#ah tagging my old enemy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rhey-007 · 5 months

Text

Anger Harms Beauty

Lance Stroll x Alonso!reader

• | social media au / enemies to lovers

Summary: Your father setting you up for a horrible date with Lance, changed your both's indifference to a mutual hate. But when your inappropriate photos get leaked out the Canadian is first to defend and help you.

Warnings/Tags: female reader, fluff, mentions of revealing photos, toxic reader and Lance, mutual hate, enemies to lovers

A/N: I'm recently head over heels with Lance so you can expect more fics with him 🧍‍♀️ I also have a personal beef with his Vegas beard it's too much, the Brazil one was just perfect TwT

INSTAGRAM

lance_stroll just followed y/n._.alonso

y/n._.alonso just followed lance_stroll

INSTAGRAM

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, y/n._.alonso and 50,678 others

tagged: astonmartinf1, fernandoalo_oficial

•lance_stroll: Great weekend in Montreal! Thank you all! 💞

•fernandoalo_oficial: P3 and P7! We're rocking it!

•user1: can't believe Lance was P7...

•astonmartinf1: great performance from both drivers! Congrats! 👏🥳🎉

•y/n._.alonso: SHAVE OFF THAT GROSS DILL 🤢 you look older than my father and he's almost 50!

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: I'm not that old... :(

→ •y/n._.alonso: Lo siento papa 💞 (I'm sorry dad)

→ •lance_stroll: shave your armpits and then we can talk

→ •user2: Lance is savage 😮

→ •user3: that's more mean than savage

INSTAGRAM

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, lance_stroll and 45,923 others

•y/n._.alonso: 🥰🤤🍴

•fernandoalo_oficial: my baby should open a restaurant!!! 💞🤤

•user4: ah to be y/n and eat such delicious food whenever I want and still have a body of a goddess... TwT

•lance_stroll: you're gonna be fat if you eat all that

→ •y/n._.alonso: says a guy who eats the trashiest food ever

→ •lance_stroll: at least I work out and don't slump in bed 24/7

•bluebellhorner: best food I ate in like forever! 😍

→ •y/n._.alonso: thank you honey! 💞💞💞

•user5: I want to try it so bad 😭

INSTAGRAM

liked by y/n._.alonso, estebanocon and 763,213 others

•lance_stroll: just bought this beauty and I can't get over how amazing it is! 😍

•estebanocon: good for you buddy! The best car you own for sure! 💪

•logansargeant: what a pretty beast! when's my turn for a ride?

→ •lance_stroll: whenever you'd like :)

•y/n._.alonso: you should buy yourself a new face not a car

→ •lance_stroll: some's jealous daddy won't buy them one 🤭

→ •y/n._.alonso: I can buy it myself I don't need daddy's money... Not like someone 🤭👉👈

→ •user6: •lance_stroll you got shot with your own weapon! XD

•user7: I want this car so much 😩

→ •user8: maybe one day... 🥲

INSTAGRAM

liked by bluebellhorner, fernandoalo_oficial and 567,365 others

tagged: •yourbestie

•y/n._.alonso: gym day with my girlie •yourbestie 💪🥊

•user9: I want that body yadi 😭

→ •user10: we all want that body yadi 🥲

•lance_stroll: oh look who started to go to the gym, wonder why... 🤔

→ •y/n._.alonso: shut up, you wouldn't even take my dad in a fight

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: don't even bring me into that...

→ •user11: the father has had enough 😂

→ •user12: he's done with both of them

→ •user13: why do they keep fighting under every post???

•yourbestie: I'm not going to the gym with you anymore... I can't walk now... 🥲

→ •y/n._.alonso: love you too hihi 🤭💞

INSTAGRAM

liked by bluebellhorner, fernandoalo_oficial and 687,345 others

tagged: yourbestie

•y/n._.alonso: looking for a new boo 🤭💍

•yourbestie: great weekend so far! Can't wait for the rest! 😘

•user13: petition for y/n and bestie to adopt me as their new friend 🧍‍♀️🙋‍♀️

→ •user14: me too!

→ •logansargeant: I want too!

→ •user13: nu-uh, you would spy for Lance >:(

→ •logansargeant: 😔

•lance_stroll: You're not gonna find anyone there, too high level for you

→ •y/n._.alonso: you're ona a waaaay lower level than me 🙃

→ •lance_stroll: you wish

→ •y/n._.alonso: no. I know it 💅

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

liked by lance_stroll, fernandoalo_oficial and 789,324 others

tagged: lance_stroll

•y/n._.alonso: this guy... I can't 😭💞

Never thought he'll become the closest person for me in those hard times. He appeared in my apartment the same day those photos leaked out, arms stuffed with food, flower bouquets and a huuuge teddy bear plushie (I still have no idea how he managed to bring all those things upstairs in one go), ready to comfort me as long as I'd need it. •lance_stroll I'm sorry I was such a bitch, I love you 💞

And I withdraw my words that •fernandoalo_oficial has the worst taste in men. He knew way better than me from the start and I regret not giving Lance a second chance at the very beginning just as he suggested me to. I'm sorry dad, love you too 💞

•lance_stroll: I forgive you fatty ❤

→ •y/n._.alonso: don't even start or it'll end too soon -_-

→ •lance_stroll: sorry mami ❤

→ •user15: that is so cute I can't 😭💞

→ •user16: THEY ARE TOO CUTE KSXNDNBDJEJ

•fernandoalo_oficial: of course I was right 🧍‍♀️💅

→ •y/n._.alonso: Eres el mejor papa 💞 (you're the best dad)

→ •lance_stroll: •fernandoalo_oficial can I call you papa too now? :3

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: nope 🤨🧐

→ •lance_stroll: :(

•estebanocon: fucking finally! 🎉

→ •logansargeant: YEEES 💥💪 YOU GUYS SLAY

→ •yourbestie: stop...

•yourbestie: •lance_stroll our beef ain't ending here >:(

→ •lance_stroll: •y/n._.alonso❗ she's is threatening me again❗❗❗

→ •y/n._.alonso: don't even start... 🫥

→ •user17: AGAIN??? •yourbestie GURL WHAT DID YOU DO???

→ •yourbestie: 🤭💞

→ •user18: I bet she tried killing him more than once 😂

INSTAGRAM

#f1 #f1 fanfiction #fanfiction #female reader #formula 1 #formula one #fluff #lance stroll fluff #lance stroll #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll x you #lance stroll x y/n #social media #fernando alonso #hate comments

402 notes · View notes

tinandabin · 1 year

Text

Sagau but the reader is the ACTUAL creator part 3

Part 2 part 4

ngl, I was kind of scared to post this cause there were so many people to tag 😭😭

____

It's been what? 2 days? A week? Or perhaps a month without seeing you. The Vision Hunt Decree got stricter, they now used more violent methods to seize the vision under Ei's command. Ei hasn't left Plane Of Euthymia ever since she last heard your voice, all she does is meditate and drown herself in her sorrow.

Morax isolated himself, busying himself in the Wangshen Funeral Parlour, it is rare to see him even talk about Osmanthus wine now. He's trying his best to not think of you, but his mind just can't help but wander to your lovely face.

All Barbatos does is spend his time away at the tavern, drinking away till he no longer can. Drinking as much as he can so he can forget about his miserable life without you.

Oh, how long till they get to see you? Are you really doing all this for a mere mortal? Are they of such value to you? Would you place a mortal above them, your devoted acolytes? This is too cruel for their poor souls, they rather would die a hundred times, no, a thousand times than spend another second without seeing you. They can't live like this. They need you.

_____

"Um-uh, Your Grace, I was wondering if we could go to..Liyue? I would like to sight-see, if that is okay with you," The girl, whose name you found out is Revelyn, asked.

You found out that Revelyn doesn't really have any family, if she did then you would have returned her there. However, she grew up in an orphanage and then was left to fend for herself when she was old enough. You had even initiated the idea of her returning to the mortal realm, but she says she is too scared, for everyone probably hates her, I mean, they took their Divine Creator's attention away from them.

"Hesitate not dear, Seraphina will escort you," You replied, reading some documents and quickly filling out some slots.

Revelyn's body tensed up as she responded swiftly, "I was wondering whether you could come with me!" She ended with a loud huff, both of you surprised at her outburst.

"Oh, I do apologise; however I do not seem to have any free time today," You glanced at your clock and started to skim over the documents again.

"..I see, that's fine. We can go another day," Revelyn slowly got up and took her leave from your office.

Just as you were about to get up, you saw a letter settled neatly upon your desk. Opening it, you read it.

“Hello, Your Divinity, how are you? It has been quite a long time since I last saw you. You make me worried sick, I will not lie.

As for why I am contacting you, ever since you declared the punishment of the archons, Ei hasn't come out of Plane Of Euthymia and it looks like she is slipping into insanity.

As her familiar, it is my duty to make sure she is in her best state, no? I was perhaps hoping for you to end her punishment and we could also have some tea together.

Your Dearest,

Yae Miko ♡. ”

You settled the letter on a stack of books and smiled to yourself, noticing Yae Miko's little attempt to spend time with you. Oh well, you might as well amuse yourself.

That reminds you, didn't Revelyn want to go to Liyue? Let's hope she is fine heading to Inazuma. Inazuma sure is a beautiful place on its own, dangerous nonetheless.

Perhaps you have been too cruel on your acolytes? Ah, let's hope they learnt their lesson.

____

taglist: @shizunxie @dearloonies @iruiji @yani-dere @kiraisastay @fauxizs @salvationprodigy @thetruepair @lunalily19

do y'all like revelyn? I feel like making her the enemy somewhat. the archons vs revelyn who will win.

Masterlist

3K notes · View notes

deanbrainrotwritings · 4 months

Text

— SEMPITERNAL

SUMMARY : part II of gimme half. vanilla is a basic flavour. but sometimes it’s just the right thing for mornings like this.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), p in v, smut, unprotected sex, fluff

WORD COUNT : 2.2k

A/N : bring me the horizon song title. ah, the second day of January, getting closer to Dean’s bday, it will be the best day of my life or the worst. I have ocd (so does my mom) so idk what’s normal lmao Xxxx

It must have all been a dream.

She would never go to her neighbour’s house. Not when they were supposed to hate each other. Not when it was freezing cold. Not at night. Not close to Christmas…

He was very pretty though, in her dreams. Still, so pretty. Irresistible. Hot. Frustrating. Adorable. A million lovely things. It felt very real. So real.

His lips. All pink, warm, soft, and sweet. His hands. Rough, warm, calloused, and skilful. His skin. Freckled, covered in scars, tattooed, hot. God… she wanted that in reality, too. To feel it against every inch of her skin once more. She especially wanted what’s between his legs.

Were her sheets always this cold? This thin and… not downy at all?

If she could return to her dream. That would be nice. Making friends with her enemy, Dean… Well, making love is more what it was. Very rough, desperate, hot love.

She grumbled sleepily, lifting the sheet up her body. Trying to get her arms warm, to stop the cold from getting through the openings. Something stopped her, something hard behind her, and she didn’t want to wake up.

And wait… why was the window in the opposite direction?

She rubbed her bleary eyes and looked around the unfamiliar room, the beige and white bed sheets that were definitely not hers. The pictures and posters on the walls were unfamiliar…

She sat up on the bed slowly and twisted her body cautiously to peek at whoever was sleeping beside her.

Her eyes widened, her jaw dropped slightly.

Dean.

She shut her mouth and smiled, trying not to laugh at the events that occurred the night before. They were definitely not a dream. For her bravery, she deserved a treat. Maybe six.

He really did look pretty.

Those muscular arms holding his pillow, skin freckled and lightly tanned. The sheets clung tightly to his hips, that tiny, narrow waist of his. So jealous. And… oh, God, he wasn’t wearing anything.

His lips were parted slightly, pink and swollen from sleep, maybe from all the kissing they were doing the previous night. He had the prettiest lashes, so long, thick, curled naturally. What even was he? Those gorgeous freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks. His messy hair looked so soft.

Peaceful. Relaxed.

The sunlight made him look even more divine. Honey and gold, a verdant forest, a soft flower in a meadow. Springtime in the winter. That was Dean.

She looked around his room, she was completely naked. Some warm clothes and fluffy socks to keep the cold at bay would be nice.

She opened his drawer to look for some socks, sliding the top drawer out. She blinked at the contents inside. A vibrating cock ring stood out from the other things inside, in rose pink. She chuckled. There were a few candy wrappers, jolly ranchers, unused condoms in the front, a steel gun over books. Cute. There were old movie tickets, a Bob Seger cassette tape, Crime and Punishment, Persuasion, The Lord of the Rings, and 11/22/63. He’s so hot.

