how perfect.”
Baelor had dreamt of this moment, eager to please and devour you, and he shifted your legs so that they rested over his shoulders. His breath was hot on your inner thighs whilst his wet tongue stuck out to drag along your skin, his beard scratchy, making you tingle at the contrast.
A soft whine escaped you, not that you were complaining but you couldn’t help the curiosity that was consuming you. You instantly felt nerves rise within, he knew exactly what he was doing… and you did not. He had done this before and you were lacking.
The ladies at Court had never mentioned their Husband’s head between their thighs.
“What are you doing, Husband?”
A smirk filled his features as his tongue licked up your thigh, leaving a wet trail before responding, “showing you how much I have desired to have you like this.”
As soon as those words left his mouth, his head was swiftly buried in your heat, hot tongue licking up your slit as he groaned, effectively tasting your juices. You expelled a guttural moan, back arching and hands finding their way to grip his short, soft hair. The heat of his tongue licking up your sweet, dripping folds was sensational.
Baelor was aching hard whilst his mouth worked on your soaked cunt, dipping his tongue into your entrance, he had you chanting his name like a sorcerer casting spells.
“Baelor, oh Gods! Mhmmm! B-Baelor, please!” The soft scratching of his beard made his tongue feel all the more euphoric and you never thought it was possible to feel such a way. You clung to his head harder.
He lathered your sweet pussy with his spit, having drunk every drip of you and quickly pulled away, much to your dismay. After a beat, his fingers were back at your heat again and you mewled when his middle finger slowly slipped into you.
“That’s it sweet girl,” he panted, drawling, beginning to work his finger in and out of your wet, velvety walls, “you’ll take what I give you. I need to make sure you’re able to take my cock.”
His words hit your core and you clenched around him, gasping for air. The feeling of his finger curling inside you was doubled as he added another digit and your moans filtered through the air with the squelch of your wet folds as you adjusted to the intrusion.
Baelor continued to pleasure you with his fingers, mouth eventually coming back down to meet your mound with his tongue latching onto that sensitive bud of yours. His fingers curled up, hitting a specific spot within and you threw your head back, relishing in his touch and tongue flicking your bundle of nerves. Your eyes flutter shut, hands finding their way back to his dark, greying hair, pulling him closer to your core, wanting more.
“I never want to taste anything else again,” he mumbled against you, lavishing in your wetness.
Baelor let out breathy groans as you clung to him harder, the vibrations shooting straight against your throbbing heat. Ever so tenderly, he began to spread his fingers inside of you, scissoring you open. Your moans halted slightly as you tried to accommodate the foreign feeling of being stretched open.
His eyes drifted up to you in concern whilst his fingers continued to open your tightness. His length was throbbing in his breeches, begging to be buried deep within your pure pussy, but your discomfort made him pause.
His mouth retracted from your core, gaze drifting over your breathless form. You peered down at the lack of movement, catching your breath. His mouth was covered in your slick, coating his beard and it stirred something within you.
“Please do not stop,” you begged through heavy lids, lashes fluttering against your hot cheeks. “I need you desperately Baelor, I need you deep inside me,” you confessed, giving way to your carnal desires.
And that was all he needed to continue his actions, pumping in and out of you slowly, spreading his fingers within your wet walls as his lips connected with your clit again, sucking your bud until you saw stars. A pleasurable tightness in your lower region, building up so intensely that you thought you might faint.
Your breathy cries of pleasure filled his ears whilst he increased the pace of his fingers, feeling you clench around him.
“Husband,” your voice croaked through moans as you arched your back and pushed your hips up to meet his face. “I-I’m feeling so-”
And then Baelor went harder, sucking your bud whilst flicking it with his tongue, his strong fingers curling up in you so deliciously and repeatedly that you suddenly screamed out, reaching a heightened peak of consuming pleasure.
Waves of pleasure washed over you and tingles spread throughout your body, your soaked cunt throbbing as you leaked all over the Crown Prince’s face and he groaned against you in appreciation, drinking you up and slowing his movements as you came down from your high.
“What the fuck was that?” You murmured, chest heaving in blind euphoria.
Baelor chuckled, slightly shocked at the bad word rolling off your pretty lips, raising his arm to wipe the remnants of you from his mouth and glistening, thick beard.
“That, was the first of many, My sweet Wife.”
He began unbuttoning his doublet as you lay there breathless, stripping the top layers of the expensive materials cut to fit him seamlessly. Despite his older age, Baelor was extremely muscular and his skin was taught around his arms and abdomen until the slight pudge of his lower belly poked out. And it aroused you. Muscular with a soft stomach. He looked like he had been carefully curated by The Seven, themselves.
“Can you manage to stand, My Love? I wish to see all of the beauty that you bare.”
Shifting onto your elbows you pushed yourself up gradually, body still reeling over the new sensations that you just experienced. Baelor’s hands went out to guide and support you. Your legs were shaking as you stood before him and he pressed his lips against yours hungrily.
