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emilykaldwen · 8 months ago

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

Rating: Explicit Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

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

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Author's Note: After a lot of encouragement, I will be posting chapters in their entirety here and on AO3. Many many huge thanks to @acrossthesestars for being my co-pilot, and for holding my hand through writing this story. Thank you to everyone who has reblogged and commented. Your words mean the world to me.

CHAPTER ONE - THE WEIGHT THAT BROUGHT US HERE

Alicent watched the lords of the council settle into their seats, placing their markers in the proper place. Lord Tyland Lannister took his seat at the opposite end of the magnificent table, Lord Lyman Beesbury to his right. Maester Mellos and then Lord Larys at her own left hand. Jasper Wylde sat beside her father’s usual place at the right hand. The power of the realm all concentrated right in this room. They prayed to the Crone for guidance and wisdom at the beginning of every meeting, a practice that had thankfully not reached the ears of the king, as he’d been cloistered in his rooms since his illness had taken more of his body. It was one thing to allow her Faith to grace their dinner table. It was a whole other to have the Faith find its place at the Small Council. While his signature still graced the decrees, and his decisions still paramount for he was the King, Viserys had left the dealings of the realm to them. It was for the best - Viserys’ mind was giving way to his illness and the less seen, the better. Alicent didn’t know what she preferred: her husband demeaning her and neglecting her children, or him calling her Aemma when she came to care for him at night.

She grazed her fingers over the polished black marble ball in front of her as Maester Mellos began rattling off the never ending fighting between the Brackens and Blackwoods that not even the Father bearing down from the heavens himself could stop. They continued to tear themselves apart as if they would win all the gold in Casterly Rock for the longest, most ridiculous spat that the Tullys were no longer capable of handling. Sometimes she wished she could just drag charcoal lines along the map, piece off the floodplains to the north and the west and the mountains, let the other kingdoms take their pieces.

“Begs the question if perhaps it isn’t time to elect a new Lord Paramount to bring them to heel,” Lord Wylde harrumphed in his self-important way. The man was well and agreeable enough, Alicent thought, but every time he spoke, she missed Lyonel Strong. None of his proposals contained this ‘begging the question’ sort of nonsense, and none of Wylde’s attempts had any of the late Lord Strong’s well thought out solutions and easy friendliness.

“Unless grievous injustice is done, we cannot normally strip the title of Lord Paramount, but their inability to bring either house to heel since given the title is threatening the stability of the realm. Blackwoods own more land than the Tullys, and now we have reports they’ve gone undermining one another’s orchards, and putting others at risk.” Jasper turned his gaze to Larys, who had not spoken since the prayer. “Strong, your holding is Harrenhal. What do you have to say about this matter?”

Larys’ manner did not fool Alicent, but it worked wonders, as always, on Jasper. “This quarrel of theirs has lasted as long as the dynasty and longer still. King Jaehaerys brokered peace, and we cannot ascertain what sparked it again.” From the nervous licking of his lips to the fidgeting of his hands, he was a master at seeming far less dangerous than he truly was. “You might seek instead the opinion of my dearest uncle Simon. He is the castellan and knows both it and the Riverlands far better than I do, as I’ve been here during most of this recent infighting. ”

Wylde humphed, twitching his nose in such a way that his bushy mustache reminded Alicent of a walrus she’d seen at Driftmark. She dug her nails into her palm to hold back her laugh. “Should we offer the Tullys more incentive?” Wylde blustered, reaching for a solution that he could take credit for.

“Incentive for not letting their bannerman destroy harvests?” Tyland Lannister snorted, reclined in his chair as if he were the one running the meeting. “That’s their duty. If they can’t do it, then there’s a bigger issue to deal with.”

“Perhaps a betrothal,” Lord Beesbury spoke up, his eyes darting from Larys’ to hers. Alicent straightened, watching the man try to figure out how to present his own suggestion. “The Tullys are proud, and the Riverlands command a great host when they come together. Lord Tully’s great-grandson is around Princess Helaena’s age. It would be a show of friendship and goodwill.”

“A show of a dragon is what you mean, isn’t it?” Her father’s voice cut in smoothly, but she could see the annoyance in his eyes at the prospect of Helaena being sent to the Riverlands. She did not want her sweet girl sent so far away either, but his words hurt in their easy protectiveness of her daughter, when they had never done for herself.

“Dragons are a statement, my Lord Hand. If not the princess, perhaps… Lord Strong, your youngest sister is not yet married,” Beesbury continued, flush with ideas. Was Rhaenyra feeding them to him?

“If Grover Tully, or whomever is handling their seat, cannot bring them to heel, we should have the Lords Bracken and Blackwood come and explain themselves to the crown,” she cut in before Beesbury could really get his momentum going. Heads turned to look at her, and Alicent looked to the Grand Maester. “Send ravens today. By the moon’s turn, I want them before the Iron Throne explaining themselves.” There was a curl of satisfaction on her lips as the aging Mellos gestured to his assistant. “We should also have Lord Tully, or his son, also come to answer. I know Lord Grover has been recently ill,” she continued. Authority and compassion were the balance she must always strike, so that her decisions could not be questioned, her judgment nothing but sound. She was the Mother of the Realm after all.

“Well said, your Grace,” Larys said softly, that shadow blink of a smile on his face. Lord Beesbury’s suggestions were easily dismissed.

Tension knotted between her shoulder blades, and she shifted in her chair to relieve the pain. She drummed her fingers on the armrest of the chair as her father’s warning spun dizzily through her thoughts.

Either you prepare Aegon to rule, or you cleave to Rhaenyra and pray for her mercy.

That morning, Ser Criston found the boy who might be king passed out in the stables with his cock in hand; at least her father hadn’t found out. Alicent felt nauseated at the idea of sacrificing a girl barely younger than she’d been in an attempt to corral her son into leadership.

The doors of the chamber opened. Ser Harrold Westerling entered the room with the head dragonkeeper, Arryx, following behind. Her father rose not in a show of respect for the Kingsguard Commander, but some show of power - the unyielding stone and height of the tower that would not bow to neither wind nor storm.

“Forgive my tardiness, your Grace, my lords.”

Her father waved a hand and sat back down. “We were told that you were attending to an urgent matter, Lord Commander.”

Ser Harrold clasped his arm across his chest and bowed to her. “This morning, I was alerted to events that transpired last night inside of the dragonpit. Keeper Arryx wanted to speak of the matter to you personally.” Ser Harrold stepped back to allow the aging keeper to take the floor. Alicent gave her own nod to the man as he rose from his prostration.

“Dreamfyre has laid another clutch of eggs. Only three, your Grace, and she will let no one near them. Vhagar has been circling,” Arryx said.

Alicent frowned. Dreamfyre had not laid a clutch in several years now, and Vhagar rarely came to the pit. She was too old, too large, with little desire to be kept with her smaller brethren. The horrific beast preferred a rocky outcropping far out into the bay.

Aemond had given her a quizzical look when she’d brought it up once, when he was still bedridden and recovering from his mutilation. Her sweet boy was now strung through with a confidence that she’d never seen ignite within him when he had both eyes. The dangerous glint that confidence took as he’d grown older was also new.

She’s protecting what is hers, mother. We both are, he’d said.

“I have spoken with the Commander of the City Watch, your Grace, to ensure that those in the areas closest to the pit keep their distance unless absolutely necessary. It has allowed us to take stock of the current state of those neighborhoods.” Ser Harrold turned to look at Ser Otto. “A full report will be on your desk.”

Her father nodded, and Ser Harrold looked once more to the keeper.

Arryx shifted on his feet, and Alicent watched his eyes flick to the Grand Maester with an expression that she could not discern. The Citadel and the Hightowers have always stood side by side for the betterment of the realm, Alicent, and you’ll continue to foster that friendship, won’t you?

“Five of the kitlings have also died, your Grace. They were unbonded, brought from Dragonstone before…”

Before Daemon had come back.

“How many dragons does this put us at?” Her father’s deceptively mild tone was the opposite of his glee when Aemond had claimed Vhagar. The numbers requested were ones he’d calculated in his head, monthly, since he’d come back.

“Claimed, my lord?” Arryx asked, pausing momentarily. “Eleven, throughout the family. Lady Rhaena’s dragon hatched, but it was born twisted and sickly and did not last. I have not received word otherwise of any intention for Lady Rhaena to come and try to claim another dragon.”

Half of the dragons were claimed. Alicent watched her father drum his fingers along the table. Identifying the pattern took only a moment. He was counting.

Specifically, the dragons that were on their side.

“I want reports of the necropsies upon their completion,” her father said with a narrowed and assessing look, disturbed by the news. “The last thing we need is some strange illness to rip through all of them.”

Alicent chewed on the inside of her lip and watched the shining outline of the seven-pointed star beaming down on the table.

“Syrax is almost big enough for two riders now. Will you come touch the clouds with me, Alicent? Please?” Rhaenyra had always begged, mouth close to her ear, hands stroking her arms, her wounded and bloody fingers.

The joyful look that Aegon once gave her now reserved for a beast: “I’ve never known love until Sunfyre, mother. It’s like the world has color now that we’re together.”

“Dreamfyre keeps me tethered to the ground even as I fly in my dreams. She’s the only anchor I have,” said Helaena, who would withdraw from her touch as if it were a sting from a bee.

Little Daeron and his dragon clutched in his arms: “I can’t leave Tessarion behind, mother! I won’t know how to be happy without her!”

Dragons had robbed Alicent of everything.

“Thank you, Arryx. I will speak to the children and see what Prince Aemond might do about Vhagar.” The idea of her sweet, once immaculate and tender-hearted child being near that twisted, hoary thing still terrified her, no matter how gently reassuring Aemond could be.

Arryx did not move to leave just yet. “Forgive me, your Grace, but Vhagar is no Vermithor or Sunfyre: she is old and willful, and although she is bonded with our prince, I would suggest caution. He is… young, and Vhagar was forged in the fires of battle.”

He bowed once more before taking his leave.

Even in indescribable pain, in the face of his own father’s disregard and disdain, Aemond sought to soothe her. “Do not mourn me, mother. It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon.”

What else would her father do to get more dragons on their side?

Nervous tension pulsed in the silence left when the doors closed behind the dragonkeeper, filled only by the soft creak of the Kingsguard’s mail and the gentle clink of the chain around Grand Maester Mellos’ neck as he shifted in his chair, barely audible. The enduring mystery and curiosity of dragons was a specter of The Stranger above them all. Alicent had heard her kingly husband remind Rhaenyra repeatedly: Dragons were not pets. The bond with them should not blind their riders to the power that thrummed ancient and thick in their veins.

She breathed slowly, letting the quiet ease, refusing to meet anyone else’s eyes as the tumult of feelings inside of her crashed upon the jagged edges of her broken ribs. This was the right choice. Her babies were only half-Targaryen, and Rhaenyra’s bastards were the same, whether she’d ever admit to it or not.

Everyone in the room had grown up with the stories that the Conquerors spread when they forged the throne: The Valyrian blood magic that had made them dragonriders was only to be found in their Targaryen blood. That bloodline needed to remain pure. Yet, Rhaena’s pure Valyrian blood did not save her first dragon from being born sickly and dying quickly, while Aemond - Targaryen only by half - bonded with Vhagar, the most powerful beast in the world.

There were no further reasons to believe the Targaryens were gods after all, and above the realm they had conquered.

The great chair of the King creaked as she slowly rose, taking in the council before her. There were no Targaryens in this room, even if she had birthed her own clutch of half-dragons. Alicent bore this task without joy or fanfare. It was a duty to be endured for the good of her family, for the good of her realm.

She stood with her hands folded in front of her, the image of the Mother of the Realm. Alicent had done this once before, when she had declared that she was standing in an official capacity for her husband.

“My lords of the council,” She hedged a glance at her father before moving her gaze to each man at the table. Ladies of the realm should be on the council. “It is with great joy and love that the King and myself, with Lord Larys Strong, announce to the small council that we have arranged the betrothal of our son, Prince Aegon Targaryen, and Lady Abrogail Strong.”

Each of the lords straightened in their chairs. Lord Beesbury frowned and glanced away from her. The uncertain and uncomfortable shifting in his chair belied the embarrassment he was attempting to hide. Alicent felt no need to point it out. It was a fine idea that he’d presented and not his fault he did not know what had already been decided. Even if he was Rhaenyra’s lapdog, Alicent would be the better person, and not rub his face in it.

The congratulations buzzed in her ears as she sat back down in her chair, and beneath the table, she tore at the skin along her left thumbnail. The pain was as dull as the congratulations in her ears. Her father’s voice was distant, jovial even.

They hadn’t even told Aegon and Abrogail yet. She remembered standing in the same position, knowing what was coming, knowing what it would destroy and desperately hoping that it might not.

I have decided to take a new wife. I intend to marry Lady Alicent Hightower before Spring’s end.

I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Rhaenyra forgive me forgivemeforgiveme.

“A feast is in order to announce Prince Aegon and Lady Abrogail’s betrothal,” Tyland’s jovial tone broke the silence. His suggestion—or statement, depending on how Alicent took it—was not one that she’d expected when she sat down in Viserys’ chair, but welcomed the confirmation of his support.

Meanwhile, Larys’s expression gave nothing away. He simply inclined his head in agreement.

Her son — her trueborn son — for all his faults, deserved to be celebrated. She was happy she didn’t have to fight for this. It was Mellos who spoke next: “Given the last wedding that was celebrated within these halls, it would be a reassuring gesture to the Lords of the Realm if they were given the opportunity, and for us to show unity within House Targaryen. With the Prince’s nameday in a few moons, perhaps we can celebrate with a tournament.”

Alicent’s eyes cut to her father, who smiled lightly, nodding in agreement but careful not to say a word, allowing the Maester to be responsible for the idea.

“Even better,” Tyland raised his goblet in agreement. “We haven’t had a proper celebration in years. What better occasion? Lord Rickard Reyne will be overjoyed to hear the honor bestowed on his granddaughter.” He looked over at her father. “I take it you’ll be writing to him, Lord Hand?”

The last time Alicent had seen her uncle Lord Rickard had been at her mother’s funeral: now no longer the worst day of her life, but the memory that was still seared into her mind. She recalled Lord Reyne as a stoic man, but he’d been kind to her in her grief. Alicent hoped the years had not taken that away from him, but they likely had.

Time always stole away kindness.

Lord Beesbury looked pensive. Alicent could practically hear the man pushing house markers along the map in his head as the conversation continued. “Was Princess Rhaenyra involved in such a discussion?”

“The Princess Rhaenyra has continued to seclude herself and,” he paused, his gaze heavy and considering as he took in those around the table. “Her second husband, Daemon Targaryen, at Dragonstone. Neither has she come to the small council as her status allows, nor has she engaged with matters of the realm that her being heir gives her right to,” her father said smoothly, and he was right. “The king still grieves his daughter’s choices, and she has yet to amend with him. I agree with Lord Lannister and our Grand Maester. This would show the strength and unity and willingness of House Targaryen to bond and celebrate with the realm.”

Beesbury gave a humorless chuckle. “And nothing to do with presenting Prince Aegon formally.” As a contender. As a choice - that was left unsaid.

Alicent felt a surge of anger inside of her, instinct compelling her to protect her children and pull the wool Viserys and Rhaenyra spun from Beesbury’s eyes so he could see the truths they refused to acknowledge.

Not long after Aemond had been born, Lord Lyonel had enlisted her in trying to get Viserys to hold another declaration to follow Rhaenyra, if she was truly his desired heir even with two healthy boys of his blood. The King had originally chosen Rhaenyra because of the loss of Baelon and Aemma. Everyone wanted to keep Daemon off the throne, lest he became another Maegor the Cruel… and now, he was to be Rhaenyra’s consort, and Viserys still would do nothing. Alicent refused to believe that Rhaenyra would kill her half-siblings, that she would kill Alicent’s children for whatever love had been there. Every dark, curly haired little boy caused her to fear not what Rhaenyra would decide, but what others would encourage her to do. Her father had not been wrong - her sons would be beacons of rebellion, damned by the man who had so desperately craved a son, yet now ignored. How bitter a pill.

Daemon terrified her. They should all be terrified of him. Daemon now had Rhaenyra’s ear and her heart and her body. Daemon was not one to hesitate if something stood in his way.

Did you fuck Daemon Targaryen in a pleasure house? Targaryens have such queer customs.

