#BigBang smut

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Pearl of The Realm | Sneak Peek

Story Warnings: arranged marriage, canon-typical sexism, smut, 18+, loss of virginity, oral sex (f receiving), fingering

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

A/N: This story has some wonderful art done by @aegonx which will be available to view alongside the full fic when HOTD Big Bang is in full swing 😙 in the meantime, enjoy the teaser!

He knew that he would eventually have to marry someone, but it did little to take the sting away from it. Often, while his mother talked at him, he looked down at his boots, shifting his weight from his right, to his left, and to his right, again, batting little thoughts in his head.  What his mother didn’t know is what those ladies at court said about him while they supposed his back was turned. That he was of a violent disposition with a quarrelsome temper, one wrong movement or something as simple as a word spoken out of turn and he would dare not speak to the person in question for however long he deemed fit. That women thought of him as incapable of feeling something as beautiful as love, or even affection, given the sullen look he always wore, with barely-contained anger lurking beneath and an unexpressed pride in his position.  Aemond would never show that such words would have any effect on him with earnest. Sometimes it is better to not say anything at all, he concluded. This method had so often proven successful, it seemed little use to him to stray from it now.  He merely hoped that this woman his mother spoke of with such respect, was not one of the ladies at court. 

Coming to @hotd-bigbang in November '23!

[artaxlivs]

There's dancing. And some good communication. And plenty of smut because "smut montage" should be a thing. Also a bonus Chrissy/Robin background thing that happens. And the platonic Stobin is representing as always in my fics because we all need a Robin.

[neweydition]

V I B E

[scribendis]

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝

Aemond Targaryen x female reader (third person perspective) ❖ husband & wife

Warnings: smut, dry humping, p in v sex, semi-public sex, newlyweds being horny, little bit of profanity, breeding kink if you squint really, really hard Rating: 18+ MDNI Word count: ~3,500

Summary: Upon returning to camp from a hunt in the Kingswood, Aemond looks for a way to keep his wife warm on a bitterly cold night.

A/N: Serendipitously conceptualized ages ago but written (very late!) for the first week of the @hotd-bigbang winter word prompts challenge - Fire | Furs | Forest

Dividers by @saradika | AO3 link

The setting sun cast long shadows across the small city of tents that made up the hunting camp in the Kingswood. While the men had spent the day combing the forest for boars, stags, and other game, the women had occupied the main tent. They gorged themselves on cakes and other sweets, all the while indulging in gossip that ranged from the salacious to the downright treasonous. 

And, much to the chagrin of the new wife of Prince Aemond Targaryen, they pestered her endlessly about the burgeoning love life of her and her husband. She quickly learned that, to be a woman in the king’s court meant sharing every last, excruciating detail of one’s “wifely duties” so that the others could compare them with their own. So that they could all know whose husbands fucked them the best and complain about their own lackluster experiences. 

They questioned her until she was beet-red in the face and one of the older women finally called for an end to her torment. Still, it would taste a lie for her to say that all their titillating conversation about lovemaking had not made her ache desperately for her husband. 

But by the time that night finally claimed the sprawling camp, the men had still not returned from the hunt. It signaled to the waiting wives that their husbands would come back without their prize, frustrated and exhausted - and that they would later fall into their beds reeking of wine. 

The call of horns and the distant sound of barking hounds was their cue to don their furs and exit the tent to greet the arriving men. The prince’s wife was glad for the fur-lined cloak that her husband had procured for her for just such an occasion as this. She was even more grateful for the garment as she exited the tent only to be met with the sting of the cold night air on her cheek. The women elected to wait for their husbands by the bonfire that raged in the middle of the camp, its light their only source of warmth as frost began to settle on the Kingswood. 

It was easy for her to spot her husband among the group of riders, his long silver hair unmistakable in the light of the rising moon. Whatever otherworldly quality his Valyrian features gave him seemed amplified tonight - and it made the sight of him astride a horse even more odd to her. Were her husband any other lord of the realm, his approach on horseback would not have seemed out of place. But Targaryens were no horse riders. Still, Aemond effortlessly commanded the steed beneath him, his mastery reminiscent of the way he would handle a dragon.

As the crowd of riders began to disperse, her eyes remained fixed on her husband. Amid the thundering of horses’ hooves and the raucous laughter of the noble lords, Aemond's attention, too, was solely focused on her. The intensity of his gaze only intensified her excitement, eliciting a gentle flutter in her belly.

With grace and ease, Aemond slipped off of the horse’s back. A waiting servant took his leather riding gloves from him, but Aemond could very well have let them fall to the dirt for as little attention as he paid to anyone but her. 

Aemond was always loath to indulge in any public affection, aside from the occasional hand at the small of his wife’s back or a brief touch upon her cheek. Even now that he was reunited with her after such a long day apart, his restraint came in the form of a soft kiss brushed against her temple and nothing more. But the way that his arm wrapped around her and his hand dared to wander much lower than her waist - and the way his eye held hers so intently - told her just how much he had missed her. How much he needed her.

Given Aemond’s usually stoic demeanor, she had never thought that he would be needy, but he had proven to be just that in the few weeks since they had been wed. They had already made love in the depths of the palace library more times than she could count, and discovered countless other hidden places throughout the Keep where his hands had found their way up her skirts and his lips had left marks on her neck. Some mornings, he would forego training altogether to stay in bed with her with his face between her legs or his cock buried inside her. 

And he had not heard a single complaint from her yet. 

“Ābrazȳrys, your skin is cold to the touch,” Aemond commented, a hint of concern lacing his soft voice. His lips lingered at her temple for a moment longer before he withdrew, taking one of her hands in his. “As are your fingers.” (wife)

She smiled. His own hand was as warm as ever. “I am no dragon like you, dear husband. The cold night air chills me to the bone.”

“And the furs I gave you do not suffice?” he asked, quirking a brow.

She shook her head. “Nor the bonfire.” 

Aemond hummed, his displeasure at such an assurance quite clear. He brought her fingers to his lips, blowing warm air on them before kissing them. “Come, jorrāeliarza. I have another idea for how we might offer you some warmth on such a cold night.” (beloved)

Still with an arm drawn around her, he swiftly guided her around the bonfire and, to her surprise, past the royal tent where food, wine, and music awaited them. She glanced over her shoulder questioningly at the entrance to the tent, from which poured an inviting golden light, but Aemond seemed determined on his path. 

“Aemond, are we… not going inside?” 

A smirk tugged at his lips, and she noticed a mischievous twinkle in his eye as they passed a flickering torch. “I thought I would spare you any further conversation with the ladies of the court.”

“And I thank you for that, dear husband,” she said with a laugh, her words falling from her lips in fleeting clouds of mist that looked like she was breathing smoke. “But I do not think–”

Aemond stopped them in their tracks and turned to her, staying any further words by sweeping in to press his lips firmly against hers. “Lykirī.” (Be calm.)

Once freed from his bruising kiss, she stood, dazed, for a moment before any further thoughts could come to her - something that her husband had certainly noticed given the grin that spread across his lips. She pushed him away playfully with a little scoff and an over-exaggerated look of annoyance that drew a rare chuckle from him.

“I am not one of your Targaryen dragons,” she protested, drawing her furs tighter around herself. “Those… dragon commands won’t work on me.”

Aemond leaned in to meet her at eye level, offering an arm to her that she took. “But it did work, did it not?”

She was still none the wiser about their destination as her husband quickly guided them beyond the boundaries of the camp and toward the treeline. The leaves had taken on stunning hues of red, orange, and yellow, a sight that she had marveled at from within the wheelhouse on their way into the Kingswood that morning. But in the cover of night, that beauty was lost to the pitch-black darkness. Not even the light of the moon could permeate the thick canopy of trees, leaving the forest an endless void. 

She did not fear the darkness, only the occasional sound of a twig snapping or the call of some unknown creature. As husband and wife disappeared from the sight of the camp, she found herself clutching onto him more tightly. 

“Aemond, where are we going?” she whispered as though speaking at full volume would topple one of the mighty trees. 

“Patience, jorrāeliarza.”

“What if there are wolves out here, Aemond–”

“There are no predators in the Kingswood. And, if there were,” Aemond turned to her and took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, brushing the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip, “do you think that I would let them harm even a single hair on your head?” He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before releasing her. “Do not worry. We can stop here.”

She glanced around, seeing the pleasant glow of the camp in the near distance and nothing but darkness everywhere else. “Here?” 

“I thought, perhaps, you would want to be a bit further from camp…” he purred. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to see him lean in. One of his hands reached up to pull her furs aside and his lips found her neck, warm and soft as they began to kiss her skin. She felt his hum vibrate against her pulse point, where her heartbeat fluttered wildly. “Given how loud you can be, dōna ābrazȳrys.”

A gasp left her and her head tilted away from his lips, begging silently for more. Tomorrow would call for yet another dress with a high neckline, she thought. 

“I’ve… I’ve not heard that one before…” He regularly called her all manner of names in High Valyrian. She often found him muttering to himself in his ancestral tongue. One night, he had even spoken it in his sleep. She knew a small handful of words, but only those few. “What does that mean?”

“Sweet wife,” Aemond breathed against her neck, leaving a bit of warmth behind before his lips captured hers once again. “You taste sweet tonight, too.”

“It must be the… the wine, I think,” she gasped. “Or the lemon cakes…” 

But the growing hunger inside him was not for the sweetness of cakes or Arbor gold. 

He kissed her more deeply this time, lips coaxing hers apart to taste her tongue for himself. His hands fell to her hips, fingers digging into her soft flesh to draw her body against his. And, in doing so, he finally offered her the warmth he had previously promised her - one that not even the hottest bonfire could provide. 

As his fingers began to deftly ruck up her skirts, she felt her skin prickle. At the same time, an entirely different kind of heat began to spread through her until it found its familiar place between her legs. Moaning softly into their continued kiss, she dropped her hands to the closure of his trousers, where his obvious arousal strained against the dark fabric. 

“Gods, Aemond, you're so hard and I've barely touched you," she breathed against his lips. “Did you miss me?” But she knew the answer, and how pleasing it was to know just how badly she had been missed that day. 

His only reply was a grunt that rose in his throat as his hands slipped beneath her smallclothes and all but tore them from her. Despite the rough, calloused spots on his palms and fingers, his warm touch was a balm against the cold night air. In a swift, almost aggressive motion, he lifted her by her arse so that she had no choice but to envelop his hips with her legs. It taunted her, the feeling of his hard cock pressing against her wet entrance. His trousers were a tedious, unwanted barrier between them. 

Their passionate embrace only became more heated as Aemond pinned her to the trunk of one of the trees and his body pressed firmly against hers. She squirmed, inadvertently causing friction between her clit and his still-clothed hardness that was too delicious to keep a moan from stuttering past her lips. 

“It would seem that you missed me as well, jorrāeliarza,” he rasped with a playful smirk. Teasingly, he rolled his hips against hers to coax another one of those sweet sounds from her. “Come on. Take what you need.”

She needed no further convincing, as great as the ache between her legs had grown. Her grip on the collar of his longcoat tightened and she took over, rocking her hips against his at a slow, but steady, pace. Each gasp and moan that left her lips billowed from them in a smoke-like mist, until she tucked her head into the crook of her husband’s neck and the sounds became muffled against his throat. He smelled of horse and sweat and, if she searched for it, the soap he had used the night before. But he tasted divine as her lips began to pepper open-mouthed kisses against his skin.

Judging by the trembling breaths that she felt against her hair, this teasing was just as pleasurable for her husband as it was for her. His own grip on her arse tightened, as though he was fighting to hold on. Knowing him, he wanted only the satisfaction of spilling himself inside her. 

But his own torture would not go on for much longer, as her rutting against him was quickly bringing her to the brink of release. Her pace quickened, desperate as she was to reach it. Finally, the pleasure inside her began to unfurl and its warmth spread through her. From head to toe, it enveloped her completely as though she had been submerged into a hot bath.   

It was exactly as Aemond had promised. In the grips of her climax, the frigid air mattered little, if at all.

Gasping for breath as she came down again, she pressed her lips to his and he received her kiss greedily. No doubt he was desperate for his own release after watching her come apart - and how could she refuse him?

“You know,” she began as her hands fell to his trousers once again. Only, this time, her fingers made quick work of the closures. “Earlier, all the women wanted to know how good you are in bed.”

Their gazes locked and, even in the darkness of the forest, she could see the almost animalistic desire in his one good eye. But as desperate as he was to be inside her, he seemed almost equally as intrigued by her words. She freed his cock from the confines of his trousers and took it into her hand. Her simple act of stroking him once was enough to draw a low groan out of him.

“Fucking gossips,” Aemond replied huskily. His lips drew close to hers but did not quite meet them. “Do I wish to know what you told them?”

She grinned. Her fingers guided his cock to her slick entrance but stopped there momentarily. “I told them–” Her words were cut off by a moan as he buried himself inside her quickly and without warning. “Oh, fuck…”

“Oh, fuck?” Aemond repeated teasingly, raising a brow. “Am I so bad at it, jorrāeliarza?” The smug look of satisfaction on his face belied any attempts at fooling her into thinking that he believed that to be her true confession earlier that day. 

Too impatient, he began to move his hips against hers - and she met each of his slow, steady thrusts with movements of her own. Misty air surrounded them amid their shared panting, both of them relishing in the sensation of becoming one again after such a long day apart.

She allowed her head to fall back against the tree, where strands of her hair began to tangle in its rough bark. But she hardly noticed or cared at all, especially as her husband’s lips reclaimed her neck and his hot breaths swept along the contours of her jaw. 

“Ābrazȳrys.”

She became so lost in the carnal pleasure of his cock sliding in and out of her that Aemond’s voice barely reached her. It did not help at all that his pace began to quicken as the heat between them grew to a simmer. The cry of pleasure that left her mingled with the sounds of the forest, joining the nighttime symphony of hooting owls and the rustling of the crisp underbrush.

“What did you tell them?” Aemond pressed. His own composure was starting to fail him and his words came out strained. 

A breathy laugh left her. He always purported to care little about what the members of his father’s court thought of him. But, evidently, that sentiment did not extend to his wife and her opinions. 

She placed a hand on his cheek to pull his lips to hers, kissing him deeply as pleasure began to coil inside her anew. “I told them,” she panted, her eyes opening to meet his, “that my husband is not the one riding the largest dragon in the world.”

Whatever Aemond had expected her to say, it clearly was not that. For a moment, his hips stilled and he looked as stunned as the ladies had been when she had uttered those same words that morning. One of them had even spilled a full cup of wine down her pale blue dress as she stared at her like some startled animal. 

“My, my…” he purred.

But his look of shock fell away just as quickly. Replacing it was a ferocity that she had never seen from him before. A hunger that her words had awakened inside him which only she could satiate. There were no more soft words of love, or the usual names he called her while making love to her. His fingers dug almost painfully into her hips and he resumed his movements against her. 

Aemond quickly built up a brutal pace, the head of his cock hitting that spot inside her that made her toes curl inside her shoes. Any thoughts or complaints about how bitterly cold it was outside had been long forgotten, drunk as she was on the intensity of the pleasure he was fucking into her her. Even her moans began to leave her in choked gasps and broken mewls that, if anyone in the hunting camp heard her, would have sounded no different than the calls of some creature of the forest.

She could feel it, the straining of her muscles and the tightening of her insides. The tremble that overtook her as she hurtled toward the edge along with him. She felt like a handkerchief being squeezed of water, and he would not stop his tightening of her until he had wrung her of every last drop.  

Her eyes fluttering, she leaned in to capture Aemond’s lips in a kiss that he did not reciprocate in his own carnal pursuit of release. “Aemond…” “Mm-mm,” he chided, his tone gruffer and far lower than she had ever heard it. “I want to see you.” 

One of his hands released its grip on her arse and moved to the nape of her neck to hold her firmly and ensure she could not look away. As he watched her, he groaned deeply in his own fight to hold on until he could get precisely what he wanted. 

And it only took three simple words from him to finish her at last.

“Cum for me.” 

Like a dam breaking, all the building pleasure that had been twisting inside her released. Coaxed by the continued pounding of his hips against hers, it spread into every extremity as her body shuddered and her cries of ecstasy filled the dense, frosty air. The fluttering of her walls around him soon spelled the end for him, too. With a few more ragged thrusts, he found his release inside her.

His eye squeezed shut. His lips, kiss-swollen, parted. And then, a certain look of peace overtook him.  

Although still lost in her own haze of pleasure, she watched him closely - and she decided that he had never looked more beautiful. 

They remained in their loving embrace, neither one wanting to pull away from the other just yet. Her, with her legs still encircling his hips, and him, with one hand holding her up and the other at her neck. Aemond pressed his forehead to hers and his thumb began to caress her cheek tenderly.

She hadn’t spoken of these moments to the women of the court that day. About how her husband could fuck her within an inch of her life and, immediately thereafter, treat her with such affection and softness. With such devotion in each caress of his fingers and every soft word he uttered.