She closed it quietly and opened the second one. One half had perfectly folded, plain black t-shirts and the other half had only white t-shirts. She pulled out a black shirt from the top and put it on carefully. She took a deep breath of the scent of the softener that remained and sighed. Yum.

She opened the third and final one. Finally socks. They were neatly organised, folded, tightly fitting in rows and columns. Blue penguin socks caught her attention, but so did the pink ones with otters, the purple ones with avocados, and the green ones with giraffes. Could he get any more endearing?

She picked the boring black ones at the back. What if the fun socks were special to him?

She got out of his bed, walking quietly across his very cute bedroom, and into the bathroom. His very clean bathroom.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Thank God for the shower she took with Dean last night. No raccoon face from her eyeliner this morning. But she was definitely sore. Good sore.

He’s so… hospitable. And a billion other things, too many lovely things to list. She laughed quietly to herself, turning the water on in the sink to wash her face.

Maybe she shouldn’t get too ahead of herself with these thoughts and feelings. Last night was fast, blurry, heated, and emotional. Things could change, she knew that better than anyone. Morning clarity. After sex clarity? Who knows.

It would be impossible not to have marks over her body after the night they had. She turned the water off, gently shook her hands in the sink, and used the shirt to pat her face dry. Curiously, she kept the shirt up, and stared down at her body.

There were bruises on her hips the shape of his fingers. And Reddish-purplish marks on her breasts, sternum, and stomach, even higher up on her collarbone. There were bite marks on her shoulders that stung to touch-

“Sorry about those,” Dean’s raspy morning voice made her jump. She dropped the shirt and crossed her arms over her chest, smiling timidly at Dean. She didn’t know why. After the hot night they had together, being seen naked the next morning should be the last thing to make her this flustered.

“I’m not getting in the way of your secret escape, am I?” He changed the subject, teasingly smirking at her. He pushed himself off the doorframe. Unfortunately, he was wearing a soft grey robe tied loosely around his waist, some grey slippers, and his hair was a cute-slash-sexy mess.

“No…” she replied softly, running her fingers through her somewhat messy hair. It still felt wet… maybe she should have stopped Dean from throwing her into his bed after their shower, but he seemed more than thrilled to bury his face between her legs. God, that stubble on his jaw felt amazing between her sensitive thighs.

“Good,” he mumbled tiredly, smiling down at her.

He was irresistible. She could already feel heat forming between her legs, wetness seeping from her entrance, and her heart pound quickly in the casket of bones the closer he got.

Maybe it was those pretty green eyes of his, the burning fire in his gaze simmering deep within the golden specks. He checked her out from head to toe slowly, shamelessly, devouringly. Why would he have any shame after the night they had?

Her body reacted to him embarrassingly fast. Like two atoms, she ached to be fused together with him. Being in his presence just felt right. It felt fiery, more now than last night, more than when he was asleep. When he was asleep, he was more than adorable, but now… She wanted him on her again.

Her skin burned like acid rain had dripped down over her body, but it was just his hungry eyes. It was the memory of his mouth, his tongue, his lips, and his teeth. All marking her, making her his own.

Her lungs ached for slower, deeper breaths as he sucked the oxygen from the room with that deep, husky voice of his. He left her breathless, with those soft eyes and tender smile.

All he did was put toothpaste on the brush he gave her last night. He smiled when he gave it to her, his fingers brushed against hers, like jumpstarting the dead battery of a car.

She tried to hide the sharp inhale when she took the toothbrush from him by biting her lip. He seemed to like her reaction, a smile tugged at his lips, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to and neither did she.

She watched him do the same to his own toothbrush and slowly, wordlessly, he started to brush his teeth.

“Cute cock ring,” she told him casually, and began brushing her own teeth. He almost spit out the toothpaste and saliva when he laughed, a very beautiful laugh that made her insides warm and melty like cheese in a burger, or butter on pancakes, or whipped cream on waffles.

She was hungry.

“You looked through my stuff,” he stated, a mouthful of toothpaste still in his mouth. He continued to brush his teeth, staring at her the whole time rather than looking into the mirror. His eyes were sparkling, and not just because of the cold winter sunlight.

“I was cold,” she shrugged, then spit out what she had left before continuing to brush. He spit everything out at last, regarding her with a smirk.

“Guess I shoulda been a better host.” Dean finished brushing his teeth and she did soon after as well, waiting for him to finish freshening up from the doorframe.

“You more than made up for it last night,” she grinned, catching the smirk on his face, the sudden dreaminess that washed over his green eyes. Her insides twisted excitedly and he finally looked at her with those soft verdurous eyes.

“Are you still cold?” He teased when he finished, reaching for her waist and gently tugging her forward, and away from the doorway. She shook her head ‘no’ and smiled up at him. “Too bad,” he hummed, biting his lip. “You chose boring socks,” he pouted, then leaned down to kiss her.

She smiled against his lips. The kiss somehow felt more… warm than last night, and… well, like the birth of a star. Warmth bloomed in her chest, like a flower kissed by sunlight in the morning. It was like being reborn, like breathing the cleanest air.

“I was trying to be considerate,” she mumbled when he pulled away from her lips. He tilted his head with a confused smile, and moved her backwards, leading her back to his bed.

“Considerate?” Dean slowly lifted the shirt, his fingertips teasing her warm skin as he slid it up her body.

“Read my mind,” she whispered, throwing the clean shirt on his desk when it was around her wrists above her head.

“I don’t read minds,” he grinned down at her, pecking her lips. She hummed softly, amused just because he made her smile, and untied his robe. He humoured her anyway, staring at her as she climbed onto the bed, her soft hands moving up his torso slowly exploring, memorising, worshipping. “You… are so cute,” he teased, leaning forward to kiss her again.

She pressed her lips against his, moaning quietly against his mouth. She pushed the robe off his shoulders and he threw it over the small, sage-coloured sofa he had placed by the window that was opened to her house.

“That’s not reading my mind.” She buried her fingers in his hair and began crawling backwards, her warm tongue tracing his plump lips. He cursed softly against her mouth, kissing her back with as much force, and climbed up the bed with her.

“I told you,” he panted, lowering his body over hers once her head fell onto the pillows, “I don't read minds.” She pulled Dean down, closer to her, arms circled around his neck, legs parted for his hips to fit perfectly in between.

“I think you see through me,” she whispered, lapping at the red mark positioned on his pulse, making him moan softly. She couldn’t believe she felt insecure about it at first, but now, it was hot that he could read her, that he could figure her out in seconds. For however long he's been hunting, she had no doubt he was much more clever than he led on.

“You think wearing a pair of what might be my favourite socks will make me… sad?” He tried, barely moving away from her mouth. She snickered upon releasing how ridiculous it sounded out loud, she nodded anyway.

“I’d be upset,” she shrugged, sliding her hands down his back, his taut muscles shifting beneath her hands.

“Exactly why I said you’re cute,” he told her softly, rocking his hips against hers. She shook her head in denial, dragging her lips back up to his. His cock slid through her soaked folds, teasingly nudging her entrance, tortuously rubbing her clit. “You hungry?” He asked, leaning on one arm placed by her head.

“Dirty intent with that question?” She teased, nibbling his bottom lip. He laughed deeply, pressing his cock into her, slowly pushing in.

“Wanted to make ya breakfast,” he huffed, moaning with her when he pulled out gently and pushed back into her warmth. “So… breakfast?” His hand travelled freely down her sides, tenderly brushing against the bruises on her skin.

“Only if you’ll make me breakfast often,” she played quietly. With a husky moan, he slid his hands back up her sides, thumbing her sensitive nipples. He dropped his forehead to her shoulder, smiling at her words, the tightening of her walls around him taking him to the brink of delectable release and delirious insanity.

“Only if you’re mine,” he rasped, taking her wrist to slide his hand into hers, pressing it into the pillow, and above her head.

“Yes,” she whispered, squeezing his hand, slipping her other hand into his hair. He lifted his face to stare into her sincere gaze, brought his freehand between their bodies to rub circles on her clit.

“To breakfast or being mine?” Dean inquired, rolling his hips swiftly into her. She moaned and wrapped her legs around his waist, keeping him close, and drawing his lips closer with her hand clutching the short hair behind his head.

“Yes,” she murmured, drawing a soft laugh from him as she pressed a deep kiss to his warm lips.

➥ summer’s stellar gaze

taglist

@rominaszh @livingdeadmak @lanassmarty @murdockscumsock @zepskies @candy-coated-misery0731 @stxrgazer03 @epsilonsagittarii @lyarr24 @spnfamily-j2 @globetrotter28 @deansbbyx @lickmybawls @jackles010378 @winchstrdean @deanwinchestersgirl87 @the-achievementhunter @deanfreakingwinchester @k-slla @madzzz0797 @laylaackles @fanfic-n-tabulous @kristophalis @mrlonelycat @taylortots-world @evznackles @ohnosy @juicyballsworld

main masterlist

dean winchester masterlist

dean’s 45th birthday celebration masterlist

do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

#dean’s 45th birthday celebration #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x female!reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fanfiction

376 notes · View notes

ickadori · 4 months

Text

++ 𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐎

[summary] you accompany arlecchino to a business meal.

[cws] reader wears a dress but is otherwise gn. murder. short.

Arlecchino has never brought you along on her business trips before, and would have preferred to keep it that way, but you had been insistent on coming along, lamenting that she left you by your lonesome for far too long whenever she left on business.

You had fussed and moped and she had been took it in stride, planning on returning with a few jewels to join your vast collection, along with a few other trinkets you seemed to collect for the fun of it, but then you had begun to ignore her.

Her greetings were met with silence, her kisses met with unresponsive lips or a turn of your head, and you chose to stay on your side of the bed at night opposed to burrowing into her side as you normally did.

It was one the cruelest forms of torture she had seen — the withholding of your affections.

She caved very quickly after that, allowing you to come along as long as you followed one simple rule.

Never venture away from her side.

Arlecchino was a woman with many enemies. Even if her position as a Harbinger didn’t automatically make her hated by many, her own ways in which she handled others would have surely done so. There had been few attempts on her life, most people having enough self preservation to steer clear of her, but some people had been foolishly spurred on by the promise of insurmountable amounts of moral.

Those people had quickly found themselves with their heads in their laps, the lucky ones, anyways…the unlucky ones had been turned over to Dottore so he could further his knowledge on all the different ways to make a human writhe in agony.

While she never fretted about who may be lurking around corners and waiting for their chance to strike her down (a chance that she would never give them), she did fret when you were brought into the equation.

An attempt on her life was an inconsequential thing in terms of your own, and she didn’t want to find out just how badly she’d react if you were ever hurt, or worse, killed.

“As much as I love sitting around and watching two old men whisper back and forth,” you lowly start, a bored expression on your face as you turn to face her, “I’d much rather be doing something else.” Arlecchino takes a sip of her drink, black fingers a stark contrast to the porcelain teacup in her hand. “How much longer do we have to sit through this before they inevitably do whatever it is you want them to?”

“About two more cups full of tea, and possibly a desert.” You deflate. “Need I remind you that you were the one insistent on coming along?” She inclines her head in your direction, giving only a slither of her attention to the two men sat across from the both of you. They’re Fontaine’s top researchers, secrets that are unknown to many locked away in their minds, secrets that Arlecchino plans on getting, one way or another.

“That’s because I thought we’d be doing something interesting.” You stress, hands fiddling with the sleeves of your dress, and she gives you a leisurely once over, humming to herself as she appreciates the view. “Tartaglia has told me all about the things you get up to when I’m not around, and I wanted to see it for my own eyes.” Ah, so that’s what had brought on the sudden insistence that you tag along.

“You really shouldn’t listen to all the things that boy tells you. It’s highly dramatized.” You purse your lips, and just as you go to say something you’re cut off, one of the researchers -Nil, she believes- finally stopping his discussion with his partner and giving Arlecchino his attention.

“We talked it over and while we did find the offer to be mutually beneficial… collaborating with the Fatui is something that we just cannot do!” Nil raises his voice, and Arlecchino is glad that she chose to rent out the entirety of Hotel Debord. “We won’t deny that you’ve done your fair share of good deeds for the people of Fontaine, particularly the children, but that doesn’t excuse all the murdering, torturing, and brutalizing you’ve done!”

You bristle beside her, and she takes another sip of her tea as thrust a finger in their direction. “Excuse you! I suggest you watch your tone when you speak to her, you old, senile coot.” The man beside Nil chooses to be offended next, and Arlecchino places her teacup down.