“Prince Aegon is eight and ten, an accomplished dragonrider, ah…” Mellos trailed off, and the uncertainty on his face clawed at Alicent’s insides. Failure was acid in her throat.

Either you prepare Aegon…

That boy who would be king had groped six serving girls at the last feast before drinking and whoring his way through the Street of Silk.

“My sister and heir is of unimpeachable character,” Larys’ quiet voice carried within the room. “As a child, Abrogail was a playmate of Prince Aegon and his siblings, and she has become a beloved ward of Queen Alicent, who has done a remarkable job of raising her after the deaths of our parents. I would consider her to be a prime example of all our realm offers to a family that has, if I may be candid, gone to great lengths to keep to their own since the conquest. Wouldn’t you agree, Grand Maester?”

That poor girl she’d now chained to him was a picture of the Maiden. It had taken everything to ensure that her father waited for it. She would not have another bride offered to the throne before she was of age, while her father wanted nothing more than for Aegon to grow up.

Tension crept back into the room at Larys’ words. Nobody would think to utter these thoughts had Viserys been sitting there. Mellos cleared his throat and avoided her father’s gaze to adjust the heavy chain around his neck. The title of Grand Maester had been his even before Viserys’ reign, and he was possibly the closest representative that was not her to speak to Viserys’ mind.

“I would agree, Lord Strong. Perhaps even exploring the eventuality of wedding Prince Aegon’s children to Prince Jacaerys’ would… reassure Princess Rhaenyra. She once suggested a betrothal between Princess Helaena and-”

“We already have other candidates in mind for my daughter,” Alicent cut in immediately. She wouldn’t say anything about Jace’s children and future grandchildren. She refused to entertain the idea that Helaena would marry Rhaneyra’s son to cover her indignity and insult to everything that she had been given and born into. “We have time before the wedding,” she said with a gentler tone. “A year should be more than enough to introduce them to the realm and start introducing Prince Aegon to newer responsibilities befitting his station.”

That was time enough to beat her son into someone who could be King.

Morning light streamed through the gauzy, sage curtains of the princess’ room. Abrogail licked the honey clinging to her fingers as she moved towards the washbasin, abandoning half-eaten bread and cold cuts of meat at the table. Helaena also ignored their meal as she lingered at the only window that could give her a good view of the Dragonpit. Vhagar had been on the prowl that morning, unusually territorial, and the change in the dragon’s temperament had entranced the friend whom she called sister. She jumped when Abby ventured near her, eyes wide and body tense as a startled cat, so the redhead pivoted in the opposite direction in order to retrieve Helaena’s bodice. Normally, she did not wear one unless the Queen noticed, but on days when her mind drifted, the structure of the garment seemed to keep Helaena focused on the moment instead of her dreams. The princess was somewhere else in her thoughts, mechanically holding up her arms to have the bodice slipped over her shift.

“I’m going to tighten the laces now, alright, Helaena?” Abrogail told the princess as she always did, walking through the process so she wasn’t surprised by anything.

Helaena gave no verbal indication that she was listening, but Abby noticed her pale blonde head bob in acceptance. Slowly, she began straightening the garment, mindful of keeping her touch on the lacing and the chemise from pulling and pinching uncomfortably and defeating the purpose.

“Pink and red, he might be dead. Blue and black, no coming back,” Helaena murmured. Her gaze drifted to Myrella Penrose, who approached with a yellow, diamond patterned dress for inspection. “I don’t want my scales to be so bright.” Helaena’s voice did not rise from her quiet tone, and her gaze flitted away.

“How about the new one from Sevenmas?” Abby offered brightly before Myrella’s face could twist into the uncertain and disturbed look it took whenever Helaena drifted. “The ocean blue one with the beading. That’ll be nice to feel, right, Helaena?”

The princess tilted her head about, humming. “Yes, that would be.” She threaded her fingers together, pressing in so the knuckles would crack. Myrella visibly winced at the sound, but Abby just shook her head and carefully tucked the laces into the bodice. “The perfect hug,” came the breathless statement, before Helaena’s bright lavender eyes finally focused away from whatever she was tracking to turn around and look towards her. Abby took the dress from Myrella and offered her cousin a smile as she held it up. She was used to Helaena’s inquisitive gazes, as if she was a bug under the pretty Maester’s glass Aemond had gifted his sister. “Do you need them, too?”

“A hug?” Abby frowned.

“Scales - armor to protect you,” she clarified. Helaena held her arms up to slide the dress over her head, and Abby left her to do the little buttons down the front herself. “Or would you prefer a pretty carapace? Silver and reds, greens and blue. Pinks and black and gold.”

Abby laughed at the idea of being covered in so many colors, and Helaena even returned the smile as she finished her buttons. It was a good sign, and the tingle of worry that had been crawling up and down along her spine immediately eased. “To be decorated in so many colors? That would make for lovely armor.”

Helaena’s mood was improving, which meant that when the Queen finally came in, she wouldn’t immediately launch into fretting and worrying about the princess being in ‘one of her episodes.’ Abby knew the Queen did not mean it badly, but it still made her uncomfortable. Were her mother still there, she would say something if Abby expressed her concern. She was alone here now, and things were as different as the day and night.

The door creaked open, but it wasn’t Alicent who entered. Helaena’s little smile turned bright and beaming: “Aemond!”

At four and ten, the boy was steadily growing with each passing turn of the moon. While bypassing Abrogail in height was no difficult feat, he now stood as tall as his sister and mother. Prince Aegon was the next family member he was bound to outgrow, and the Queen had already tasked her with ordering clothes to be made ready for when Aemond shot up again. Lord Otto towered over most, and he japed that Aemond might make it where Aegon had failed to surpass him.

Hearing Helaena’s joyous declaration, Abby caught a spray of pink blooming on his pale cheeks, and Aemond reached up to adjust the soft leather strap of his eyepatch. The scar no longer looked angry, but it was prominent; a ridge of thick skin that was only just smoothing out with time. The prince held a jar carefully in his hands. He took several steps before Abby clucked her tongue at him the way she would at her own cat, though Theraxis had not joined her that morning in Helaena’s room. Earlier, a maid brought along with their meals news that the cat was gallivanting in the discarded feathers while the scullery maids plucked chickens.

“Your mother will be up any minute. She said she doesn’t want to catch you in here anymore,” Abby warned with an arched brow. There was no censure in her teasing tone. Aemond was nearly her own little brother, although much was changing as they left their childhoods behind.

“She won’t be here for him,” Helaena said in a voice far more present than it had been before, Aemond’s very presence pulling her back down to earth and away from the clouds. “What did you bring me?” Even though her buttons were only half-done, Helaena rushed across the room to Aemond with her arms outstretched and fingers wiggling. “Oh! It’s beautiful! Abby! Look!” She held up the jar filled with little sticks and leaves – a fat blue and yellow cocoon precariously hanging from one forked stick inside. “I wonder if it belongs to the ones I released last year.”

“You’ll be the mother of all the moths and butterflies in the Red Keep,” Aemond said softly, so softly that Abby could hardly hear him despite standing close by.

Abrogail moved away from the siblings, smiling at Myrella and leading the woman to the opened door. “Thank you for your help this morning. I believe the Queen will need you more today. Let her know we’ll be going to the gardens later, if you please.” Lately, the Queen had been sending the Penrose woman to help Abby tend to the princess’ needs. It had made her nervous. When she asked the Queen if she was being replaced, the words stuck to her throat. Her Grace had been adamant that it was not the case at all, that it was only so Abrogail could learn from her in preparation for her own running of a household, and give Helaena time to get used to someone else helping her.

Another part of Abby wondered if the Queen knew Aemond was still coming to visit in the morning. Or worse, that Uncle Otto was spying. Abby was protective of her friends, her kin. They were siblings bonded through the years of fights in the mud and pranks and stories in the nursery. Bonds such as theirs were not so easily broken; they only changed as time passed, as things happened, like Aemond losing an eye.

Myrella Penrose gave her a tight smile and left down the hall. Abby watched her go, lingering in the door as Aemond and Helaena whispered in the room. Her friend’s quiet giggles were a rare sound, and Abby would do anything to protect those moments for her, for them both. She tugged at the embroidered cuffs of her dark blue-gray dress, thumbs brushing the little weirwood leaves sewn in delicate scarlet thread. Little golden dragons danced through them as a symbol of her ties with the family. Aegon had picked the golden thread, predictable as ever, when she’d asked his opinion.

She thought of the embroidered knot Helaena had been making – silver and green, tangling with red and black and gold. There were so many twists, but Helaena assured her that there was a rhyme to it, a dance with complicated steps. Aemond’s soft laugh cracked a bit, and Abby bit her lower lip to hide her giggle at the sound. She turned her head, and while she couldn’t quite make them out, she could see their shadows along the stone floor. They stood close together, heads bowed over something - maybe the jar, she couldn’t tell.

Heavy and purposeful footsteps echoed down the hall. Abby’s head snapped up from where she stood within the doorway, not immediately visible. She strained to identify the cadence, and her stomach twisted when she did.

“It’s him,” she hissed, glancing wide-eyed over her shoulder. Aemond’s head was close to Helaena’s with her hands resting on his shoulders. At Abby’s raised alarm, her fingers twisted in his dark green doublet and yanked him towards the partition, shoving him behind it. Abby snatched the jar with the precious cocoon inside and tucked it on the bookshelf behind the embroidered manticore Helaena had just finished. Otto Hightower’s footsteps were not alone, although the Hightower guards did not enter the Princess’ room when he swept in. Abby immediately dropped into a curtsy, a murmur of, “Lord Uncle.” Helaena bobbed slightly, twisting back and forth a bit. “Good morning, grandfather,” she said, bounding up to press a kiss on his cheek. If Otto had any weakness, it would be his unparalleled love and favoritism of his granddaughter. It was hard to tell how much Helaena enjoyed her grandfather’s attention and how much was one of her games, but whatever it was, it worked.

“Good morning, sweet girl. You look lovely today.” Otto’s voice was fond, his smile more gentle than he seemed capable of. He was an intimidating man. Abby had received nothing but kindness and vague disinterest, but he still made her nervous. “I hope you don’t mind, but I need to borrow your cousin.” She felt her cheeks color as Otto’s gaze moved to her. Her mouth dried as her nerves returned to where they’d been when standing before the Queen, wondering if she was being replaced. Perhaps Larys was sending her back to Harrenhal or her sister was demanding she go to her in Casterly Rock.

Helaena smiled at her, though, with her hands folded across her stomach. “I’ll help you with your carapace later,” she reassured her. “You won’t be without armor.”

Closing the door behind them, the Hightower guards followed a few paces behind as Abby fell in step with him.

“Is everything alright?” she asked as they went left instead of right, towards the Hand’s tower. It had been years since she’d walked this path that had been as familiar to her as the gardens of the Red Keep. Her eyes glanced for the loose stone at the corner of the step, where she’d stow secret messages in the little hollow behind it. Had she left a note there? Was there perhaps a mystery one waiting for her?

“It is. And I hope you have been well yourself.” Lord Otto looked down at her gently, and she nodded. “The Queen says you pray often in the Sept?”

A prompt. A strange one, but a prompt all the same. She swallowed past her dry mouth and put a smile on her face. “Yes, I enjoy the quiet, and it helps me feel closer to my parents.” And brother, but she was careful not to mention Harwin around anyone but a handful. “It’s especially nice when her Grace joins me. It’s almost like I have my mother back.” No one could replace her mother, but the Queen had been there for as long as she could remember, and sometimes, when she tilted her head a certain way and the light caught in Queen Alicent’s auburn curls, she could pretend her mother was there once more.

“Her Grace speaks highly of you – how good you are with Princess Helaena, well behaved and polite. She said that you and the princess have made things for the poor children of the city. A very kind and admirable pursuit for you both. Your father would be very proud.”

“Thank you.” Abby wasn’t sure what else to say or what he was getting at as they began climbing the winding staircase. The familiarity of it hit her like a scent memory - one sudden and revealing of long-forgotten feelings. “I do my best to follow the Queen’s guidance and reflect well on my position within the family and her example.”

“Good. Very good.” She wasn’t sure if it was something she was supposed to reply to, so she hedged her bets and remained quiet. Her palms were sweating, and she discreetly wiped them on her skirt as she held the fabric. “I’ve noticed that you and Prince Aegon do not spend as much time together as you used to.”

Aegon? Why was she being asked about Aegon? Her stomach twisted, and she felt a prickle of heat along the back of her neck. It was true: they didn’t spend as much time together, but they hadn’t for years now, not since she spent more of her time with Helaena and… Aegon? Well, Aegon had been withdrawing slowly but surely for so long, like fraying threads at the seams. She’d be lying if she claimed to not miss him, because she did. She missed the happier boy he’d been, who did not constantly ply himself with drink and was more mercurial than a wild dragon.

Abrogail would also be lying if she claimed they saw little of one another, or spent no time at all because that was untrue as well. Until the past few moons, she’d gather lunch for the two of them when he finally rose well past noon, and he’d take her flying wherever he and Sunfyre desired to go. It had been something quiet and cherished, simply the three of them away from everything. Until Aegon had gotten in the tavern brawl all that time ago. Until Aegon started avoiding her. Until he barely acknowledged her at meals that he decided to join, even when he sat beside her. There was no way that Otto Hightower would not be aware of that, and she would not hedge around it. It wasn’t like anything untoward was happening.

“Not as much, but that is a natural casualty of leaving behind childhood. He found me earlier this week because it seemed there was a lack of honey cakes in the kitchen and I was the first to be interrogated.” There was a note of amusement in her voice, and Abby smiled in memory of his indignation and how silly he looked when she shoved honey cake into his mouth to stop his ranting. “He occasionally accompanies me in the Sept to pray. It’s incredibly kind of him to do so.”

She mounted a few more steps before realizing that Lord Hightower had paused. She turned to look at him. Morning light streaked through the narrow, delicate paned windows, casting shadow and illuminating dust in the air. He stared up at her, and with a few steps between them, she stood at his height. It was the first time she’d ever met her uncle’s eyes. Unlike her own unreadable brother, Otto’s face was not so impassive. He looked intrigued by her admission. Abby’s hands wound into her skirt so as not to fidget.

“He was not inappropriate, if that is your concern, my lord. Prince Aegon behaved with due respect.” To defend Aegon was second nature to her, and she would do so towards arguably the most powerful man in the realm if it meant to spare Aegon more shame and ire when, for once, he’d done nothing wrong. Which was true. Aegon hadn’t said a single thing. He knelt beside her, lighting candles, and simply stayed with her while she prayed for her family. He hadn’t even put a hand of comfort on her shoulder. She felt that was worth mentioning, given his current proclivities. She would not deny his vices, but she would not break confidence, and she would let no one, especially Lord Otto, think any worse of him if she could help it.

“Very good.” It took everything in her to keep the bewilderment off her face as she tried to understand what exactly he was trying to figure out. Otto resumed their progress, although now he rested a heavy hand between her shoulder blades like a father guiding a child. “So, you have no current complications with him?”

Complications? Did he think she’d lifted her skirts for Aegon? It wasn’t like she’d never thought of kissing him on those lazy afternoons when they’d lay in the grass and stare at the sky somewhere in the Kingswood with Sunfyre sunning himself like a cat. Of course she’d thought about kissing him, especially when he was at his most melancholy, with tears pooling in his eyes, making them pinker than normal. A kiss beyond the games children play, a kiss to comfort an angry prince in the firelight’s glow, his tears coursing down his cheeks with each snip of her embroidery scissors that sent locks of moonlight hair to the ground.

He’d never touched her more than a handhold, and far less than she touched him in her casual affections.

“No. No complications,” she confirmed.

They reached the landing, and Abby ran her hand over the stone dragon curled up in eternal sleep at the top of the stairs. Her fingers scratched along the smooth curve of its head the way she’d done every morning when she visited her father. She felt her uncle’s gaze on her, and she drew her hand away, hurrying to follow him into his office with her cheeks burning beneath her freckles, relieved only just by his vaguely amused expression.

The room was darker than it had been before. Gone were the stacks of books with various slips of paper sticking out haphazardly, or Theraxis lounging lazily along the cool stone floor by the door with his fluffy tail, sending motes of dust into the air. She instinctively clutched her skirt on the right to pull them away, so used to a giant paw the size of her hand grabbing at the fluttering fabric. But Theraxis was not there. The crumbling tome about the Andal invasion was absent from where it once rested on the side table. Instead, Larys stood by the fire with his back to her, as did the Queen, her lovely green dress covering her from neck to wrist with a golden pattern woven in the fabric that caught the firelight. Her face pinched in the way it did when she was uncertain and trying not to pick at her nails.