Their breathing soon began to slow once again and the world around them finally came back into view. Smiling, she brushed the tip of her nose against his before kissing him so deeply that he hummed in surprise. But he reciprocated earnestly, slowly setting her back down on the ground but never quite letting her go.

“We should return to the camp,” Aemond said as he re-adjusted her furs on her shoulders. “I would not have you catch your death out here in the cold, jorrāeliarza.”

A sweet grin spread across her lips, but something wicked glistened in her eyes. “Oh, but my husband has already given me all the warmth I require.”

[sapphire-writes]

Beneath the Cherry Tree

pairing: Helaena x Reader

summary: Helaena and her lady sneak away to the gardens.

word count: 700

warnings: 18+ sapphic smut (fingering/oral)

a/n: feeling very sapphic! suprise! thanks @hotd-bigbang for inspiring this smutty little slice. enjoy! moodboard by my ride or die @undertheorangetree

The gardens were her favorite place in the Keep. Though her mother found solace in the silence of the Sept, Helaena was most at peace in the sunshine. 

The chatter of birds, the buzzing of bees, the sunlight warming her face as she lay beneath her favorite tree. Here beneath the cherry tree, she was almost floating, not laying, on the cushion of soft green grass. A warm breeze rolled through, sending the pale pink blossoms shivering above her on their thin branches. 

A sharp bolt of pleasure ran through her body, anchoring her to this world. A gasp slipped through her rosy lips as her gaze traveled down to the figure at work between her legs. Skirt bunched to her waist, she’d come to the gardens with her favorite lady in waiting nearly half an hour earlier. 

Giggling they’d escaped the lessons with their Septa, nearly bored to tears. All Helaena’s doing of course. Hands laced together they’d made their way deep into the gardens before collapsing into a heap of skirts and kisses beneath Helaena’s cherry tree. 

It didn’t take long for those sweet kisses to become more urgent, more desperate. 

“Oh,” Helaena sighed, as her lady’s tongue traced circles around her pearl. “Gods above.”

Her lady hummed, hands squeezing the soft flesh of Helaena’s thighs, holding them apart as she began to tremble with her imminent release approaching. When she is finally thrown from the precipice of pleasure Helaena bites the back of her hand to silence the pitiful wail that escapes her. 

Her lady hums, purring like a pleased kitten as she places soft kisses on Helaena’s sensitive cunny before lifting herself on her haunches. 

She smiles at the princess and her blissed-out expression, crawling on top of her and placing another kiss on her pretty pink lips. Helaena moans in satisfaction at the taste of herself on her ladies’ tongue, nipping at her lower lip.

Her lady sighs contentedly, rolling to lay beside her princess. 

“It is a pretty tree,” she murmurs, as Helaena props herself on her elbow, stroking her cheek as she lies beside her.

“It's my favorite,” Helaena murmurs, though she is not looking up at the pink blossoms. She leans forward, placing a chaste kiss on her lady’s mouth. 

“Is it?” her lady asks, breath hitching as Helaena’s fingers trail down the side of her neck, dancing down her collarbone and over the swell of her breasts.

Helaena wordlessly nods her head.

“Mother shall be looking for me,” she says with a soft sigh, her fingers trailing the front of her lady’s corset, down further as she bunches the edges of her skirt in her fist. She tugs the material upwards before releasing it from her grasp, hand trailing up the softness of her companion’s thighs.

“She’ll not be pleased.” 

“I suppose we should be on our way then,” her lady says, breath hitching on the final word as Helaena’s delicate fingers reach her smallclothes. 

“I suppose,” Helaena says, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth as her fingers sneak beneath her smallclothes. “Just another moment.”

Her companion’s back arches off the soft grass as Helaena’s fingers sink inside her, a dreamlike smile appearing on the princess’s face at that sound of pleasure that leaves her lips. 

Her fingers crook upwards and she hums in satisfaction as her lady squeezes her eyes shut.

It doesn’t take long, nor does it ever, for Helaena to push her toward release. Soon her thighs clamp together and a curse escapes her as Helaena silences her cry of pleasure with a kiss. 

“I love you,” the dragon princess sighed when their lips finally parted. She cozies up to her companion, bringing her fingers to her mouth to savor the sweetness of her release. 

Her lady turns to her, pulling her fingers from her mouth.

“Don’t do that,” she murmurs, eyes downcast in shyness. 

“Why not?” Helaena insists, “You’re sweeter than lemon cakes.”

“Hush,” her lady scolds, but a pleased smile adorns her face. 

Helaena turns on her back again, gazing up at the tree with pink petals. 

“I love you too,” her companion says softly, fingers intertwining with Helaena’s.

The princess simply smiles.