“How unfortunate that we couldn’t come to an agreement.” All parties ignore her, and she has half a mind to see how long the three of you could argue back and forth before growing tired, but then an insult is being thrown your way, and your brows are furrowing as your eyes grow glassy and…

“Nil!”

The fire starts from within, and Arlecchino clasps her hands together as blisters begin to form on Nil’s skin, the blood inside his veins boiling. He’s only able to moan in pain, hands fruitlessly clawing at his skin in an attempt to quell the flames.

“What did you do!?” His partner screeches before grabbing the pitcher of water in the center of the table and dousing Nil in it - a valiant effort it was, but ultimately pointless. “Nil—Gods, what did you do?”

A shaky breath comes from beside her, and Arlecchino turns to see you watching the sight in awe, your hands splayed on the table as you take it all in with unblinking eyes.

“He insulted my fiancé, so he paid the price.” Your eyes dart to hers, and a heat completely different from the one emanating from the charring corpse swirls in her gut. “And a fair price it was, don’t you agree?”

You blink as if coming out of a daze, and your head slowly swivels toward her. There’s a mix of emotions swirling in your eyes, but she’s studied you long enough to be able to pinpoint them all; horror, trepidation, awe, admiration, and the undying love that’s without a doubt reflected in her own gaze.

“Yes.”

It’s why the two of you fit together so effortlessly.

#arlecchino x reader #genshin x reader

206 notes · View notes

just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 12 days

Note

HAPPY 1K!!!! That's SO exciting and well deserved!!

Might I humbly request a ficlet with...

Z. "You'll do anything for attention, won't you?"

and ⭐Celebrity AU

Thank you so much, I hope you enjoy! 🍓

I'm celebrating 1k followers, requests are open

Just how much I'll do

Rated: M

Words: 989

Tags: Celebrity AU, modern AU, rockstar Eddie, nepo baby Steve, fake dating, sexual tension, finger sucking, enemies to lovers

🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓

“Ah, there they are,” Eddie says. “Took them long enough.”

Steve stops chatting with the waitress to follow his gaze. Something is glinting beyond their window, in the tiny space between two cars on the other side of the dark street. A camera. The waitress hurriedly puts down their dessert and scurries off. Steve watches her go with a disappointed frown. Using the moment of distraction, Eddie reaches out across the table and tangles their fingers together.

The frown melts into a bitchy scowl and Steve flinches like Eddie’s hand is something gross.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Eddie laughs, loud and unashamed in the hushed quiet of the restaurant.

“Aw, sweetheart,” he coos. He flips their entwined hands so they’re facing the window, running his thumb over Steve’s knuckles in a slow, deliberate motion. His smile is wide and teasing as he leans over the table and into Steve’s space. “I must admit I’m a tad bit insulted. I make an effort to look nice for you, take you to the fanciest restaurant in town, and you’ve got nothing better to do than flirt with the waitress all night? Why, Stevie, do you even still love me?”

“Quit it, Munson,” Steve snaps, trying to yank his hand away, but Eddie holds firm. A few quizzical heads turn in their direction and he’s quick to stop struggling. When he speaks again, his voice is a low hiss. “You know as well as me that this is all a publicity stunt. Don’t forget about the deal.”

“Sure,” Eddie drawls, snatching a chocolate-coated strawberry from his plate and popping it into his mouth. The chocolate bursts between his teeth and tangy, juicy sweetness explodes all over his taste buds, making him hum in pleasure. The place may be way out of his comfort zone, markedly different from his usual dark and edgy night clubs, but at least the food is excellent. “We go on a few dates together, let our friends out there take their little photos, write their little news stories. After a few months, we break it off amicably - no hard feelings, you’ll always be special to me, yadda yadda. My label gets off my ass about my ‘out of control’ lifestyle, your old man gets to beat those completely unfounded allegations of homophobia just in time for the big election. Look how supportive he is of his queer son, after all. A true champ, a beacon of tolerance and open-mindedness, a shining example for all of us.”

Steve, who has just taken a sip of his wine, snorts so hard, Eddie’s surprised it doesn’t come shooting out of his nose. He has a nice laugh - pretty like the rest of him, but there’s a bitter little twist to his mouth that never seems to quite disappear. Eddie catches himself wondering what his smile would look like without it.

“Please,” Steve sneers, putting his glass back down with a bit too much force. A few drops of wine splash over the rim, staining the table cloth red. “My dad’s a bigoted old asshole and we both know it.”

The hand that’s still tangled with Eddie’s tightens, almost painfully. A small part of Eddie imagines the things Senator Harrington must call his darling son behind closed doors.

“Makes me wonder, though,” is what he says, “why you agreed to play along in this little farce? Why help him out if he’s such a douchebag?”

For a second, something pokes through the facade of bored indifference on Steve’s face, something open and vulnerable and honest. Eddie wants to grab a hold of it and pull it all the way to the surface, lay it bare and never let it go again. But it’s gone as quick as it came, slipping through his fingers like mist.

“Whatever,” Steve mutters, and the bitter curl returns to his lips. “Not like you’d get it.”

He's right, Eddie thinks. He probably wouldn't. He hasn't seen his own sperm donor in twenty years. He doesn’t know what it's like, growing up in the shadow of an overbearing father, constantly forced to uphold your family's image, to live up to expectations.

But something in the way Steve says it, all haughty and derisive, like Eddie isn't even worth an explanation, makes something ugly stir low in his belly.

“Oh, I think I get it,” he says, plucking another strawberry from his plate. Steve watches with a furrowed brow how he lets it dangle between them, waving it idly about as he speaks. “I think it must be hard, constantly begging for daddy's love and acceptance, but only ever being fed the scraps. Always so eager, always so willing, but never quite good enough, you poor boy. You'll do anything for attention, won't you?”

Steve's eyes go wide, perfect lips parting around a punched-out little sound. Eddie grins triumphantly, lifting the strawberry to his mouth.

But he never makes it there.

Steve surges forward, fingers closing around Eddie’s wrist. Eddie watches, heartbeat pounding in his skull, how Steve sucks the fruit into his warm, wet mouth. How pink lips slip over his fingers, all the way down to the first knuckle. Chocolate cracks and a thin rivulet of red juice trickles down Eddie's thumb. Steve darts out his tongue and catches it, never once breaking eye contact.

“Holy shit,” someone whispers. It takes Eddie a moment to recognize his own voice. He knows it's impossible through the glass and the distance, but he swears he can hear how the camera shutter on the other side of the street goes crazy.

Steve releases his fingers with a slick sound, tongue licking over plush lips to gather the last traces of strawberry and chocolate and Eddie still clinging to them. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse, breath cool against Eddie’s wet skin.

“Let's get outta here … and I'll show you just how much I'll do.”

🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓

And then they went home and had hate sex. The end.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #1k followers #Hype's 1k follower ficlets

86 notes · View notes

gvtted-ratz · 2 months

Text

read all our tags/ratings. they r important n give u all u need 2 decide if u wanna actually read or not. do not like the tags/rating? do not read.

FEM ALIGNING/IDENTIFYING PPL (unless mutuals/friends) DNI WITH OUR MLM WORKS. fem ppl can still request tho. respect our wishes or get blocked. yes we do read/check everything. we tag appropriately/use tags that go with our posts.

want 2 request? find the rules: here!

want 2 see all the fics? find em: here!

Soft To The Core

König x M!Reader

Last Edited: 03/01/23

TW: death mentioned

AO3 LINK -> HERE

anon: 4 with König and he/him male reader. That is all <- frothing at the mouth but being SO COOL about it (4. accidental touching!!!!)

Word Count: 767

Notes: hey again bestie… i see u. i have our dms about the man n u frothing btw. Also. ik absolutely nothing about guns n stuff so uh. oop ig… also. i made the reader like. kinda techy n speak some russian? i was listening 2 gore by graveyardguy as i wrote this just so u know. Didn’t influence much of the thing but the title is definitely from the song.

You hum as you clean your sniper rifle; the disassembled piece of metal all over your lap. Usually, you would be around a table or even in your own assigned room. However, today they had a mandatory room check. While you didn’t mind it, having all the tables and sitting areas taken out in the cafeteria as well as the shooting range didn’t help. This leads to you sitting underneath a small pine. It’s fairly young, being only large enough to cast enough of a shadow to give you cover from the sun.

While you don’t mind cleaning your gun, making sure your laptop was in better shape or needed to be put back together was more interesting. While you’ve done it a hundred times before, for you, it never got old. You enjoyed taking apart the electronic gadgets and putting them back together. Seeing how they work and even improving them intrigued you more than going out on the field and sending bullets people’s way to splatter their blood everywhere. The missions they assign you in KorTac have been nothing but boring or a pain. You’ve never actually trained for this part or even with the rifle at all. You are more of someone who hacks cameras, reads coding to try and find anything that could give enemies away, and even disarm some bombs via the tech you have on hand during said times.

Now, while it’s not something you prefer doing, you can’t help but enjoy at least one of your members. König, or King as many call him, is your favourite man. Despite his awkward social interactions, he’s never been particularly rude to you. Nor has the giant Austrian ever tried to get on your nerves. He keeps to himself mostly, leading to you having to seek him out if you want company. Sometimes he’s out and about, though he’s either alone or towering over the other soldiers.

Of course, that doesn't mean he’s not deadly. You’ve seen him out on the field. He’s truly a rampaging beast. He picks up enemy soldiers and cracks their backs over his knee. He’ll gun them down or snipe them, giving a laugh or giggle. He’ll yell out in a happy tone “I have some cash!” whenever he gets his hands on even a single coin. He’s wilder and more brutal. And you couldn’t help but notice. However, despite noticing it, you didn’t treat the man any differently.

A large pair of military-issued boots appear in front of your crisscrossed legs. Looking up, you see the man you’ve been thinking of as you cleaned the barrel of your gun. “Ah. König,” You say, giving him a small smile. “Привет! How has my favourite man been?” König’s hands are loosely holding each other, nearly touching his stomach with his chosen position.

“Ah… Ich meine, es lief gut…” He says, looking uncomfortable standing there. You gesture to the ground next to you, letting him know that he can sit beside you. With confirmation now obtained, König lets himself fall into a seated position right next to you. He ends up knocking his knee into your thigh; you wince at the sharp pain but laugh it off.

“I’m so sorry..! I did not mean to hit you. Bitte vergib mir!” The large man starts to apologize immediately, already beating himself up over the accidental touch. You wave him off, trying to make your smile softer to try and reassure the Austrian.

“ нет, нет! Все хорошо, ты в порядке!” Your words seem to calm him down a bit, despite him not exactly understanding your words. “Besides, König, I say you’re sharp as a knife but Soft To The Core.” You’re not sure why, but the words felt right to say.

“Ja? Well… They do say beauty is on the inside, Freund,” He tells you; a nearly inaudible chuckle escapes him. You feel another smile pull at your lips at his words.

“They sure do, мой возлюбленный. They sure do.” You mumble. With some silence between the two of you, it’s easy to hear the shout of one of your captains letting you all know that the mandatory room clearance has been finished. You playfully smack König’s shoulder, clasping it as you stand. “Let’s go back, да?” When he gives you a nod, you shove your gun parts into the duffle bag you brought just for it. “Let’s go then! Maybe we can grab some food once these bozos clear out.” With those last words, you take the lead, König following behind you quietly and with genuine happiness shining in his eyes.

#x male reader #x reader #my fics #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #cod x reader #cod mw 2 x reader #cod x male reader #cod mw2 x male reader #konig x reader #könig x reader #könig x male reader #konig x male reader

75 notes · View notes

thana-topsy · 9 months

Text

I’ve lost count of who all has tagged me in a WIP Wednesday post, so THANK YOU all my beautiful tesblr buddies. I was very busy yesterday, and today was hectic as well, so I’m rolling in late.

I’ll double whammy my wips and include some art and some writing. The brainrot continues, and I believe it to be terminal at this stage.

Urag with an undercut. Urag With An Undercut.

And here's a snippet from the fic I'm currently working on featuring these guys again some more:

---

“Thought I might find you up here.”

Enthir took another long drag from his cigarette, his eyes trained on the lights of Winterhold, winking like distant stars across the dark chasm that separated the city from the college. He exhaled, the wind snatching away the smoke as soon as it left his lips. “Were you looking for me?”

Urag leaned against the wall to his right, upwind. “It’d been a few days since I’d last seen you slinking around the grounds.”

“Business in town,” Enthir said by way of explanation. “Been staying at the Hearth.”

He saw Urag study his profile out of the corner of his eye, but Enthir didn’t look at him. “There’s more to it than that.”