Abby noticed, of course. It usually meant that someone was about to get yelled at or she would send them away with the other ladies.

The figure in the chair slouched so far down that his silver head nearly vanished behind the back of it. At the clearing of Lord Otto’s throat, Aegon jerked up. His whole body held so much tension that it made Abby’s own hurt just by looking at him. He peered over his shoulder at them with glossy, red-rimmed eyes that give him a strange, ethereal sort of gaze, skin pale enough to prominently display the flushed pink mottling of a strike against his right cheek. He looked stuffy and uncomfortable in his dark green doublet, his fingers absently tugging at the buttons and collar. As his gaze focused, his eyes widened and darted from the uncertainty she knew was on her own face to his grandfather behind her.

The thud as Otto shut the door reverberated through her, and she and Aegon both flinched at the sound. Out of the corner of her eye, Abby could see the Queen flinch as well. Larys, as always, looked unphased. The heavy hand on her back pushed her towards the empty chair closer to the fire, and she had no time to bob a curtsy; courtesies stuck like toffee in her mouth.

The chairs once held the delicately embroidered pillows her mother made. She would curl up with them and read aloud from the books scattered around while her papa worked. He would-

“Queen Alicent and Lord Larys have received several letters expressing interest in you, Abrogail,” Otto said, walking behind his desk. She dug her thumbnail into the pad of her middle finger, and she saw Aegon’s booted foot twitch on the flagstone – a rocking motion from the ball of his foot to his heel before slapping it back down beneath the desk. Wood crackled in the fireplace. “Lord Farman is looking for a wife for his eldest, and Faircastle would be close to your sister.”

He plucked a scroll from the basket as he spoke, and Abby felt her stomach churn with nerves as a red heat clawed along her throat. She did not venture a look at Aegon, save for the foot he kept rocking back, the heel he repeatedly ground into the floor. He’d not gone back to slouching. He could be indolent and rude when he wanted, but not even Aegon dared to in his grandfather’s presence. Abby didn’t understand what this was about, or why Aegon was here.

“Edmund Vance, the heir to House Vance, recently lost his wife. A good man, and part of the Riverlands although a small seat. Or, if you married Jesper Celtigar, the heir of Crackclaw, you’d be able to remain in King’s Landing.”

Otto Hightower produced scroll after scroll and Abrogail felt the flush of embarrassment in her cheeks, confusion keeping her words locked away. How was she supposed to react to all of this? What was he trying to say? Were all these marriage proposals meant to make her feel better about herself? No, that was too odd to contemplate.

Why was Aegon here?

“Lord Grover has also written of his interest in you for his grandson. A Paramount seat would let you be close to your home at Harrenhal, and he already has an heir. He would take good care of you, and your children would have every opportunity.” Another scroll plucked from the basket. “It would bring Harrenhal into their holdings. Is that not correct, Lord Larys?”

Right. Harrenhal.

A woman’s lot is to only be worth what she could bring to the table.

Her brother was a man of few words, and he inclined his head with a shadow of a smile flickering across his face. Abby looked at the queen to find that her face was pinching harder. In the interim, Queen Alicent stepped away from the fire and moved instead to the desk with the gentle swoosh of her skirts gliding across the stone. She cleared her throat, a smile fighting its way on her face.

“All the offers were wonderful for you, my sweet girl, but none seemed right.” The Queen reached out to tuck a copper curl behind her ear, and Abby could not tell if this was supposed to be comforting to her or if the Queen sought comfort in the action for herself. Her lungs felt constricted, and it finally dawned on her.

Oh.

The sole of Aegon’s boot continued to drag across the stone in both a nervous fidget and to keep himself from slouching down even further into the chair. The only reason she could hear it was because of how focused she’d been on it, but now blood rushed into her head and Abby broke eye contact with her cousin to look down in her lap.

“What does seem right is for you and Aegon to be married, after your nameday. You’ll be eight and ten, and the pair of you will go to live at Harrenhal, and make your home there.”

Oh.

“Are you fucking serious?” Aegon’s voice was a hoarse, disused rasp from a night with endless drink. When she looked at him again, she noticed that his hair was still damp, and that beads of water from the wet ends had soaked little spots into the collar of his shirt. He wasn’t looking at her, but up at his mother, and then, incredulously, across the desk at his grandfather.

Otto’s face remained impassive following his grandson’s outburst. Abby wanted to grab Aegon and drag him out of the way of whatever was about to come out of the Hand’s mouth, as if the words would physically harm him.

The silence lengthened. Another log popped in the fireplace.

“He speaks.” The amusement in Otto’s voice caused Aegon to draw back further into his chair before he finally turned to look at her. His eyes were so red-rimmed, and his sullen face was so terribly pale that the pink-lilac of his eyes stood out ethereally, inhumanly like the drawing of a fae folk from a book she had as a child - wild and cornered. He’d bitten his pouty, chapped lips bloody.

Aegon searched her face for an answer to a question that she did not know. The only thing Abrogail could do was give him the gentle, reassuring smile she’d given him countless times before. It was what she did in this world: comfort her loved ones in any way possible, even as she needed to bury her own feelings on the matter. Feelings that, in this particular case, she couldn’t even begin untangling in the moment.

“Well, that makes us luckier than most, doesn’t it?” Abby cleared her throat and turned the smile onto the others in the room. She reached up to grasp the Queen’s hand and gave her a reassuring squeeze before she burst into a million pieces. Whether it was her, or the Queen, that might burst, she could not say. “We are fortunate to know one another so well and to be of an age. I thank you Lord Hightower, your Grace.” She looked at Larys, who remained silent in his observations, as always – an owl in a tree, eyes taking in everything. “Thank you, brother, for looking out for me.”

She felt Aegon’s eyes continue to pin on her. She looked back at him.

The wild and anxious expression was still on his face, and instinct compelled her, as it often did, to reach out her hand to take his - but he surprised her by beating her to it. His skin felt like fire engulfing her frigid hand and his fingers tangled with hers with easy familiarity. Before she could register what was happening, Aegon’s chair was already scraping across the floor and he pulled her from her chair with the momentum of jumping from his own. There was no pause in his movement as he dragged her to the door.

“How very fortunate we are.” A laugh bubbled from Aegon’s chest. It was a joyless sound when he laughed in the presence of his mother and grandsire. It was edged with the familiar mania; Aegon laughed when he was afraid, when he was anxious, when he was trying not to scream as his world was coming apart, or the laughter and joy on the back of Sunfyre. He tilted his head to stare up at the ceiling before throwing a look over his shoulder at the three across the room. “How very lucky we are.”

Aegon’s hand was clammy around hers, his grip bordering on painful. He yanked the door open with a protesting whine of the latch. Abby heard the Queen calling after him, but Aegon’s strides were purposeful as they ate up the ground to get away. Only the grip of their hands kept her from being left behind in the claustrophobic room where their future was being decided for them.

It might have been the second bravest thing she’d ever witnessed from him.

[Chapter Two]

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x oc #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen fic #aegon ii targaryen fic #aegon x abby #fic: the maiden and the drowning boy #my fics

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liquorisce · 7 months ago

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Do you have any eremika age gap au recs?? It’s my favorite trope and there’s nearly not enough fics out there😭😭😭

*rubs hands* I took my time with this because I am not the most avid fic reader unfortunately, but I do have a few recs and some more on my tbr. I think what you're looking for is not just an age difference but where the age gap is the focus? i've marked those in pink. definitely check the tags on these before proceeding!!

gonna start with mine just for completeness, and also because i love it *blush*

boy next door: For sixteen years, Mikasa has watched the boy next door. First: through the eyes of a child, hand in his during family trips, his hand on her first bike when she learned how to ride. Then: through the eyes of a teenager, peeking behind her blinds into his room on hot summer months when he didn't wear a shirt, eyes lingering on his lips when he pulled away his cigarette. Now, she is so much older, but he is older still, and the gap between them feels ever widening. But her desire to close it only feels more desperate.

i'm certain you've checked out @herblacktights 's ao3, but here are my favs of hers with that age gap sauce:

degausser: After a deadly flu pandemic that devastates Paradis Island and the rest of the world, Eren is all Mikasa has. After she turns sixteen, that gets complicated. -> the plot is entirely the age gap, lol!

comfort me: “Mikasa,” Eren drawled, fake scolding edging into his voice as he held the basement door open and led her outside. “Does Aunt Carla know what a bad girl you are?” For a moment, she looked stunned. A sliver of a second, a wink of an eye. Looking every inch the little girl he watched grow up, who he knew deserved better than him. But before it could take root in her and make him regret what he said, Mikasa gave him a terrible, sweet smile. “Aunt Carla says I deserve to do whatever I want after the year I’ve had,” she said and from the way that she was looking at him, he should’ve known it was a threat. cw: mild daddy kink!

love dog : this one is a bit different! teacher mikasa x student eren, and mikasa is the older one. cw: it doesn't exactly have a super happy ending. but it is one of my favs from hannah!!

Butterfly effect by @sunlightandsuffering : Sugar baby AU - older hobo eren x younger mikasa. how can i say this... it's the OG, the most delicious, lys-brand chaotic eremika but age gap flavour! i love it, i'm sure if you've been around this block you've read it lol, but it's simply amazing, read it again!!

You, me and our sins by @loneghostss : Eren is married and Mikasa has a boyfriend. But the fact that they both have someone doesn't stop them from sinfully falling in love with each other. (it is about eremika having an affair with each other and it is so sensual and hot, age gap is not central here but it definitely brings heat!!) you could also check out lost saints by the same author, there's also some age difference and great smut.

@dead-dolphins is a connoisseur of the age gap trope, defs check out all the aus on her pinned post!! ro is a master of drama and worldbuilding so her fics are always a treat. she's got some on ao3 that are all about that sweet age gap <3

chemical hype boy : idol mikasa x actor eren!! and eren is definitely playing into the older established actor mold!

i apologise if you feel something: Goth mikasa gets involved with older Eren, lead vocalist of a metal band.

the promised princess: a medieval fantasy au inspired by got. age difference is not the central theme, but it's a stellar fic regardless.

straight/edge by @sinigangsta-ao3: Mikasa Ackerman is prim, proper, and perfect. As the golden child of the Ackerman family, her academic achievements set her up for a bright future and atone for her older brother’s past mistakes. When the spring semester of her junior year arrives, she crosses paths with a local boy toward whom she’d typically never give the time of day — and they begin a whirlwind relationship that unlocks parts of herself that she didn’t know she kept hidden. this fic is more about the good girl x bad boy trope but with that delicious 3-4 year age gap sauce!! cw: NOT a hea

devilish lovers by softwinter: “I wanna be your friend, Mikasa,” he told her one day when she got home from school not able to feign a less distressed expression on her face, too many sixteen-year-old problems going on in her life. He had the habit of commenting that she was always sad, that he didn’t like how that transpired on her gray eyes.

“I thought you wanted to be my daddy,” something flashed in his eyes right then, like she’d said something forbidden, a kind of thing that could make her a bad girl in his eyes. cw: step dad kink!! definitely check the tags before proceeding.

heaven knows by @joannaofarkham: priest au where priest eren is mikasa's teacher in a catholic school. it is unfinished but the first chapter reads pretty well standalone!

eternally yours by @cxcassii: reincarnation au + age gap. It's been 2,000 years since Eren Jaeger was a titan shifter and unleashed the blood drenched madness of the rumbling upon the world. Now, in the year 2023, he's a twenty-four year old who lives with his best friend Armin. He goes about his days working as a pharmacy technician all while attempting to cope and come to terms with the loss of the loved ones he still remembers with clarity from his previous life. The atrocious sins of his past life he can never ever truly atone for. But most of all, there's one person he simply can't forget: His former love of his life, Mikasa. It's when he's not actively searching for her that they cross paths once again, and their love will once again be on trial when Eren learns that Mikasa not only doesn't remember their past life together, but is also seventeen years old. this one is still on my tbr but whatever i've read so far looks extremely delicious!!!

enjoy!! if anyone wants to add more please feel free to reblog and improve this list!! <3

#eremika #fanfic rec #age gap trope

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snarryauctoberfest · 1 month ago

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AUctoberfest: Day 14

Title: First Impressions

Creator: ???

Pairing: Harry Potter/Severus Snape

Prompt: 2024-216: Trope reversal: Snape was forced into multiple arranged marriages by his grandparents. The spouses kept dying. Very mysterious. But Harry isn't worried when he winds up the latest candidate.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 24.6k

Warnings/Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Forced Marriage, MysteryHouse Elves, Animagus Harry Potter, Healer Harry Potter, POC Harry Potter, Indian Harry Potter, Potioneer Severus Snape, Trans Female Character, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Facials, Severus Snape Has a Large Cock, Size Queen Harry Potter, Dirty Talk, Public Sex, Glove Kink, they're just so horny for each other, Warning: Margaret Thatcher (UK Politician), i love that that's a tag, brief mention of cruelty to creatures, Very brief mention of domestic violence, little bits of angst but it's mostly fluffy

Summary: When Harry is forced to marry a complete stranger, he tries to make the best of things. After all, he's a Healer, he can take care of himself. And his new husband seems nice enough… But why, exactly, has Severus already been married three times before? And why have all three of those previous spouses died unexpectedly? Is Harry next? Or will he fall in love with his new husband after all?

💚❤�� Read on AO3 💚❤️

2024 Snarry AUctoberfest Entries || HOS Tumblr || Discord

#2024 snarry auctoberfest entries #2024 snarry auctoberfest #snarry #pro snape #snarry fanfic #house of snarry #Harry x Severus #Severus x Harry

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wannab-urs · 1 year ago

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Outtakes - Non-smut Vol 1

AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist | Vol 2

Hi friends! Sometimes we want fics that are SFW or we just want to make ourselves sad or we need a little pick me up. I'm here with a list of fics that have no (explicit) smut as of posting! They may have smutty thoughts or mild allusions to smut, but those are marked in the warnings!

I know, me, posting non-smut fics.... but they deserve love too! Note that while many of these are rated T, they are posted on blogs that are 18+ so MDNI <3

Summaries and tags are, in most cases, provided by the author - please be sure to read them as some of these fics may have content you do not wish to read.

Updated 5/24/2024

Whiskey, Dark and Deep - Jack - @prolix-yuy

Summary: In the short time you’ve known Jack Daniels, he’s disappointed you three times. Warnings: M, violence, blood, injuries, gunfights, so so so much yearning, full on cowboy tropes.

A bearable weight - Javi G - prolix-yuy

Summary: New Years Eve is the holiday of new beginnings, and you take a leap to see if Javi might be one of them. Story Warnings: T, plenty of sweetness, more ridiculousness because I can’t help myself, some lightly spicy kisses.

One Hundred and Fifty Seven - Din - @theidiotwhowritesthings

Summary: Din fakes his death for some reason. They leave reader behind thinking he’s dead. Months go by and he returns but reader is like super not okay. Say she’s been super into spice because then she can see Din when she’s high. Anyway, happy ending but loooots of angst please! Also, can it be a bit between him returning and reader being okay with him being back?” Warnings: angst with happy end, drug use, drug addiction, mentions of death, brief canon violence, self loathing, anxiety, self doubt, boba adopts reader b/c i couldn’t resist

In an instant - Joel - @mishasminion360

Summary: Happy Birthday, Joel Miller... Warnings: Um…..😳🙄 (ed. note: I hate to spoil the story, but since this list is intented to help people avoid triggers, I must; Major Character Death (reader), angst, loss of pregnancy)

It would be - Din - @fuckyeahdindjarin

Summary (aka prompt I gave myself): ‘It would be easier if you just married him.’ Warnings: angst, jealousy, fighting, pining, yearning, no use of Y/N

Just Keep Breathing - Javi P - @swiftispunk

Summary: javi finds it harder and harder to keep up with the more physical aspects of his job. reader offers him some love and words of comfort. warnings etc: BODY REPRESENTATION <3 (reader is described as having thicker thighs, a belly, and crow’s feet), smoking + smoking related health issues, hurt/comfort, back massages, fluff, angst, bein in ur 30s/40s, established relationship. probably bad spanish (please correct me). NO USE OF Y/N.