“I know.”

~~~~

link to other stories from me!

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[irlbokuto]

Saltwater Prayer  |  Explicit |  54.4k

My project for the 2023 Steddie BigBang! @steddiebang

Author: Asgardian_Pirate (AO3) / ghostlypallor (Twitter) / @fenfics (Tumblr) Artist: @werew0rm (Twitter) / @werew0rm (Tumblr) Artist: glitterfangart (Twitter) / @glitterfang (Tumblr)

Fragile things need a tender hand. In the height of a Georgia summer, Steve visits a small town painted with memories of Eddie’s childhood. Wayne welcomes Steve into an unfamiliar pace of family life—with good food, good company, and a boundless wisdom. The slow crawl of the heat helps to open his heart and the river is there to catch what spills out.  But the water doesn’t promise gentleness as much as it promises change. Desires simmering beneath the surface push at the seams of his glued-together pieces. As he learns the shape of Eddie’s mosaic, Steve slowly unravels the tapestry of his own golden soul.

Fic | Art | Art | Playlist

Pairings: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Characters: Steve Harrington; Eddie Munson; Wayne Munson; Original Characters; Minor Characters Tags: AU — Canon Divergent; Post-S4; POV Steve Harrington; Slow Burn; Friends to Lovers; Drama; Angst; Trauma; Suicidal Ideation; Internalized Ableism; Domestic; Nostalgia; Eventual Smut; Wayne Munson Lore; Munson Family Lore; A Touch of Southern Gothic; Non-Traditional Spirituality; Happy Ending

[ripdragonbeans]

Look At Me /modern!Aegon x Reader

My fic for the HOTD Big Bang! You can follow all the fics @hotd-bigbang

Lovely mood board, banner, and dividers by the beautiful @ewanmitchellcrumbs and my beautiful betaa were @asa-do-your-thing and @khaleesihel

WARNINGS: angst, smut, p in v, she/her pronouns, voyeurism???, oral (f and m receiving), physical violence (reader has some anger [not towards Aegon])

"God fucking dammit," you muttered as you reached out to open the unlocked door to your shared apartment with Aegon.

An unlocked door meant one thing: Aegon brought another girl back for a quick, thoughtless fuck. After countless years of suffering this, starting in your freshman year, one would think it would be easy to ignore without a thought. This night, however, was not the ideal night to handle Aegon’s shenanigans. Work had you tiresomely stretched out, often staying up all night to meet deadlines: an old habit you optimistically thought would cease after college. On top of that, lately it felt unbearing, that the universe seemed to have dismissed you, seizing every opportunity to strip you from an ounce of joy or serenity.

The small yet infuriating incidents from spilling coffee all over yourself or dropping a burger over your work attire, pens running out of ink at times you desperately needed them, your computer randomly restarting for an update, it was everything bundling and boiling up to breaking point… And it felt like tonight was that night.

Taking a deep breath, mentally trying to prepare yourself for the incessant and unfortunate familiar banging of the walls, alongside the mindless moans and grunts, you turned the handle and stepped into the room.

Nothing. There was nothing.

Worry pierced through your head. The door was unlocked so Aegon had to be here, right? You paced across the hall, keeping your steps as silent as possible when you arrived at Aegon's door. Pressing your ear against the door, hoping to idly eavesdrop into a conversation, yet all you could gather was silence from the other side.

"Aegon?" You enquired through the wooden shield of the door. "Aegon, are you in there?" Now ardently knocking on the door a little harder than you should. "Aegon, please! Please tell me -"

The door swung open to reveal a pissed off woman clad only in a matching set of lace underwear.

"Who the fuck is this, Aegon?" She looked you up and down with distaste

Aegon gave a little chuckle. "Don't worry, Sara, that's just my roommate."

You peered past her to see Aegon laying on his bed with only grey sweatpants on. He had a lazy smile on his face and gave you a knowing wink. Blush crept up your neck to your cheeks and you had hoped Aegon hadn’t caught a glimpse at your bashful state. Yet despite the mild distance between you two, you could see him scan your face. His smile grew when he noticed the pink shade across your cheeks. He rather enjoyed making you envious, basking in your natural reactions. All you needed was a little more pressure from him to admit the truth.

Or at least that's what he believed.

"You didn't tell me you had one," she glanced over you once again, "but I guess it's nothing to worry about."

"My roomie is no one, babe, I promise," he said as he gave her a flirtatious wink, a habit he seemed to share with the entire female campus.

"Hmmm…good." She slammed the door leaving you stunned and to some honest degree, honesty, irritated.

No one. He said you were no one, his harsh words echoing in your restless mind.

A tight sensation began to burden your chest, and hot tears threatened to fall, yet you shoved it all down, swallowing the large gulp painfully caught your throat, just like you always did. Consuming the raw heartbreak, you gather yourself and the mental walls, you hid yourself behind in defense, slowly making your return to the living room.

If you went to your room it was a given that you would hear everything that was a realistic and harsh possibility, yet you found your feet moving towards the familiar space. A few minutes passed until you heard a faint moan echoing from the direction of Aegon’s room and the light banging of the bed against the wall. Sighing in defeat, you place your noise canceling headphones on and searching up YouTube to mindlessly watch some video essay explaining this new ARG, Welcome Home. You found that submerging your senses to the very unnerving voice of Wally Darling was a great way to tune out the other background noises..

As much as you loved Aegon, you could never not be annoyed by this grotesque habit of his. Every other week was a new girl to fuck and mess about with, with no care nor implications in the world. None of them ever meant anything to him, you knew that much. No, you could tell. His lilac eyes never lit up when he saw them, his warm smile never reached his eyes, and he never talked about them willingly. The only times he would mention them was whenever he remembered to give you a heads up that he'd have one of them over for the night. You figured if he was inviting them over they'd be decent people, respectable enough to acknowledge your presence. You had hoped they'd be decent because Aegon deserved at least that. Whenever they'd show up you would do your best to be polite and welcoming in a weirdly humourous way, one time you’d even blurted to some poor victim of his hookup "hey you're here to suck my roommate", only to be disregarded and treated like utter shit. It was as though you didn't exist.

More so, you despised the way he acted when one of them came over, putting on some macho facade. Aegon would become old Aegon. The Aegon you initially met, the one who wore the mask of a guy who didn't give a fuck about anyone or anything. He was snarky and cocky, with the only priority of having the highest known body count. Yet you knew better, you saw through that careless exterior. After being paired together on assignment you two started hanging out. About a month or two after the project was assigned, he opened up. He played the part of the college frat fuckboy flawlessly, yet you could see right through that. You did your best to be someone he could trust; you knew there was more to him. Soon enough, your assignment partner became your best friend, your go to person, a person you'd do anything for. And that's how you ended up sharing an apartment with Aegon.

But there was something else.

There was a tug drawing you to him. Whenever you were away from Aegon there was a palpable ache in your heart. Whenever a sorority girl stayed the night your heart shattered, only to be slowly put together the next day by your very own hands. At the time you didn't want to admit it to yourself but eventually you had to.

It wasn't terrible at first. You lived a domestic life with your best friend with no worry in the world. Until he started bringing friends home. Just the occasional random girl moaning in his room once a month or so but now it was every other week. You hate to admit it but it hurt. It hurt so fucking much. You wished it was you in that room but you wouldn't tell him. It would ruin your friendship.

You loved Aegon, not just as a friend but as something more. The only problem was that you loved Aegon so much that you'd want him to be happy, even if it meant seeing him being with other girls. Yet you could never see yourself with someone else, only with him.

After watching every single reaction video to Welcome Home, Sara finally left Aegon's room wearing one of his shirts.

"See you next time, roomie," she said as she gave you a mocking smile before exiting the apartment.

You rolled your eyes as you started to pick up your laptop to move to your room when you heard him enter.

"Done with your fucking for the night?" You refused to look at him.

"Yeah," he leaned against the wall. "Unless you wanna be my round two."

"I'm not interested in sloppy seconds, Aeg. Next time just give me a heads-up, yeah? I don't like coming home to your moans."

"Oh, you know you love coming home to my moans," he teased. He loved riling you up like this.

"Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night. Unlike me, who has to endure your headboard slamming against the wall," you bit out.

Aegon was taken aback by your sudden hostility and couldn’t fathom a response. Taking his silence as confirmation that he didn't care, you finished gathering your stuff and headed to your room. But as you passed Aegon, he abruptly stepped in front of you, halting you in your tracks.

"Hey, you're not seriously mad at me, are you?" His brows furrowed worriedly. "It's been a few months of this and now you're getting upset about it?"

"In case you haven't noticed, I've been annoyed with this the whole time." You sighed and rubbed your tiresome eyes. "It wasn't too bad at first, I could ignore it fine but then it kept happening more and more often than favored. Each girl was more terrible to me than the last. And you never do shit about it, you never defend me. You seemed perfectly happy to let these one night stands walk all over your best friend, it seems." You glared at him, "You said I was nothing, Aegon.. I understand you put on this whole facade to get laid but that… that was cold, Aeg… Even for you. You're back to your old habits and it makes me want to run. Anyway," you took a deep breath, wanting this conversation to end, "I'm going to bed, I’m too tired for this right now… Night, Aegon."

He called your name and adamantly tried to follow you. You knew Aegon didn't like it when you were upset with him. You hoped he would try harder to get to you and say you were right and that he needs to look at himself again.

When you turned around to hear his side he shut down. Instead of saying anything he just blankingly stared at you. You could see his poor attempt to gather the courage to talk, yet no words fell from his soft lips. For the first time in weeks you two looked at each other, really looked at each other. The friendship between you has always been strong but you've been feeling it deteriorate, eating away slowly and slowly. You were hoping to see the bit of your best friend in those eyes, yet all you saw was regret.

When you turned to your door you found yourself saying more. "I'm tired, Aegon. I'm tired of this." You put your hand on the doorknob. "I miss you." You entered your room and locked yourself in before he could say anything.

You crawled into your bed and curled up, hugging your knees. Once again your chest tightened and tears gathered in the corner of your eyes. Only this time, you let them fall.

It's been weeks since Aegon invited someone to spend the night and it kind of pissed you off. You lost your cool one night and suddenly he just stops. It felt as though he was babying you, which was the part that was pissing you off. The other part of you felt relieved, hoping everything could go back the way it was before. You wanted goofy, vulnerable Aegon, not the one who was around a few weeks ago.

However, it didn't last. Just when you thought it was over, you came home to find Aegon's face buried between some random girl's legs. She still had her clothes on, as though Aegon couldn't wait to taste her. It was only her blouse unbuttoned and skirt that was bunched up and her legs spread that immediately clued you in to what was happening. Her head was thrown back, eyes were shut, and a silent scream left her body as Aegon brought her to the edge.

Anger bubbled inside you, threatening to pour over. The girl turned her head and smirked at you as though she knew you were there the entire time. She took her time slipping off the counter, fixing her hair into something slightly more put together. Once she painstakingly straightened herself up she fully turned to you and flashed the biggest smile.

"Oh, hey, roomie." It was Sara. "I didn't think I'd see you again. Aegon hasn't hit me up in a month so I thought he was fucking you." She laughed. "Sorry, I'm a little tle out of breath. He really knows what to do, not that you'd know anything about that, right?" She gave you a teasing wink.

All you could do was stare at her.

"I'm just joking, roomie. I know he'd never fuck you. Anyway, I figured I'd pay him a visit just be sure. Glad to see I was wrong."

She finished buttoning her top and smoothed down her skirt as Aegon got up. Sara quickly turned and pulled him into a mockingly deep kiss. You rolled your eyes when you spotted Aegon flexing his hands trying not to touch her. You walked in on him eating her out. His attempt to not touch her in front of you was an insult. You looked back at his face and saw his eyes glued on you while Sara tried to stick her tongue in his mouth. You've never seen him so uncomfortable with someone else like this. He looked almost apologetic yet he did nothing to move away from her. Sara finally pulled away, but not before grabbing one of Aegon's hands to run over her chest.

Sara turned back to you. "Same time next week? Maybe we'll try it in your bed, roomie. Gotta keep it exciting."

She gave you a demeaning wink before bending down to pick up her purse, obviously giving you a view of her ass. You looked over at Aegon, fuming, but only saw him trying, and failing, not to gawk at her backside. As though he felt your stare, his eyes shot to you and immediately looked ashamed. Sara was taking her sweet time getting up and gathering her things, steadily coaxing your anger with little comments here and there about how much she looks forward to next time, what they should try out, and what she wanted to do again. But it was her last comment that made you explode.

"You should move in with me, Aeg. You'll get sick of her sooner or later. You know I'm better for you anyway. She's no one worth remembering and obviously does nothing for -"

"Get. The. Fuck. Out," you growled.

Sara slowly turned to you and pursed her lips in mock sympathy. "Aw, is the little roomie jealous? Don't worry, I'm sure you'll find someone desperate enough to fuck you."

Red flooded your vision as everything became blurry. You didn't have control over your actions anymore. You launched yourself at Sara with your hands curved into claws. She had no time to move before you tackled her down and dragged your nails across her face. As she screamed you pulled her hair to force her to look you in the eye.

There weren't any deep scratches on her but you drew blood. Sick pride washed over you when you looked at her. A mix of eyeliner, tears, and the slightest tint of blood splotted across her face.

"You can dismiss my existence and waltz around like you own the place but let me make something clear," you whispered. "You will never call me desperate, you will never call me being worthless, and you will never force me out of my home. This is my place, not yours. It never was and it never will be."

You took a deep breath before pulling her back up. Sara was standing with your hand still gripping her hair.

You made sure your next words burned.

"You will never have a place in Aegon's heart. I know you think I believed your smug confidence and the terribly misplaced belief that you were his but you were wrong. Not for one second have I ever believed that Aegon would actually love you. You want me to be nothing to him but that will never happen. You can't sleep your way to Aegon, you only think you can. The truth is that you know nothing about him. But I do. I'm the one who has Aegon's heart, not you."

Sara whimpered when you tugged on her hair.

"Now," you breathed, "you're gonna get the fuck out of here and never come back. Do you understand?"

Sara broke her terrified stare from you to a pleading one to Aegon. "Aegon, you know I'm better for you. She's nothing compared to me. You said it yourself, she's nothing."

Aegon didn't try to comfort her. He looked straight at her without any trace of emotion.

"I think it's time for you to leave, Sara."

"Seriously?!"

"You were a mistake. Every girl was."

You lips pressed into a tight smile as you dragged Sara, still by her hair, to the door. "If I see you here again," you growled, "I will do more than simply scratch your face." You threw her out with your final words and slammed the door shut.

Tension engulfed the room. It was as though The red in your eyes slowly faded away until your head cleared up. All you could do was stand there. You didn't realize how fast your heart has been beating, how hard you've been breathing, until you came back to reality. What you just did felt like a dream. There was no thinking involved, only instinct and anger.

Aegon coughed, breaking the silence. "Hey, so, um," he scratched the back of his neck. "I guess -"

"Don't." You turned to face him. "I'm going to take a shower, grab some whiskey, and crash in my bed. Maybe we'll talk later. Or maybe we can just forget this happened," you let out a mirthless laugh, "and you can go back to fucking someone new every week."

"Wait, hold up, we need to -"

You held a hand up. "Stop, Aegon, please. I said a lot of things in the heat of the moment. Don't worry about me."

It's been two weeks since you kicked Sara out, which meant that it's been two weeks since you blew up in front of him. Everything you said was true, whether or not Aegon wanted to believe it. If he was too much of a coward to admit anything then so be it. But since then he's been almost non-existent. He was never in the apartment when you were and if he was he kept his door closed. As much as you wanted to check in on him you also wanted to hold your ground. What he did was stupid and hurt like hell.

After working an exhausting ten hour shift, you dragged yourself into the apartment. The lights were off but you could see a figure sitting on the couch and hear a dull thump from something hitting the table. You creeped closer to get a close look at them.

It was Aegon.

He was wallowing in his own self pity, drinking as much as he could. There were two empty bottles of beer on the table. A third half-empty bottle was in his hand. Wearing worn out black sweatpants and a ratty hoodie, Aegon took a swig before muttering some curses to himself. As you got closer to him you could smell the alcohol.

"What a fucking idiot," he laughed. Aegon took another swig of whatever bottle he had in his hand and promptly slammed it down.

You wanted to keep your mouth shut. You knew it would be better to walk away but it's been so long since you've talked that your resolve broke.

"You better not be talking about me," you said when you slipped into a spot next to him.

"Fucking hell," he flinched, spilling the contents of his drink. "Great, now it's on the fucking floor. Thanks." He threw a pillow on top of the mess figuring it would be better than nothing.

The two of you sat there in taut silence. Aegon didn't even reach for another drink. You were simply sitting in the quiet darkness together. You were about to break it when he spoke up first.

"I fucked up."

You let out a cold laugh. "Yeah, you really did."

He turned to look at you. Even in the dark you could see his eyes were a bit bloodshot. "I'm fucking trying, okay?" He rubbed his face. "No, you know what, forget it." Forgetting the bottle was empty, he picked it up to drink. He muttered a curse before setting it back down.

He got up to leave but you grabbed his hand before he could go any further. It was as though time was frozen. The second you took it everything became still. Aegon's hand was limp but you gave it a small squeeze encouraging him to stay.

"We need to talk about this. I know I've been avoiding it but you've been avoiding it, too. Hell, you've been avoiding me, Aeg."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before sitting back down.

"What do you want to talk about? How you went fucking ballistic? How you basically confessed your love for me?"

"Yes. All of that."

He nodded his head, asking you to go on.

"You changed so much, Aeg, and I didn't know what to do. When we first moved in you were my goofy best friend. You know, the one I tell everything to. Then one day it's like back at university before we met. You starting bringing in girl after girl to fuck and it just drove me up a wall. What the fuck happened?"

"What happened was my dad dying." He picked up an unopened bottle of beer and took a swig.

Your eyes widened at the confession. "Your dad died so you thought fucking someone new would help?"

"No - I mean yes, but it was more than that."

"It was more than that? I know you didn't give a shit about any of them."

He yanked his hand away. "Maybe not, but they have a shit about me!" He exploded.

"Excuse me?" You dangerously whispered. That has got to be utter bullshit, you thought.

"Sure, it may have only been to fuck me but it was something!"