Fuck you, old man, Enthir thought. He sighed and put the rolly out on the stone wall before flicking the butt over the side, watching it fall down into the darkness. “Got a visit from an old… friend.” He tongued the inside of his cheek. “Troubling news.”

“It never ends, does it?” Urag said with a sigh.

“Apparently not.” Enthir arched his back, stretching until his sternum popped. “I’ll tell you more. Inside, though. Not gonna freeze my nuts off over all this.”

Urag followed Enthir back to his cramped quarters in the Hall of Attainment. He wasted no time making himself at home in one of the chairs, toeing off his boots and propping his feet up on Enthir’s bed. Enthir paced around the room, organizing some of the bits and bobs he’d left lying around—shuffling papers into stacks, dropping loose jewelry into various boxes.

“I’ve long known the Guild has been going through hard times,” he started to explain. “Thanks to the near-endless business of our colleagues, I don’t have to rely on them as much as I used to. The new Arch-Mage had me nervous for a while there, but I think we’ve reached an understanding.”

“Wickwing is no Savos,” Urag agreed. “But she’d make an enemy of herself if she tried to push you out of the college. She’s smart enough not to mess around with the established order of things, so long as it’s good for the school.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Enthir muttered.

“Did you step away from the Guild when it started going downhill?”

Enthir paused, looking down at the book on the top of the stack in his hands: The Nightingales by Gallus Desidenius. “You know when I stepped away from the Guild. And why.”

Urag grunted, but said nothing else on the matter. “So why’s their business your business all of a sudden? Just wash your hands of them. You’re doing them a favor, the way I see it. A fence this far north?” He clicked his tongue in lieu of finishing his sentiment.

“That’s where this friend comes in.” He shoved the books one by one onto the shelf over his desk. “Karliah.”

“Karliah.” Urag repeated the name, as if thumbing through the dusty catalogs in his mind for the association attached to it. “Ah, right. Gallus’s woman.”

A needle of pain in Enthir’s chest made him wince. “Yep.”

“Didn’t she–?”

“Nope.”

Urag grunted again. “Well, that certainly shakes things up.”

#wip wednesday #topsy draws #topsy writes #enthir #urag gro shub #enthir/urag #skyrim fanfic #skyrim #elder scrolls #tesblr

120 notes · View notes

bucknastysbabe · 1 year

Note

SHIT! You won't believe what came to my mind! I really want you to write aemond/reader or aegon/reader (whatever you like, who do you like better) BUT with dynamics like in the cartoon the swan princess! you know, something based on that song… I think it's called "this is my idea". where the reader is a lady who comes to the red castle every summer as a child, and all the children have a little rivalry, and then it turns out that she is engaged to one of the princes …. well, just listen to this song and I think you will understand what I mean, I'm bad at formulating thoughts, sorry I'M SORRY THIS IS SO LONG but it's literally tearing me apart

AH I WATCHED THE VIDEO AND ITS SO CUTE. So I did this with more politics, adventurous targvelaryon babies and of course shit head aegon. No YOU tore me apart anon. Bottom of me heart hope you enjoyed it, pebble throwing and all. Thanks for the request, keep ‘em coming folx

Proposals? Not my idea.

Tags: Childish ass rivalry, Aegon is actually a sad baby, everyone else is tired of the idiot, Celtigars rule #TEAMBLACKSTANNIES, enemies to lovers, time skips galore, inspired by the swan Princess

Viserys sat with an annoyed look on his face. Rhaenyra to his right, Alicent on the left The tension was aggravating his already throbbing head. His lady wife and Otto had called the meeting, disturbing the king from his building.

Criston Cole stood by the door, shooting a blank look to the regent. Beesbury, Wylde, Strong, Lannister, and Grand Maester Mellos sat around the table. With a sigh Viserys put his golden orb into the slot, opening the meeting. He inquired impatiently, “And what is this meeting so very important to be called for?”

Alicent’s lips opened but Otto butted in, “The concern of Prince Aegon’s betrothal.”

Viserys guffawed, “Is he not to be wed to Helaena?”

Silence amplified by wide eyes ensued. Rhaenyra stifled laughter behind her hand. Alicent softly began, “My king. Aegon has…refused the betrothal. He- our son claims he will not fulfill his duty.” Viserys groaned aloud, his body was starting to ache at the stiff chair.

Otto piped in, “We have tried everything but he refuses to bed her if they are to be in union. We called this meeting to consider alternate options.”

Tyland Lannister shared a look with Lord Wylde. Rhaenyra snarked, “Marry him to a Lyseni whore then. Valyrian blood for the line and whores are all my half-brother goes for anyway.” Harrold harrumphed in disagreement. Otto barred his daughters arm when Alicent snapped, “Do not speak of my son that way! Ask your dear Daemon about pillow houses!”

Rhaenyra grinned like a cat, turning icy eyes onto her father. Tyland Lannister proposed, “Why not look at the Celtigars? They are a house of Old Valyria and quite wealthy. Lord Bartimos has a lovely grand daughter of twelve-and-ten from what I have heard.”

Multitudes of voices spoke up, questioning about the great houses or a union with Dorne.

Viserys, quite done with it all, slammed his palm on the table. He declared, “Send a raven to Lord Bartimos to bring the girl. Helaena will be betrothed to Aemond, he seems to be fond of the child. My word is final.”

Otto raised a brow, choosing to remain silent. Alicent’s face was wrought with concern. She hoped this young she-crab retained nothing of her families sour disposition.

A fortnight later

Your grandfather had been lecturing you on the rules and etiquette of court in the Red Keep. You stared blankly as Bartimos waved his wrinkled hands around, chiding you to remember your upbringing and lessons.

He pinched your chin softly, boring into your eyes. Lord Celtigar gruffed, “If you can survive the Sea Lord of Braavos then take that and guard yourself and intentions by the thousands.” You replied, “They are a nest of Dragons, I can get that much.”

He huffed a laugh and released you, eyeing the Red Keep beckoning the family across the Blackwater Bay. Bartimos braced himself on the side of the ship, breathing in the air. He grumbled, “Your potential betrothed is a bit of a…grasping chap.” You scoffed and bit out, “How so grandfather?”

“Drinks and whores, any serving girl in sight they tell me.”

Your shoulders fell. Still being a princess would be much more palatable than old Lord Crabb. His second lady wife died in the birthing bed and you were offered on a silver platter until the Hand’s raven came in. You didn’t care if the dragon prince was a fool, you’d find other things to do. Squeezing out heirs was the bad part. You shuddered and thought on something else.

Two Kingsguard bearing the same face waited on the docks with gorgeous geldings in tow. One announced, “Lord Celtigar, and the young lady. Welcome to King’s Landing.” You gave the customary bow, feeling your grandfathers steely eyes upon you. You had decided that the city was disgusting. Houses upon ramshackle houses layered upon another, beggars and folks covered in filth barking their wares. The Red Keep loomed over the city like a crimson giant from tales of old.

Grandfather chatted to the two knights and you pulled your hood up higher. The leers of the small folk made you uneasy. Claw Isle was a desolate rock but your childhood was joyfully spent seafaring and finding critters along the broken coast with your cousins and siblings.

You gasped at the sheer height of Maegor’s monstrosity, built to show who truly ran the Seven Kingdoms. Your grandfather spoke of the twisted and fearsome Iron Throne and the maze that ran underneath the keep, holding secrets one wouldn’t dare to unearth.

The Hand himself, Otto Hightower stood at the top of the steps with the queen smiling rather forcefully next to him. Otto beckoned your small party forward. Bartimos and the imposing man hugged and exchanged pleasantries. The green queen pulled you aside, murmuring, “Come here dearest, let me take a look at you.”

You tried not to squawk as the lady prodded and pinched your face, running a gentle hand down your delicate braids. Once done she pulled you into a warm hug. She remarked, “You are beautiful. This will do quite nicely. The Maiden smiles upon thee.” Your supple boots were beginning to grow damp with sweat.

You bowed and thanked Queen Alicent graciously, offering your honor to be in her presence. Otto turned to you before flicking his eyes to Alicent, the slender woman nodding with a soft tilt of her lips. The hand clasped his hands together and spoke, “Very well. Let us get you two in some sumptuous accommodations. Dinner will occur tonight for further discussion and merriment.” You had a feeling it was going to be one of those Braavosi menageries but bowed and followed along, purely in awe of the Keep.

Handmaidens flocked to your quarters to gussy you up for dinner. While they corseted and braided your hair you took in the room. This was much different than Claw Isle. Your families keep was by no means honest but looked like a shanty compared to the grand suite. Your home was made of tough timber supported by stones. Crabs too…lots of crabs.

The bed looked like a cloud, and wine plus other treats adorned the flat surfaces. One of the maidens, Meera, whispered, “Did you know this is where Princess Deria stayed when she delivered Dorne’s terms to the conqueror?” You turned and snarked, “I think I’m a bit less important than that.”

Another one piped in, “No, no, you’re very important. The whispers are that they are considering a betrothal for the young Prince!” Stagnant silence fit the room as you warbled, “My lord grandfather has made it very clear about that. May I have some wine?”

A cup of wine later you felt more loose. It didn’t taste pleasant but considering how others reacted it would be a help. Your father overcomsumed his drink but Bartimos never indulged in a drop. You’d watch yourself tonight.

The ladies tittered over your beauty, guiding you towards a looking glass. You did look comely. The cinching of your waist and the tight bodice gave you the appearance of curves. Celtigars were lanky in nature and you hoped some of your mother’s Rosby fertile traits would come in time.

You smiled and thanked the ladies, promising them a gift before you departed. A polite knock at the door swerved your head, and one of the servants opened the heavy wood. A white knight and Lord Celtigar stood waiting. Your grandfather was nervous, pulling at the hem of his cloak.

“Ser Willis Fell, my grand daughter,” he gestured to you, “Sweetling, your sworn sword for the time being.” You bowed and warmly replied. The Fell man— a strapping lad of dark gray eyes and dusty hair nodded politely. With a swish of his white cloak, the Celtigars were escorted to the Targaryen’s private dinner chambers.

Bartimos grabbed your sleeve, shifting the brocade of white and red beading. He stared expectantly. You meekly replied, “I will be on my most honorable behavior grandfather.” In a strange moment he pulled you into a hug and whispered, “I know you will. Of my offspring, you have a keen eye and intuition they do not possess.”

Face heated with affection, you were introduced to the family. Your heart sank into your bowels as you took in the scene. Queen Alicent shot up and strode to your side. Daemon snorted into his wine, getting a burning look from the King himself. Alicent beamed at you, cheerily chatting, “You look like a dream young lady. Come, come, we’ll sit you next to the younger ones.” You kept your face cool and curtsied before the royals as the queen led you to a spot next to Princess Helaena.

She squeezed your shoulders and returned to the other side of the table. Your grandfather had joined over near King Viserys and the Hand. The seat was empty next to you. You introduced yourself quietly, picking at your dress. One of Daemon’s girls, Rhaena, spoke, “It is wonderful to meet you, a fellow Valyrian.” Rhaenyra’s eldest boy chimed in, “Not very much of us around here!”

You laughed and joked, “We’re not as beautiful as your houses, but yes we can trace our ancestry back. We wanted a smaller desolate rock with people that hated us I’m afraid.”

They laughed around, even the quiet Helaena. She was exceedingly kind, but off. You chatted with the dragon seeds before asking, “May I ask, where is-.”

The dead-silent Aemond spoke, turning his intense gaze upon you, “He’s either hungover, asleep, bedding a whore, or all three I’m afraid Lady Celtigar.”

Your face fell but you lightly surmised, “I had heard as such. Even at this age?”

The Valyrians all nodded in unison. Jacaerys teased, “Since he’s gone so much that wouldn’t stop you from ahem- taking matters into your own hands.” Baela squawked and Aemond waved his hand muttering about moon-tea. The sweet Helaena grabbed your palm, her amethyst eyes searching your soul. She deadpanned, “The trap will be set.” You tore your gaze away, disturbed.

The young Lucaerys waved the dreamy Targaryen off and started about training with Ser Harwin— Aemond rolling his eyes. The stoic second son unnerved you even at such a young age. He was two-and-twelve and dreadfully serious.

With a yelp and a curse, Aegon Targaryen, second of his name stumbled in the room. Ser Westerling shook his head and marched the drunken boy into his chair. You scrunched your nose at his disheveled state. Aemond pinched his brother and the Velaryon blooded Targaryens giggled.