Every Pilot Needs a Wingman - Frankie - @kikis-writing-world

Summary: You have been pining quietly over your neighbor for months. He hasn’t noticed, but apparently his friend has… Warnings: Smutty thoughts - grey sweatpants should be their own warning. Fleeting mentions of masturbation and sex toys. Swearing. Santi gives the reader tips on how to impress/pick up Frankie, I don’t know if that might come off as shady or triggering to people so I want to mention that.

A girl walks into a bookshop - Ezra - @oonajaeadira

Summary: Set a couple of years after the events of the film. Ezra owns a bookshop. You walk in. Warnings: The coziest, softest romance. They do work up to intimacy, but it is sequestered in it’s own chapter–the “Interlude”–which can be skipped without losing any of the story.

Breathe Through It - Joel - @tommysversion

Summary: you have a panic attack. Joel helps. Warnings: Descriptions of mental health conditions (namely PTSD, but can be read as any anxiety based disorder with panic attacks) / graphic description of a panic attack / some adult language/ references to past trauma (nothing explicitly described but inferred).

A kiss before dying and in death we combine - Joel - oonajaeadira

Summary: When Joel becomes infected, you make the decision not to leave him alone. Warnings: Blood and wounds. Bodily character death. Loss. Love that hurts. Sex of course, but blurred to the edges. Playing fast and loose with the cordyceps and how fast it grows.

102 - Frankie - @tieronecrush

summary: every week, you and frankie meet up at the same spot at the same time to catch-up and share a coffee. you’ve been his best friend for years. through thick and thin, always there. thing is, frankie’s been in love with you for nearly as long as he’s known you and hasn’t worked up the courage to tell you. warnings: no use of Y/N, post-film timeline, au where frankie doesn’t have a kid, use of pet names (solecita, mi mejor), high school level spanish (mostly swear words), unrequited love, self deprecation, alcohol use/drunkenness, smoking

Safe in my arms - Ezra - mishasminion360

Summary: Ezra harbors a secret hatred for his absent arm, but his feelings come to a head when his newly acquired handicap fails to do the one task he vowed never to fail in: keep you safe from harm. Warnings: Language; light angst; feelings of insecurity; body dysmorphia; brief allusions to smut; hurt/comfort; fluff.

Leave Off Your Wandering - Joel - oonajaeadira

Summary: An area native, long-term resident and shepherd in Jackson, you prefer quiet and isolation and the company of sheep. It seems this new resident Joel Miller and his young ward might share your interests. Warnings: M (possible canon violence and language. most likely non-explicit sex further down the line.) (ed. note; no smut as of chapter 2)

Peace - Joel - swiftispunk

summary: jackson era, post-tlou. you and joel discuss what it means to die. warnings: angst and fluff, discussions of death and dying, discussions of sex but nothing too explicit, age difference implied but not specified (joel is older than you but the number of years is not relevant), established relationship. NO USE OF Y/N.

This is me trying - Joel/Ellie platonic!! - swiftispunk

summary: jackson. a flashback on a film reel sparks a memory. joel tells ellie how it feels. warnings: angst, discussions of child loss, discussions of grief and death, ig fluff

Epiphany - Joel - @jksprincess10

Summary: Your new neighbor is a war veteran with a lot of scars. (1k words) Warnings: AU where Joel is in the military, age gap, PTSD, anxiety, insomnia, allusions to smut, suicidal thoughts, sad ending. Beware!!

Significant - Din - softlyspector

Summary: Din has been calling you riduur for months. You finally find out what it means, and get a little more than you bargained for. Warnings: pining, absolute FOOLS in love, bit of grumpy x sunshine, lil angsty, possibly incorrect lore, fluff, lots of Mando'a (translations for the Mando'a at the end

A pile of cards - Javi P - @undercoverpena

summary: it’s become a tradition. he presents you with a birthday card so you can collect his words, while he collects the expressions you share as you read them. warnings: javi through the seasons, narcos season two/three spoilers. cute, fluff. happy ending.

Fire - Din - jksprincess10

Summary: None Warnings: fluff fluff fluff, mutual pining, idiots in love, this is pretty short, mando still has the crest, canon divergent.

Honeyed - Joel - softlyspector

Summary: You hate being touched, but you might be willing to put aside your discomfort for a tattoo from Joel. Warnings: slow build, no outbreak tattoo!au, reader has issues with touch and is mostly touch adverse, tattoos and getting tattooed (the reader only has one tattoo that is described in any detail), description of a past abusive relationship and a bad experience getting tattooed, insecurity, anxiety, loneliness, implied undefined past trauma with men, Joel gets to have both his daughters in this, you can decide if this is game joel or show joel

The Art of Healing - Marcus Pike - @northernbluess

Summary: Marcus Pike was feeling lost—unfulfilled and unmoored. After a failed marriage, heartbreak courtesy of his ex-fiancée and relocating to D.C., Marcus knew that he needed more than the FBI. Seven years later, Marcus has traded in Special Agent for Doctor and is now a clinical psychologist specialising in art therapy. He combines his two loves of art and psychology, spurred on by his experience in art crimes, FBI psych courses and his own time in therapy. Josephine is referred to Dr Pike, having just been discharged from treatment for an eating disorder. While Dr Pike is fresh to his new career, he is knowledgeable, warm, kind and attentive. Over time, as she bares her soul to him, he falls for her and the bond between them ties both their heads in knots. As her therapist he knows it’s wrong but he begins to feel incapable of separating his feelings from his work. Before long neither can truly live without the other — if only she knew that. Warnings: (warnings will be specified in each individual chapter, however, please read these carefully) Art Therapist!Marcus Pike, eating disorder, therapy, mentions of disordered eating patterns, hurt/comfort, slow burn, lots of pining and tension, angst, age gap, strained familial relationships, so much softness and feelings, eventual smut (ed. note: no smut as of chapter 5 and worth the read up to that point)

The Man That I Love - Joel - @lumoverheaven

Summary: None (ed. note: Joel is an idiot who doesn't know what he has until he almost loses it). Warnings: None (ed. note: angst)

Not Strong Enough - Joel - @beskarandblasters

Summary: Fem!Reader and Joel are in an established relationship, having met shortly after the events in Kansas City. They’re living in Jackson, Wyoming together, post Salt Lake City with Ellie. Things are going well until an incident happens during patrol and Joel questions whether or not he’s good enough. Written in third person. Warnings: angst, feeling inadequate, canon types of violence, swearing, bar fight, Joel is an asshole :/

Do You Love Me - Dieter - me

Summary: here is a fluffy (by my standards) little drabble in the A Ghost of You universe. Can be read standalone Warnings: There's just some kissing and no mentions of anything bad because I'd never do anything bad to D, would I?

Thunder Buddies - Joel - me

Summary: Joel comforting reader who is scared of thunderstorms Warnings: descriptions of a panic attack, Joel being adorable, cuddling, cuteness, a distinct lack of angst or smut - which is really weird coming from me.

Wash Day - Marcus P - @secretelephanttattoo

Summary: Some completely self-indulgent romantic fluff about Marcus Pike washing your hair. Warnings: none

Personal Best - Marcus P - secretelephanttattoo

Summary: This picture of Pedro holding a dog inspired me to write a fluffy meet-cute for Marcus Pike & Reader. I'm feeling 90s romantic comedy vibes, I don't know if I'll write anything more on this but we'll see if people like it. Warnings: none

Context and Perspective - Marcus M - @elvenmother

Summary: The newest member of the Heroics has gone missing and as one of the better-known Villains on the scene, you are blamed. Then your sidekick goes missing. You must go after the Heroic’s leader to try to get them back and clear your name. Warnings: Swearing, mentions of injuries, mentions of blood

A Very Furby Christmas - Joel - @proxima-writes

Summary: it’s christmas eve 1998 and joel miller thinks everything is perfect. well, until his brother admits he didn’t get sarah the one present she wanted - the furby. now, joel has to go out on christmas eve to find the year’s hottest toy that’s been sold out for months. turns out, you’re on the same mission. and you’ve both found the last furby in town. Warnings: pre-outbreak, no use of y/n, holiday/christmas fic, the last toy trope, no smut, age gap - not explicitly specified but joel is 31 and reader is mid-20s, the great miller gingerbread construction competition, operation get sarah miller a furby, some kissing.

The Haunting of Dieter Bravo - Dieter - @idolatrybarbie Summary: "ghosts aren't real, except when they are." Warnings: referenced substance abuse, mentions of alcohol, dieter is sober, one song-based joke (please get it plsplspls), reader is gender neutral, a good ol' haunting tale.

The Locksmith - The Thief - oonajaeadira

Summary: A Thief you’ve known for years and have conflicting feelings for brings you a gift. The gift is a not only a puzzle in itself, but part of a larger mystery, one only you can crack. Warnings: reader is an adult, reader is AFAB, no physical descriptions of reader

A Piece of Cake - Frankie - idolatrybarbie

Summary: It's been a long time since you've seen Frankie Morales. Warnings: Angst, discussion of addiction, mentions of cocaine, alcohol consumption, bowling

The Parents That Are Left - Joel - @frenchiereading

Summary: There weren't many patrol partners Joel Miller tolerated: his brother and Iris. On a cold January day, Joel pays her mother a visit and finds out you can bond over anything. Unfortunately. Warnings: canon-typical violence and language, heavy angst, talks/mentions/descriptions of death and dead bodies, heavy discussions/thoughts of feelings/grief/guilt, suicidal thoughts, alcohol consumption, Jackson-era Joel, no reader, no y/n, OFC, not a single ounce of romance

For the Love of Horror - Dieter - @coulsons-fullmetal-cellist

Summary: Dieter and you watch a scary movie. Warnings: No use of y/n, horror movies, euphemisms, fluff, suggestive language

Stages of Grief - Joel - @bonezone44

Summary: After a tense interaction with a family member who raised you when you were little, you spiral. Joel talks you through it. Warnings: Gender neutral reader, familial trauma, angst, grief, neglect, trauma, childhood emotional/physical abuse

The Riding Lesson - Jack - @bluestar22x

Summary: When you are hired at a ranch as a trail guide, the owner asks the foreman to teach you how to ride Western style. Warnings: Suggestive thoughts, sexual tension, equestrian terms

Frankie and Din - Frankie/Din - @avastrasposts

Summary: a one-shot with our favourite pilot, sweet Frankie and our favourite space boy, broody Din based on the line; "Go on then, space boy, fly this.” Warnings: none

Light Only Shows You Where the Shadow Are - Max Phillips - oonajaeadira

Summary: The only thing that can get rid of a minor jerk is a major jerk. Warnings: Non-consensual attention (not Max), stalker behavior (when there’s trouble, Max always seems to be watching from nearby), vampire violence.

It's always been you - Dieter - @alwaysmicado

Summary: After a year of dating Dieter Bravo, you are forced to face reality. All good things must come to an end, right? Warnings: angst, age gap (unspecified), swearing, brief mention of p in v sex, brief mention of disordered eating and suicide, mention of black eye, toxic relationship, drug use, reader's coping mechanisms are unhealthy

John Wayne - Joel - @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

Summary: twenty years after the world ended, you find yourself face to face with Tommy Miller. The brother of the man who was your boyfriend at the time of the outbreak. Warnings: talk of attempted suicide, child loss, grief, angst

illicit affairs - Joel @chaotic-mystery

Summary: it’s my take on what illicit affairs means. Every time I listened to it I imagined Joel, specifically dbf Joel. I hope the swifties go *easy* on me and pls don’t say anything if you didn’t like it. Warnings: angst. And more angst. Swearing, forbidden relationship, arguing, fwb, alluded age gap but not specified. Use of nicknames (kid, baby……don’t look at me ok I didn’t do IT), reader is not physically described, no use of y/n.

Stay Close to Me - Jack - @alwaysbethewest

Summary: You're a rookie agent sent to work undercover with Jack as a married couple!Fake/undercover marriage! Statesman casefic! Warnings: A little romance, kissing, coarse language, very mild peril and hurt/comfort, and a splash of alcohol. Reader is a junior agent and has some muscle but otherwise no physical/age descriptions. As with any good Kingsman fic, my first step was to disregard half of canon, so this is either pre-movie or an AU.

To Know the Light - Din - @burntheedges

Summary: to go in the dark with a light is to know the light. Warnings: fluff, a teensy bit of angst, introspection, winter, food mention, reader has no description, gn!reader

O, Christmas Tree - Dieter - @covetyou

Summary: As PA to Dieter Bravo, you were used to the strange, unusual and downright weird. What you weren't used to was taking in a shipment of - what? And how many? Warnings: sex toys (so many butt plugs), Dieter being a menace to his PA, no smut, pure silliness.

In Fiction - Dieter - @sin-djarin

Summary: Dieter comes to bed. Warnings: Established relationship, mentions of self doubt, no physical description of reader, no dialogue, no use of y/n.

The Serpent Under It - Dave York - @brandyllyn

Summary: Dave is very good at his job Warnings: Canon typical violence. kinda dark yo, soulmate AU

I'll Leave a Light On For You - Max Phillips - oonajaeadira

Summary: Max has reservations when it comes to love, and for very good reasons. Warnings: Angst. Character death. Allusions to the atrocities of war and its lasting effects. Max is a vampire. Traumatic soul memory. Me assuming I know anything about French culture of the 1930s.

Cocoon - Joel - secretelephanttattoo

Summary: A short ode to Joel's coat. / a bath with Joel Warnings: Angst and intimacy. 1 reference to blood and allusion to canon typical violence (nothing is described)

Home - Frankie - @dancingtotuyo

Summary: Frankie always comes home to you. Warnings: fluff, angst, girl dad!frankie, recovering!Frankie, references to drug use, references to violence, trauma, healing.

Negotiations - Max Phillips - prolix-yuy

Summary: Max Phillips never found marketing to be all that helpful. Hell, running an ad on Facebook was easy enough. But then you walked in the door and he knew he had to have you, in all the ways he could. Warnings: T, descriptions of male and female bodies, some fantasizing and suggestive themes.

sweets for my sweet; sweets from my sweet - Ezra - @tinytinymenace

Summary: you are a cook at an exploration camp and one of the miners asks you about Earth and brings you a treat Warnings: Brief mentions of planet death (RIP Earth) and strained family dynamics but on balance this is soft.

Caught Kissing Santa - Dave York - @wildemaven

Summary: Alice saw you kissing Santa Claus Warnings: reader is married to Dave and stepmom to his kids, mentions of food and drinks, non-religious Christmas celebrations and Santa beliefs, alluding to sexy time but no smut, kissing, mentions reader is wearing pajama pants, fluff, soft Dave, one use of ‘good girl’.

Unwind - Dieter - @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

Summary: Dieter helps you unwind when you get your period after an already long day. Warnings: established relationship, reader menstruates, drug use (marijuana), reference to past drug use, reference to bad horror movies, Dieter being our favorite trash panda, sweet, fluff, domesticity

One Night - Marcus P - secretelephantattoo

Summary: You get one night with Marcus Pike. Warnings: Implied/referenced smut but nothing is explicitly described. Smoking and alcohol. Angst because they only have one night together. Marcus is a flirty menace. House party nostalgia. Heavy petting in a stairwell

Lovesick - Joel - prolix-yuy

Summary: You've been greedy for Joel for too long. Warnings: descriptions of wound care and blood, allusions to dubcon due to drinking and drug use, no actual smut

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

Happy Reading!

#fic recs #the spreadsheet digest #fanfiction recommendations #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro fics #pedro pascal character fanfiction #The spreadsheet Digest Outtakes

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parafic · 2 months ago

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WIPs

If the title is in parentheses it's temporary and will hopefully be replaced when I come up with one I like.

Link to AO3: Para

(What Happens on Typhoon Island) - tag: typhoon island

A team of bloodline thieves manage to steal a pair of children from the Uchiha compound. Izuna and Hikaku take the mission of pursuing them, which takes them all the way to the islands beyond Water Country. At which point things get worse, forcing them to team up with Tobirama, who is there to rescue children that were similarly stolen from the Uzumaki. By the time they've rescued the children, hurricane season has arrived, and none of them have any way off the island until the season ends. From there it's forced bonding and pining, while babysitting a dozen or so kids from various clans. (Nothing posted yet.) (Idea from chat with @domoz)

(Roots Grow Up sequel/continuation) - tag: roots grow up

Sequel/continuing Roots Grow Up. Kawarama was presumed dead as in canon, but actually he had amnesia, and was living as an ordinary farmer. Now that he's been found he has to deal with Shinobi Stuff, despite absolutely not wanting to get tangled up that sort of danger. (Roots Grow Up/first chapter posted on AO3.) (idea from conversation with @domoz, who has written another AU based on the same premise: Chapter 21 and May the Gods Bless This Meal.)