"Just because they fuck you doesn't mean they care!" You jumped up. "They didn't fucking care but I did!" You pressed a finger to his chest. "I always have and I always will. Don't you fucking get it? I've been here since the beginning and you try to blame me for your dumb ass actions?"

Aegon grabbed your hand and pulled you close. "If it wasn't for you I wouldn't have to distract myself."

"Distract yourself? Did the death of your dad really fuck you up that bad? I know he didn't give a shit and you didn't either. Don't pretend to be so beat up over it." You tried to pull away but he held you tight.

"It fucked me up because it made me realize that I can somehow be better than my dad by caring about people."

You laughed. "And you care about every single girl you've fucked. Absolutely believable, Aeg."

He let go of you, almost pushing you away.

He dropped his head before speaking. "You said you cared. If you cared you would've been able to see the change."

You were gentle with your next words, "I can't read your mind. Just because I know you so well doesn't mean I can figure out every emotion you have."

Silence.

"Aeg, just tell me what's going on, please."

Still refusing to look at you, he dropped back to the couch. "I fell in love with you, that's what happened. I don't know when but I did. For some godforsaken reason my dad dying set off everything. All I could do was ignore it and I did that by taking someone to bed almost every night." He brought the bottle up to his lips but didn't drink anything.

You sat down next to him.

You didn't want to believe him.

"I know you've been drinking all night. You're just saying things."

He scoffed and chugged the rest of the beer. "Just because I've been drinking all night doesn't mean I don't know what I'm saying."

"Okay, fine. Let's assume everything you've told me is true. You may love me but nothing more than a friend, right?"

"No, that's not true."

"You have a funny way of showing it."

He locked eyes with you. "I wanted to push you."

"Push me? What did you need to push me for?" You questioned. "Besides, I think you pushed me pretty good when I attacked Sara."

"I pushed you too hard, I know that now. I did it because I wanted to get you closer to me. I wanted you jealous."

"First off, that's a fucking stupid plan. Second, I'm already close to you. Or at least was," you murmured the last part.

Aegon rubbed his eyes in frustration. "You don't get it. You're so fucking smart but you don't get it!"

"What don't I get?" You challenged.

"You don't get that I wanted you to make the first move!" He settled down before continuing. "I see the way you look at me. I see your reactions. I know you want more. But for once I needed you to make the first move. If you wanted me it had to be on your terms." He took a deep breath. "And you're right. I didn't give a shit about the girls I fucked. The only one I give a shit about is you. But when you didn't do anything I did what I know best. I didn't want to distract myself from my dad's death. Again, something you were right about. I was distracting myself from you."

You searched his eyes for any trace of dishonesty but didn't find any. "If you had said something I would've said yes." You reached out for his hand. "What you did was stupid but…I get it. Kinda. You were scared."

"Yeah, I was scared."

You scooted close to him. "Then take the leap." You were gentle with your words.

Aegon pulled you in and lowered his head to yours. "I don't want to fuck it up." His lips brushed against yours.

"So don't." You pressed your forehead against his.

For a few moments that's how you stayed. It was just you and Aegon. When you separated you gave him a soft smile. His eyes darted to your lips and you took your chance. You softly brushed your lips against his before giving him a true kiss.

Your eyes fluttered close. His lips were soft and joined you in tandem. It wasn't rough. The kiss was pure love. Emotions poured into the kiss. He pulled you on top of his lap before deepening the kiss. You smiled against him as you moved your hands up his arms and to his hair.

More. You wanted more.

You nipped at his bottom lip and he gladly opened up. When you slid your tongue in he snaked one arm around you right while the other ran up your sides. His arousal was beginning to prod against you and it spurred you on even more. You slowly rocked your hips against him.

"Fuck," he pulled away and buried his face in your neck. He kissed his way up and nipped at your ear. "You are so much better than the others."

"Don't talk about them. Look at me," you commanded.

Aegon looked up at you with big eyes.

"Take me to your room and I'll show you exactly what you missed out on."

He pushed you off his lap only to grab your wrist and practically run to his room. But before he could open the door you pulled him back and trapped him with one arm against the wall. You gave him a mischievous smile before dragging your hand down his body and to his hard cock. He tried to suppress a groan when you began palming him over his pants.

"Let it out, babe. I want to hear every sound you make."

You took pity on him when you could feel his cock getting harder. When you pulled your hand away he couldn't help but groan at the loss of contact.

"This is what happens when you play with me," you smirked.

Releasing him from the wall you let him take you into his room. Immediately you grabbed him by his hoodie to pull him down to you to crash your lips against his. Gone were the soft kisses. Now it was pure passion and lust.

You moved one hand to grab his and the other to place on his chest. As soon as you pushed him to the edge of the bed you took a step back.

"Strip for me," you commanded.

Aegon was quick to rid himself of his hoodie and sweatpants. When he went to pull down his underwear you stopped him.

"Let me do this." You came up to him and lowered yourself to your knees as you slid his briefs down.

His cock was at full attention, red and angry. You licked your lips and cupped his balls, slowly massaging them. He threw his head back.

"No, no. Look at me. I want you to watch me take you in."

All he could do was bring his head back and nod.

You moved your hand from his balls to his cock and slowly worked him. Leaning in to the tip you gave him small kitten licks. Once you got him breathing heavier you took all of him in your mouth. Never did you look away from him. You slowly began bobbing your head back and forth, loving the feel of him in you. When you decided to push him a little more with a hum around the cock he twitched. You hummed once again and brought your hand to his balls.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck, I'm gonna cum," he breathed.

As soon as he said that you released him with an obscene pop. Aegon whined when he left your warm mouth.

"Don't worry, there's more. Now, lay back. No touching."

He nodded his head.

"I need to hear you say it."

He gulped. "I promise I won't touch myself."

"Good boy," you smiled.

You ran your hands over your tits before reaching down to brush yourself over your clothes. You brought your hands up to slowly take off your top. Once again you ran your hands over your tits, this time playing with your nipples through your bra.You looked over at Aegon to see him grasping the sheets and slowly rolling his hips into nothing.

"Are you so desperate that you have to hump the air? Aw, poor baby," you taunted. You reached down to the top of your pants and pulled it down. "This is a better view, isn't it?"

You walked to the bed and sat on your haunches between his legs.

"Be a dear and take off my bra for me."

Aegon sat up and ran his hands over your breasts and stopped to play with your hardened peaks before unclasping the bra and throwing it across the room.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," you chided. "That wasn't nice. I guess I have to punish you now. Lay flat on your back." You could feel yourself get wetter telling him what to do.

He did as he was told, shaking with anticipation.

You climbed up his body to his face and slowly lowered yourself down.

"I want you to make me cum. You deserve to have a mess on your face."

He didn't need to be told twice. He pushed your panties to the side and licked a strip up your folds. He moaned and grabbed your thighs to keep you steady. He left open kisses all over your pussy. A coil began to tighten in your stomach.

"Fuck, babe. You're so good at eating my pussy. Do I taste good?"

You heard a muffled yes and smiled to yourself.

He moved from your folds to your clit. You rolled your hips against his face as he sucked and licked your bud. Every swipe of his tongue had you throwing your head back in bliss. It was almost too much but he didn't stop. He was bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Aegon moved away from your clit only to replace it with his thumb. He rubbed lazy circles as he dipped his tongue into your dripping cunt. He sped up his fucking and pressed on your clit sending you over the edge. The coil in your stomach released as you made a mess on his face.

You moved off his face. "What a good boy," you praised. "I think it's time for a reward."

You lowered yourself down his body. Wrapping a hand around his cock you worked him up to full hardness again. You gave him a few licks before taking the head in you mouth and sucking just a tiny bit. It was enough to make him moan and buck his hips up ever so slightly.

Letting go of him you chuckled when you moved to straddle him and lined up his cock with your pussy.

"Are you ready for me to ride you?"

"Yes, yes please."

"Good."

You slipped off your panties and let the drop next to the bed before sinking down on his cock. The stretch had you moaning, feeling every inch of him inside you completely. The way he filled you couldn't be described coherently. You began to move your hips slowly, taunting him. Aegon whimpered as he fought the urge to grab your waist

You leaned down to whisper in his ear. "You can touch me," you tell him. "I want you to touch me."

That was all he needed to let go of the sheets and attack your body with his hands. He ran over every single curve trying to commit them to memory. You swore you saw his mouth water when he reached up to play with your tits. You leaned down to give him better access. Immediately he took a nipple in his mouth and swirled his tongue around it.

You could feel that coil tighten again. Your hips rocked against him when he brought one hand to your clit. You had no choice but to sit up again and bounce on his cock.

"Holy fuck yes! Please, please, please, Aegon! Gods, you're so good at fucking me!"

He let out a deep groan as he pushed his hips up even higher. "You're tightening around me - oh, gods - you're gonna make me cum inside you," he moaned. His hands moved to your hips helping you ride him but he was getting sloppy.

"Do it." You were clenching around him tighter than you ever thought was possible.

"Do it, Aegon. Cum for me."

The thrusts became desperate and wild. You and Aegon let out a scream as you came together. You felt him empty himself inside you. His cock twitched weakly as you tried to control your collapse on him. He wrapped his arms around you.

"Can we stay like this?" He asked, his cock still inside you.

"Yes, of course." You turned your head and kissed his cheek. "I want this. I want you, Aegon."

"I know."

A few minutes passed before you moved off of him. You felt empty without him inside you but you got up anyway and kneeled on the floor so you head was by his. You ran a hand through his hair and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"Let me clean you up, babe," you whispered.

"Okay." He reached over to cup your face and traced a small circle on your cheek.

You got up to go to the bathroom to clean yourself up then returned with a wet towel. Giving him a small smile, you ran the towel over his body. You were extra careful around his lower regions knowing he was still sensitive. When you finished cleaning him you slipped yourself into his arms.

"Look at me, Aegon." You said. "You're not gonna fuck this up."

"I don't want to hurt you." His eyes filled with worry.

"We are not going to fuck it up," you paused. "I love you, too. Always have and always will."

[lya-dustin]

Fic masterlist

Hotd

Someone will remember us (aemond targaryen x oc, aemma velaryon) completed ,rated: M

All is Bliss (in the Court of Aemma the Great) Aemond x Aemma, completed, rated M

Whatever souls are made of (aemond x aemma one shot series)

To the ends of the earth (aemond x aemma au)

Aemond x Reader inserts

Hotd big bang spring 2024

Cupid kills with arrows (arranged marriage/loosely based on queen charlotte au)

Shock and delight (bridgerton au)

Sun (one word prompt, shock and delight)

Castle (one word prompt, rhaenicent)

Hotd bigbang road 24 prompts

Sweet mother (table sex gate ft rhaenicent) rated: M

Desperate Measures (Gwayne Hightower x Jena Mertyns(oc))

The Last Kingdom

Osferth masterlist

Aethelred x reader

Magnificent Century

Au list

Dune

Queen of Light, King of Darkness (Feyd x OC)

The Last Wolf of Lankiveil (part 2 of Feyd x Nurbanu(oc))

Broken (feyd x nurbanu one shot)

Saltburn

A Comedy of Nonmathematical Errors (Michael Gavey is secretly Felix Catton's twin) hiatus

Rings of Power

I Sang of Leaves of Gold (gil galad x maia!oc, rings of power)

the moon lives in the lining of your skin(gil galad x erinti, silmarilion)

The Stone Table (gil galad x erinti smut)

The Scion of Kings and the Lady of Flowers(Gil-galad x reader)

Balcmeg (au where Gil-galad and Erinti adopt a baby orc)

[penny00dreadful]

So... some of you may have noticed my fics have come to a screeching halt the last couple of months which is not like me and I am here to explain myself.

Babygirl, I have been preparing.

The end of this month is my 1 year anniversary of posting in this fandom, of posting any of my work online after not doing it for like fifteen fucking years and it has brought me so much incandescent joy, I decided I had to do something for it.

(I've also hit like... several milestones which is fucking insane like you all know I'm just some cranky bog witch, right??)

I have been working on my WIPs for over the last two months. All... holy mother of god... like nine of them???

Some of these have been completed, some I am still writing and some are mostly done.

So starting from my anniversary date, 23rd October, every second or third day, I'll be posting a chapter of something.

I have so much material built up this shit could go on until 2024

@hbyrde36 called it my own personal Penny00Dreadful BigBang... and yeah kinda! 😅

I wanted to do this to show just how much I love this community. Your kind words, your support, your unhinged ramblings, your obsessive love, your talent (for free??) it's all amazing it's so amazing and I wanted to explode forth with my love for it so I figured why the fuck not do this stupid idea??😅

All of these will be posted both to tumblr and AO3 so subscribe over there to keep updated or follow me here!

OH! And let me know if you wanna be tagged! If you wanna be tagged for a specific fic or for everything I'll add you, whatever you want.

You've made me so happy and so warm for the last year. The way I know if I'm having a bad day I just need to hop onto this side of tumblr and everything will be peaches and gravy again.

I love you guys so much. 😘🖤

Updated Schedule - (18th Feb 2024)

Fic list with blurbs below the cut, this will (roughly) be the order they're posted in:

Return of The King - COMPLETE

Steddie Vampire AU with a twist! Vampire Steve comes back after falling to the bats. There is two more chapters left and those chapters have been completed.

Comeuppance - COMPLETE

Dustin just wants Steve to be happy. So he tries to parent trap him with Nancy. Clearly they should be together. But Steve's heart doesn't even seem to be in it at all! How is he so bad at this? And Eddie is being less than helpful

Rookie Mistake - COMPLETE

My Steddie Established Relationship Spies AU oneshot that will have a multi-chapter prequel fic coming very soon after!

Eddie is "retired" and Steve has been injured on the job, so he's supposed to be taking it easy. How hard could a walk to the gas station be?

Before He Cheats - COMPLETE

Songfic! Carrie Underwood - Before He Cheats

I literally have no excuse for this one. The rotted brainworms were behind the steering wheel with this one.

One evening, Eddie gets a call from some guy named Steve dropping the news on him that his boyfriend has been cheating on him. With this Steve person and Steve had no idea up until that day.

And Eddie rarely takes that shit lying down.

Steddievember Smut - COMPLETE

No Nut November is here! One can play however he wants. The other just has to wait for December to roll around. I have no other words to describe what this will be, it does what it says on the tin. I blame the STWG discord server. Currently we're looking at four little ficlets for this.

Cat and Mouse - COMPLETE

The Steddie Spies AU Prequel! How they got together and the extreme ups and downs their enemies/rivals to lovers journey goes through. I had so much fun with this one.

And They Were Roommates! - COMPLETE

omg they were roommates.

Steve and Eddie don't hate each other exactly. They just... tolerate each other. But one night Eddie doesn't come home for hours. Long after he's supposed to and it's not like Steve is worried or anything... he's just... concerned for a fellow human being... that's all.

Through The Valley - IN PROGRESS

Post-Apocalyptic AU. Eddie, Dustin and Nancy have a nice little community of survivors outside of Hawkins that they take care of, surviving day to day. Everyone's a little broken, missing the rest of their Party just hoping that one day they'll find each other again.

Devotion

Dungeons and Dragons AU. Steve is the golden boy of the small town of Hawkins. Harrington in name and now a Paladin with his very own oath to hunt down the Bard, the witch Eddie Munson and bring him back to justice under High Priest Henry Creel.

[asa-do-your-thing]

The Shadows of The Lost Court

Dark!Aemond x F!OC - 18+ MINORS DNI Word Count: 8.6k TW: dubcon, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Behavior, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Shameless Smut, Angst, Fellatio, Misogyny, Internalized Misogyny, Non-Consensual Drug use, Religious Imagery, Symbolism and guilt

Art made by the lovely @nyctophilic0vitnir - thank you so much sweetheart! <3 And thank you so so much @ewanmitchellcrumbs for organizing this @hotd-bigbang , you are amazing!

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Elisabeth shuddered and stopped, turning around, coughing to try and relieve her dry mouth. 

She knew. She knew… She knew something. Something was following her. 

Leaning against a grubby, crumbling wall, Elisabeth tried catching her breath. There was nothing there, neither on the left, nor on the right. Only cobwebs; cobwebs, moss and the smell of decay.

 ‘Is The Stranger a something or a someone?’

Tonight was different. The milk came sooner than usual.

Elisabeth struggled - where some people love the rush and the calmness afterward, she hated it. Hated the way it made her sick. Hated the way it lamed her tongue; hated the way it hid her. She knew better than anyone that her doses were calculated. Maester Rithyr must have gotten the order for her to be silenced, not addicted. That wouldn’t look good. 

Elisabeth peered out of a window, only to see thick tendrils of fog curling up from the ground like ghostly fingers. The dim light filtering through the mist gave everything a spectral, otherworldly hue. She took notice of how broken everything looked: shattered windows, splintered doors and debris scattered across the dusty floor. She sighed heavily as she rearranged her long, dark brown hair under its veil, trying to keep it in place amidst all the chaos. And then, she heard him again - his footsteps echoing through the ruins.

The sound made her feel uneasy; it was too quiet, too lonely. For a moment she wondered if she was in trouble or hurt. But then a chill ran down her spine and she realized that perhaps it wasn't just the desolate ruin around her making her feel so cold and scared.

“You swore to obey me. You swore before the gods, you brutish whore. After all I’ve done for you…”, the voice echoed around her.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

He was closing in on her. The staircase seemed to be miles away, yet still, she pushed herself away from the moss-covered stones and cautiously started walking. Elisabeth grunted, her legs burning. It was as if she was walking against a current of water, one that swept her slowly closer to him. She stepped over a rotting tapestry and tightly clung onto the handrail of the staircase. 

‘Why would The Stranger think of me like that? Is it time for me to… die?’

Carefully descending down, she peered up the stairs. The window let in cold, humid gusts of air and Elisabeth was sure that she could see his dark robe in the shadow. Knowing that the Queen’s Ballroom had no other exit, she trudged past it, stopping to catch her breath along the way.

Out. Out of Maegor’s Holdfast, her mind urged her. But where would she go? As soon as the Kingsguardmen saw her, they would gently escort her back into her chamber. That’s the way it has been for a long time. Biting her lamed tongue, she quietly walked down to the entrance and glanced out. No one was there. No one, except for the occasional rat that scurried through the lower bailey. 

“I saw the way that the Strong bastard looked at you. You were with him, weren’t you? Was it not enough to tell him about our political strategies, but to also give him your useless cunny? Do you even know the shame you bring onto this realm?”

Her breath hitched as she saw him closing in on her, his dark cape billowing in the light wind. Glancing up at the serpentine steps, she felt a thick raindrop splashing down onto her. That was just what she needed - collapsing on the slick stairs, The Stranger close behind her. No, risking embarrassment by climbing over the ledge into the Godswood was far more appealing to her. 

“Leave me be! I beg of you!”, she whined, her lungs on fire.