Aegon turned slowly to stare at you, glazed eyes surveying your form. He was probably seeing double from the way he closed a purple eye. The adults watched in horror, Viserys looking pale in the face. Daemon smirked, murmuring something in High Valyrian to the Princess Rhaenyra. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment, a sudden need to slap the boy silly arising.

He slurred, “Y’ma betthrowed? Naht bad for ah crab! Bih’ skinny for m’tastes.” The thoroughly disheveled prince devolved into a fit of high-pitched giggles. You bit your tongue til it bled. Lord Celtigar’s gnarled hands drew white gripping the table. Alicent marched up and grabbed Aegon by the ear, hissing and spitting. He protested but stumbled along, falling down multiple times. Silence ensued before Otto and the King apologized and dinner returned.

Your appetite had left you, choosing to swirl the mash around your plate. The rest of the children shot looks of pity. You sniffled to hide your angry tears. What an absolute ass— the warnings were not enough. You bitterly remarked, “At the least the sot finds me comely.” A couple of chuckles filled the table and that was the last it was discussed.

You lamented your existence in your chamber. As much as a girl of twelve-and-ten could. If your possible betrothed was that much of an uncouth drunkard you would reconsider the elder Lord Crabb. Not like it mattered anyways— you were simply a pawn. Staring out into the bay you thought about sailing away. You’d probably get drowned or sold to Lys but the thought was soothing.

Your grandfather chuckled when he saw your frame bundled up on a chair. He ambled over and sat across from you. Petulantly you kept your mouth shut, eyeing your kin. He placed a spotted hand on your shoulder, smiling. You croaked, “What is so lighthearted about this grandsire?”

He replied, “Regardless of the young prince’s antics, the pair of you will be married in years time. He has sobered up and given his approval. For the time being, you will stay in King’s Landing as a lady-in-waiting for Princess Helaena.”

You spat, “I am honored to serve my family. Even is my betrothed is a drunken wretch. Please do visit, or send my brother, I fear I will be eaten alive.”

Bartimos guffawed, even taking to slap his knee. He leaned in and and spoke lowly, “Give the boy time. The prince will see what’s right in front of him, then that’s when you dig your claws in. My girl, who mentions King Jaehaerys without good Queen Alysanne? Be a lady, worship the Gods, and bide your time. Boy can’t see past his cock currently. Claw Isle is a mere ride from here, I will be watching.”

Your grandfather’s blunt words warmed your heart and set you to laughing, bringing happy tears to your eyes. In a flurry you hugged the sour crab and thanked him. He murmured, “The crabs feed on the helpless, just wait and see.”

A couple of months later

The royal children scampered around the secret beach under the Red Keep. Baela and Aemond had argued over an age-old pirate hiding his treasure in one of the many alcoves exposed when the tide was drawn. So down they went, Aemond snootily declaring when the best time was based on the moon. Jace snorted under his breath, “Cad.”

You and Aegon were at odds end; bickering and caught in petty bets. He shoved past you down the crumbling stairs, you sending a boot to his skinny legs. He stumbled and shrieked, “Piss off crab!” You huffed and stomped down. Luke nervously looked around, quavering. Rhaena seemed ecstatic, holding the dark headed boys hand.

Once on the shore, Baela pointed at a particularly jagged cave opening. She declared, “Thats the description that Aemond and I found!” Aemond sniffed, “We have two hours until tide surges back in, let’s go.” Aegon yawned, rolled his eyes, and swaggered forward to the cave. You followed along, picking up a seashell or two along the way. Your betrothed snorted, “What are you, Joff now?”

You tossed a pebble at him and shouted, “It reminds me of home you cretin! Keep moving!”

Aegon glared and trailed behind Baela. She stopped at the edge of the opening and turned around. She informed, “It’s going to get wet, but we have to be fast. Everyone got a weapon?” The group held up their daggers dutifully. Aemond charged in, his boots sinking thigh deep. Aegon groaned, “Greaaat.”

You shoved him forward and held the rear as Luke and Rhaena tromped in the darkness. Baela lit a torch, illuminating the cave. The gloom went further on. You hummed, “Maybe Helaena could’ve used her weird prophecies.” The princess had declined the adventure, informing you to bring her back a beautiful shell. Aegon groaned in disgust and barked at Rhaena to keep going.

Down and down they went until the kids stumbled upon an old chest. Luke yelped, “Gods! It’s real!”

Aemond snipped, “We don’t know yet fool.”

Jace bristled and you murmured some calming words. Aegon complained, “Pry it open then. I’d like to not drown any time soon.” Baela shushed the eldest and gathered Jace to wedge their daggers under the lid. With a crack it opened. The kids all gathered around to peer over it. Inside lie a strange jade figurine and some gold coins.

“Treasure,” Rhaena cheered!

Aemond’s eyes glanced about and he hastily demanded, “Tide’s rising. Let’s go. Crab, grab the stuff you have a bag.” Your eyes narrowed at the idiotic nickname Aegon had given you and unfortunately had stuck. You dutifully stuffed the items away. The tide was rising quicker than expected, everyone scrambling to leave.

Luke coughed up seawater on the shore, Rhaena patting his back softly. Aegon brooded like a wet cat. Everyone was accounted for. You snapped, “Thanks for the help when my foot was caught! Pompous ass.” Aegon shrugged disdainfully. You threw another pebble at him.

3 years later

Times had changed as of late. Rhaenyra had taken her children and Daemon’s girls to Dragonstone. There was a horrid incident involving the loss of Aemond’s eye by his cousin. You missed them dearly. Life was dreary. Helaena was sweet as could be but you were bored. She wasn’t the talkative type. Aemond dug into his studies and training. Aegon had reached the age of 6 and 10 and dove into his second passion besides drinking himself into oblivion; fucking anything with a hole. You eventually found yourself so deprived you asked for some lessons on defense from Ser Criston, the knight accepting happily.

So you had a regimen where you visited the knight a couple days a week to learn swordsmanship, brawling, and throwing off a wayward man. Aemond had quietly even thrown a compliment. Today you wrestled with a page boy, digging him into the ground. Ser Criston clapped, giving pointers.

The mood was promptly ruined by the grating voice of your betrothed.

Aegon stood with his unkempt long locks. You could smell the perfumes of the whore house and wine pouring off of him. Aemond rolled his eye, putting down his sword. The eldest prince remarked, “So you wrestle in the mud like a common beggar? Fitting for a crab.” Criston snapped, “Forgive me your grace but she is out here unlike some people I know.”

You pulled up the page boy and glared at the asshole. You snarled, “I bet your soft belly wouldn’t last a second against me, lazybones.”

Aegon’s pale fists clenched and his face gained red splotches. He hissed, “Why would I get in the mud with a weak girl?” Aemond piped up uncharacteristically with chicken noises. Throwing his hands up, Aegon snarled, “Fine. Let me put my hair up, wench.” You got into stance, ready to show the spoiled princeling.

He lunged and you slid between Aegon’s long legs, wrapping your arms around them. With an ‘oof’ he hit the ground. You wrestled on top of him, lightly shoving and punching. This was very cathartic for you. Aegon shouted horrid obscenities and kicked at you. Your hand gripped around his long throat, your mouth set into determination.

“Yield yellow belly!,” you demanded with another squeeze.

Aegon’s face grew very, very red. A pitiful noise left his throat, the boys eyes looking pointedly away. Then you felt the length between your legs. You gasped and got off, giving the perverted prick another kick to the side. You’d never seen Aemond and Criston laugh that hard in your life. As you trudged off, the elder son stared around in bewilderment before screeching at the men in the vicinity.

2 years later

If you had the choice you’d put Aegon’s head on a spike. He’d do the absolute same. When he wasn’t salaciously flirting with you…often followed up by an insult. Cards spread out on your table, a flagon between you two. He purred, “What do I get when I win?” You frowned and shuffled your cards. When you stared at the prince you grumbled, “You’d get your pox riddled dick cut off— do the realm a favor.” Aegon glared, “So bitter at a young age.”

“I’m a year younger than you loutish pig.”

He waved a hand and the pair of you started to play. Every round you had won, the increasingly annoyed prince demanded another go. The flagon had been replaced by that point too, mainly swallowed down by the blonde. You teased, “Seven above Aegon, you are simple!” Aegon’s cheeks flushed adorably hideously and he threw the cards across the table in anger.

Yelping you chided, “Really? Grow the fuck up.”

Aegon crossed his arms and muttered, “I don’t want to play the dumb cards anymore.”

“What? Do you want to play come-in-to my castle, blanket up a Red Keep like babes?”

Aegon leaned over the table and lecherously glared at you. He hummed lowly, “How about I come into your castle, Celtigar?”

You promptly slapped the shit out of him. Aegon held his cheek, eyes wide and pouty lips gaping. You grumbled, “This is not my idea of fun. Go to the brothel for that. I have to see to Helaena.”

Aegon sputtered but couldn’t form words, gaping after your retreating figure. Aemond’s voice called from behind, “Definitely not an idea of fun brother. The crab does not like you.” Aegon grumbled, “Tell me about it.” He held his cheek in heat, but his chest flip-flopped in a strange way.

1 year later

Helaena sung a melodic song in the Godswood. Her and Aemond’s children played about with a servant. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera were gorgeous children, cracking open the sealed off part in your heart that yearned for love and childbearing.

Too bad you had the most idiotic, philandering, vain soon-to-be husband. The wedding was in plan for the fall. Winter was coming after all. The Starks had a point with that. The pair of you had ignored each other, Aegon did whatever debauchery that filled his free time while you read and accompanied sweet Helaena.

You paused and stared at the bleeding face of the Weirwood. Helaena hummed, “The weirwoods. They watch all of us. Silently, but there. They know everything.”

Holding back a snarky rebuttal you questioned, “Do you think the Trees know if my prince will consider me to be human eventually?”

Helaena stopped her fine needlepoint and grew silent. The whispering of the trees filled the garden. Even the children gazed up from their toys. That look of hers was upon you. The look that saw something you would never fathom. The past, present, and future. She whispered, “The broken dragon needs a shell.”

You hoped her strange words would alleviate something. Never in the way you expected per usual. She returned to her needlepoint, a knowing smile on her lips.

In a different part of the castle, Aegon was in his cups, again. Aemond sat with with his long legs primly crossed. The one-eye groused, “What could you possibly want drunkard?” Aegon bemoaned, “I think I am attracted to my future wife.” His brother snorted and leaned on his elbow, waiting for elaboration. The elder brother continued, “She’s beautiful, strong-willed, sexily stubborn, long legs, nice tea-“

Aemond waved a hand, “No more. If you didn’t act like a right prat to the young crab then maybe she’d be more willing. I’m going to be blunt. The lady is not interested in a whore-mongering, khat snorting, drunk arsehole. My only advice is go grovel at her feet if your simple self hasn’t ruined that.” Aegon shoved some bread in his mouth and bolted, leaving the second son to shaking his head, a smirk on his thin lips.

Later that evening you had retired to your quarters, reading a book on the history of Yi Ti. The grand maester had lent it to you due to your fixation on the wild lands of Essos. Your eyes flickered up at a crash. Your betrothed fell in. Literally. You slammed your book down and spat, “Gods! A warning?” Aegon’s teary eyes met yours.

You remained seated and questioned, “What the hells are you doing here? Don’t bring your drunken nonsense to my quarters!” Aegon responded with an ungainly crawl to your knees. You batted off his grasping hands until he held them clenched on his thighs.

You deadpanned, “Did Otto put you up to this? No I’m not bedding you either.”

Aegon sniffled, shaking his head. You watched as his tangled tresses swung around. Pity grew in your stomach. You snapped, “Out with it?” Aegon asked so, so softly, “Can I hold your hands?” You remained skeptical until pausing to stare into his violet orbs. With a sniff you placed them into his palms. The prince’s warm hands enveloped yours, squeezing tightly.

He croaked, “I- I- fuck. I think something is wrong with me. Is it too late for forgiveness?”

“Of course something is wrong with you,” you ignored the man’s second question.

You jolted when the blonde shouted, “No!,” he grew quiet, “I mean no.”

He continued, “I was dumb. I need you. I’m cracked in the head, broken, nothing makes me happy anymore.”

You crossed your legs, dumbfounded at Aegon’s words. You questioned, “Is this a farce? You despise me…I despise you. This is a political union.”

Aegon’s wide eyes poured tears. He whimpered, “On the seven- just give me a chance. Let me try to be good to you m’lady. I don’t want to go into a loveless marriage like they did.” You knew he was mentioning his parents. Squeezing the distraught dragon’s hands you let out a soft noise.