(ELAU) - tag: ELAU

An AU where all the Senju and Uchiha brothers survived, but only four of the Uchiha brothers are ever seen. Itama sets out to kidnap the secret Uchiha brother so he can be used as a hostage in pursuit of peace. He succeeds, more or less. But peace means the two families become an increasingly complicated part of each others' lives. (Nothing posted yet.) (AU and the brothers developed and coowned with @denialcity)

the etymology of utopia - tag: the etymology of utopia

Madara won, and trapped everyone in eternal tsukuyomi, dreaming of bliss, including himself. Four years later, he becomes aware that something about the jutsu has changed, and drags Tobirama out of eternal tsukuyomi to help him figure it out. Neither of them is happy about it. (One chapter posted on AO3.)

all's fair at the intersection - tag: all's fair at the intersection

Butsuma is dying, Hashirama is on a mission, and Tobirama has just figured out how to summon the dead. He, uh, copes. "Well". (Nothing posted yet, I'm determined to make it a oneshot.)

to accept the will of heaven - tag: BSAU

A deep worldbuilding exploration of the blessed red eyes trope, centered on Izuna. (11 chapters posted on AO3. Also a prequel.) (cowritten with @denialcity)

Second Breath - tag: second breath

In addition to the sharingan, the Uchiha have a second set of powers, derived from the standard vampire abilities, of which every Uchiha gets one. Izuna dies. Then he comes back. (First two chapters out of hopefully three posted on AO3.)

(fantastic communication, guys) - tag: fantastic communication

The peace treaty will be stronger with a marriage, but the last thing Tobirama wants is to marry an Uchiha, so he insists on a marriage hunt. The Uchiha have strict rules on who can marry someone outside of the clan, so as the most powerful eligible alpha, Hikaku is assigned to try to catch and marry Tobirama. He comes close, and lets him go. This makes Tobirama curious. (Nothing posted yet.)

(Kagami demands rescuing) - tag: Kagami demands rescuing

Sometimes, Kagami's solutions to problems are somewhat unorthodox. Tobirama (and the Senju team he's leading) rescues Kagami (and the Uchiha team he's on), but it certainly wasn't his idea. (Nothing posted yet.)

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werepuppy-steve · 8 months ago

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march fic rec

a monthly fic rec series to help me work through my tbr

this month i kind of shifted all of my attention on gathering all of my tbr fics and getting them more organized, so i kind of slacked on reading. but yall get a little treat, bc this one is mostly smut 👀

<- february -> april ▸ more fic recs ▸ my ao3

Ecstatic Rituals - E, series, WIP StarsHideYourFires

tags: ancient rome au, omegaverse, ritual sex, alpha eddie, omega steve, orgy, bitching, induced heat, breeding kink

A set of AUs with one thing in common: ritual sex.

just the tip - E, 4.4k, complete twelvexclara

tags: transmasc steve, established relationship, frotting, first time bottoming

The words spill from his mouth before he even realizes he’s saying them. “You can rub against it,” he blurts out. He sucks in a breath, arms tightening around Eddie as the man stiffens against him. “I mean—you can rub against me, not it,” Steve stutters nervously, averting eye contact. Staring at the dumb fucking movie that’s still playing. Steve Harrington has never let anyone fuck him. That all changes during a movie night with Eddie Munson.

Everything and More - G, complete @steviewashere

tags: domestic fluff, 90s steddie, backyard wedding, steddielovemonth

Eddie drags his hand up to Steve’s scalp, dully scratching the way he knows he likes. “Okay, I’ll indulge,” he mutters. “If we could have a wedding, what would you want it to look like?” The smile to his bare shoulder is enough to know that it was a good question.

love is stored in a can of hairspray - T, 3.1k, complete @steveseddie | mseg_21

tags: pining, first kiss, getting together

In that moment, he wasn’t thinking about the money or how it might look to Steve that he knew what hair products he uses or that he drove to another town to get them. He was only thinking about Steve’s defeated look every time someone stared at his hair or commented on it, how he self-consciously tried to fix it at work every time a customer came in, how when they hung out at his house he would hide his hair under the hood of a sweater. But now, parked in front of Steve’s house an hour before their movie night, Eddie does think about what he did- and he seriously considers leaving the bag on Steve’s doorstep and fleeing. It’s too much. It’s too ‘I have a big crush on you and I want you to be happy so bad that I drove to another town and raided the Hair and Beauty section at a store just so you can stop walking around looking like a kicked puppy’. for the prompt “love is going out of your way to do something you know will make them happy”

sweet little thing - E, 6/6, complete @ghosttotheparty

tags: modern au, college au, frat steve, friends with benefits, gay steve, southern eddie, autistic steve, light angst

“Steve,” Eddie repeats softly. Steve’s eyes look into his, shining like he’s already there, like he’s already floating. “If you want something, you gotta ask for it.” Steve’s eyes flutter, and he looks like he wants to let out a whine, glancing across Eddie’s face again like he’s forgotten where they are. “Fuck me,” he says weakly, and the words crawl under Eddie’s skin like they belong there. “Please. Will you please fuck me?” // or; Steve and Eddie start hooking up and it makes them both happier than it should.

Found God In A Tomato - M, 5.7k, complete @beetlesandstarss

tags: modern au, wrong number trope, falling in love

“You’re gonna think I’m insane," he says, instantly piquing Eddie's interest. “Try me.” Biting his lip, Steve reaches over and takes Eddie’s hand. He slips one of Eddie’s rings off, the plainest one, and holds it between two fingers. For a second, Eddie thinks Steve’s just gonna— put it on. Or hold his hand. Both options are appealing. But then, clearing his throat, his face changes from smug to earnest. “Eddie,” he says, a little louder than necessary. “Will you marry me?” Eddie’s jaw drops.

unexpected shelter (December 20, 1985, 4:52 p.m.) - T, 3.3k, complete @loveinhawkins

tags: eddie pov, character study, platonic stobin, missing scene

It’s the last day of school before Christmas, and the first thing Eddie hears when he enters Family Video is Steve Harrington saying, “Fuck this,” which seems kinda unreasonable; he’s not even done anything yet.

Lovesick - T, 3.1k, complete @lady-lostmind

tags: sick eddie, fluff, hurt/comfort

Eddie rolls over with a groan. He feels awful. He can’t breath out of his nose, there’s so much pressure in his head he feels like it might explode and his throat feels like he swallowed a cup of razors. He lets out a truly pathetic whimper, the sound catching in his throat as it turns into a cough. He stretches his arm out, feeling around for Steve and is met with cold, empty sheets. He whines again and finally pries his eyes open. “Stevie?”

(Just Hold me Baby) And I'm in Ecstasy - E, 2.7k, complete odderstuff

tags: dom bottom eddie, sub top steve, praise kink, breeding kink, mommy kink, friends with benefits

Eddie looks Steve up and down thoughtfully. He's flushed, cheeks turned a pretty shade of pinkish red. His eyes are a little glossy, sparklier than usual and a thin sheen of sweat is forming across his hairline. His breathing has changed, just a bit; a little shallower, a little quicker, a little hitched. He's none too subtly shifted, so that the blanket is fully covering his lap. It's a lightbulb moment for Eddie, and he grins wide when he realizes. "Oh my God. This is like a thing for you, isn't it?" _ Or: discovering one of Steve's kinks leads Eddie to some discoveries of his own.

a new kind of pretty - E, 3.5k, complete

streaksofviolet streaksofviolet

tags: established relationship, praise kink, pet names, steve in panties, top eddie, bottom steve

“They still had the tags on. And I couldn’t stop thinking about how fucking sexy you’d look in them, baby.” He punctuates the end of his sentence with a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “Oh,” Steve practically gasps, the sound punched out of him involuntarily. “Oh.” And there’s that confusing arousal again. Or: Steve and Eddie try something new.

Is That A Tent In Your Pants, Or Are You Just Happy To See Me? - E, 10.9k, complete @beetlesandstarss

tags: enemies to lovers, gay steve, forced proximity, resolved sexual tension, tent sex

Eddie eyeballs him. “You want me to get naked?” “You'll get pneumonia,” Steve says, leaning towards desperate. Fuck, Robin will actually kill him if Eddie dies out here. “I’m fine.” “This is not fine, Eddie,” Steve insists. “You’ll see my dick,” Eddie hisses. “I’m not gonna look at your stupid dick, man.” “My stupid dick? Why is it stupid?” (Or, Steve and Eddie are coerced into going camping together.)

Daisies - T, 2.8k, complete @withacapitalp | towardthesun

tags: hanahaki disease, established relationship, misunderstandings, hurt/comfort

He hacked out a few more harsh sounding noises, before he spat into his open palm, taking a relieved breath as whatever was lodged in his throat came out. Eddie would’ve been relieved too, confused, but okay now that Steve was safe. And then he saw what was in Steve’s hand. A daisy. Steve had just coughed up a fucking daisy. And, judging by the completely blasé expression he had on his face as he looked down at it, this wasn’t the first time. ====== When Steve wakes up choking on flowers, Eddie thinks that it might be the end. It turns out to be just the beginning.

I've Got a Tongue Like a Razor, a Sweet Switchblade Knife - E, 2.7k, complete BuwnyBeely

tags: cockwarming, dom eddie, sub steve, dry humping, babygirl steve

Steve Harrington likes long sessions, and likes to be /used/. He'll take anything he can get. or "No, no please. Don't stop Eds, need more. Need to be full."

Bloody Knuckles - M, 4.5k, complete sage_is_soup

tags: blood kink, dry humping, bratting, praise kink, spit kink, eddie gets into a fist fight (and wins)

A phone call from Dustin leaves Steve racing to Hawkins High. Eddie Munson is in a fist fight. He'd intended to be there as support, but when things get bloody? Steve finds his thoughts leading him astray.

Strip... Flash Cards? Yeah... - E, 4.8k, complete L0udmouth

tags: sexual tension, voice kink, dry humping, stripping, teasing, top eddie, bottom steve, virgin eddie munson

Eddie's bad at studying, Steve's a horny idiot, and horny studying antics ensue.

chronically sweet - E, 3.2k, complete babyknives

tags: drug use, voyeurism, belly bulge, chrissy cunningham is a size queen

Chrissy had thought she’d known what love was. Had grown up watching her parents exchange pleasantries across the dinner table, in the entryway when her father would leave for work. A chaste kiss on the cheek, a gentle hand at the small of her mother’s back. Quiet respect, dignity, poise. Love was something shown only in small glimpses, tiny moments. Never in public. Between a couple and the good Lord. Until she met the boys.

rocket queen - E, 5.8k, complete @strangersatellites

tags: guns n' roses au, exhibitionism, top eddie, bottom steve, rockstar eddie

Steve breaks up with his shitbag drummer not-boyfriend and fucks his frontman in the studio with the mics on.

Off the Court On the Stage - E, 7.2k, complete @stevesjockstrap

tags: basketball player steve, rockstar eddie, modern au, bottom steve, top eddie, pet names, praise kink

Basketball player Steve walks into the wrong room but it works out in the end.

Idiot - G, complete @stevebabey

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort

His eyes glance across to Eddie’s van, parked beside his own car, outside the trailer home in Forest Hills. Then he looks back at the trailer. He can ask. He can just go inside and ask Eddie for the lift— and explain that the reason he can’t take his own perfectly fine car is because he’s so goddamn thick between the ears that he’s locked his keys inside, like some kind of moron. The voice in his head sounds suspiciously like his father.

Eternal zero - T, 3.6k, complete @loveinhawkins

tags: canon compliant, pre-relationship, s4 missing scene, survivor's guilt

“Woah, man, take it easy—” “M’fine,” Eddie mutters. He scoffs harshly, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s shaking. “This is kinda normal for me now.” His head’s still half bowed, hair falling across his face like he doesn’t want to be seen. It doesn’t stop Steve from noticing the evidence of tears on his face; he thinks they’re simply from the exertion of throwing up, but he can’t be sure. “Just—just give yourself a minute,” Steve says. “We’ve got time.”

#cj talks #fic rec #steddie fic rec #march fic rec #steddie #steve x eddie

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mikkaeus · 1 year ago

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house md fic recs — short fics (<10k). hilson + rarepairs

Other house rec lists: long fics | episode tags | postcanon | infidelity trope (all of these are mutually exclusive apart from the infidelity one)

highly recommend not skipping out on the non-hilson fics!! scroll to the end for a list of some really great ones. No huddy though because I'm not the biggest fan.

house/wilson and gen fic

I decided to just lump the gen fic together with the slash because really most of them can be read as slash with a G rating. Before we get into the fics, here are some notable authors that have written several house fics. Not all their fics are going to be listed individually, but if I have the author there I've read all or a lot of their stuff and enjoyed it, so I recommend going through their backlog.

otter: Some really excellent prose and great atmosphere. A little soft, a little pensive. And they nail the characterisation and dialogue.

ignaz: im sure everyone has read ignaz's longfic (a modest proposal and its sequel — the one where house and wilson get married so wilson cant testify against house in the tritter arc) but absolutely check out all their other stuff — it's all quality.

bironic: I really enjoy the bit of edge in bironic's fics. It makes them so yummy.

bethfrish: What stands out about their fics is how they peer into all the pointy edges of Wilson and Julie's relationship, thus making them excellent and unique Wilson character studies. Great prose and dialogue that rivals the show's.

Transformatron: fics that are transcendent and porny, all featuring a d/s undertone or theme (wilson as the dom)

astolat: if u dont know astolat idk what to say to u. just go read their fics.

blackmare (livejournal / ao3 pseud 1 / ao3 pseud 2 / lj pseud third_owl for slash fics i think) Does really great short fics (mostly gen) that slot into episodes. Like meta but in fic form. All of them are worth a read. Some of their fics are on ao3 but a lot aren't (like nearly all the episodic ones).

Namaste (livejournal / ff.net): Some short fics, some much longer ones. Mostly gen focussing on H&W friendship, with some fics on canon pairings. Interesting character studies and exceptionally discerning prose that is a pleasure to read.

In order of length. *faves, ***underrated faves

***Touch by zulu (<1k) (2007) The number of ways House could embarrass him with touches, Wilson thinks, is practically endless.

Silent Sigh by thedeadparrot (<1k) (2009) Wilson, autumn, melancholy, and House. Second person.

Heartbeats by thedeadparrot (<1k) (2009) Three moments in which House and Wilson are almost kind of functional.

No Pain by bironic (<1k) (2008) House finds a permanent solution to his pain problem and convinces Wilson to give him what he needs. Vampire fic! Frottage! hell yeah.

Also check out the sequel: No Mercy by daasgrrl (3k)

***The Game of Wilson: Six Cards in a Five Card Game by paradisecity (1k) (2006) If you're going to play a game like moving in together, decide upon three things at the start: the rules of the game, the stakes, and the quitting time. Fun and snappy. Great dialogue.

*we're getting good at this by ad astra dean (1k) Wilson had a migraine. Established relationship. Soft and sweet and realistic esp after 8.19. fuck. Premium hurt/comfort.

**********three more stories by besselfcn (1k) The first time it happens is (New Orleans, 1991 | Albany, 2009 | Augusta, 2012) and they are (drunk | sober | out of time). This fic emotionally obliterated me. I’m obsessed with the format like it’s prose halfway to poetry, so creative and unique and well-executed??? I cried so much. I am UNWELL and immeasurably fucked up about them put me in my grave. (Yeah I said these lists were mutually exclusive but this fic is the exception bc idc)

The Awakening of Wils-Ankh-Amun, Royal Concubine by blackmare, Nightdog_barks, pwcorgigirl (1k) It was a rather unusual 'morning after.' This is hilarious. Reads like a classic prank episode. They're so dumb together I love them.

The One Where House Has Always Been a Woman by thedeadparrot (1k) (2009) Despite the hospital gossip, House is not, in fact, a man-hating lesbian. Genderswapped House but not Wilson.

Gray Morning by starlingthefool (1k) All he remembers is that the transition between a stupid joke and the meeting of mouths was almost seamless. Christmas fic that takes place one year after "Merry Little Christmas" (3.10).