'I cannot do this anymore, not long, anyhow, my feet... my lungs... The Stranger... Death...', she thought, unable to focus on anything else than him.

The Godswood was an ancient and sinister place, a twisted forest lurking within the heart of Maegor's Holdfast. Towering weirwood trees with their deathly white trunks and faint streaks of crimson formed a menacing roof above, and the loamy earth seemed to swallow her every step. Elisabeth took a raspy breath, feeling the icy, dank air fill her lungs. The stench of decay surrounded her, the smell of putrefaction and rot. Rain drops pelted down onto her skin, the soil beneath her feet sodden.

Elisabeth moved with a sense of urgency, her feet burning as she weaved through the dense trees. The pattering of rain on the leaves above offered her some concealment as she made her way between the shelter of one tree to another, hoping to avoid detection by her pursuer. Suddenly, a twig snapped behind her and she whirled around, only to hear the sound of footsteps growing louder and louder.

Her heart in her throat, she ducked behind a gnarled oak tree, taking cover from the ominous presence that was closing in on her. She could feel every drop of cold rain as it streamed down her face and hair, running down her back and soaking through to her skin. Each breath was ragged and tumultuous as beads of perspiration bubbled up on her forehead. Elisabeth shuddered uncontrollably in the frigid air before finally forcing herself to keep moving forward through the relentless downpour.

Elisabeth could hear the sound of her own heart pounding in her chest as she tried to make her way through the Godswood. She was shaking with fear, her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. She knew that The Stranger was close behind her; she could feel his presence like a dark cloud looming over her.

She stumbled over a tree root, nearly falling to the ground, before weakly righting herself and continuing on. Her hair was plastered to her face and neck,  her clothes were soaked through. However, insignificant concerns like the dampness penetrating her to the core were overshadowed by her urgent need to elude her relentless pursuer.

Abruptly, a chilling sound pierced the silence, causing her blood to freeze in her veins. It was the eerie scrape of something sharp grating against the gnarled bark of a tree, almost like the sound of a blade being sharpened before an execution. Her heart raced as she whirled around, and there, amidst the gusty winds, stood The Stranger, his ominous dark robe unfurling like a spectre from the shadows.

"You can't escape me."

Elisabeth recoiled in terror, her wide-eyed gaze darting around frantically, searching for a possible escape route. However, the Godswood resembled an inescapable labyrinth of winding trees and dense underbrush, leaving her utterly trapped.

The Stranger took a step forward, his eyes fixed on her. Elisabeth saw the hunger in his gaze, the hunger for her soul. She knew that she was doomed. With a cry of despair, she turned and ran, darting between the trees as fast as she could. The Stranger was right behind her, his footsteps pounding on the wet ground.

She could feel his breath on the back of her neck, cold and ...familiar? Shaking her head quickly and looking up into the sky, she saw the towers again. She probably ran around in circles, her dazed mind tricking her into thinking she had been trapped in a forest.

Frantically sprinting out of the oppressive Godswood, she sucked in a deep breath of fresh air as her gaze fell upon the dilapidated Outer Bailey. The once-glorious stone walls loomed ominously over her, crumbling inward from age and neglect. Threadbare tapestries hung limply in the breeze, swaying like ghosts in an abandoned graveyard. Gaping holes in the walls revealed chipped statues that had been carved centuries ago, still standing guard despite their years of neglect. In the far distance, the towers soared into the sky, dark voids against a backdrop of gray clouds.

Elisabeth inhaled deeply as a thick, unsettling aroma engulfed her. The scent of lavender and jasmine combined with the decaying smell of rotting fruit and mildew. In the distance, Elisabeth could hear the faint sound of buzzing from unseen insects lurking beyond the shadows. She stumbled forward, mesmerized by the air that was heavy with an ominous foreboding.

At last she reached the entrance to The Sept - an imposing structure made entirely out of pale stone blocks that glowed in the fading light. Stone steps rose up to meet two large wooden doors while several small windows peeked out like watchful eyes looking down on her every move.

Elisabeth, feeling the stinging of her lungs, ran into the Sept and fell down on her knees. She laid atop the golden seven-pointed star on the floor and looked up at the statue of the Mother, trying her hardest not to look at the Stranger. To calm her head, she closed her eyes and took deep breaths, running her dry, cracked hands over her burning calves. The tears continued flowing over her pallid face, running down into her dirty gown. 

‘What is happening to me? Why on earth would the Seven punish me so?’

She remembered her wedding. It was magnificent, aye. But then again, it had to be. After Joffrey’s death at Princess Rhaenyra’s wedding tourney, she was quietly whisked away from the Stormlands and settled into the Red Keep as a way of keeping the Lonmouth’s - and to a greater extent the Baratheon’s - good graces, so as not to let them favour Princess Rhaenyra’s claim in the case of King Viserys’ death.

The time until the courtship was quiet, that much Elisabeth still remembered. She grew up alongside Princess Helaena - Helaena being three years older than her. Endless hours of handiwork, study and prayer had shrouded her in relative solitude, so when she turned four and ten, she was shocked to be invited to the Royal Table more often and to be invited for strolls with Prince Aemond. Back then she had still been Lady Elisabeth, not 'Princess Bess'.

Later she understood why the engagement happened. Prince Aemond had to marry to secure the crown’s security and to show the green faction that they had gotten the Stormlands support.

She often asked herself why they had chosen her over the Baratheon girls. They were more comely - Elisabeth's stature was short and plump, giving her the appearance of a child much younger than her age. Her brow was rounded, her cheeks plump and her eyes large with dark, scared pupils. Her Monmouth blood - the one that made her relation Joffrey so beautiful - must have passed her by. Her long, dark hair was thick but formless, hanging in her face without curls or ringlets. It was clear to her that Aemond was not interested in her, not in the romantic sense at least. 

As days turned into weeks, Elisabeth discovered that Prince Aemond was the first man with whom she could engage in conversations almost as equals. His cold, yet encouraging words had ignited a spark within her, urging her to delve deeper into her thoughts and ideas. Over time, an unexpected fondness began to blossom in Elisabeth's heart for him. In his unique manner, he exuded a charming gloomy aura that drew her in. Many hours passed in their quiet companionship, their noses buried in books, immersed in shared moments of silent contemplation. Their intellectual pursuits were often overseen by the watchful presence of Princess Helaena, serving as a discreet but ever-vigilant chaperone.

But now, as she lay on the floor of the Sept, she wondered if she had made a grave mistake somewhere along the line in her life. Should she have taken her vows? Life as a septa would’ve suited her far more than whatever tragedy her current situation had turned into.

Aemond had changed since they were wed. Princess Helaena said that that was the case for most men, yet somehow, a small glimmer of hope still arose that it might have been different. He had become more... mean. It was as though he was a different person entirely.

Although... he had always been the quiet sort. The kind of man that you could hear exhaling slowly whenever he heard a foolish remark, the kind of man that judged everyone for everything, the kind of man that doesn't even think himself superior - he believes it.

Elisabeth couldn't help but think of the Stranger. It was a foolish thought, she knew. But in some ways, Aemond reminded her of the mysterious figure. Both were dark, brooding, and unpredictable. 

Elisabeth had always been on edge when Queen Alicent was around; her hawk-like gaze followed her every move and her scornful words cut deeper than any blade. Every time Elisabeth tried to be independent or think for herself, the Queen would chastise her that those were qualities meant just for Husbands.

After months of having to constantly please the Queen and ignore her own wants and needs, Elisabeth felt like a teetering ball ready to burst with the slightest push. She was too afraid to say anything, though, in fear of making things worse.

Then arrived the fateful day of her wedding, a lavish spectacle replete with tournaments, sumptuous feasts, and exhilarating hunts—a grand display of House Targaryen's power and influence. The exuberance of the festivities infected all who attended, making it effortless for others to revel in the celebrations.

However, beneath the surface of the revelry, Elisabeth harboured a mixture of anxiety and excitement, uncertain of what her future held in store. In the midst of it all, Prince Aemond had become a steadfast presence in her life, forging a deep connection with her. He seemed to grasp the essence of her being, affording her the precious gift of solitude for introspection, or so she believed. He made sure to squash her hopes.

For most, that had been a grande and joyous event. For Elisabeth, it was the start of her misery, though she did not yet know the full extent. As the Queen had instructed her, she treated everyone courteously, demurely.

That she did, or at least she thought that she did. Her husband disagreed, though. As soon as they were escorted into his chamber (he had wished for the doors to be closed), he spun around and pushed her against a wall. Aemond asked with a steely voice, towering over her, if she had been cavorting with the Velaryons, the way she had smiled at them, the way Jacaerys’ lips lingered on her hand as he greeted her.

Aemond questioned if she thought him to be blind. Elisabeth whimpered and gulped, trying her hardest not to hold Aemond's hard gaze, when she explained that she was told to be courteous to everyone, only to be cut off, when Aemond had pushed her even harder, making her yelp in pain, her shoulders burning from his strong grip. He ordered her to hush and questioned her why she would associate herself with usurpers, bastards and sodomites. 

What followed was of no particular interest to her, not anymore, anyways. Someone outside of the chamber, presumably Maester Myntheon, cleared their throat and told them to settle any disputes after the ceremony. Aemond had quickly slipped off his breeches - the fact that he didn’t even care enough to fully undress stung her after it had happened - and made sure to get her naked as soon as possible. 

She laid there, freezing, looking up at the tapestries next to their bed as he quickly stroked himself. ‘Do not do anything, lest he should think you a whore’ ran through her mind so often, that she almost thought that a small version of Alicent sat in her brain, spewing her nonsensical rules over and over so she could drive herself insane. 

“Open up.”

When Aemond saw her puzzled expression, he sighed, shook his head and gently pried her legs open, pulling her down the bed so that she was close to the ledge, closer to him and his half-hard member.

“I need to get to your cunt. Don’t make this more difficult for us than it has to be.”

Elisabeth felt her face heat up, and even though the room was dark, she could feel a heavy blush take over her neck and cheeks. She opened her legs wider and tried to steel herself for what was to come, but all too soon Aemond was pushing himself inside of her. She gasped as he entered her roughly, not giving her time to adjust. He kept thrusting into her with more force than necessary, making it hurt even more than it should have. Did he know it hurt? Did it hurt him?

She tried to cry out but he put a hand on her mouth and told her he was almost done. Tears started streaming down Elisabeth's face as Aemond kept going for what seemed like an eternity until finally his body went limp on top of hers. He rolled off of the bed without saying a word and left the room without so much as glancing at Elisabeth again.

Elisabeth lay there in shock, touching herself gingerly where Aemond had just been. For the first time ever she felt ashamed of herself; despite all that had just happened she still felt pleasure deep within herself that made her feel worse than before - something no one had prepared her for or warned about prior to this momentous night.

Was she a wanton whore? Was.. was Alicent right?

That was that. After that, he visited her fortnightly, stated his needs and left again. Although, Elisabeth noted quickly to herself, he had gotten gentler after seeing her bruised cunny. Proving she was a virgin had been no great feat. Her fear had made her so stiff and dry that there were multiple splotches of blood on the bed sheet, so many that even Alicent deemed to congratulate her. That was also the time where Alicent had started giving her milk of the poppy and after that, Elisabeth could not remember anything reliably. 

Even if she could, she noticed it was not the time to reminisce anymore. His eyes were dark and bright at the same time, void of feeling even while raging with anger. The candles flickered nervously on the altars as he stalked into the room and slammed the door shut behind him. Slowly turning around, she tried looking up at him despite her shaky vision. He was tall, wearing a cape with a large hood that covered his face.

If he wouldn’t … glide and give off a sense of dread, one could almost think it was Aemond himself. Yet, the way she knew him, he would not have spent such a long time chasing her and taunting her. He made it clear enough to her, she didn’t matter. 

“Have you come to confess? To repent?”

The Stranger offered her a hand, which she eyed cautiously. 

“Have you come to take me? Or are.. You taunting me?”

He laughed ominously. “You know me, I could never taunt you in a sept. But… taking you? That is a very bold request, Lady Wife.” 

Lady Wife? Elisabeth shivered and groaned, taking his cold hand. She was not instantly taken away to the realm of the dead, which made her glad and worried at the same time. 

“Wh… why..? And… why Lady Wife? I’m Elisabeth, don’t you know?” 

The Stranger helped her up and held her for a while until she gained complete function over her legs again. Letting her go, he stepped away again and looked around the Sept. 

“You're quite perplexing. You've yet to respond to my allegations, and instead, you've led me on a convoluted journey through the Red Keep, Bess.”

Calmly folding his arms behind his back, he strolled through the small hall, making sure his eyes were firmly on her shaking form.

“You even took me here, just to ask me to be with you, despite your previous reluctance. Has something changed, perhaps due to a newfound perspective from The Maiden?”

Elisabeth cocked her head to the side, trying her hardest to identify the figure in front of her. Why would… why would The Stranger care for her relations with Princess Rhaenyra and her sons? 

Why would… why would he want to engage in an amorous congress with her? Was that a cruel way the gods were testing her? 

“Well… You chased me… I thought you meant harm to me…” 

The figure hummed and it almost looked like his face turned into a doleful expression. 

“I could mean you harm depending on the answers you shall give me. We are in a sept - if you lie, you are damned. Do you know that?”

Elisabeth took a few steps back and lowered her eyes again. So it was the Stranger. He was asking about her sins so that she might repent before he took her away. That realisation hit her gut like a punch. Tears started welling up in her eyes. 

“I… yes, I do, but believe me, I-”

“I shall decide for myself if you are innocent, Lady Wife. Spare me your tales of woe.”

Closing the distance to her again, the figure gently took her chin into his hand and forced her to look up into his eyes. He quickly smoothed her hair and wiped the tears from her face.

“Before I ask you though, I need to take you. I need to take what is mine; you have ignored me long enough and now that you’ve asked me, I would be a fool not to take you up on your offer.” 

Elisabeth whimpered and stood rooted on the spot. If it weren’t for the weird pull in her stomach, she would have pleaded, would have fled. But something… Something about the way the figure touched her so gently, so caringly, made her heart leap in ways that have seldom happened. Nothing made sense anymore. 

On one hand, she wondered why on earth the Stranger wanted to take her, yet on the other, she knew that what the Gods willed was destined to happen. And if that wasn’t the Stranger? Well, but who would it be? A dream figure? But why would she dream of such things? Was she so depraved and craven? Maybe she was. In that moment, delirious and flush with adrenaline, she threw all concern out of the tiny window of propriety that she still had in her foggy mind. 

Placing a trembling hand around the Stranger’s waist, Elisabeth nodded lightly. 

“Take me then, if you must,” she whispered. The Stranger smiled in response and embraced her tightly, pulling her close to his chest as he kissed the top of her head.

They stayed like that for what felt like eternity and Elisabeth swam in a sea of emotions like never before. She could feel his heart beating against her own, slowly but surely drawing them closer together. 

He smelled familiar. Something in her mind told her she knew him; the smell of leather, dragons and sweat. Could it be...?

At long last, the figure pressed his cold lips onto hers, almost possessively. Even though it had been one of her first kisses, he guided her strongly, making sure that she couldn’t doubt him or his intentions.

Bess tried her hardest to banish the thought of Aemond in her head. No, it couldn’t be - Aemond never kissed her. It had to be the Stranger. Was that the metaphorical kiss of death? 

Answering her doubts, the Stranger slowly started to undress her, as if he was uncovering a precious gem. His hands moved with a slow and patient rhythm, almost like a ritual or dance as they explored every inch of her body. He caressed her curves and memorised every quirk on her figure until Bess had no more will left in her to resist.

For a moment it felt like time had stopped. As if the entire world was focused on them and their lovemaking; their own little bubble of pleasure and passion that nothing could penetrate. Aemond let out a low moan of pleasure as he drew his lips down Bess’s neck, relishing in the taste of her skin against his tongue. She shuddered beneath him as his fingers slowly moved ever lower, exploring each inch of her body without an ounce of inhibition or shame. She gasped when she felt his tongue swirl around one sensitive spot near the base of her spine before finally coming to rest between her legs, ready for exploration…

Elisabeth found herself melting beneath Aemond’s touch as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her body in response to his ministrations. His fingers seemed to know exactly where to go and what buttons to press – it was almost like he was born again.

It was almost like Elisabeth had been born again. The grogginess in her mind had subsided almost as soon as she had felt the pleasure; so had the illusion of the Stranger. But then again, her Aemond had never been kind, gently, loving in bed. He had always been rough with her, pulling her hair if he got too excited. And this man…Her Aemond had never touched her the way he did right now. Was she still dreaming?

Aemond stepped back, the space between them electric with passion and anticipation. His smouldering gaze locked with hers, and she felt a rush of heat that paralyzed her body and mind. Even though he had desired her since the day they were married, he thought she despised him, yet now in a sept the intensity of his longing was palpable. The air around them was thick with desire.

"I need you to taste me. I need to see you naked, on your knees, here, in front of the gods. Elisabeth, I finally want to claim you as my own, as my wife, and not as a piece of meat I spill my seed into every fortnight."

Despite all of her hesitance and apprehension, Elisabeth obeyed without any objection; he was still her lord husband and adhering to her spouse was the utmost important action she could take as a dutiful wife.

With trembling, cold hands she took his long, hard member and guided it towards her mouth. Was that her punishment? But for what? She had done nothing to warrant this perverse humiliation, but as he placed a hot, determined hand on the back of her head, she knew that she hadn't had much of a choice.

Gently, Elisabeth opened her mouth and engulfed Aemond’s cock. She could feel him shudder at her touch, and the heat that emanated from his body caused her pulse to race. His breathing was ragged as he gasped her name again and again, urging her on.

With a gentle hand, she guided Aemond’s hips closer to hers before taking him deeper into her mouth. The sensation of his velvety smooth skin against hers was electrifying. Her tongue gently danced around him, exploring every inch of his manhood until he could no longer hold back the intensity of his pleasure.

Elisabeth felt embarrassed and exposed; this seemed like something she should never be allowed to do in front of the gods. But the sheer pleasure that it evoked in both herself and Aemond kept her going. Gods, it felt so wrong yet so right at the same time.

"Fuck. Yes, Bess... You belong to me... Not to The Strong bastards, not to Aegon, not to anyone else... You're... fuck... mine..."

Aemond's hands tightened around her head, making sure she was as deep as her mouth allowed her to be as he released a long moan before spilling himself inside her mouth. It was hot, salty and Elisabeth tried her hardest swallowing it without looking up at him.