You stated, “If we work together, I think this could be a good idea. Now quit your weeping. Let us go sit on a roof and we can make terms. Forgiveness is earned, not given.” Aegon nodded, holding onto your palms for dear life.

Aegon mumbled, “I don’t despise you. You’re just…intimidating. Someone I wish I could be.”

You sighed, “Maybe. Just maybe I do not despise you. Just need some…discipline.” You grabbed his palm and pressed a gentle kiss to it, the prince’s breath hitching. Happy tears sprung to his sullen face. You hoped you were making a good idea and could have fun from the broken dragon’s changes.

#aegon ii targaryen #hotd fanfic #aegon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #request #house celtigar #Celtigar!reader #proposals and politics oh my #Aegon gets his ass kicked

504 notes · View notes

ineffectualdemon · 20 hours

Text

I don't think authors or book sellers or even reviewers using fanfic/trope keywords like "Enemies to lovers" is bad

Because honestly? It's not new either

1. It's been a staple bit of marketing in Romance for decades ("Bodice Rippers"? Hello!?)

2. It's not that far off of where genre marketing was in the 90s and 2000s "Its another one of those Sword and Sorcery books"

3. People have always gravitated towards and recommended books based on story elements that they really like that don't necessarily tell you anything about the plot

"This book has time travel!" Was one of mine for a long time. I'm still going to read any old trash if there is even a whiff of time travel! And I will be excited and bring it up while recommending it even if it's not relevant to the plot or tell you anything about the genre of story

I am not alone about this!

"This one has vampires!" - vampire friend recommendation

"this one has cool battles!" - friend who likes battles

"this one is really funny!" - friend who likes comedy

I have rarely had anyone start a pitch with the plot ever in my whole life. They start with what they find fun or exciting

Then they will talk about the plot

Online you have less time and also it's an good short hand to get people's attention based on what story elements they love

We just have a lot more specific phrasing thanks to fanfic that helps them quick fire these things

An author or publisher using fanfic/trope style tags to promote their work are not failing by not leading with a plot synopsis. They are doing the equivalent of shouting their goods in the marketplace to attract customers

If someone came to me and said 'Hey, I think you might like this story. It's about time travelling bisexual robots" then I want to ask more questions and look it up and see the genre and plot summary

That two second sell is enough to get me intrigued which is the entire point and if I look at it more and see its say, horror, i might go "ah dang, not for me."

Which is fine

But I might go "hmmm I don't normally like horror but I do like time travel and bisexual robots" and give it a try. And I might not enjoy it but I am making an informed choice

Also with authors especially if you scroll down a little more or click the read more or spend longer than 2 seconds on the video they usually tell you more about the book

And if all you are getting is the literary equivalent of "Fish! Fresh Fish!' And NOTHING else

Maybe that's a reflection of where you are on the internet because where I am if I stop I hear about what kind of fish they have and how long ago they were caught and loads about how it was caught - you get what I mean?

#books #reading

26 notes · View notes

verai-marcel · 4 months

Text

Your Hearth Is My Home (BG3 Fanfic, Astarion x Female Reader, Part 15 of ?)

Summary, Notes, Tags, & Part 1 are here.

Act II - Part 13 | Part 14

AO3 Link is here, my dear.

Word Count: 3268

————————————

Act II, Chapter 3 - The Rescue

Being within the soft silver glow of Isobel’s shield, the party felt less of a need to keep watch, but Astarion still stayed awake out of habit, only needing four hours of trancing to feel refreshed. So it was in the pre-dawn hours that you found him in front of his tent, reading a book.

“Awake so early?” he asked as you passed his tent.

“Old habits,” you mused.

He only gave a small “hmm” and continued to read as you walked away.

You were heading towards the cave behind the waterfall, notebook in hand. It had been so long since you had practiced aloud, and you were scared you would forget the songs that your mother had taught you. The old songs, the ones that she said were special, were part of her lineage.

We come from the eladrin, not the ones from Toril, but from the Feywild. Long ago, an eladrin came to this plane and stayed a while, and had a child. So our lineage continues to this day, fey blood in our veins.

You took a deep breath.

And sang.

You weren’t sure how long you sang this song or how many times you repeated it, but when you finally stopped, you still felt the same as before, just with a sore throat.

Mother said this song could bring out the fey in my blood. But nothing ever happens, no matter how many times I sing it. Maybe I don't have enough power in me.

Sighing heavily, you closed your notebook and left the cave. Your companions were already up and about, getting ready for the day.

And unfortunately, Volo had found them first.

Shit.

“If I could just get a few quotes about your adventures—”

“Not interested,” Lae’zel snarled. “Be gone. We have enemies to kill.”

“Ah, but only a sentence or two—”

You gently took Volo by the elbow and guided him towards the pathway away from camp. “I’ll regale you with some of their adventures back at the inn. I need to help them get ready, and then I’ll join you there.”

He brightened. “Oh, that sounds lovely, I will see you soon!”

As he jauntily headed away from your camp, you heaved a sigh of relief. Turning to the party, you noticed that they also looked relieved to see him gone.

“We owe you,” Wyll said with a grin.

You gave him a small salute. “Just doing my duty to protect the camp,” you said with mock seriousness, earning you a few chuckles.

You walked with the others to the bridge, and wished them well as they left the safety of the shield. Watching them disappear from sight, you silently wished for their safe return.

Then you turned to the inn.

Sigh. Guess I better face my own battle.

***

An hour felt like an eternity with Volo asking question after question. It felt more like an interrogation rather than an interview. As you finished answering yet another follow-up question, you peeked at his writing. He was clearly embellishing and exaggerating nearly everything you said.

“That’s not what I said,” you finally pointed out.

“I’m punching it up a bit, making it sound more exciting to the average reader,” he explained. “You have to make them cling to your every word!”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Eventually you caught the eye of Alfira, who came up to you and asked for your assistance in the kitchen. Excusing yourself, you followed her until the two of you were safely out of earshot.

“You looked like you needed an escape route,” she said with a knowing smile.

“I did, thank you so much.” You looked around. “I guess I’d better actually do something in here, so it’s not too obvious that I ran away from him.”

She giggled. “Well, we could use your help preparing the midday meal.”

As the two of you chopped ingredients and cooked, she shared some stories of her past.

“I’d love to hear one of your songs,” you said after she mentioned how she had met the others.

Alfira looked at the pile of peeled and chopped potatoes. “Well, I think we’ve prepared enough for now. Let’s go out back, I can sing for you there.”

She grabbed her lute and the two of you went out the back door to the shoreline behind the inn. Strumming the lute a few times to tune it, she began to sing.

It was a beautiful song, and her voice was soft and warm, wrapping around your heart and making you feel every note like a gentle caress. Unable to stop yourself, you began to sing with her.

Without missing a beat, she harmonized with you, and together, the song grew stronger. You created a verse in response to hers, and though she looked a bit surprised, she smiled and let you sing. Before long, your song began to gather an audience.

When the two of you ended the song with the last few notes sung as a complement to the other, applause suddenly burst out around you.

Unused to the attention, you froze up. Beside you, Alfira bowed gracefully and you quickly followed suit, your movements a bit stiff. She turned to you as the crowd dispersed. “I didn’t know you could sing so well.”

You shrugged. “I don’t do it often in front of others,” you replied. At least, not if I can help it.

“Well, could’ve fooled me. You’re a natural. I can’t believe you came up with that verse so quickly.”

“Just felt… inspired, I suppose.” You smiled. “Thank you for sharing your song with me. It was brilliant.”

She smiled back, and together the two of you walked back into the inn to finish preparing lunch.

***

It was very late. You had taken an afternoon nap so you could stay awake to watch for the group, but even so, you were starting to feel sleepy. And yet you continued to stare at the pathway, willing them to come back safe.

They’re on a rescue mission. In enemy territory. There’s a very high chance something has happened.

You shook your head. You didn’t want to think about that. Getting up, you cast the hot water rune under the waterfall, and then decided to distract yourself by practicing your old songs and dances.

A few hours passed in this way until you felt exhaustion sink into your bones and drag you down to your bedroll. And still, you stared at the pathway, laying on your side, unable to sleep, anxiety gnawing at the periphery of your mind.

Finally, amidst the soft rustling of the trees around the campsite, you closed your eyes.

It’ll just be for a moment.

***

Memories this far back were more like impressions, feelings, colors splashed onto a snow white canvas.

Your mother, the color of warmth, of autumn, of the sun.

Your father, the color of the earth, of summer, of the sky.

They were happy together, always smiling at one another. And they always smiled at you, as if you were their shining star. They would always love you. They would always be there for you.

Until they weren’t.

The village was peaceful, quiet, tucked away in the mountains just south of the Spine of the World. Far from the chaos of the cities, where devil-worshiping cultists summoned infernal creatures to take over the continent.

And yet, somehow, these far-reaching plots and conspiracies touched even your miniscule spot in the world.

Somehow, the snow white canvas you loved so much became drenched with red.

But before the crimson stained your life, it was full of songs, of dance, to celebrate the change of the seasons.

You always thought your mother looked the most luminous during the harvest season. Her cheer was infectious, spreading throughout your small village. Everyone knew her. Everyone loved her.

Of all the people that died that day, you missed her most of all.

***

The soft chime of the alarm bells woke you. Pushing yourself up with some effort, you saw your companions returning, looking fatigued and covered in grime and blood.

“If you’re famished, there’s some snacks near the campfire,” you told them. You had set up a platter of nuts, dried fruit, and meat jerky before you went to sleep, just in case. “I’ll go renew the hot water rune,” you added before heading off to the waterfall.

You could hear someone languidly following you. You expected Gale, who enjoyed observing your magic. Perhaps he wanted to make his umpteenth attempt to guess where it came from.

Instead, you were surprised to glance behind you and see white hair stained with blood.

“Are you alright?” you asked, turning towards Astarion.

“I’m fine, go on,” he said, waving his hand at you dismissively. “I need a shower.”

I would too, with all of that blood. Stepping into the water and casting the rune as quickly as you could, you realized the water was going to be hotter than usual. Shit, I sang the song too fast.

You tentatively stuck your hand into the heated shower to check. You quickly pulled your hand out and stepped back, only for your back to slam into Astarion. You turned and, looking past his bare shoulder, realized all of his clothes were on the shore.

Is he…? Oh. I should not have looked down. Immediately focusing your gaze to his face, you blurted out, “The water is too hot.”

He raised an eyebrow, then walked past you. Before you could stop him, he stepped into the hot water and sighed happily.

“Perfect.”

“R-really?”

He turned his head toward you. “Yes, darling. A few of us think the rune is never quite hot enough.”

You gawked. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Astarion shrugged. “They probably didn’t know it could be changed. And it felt good regardless.”

You made a mental note to tell the others that you could adapt the temperature. You also realized that Astarion was still showering in front of you as if you weren’t there. Quickly turning around, you stiffly marched back to camp.

“Not even a goodbye?”

You waved back to him without turning around. That view is going to haunt me now.

Back at camp, some of them were snacking while others had broken into one of the wine bottles and were drinking casually. You asked what had happened, and quickly you learned that because of the worm in their heads, they could easily pass through the towers. After they were interrogated and then tasked with finding the whereabouts of Bal-something, they were left alone. Unsupervised, they were able to track down the tieflings and gnomes and escaped via an underground dock.

“Wow,” was all you could say. No wonder it took them so long to get back.

Astarion returned from his shower, which reminded you of the temperature. “Right, so, just in case any of you prefer hotter water, just ask me to adjust the rune next time. It’s a bit hotter this time since I rushed the song, but hopefully it’s still suitable.”

Gale immediately turned towards you, academic interest brightening his expression. “So the speed of your song dictates temperature?”

You shrugged. “To some degree. Pun not intended.” Gesturing towards their tents, you continued. “I adjusted all of your tents to your comfort level as well, after talking to each of you.” You stared at Gale with a grin. “I’m surprised you hadn’t noticed.”

Gale opened his mouth, gave you a look, then scratched his chin. “I thought mine was fine.”

Interesting, I saw you sneak into Shadowheart’s tent. Perhaps you were too distracted to notice that her tent has a higher temperature than yours. But I won’t say anything. You snickered to yourself.

Gale raised an eyebrow at you, but said nothing.

One by one, everyone took their turns in the shower and headed off to their tents, until finally, it was just you and Astarion, sitting side by side, staring into the dying embers of the campfire.

“You aren’t going to trance yet?”

“Not yet. I… I need to process something that happened tonight.”

You recalled that he had just stripped and gotten into the shower while you were still there, as if he was desperate to get clean. Your hackles raised. “Did someone try to hurt you?”