Loser Day Blues by blackmare, Nightdog_Barks (1k) February fourteenth is just another day, and another evening in which Wilson winds up at House’s, although — this time — not for the usual reasons.

*indefinable by PaintedVanilla (1k) House can hear Wilson getting ready for bed; he can hear him brushing his teeth, undressing, being unusually quiet. Normally there’s a humming; a breathless energy that House won’t admit to loving about him. He doesn’t hear it tonight. It’s dead silent.

criteria by PaintedVanilla (2k) “I don’t think they know that we’re married.”

***We Live Together in a Photograph of Time by ignaz (2k) Wilson's hair curls when they're fucking. God I'm devastated. The ✨atmosphere✨. This is so in character. And can we talk about the banger title and summary??? I was gnawing my arm before I even opened the fic. Set in s4.

***Things To Do Before You Die by thedeadparrot (2k) In which Wilson turns thirty-eight and a half, thinks about kittens, and doesn't have a midlife crisis. But not necessarily in that order. Prank war with a twist. I’m so fond. Hits all the right cadences with the writing.

So Let Us Melt, and Make No Noise by ignaz (2k) (2007) "You kill patients all the time," House said. "You never stay at work until--" He peered at the clock. "--Four in the morning to make sure they're really dead."

***Curiosity by Namaste (2k) (2006) From Cameron's perspective. Fun character study of her and by extension House and the other two musketeers. Not shippy.

Welcomed Change by JammiesDodger (2k) A cute G-rated getting together fic.

Alone, Together by daasgrrl (2k) Finding new ways to be intimate.

*Keep Your Eyes Wide by deepimpact (2k) There is no specific amount of time passed, no big event, no one thing that Wilson can pin as the catalyst. Obsessed with this. Great atmosphere, excellent prose, and and everything feels authentic and in character. Set pre-season/s1.

***Carrion Eaters by ignaz House, in some indeterminate future or an alternate universe, from the perspective of a new hire. I really loved this story. It's sharp and sad, with great build up.

***Projection by bironic (2k) Remember Ali, that really pretty 17/18 year old clinic patient that was obsessed with House? This fic is Wilson's elaborate fantasy about fucking her, which is of course as much about House as it is her. Post 3.04.

***No Exchange of Payment by otter (2k) The gifts that House gives to Wilson. I adore this. It's about the little things. Otter has exceptional prose and always nails the characterisation, which makes their writing a real pleasure to read.

***All the Effects of Intoxication (3k) by otter This only happens when they're drunk. Just as yummy as that one-line description suggests. I love this a lot — the characterisation and dialogue are excellent and I think this scenario is very realistic for them.

Leave This Harbor for the Sea by otter (3k) House was never the kind of friend who'd help you move, even when he'd had two good legs, not to mention two good arms perfectly capable of lifting boxes. He'd always been the sort of friend who'd stop by while you were packing, make cutting remarks about the failures of your romantic relationships, and use all the half-filled boxes as an excuse to root through your things.

***the growing up, the falling down by riceonrye (3k for the series) Wilson is trying to buy a nice make-up present for his girlfriend, but there’s a guy in the shop with him brazenly shoplifting. Wilson, meet House. This is so good!!! I grinned like an idiot all the way through. It captures the throw-bottles-at-windows side of Wilson so well. A very cute AU of a different first meeting whilst still remaining true to the characters. Don't forget to read the sequel as well.

***never rains (but it pours) by Transformatron (3k) So... remember that episode where House can't pee? I present you some excellently written pisskink pwp. Nails the hilson dynamic, so even if piss isn't your thing, give it a go?

***Blind Spot by blackmare, Nightdog_Barks (3k) Wilson becomes blind after a head injury. genfic.

***Four Blocks South of Eden by bethfrish (3k) If you wanted paradise, you're a little off. I loved the tentative, slightly off-kilter feeling of this. Bang on characterisation, dialogue, and use of 2nd person POV (House). Set in s1 — Wilson's marriage is falling apart, and it leads to a night that could be the start of something new.

***Lie To Me by zulu (4k) It's terribly simple. No one ever dies, and everybody lives happily ever after. Exuberant ketamine summer House!!! Equal parts sexy and heartbreaking. Check out the sequel as well (1k).

Stumbling Towards Something Real by ignaz (4k) House and Wilson on holiday in Mexico. (A flagrant excuse for smut, basically.) I'm soft. In character and well-written.

Goes the Neighbourhood by Dee_Laundry (4k) One month into their permanent positions, the new fellows catch a case on the weekend and have to track House down.

***Easy by GoldStarGrl (4k) James Wilson is the easiest person in his dorm. At McGill. In all of eastern Canada, maybe. A fleshed-out version of their first meeting, as well as an insightful character study of Wilson. Slots nicely into canon, whether you believe in the "wilson has cheated on every wife with house" version or the "they fucked when they first met and never talked about it again" version. I really enjoyed this — they’re beautifully in character, and it's excellent writing.

***A Momentary Lapse of Reason by otter (5k) Wilson and Julie through House’s eyes, from the beginning to the end. Skips back and forth between the past and now. The quiet yearning!!! Also *standing on the table with a megaphone* have i mentioned how GORGEOUS otter's prose is??

*Blow the Candles Out by bethfrish (5k) Another year older, another year wiser, another divorce lurking just around the corner. So good!!! Wilson celebrates his birthday amongst the detritus of his marriage. The prose is really exceptional here. House's dialogue is also especially well done. It's a fun read that holds up well on a re-read.

***midnight rain by GoldStarGrl (5k) Wilson can't possibly know the pain. But he wants to. I am vibrating!!! Set precanon, in the aftermath of the infarction. Infidelity, spanking, hello??? Hot, vivid, excellent characterisation, excellent writing etc etc. A+ no notes.

***Through The Looking Glass (The Male Gaze Mashup) by zulu (5k) "If Wilson didn't know, great. What he didn't know couldn’t hurt him. If Wilson did know, it didn't matter, because if he hadn't berated House for it yet, then it was permission to continue." Interesting character study of Wilson and the way House slots into his life. Imaginative and fun descriptions. I did feel slightly lost at some points but it was still a great read. Excerpt: House tears open every envelope, even those addressed to Occupant, then brings back the well-read contents like a cat offering half-dead moles to its hunting-deficient human.

Empathy, Inc. by sassyjumper (5k) Cuddy hires a company that provides 'empathy training' to doctors. House reacts. Set in an earlier season.

***All's Fair In Love (and war) by Transformatron (6k) House and Wilson are enjoying the last day of their holiday when an urgent call comes through from Princeton-Plainsboro - a medical mystery that only House can solve. And he does intend to solve it, despite Wilson's best efforts to distract him. (Established relationship.) Wilson making House do a case whilst fucking him?? I'm an absolute sucker for this trope and I was delighted to find a fic with it.

A Towered Citadel by Namaste (7k) A differential diagnosis for Wilson’s serial cheating.

***And the Borders of Old Cities Get Redrawn by blackmare (7k) Continuation/canon divergence from 8.02 "Transplant". Ch1 is the most perfect episode tag I am vibrating . The way they fall back into their old rhythm!! House seeking out his touch like a cat and Wilson accepting it, even liking it!! The hints of pre-relationship are so delicious. (This is a rare slash fic from blackmare.) Ch2&3 are also absolutely brilliant!! Great characterisation, pacing, and tension-building.

A Voice in Ramah (Welcome to Holland) by ignaz (8k) Cuddy POV on her pregnancy journey. Diverges from the show. Really well done. ignaz did this topic and Cuddy's character justice. I also particularly liked House in this one.

Singapore by thedeadparrot (8k) (2009) In which the boys go to a medical conference in Singapore, House has a few surprises up his sleeve, and Wilson figures some things out.

*A Helping Hand by bironic (9k) Wilson has an unusually rough day and House decides (somewhat despite himself) to help. Things go further than he planned. A believable foray into non-platonic territory, set in between 2.22 (Forever) and 2.24 (No Reason). What better way to take your mind off your patients than a good-ol handjob between friends? Chuck in an absolutely delicious fucked-up overtone characteristic of them and we're golden.

Rarepairs

Chase/House

***pretty doctor by spqr (5k) AU where Chase is a hooker. House becomes obsessed with him after he off-handedly gives the correct differential diagnosis. spqr is an excellent writer that I've followed across multiple fandoms, and this fic did not disappoint. Well-written, great chemistry, hilarious. I could read 100k of this.

***atonement in the locker room after hours by missaa (2k) robert chase makes two mistakes in one day Tags: Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, degradation, God Complex, Catholic Guilt This is just as yummy as those tags make it sound. Someone needed to capitalise on the whole *waves hand vaguely* thing that Chase has going on and by god did this person rise to the occasion. Love the characterisation and the elegant prose, and the structure that flashes back and forth between two scenes. I'm insane!

Chase/Foreman Shoutout to ignaz who sold me on this pairing.

*Pretty Harsh (Confirmatory Testing Remix) by everybodylies (2k) Foreman might have flirted with Chase six months ago for like thirty seconds. Chase can't stop thinking about it.

***Two For The Road by ignaz (3k) For the first ever Foreman Fest, prompt 107 -- "after a break and enter gone wrong, Foreman and Chase are both sentenced to 300 hours of community service, which it looks like they're gonna spend picking up trash on the side of the road." Really solid writing (I mean it’s ignaz), believable characterisation and relationship building. I love them 💓💓💓 just overall a real pleasure to read. Also it's hilarious.

***Eric Foreman Doesn't Take It Up The Ass (But If He Did, It Might Happen Something Like This) by ignaz (6k)

Self-Defense, or The One Where Foreman Teaches Chase How to Throw a Punch by ignaz (1k)

Cameron/Foreman/Chase

Third Wheel Rolling by ignaz He's not jealous, but he's been the third wheel for so long that it's hard to tell the difference. Sexy + great characterisations.

Cuddy/Stacy

***Your Reflection and Mine by Starlingthefool (3k) Sweet, hot, well written.

Amber/Thirteen

***Hate (to the power of 13) by ijemanja (2k) (lj) Porny, with snappy writing and believable characterisations.

Hen Night by zulu (<1k) This is how breakups go. Amber's seen movies.

Release by zulu (1k) Wilson dies on the bus instead of Amber.

Chase/Wilson

Erase by bethfrish (<1k) Featuring a bar and crossdressing. Precanon. Second person, Wilson POV.

Patrick Bateman/Wilson

Just Like You, Only Worse by bethfrish (1k) Ok before you raise your eyebrows at the pairing, give it a chance. Bethfrish is an excellent writer. This fic is really a Wilson character study, and it's an interesting read. Second person POV Wilson, set in s1.

#house md #hilson #house x wilson #house fic rec #house md fic #house md fic rec #my rec list #please let me know fi there are any formatting issues or random chunks of text that shouldnt be there or whatever because tubmrl sucks #i spent way too much fucking time on these rec lists

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steddieunderdogfics · 3 months ago

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This week’s writer spotlight feature is: @fandomlover1992! FandomLover1992 has 7 works in the Stranger Things fandom, and all of them are in the steddie tag.

@kaypie91 or anonymous nominator recommends the following works by @fandomlover1992:

Hello My Old Heart

Nothing Sweeter Than My Baby

A Rage That Never Wavers

Chained Up Fire

Finding Krampus

"I love her story lines so much! It never fails, once I get an email that one of her fics have updated I drop everything and RUN to ao3. Her fics really make you feel the feels." -- @kaypie91

Below the cut, @fandomlover1992 answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

Honestly, when I first started getting obsessed with Steddie, I wanted to read a very specific AU. I loved the plotline of season 4 but I was literally distraught by Eddie dying LOL! And I was like he doesn't have to be dead in an AU. He can live happily in an AU with Steve 😍😍😍

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I love enemies to lovers. It is just such an amazing journey to see two characters go from one extreme to the other. To go from completely loathing someone to 'I'll kill for you.' The journey can be comedic but also humbling as the characters have to be able to say 'maybe I was wrong about you.'

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

I love, love, love soul-mate AUs. Particularly ones where they know it the moment they see each other. It just makes me feel so warm and fuzzy when someone goes, "Yes, this is the one. I don't need to look any further this idiot is mine and I'll love him and wrap him up in a blanket and feed him."

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

Oh Goddess there are so many. Honestly the fic that I am constantly astounded by and just re-read all the time is Hic Sunt Dracones by Just-My-Latest-Hyperfixation. I am just so floored by the level of passion and imagery and masterful storytelling.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I love reading a slow burn Enemies to Lovers but I feel I'm too impatient to write it. I'll be like chapter 1 going good, they hate each other and….boom chapter 2 they're in love and married. So, I really want to challenge myself to be patient and let the plot flow nice and slow.

What is your writing process like?

So, it's extremely chaotic but I love it. A lot of times I won’t necessarily have a story or plotline at first, but I will just have a scene in my mind. So I will write that scene and then reverse engineer the story to that scene and that's how I create the plot. For example in Nothing Sweeter Then My Baby, it was the scene where Eddie finds Steve at the bakery and he knows that Steve is his soulmate, but Steve is denying it and is so scared to be discovered. So, I had to be like ok why is Steve hiding? Why is he running? Why is Eddie so desperately looking?

Do you have any writing quirks?

Yes, when I start a story it is so chaotic. Cause I never ever start at the beginning. I will write like two scenes that are not in any shape related, then a single line will pop in my head and I'll write that but I won't finish it and I'll just start writing another one and next thing I know I have 5k of gibberish.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

When I finish…or when I'm like ok I need to post people are starting I'm dead lol!

Which fic are you most proud of?

Honestly, not to sound pretentious but all of them. There was a time when I looked at a blank page and felt nothing but hopelessness that I could ever fill it, much less be able to write 10,000 words in one sitting. As weird as it sounds writing Steddie has given me the hope, the skills, and the drive to become a published writer someday

How did you get the idea for Hello My Old Heart?

So, I was reading Bad Beat by LexiRoseWrites and I just kept getting this idea about Eddie being so mad at Steve at the end, he just picked up and left town. And poor Steve is pregnant and alone. Lexi gave me her blessing to write it and I tagged her work as inspiration at the bottom.

When writing Hello My Old Heart, what was something you didn’t expect?

I didn't expect the plot to take me where it did. I had planned it just to be a heartfelt, angsty story but through workshopping some ideas I came up with the Brenner/pills plotline.

What inspired Nothing Sweeter Than My Baby?

I always loved the idea of soul-mate identifying marks and how that would affect real life. So, I thought it would be really cool to combine the idea with royalty core and draw out the dangers one might experience being the soul-mate of a very important and powerful person.

What was your favorite part to write from Finding Krampus?

The parts where Eddie makes Steve blush. I love that little cat and mouse games where they are both attracted to each other but are scared to make a real move so they just flirt and blush and giggle. I find it so sweet and exhilarating.

How do/did you feel writing A Rage That Never Wavers?

When I started, I was going through a very difficult time. When I'm overwhelmed or just so fucking done with everything and the people around me, I just want to be alone and self isolate. I felt like no matter what I said, or did or even wanted, everyone was attacking me. So, I came up with a scene of Steve alone in a cabin in the woods and he was just scared of everyone including Eddie. And so I reversed engineered, what if there was a magical reason this was happening and therefore a magical cure. Don't we all want that when we have anxiety and the world is pressing your chest and getting air feels like a battle. I am doing much, much better now and I am very determined to finish the story before Halloween.

What was the most difficult part of writing Chained Up Fire?

Honestly, it was probably one of the easiest stories to write. It just flowed out of me. Full disclosure I'm having trouble picking it up because I feel like it's original enough to publish, so who knows?

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

For Nothing Sweeter Then My Baby: "Eddie’s heart was slow, proud, heavy and belonging to Steve. And by everything that was holy and unholy in this world, he would deliver it to Steve at his feet."

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Yes, when I get all my WIPs done, I am going to start on a vampire/ABO/royaltycore fic that I'm too excited about.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

No, just that it seems silly but writing Steddie has legit changed my life and gave me hope again that I could be a professional writer. And I love the supportive community so much and I really, really hope that it stays strong even past the series finally.