With a throbbing head, she released him and covered her face in shame. She knew the milk was dangerous - yet making her dream of death and running through the Red Keep? Taking Aemond's cock like a... a dirty Harlot?

That was more than she could take. Now he knew that she was a weak person, that there was only a weak will buzzing around inside her. The last thing she needed now was the usual gloating expression on his face - his unbearable questioning. 

“I’ve done all you wanted. Ask me your questions, so that you might finally understand that none of this was ever my will,” she said as she wiped her mouth, her voice brittle.

Aemond gave her a cold look of confusion and cocked his head to the side, closing his breeches and slipping his doublet on again, after he had caught his breath. 

“What wasn’t your will? Giving yourself to me here?” 

Elisabeth sighed. "You're my husband. Your wish is my command."

Aemond, in his usual fashion, looked away from her in shame, flaring his nostrils.

"Alright then. If it is your wish again to make me feel like the worst human being in the world, then I shall do so too. I thought I could take you to your chambers again, get you a hot bath... Alas, my Lady Wife, you asked for the interrogation yourself."

He walked over to the Statue of the Mother and gave her a cold look, his tousled white hair gently floating down his back. His eyepatch made him look even scarier than it usually did.

"I've heard rumours that you've taken moon tea. Do you want to avoid giving me an heir? Swear on the Mother."

Elisabeth shivered and slowly dressed herself again, making sure not to break eye contact with Aemond. The milk made it's presence - or rather, abscence known again - it made her desperately queasy. The aftertaste of Aemond's spunk in her mouth certainly did not help.

"I swear on the Mother I haven't been taking Moon... Tea."

Aemond raised his eyebrow in a quizzical manner.

"Then what is that concoction that Maester Rithyr brings you? I can't imagine it being a skin cream."

If looks could kill, Aemond would've joined the Stranger's embrace right then and there.

"Do not mock me, Lord Husband. You and your filthy snake of a mother know exactly what it is he brings me," she seethed, her voice thick with venom. "It is exactly the thing that made me think you were the Stranger chasing me through..."

Anger was not the only thing that bubbled up inside her. Retching, she emptied her stomach onto the marble floor, the large marble hall making the splattering sound of her vomit uncomfortably loud.

Aemond's eyes blazed with fury, one hand pulled back in a fist ready to strike. But before he had the chance, Aemond's gaze fell on her frail, sweaty body next to a pool of her own bloody vomit and his arm fell limp. He was held in place by the sight, unable to move or even blink as his anger turned into fear.

"Bess, gods, tell me what it is he gives you! Come clean to me, you foolish girl!"

Elisabeth flinched and wiped her lips, groaning weakly. Aemond had not seemed like someone who would lead her into danger or punish her for being honest - if he wanted to be so cruel, he could've hit her when she cursed his mother. She took in a deep breath and tried to rid herself of the sour taste in her mouth, then nervously patted her clammy palms on the stained fabric of her dress. Leaning against the statue of the Father, she felt a little bit safer.

"From the moment we were wed, your mother has given me milk of the poppy. Told me you'd stop trying to give me an heir if I continued to act the way I did."

Coughing, she shook her head and gave Aemond a cold look. His face was unreadable - no reaction was a reaction, Elisabeth noted and took a deep breath before continuing.

"The people in front of our door at our bedding ceremony told her of your indignant attitude to me and my inability to give you an heir after that. She... She thought I was denying you and that you were too courteous to take what was yours."

Elisabeth heaved once more, so Aemond propped her up and held her hair back. As she vomited, a worrying amount of blood appeared - it was nearly just that. Frowning, Aemond used a piece of fabric from her dress to clean up her lips afterwards.

"Please continue," he whispered into her ear, his breath hot on her skin. She felt a tear roll down her cheek and wished she were in bed with a warm blanket instead of being forced to confess. But the more she said, the better chance she had of avoiding drinking that awful milk again.

"She was always displeased with me and she did not hesitate to tell me so. She told me the Daeron's future wife - a certain Clara Lannister," she gave him a sharp look putting a finger to her lips, signaling to him that it was a secret and that he didn't hear it from her, "would have made a much better wife to you than I have. She's even more pious, meeker, prettier..."

Aemond huffed. "Clara's a feeble twelve year old hussy and she has wrapped the court around her pretty little fingers. I still cannot quite comprehend why my mother would try... try to drug and shut you up."

Elisabeth raised her eyebrow and gave her husband a sorrowful look. “You remember why, don’t you my Lord Husband? You were displeased that I was fraternizing with the Strong bastards. You said to her that I wasn't serious about state affairs. You told her you couldn't go through with our marriage vows and that I was too...” A tear slid down her cheek as she shook her head. She wanted to avoid any more tears rolling down, so she looked up in an effort to stop them. "You called me Bess just as the others did to show how much of a simpleton I was and you continue doing so! You would've beat me senseless if I'd have called you Monny!"

Aemond let out an exasperated sigh before taking a seat next to Elisabeth on the cold marble floor, gently wrapping an arm around her shoulders in comfort and pulling out a handkerchief from underneath his cloak which he tenderly offered for for her to clean herself off with.

“It’s fine,” he said gruffly. “We all make mistakes.” He put a finger under her chin and lifted it towards him so she had to look him in the eye. “I thought you hated me after our marriage ceremony, and I foolishly told my mother about it in a fit of anger.” Despite his words, there was something uncomfortable in the way his gaze held hers.

Elisabeth erupted into desperate sobs, pounding her fists against his chest with each cry. The dried blood that stained her hands flaked off like dust as she grabbed him in despair. "How could you do this to me? We should have talked it through, together! Instead of understanding why I had changed after our marriage, all you ever did was lash out at me and let your mother drive me to the brink of madness - treating me like a stranger and I can barely recognise myself anymore! If I didn't love you so much, I would hate you right now. But even then, my heart still aches for you... Oh gods, Aemond..."

The strain of her confession was too much for her. Elisabeth tipped forward, still gripping onto Aemond’s tunic with her bloody hands, as she lost consciousness in his arms.

Aemond caught her, gently placing her down onto the floor, then stood up and looked around the sept. He felt torn; part of him wanted to believe what his mother said but the other part of him knew it couldn’t be true. He had made a horrible mistake by allowing his pride and anger to drive him to such lengths, and he now he had to face the consequences alone. With a heavy heart, he summoned some guards who helped move Elisabeth’s lifeless body to his chambers where she could rest peacefully and recover from her ordeal.

Aemond was left with an overwhelming feeling that something fundamental in his life had shifted during that conversation in the Sept — not just between himself and Elisabeth but also between himself and his mother — an unspoken understanding that things would never be the same between them ever again. As he walked off in a daze towards his chamber, thoughts of revenge raced through his mind as he planned how best to confront her about it all — but for now, all he could do was hope that Elisabeth would recover quickly enough so they could make sense of everything together.

He was determined to take care of Elisabeth and as he watched her sleeping in his chambers, the rage that had been building up inside him slowly melted away. He brushed a strand of hair off her forehead and sighed resignedly — he had no control over what happened next, all he could do now was to care for her. As best as he could, Aemond pulled the blankets over her body to keep her warm and placed a pillow underneath her head for extra comfort. He sat by her side all night, silently willing for herto open her eyes so they could talk this out together, but it seemed like she wouldn’t wake up anytime soon.

The hours dragged on and his frustration only heightened with every minute that passed until finally Aemond couldn’t take it anymore. He ordered one of the guards to stay with Elisabeth before storming off in an attempt to clear his head. As he walked through the corridors of the castle, images of their conversation in the Sept replayed in his mind but try as he might, Aemond still couldn’t make sense of it all – what did this all mean? Could they ever go back to the way things were before?

Aemond was prepared to take matters into his own hands, he always was. He thought that this evening would end in him seeking a divorce or a mistress at court, arguing with his senseless simpleton of a wife, yet nothing could have prepared him for the confrontation he would have with her. 

Storming up the steps up to her apartments, he quickly shooed away Ser Criston Cole and opened the doors. He followed the light through the Entrance Hall up to her solar, where Alicent sat quietly on a settee, getting her feet rubbed by a lady in waiting. She raised a questioning eyebrow. 

"Whatever's the matter, Aemond? Is Helaena all right? Did Aegon do something?" 

Aemond's nostrils flared with fury as he fought himself to remain silent. How dare no one tell him - Elisabeth's husband - that his own wife had become a shadow of her former self, her mind so clouded with drugs she was practically a ghost? He could feel the rage building in his chest, threatening to escape and take over.

"Milk of the Poppy. Have you lost your damned senses?"

Alicent flinched a bit at his dangerously low, cool tone and sent her lady out. He could not make out her facial expression - it could have been anything from boredom to indifference - which angered him even more. Trying not to act too rashly, he tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. 

"Say something! And don't you dare deny it, I know it was you! Maester Rithyr told me everything", he lied effortlessly. He knew he had to - everything else would put Elisabeth in great danger.

Alicent lowered her eyebrow again, donned her slippers and stood up. Her face changed into a caring and hurt one, leaving Aemond a bitter taste in his mouth. 

"Wasn't it you who told me she was cavorting with Jacaerys? Didn't you complain of her disobedience, my dear?"

'So it is my fault now', he thought and took a deep breath, stepping closer to her and grabbing her tightly by the shoulders.

"What I wanted was for you to give her spiritual guidance and help in transitioning into her role as a princess. Why-"

"You cannot turn Mice into dragons, Son. Everyone knows that Bess doesn't fulfil your needs and our doubt will only be confirmed if she continues to be barren."

Alicent interrupted him icily and tore herself from his grip, sitting back down. 

"I have received a raven from Boros Baratheon, he said his daughters had only just flowered. What do you think? Or would you rather prefer Clara Lannister? I could..."

Aemond was taken aback, this conversation had gone way beyond his expectations. How could his own mother suggest such a thing? He knew he had to put an end to it before it was too late.

"Stop right there, Mother", he said sharply interrupting her mid-sentence. "Contrary to popular belief I like Elisabeth a lot and do not wish to take another wife."

He glanced coolly around the chamber and smiled unsettlingly.

"You must forget yourself, dear Mother. Helaena is Queen Consort now so it should be in her responsibility to judge on these issues and you know how much she likes Elisabeth. And besides, if the court would know of your... hysterics, who would continue to take you seriously? You know how your dear father, the Hand, dislikes your moody tendencies."

His words must have struck a chord - Alicent paled significantly and shrunk in her seat, clasping her hands on her lap.

Aemond continued with a calm, yet terrifying tone:"I don't wish for you to continue giving her the drug. I think the milk of poppy may be causing her infertility and I won't let that happen. You barred me from having heirs - who knows what you did with Helaena or you will do with that Lannister girl? It's almost treasonous, you know."

Alicent was desperate and scared, she picked at the skin around her nails to distract herself from what she knew would be a losing battle.

"My son-", her voice was small and trembling. She wanted to argue with him but his implacable gaze made it difficult for her to even look him in the eye. He had always been so strong willed, just like her own father. She had never been able to get through his hard shell of pride and arrogance, no matter how hard she tried.

"I only wish the best for you and our kingdom," she said softly trying to reason with him but he merely scoffed in response.

"Then how can you suggest me taking another wife? It would do more damage than good." His words were cold and final - this conversation was over before it began. Aemond stepped away from her and towards the door, pausing momentarily as he grabbed the handle."Remember our discussion mother", he said sternly before leaving the room without another word.

Aemond stepped out of the chamber, feeling a mix of anger and disappointment. He had hoped that his mother would be able to understand his point of view, but it seemed she was too entrenched in her own ideas about Elisabeth's faults to do so.

He walked down the corridor that led to the castle courtyard, trying to clear his mind of all thoughts. But as he walked, he couldn't help but think about how much he had changed since he had been married with Elisabeth. He had never imagined himself being such a cold and vengeful man, no.

The thought brought a sharp pang of guilt - what if word got out that the heir presumptive to the Iron Throne was considering taking another wife? It could cause widespread scandal and potentially put him at odds with some powerful houses. He shook his head in dismay, knowing that this wasn't an option for him - not now, not ever.

Aemond made his way to the training yard to clear his mind. He picked up a sword and began to practice with it, swinging it in powerful arcs and thrusts as if he were fighting some invisible enemy. His body moved in sync with the blade, becoming increasingly faster until sweat was dripping down his face from the exertion. The familiar movements soothed him - they allowed him to forget about the pressures of court life for a time, giving him respite from all of its trifling problems.

Once he felt sufficiently calm, Aemond returned back to his chambers and changed into some clothes more suited for the upcoming feast. As he finished dressing, he noticed something odd - there was a faint light coming from his bedroom. He rushed over to see what she was doing, hoping that she had woken up again, which she had, indeed.

Elisabeth looked up at Aemond with an anxious expression on her face before hastily turning away from him. "I don't wish to cause trouble," she muttered quietly before standing up and making her way toward the door without another word. "I shall just... retire to my chambers, Lord Husband."

Aemond watched as she stood up, feeling confused and slightly hurt by her actions - why was she so distant? What had happened happened to her?

"Elisabeth?"

He said her name softly, stepping closer to her and taking a gentler tone. He had meant to apologize for his earlier words, but something else came out instead.

"I wanted to thank you, for telling me the truth yesterday. I know it must have been difficult for you. I spoke with my mother and she will never give you milk of the poppy again if she values her life and social standing."

Elisabeth's dark eyes widened as she stared at him in shock. She had completely forgotten the events of the previous day and that Aemond had cared for her after her hallucination - another one of the side effects of the milk. His kind words made the feelings of guilt and confusion wash over her anew, and it was hard not to be taken aback by his unexpected familiarity with her. If she wouldn't have felt that painful yearning in her soul for more of the drug, she would've believed that she was still dreaming.

"L-lord Husband? How...? Why...?"

He smiled, realizing that she must'nt have remembered what had happened yesterday.

"It doesn't matter now," he said kindly. "What matters is that I would like for you to join me at the feast this evening, so people can see how beautiful and intelligent my wife truly is."

Elisabeth gave him a weary look before returning his small smile. She quickly glanced at her reflection in the mirror, before blushing self consciously.

"I give thanks to the Father for leading you to discover the truth... Before we go, can I take a moment to change my clothes?", she questioned quietly, gazing up into his eyes. Once they had filled her with unease but now caused her heart to flutter with a hint of love.

Gently laying a kiss on her forehead, Aemond motioned for one of his loyal servants to come forth. He commanded them to fill the grand bath with steaming hot water and to bring a most exquisite dress for her. "Let me be the one to tend to you my darling. I must have you look as though you are mine," he uttered in a commanding yet affectionate voice.

The servants quickly scurried to do his bidding, bringing forth everything Aemond would need to make Elisabeth beautiful. They filled the bath with fragrant herbs and oils, as well as a variety of soaps and lotions for her to use. They also brought forth an exquisite gown of rich green silk and delicate lace, complete with matching slippers.

Elisabeth silently slipped into the soothing hot bath while Aemond knelt down beside her and began to lovingly bathe her body. He took great care not to scrub too harshly on her bruises and scrapes, something that she had not expected from him. The heat and his gentle touch made her trust him more with every second. "Lord Hus- um, I mean, Aemond, might I ask you soething?"

Aemond squeezed out the sponge in his hand and gently caressed her body. He truly missed out on all of this due to his anger against the Blackss, he noted grimly in his mind and gently started brushing her long, dark hair.

"You may speak freely, Elisabeth."

Elisabeth flushed and hastily sought to conceal the exposed parts of her body, aghast at being presented thus before her husband. "I had been given milk of Poppy yesterday, which has stripped my memory," she ventured nervously, attempting to tread carefully knowing full well his notorious temper. She hoped that whatever grievances between them had subsided in his mind and uttered in an almost meek voice, "Could you tell me what happened? I..."

"Elisabeth, you do not need to be so shy and meek around me," Aemond said soothingly. "I know that is not your true temperament. I will try to reign in my anger more if it makes you feel better." Reaching for a cloth, he dried her body before helping her out of the tub and into the dress they had brought for her. As he arranged it around her frame, Aemond thought about what he should tell herknowing that avoiding certain topics would not help them move forward any better. He gathered his thoughts before finally speaking gently yet firmly.

"I do think it's best for us both if I... do not recapitulate everything, my darling." He tied the ribbons at the back of her dress and gently guided her to a seat, giving her a few pins and such so that she could arrange her hair. His member twitched slightly as he thought back to her, naked on the marble floor, her lips flush against his skin. "You hallucinated something about The Stranger, ran around the Red Keep and then you confessed to being drugged by my mother. We then reached an understanding and I carried you here," he said matter-of-factly, trying his hardest to banish the thought of her full, naked figure from his mind.

Feeling a little flustered, Elisabeth swiftly pulled her hair into a loose bun on her head, letting one or two strands flutter down onto her chest. “Oh, I'm sorry to hear I subjected you through this, I thank you for listening to me and for forgiving me," she said softly. After finishing her hairdo, she stood up and bowed towards Aemond. “Thank you, my Prince, for everything. Shall we go and have dinner?”

When the doors to the Hall opened, a hush fell over the crowd and all that remained was an eerie stillness. With an air of grandeur, Prince Aemond Targaryen strode in, his purple eye sweeping the room like a hawk, the other hidden behind his leather eyepatch. But what shocked the court even more was who he had with him. Princess Elisabeth Lonmouth walked tall and proud beside her husband, having not been seen much since their marriage six months ago. She appeared almost otherworldly with her petite stature and unusual looks, her dark hair waving languidly as a gentle breeze wafted into the Hall. Her chin was raised high and there was no hint of submission or fear in her presence.

The star of Aemond Targaryen had risen again - ready to face the Dance of the Dragons with Elisabeth by his side.

[lolahaurisfw]

✎ Introduction ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Here i'll only be taking requests for fluff, platonic, and angst! Reqs are always open like usual too, and you can request as much as you want and as detailed as you want! i just get to things when i can/want to.