You could taste yourself on him and you whined when his tongue mixed with yours. His arms wrapped around you, fingers untying the laces at the back of your dress which held it together. Soon after undoing the lacing, he parted, hastily pulled your dress down, lifting you out of it to leave you in one last layer. A thin cotton underdress.
The torch flames within Baelor’s chambers illuminated your every curve through the fabric and he groaned deeply, “I need you, sweet girl.”
Before you knew it, you were stark naked, sprawled out onto the bed with your head beneath the plush pillows as his mouth worked on your breasts, sucking gently and kissing your hardened nipples. Massaging you with his hands, he was drunk on your satisfied moans and tender hands gripping his sturdy shoulders.
Baelor’s hot skin was pressed flush against yours and it felt incredible.
“You were sent to me from the Gods, I have no doubt,” he confessed, worshipping your body. “The most beautiful woman to grace this Realm.”
“I love you,” the words tumbled from your lips and he abandoned your breasts to kiss you feverishly, uttering the same words back to you between kisses.
“I want your cock to fill me up, dear Husband.”
Baelor’s self restraint exited his body at your crass words, his leaking tip aching and wishing nothing more than to dive into your soaked, warm depths.
Immediately, he was rid of his breeches, letting his long, girthy cock spring free to hit his belly before he was back on you, hot mouth attached to your neck, sucking on the sweetest spot which made you mewl.
“I-is it supposed to be that big?” You asked nervously, through your pleasured moans.
“Not usually for other men.” He couldn’t help but grin into your neck. His sweet maiden. His sweet Wife.
Trailing his fingertips down the valley of your breasts, across your stomach and onto your mound, you trembled. The pad of his thumb found your sensitive bud and began drawing slow circles against you. You whined at the sensation, bucking your hips back into him as he laid between your legs.
“Please let me feel you already!” You were desperate to feel his body connect with yours.
“So needy,” he began, leaning back to take his length into his spare hand whilst his other continued to focus on your clit. “You’re going to take me so well.”
Spreading your legs wider to accommodate him with more room, your fingers fiddled with the silken bedsheets, watching his hand move along his cock before shifting closer to tap his swollen mushroom-shaped tip at your still soaking entrance.
“It may hurt at first,” his concerned, mix-coloured gaze never leaving yours as he continued, “do tell me to stop if it becomes too much.”
Heart swelling, you nodded gratefully.
He resumed his movements with his thumb on your bud as his cock head dragged between your folds, picking up your slick. The sensation caused a needy whine to escape your throat.
Baelor pressed forwards, his tip slipping into you and you hissed slightly at the sharp intrusion.
Slowly, he pulled back before sliding into you a bit further and you gasped, clutching the sheets tighter. He persisted slowly, rolling his hips back and forth, inch by inch, as you adjusted to his thick girth.
The circular motion of his thumb rubbing your nub provided the perfect relief of the tight stretch around his length.
You exhaled blissfully, and Baelor could not get enough of the sight before him. Your hair was sprawled out amongst the pillows, eyelashes fluttering, breasts bouncing slightly with each slow thrust he made whilst his cock was slowly delving further into your depths.
“Seven Hells,” he grunted at your tight, sopping maidenhood, “I am the luckiest man in Westeros.”
A smile reached your lips at his words until he was fully sheathed inside of you, the air leaving your lungs as you struggled to catch your breath at how deeply you felt him inside of you.
“S-So deep,” you babbled amongst moans as he began to roll his hips whilst setting and increasing his pace.
“You’re taking me so well,” he let out a guttural groan between thrusts whilst you creamed around his long, thick cock, “you were made for me, sweet girl.”
Soon enough, his cock was repeatedly bruising your womb, thrusting into you at an animalistic pace whilst your knees were hooked over his strong shoulders and your hands tightly gripped his muscular biceps at either side of you - nails digging into his flesh.
“Fuck,” Baelor grunted, thrusting into you deeper, harder, “I want to fill you with my seed.”
You cried out into moans as he hit a particularly deep, spongy spot inside. All you could do was lay helpless as he pleasured and fucked into your throbbing, drenched core.
Your pussy clenched tightly around him after his words and he noticed, a small smile appearing on his face as beads of sweat dripped from his forehead.
“Oh,” he chuckled lowly, voice rasping, “you like that? You want to be stuffed full with my dragon seed.”
“Y-yes!” Your mewls only increased with his pace and cock slamming into your womb. “Let me give you more heirs, My Prince.”
Baelor’s balls tightened as they slapped against your arse, his hips stuttering and he quickly disregarded one of your legs on his shoulder to strum the pad of his thumb against your clit again.
His groans of pleasure mixed with your moans and the wet slapping sounds of where you both connected filled the air shamelessly. The Court could not see your marital consummation but they would definitely hear it.