Thank you to our author, @fandomlover1992, and our nominator, @kaypie91! See more of FandomLover1992's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#writers spotlight #writer's wednesday #steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things

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the-ace-with-spades · 8 months ago

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List of Works-In-Progress I'm still intending to write/actively writing 📃✨

or my accountability list to look at in a few months...

last updated: 09/04/24

Fandoms: 🚒 9-1-1 [5-7 works], ✈️ Top Gun (movies) [9 works], 🔪CoD (reboot only for now) [4 works]

Already posted on AO3, ongoing works:

✈️ Top Gun, hangster — (sometimes I feel) like a monkey pilot, trans!Rooster fic with a hangster confrontation (and getting back together), 6 years after Rooster's transition. When recalled to Top Gun. #(sif) lamp tag

✈️ Top Gun, hangster, slow down (you're doing fine) — Rooster-centric/character study fic with Getting Back Together trope and past-hangster flashbacks and icemav as parents #slow down tag

✈️ Top Gun, hangster — just hold my hand, outsider Mav POV, kind TG:M retelling AU

Bradley and Jake are married and have four kids and Mav didn't know about any of it until the special detachment because he and Bradley haven't talked in years. Things happen and Mav gets to be a grandpa. (vague, unspecified kind of mpreg is in this story)

Planned out and started sequels/bonuses, not posted yet:

✈️ Top Gun, icemav — bonus for slow down (you're doing fine)

It is the 5+1 icemav prequel from the slow down universe I talked about, I just don't seem to finish it (it's really hard to write Ice POV...)

The 5 times Ice waited for Mav to be ready and 1 time Mav realized he'd been ready for a while.

✈️ Top Gun, hangster — sequel for slow down (you're doing fine)

The weeks after Bradley and Jake decide to try being together again, mostly trying to figure out how to be together in a way that is healthier and more honest. Including meeting the parents (icemav), meeting the sister (Jake's), and Nat's judgment.

✈️ Top Gun, hangster — sparks (working title), sequel/bonus for ignition, the firefighter! Bradley AU #ignition tag

Done in snippets/drabbles. The adventures of firefighter!Bradley and still a naval aviator!Jake, which would include the world cockblocking them from finally going on their first date (5 times they had to cancel their date, and 1 time didn't), the awkward first times, as well as Bradley lecturing Jake on safety a little bit too often (and Jake finding it hot...)

Started writing, but haven't posted yet and don't know if I'll ever finish it even if I want to:

🔪 CoD, ghostsoap — exhumation, different first meeting and (kinda) secret identity AU — overview here, a snippet here

Written in a flashback/present sequence. Soap and Ghost met when they were just Johnny and Simon, starting in the Army. From dates, to sharing a Manchester flat, ending with Simon being MIA in Mexico for months, they'd been together through a lot. But the Christmas Eve Simon's family, bar Johnny, is killed, he chooses to die with them and never put anyone in danger. Years pass, and Soap joins TF-141.

🔪 CoD, ghostsoap — don't shoot me, santa, first Christmas Ghost spends with the MacTavish family (and first Christmas he spends with anyone in almost 10 years) and all its troubleshooting — overview here

Johnny takes Ghost to Scotland to spend their first Christmas together. Johnny's family is not too thrilled about Ghost — about the mask he wears, about the job he has, about the family he doesn't have, about how faceless he is, even to Johnny. Ghost decides that Johnny is worth taking the mask off and starting living as Simon again.

🚒 9-1-1, buddie — brand new information, the 5+1 jealous!Eddie fic — a snippet here

5 times Eddie found something new about Buck's taste in men (and was ridiculous about it) and 1 time he found out Buck's type (Eddie)

Used to titled in my drafts 'eddie trying to prove he matches bucks taste in men'

🚒 9-1-1, buddie — the cure series, a canon-divergence au after Wrapped in Red with a side of trans!Buck

Part 1, 'cause boys don't cry, a snippet here — Buck decides to leave the 118 after Wrapped In Red in order to stop defining himself by the people he loves and learn to live alone and both succeeds and fails at it. Includes Buck long-distance parenting Chris, Eddie feeling like a long-distance spouse whose husband refuses to stop taking long-distance jobs, jealous!Eddie, Maddie&Eddie bestism, and people all over the States assuming Buck is divorced. Longest part of the series and the most angsty one.

Part 2, like I'm home again, a snippet here [coming soon??] — future fic, Buck is back at 118, he and Eddie are married, Chris is choosing colleges, and Bobby is trying to get Buck into leadership training so he can retire. And then, Eddie enters what Buck and Chris think is a mid-life crisis, but is in reality a baby fever.

Part 3, untitled, a snippet here — future fic, outsider POV from a new probie at the 118. Captain Diaz and Lieutenant Diaz are running the firehouse, but their family, including kids, Buck's not-dad and retired captain Bobby, keep on popping up and confusing the new probie. Buck also pulls a Bobby and 'adopts' the new probie.

Parts probably won't be posted in order.

🚒 9-1-1, buddie — accidental trans pregnancy, a short one-shot based on a meme post.

Buck is nauseous, Chim makes a joke (not knowing Buck is trans and have been dating Eddie for a few months now), and Eddie has a metaphorical heart attack at the table.

🚒 9-1-1, buddie — Buck wants to be a parent and thanks to Connor, he realizes he can be a parent without finding a partner first — overview here

The most ridiculous fic idea I've had the desire to write. Involves trans Buck, sperm donor arc in reverse, Eddie doing mental summersaults to be said sperm donor.

🚒 9-1-1, buddie — AU for the post-lawsuit arc, with buddie already being a couple before the lawsuit — snippet here [coming soon??]

Buck takes the settlement and becomes a (maybe temporary) househusband/stay-at-home-dad. This would be centred on Buck, but would not have the crew bashing, but rather a realistic view on how everyone feels and how the lawsuit and settlement deal would affect the team, etc.

✈️ Top Gun, hangster — with arms wide open, omegaverse mpreg that follows the TG:M storyline (kinda) — overview here

(in my head, this fic is very soap opera-like, but I like it this way so...) Bradley and Jake had been together 7 years with no mating, no marriage, and or no even just meeting Jake's family, and Bradley was okay with it. Until he found out he was pregnant. So when Jake doesn't want anything to change, Bradley leaves and seeks help from the only person he can think of — Ice. Cue the wayward son getting reconciled, a few months passing, and by the time Bradley meets Jake again, he's six months pregnant.

Drafted only but I still want to write it sometime:

✈️ Top Gun, hangster — Pacific Rim AU — a tag for this fic is #hangster pacific rim au

History repeats itself — Mav loses his drift partner and raises his kid and years later, Bradley loses his drift partner and raises her kid (with a twist). Mav doesn't leave PPDC, but Bradley does — at least until Ice shows up telling him the world is ending, this time for good. Featuring Jake being both Bradley's fanboy and a tsundere (ala Chuck about Raleigh) and weirdly good with kids and the typical mortifying ordeal of being seen during the drift.

✈️ Top Gun, hangster — sequel for (sometimes I feel), like a monkey pilot, that would dive into the idea of Jake and Bradley starting a family

I'll make a post about this at some point because there are so many ways this could be written. I do think that they're the type that would have an accidental pregnancy, but there are so many ways this could happen (on deployment, right before deployment, cryptic pregnancy, with some miscommunication involved - I think they're dumb enough any of it seems feasible)

🔪 CoD, ghostsoap, possible side gazprice?? — blindsided, tattoo artist/florist au but not really, with a misunderstanding twist

Where Ghost and Soap are both ex-military, Ghost and Price have a tattoo shop, and a street away what they think is a florist shop opens. Totally self-indulgent because I wanted to give Ghost a full-body skeleton tattoo, skull-face tattoo included. I have absolutely no other details besides this, this is slightly recycled from another fandom...

🔪 CoD, ghostsoap — with lights off, a longer one-shot about Simon and Johnny still being badass even if retired from the military

Retried, Simon and Johnny move to Glasgow and start a family. While Johnny still craves the adrenaline and works with the Glasgow Organised Crime and Counter Terrorist Unit, Simon rides among the streets as a paramedic in the Motorcycle Response Unit and only shows up when the guns and stabs are done. That is, until the day when Johnny and his team are taken hostage in a terrorist attack and he's the first responder on scene and The Ghost is needed again.

There are probably a few more in this category and in the kinda-abandoned-but-not-really category, I never fully abandon my works but I'll leave it at that for now

#i need holidays #gonna add this to my masterpost #i feel like ill be judged by the amount of trans pregnancy here but as a trans dude who wants to eventually get pregnant #and has regular baby fevers and can't find fics about it written the way I need #i've stopped caring #buddie #hangster #ghostsoap #(sif) lamp tag #ignition tag #slow down tag #charlie writes #cod #top gun #911 fox

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imthefemalemonster · 2 years ago

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Hey! I don't know if you write a/b/o universe, (but I'll try my luck) so could I get an imagine/oneshot nsfw Alpha Daemon x Omega fem reader, where reader goes into heat, but Daem had to leave ( maybe solve some issues for Viserys) and he will take some time to come back, in the meantime Rhae Rhae (who is a beta) and has a sincere friendship with reader takes care of her (in the sense of caring and not in the sexual sense) so her heat passes and Daem comes back, but Reader is mad at him for leaving her alone while he's going through this (since it's her first heat she's been through alone), so he tries to talk to her, but she won't. Days pass and they finally talk, to which she cries and says how painful it was, he apologizes and makes it up to her, please? (with angst and fluff and if you can write down the moments of care that Rhae Rhae has for her, I will be extremely grateful)

Hello beautiful - I sure do! I’m not really an expert in it since I don’t read/write much of it but still hope you like it. ♡

***

⸻Set Me Free

Daemon Targaryen x Female!Reader (A/B/O - Angst Smut Fluff)

⸻Summary: Nothing could have prepared you for your first heat, especially not the absence of your husband. Your close and loving friend Rhaenyra stays at your side, but you won't forgive Daemon so easily as you ensure he makes it up to you.

Tags: A/B/O, Fluff, Angst, Smut, With Plot, PIV, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex, (f receiving), Kisses & Hugs, Multiple Orgasms, Aftercare, No use of Y/N, No beta I'm sleep deprived

⸻Read on Ao3

Notes: More Daemon x Fem!Reader, I’m very brainrot and definitely love to write it ~ The filth is at the end - I made the fic so you can read the smut or angst/fluff as a standalone since there’s a time skip! (smut after “***”)

Changed a bit the tropes of A/B/O for the sake of the fic.

Requested by anon, hope you like it. ♡

Tumblr for ideas/requests: @imthefemalemonster

Smut & fluff prompts: here & here

⸻Words: 6108 (Smut part ~ 2k7)

No words could fit the feeling. Nothing would be precise enough to describe it. The bed shifted as you weight left it, but the second your toes hit the floor, you felt like it gave away under your feet. Despite all the things you were told about, everything you read, living through the very first heat was much worse than you could ever hope for it to be. As an omega, you made sure to know everything about heat, especially after you presented and married your Alpha, the well-known Prince Daemon Targaryen. Thinking about it had made you anxious more than once, but yet you were well surrounded and Daemon reassured you that he would guide you with every step.

A soft gasp left your lips as you stumbled, your hands reaching for nothing, the floor dangerously close. Your knees failed you as you sensed the cold floor against your burning skin. You couldn’t tell how many seconds or even minutes passed since you left the bed. Your skin was set ablaze the moment you moved and the only reason you weren’t already laying on the floor was because Daemon caught you in his arms. It was still very early in the morning, you had just woken up wanting to join him at his desk when it hit you. Daemon had sensed it the instant he heard the mattress shift.

“It’s alright, love.”

You breathed heavily against his chest, a hand holding your back, the other caressing your head gently. He smelled so good. You had felt it before but this time it was different, it was like the scent was everywhere around you, inside you, invading every inch of your skin. You could have ripped your clothes apart, it was hot, too hot. Your fingers dug in the leather of Daemon top as you felt his grasp tighten, his hand moving under your knees lifting you up.

“D-daemon!”, you whined, fingers hopelessly scratching the clothes. Tears left your eyes, mouth part open in a silent scream.

Daemon moved you back to the bed, thumbs brushing the skin of your legs and shoulders, his own breaths growing louder as he sensed your distress. Despite showing much more self-control, having known previous heats, Daemon’s heart still raced in his chest with anticipation. You both awaited this moment with grand impatience, you heard how important it was. It was impossible to put words on it yet, but the only feeling buried deep inside you was the need for pleasure and carnal desire for your alpha.

You sighed as you felt your body lay on the bed, Daemon at your side, holding your back as he positioned himself sitting behind you. You let your head fall on his chest, it felt like it was either going to explode or melt. The tender skin of your neck exposed, Daemon leaned it to kiss it gently, slowly, as his wet lips grazed it. Dizzy, you laughed at the sensation while he whispered honey-like words against you. His embrace felt delicious, reassuring and blissful.

“So sweet.”

“W-what now?”, you murmured.

His hands wandered on your chest and waist, gripping at your nightgown like he wanted to tear it apart. You wished his hands were everywhere at once on you, every inch of your skin covered by his. Your core burned a strange sensation you had never felt before.

“Now I’m taking care of my little omega.”, he smirked, lips meeting your flushed cheeks as his fingers ran on your collarbone, slipping under the edge of your clothes.

You nodded, whatever it meant you were ready to do it. You would do everything for him at this very instant, you needed it.

“And I’ll show you how to take care of your Alpha, hm?”, he kissed your ear, words flowing in as you drank them all.

You laid into him as he resumed the assault on your neck, his hands carefully pulling your nightgown up. At first you thought it was only your head, so intoxicated in his scent that the regular noises of knocking were coming from inside you. But as it became louder and louder, voices accompanying it, you rapidly came out of your torpor to realize people were knocking at your door.

Daemon's mouth left your skin as you whined, pulling on the leather of his top. Annoyance filled your body as the knocks weren’t stopping.

“Fuck off!”, he screamed. An answer very much like him.

The voices were inaudible, they sounded like a bunch of men calling for Daemon.

“I SAID FUCK OFF. NOT NOW.” His voice was so loud behind you it almost could shatter your entire body. His arms locked around your shoulders he held you like you could disappear at any instant.

“Urgent matters, my Prince.”

Daemon didn’t respond, wanting to focus back on you, but the knock and voices just wouldn’t stop.

“Let us in, we come bearing a messag-”

“If you FUCKING come in”, yelled Daemon, “I’ll have your fucking head rolling on the floor and those of all your family members too.”

“King’s orders.”

Daemon sighed. Digits brushing your skin gently as you held onto him, fingernails digging in the fabric, your eyes begging him not to leave.

“I’m”, he muttered, shaking his head. None of the men would be alive by the end of this very day, you could tell, but yet his words left you aback, “I’m so sorry love.”

“D-daemon don’t-”, you cried out, hands reaching for him in a desperate attempt to keep him close.

“I’ll come back soon”, he started to move, you whined at the loss when he left the bed, you almost collapsed on it, “Very soon.” His face looked as pained as yours, yet he still left, each inch separating you now breaking your heart a little more.

The door slammed open as Daemon reached for Dark Sister, ready to slice anyone coming in. But to your great surprise it wasn’t guards or maids that entered, but Rhaenyra herself. She tilted her head toward him, the fire in her eyes could have melted him whole.

“You can’t-”

“I have no choices, you should understand.”, he rasped, “If it’s Viserys-”

“Understand?!”, she raised her hands up but kept her voice low not to alarm you, “It’s her first… - You cannot be serious.”

“I’ll be back sooner than she realizes.”, he lowered his head, avoiding any other eye contact, fist clenched around the hilt of his sword.

Rhaenyra let him leave, your cries echoing in the room as the door closed. She would handle that later, but for now you were the top priority.

“Oh poor thing.”, she whispered, face leaving the wooden door as she ran to you, “Come here.”

You whined when she touched your arm, her embrace mother-ly. You rested your head on her shoulder, face reddened and wet with angry and desperate tears.

“I-I. W-why-”, you couldn’t form any coherent words. Daemon leaving felt like your entire skin had been ripped apart and you were left bleeding against the cold floor.

“I’m here”, murmured Rhaenyra, holding you close to her, “He’ll be back soon. I’ll take care of you, beautiful.”

You nodded against her chest, fingers gripping at the fabric, focusing your attention on anything else but your burning skin. Your cries were certainly heard in the entire castle, you wanted to scream so loud.

“I’ve prepared cold water for you.”, her hand brushed your head gently, “Take your dress off, we’ll change it, you'll feel better once washed.”