Anon's: None Yet

Other Accounts: @lolas-favfics @lolamultifandom @lolahauri @chowderpop

AO3: Here

BlueSky: Here

-> MASTERLIST <-

DNI: Map, Zoo, Pro-Para, Pro-Ana, TERF, Zionist, Bigots, Discourse Blogs. Block me if you don't agree. ❤️🖤🤍💚

What I Won't Write:

Smut. (Go to my other blog)

What I'm Willing To Write:

Reader Who Is: Tall, Short, Fat, Chubby, Curvy, Buff. Trans/NB.

Reader Who Has: Depression, Anxiety, DPDR, ADD.

Fluff, angst, platonic, hurt/comfort.

HC's, one shots, short multi-chapter fics, imagines/drabbles.

Canon-friendly, AU's, Canon Divergence, Out of Character.

Ch x Ch / Ch x Reader / Ch x OC / Poly Ships of any kind.

F/F, M/M, F/M, GN/F, GN/M, Poly Ships of any kind.

Fictional Other (F/O) Imagines: +18, no names, they/them only.

Now that that's out of the way, here's the list of fandoms and characters i'm familiar with and will happily take requests on! (you can request others from these fandoms, but it will prob take me longer)

Adventure Time/Fiona & Cake: PB, Marceline, Marshall Lee, Winter King, Candy Queen, Simon, Ice King, Fiona.

Attack On Titan: Armin, Eren, Mikasa, Sasha, Levi, Hanji, Annie, Historia, Reiner, Erwin, Ymir. 

Avatar: Jake, Neytiri.

Batman Begins Trilogy: Batman, Catwoman, Bane, Joker, Scarecrow.

Beauty & The Beast: Belle, Beast/Adam, Gaston.

Bee & Puppycat: Bee, Deckard, Cass, Toast.

BigBang Theory: Raj, Leonard, Penny, Amy.

Bistro Huddy: All Staff Members.

Black Dynamite: Honeybee, Black Dynamite.

BNA: Michiru, Shirou.

Bob’s Burgers: Bob, Linda.

Breaking Bad: Jesse, Skylar.

Call of Duty: Konig, Ghost, Mace, Keegan, Krueger, Valeria, Farah.

Creepypasta: Jeff, Jane, Ben, Toby, EJ, LJ, Slenderman, Splendorman, Clockwork, Kate, Masky, Hoodie,

Desperate Housewives: Bree, Gabi, Edie, Lynette, Carlos, John.

Dirty Dancing: Johnny, Baby.

Earth Girls Are Easy: Mac, Zeebo, Wiploc, Valerie.

Elemental: Wade, Ember.

Encanto: Isabela, Bruno, Dolores, Julieta.

FNAF Movie: Vanessa, Mike, William/Steve.

Frozen: Elsa, Anna, Kristoff.

Futurama: Leela, Fry, Amy, Bender.

Good Pizza, Great Pizza: Alicante, Octavia, Dr. Keh, Nasir, Flash, Cicero, Kimmy Slice, Dr. Price.

Grandma's Boy: J.P, Samantha.

Gravity Falls: Ford, Stan, Soos, Melody, Giffany, Bill.

Jane The Virgin: Jane, Michael, Petra, Luisa, Rose, Rogelio, Xiomara.

Jurassic Park (1993): Ian Malcolm, Ellie Sattler.

Jujutsu Kaisen: Gojo, Choso, Nanami, Sukuna.

King of the Hill: Hank, Peggy, Luane, Nancy, Dale, Khan, Min, John Redcorn.

Life Is Strange (2015): Maxine, Chloe.

Lisa Frankenstein: Lisa, Creature, Taffy.

Little Mermaid (2022): Ariel, Eric.

MHA: Dabi, Hawks, Aizawa, Shigaraki.

Miller's Girl: Cairo, Johnathon.

Moon Knight: Moon System, Layla, Khonshu.

Mulan: Mulan, Li Shang.

National Treasure: Benjamin, Riley.

Nintendo: Link, Zelda, Peach, Daisy, Rosalina, Luigi, Bowser, Waluigi.

Norbit: Rasputia, Norbit.

Princess & The Frog: Tiana, Lottie, Naveen, Shadow Man.

Ratatouille: Colette, Linguini. 

Regular Show: Mordecai, Margret, Eileen, CJ, Benson.

Resident Evil: Karl Heisenberg, Carlos Oiliveria, Lady Dimitrescu.

Rick and Morty: Rick, Jerry, Beth, Doofus Rick.

Riverdale: FP Jones, Hiram.

Scott Pilgrim vs. The World: Kim, Ramona, Gideon, Wallace.

Scream 5: Amber, Tara, Sam.

Serial Mom: Chip, Beverly.

Silverado: Slick, Rae, Mal, Paden.

Shallow Hal: Rosemary, Hal.

Shameless: Lip, Fiona, Kev, V.

SheRa (2018): All Adults.

Sherlock (2010): Sherlock, John Watson.

Slashers & DBD: Brahms, Ghostface, Michael Myers, Jason Vorhees, Pyramid Head, The Spirit, Huntress, Trapper, Wraith, Trickster, Pearl, Jennifer Check, Stu Matcher, Billy Loomis, Tiffany Valentine, Patrick Batmeman, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair, Eric Draven, The Artist, Amanda Young.

Spiderverse: Miguel, Jessica Drew.

Spongebob: Dennis, Man Ray.

Squid Games: Gi-Hun, Sae-Byeok, Ali, Sang Woo.

Stardew Valley: All Adult Humans (Except George & Evelyn)

Steven Universe: Garnet, Amethyst, Peridot, Lapis, Jasper, Blue Diamond, Rose, Greg.

Stranger Things: Robin, Billy Eddie, Chrissy, Hopper.

Supernatural: Sam, Dean, Castiel.

Super Store: Amy, Jonah, Dina, Garrett, Cheyenne.

Tangled: Flynn, Rapunzel, Mother Gothell.

The Batman (2022): Batman, Riddler.

The Breakfast Club: John Bender, Allison Reynolds.

The Nanny: C.C, Fran, Maxwell.

Total Drama Island: S1 Contestants, Chris, Chef, Blainley.

Triple Frontier: Frankie, Santiago.

Turning Red: Ming Lee, Jin Lee.

Twilight: Edward, Carlisle, Alice, Charlie.

YOU: Beck, Joe, Peach, Love.

Young Sheldon: Mary, Connie.

~

Abel Morales (A Most Violent Year)

Astarion (Baulder’s Gate 3)

Babbo Natale (Violent Night)

Barbie (Barbie 2023)

Basil Stitt (Lightning Face)

Beverly Goldberg (The Goldbergs)

Bruce (Beyond Therapy)

Charles Ingalls (Little House on the Praire)

Charlie Dompler (Smiling Friends)

Chel (Road to El Dorado)

Dale Kobble (Longlegs)

Dan Conner (Rosanne)

David Levinson (Independence Day)

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

Doug Remer (Baseketball)

Duke Leto Atreides (Dune)

Fezzik (Princess Bride)

Francine (American Dad)

Fujimoto (Ponyo)

Georgia Miller (Ginny & Georgia)

Jack Harrison (Translyvania 6-5000)

Jackson Rippner (Red Eye)

Jon Arbuckle (Garfield 2024)

John Doe (John Doe Game)

Jonathan Levy (Scenes from a Marriage)

John Wick (John Wick 4)

King Baldwin (Kingdom of Heaven)

Kitten (Breakfast on Pluto)

Laurent LeClaire (In Secret)

Linda Gunderson (Rio)

Llewyn Davis (Inside Lleywn Davis)

Master Chief (Halo)

Mike (5lbs of Pressure)

Moe Doodle (Doodle Bops)

Nani Palekai (Lilo & Stitch)

Nathan Bateman (Ex Machina)

Outcome-3 (The Bourne Legacy)

Orestes (Agora)

Paul Blart (Paul Blart: Mall Cop)

Paul Cable (Last Stand at Saber River)

Peggy Bundy (Married With Children)

Peter Mitchell (3 Men & A Baby)

Poe Dameron (Star Wars)

Prince John (Robin Hood 2010)

Robert ��Bob’ Floyd (Top Gun: Maverick)

Rose Tyler (Doctor Who)

Shiv (Pu-239)

Stanley Ipkiss (The Mask)

Star-Lord (Guardians of the Galaxy)

Summer Field (Time Cut)

Tate Langdon (AHS: Murder House)

The Janitor (Willy’s Wonderland)

Thomas Magnum (Magnum, P.I 1980)

William Tell (The Card Counter)

[aphroditelovesu]

⤷✿.｡Since you voted yes to commissions, so here we are. I was a little unsure about the price, so I researched and tried to make it as fair as possible. I hope you agree with this! ❤️

Also, this is completely optional! If you don't want to, you don't have to request a commission! All the other requests works the same way!! ⤷♡.+ n a v i g a t i o n.

⤷♡.+ Status: OPEN.

What I would write

I write for any gender, both character and Reader/OC, be it female, male, neutral transsexual. Any.

Yandere!Character x Reader, Yandere!Reader x Yandere!Character, Yandere!OC x Reader and Yandere!OC X OC.

Dark!Au, Gore, Disorders, Smut/NSFW, explicit language, soft!yandere, alternative AU, Horror, Age gap (depends on how much).

Romantic, platonic and general Yanderes, as well as more specific themes; example: yandere x depressive!reader.

Stockholm syndrome.

Pregnancy, childbirth and death in childbirth.

Non-Con, Dub-Con, BDSM.

Fluff; non-yandere.

Monsterfucking, specific kinks.

Angst.

What I DON'T write

Any kind of NSFW content with children, anything with children will just be platonic.

I don't write NSFW with characters that have a childish appearance or personality, just platonic.

I don't usually write ships because I consider it something personal, but I can do it if someone wants to.

Age play, scap.

Minor x Adult (only platonic).

Prices (in $ and R$)

Headcanons

2,00 $/R$ 2,00 for 500 words;

6,00 $/R$ 6,00 for 1000 words;

12,00 $/R$ 12,00 for 2000 words;

NSFW content adds an additional charge of $3,00/R$3,00.

Imagines, Scenarios, Reactions, Oneshots, Prompts

3,00 $/R$ 4,00 for 500 words;

10,00 $/R$ 13,00 for 1000 words;

18,00 $/R$ 18,00 for 2000 words;

20,00 $/R$ 20,00 for 3000 words.

NSFW content adds an additional charge of $5,00/R$6,00.

My list of current fandoms, but I can always add more:

Anime

Attack on Titan, Amensia, Death Note, Demon Slayer, Diabolik Lovers, Fruits Basket, Haikyuu!!, Hakuoki, Hunter x Hunter, Jujutsu Kaisen, Kamigami no Asobi, Naruto, Mirai Nikki, One Piece, Blood of Zeus.

Books

Percy Jackson, Harry Potter, A Song of Ice and Fire, Pegasus and The Flame of Olympus (series), IT., A Court of Thorns and Roses (ACOTAR), The Bridgertons, Twilight, The Lord of the Rings, The Cruel Prince: The Folk of the Air, The Bridgertons, Twilight.

Games

Genshin Impact, Detroit Become Human, Mystic Messenger, Time Princess Dress Up (TP: characters), Yandere Simulator, My Candy Love (Amour Sucré), Arkyos Angel, A Plague Tale.

K-Pop

BTS, BLACKPINK, GOT7, EXO, BIGBANG, TWICE, AESPA, Stray Kids, ITZY, Hyuna and Dawn, Red Velvet, NCT, Monsta X, Taemin, Dreamcatcher, LE SSERAFIM, (G)I-DLE.

Series/TV Show

Game of Thrones, House of the Dragon, The Originals, The Vampire Diaries, Teen Wolf, Supernatural, Outer Banks, Friends, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, Euphoria, Reign, Bridgerton, The Flash, Supergirl, Outlander, American Horror Story, Wednesday, Riverdale, Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, The Sandman, Lucifer, Winx Club, Ragnarok, The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power, Invisible City (Cidade Invisível), Shadow and Bone, Adventure Time, The Witcher, Rebelde MX (RBD), Heartstopper, Hannibal, Criminal Minds, The Last Kingdom.

Movies

Disney Universe, Marvel Universe, DC Universe, Maze Runner, Halloween, Friday the 13th, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, A Nightmare on Elm Street, Transformers, How to Train Your Dragon, Miraculous, Ever After High, Monster High, Barbie Universe, Christmas Movies, Maze Runner, Avatar, Twilight, Star Wars.

K-Dramas

My Demon, Bussiness Proposal, Doom At Your Service, Hometown Cha-Cha-Cha, Crash Landing on You, My Name, Mr Queen, King the Land.

Mythology

Greek, Egyptian, Norse Mythology and Brazilian Folklore.

Historical Characters

Alexander the Great, Cleopatra, Caesar Augustus, Julius Caesar and etc...

Additional Information

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[hotd-bigbang]

Author: @targaryenrealnessdarling | Artist: @aegonx

Title: Pearl of the Realm | Category: F/M | Rating: Mature| Word count: 9.2k

Warnings: Loss of virginity, forced marriage, canon-typical sexism, smut.

Summary: Duty meant a lot of things to Aemond. But he had hoped that it would not mean marriage. And when the day comes for him to confront it, he finds with his new wife, small, naiive and innocent, that there is some pleasure to be found there also.

Read the full story on AO3.

Created as part of the House of the Dragon Big Bang '23 event on @hotd-bigbang

[steddiebang]

Steddie Bigbang 2023 Weekly Round-up: October 1 - October 7

From Hell and Back (October 1) Author: @rindecisions / Artists | @lady-lostmind & @feralsteddie One Halloween, years after the fall of Hawkins, Steve and Robin end up summoning Eddie from the depths of Hell. Steve, not knowing the ways of the occult, accidentally frees him and has to deal with a mischievous demon on the loose. Eddie drives Steve insane with various shapeshifting antics, both in and out of the bedroom, while Robin tries to find a way to send him back to hell. But, when faced with the opportunity to return his life to normal, will Steve even want to go through with it?

OR

Lots of supernatural, hentai-esque smut with a playful, romantic plot.

Steddie’s Anatomy (October 1) Author: uhhhhjhfrogs on tumblr, tttrash666 on A03 / Artist: BrainyArts on Instagram, Twitter, TikTok, Tumblr Steve was not going to leave Eddie to die in the Upside Down, no fucking way. He didn’t know what compelled him to give every last ounce of strength to rescue him but being confined to a hospital room together was about to make him figure it out.

Made of Light (October 3) Author: @hitlikehammers / Artist: @becomingfoxes​ Soulmates are anything but de rigueur in polite society—more like foolish nonsense, fairytale child’s play: embarrassments. Inconvenient, at best. But the people who have them, and still seek them out; who believe despite the odds, who still commit to finding them and binding their souls to them despite the naysaying and the backlash? Those people know the truth.

Because Soulmates? Don’t force love. Aren’t bound without choice. Are built instead on pure potential, of proportions never fathomed—and certainly never found—outside those so-called ‘old fashioned’ Bonds. They are the potential to protect love. To save love. To save the lives that kind of ineffable love holds more than just dear; the kind it holds as essential. Some people even say Soulbonds can almost change the whole world, defy the laws of physics and nature, but then—even among the believers: those stories are relegated to legend. At best. And so: this is the story of two boys from Indiana who—dodging dangers and demons and near-death experiences—wind up in a love never seen before, somehow writing out the kind of legend no one ever dared to dream.

(You got me) in the palm of your hand (October 4) Author: just-my-latest-hyperfixation (tumblr) / just_my_latest_hyperfixation (AO3) / Artists: xgumiho (tumblr) / xgumiho (instagram) / jul2ja (twitter), peachypurr (tumblr) / peachypurr (linktree) “Fortunes told, futures unfold.”

The sign at the local ren faire looks tempting. After all, Steve is one year out of high school and has no idea where his life is going. Sometimes he wishes someone could just gaze into the future and figure it out for him. 

In the fortune teller’s tent, Steve has a run-in with his past. And if he doesn’t turn on his heel and leave, it has absolutely nothing to do with how pretty Eddie Munson looks in his costume, all gleaming jewelry and dark tendrils of hair spilling out from under a patterned headscarf. He lets Eddie read his palm, because why the hell not? It’s all bogus anyway! 

Except, as the summer goes on, Steve finds that Eddie’s cryptic predictions somehow, inexplicably keep coming true. As they keep running into each other, almost as if orchestrated by an invisible force, Steve can’t help but be intrigued with the other boy. He also can’t seem to forget how pretty Eddie’s eyes look in black liner, or the way his fingers feel on his skin, but that is an entirely different problem. 

11 upcoming projects to be posted next week (Oct 8 - 14).

*To keep up with all the Steddie Bigbang 2023 posting, be sure to follow us @steddiebang or track tags like #steddiebang23, #steddiebang23 masterposts, #steddiebang23 project promo, and #steddiebang23 upcoming projects.

[valleyof-goldenlilies]

Skori Zaldrizes Ropagon Teaser [Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem! Reader]

lovely teaser artwork done by the amazing @asa-do-your-thing ! thank you for all your patience and your hard work, it was wonderful collaborating with you on this 💕

here is a little teaser of my upcoming fic submission for the HOTD Big Bang! please take heed of the warnings below.

Warnings: 18+, descriptions of violence, death and war, smut, major character deaths, angst, somewhat dark! Jace

Excerpt below:

Then, fire engulfed Jace as he jolted away in shock. The sound of a teacup clattering on the ground pulled Jace from the nightmare, and he was back in the caravan: far away from the smoke, the screams and the flames. He was still shaking as he recalled the searing sensation of fire on his skin, scorching his bones. The dark tendrils of smoke had seeped out of the crystal ball and were creeping up Jace’s fingers, and he hurriedly pulled away and shook his hands until the smoke had dissipated, feeling sick. “What in the Seven Hells was that?” His voice was tremulous with fear. 

The girl’s eyes were grim as she fixed her gaze on him. “The future of your family, and House Targaryen.” Now Jace was shaking with something much more than fear: anger. “You must be mistaken,” his words were not as steady as he had willed it to be, and he tried to correct the quiver in his voice. “Your god is a sham. All that was just illusions of the mind. You’re lying.” She must be.  

Now it was the girl’s turn to look incensed, and it was like the fury of a thousand sea storms crackled behind her eyes. “Do not dismiss the abilities of my god because of your fear, Prince Jacaerys. You know that war between your mother and your uncle is inevitable, and you would choose to play ignorant?”

coming to @hotd-bigbang November '23 🖤

[blueberrymffn]

A fic for @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang I had the pleasure of working with @temporary-lover for the art on this fic! Pairing: Dream/Hob

Rating: E Word Count: 48k Tags: Friends to Lovers, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Soul Marks, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Eventual Happy Ending, Hob Gadling POV, Soul Mates.

Read On Ao3 or Dreamwidth Summary:

When Hob Gadling made a drunken deal with a mysterious man in a pub, he didn’t expect anything to come of it. Waking up the following morning with a golden mark on his wrist was a shock, though less than finding out that he couldn’t die. Who had he made a deal with, and what did he want? His Stranger was far from forthcoming, so he’d have to figure it out himself. That his mark was not just a passkey to an underworld of supernatural beings but the sign that he wasn’t meant to spend eternity alone was enough to send him down paths he never knew existed and ask more questions than were answered. Who, or more importantly what was his Stranger, and did the mysterious man know who Hob was destined for?

(An AU where only immortals have soulmarks that mark their species/type as well as their partner, and Hob has something no one has seen before) Chapter 1 below

When Hob Gadling had woken up, hungover and sore, sleeping in the straw of the White Horse’s stable he had thought nothing of it, save that he’d drunk through all his coin again, or his friends had. The memories of the night were slow enough to return, but the central focus of them had been the mysterious lord who had taken his boasting and jest with great seriousness. The man hadn’t batted an eye when he’d promised to meet him 1489, as if it were entirely normal. A fool, clearly, as most of the gentry were, or having him on. It didn’t matter, in any case. They’d both be in the ground by then, try as he might to avoid it.

It wasn’t until hours later, having bartered a ride on the back of an ox cart headed toward his family’s stead, that he noticed the mark on his wrist - and only then because it glinted in the sun. He squinted against the brightness, turning his arm so the mark was in shadow. The thin skin over the veins of his left wrist now bore a strange, twisted mark that he couldn’t identify. He thought perhaps it was a letter, one he didn’t recognise - not like any brand for thieving or darker deeds, and in the wrong place besides. Plus it didn’t hurt; it looked painted on, like gold accents in church art. Scratching at it had no effect whatsoever, though he tried more than once during the hours in the cart.

Not until the glint of it in the flam of a candle caught his eye again at home that evening did he put this strange design and the strange lord together as a possibility. Had he sworn some service to the man that he was too drunk to remember, was this a mark of a bondsman, somehow wrought in gold? Had the man somehow been serious about meeting again?

Had he even been a man at all, and did he now bear the devil’s mark?

Sleep came uneasily that night and for many more after. Hob took to tying a strip of fabric around his wrist to hide the mark but in the course of heavy labour it dislodged often enough. He needn’t have worried; long hours spent in the sun tanned his skin and bronzed the strange little sigil until its glittering dimmed and none would look askance at it, if ever they noticed it was even there.

In time he forgot about it entirely, until one sleepless night somewhere in France in the stinking war camp of an idiot king, he realised with a start that he’d been to and from this war for far too long. The way the mind wandered when sleep threatened illuminated many things, and he thought about the young man who’d been rationing out bread. Familiar, he was, so Hob had asked his name and the lad gave it and his town. At the time it had meant nothing, his mind had accepted that knowledge without incident until now when he realised that the John Hooper who’d come all the way from Ipswich to sell his sword had looked like that… decades ago.

Somehow the understanding that the strange lord had not spoken in jest did not feel like a sudden recognition, rather something to which Hob’s innermost self simply reacted with ‘well, that does explain a few things’.

That devil’s mark protected him through to the end of the Hundred Years’ War.

Luckily in the times that followed, the fashions of the day hid the golden mark from the world. It was for his eyes only; a gift from the stranger he had now seen thrice and of whom he knew little more than at the start. Hob had stopped thinking of it as a mark of Satan, as the devil itself seemed a strange concept when you were immortal. What threat was damnation when you’d never pass under the earth? Fae then, perhaps, or some god or power he did not yet understand. It mattered not, and was a constant reminder in the mornings when he dressed of how immensely lucky he was.

Until he was not.

London never seemed so positively dreary and constantly sopping wet when Hob had seen it all from the inside of a carriage. He had looked down these narrow, dark alleys with disdain from his high horse and gave no thought to those that scrabbled for their very existence amongst society's dregs. Would that he had known of their plight, done something for them, when he was a man of means. It was difficult to see how he ever could be again, having pawned the last of his precious belongings, stolen from the Gadlen estate, nearly a year ago. The warm cloak he had bought with that money had been stolen from him by two young, strong lads not a fortnight past. Tonight it would have been a blessing.