He let out a small huff of laughter. “Someone is always trying to hurt us, darling.”

“I don’t mean in battle.”

He was quiet for a little while before he spoke again. “There… was a blood merchant. She wanted me to bite her in exchange for a potion, but…” He looked sick for a moment. “Her blood smelled foul, rank. And the way she leered at me… I can’t get it out of my head.”

You remained quiet, letting him continue.

“But the others… they didn’t force me. Gale asked me if I wanted to, and when I told him I didn’t, all he said was, ‘then don’t.’ Like it was that simple.”

You nodded. You were glad that everyone was growing closer together, and could trust each other.

“I’m… grateful… that they told me it was my choice,” he said quietly. “It’s been so long since I’ve had to make these decisions for myself. I won’t lie”—he looked away for a moment—“it’s a daunting prospect.” He looked down, his expression darkening slightly. “If they had told me to bite her… I would have just gone along with it. A moment of disgust to force myself through, and then I could have carried on, just like before.”

You frowned. “One potion isn’t worth it.”

“Then what is? Two potions? A moment of unpleasantry doesn’t matter if there’s a fine reward, right?”

“Not if it means giving up something you don’t want to give,” you replied.

“But we could have used that potion,” he argued. “Perhaps I should have just gritted my teeth as always and let her”—his voice caught, his expression pained—“have me, for a bit.”

“Absolutely not!” You turned your entire body to face him. “You’re not some object to be passed around.”

He looked at you for a moment, his eyes widened with momentary surprise before he looked back at the fire. “You’re right. I’m more than that. More than a thing to be used.”

You watched him as memories seemed to play across his vision. He let out a huff. “Being forced to lure pretty things back to my master, what I wanted be damned, was my entire existence for two hundred years.” He frowned and took a breath. “I had nothing at all for so long. Not even my body.”

He turned back to you once more. “Today made me realize that I never stopped thinking like I was still his slave, even in freedom.”

You reached out with the intention of hugging him, but you pulled back. You didn’t want to force anything on him, not now. You put your hand back in your lap. “I’m glad you’ve realized that,” you told him. “Whatever happens, whatever is asked of you, you can always say no. I’ll never judge you for it.”

He nodded. “Thank you,” he said, the sincerity in his tone marking your heart. “You can too, you know.”

You looked at him in confusion.

Astarion smiled. “You can say no to me as well. You don’t have to feed me every night.” He gently brushed your cheek with the back of his knuckles. “You’ve looked more tired since we’ve come here.”

Your eyes widened. Ah, so he’s noticed.

“I can go for a while without a meal. I’m not so weak that I can’t hold back until you’ve recovered.”

“And I’m not so weak that I can’t handle a bit of blood loss a few days in a row. I am a woman, after all.”

He chuckled. “Fair point.”

You looked back at the fire, letting the silence simmer over the flames as you digested the conversation. It was… a lot. Quite the catharsis and revelation for your poor vampire spawn.

Wait.

Looking back at Astarion, seeing his contemplative expression as he stared out into the distance, you wondered when your heart had claimed him as one of yours.

You knew you had been staring at him for too long when he glanced back at you. He gave you a flirty smirk. “Admiring my beauty?”

“Just… just wondering if you wanted a hug,” you mumbled, feeling lame. “But not sure if you were comfortable with that,” you added sheepishly.

He sat up and smiled. “You are such a little sweetheart,” he said as he opened his arms. “Come here, darling.”

As you snuggled into his embrace, you felt something strange when your skin made contact with his.

…guilt…conflicted…

It was faint, but it was there. You honed in on it, even as your body was reveling in physical contact.

Why does he feel this way? Godsdammit, nothing is ever simple with this man.

You pulled away, unable to get your head out of your own, well, head. “I think I’d better get some sleep now,” you said, stuffing your own thoughts deep down for later.

“Of course.” He stayed where he was for a moment, looking at you with a slightly pained expression before he got up and gave you a slight bow. “Sweet dreams, my dear.”

As he left for his tent, you crawled into your bedroll and tried not to ruminate on the reasons why he would feel guilty.

***

A trance for an elf was more a meditative state, a reverie to refresh the mind and body. So when Astarion went to lay down in his tent, he expected his subconscious to run through his usual mental training exercises.

Instead, his mind decided to replay the scene from this morning.

After seeing his sweet treat walk past him with a mission in her step, he waited a few moments before quietly getting up and following her. It took a moment for him to brave the running creek and peek into the cavern behind the curtain of water.

There, he could hear her sing a song in a language unknown, and yet it felt familiar. It had been decades, over a century even, since he had spoken Elvish with any regularity. And yet… even after so much time, he still understood that the witch was singing something similar, yet different somehow.

She read the lyrics from a worn notebook in her hands, her attention completely on her song and not on anything else. She has zero awareness, dammit. Astarion stayed and watched, keeping one ear out for anyone who may approach.

Not that he was guarding her or anything. He was just… listening.

The song ended, and he started to move away from the cave entrance, but then he heard her sing again from the beginning.

She’s going to sing herself hoarse.

Shrugging, he continued to walk away, but he paused when he heard her cough violently.

She’ll be fine.

Her song continued, her voice cracking in places.

Damn foolish witch. Why should I care?

But he did care. And he wasn’t happy about it.

Shaking his head of the memory, he turned over and tried to go back into reverie, but his thoughts turned to how delightfully sweet she looked when she asked him for a hug, how nice she felt in his arms. The conflicted feelings he had, both wanting her and not wanting her, stemmed from the same reason. A reason that was growing harder and harder to deny.

Godsdammit. This is going to be a long night.

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

Act II, Chapter 3 End notes: Oh dear, Astarion is starting to catch FEELINGS. Whatever will he do? As always, thanks for your continued interest in my little story, please let me know what you enjoyed by leaving a comment!

Tag List: @numblytemporary @xalphafox @avitute

#bg3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion #astarion x f!reader #baldur's gate 3 #female reader #writing #bg3 spoilers #your hearth is my home

42 notes · View notes

kazuza-art · 8 months

Text

THE GRINDLEDORE REC LIST!

I love Grindledore! But I'm very VERY specific in my Grindledore love XD In this rec list, you won't find fluffy idyllic Grindledore summer fic or nice Grindelwald turning good by the power of love so be prepared!

so here is some of my favorite fic on the fandom! I hope you will give it all a try <3

One of my very fav characterisation of Albus but also of their couple; It insert itself perfectly into canon and feel so real. They never met in person during the fic and yet it's all about their shared love and messy divorce and poor Graves is the chest piece caught in between. Albus in particular is amazing there, charismatic, manipulative yet benevolent and playful, his arrogance, his grief, his desire to be forgiven, to do GOOD... It's beautiful

This fic really doesn't have the popularity it deserve so please guy give it a try!

A very good old Grindledore in love, reconnecting with each other in Numengard prison. They are old, hurt and traumatized and recovering. But it's beautifully written and full of little moment that feels so real. I love the idea of unrequited love taking away magic, it would be very interesting explore further.

Another one of the best long fic that doesn't have enough recognition. Albus freed Gellert from Numengard to fight a revolution against the corrupt ministry in the second war. Albus is slipping into the dark side while Gellert is trying so hard to refrain from falling back into his old travers. Old Grindeldore in love is always such a treat.

it is such a great GREAT AU, I have no words to describe how good it is.

Please give it a try guys!

A very long serie of AU fic that basically reconcile Grindledore from the fb3 following. It's very political, very well crafted and believable! Gellert doesn't turn magically a nice guy and THERE IS ANTON!! I'm dying for some anton/gellert/albus love triangle XD

this one is an ovni in the Grindledore sphere and I can tell I read every damn fic on this tag, even the Chinese one XD

It's good! I'm not a fan of her Dumbledore but somehow she sold me on it! It's an Au, modern AU type but within the HP world of magic. There is no war so ALbus pursue his career in the ministry and Gellert is an exchange student in politics. This fic is VERY VERY good. Very compelling. Another gem not very well known please take a look guys!

it's a wip that will never be finished I think but it was promising. It's basically what I want from grindledore, not that eternal summer of them but the greedy love-hate relationship in the middle of the war, enemi lover! oh I mourn this fic ç_ç

a super compelling AU where Ariana lives and Grindledore are left to navigate their complicated relationship and to reunite the hollow and conquered the world! Every side character is a gem, Ariana, Vinda, Abe! I just LOVE IT

(author has other very very good grindledore fic by the way)

I love Kierkegarden grindledore fic the best in general but this one is so dark and sad and terrible! Ah such a masterpiece! I wish canon Albus had truly seemed mind healer help and live an happy life, but would gellert let him

IM A HUGE FAN of Grindlewald trying to seduce ALbus as Graves! I wish more people would write that trop! This one is the best I ever read so far! so creepy XD

a twist of the Gellert win and attic wife albus trope! Gellert is the one being attic wife and it's DELICIOUS, I like all Kyrilu fics on Grindledore but this one was really fresh!

Please let me know if you have any good Grindledore recs and why you like them guys <3

#grindledore #grindledore au #fic recs #albus dumbledore #gellert grindlewald #ggad #albus x gellert #albus dumbledore x gellert grindelwald #grindledore fic rec

68 notes · View notes

stark-boys-simp · 1 year

Text

i would not ask, and neither would you

aemond x witch!reader

tags: smut smutty smut smut, minors go away, ooc aemond probably, pining, hands brushing against each other, this could alternately be titled autistic bitches in love, the reader is implied to worship the old gods but you can interpret it however you want, not proofread we die like vaemond

a/n: i’ve been insanely busy and this is so late but this was very inspired by a dragon without wings by @rottingviserys which is one of my favorite fics ever so definitely go read that!!

that fucking dragon had crushed all of her morels, she thought crossly.

the rare, delicious mushrooms were difficult enough to find as it was, and when the huge dragon had fallen from the sky, it had fallen right onto the patch she’d been cultivating for a year.

humming in annoyance, the witch walked over to the huge beast. definitely dead. huge fucker. big as a castle. still, maybe she could use its blood or teeth or hide for something useful.

she stepped close to its head, poking the scaled flesh gingerly. still warm. the witch walked in a circle around it, carefully inspecting the saddle. vhagar, it read on the side. wasn’t that the one eyed prince’s dragon? oh well. that saddle’s still good leather. ooh, a pretty piece of beadwork in the targaryen colors. those would fetch a pretty penny. ooh, is that a boot? if the other one is still there, that could buy a sapling for an apple tree or two. or a new dress,or a few skeins of fabric.

she reached up, undoing the buckles with careful hands before she froze, inhaling deeply in shock at what was still strapped into the saddle. the other boot was definitely still there. as well as the legs, torso, arms, and head attached to them. the head of aemond targaryen, the kinslayer, the one-eyed, and public enemy number one. as well as a pretty nasty sword wound through the shoulder.

shit.

———

she was just finishing labeling her new bottles of dragon’s blood when he awoke.

his white hair was damp with sweat from the humidity from the coming storm, his sapphire eye gleaming in the dim light from the fire. “good morning, your highness,” she said softly. “how did you sleep?”

“where am i?” he asked groggily. he sat up suddenly, straight-backed and glaring, then cried out at the pain in his shoulder and back.

the witch stood up quickly and rushed to check on his shoulder, clicking her tongue in dismay. “you’ll rip your stitches, highness,” she said softly. true enough, the tiniest bit of blood was beginning to seep through the soft cloth bandage. she began to unwrap it gently, trying not to hurt him.

he grit his teeth and she could see his violet eye moving, taking in her little cottage. she had him lying on the meager guest bed, at the wall nearest the fire in her little kitchen. he could see the door to what he assumed was her bedroom in the corner, with strange signs inscribed over the doorways. there were herbs hanging in bundles from the ceiling, strange bottles in shelves on the walls, stacks upon stacks upon stacks of books. it looked… comfortable at least. if shabby and cluttered could be considered comfortable.

“are you a witch?” he asked suddenly.

the woman paused for a moment before nodding.

his face contorted in what she could only assume was fear confusion. he threw his shoulder from her hand and cried out at the pain, the blood flowing quickly now. he collapsed back against the bed, face contorted in pain, but still fumbled for the small knife she had been using to cut the bandages. he held it clumsily in his left hand, pointing it at her in shaking fingers. “get away, heathen,” he spat. “i’ve had enough of your kind, i won’t suffer you anymore.”

the witch scoffed. “ah, yes, my lord. please, i humbly beg your pardon for rescuing you from being suffocated under your gargantuan dead dragon, dragging you a mile and a half to my home, and using my precious time and resources to save the life of a man who not a year ago burned huge swathes of the place i have lived for five years. it was very inconsiderate of me.”