The same pleasurable tightness from earlier was returning, building up from deep within your core and your whines became louder.
“B-Baelor,” you gasped out, feeling him so deeply, as if his cock was in your throat. “I’m g-getting that feeling again.”
“Good,” he breathed heavily, “that means my seed will take and you will be swollen with my little dragon in time.”
Breasts bouncing rapidly from his unrelenting thrusts, the tip of his cock kissed the deepest spot within you and with the speed of his thumb on your sensitive nub - your body convulsed underneath him, shaking euphorically and tingling with utter bliss.
“That’s it, sweet girl.” He coaxed you through it. “My beautiful Wife. You’ve been so good for me.”
Screaming out his name as you reached that heightened sensation for the second time, you shook along with the waves that crashed over you whilst he continued to fuck you through it.
You moaned lightly, coming down from your heightened senses as you gazed at his agape face through heavy lashes. “Fill my cunt with your seed. Let me give you another dragon.”
Baelor’s pace quickened at your words, hips slamming into you whilst his cock pulsed inside your soft, clenching walls. Groaning deeply, his cock was nestled at your deepest point, spurts of hot white seed shot into your womb, rope after rope whilst his hips stuttered.
The thick wetness shot into you caused you to whine softly as he slowed, filling you with his dragon seed. He dripped out of your hole as he rolled his hips to a halt, still buried within you and head tilted back back in pleasure.
After a moment, he came to his own senses, warm hands carefully lifting your leg back down. Slowly, his thick length pulled away from your seed-filled cunt and you let out a whine at the loss, now feeling empty.
Baelor was breathless as he collapsed beside you, hand reaching for your own as he pressed a kiss to your damp shoulder.
“Are you well, dear Wife?” His voice emphasised concern for you after the abuse he thoroughly conducted to your maidenhood.
“Unbelievebly so,” you uttered, laughing lightly, despite the soreness around your core, chest still heaving. Your body was reeling over the pleasure you had just experienced.
Flipping onto his side, he now faced your naked form with a smile, lifting your connected hands to tenderly press a kiss to your knuckles.
“Maybe a daughter this time,” he suddenly spoke, fondness shining through his orbs. “There are too many sons in this family. She would be a fiery version of you with the Blood of the Dragon.”
You couldn’t help but giggle into the hot air, “hopefully not too fiery.”
Pulling your Husband back closer to crash on top of you, you locked your lips with his in a heated kiss.
tags; @you-need-namjesus @ildico-the-golden
Hello
my name is Aya, I am 26 years old, currently living in the northern part of Gaza City, and I am a mother of two children. My oldest is my daughter, Sana'a, who is 5 years old, and my youngest is my son, Wasfi, who is 3.
Since the morning of October 7th, 2023, our lives have been turned upside down. We have lived through the hardest days of our lives, facing displacement and homelessness. We have been forced to leave our home more than ten times since the war began. We would leave without knowing where to go.
We sought refuge in schools and relatives' homes, hoping we could return home and that this nightmare would end. But our house was bombed, and our dreams were destroyed. We became homeless and displaced.
Every day, we wake up to the sound of bombs and rockets. I lived in constant fear and terror with my children, especially when my family's house was bombed while we were taking shelter there.
We are experiencing a real famine in Gaza. I’ve gone to bed with my children many nights without dinner because there is no food available. We have had to eat animal and bird feed due to the high cost of flour just to fill the hunger of my young children. Even after eating it, we all suffered from diarrhea and severe stomach pain. My children developed rashes on their bodies due to the spread of viruses and the accumulation of garbage. There is also a severe shortage of water, and even when we find it, it's not safe to drink.
My children cry, asking for vegetables, fruits, and eggs, but we can’t afford them because we have no income. The gas shortage has forced us to use fire for everything—cooking and baking—using plastic and pipes because firewood is so hard to find.
My children also developed jaundice, and I struggled a lot to get them better because there was no access to vegetables, fruits, or medicine. I even feared that my son might have developed polio because he already had leg problems before the war, and they worsened due to malnutrition.
Winter is coming, and we have nothing for it. I need clothes and shoes for my children to keep them warm, but I can’t buy them because they are so expensive.
For this reason, I beg of you and hope that you can support me, even with the smallest contribution, so I can provide my children with the most basic necessities of life.
I was displaced with my children to my family's house, tears in my eyes. On the way, Salah Al-Din Street was bombed, and the Israeli occupation committed horrific massacres. By the grace of God, we survived for the first time. We lived in terror and fear. A few days later, my family's house was bombed, and we were pulled out from under the rubble, miraculously surviving for the second time.
When my husband heard the news that we had died, he came to bid us farewell, only to find us alive by God's grace. We returned with him, but as the situation worsened and the fire belts in our area increased, we started to flee again and again, not knowing where to go next.
I beg of you to share my story and help me continue to live.
✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #230 )✅️
Vetted by butterfly nu #1133