Hob was soaked to the bone, curled up with his knees to his chest against a brick wall that seemed warmer than others that he’d made his bed against these last few years. A kitchen was on its other side, or a good hot fireplace. Oh what he would give for mere moments beside a crackling fire - but he had nothing left to give. No one on this street had, they only clustered here because the overhanging roofs above the alley offered some small semblance of shelter from the downpours of this most rainy summer.

Sharp, angry voice hollered from where the alley met a larger way, echoing on the stone and brick but not going far through the dampness of the air. Drunkards, seeking a short way home. Brave ones, to walk where angels feared to tread. He heard laughter, closer, and then the panicked begging of a man he knew by voice more than sight; old Nathaniel was mad as a hatter and twice as daft. His unintelligible protests ended in a strangled cry, followed by silence broken only by the pattering rain. Then footsteps, coming closer.

There was hardly any light in the alley, most of the moon’s glow dampened and bare candles near windows did not much at all. Even so the darkness became darker still as two men emerged from the gloom, looming over him. Fighter though he had long been, Hob hadn’t eaten in four days, drunk clean water in half again as many, and even the idea of trying to fight off robbers or murderers or drunkards looking for sport filled him with a bone-deep weariness and a deeper apathy.

One of the men forcibly hauled him up by front of his ratty, soaking wet shirt and hissed something to his compatriot in a language Hob didn’t understand. The other man laughed and Hob belayed whatever action the start of his movement implied by raising his hands to cover his face. He’d been beaten before for what he now was, he could take it again, but he had half a mind to keep his face intact.

The second man gasped and said something to his fellow in a hushed tone. He grabbed Hob’s forearm with a grip like iron that made him gasp and held him up, high enough to strain his shoulder. They conferred together for a moment and then simply released him, dropping him back to the ground and hurrying on their way.

Hob collapsed back against the wall, panting in relief, and felt over his arm for signs of a break. There were none, his bones seemed sturdy enough, but the flesh was tender and already bruising though he couldn’t see it in the dark. He could see the sigil on his wrist, however, visible to the naked eye despite the gloom even though it bore nothing so sinister as a light of its own. Had they seen it? More intriguingly, had they known it?”

Questions kept him up until morning came and with it a stop to the rain. Hob gathered himself up to head off and seek food, or work, or anything really besides sitting alone with his sorrows. A new place to sleep was paramount, as this one was no longer safe. Mad Nathaniel’s old, skinny body was discarded on the cobbles near the mouth of the alley, his face unnaturally pale with more than death although signs of blood or injury had long since washed away in the night. There was nothing he could do for the man except ponder the nature of mortality, and the value of his gift.

Hob spent weeks trying to find work to no avail, too weak for manual labour and none believing him when he spoke desperately of education or skills. The night of his meeting with the stranger approached steadily and in this year of 1689 the White Horse was no tawdry establishment; it boasted fine foods and foreign wines for finer, foreign guests. It was no tavern where a homeless lout could buy a penny ale. His only hope was to catch his stranger outside and, failing that, sneak in through the kitchens.

He had not expected his stranger to stand up for him, to command that he be unhanded and allowed to stay. The coldness in the mysterious man’s eyes seemed to have settled into something less distant even as he listened to Hob’s tale of woe with similar detachment as always. Nonetheless, every time a barmaid passed by he raised his hand and politely asked for more food for his guest. 

Their meeting was over as swiftly as ever and with it the warmth and safety of a roof over Hob’s head for the first time in near thirty years. He stood as his stranger did and made to follow, to slink back out into the darkness. The stranger stopped him, grabbing his wrist and pushing him back into his seat with a strength Hob had not expected from the lithe, little man.

“You will stay, and recover. None will assail you,” he said curtly, “Dream well tonight, Hob Gadling.”

Then he was gone, and Hob sat in abject confusion. His wrist ached like he’d been stung by a bee and he wondered perhaps if some strange magic had passed between them, from his stranger to that strange mark. It occupied his thoughts until the barmaid returned with a pasty and another mug of ale. She seemed to look right through him although her words were polite and serviceable enough. So he stayed, until the crowd thinned and the innkeepers began cleaning up around him. The same woman who still seemed to look over his shoulder at nothing bid him follow and, to his astonishment, showed him to room above without question of payment. Hob was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, no matter how mysterious, and he learned again two of life’s simplest pleasures; a hot bath and a good night’s rest.

He resolved to ask his stranger by what means he had arranged such courtesies when next they met. As years passed he became ever more thankful for them. Something so simple as clothes washed and a good shave had opened the opportunity again for hiring, allowed him the ability to rise back up from the mud and put all that he had learned before to work rebuilding his life and better planning for the future.

It also granted him the gift of boldness for their next meeting. Hob was centuries old, he should by now be so inured to life that the ghostly memory of the stranger’s touch on his wrist did not drive him to madness in the dark and quiet moments before sleep. Yet it did. Nearly every night, it did, and when he was alone and not dressed to the standard of the day he would roll up his sleeve and stare at the golden sigil on his wrist. The nature of it still eluded him, save that it was something of a protection, or luck - maybe it was the source of his immortality itself. Yet another question to ask of his mysterious stranger.

As all good plans of men, his machinations had swiftly gone awry. Hob left the White Horse with all due haste after the confrontation with Lady Johanna’s men, quick on the heels of his stranger who had said neither yes nor no to finding a new venue. Their banter had never had chance to give way to his tales of the century, or anything deeper. So many questions still unanswered in a meeting cut short to minutes rather than hours. That could not be all he had for a century, it couldn’t. Yet when he exited the tavern mere seconds after his stranger, the man in black was nowhere to be found.

He cursed a string of oaths so foul and befuddled by lifetimes of vocabulary as to make a sailor blush in any century. 

But he was not one to be deterred by hardship, not by a long shot, and the stranger’s words as always weighed heavily on his mind. All of them had, both of a personal nature and not. Liquidating his assets in the shipping business was one matter and more than a handful of his peers thought he’d gone mad - perhaps he had, but not for the reasons they presumed. If his stranger would deign to give him advice, he would by all means take it. If his stranger would bid him take caution, he most certainly would do just that.

Having Lady Constantine investigated was a simple matter when one had the means. Both would-be detectives and scoundrels were easily hired in scads about London these days and he had the money to invest in both quantity and quality. Hers was a storied family it seemed, if troubled, and Lady Johanna was the most vicious of the lot in generations, if rumours held a grain of truth.

Hob had long since sought to ignore the supernatural, a fool’s errand for an immortal, perhaps - but barest hint of witchcraft about him had him tied to a millstone and breathing pond water for days. That amorphous time until he became used to the suffering, the fading into nothingness and rising to awareness over and over, enough to shred the rope upon the stone between deaths was as real to him now as it had been over a century ago - enough so he had never taken to sea on any of his own ships, nor crossed the channel recently, and the very memory brought a cold chill with it. Such things were enough to dull a man’s interest in what lay beyond the mortal realm.

Now it seemed the realm of witches and witch-hunters had come for him.

That was how he had found himself in the plainest clothes he owned in a disreputable area where he was still well-dressed enough to catch the eyes of those he’d rather not. Being shanked in a dark alley was not in his plans for the day but seeming more and more likely by the moment. 

His surveillance upon Lady Johanna and her cohorts had lead him to several strange places and stranger people; a madwoman who crowed about gods and demons but nonetheless knew more than she let on, a vicar who swore upon all that was holy that angels existed and he had witnessed the glory of god - of little use, in the end. Lastly, a man who sold goods he claimed were not of this world and asked for ephemeral things in exchange; concepts and thoughts and hopes for the future. Hob gave him nothing but his time for asking questions, as time was something of which he had no shortage.

In the end it had been Lady Johanna himself who had led him where he needed to go; a storefront that looked surprisingly well-kept for the area but equally well shuttered. His spy had assured him here was no password or secret sign. The Lady Johanna had merely knocked and been let in with hushed words and secretive looks, and all other comers had been passing strange as the urchin had put it. Hob had passed it a few times since, he was nothing if not patience, and never seen anyone about the place - it looked like no one had done business here for years, but then so did the entire street. If rumours were true, this was the centre of all occult practice in London. Hob would have thought they could do much better.

The third time was the charm and he had finally worked up his nerve to knock upon the heavy oaken door. It seemed to dampen the noise enough he hardly thought he’d been heard and was about to try again when the metallic dragging noise of a deadbolt sounded from anon and the door creeped open a hand’s span, held to the jam by a heavy bronze chain to keep it from opening wider. Whoever stood beyond, a proprietor perhaps, remained to the side of the door out of view and it took every fibre of Hob’s being not to lean in and try to catch a glimpse of them.

“Your hand, sir,” A woman’s voice said sharply from within.

He hesitated only a moment, before reaching his right hand in to the open space as if to shake hands with the woman. That earned him an exasperated noise in response.

“Your other hand, numbskull,” she snapped.

Hob, chastened and feeling entirely out of his element, offered the other hand instead. It was grabbed from within the shadows and his sleeve pulled up to bare the wrist. The mark on his skin had faded with the genteel and indoor nature of his work these days and stood golden and glimmering against paler flesh than usual. 

The woman made a soft hum as if she were considering what she saw. “Well that is a strange one indeed,” she said and, with no further warning, dashed a tiny silver blade across his wrist. 

It wasn’t deep enough to hurt and hardly drew blood, no deeper than a papercut, but he yanked his hand back in shock. 

“Bloody hell, are you out of your mind?” he exclaimed, yanking the cuff of his sleeve down.

“Can’t be too careful these days. Come through, then,” she replied, nearly closing the door so she could unhook the chain to let him in. 

The door was bolted and barred behind him which was none too comforting. Inside the shop belied its exterior entirely. It was not well-lit but was well-appointed with cases of curios and weapons that would not be out of place at the British Museum among the pharaonic masks. Part drawing room, part exhibit hall the place was immaculate and high-ceilinged - the floor above having been gutted for height and left with only a narrow balcony encircling the edges of the room. He was the only one there.

A sharp throat clearing noise brought his attention back to his erstwhile host. She was younger than he had expected; plump and dour and none too impressed with his existence. Her clothing was far more rich than the neighbourhood outside would imply, but he figured now little here was as it seemed.

“What are ya, then?” she asked, the lilt of her accent catching him off guard now; it had shifted to something older that he hadn’t heard in a good minute. Or century, perhaps.

“Uh… Name’s Robert,” he answered - stupidly, he realised, even as he said it and she gave him a nonplussed look.

“Nay. I mean, what are you,” she replied, “Your blood’s wrong, but the mark’s real.”

“I beg your pardon?” Now he was really feeling out of his depth.

“What turned you, and sent you here,” she said slowly, like he was a bit daft and he was starting to think he might be, “Cause it’s not a vampire, or a wolf, and your sigil doesn’t have traits of anything I bloody know.”

“No one sent me, I uhm… I found you through a mutual acquaintance, as it were,” he replied, trying to regain some of his composure and deciding not to name drop the Lady Johanna in case the two were friends, or something worse.

“Ah, so… You’re new, and you have no bloody idea. Wonderful,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest, “I’m Marie LaFontaine, and I’m not fucking French.”

“I didn’t think you were,” Hob said, eyeing her curiously. It had taken a moment but he had placed the accent and it shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did, given the strange words that had so recently come out of her mouth. “York, mid-1500s?”

Marie’s obvious appraisal of him grew in consideration at that. “So you’re older than you look, then,” she replied, nodding her head.

“Much.”

“And you’ve just now decided to drop by?” she asked, “Must be nice.”

“It has been, sometimes, yes. Sometimes, not so much,” Hob replied with a smirk, starting to enjoy this little back and forth now that he was reasonably certain he was not going to be shanked in an alley or anything else even cruder. By this point in his life he was at the very least a good judge of people.

“Why seek us out now, if it’s going so well sometimes,” she said dryly.

“Because I was… accosted, as it were, by some sort of witch-hunter,” Hob replied, feeling it was best to leave his stranger out of it, “So I have been looking for answers, of a sort. Or at least information on such things. I have no desire to be caught in a jar and studied like a bug.”

“Man after my own heart,” she said, leaning back against a long counter that looked equal parts apothecary and bar top, “Constantine?”

“You know her?”

“Yes, she hardly knows me,” Marie replied, “And I like to keep it that way; Constantines have been a thorn in our side for centuries, for some more than others.”

“Right. You keep saying ‘our’ and I fear I really don’t know who you are,” Hob admitted, “Pretend like I am new, and just sent to you, like you thought; and explain to me as such. You… you knew what my mark was.”

“Well, I don’t know what your mark is,” Marie corrected him, “Bit singular, that. Usually they’ve got a signature to them that’ll at least tell me what you’re meant for, you know, angelic, demonic, fae, vampire, they’ve all got their little quirks.”

“I apologise, meant for?” Hob asked, blinking rather stupidly at her while simultaneously annoyed by her nonchalance. 

Clearly she had the answers to questions he had pondered for millennia and they were so simple to her that she had no idea how to break the concept down for the uninitiated. The result was like pulling teeth.

“It’s your soulmark, idiot. You weren’t born immortal, were you?” she asked, and it sounded more like an accusation.

“No.”

“Then that cropped up one day, and you just never questioned what it was for?”

“Of course I questioned it, but I can ask myself in the mirror all I want and it won’t give me the bloody answers!” Hob snapped, exasperated by the back and forth.

“Whoever turned you is a right prick.”

“Yes, well… He’s a bit of an odd duck,” Hob said, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck. Somehow her calm answer made him feel even more of a mess, but he wasn’t about to apologise for snapping at her. “Are you going to tell me what it’s for?”

“Well, practically speaking; gets you in where mortals fear to tread. They can’t be proper faked, you see,” she said, “Show it to another of our kind and the old laws say to help you, or at the very least they can’t hurt you.”

Hob thought then back over a century to a night spent shivering in the rain, and those men he’d thought drunken youths. They had backed off, upon seeing his arm. The beggar man, whose name he misremembered now, had not been so lucky. Had they been immortals too? Hunting for something perhaps, if what Marie hinted at was true and there really were vampires or demons or god knew what skulking about London after dark.

“So others, like us… they’d show mercy on seeing it?” he asked curiously, “Stop what they were doing.”

She raised an eyebrow at him and he did not grant the unspoken request for details. It was long enough ago that he had none, in any case. Immortality had not granted him the ability to see in the dark; he wouldn’t have been able to describe the men even the morning after.

“They certainly should,” Marie answered, “Especially if they don’t recognise the mark; if you were bound to some house they had quarrel with, perhaps not.”

“Bound?” he asked, automatically looking down at his wrist, “I’m not bound to anything, that I know of that is.” His stranger had always made it very clear that it was Hob’s choice to live, and nothing more.

“More’s the pity, I hope you find them,” Marie replied, pushing off from the counter to head around behind it. She drew out a rolled up piece of what looked like parchment, tied with twine, from beneath it and rolled it out on the counter. “Come on then, I don’t bite.”

Hob approached and looked down at the scroll. Whatever it was he had expected, it wasn’t a map of London - and seemingly an updated one at that.

“Take a proper gander, memorise the red marks. Those are all places your mark gains you admittance, and aid if you seek it, with the promise that you’d do the same,” she said, glancing up at his face, “Maybe you’ll find your match there if you look around a bit.”

“My match?” he asked, focused intently on the map. He was a fair hand at memorising things, but it was a lot.

“Aye, do you really think you’ll face the slings and arrows of this world alone for eternity?” Marie asked incredulously, “None could. Someone out there has a mark like yours, or at least something like it. You’ll know it when you see it, or when they touch you.”

“Right…” Hob said slowly, nodding as if what she had said wasn’t completely insane, “And they’re meant to be what, exactly?”

Marie now clearly thought he was an idiot, and likely unworthy of his immortality, if the look she were giving him was any indication. She gave a longsuffering sigh and began rolling the map back up despite him having hardly gotten a look at it, but he knew a few of the red marks and committed them to memory - the one by King’s Cross was, he was reasonably certain, a rather exclusive gentleman’s club that never solicited new members. Apparently this was why; it was full of… of what? Immortals? He couldn’t imagine that everyone was like him, human and a bit blessed with longevity, because now every rumour and old wive’s tale of vampires, werewolves, and the bloody fae were crowding in his mind.

“Your soulmate, of a sort,” she said eventually once she realised he wasn’t just having her on and was legitimately out of his depth, “Usually romantic, sometimes not - more’s the pity for them folks, then.”

“Ah… Would’ve liked to know that a few centuries back,” he replied, those rumours and tales pushed out of his mind immediately by the thought of Eleanor, and their son.

“Yes, well, like I said; whoever as turned you is a right prick.”

“Or maybe, maybe he’s simply not around much?” Hob offered, unsure if he was on to something there or if he was going to sound like a numpty again, “I only see him every hundred years and he wants to know about… society, I suppose. Is there somewhere else he could be?”

“Aye, could be a fae save that your mark isn’t any of the high courts. A demon, but your mark isn’t that either,” Marie replied with a shrug, “There’s probably other things, but I’m no scholar. Look, we got a vested interest in protectin’ our own. Politics are a bit shite and all, but you made it this long you’ve got some sense. Muck about a bit, you might find someone as knows more than me. Doubt it, though.”

“A glowing recommendation of your own superiority,” Hob said dryly, some measure of wits returning to him at last as things began to slot into place in his worldview.

“Indeed. You know where to find me.” Hob knew a dismissal when he heard one, but hadn’t been given one that felt so final since Queen Elizabeth last sent him from court. With a jaunty wave, he slipped out of the building and couldn’t help but look over his shoulder as he took a circuitous route through the disreputable part of town. The world had grown quite a lot larger all of the sudden and with so many unknowns swirling about it, his security in his own safety was a bit shaken. His stranger, his maker, he corrected himself with the now more appropriate term had been very clear ‘you can be hurt, or captured’. It had seemed long odds when he was one man dithering about and becoming his own son but with a whole secret society, or underbelly of London, full of those like himself, perhaps exponentially older than himself, he had bigger things than the Constantines to worry about.

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