“i don’t need you to tell me what’s right and wrong, witch,” he sneered. “i heard enough of the lies your kind tell with…” his face contorted in what she couldn’t be sure was pain or rage. as angry as he made her, the witch pitied him. she hated seeing people in pain. even him.

so she sat down on the floor beside his bed. he looked down at her in confusion, but seemed to be slightly less threatened by her. he lowered the knife, but still gripped it tight. “what are you doing?” he asked, his voice guarded.

“sitting down,” the witch responded. “wild animals are less threatened by you when you make yourself less threatening. i thought the same might work for you. your judgment seems to be clouded, probably by pain and mental disturbance. mental trauma and physical trauma, as it were. when humans are traumatized and on guard, their more animalistic instincts sometimes cloud their logical judgment.”

he blinked. “you are a very strange woman.”

she nodded matter-of-factly. “i know. i’m not a bad one, though. and i would like to rebandage your arm, please.”

he looked at her oddly for a long moment, his face unreadable. the silence was only broken by the first patterings of rain against the thatched roof of her cottage. he finally nodded.

she started to get up quickly, then remembered how on edge he was and started to move slower, making sure he could see where her hands were or what she was reaching for in the cabinets. he was quiet, watching her intently with his piercing violet eye. “what is your name?” he asked after a moment. his voice was surprisingly quiet.

the witch hesitated for a moment before responding. “y/n.”

———

“you do know the old saying about sleep being the best nurse?” the witch said in a groggy voice, rubbing her eye with the heel of her hand.

aemond was sitting straight up, staring at the wall in the dark. “i can’t.”

“it’s been three weeks since you came here, highness, and you have barely slept at all.” the witch sighed and lit a candle, setting it on the small table and sitting down on the rickety chair. she nodded in his direction. “would you like to talk?”

he blinked at her. “no.”

she nodded again pensively. “tea, then?”

he frowned at her. “you are quite the strangest person in the world.”

“that isn’t an answer.”

he groaned and lay back down on the bed. “yes, fine. tea.”

the witch hummed softly in response, rising and lighting a fire in the dying hearth. aemond watched her as she moved through the house, she was pretty, he thought. for a witch.

“may i ask you something?” her voice cut through the slight fog of his thoughts.

he blinked. “fine. ask away.”

“what is your favorite color?”

“…what?”

she turned back around, pulling two mugs from the shelf and setting them on the table. she measured tea leaves from a jar as she spoke. “favorite color. a color that you prefer over every other color?”

he scowled. “i know what a favorite color is. children have favorite colors.”

“not just children. mine, for example, is orange.”

aemond smiled, somewhat to himself. “orange?”

“mm. like autumn leaves.”

he inhaled the steaming, fragrant scent of the tea as she poured the water over it. she pushed a cup over to him and he gladly took it, getting up and sitting across from her at the table. “why do you ask?” he said, taking his first sip and looking across the table at her with intense eyes.

“i’m making clothes for you, since your old ones are filthy and torn and burned. i thought they should be personal to you. at least a little.”

“hm.” he took another drink, feeling the heat warm him from the inside out. “i expected you to ask about alys. or my family.”

“i will never ask. you will tell me when you are ready. even if you are never ready, i don’t mind.”

he looked at her for a long moment, watching the firelight dance across her features. she wasn’t a cold, glamorous beauty like alys, certainly, but she had a feeling about her that made him feel at ease. pretty and warm. like firelight.

“blue,” he answered after a long moment. “my favorite color is blue.”

———

you’ll be glad of the cloak later, y/n had said.

she had been right, of course, but aemond was loath to admit it.

it had been six months now since y/n had found him, and as unsettling as the fact was for him to admit, he enjoyed her company greatly. she was amusing, and kind, and respectful. she sang as she worked some days, while he did the little he could to help around the house, and he swore sometimes the birds stopped to listen. he was fascinated by her every move, her sewing that she showed him in the evenings, the baking of bread in the mornings, the way her thighs and hips moved and flexed when she walked or knelt before the trees she worshiped, the peeks of her body he could see when she bent over and he could see down her dress. she wore mostly loose, light clothing, so she could move around, but sometimes, in the rains, or on hot, damp days, her clothes would stick to the shape of her, and he could almost imagine what she-.

he wrapped the deep blue fabric tighter around him and tried to focus on his prayers. “father, give me the strength to-.”

“what on earth are you doing?” his singular eye snapped open. the object of his musings was standing there with a basket of mushrooms on her hip, looking at him curiously. “you do know that that it is about to rain?”

the neckline of her loose cotton dress had slipped down, and he could see the curve of her shoulder and the hollow of her collarbone. he grunted a response. “i do.”

“and yet you are out here, kneeling against a rock?”

he shuffled his knees slightly. “praying.”

she snickered. “how pious, to sit in the damp and muck, to get dirt on your clothes. tell me, prince, do your gods require you to put mud in your septs as well, that you may kneel in a way that is more pleasing to them?”

he scoffed. “no. the septs are made to be holy places.”

she hummed softly. “so then, this is not a holy place?”

“unholy things happen here all the time.” y/n smirked slightly and he swore under his breath. “wait, fuck, no, you know that’s not what i meant-.”

“no, no, you already said it. you can’t go back now.”

he groaned audibly. “you are insufferable.”

“and unholy, it would seem.” y/n shifted the basket on her hip, walking over to stand next to him, smiling mischievously down at him. “tell me, prince, what have i done that is so sinful?”

“other than practice witchcraft and idolatry?”

“those are both bad points. my gods might say you are practicing witchcraft and idolatry just the same. both of us would be right, and therefore neither of us would be.”

“you are annoyingly intelligent.” he stood up and brushed the dirt from his knees, his still-healing arm protesting at the movement. she noticed him wince and touched his arm in concern, pushing back his shirt and inspecting the scar. aemond could feel her breath on his shoulder, the soft touches of her fingertips along the ragged skin. the first drops of rain started to fall on the two of them, and a drop fell on y/n’s face, running down her nose and into the corner of her perfectly kissable- no. that was a terrible idea.

“we should get inside.” she brushed a raindrop from her hair, and before he could stop himself, he reached up and pushed the offending strands behind her ear.

she froze, looking up at him, her lips slightly parted. in her own mind, she admired the arch of his nose, the intense, deep violet of his eye. he was so, so close, close enough to-.

“yes.” he cleared his throat. “yes, inside.” he started to follow her before halting suddenly. “y/n?”

she turned to him. “yes.”

aemond took a deep breath. “alys. she put a love spell on me.she stole away years of my life, she… i only realized it the day i almost- well. the day i met you. it’s why i didn’t like them. witches.”

she nodded in understanding, then tilted her head. “and now?”

aemond blinked. “now what?”

“do you like them now?”

he looked at her, taking in the way her hair curled in the damp of the rain. “i like some of them.”

———

their clothes were steaming slightly in the heat of the fire. the rain had soaked through them on their way back home, and aemond had immediately lit a fire in the hearth. it felt good, to him: to be able to do something for her. y/n did most things, he mused. she had taken him in when she didn’t have to, risking her own life to save his. right now, she was kneeling in front of the fire, contemplating the flames.

tension was thick in the air. both of them seemed far too aware of what had nearly transpired in the rain, as the secretive glances and brushes of hands had built up over the months. both of them were aware that they needed to change out of their soaking wet clothes, but neither seemed to want to move, frozen next to each other and staring into the heat. until y/n’s hand flexed slightly, almost imperceptibly, linking her little finger with aemond’s.

something in him snapped at the touch, and he leaned down, pressing a kiss to her mouth and pulling away abruptly. they looked at each other for a long moment, cheeks flaming, before y/n reached up, tangling her hands in his hair and pulling his lips down to meet her own. it wasn’t a gentle kiss, rather rough and passionate, filled with things he wanted to say to her, but could not articulate. instead, his hands made their way up her sides, grasping at the soft flesh and pulling moans from her lips. she gripped his shirt tightly, tugging the damp fabric eagerly in her rush to get it off.

he pushed her away, panting slightly, and pulled his shirt off slowly, watching her reaction. y/n’s eyes traced the pattern of the scars from the wounds she had stitched together those months ago. she walked forward and brushed the raised skin with gentle fingertips before leaning down and pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to his collarbone, right at the apex of the scar.

aemond tilted his head back at the touch of her lips and exhaled, eye fluttering shut. y/n made her way back up his neck, leaving soft pink marks in her wake. aemond opened his eye, taking her in again, before turning her gently with a touch to her shoulder and beginning to unlace her dress. he bit gently at the junction of her shoulder and neck as the dress fell from her body, before laving over the mark with his tongue. he stepped back, taking in her newly-naked body. he raised his eyebrow slightly. “nothing underneath?”

y/n shook her head, cheeks flaming and lips swollen. “it’s been too hot before now.”

aemond’s pupil dilated. “you mean, you’ve been walking around with nothing underneath your gown all day?”

y/n laughed sheepishly, ducking her head down to avoid his hungry gaze. “i’m surprised you didn’t notice.”

he crossed the space between them in one long stride and took her face in his hand, kissing her roughly while palming the flesh of her tits, eliciting a moan from her lips. she took his hand in hers and brought it down to the apex of her thighs, guiding his fingers to her clit and moaning softly when they made contact with the swollen flesh. he stroked the nub gently at first, testing her reactions, then circling it roughly. in return, she hesitantly brushed her fingers over the prominent tent in his trousers. at his encouraging groan, she gripped him tighter, feeling the thick length in her hand. he took her hand and guided it inside his pants, groaning deeply into her mouth when she gripped him and began to stroke him gently, then harder, her hand already lubricated with the precum dripping from his tip.

aemond pushed her gently backwards, walking her into her bedroom, not bothering to disconnect their lips. he quickly registered that he had never been in her room before y/n’s knees hit the bed and they buckled, pulling him on top of her in a tangle of limbs and lips. he vaguely felt y/n’s hands tugging his trousers down over his hips and gripping his cock again, stroking it before guiding it to her entrance. he pushed in slowly, his shoulders tensing with the effort of staying gentle for her.

y/n pressed soft kisses to aemond’s face, peppering them around the eye patch he still hadn’t removed. he frowned slightly, thinking she meant to take it off, but she shook her head. “no,” she whispered. “not ‘til you’re ready.”

he kissed her again in gratitude and began to move within her, relishing in the feeling of the tight, wet heat of her cunt. y/n smiled into his mouth, clenching around him when he hit a particular place inside her that made her tilt her head back into his hand and moan his name into his shoulder. he smiled into her hair before groaning when she began to thrust her hips back up into his, meeting his thrusts beat for beat. y/n reached down between their bodies and began to circle her clit harshly, crying out in pleasure and coming hard when he thrust particularly deep, gushing around him and spurring him into his own orgasm. he groaned her name into her shoulder, spilling deep inside her and resting his head on her chest. y/n chuckled softly, running her hands through his silver hair. he pressed a chaste kiss to her breast as he came down from his high, before looking back up at her. “thank you,” he said quietly.

y/n laughed again. “what on earth for?”

“everything. saving me. this. thank you.”

she hummed softly in response. “are you sure you’re not too bothered about owing your life to a witch?” she teased gently.

“somehow i think i’ll manage.” he rolled off of her and slid up on the bed, pulling her into his chest. “what happened with vhagar’s body?” he asked after a moment.

“nothing. it’s about three miles away from here. she was a bit too big for me to bury by myself.”

“ah.” he ran his fingers over her shoulder and hesitated. “could we go and see her? i never really got to say goodbye.”

“mm. i’ll take you tomorrow.”

#hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #game of thrones x reader #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #hotd #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x reader

298 notes · View notes

inevitably-johnlocked · 4 months

Note

hey hey steph! good morning or afternoon, wherever you are . just seeing if you have any fic lists that center mainly around sherlock’s time away/sherl in serbia?

Hey Nonny!

Ah, I have made a community post here before called Aftermath of Serbia / Serbia Fics (Dec 2022) that have several fics on it that you may enjoy, as well as some fics on my blog tag here that has some other fics not on the above Community post. AND I also have some similar lists linked below!

I went through my bookmarks and my MFL lists, and did a keyword search and organized them below, so I hope this satisfies the need!

And these aren't meant to be confused with Post-S2 fics! These are fics that deal SPECIFICALLY with Sherlock's time away and the trauma it caused! If you have a fic that fits that bill, please add it! This is a list that's been long-time coming, since I've been asked a lot for them :)

SERBIA / AFTERMATH OF HIATUS FICS