She waited for an answer, your consent before doing anything, but you didn’t say anything. You couldn’t because any sounds that were escaping your lips were cries for help.

“Alright?”

You finally nodded against her, she smiled softly as she rested your body on the cushions, accepting the basin from the maids.

“Leave now, have nobody walk into this room while I take care of her.”

The maids bowed and left immediately. Back at your side Rhaenyra proceeded to take your dress off. You sighed, relieved when the fabric left your skin. Naked you didn’t feel cold, your body was still burning, inside and outside, yet you still shaked, filled with incomprehension. You melted into Rhaenyra's lovely embrace when she pressed the cool cloth on your skin, washing the sweat and tears away. Her kind words cradled you, soothing your worries. Still you felt empty, as much as her touch was reassuring, it wasn’t the one you needed. You needed the burning presence of Daemon. Your fists clenched, not from sadness but pure anger. Why wasn’t he here?

Once washed, Rhaenyra dressed you up again, the fabric soft on your relaxed skin. You couldn’t tell how much time had passed. Your eyes were closed, the sun burning them each time they would open. You felt helplessly tired, head resting on the cushion as Rhaenyra was still at your side, whispering kind words and telling stories that had you smiling through the obvious pain. She took your hand in hers as you slowly fell asleep, mind still hazy from the heat. She didn’t leave your side until Daemon came back, a killer-stare toward him when he dared entering the room, very late into the night.

He bowed his head to her, his face as tired as yours peacefully asleep. She shook her head and he said nothing, he knew nothing needed to be said. Carefully she left your side, face still turned toward you to notice any reactions, but you didn’t move, your breath regular but loud again. She joined him by the door.

“You’re irresponsible.” The words were cold, cutting him raw.

Daemon was too tired for a sermon and too angry for reproaches.

“It was-”, he paused, eyes escaping his niece murdering stare. No words, no excuses would be enough.

“Give her your best excuses. You are a lucky man if she accepts them.” Rhaenyra turned a worrying eyes toward you, but you were still asleep, “Heat is a matter of three or four more days, you better make up for it.”, she continued.

Daemon nodded, lips parted open. Air escaped him but no noises. The two Targaryen exchanged once last lilac stare before Rhaenyra left. Daemon turned his pained eyes toward you. He looked at your beautiful body asleep, wanting to hold you close, lift you up and kiss you again and again. The entire day had been hell for him, but he handled heat before. He could never forgive himself for leaving, but yet even if he thought about it all day, he couldn’t find the right words.

His mere presence was enough to wake you up. Your body felt hot again, skin stinging against any fabric brushing your skin. You whined but muffled it with a hand, turning you back to the door. Your hands gripped the sheets, eyes closed and focusing on the darkness around you. You heard sounds of boots approaching, fabric on the floor, steel against the cold walls, and the mattress shifted. Shivers ran through your body, you waited, but nothing came. No noises, no words. Your head dug into the cushion, you hoped you could disappear in them. It pained you, your body telling otherwise, but you begged to be left alone, any more touch would disgust you.

Daemon observed you, the skin of your back, your head, your irregular breaths informing him that you were awake. He wished that if he touched you, you would turn back and throw yourself in his arms, that he would kiss you and whisper a gentle but sincere ‘sorry’ and everything would be fine. But he felt your anger, he felt everything inside you. Still his hand reached for you back, but the second his digits brushed your hot skin, you squirmed away.

“I’m so sorry, love.”, he murmured. You shook your head slightly, hands on your ears. You wanted to hear none of it.

“I should have been here.”, he continued, you felt him move closer, his broad body and heat engulfing you. You whined, pained cries leaving your lips. Your distress clearly showing, breaking his heart piece by piece. He moved away from you, head still turned toward you, scared you would run away at any moment.

“But you weren’t.”

You couldn’t tell how many days had passed, two or three. You didn’t count, your heat was still going on but you avoided anyone, locked in your room or in Rhaenyra’s as she continued to look after you. You felt like losing it. You had barely since Daemon. More than once he had tried to reach you, try and talk to you but you couldn’t. His excuses felt empty, his touches were hypocritical. Yet every time he wasn’t near you, you cried his absence. You didn’t know why you just didn’t throw yourself in his arms, maybe you wanted him to be hurt as much as he hurt you.

Hours passed and they felt like a living nightmare. You cried, stumbled upon your feet, begged for anyone who heard to take the pain away. Everytime you closed your eyes you saw yourself again, alone as Daemon crossed the door and never turned to look at you, as minutes and hours passed and he wasn’t back at your side. Sadness became anger and anger turned into insatiable wrath. You wanted to scream at him and hope he would shatter. Tears run down your face at all hours, hoping it would dry your body so hard you would simply die from it. Guilt and anger filled your body. You wanted Daemon at your side as much as you despised him, it tore you apart, bleeding you open. When will the pain end?

The last day of your heat, you stayed in your chambers. You hoped that maybe your anger and sadness would calm down soon. You felt dizzy all morning, Daemon had left early as he did the previous day. His scent was everywhere in the room and for once you allowed yourself to rest alongside it, focusing on your body and your breaths. You could have cried all day again, the pain you both endured the first day was nothing compared to what you were inflicting to one another. But you wanted Daemon to understand, you wanted him to look you in the eyes, promise he’ll never leave again. You wanted the words to flow so naturally out of him it would be carved in your heart forever. You didn’t know if it would be enough, but still you craved to hear it.

The door opened, nonchalant boots hitting the floor in irregular rhythm. Your peripheral sight let you observe Daemon, you sensed his anger and impatience as he turned to you, face flushed and sweat running down, probably from training.

“Time to talk.”

You stared at each other in silence. The hunger and anger were indivisible in you both.

“I have nothing to say, husband.”, the last word left your mouth like a reproach.

“This can’t keep going.”, he husked.

A laugh escaped your lips as you turned your body to him, sitting at the edge of the bed as he was standing there, a meter away from you.

“I wonder because of who.” Your eyes defied him, and as much as his ego stood tall in the room, towering you, you wouldn’t let go.

He approached, but this time you didn’t move. His steps were heavy, threatening as his scent. You shook, your body heating up, but still you wouldn’t let yourself be tamed this easily. You wouldn’t hold long against your alpha, he was made to have you yield. But you hoped he could read the thousand pleas in your eyes. His hand reached for your arm, gentle to your greatest surprise, but you escaped his grip, his fist clenching around nothing.

“I’m sorry”, his voice was so low, from sadness, shame, anger. He refused to let your first heat pass without showing you all its wonders. But no words seemed

“You don’t understand”, you simply spoke. His eyes widened, fingernails digging in his palms. What more can I say? he thought.

“I said I was sorry!”, Daemon yelled, belt unbuckled, he threw his sword away, it hit the floor with a loud noise that had you jumping.

“You didn’t mean it!”, you screamed, “A-and, even if you did-”. You violently clapped your hands on your ears, the shock echoing in your head as you cried loudly.

You heard him move closer, eyes part open, you observed him kneel down before you. His face

“You know I’m sincere.”, he whispered, he brushed your legs with his palm. You wanted to give up to his heat, to his touch, “I am sorry.”, he paused, letting you process every word, “I had no choice but to leave and I regret that I had to do so. I should have prepared you better and it’s my whole responsibility as your alpha”, his thumb brushed your overheated skin, you looked at him as your hand met the back of his, he smirked, “I should have protected you better.”

You tilted your head, it was more than you ever hoped for, the words enveloping you in a loving embrace.

“I’ll not beg you, I’ll not cry, I know what you want from me and I’ll give it to you if you let me.”

You broke when the last sentence left his mouth. You leaned in, arms around his shoulders to meet his broad figure. You rested in his arms as he held you close, hands gently brushing your back, your head lost in his neck as you cried, all the pain left in your body rolling down your cheeks. He met your embrace, a hand placed on your head, lowering to your neck. Tender words escaped his lips as your tears washed away your last sorrow.

Daemon stood up, carefully lifting you up by the knees, just like he did the first time. You still sensed it as your body met the mattress, the heat, the need; but now it felt so peaceful, so loving. Your breaths were irregular yet calm. Everything that needed to happen would eventually, and you knew this time you would let yourself be interrupted. You rested against the cushions as Daemon moved an arm under your head, holding you as your mouths finally met, one hand cupping your wet cheeks. Daemon traced the outline of your lips with the tip of his tongue, smiling into the kiss. You happily let him in, your tongues meeting, moaning against him. The taste was even better than the scent. Leaving your cheek, his hand moved to your chin, finger lowering to your neck where it rested a few seconds, squeezing it lightly. Your lips still hadn’t parted away, teeth clicking as you felt his hot palm brush your arm, digits playfully pulling at your dress. Those weren’t teasing touches, they were sincere and tender.

Once separated, you whined at the loss, breathing each other’s air, your lips brushing one another. Daemon moved his arm from under your head, resting above you as he steadied himself on his hand, his hips against yours, spreading your legs open. You watched him as he studied your body, you felt bare under his gaze, his eyes filled with newfound hunger. You observed him, the scars showing on his neck, his broad figure, his weight digging you in the mattress, the way his chest moved above you, his blonde locks falling over his face and shoulders. Not even the Gods could have sculpted such a beautiful creature.

“I love you.”

You spoke the word with confidence, you knew them to be true.

“I love you too.”

Your hands reached behind his neck, pulling him into a hot kiss as he met your enthusiasm.

“Let’s do it properly this time”, he murmured against your lips, noses brushing, “Right, love?”

***

“Show me”, you whispered against his lips, your hands shaking around him, your core wet, burning from the need of feeling whole, from the lust and desire to satiate your alpha.

Daemon smirked at the invitation, more than happy to oblige. It wasn’t really your first time. Pleasure wasn’t unknown to you both, especially him. He had gone down on you more than once, and so you had returned the favor. But with the heat, this all felt different. The need was eating you both alive. You wanted to helplessly rub against him, the friction of your bodies relieving any kind of hunger you had. Daemon’s hot palms on your ankles sent a shiver down your spine, he had moved further on the bed, legs spread open by his grasp. You looked down as he teasingly, slowly pulled your dress up, his digits brushing your skin painfully. You wanted his mouth to meet with your body with such fervor you were ready to grab his face and force him to, but all strength had left your body. You only laid there submissively, at the mercy of Daemon’s hands.

“Don’t you dare”, you laughed as he raised his eyes to meet yours, vile smirk on his lips.

“I can make it good but I can make it funny too.”, he mewled, body leaning in closer to your center dripping wet from the teasing through your small clothes. His hands met your thighs and you gasped loudly.

“F-focus on the good part!”

Daemon licked his lips as his fingers reached for your inner thighs. You felt like you were going to explode, you tried to work the best you could to undo your top but your digits were shaking in anticipation, unable to focus on the simple task. You felt his fingernails dig in the skin, scratching the clothes hiding your virtue. Lifting your legs up, moving his hips against yours, he laid closer, his weight above yours, pressing you on the mattress as he met your lips again. This time with renewed lust, sinful noises escaping you both, you whined when he rubbed his leathered erection between your legs. The clothes couldn’t hide how hard he was and you could already feel him whole. It only had your mouth watering at the thought of having it inside you, tearing you apart with all the strength you wished him to use.

Your hand reached between your bodies, palming his shaft as he met your touch, groaning into the kiss. His hands worked your top faster than you did, undoing it and pushing the fabric down, exposing your breast to the hot air, bouncing with your irregular breath and jumping at any of his touches. Daemon stood up again, hungrily pushing the clothes down to your waist, his thumb resting on your lower belly as he leaned in again, mouth feasting on the burning and sweaty skin of your chest. Your hands moved to grab a fistful of his hair, pushing him down further on your body.

“Patience…”, he cooed.

“I-I don’t have that”, you breathed, smiling through the heat, “R-right now.”

Daemon laughed at the comment, pressing kisses on your lower belly as you raised your legs the best you could, your dress slipping off your body alongside your small clothes, leaving you finally naked. You sighed in relief at the sensation, you had felt trapped inside the fabric all day. Being bare felt so good, you only wished to rip Daemon’s clothes apart so you could feel his sensitive skin against yours. But for now, the man was focused on something else. His hands moved to your thighs again, wetting his lips

“Have to get you ready.”, he rasped, “Don’t think that tight cunt can take a dragon cock yet.”

You breathed heavily at the comment, the sole idea of his imposing cock had your mouth water, your hips moving up, and shivers sent down your whole body.

“D-do it then.”, you whispered, finger inside your mouth, playing with the saliva on your tongue, a sinful view he could almost come for.

“As my lady commands”, he purred, biting the skin of your inner thigh as you cried his name, hips moving up hoping to meet his mouth.

“How should I do that…”, he murmured against your dripping folds, his low voice echoing against your sensitive skin. He raised his eyes to meet yours again, half closed as you hungrily sucked on your finger. You understood he awaited an answer as he didn’t move.

“With your m-mouth”, you begged, pausing a second, “And your f-fingers.”

He tilted his head, so, so close to your core you wanted to scream to him to eat you out already, the rough skin of his cheek meeting your inner thigh.

“P-please”, you whined, knowing he liked to hear you beg for it.

“Good girl”, he grunted.

You couldn’t quite tell if you cried, moaned or screamed when his lips finally met your cunt. Maybe a mix of all three, maybe none as you muffled yourself. You were too dizzy to tell, his licks hungry and harsh against your throbbing core. Two fingers parted your lips as his tongue lapped at your core, noises wet from your juices against his rough jaw. He moved his mouth up, flicking his tongue around your clit. You gasped at the sensation, lower belly burning from the inside as you let your hips meet the rhythm of his fingers and tongue. Kiss it harshly he let his mouth move down again, digits playing with your entrance as he let his tongue delve in first. You screamed this time, you were so close if he put a single finger inside you, you would come undone around it. Daemon could sense it as he moved backward, catching his breath and observing the messy masterpiece you were. One finger brushed your folds and you nearly passed out when Daemon pushed it in, slowly, painfully.

“M-more”, you whined, any words coming out of your mouth now almost against your will. You wanted every filthy thought to stay inside your mind but you couldn’t keep them locked in as they came out of you with no restrain, “Deeper!” You knew Daemon would love to hear them.

Your walls tightened around him, he moved slowly at first, meeting your hips in a joyful and obscene rhythm. When it got settled inside you, Daemon added another, you whined, throwing your head back against the pillows.

“I know you can take them”, he husked against your cunt, mouth resuming its assault on your oversensitive core, accompanying the harsh pace of his fingers.

His fingers scissored inside, hitting all these spots that had you seeing stars. The heat was unbearable, the ceiling was a beautiful night full of stars and you couldn’t tell what was real anymore, screaming your husband's name as waves of pleasure crashed onto you, stomach flipping when you came around his fingers and mouth. He rode you to your orgasm, almost to coma as his digits wouldn’t stop their aggressive dance inside you. You tried to catch your breath, moaning and crying at the same time.

“I love when you moan my name”, he kissed both your thighs, fingers sliding out of you, “Want to hear you scream it for me.”

Your breast bounced slightly as you finally caught your breath, nipples and skin sensitive as it burned under Daemon’s insatiable stare. His fingers met your mouth, tasting yourself on them as he lowered his head so his tongue could circle your nipples, playing with the soft skin of your breast.

“Bite m-me”, you mumbled, unsure why you asked, you simply wanted to be marked forever.

“If you insist”, he laughed, air hot against your body.

He lowered his head, teeth nibbling at the soft skin of your breast.

“Mark will be for later love”, he whispered, leaving your nipples, moving up again to rest his head against your neck. Your scent was so strong here he almost lost any restrain he thought he didn’t have anymore, “Can’t believe I’m finally going to sink into this sweet cunt, pound it until you come crawling to my feet, begging for it each minutes of your next heat, belly swelling with-”

“O-oh my god shut up and fuck me already!”

Daemon raised his head, face mixed with laughter and confusion. Your impatience certainly aroused and amused him.

“Oh well…”, he commented, lips curling in a teasing smile, “I was just planning what I would do to you…”

“G-get inside!”, you whined, legs around his waist, pulling him closer, the leather grazing your wet and sensitive core.

“Oh because my Lady knows how it’s… done now?”, he laughed, “Where did your innocence go.”, he raised an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips as he undid his top in haste, throwing the fabric somewhere on the floor.

“Took your cock enough in my mouth to know it’s supposed to go in holes.”

Daemon's mouth parted open and closed immediately. Instead a silent laugh was stuck in his throat, definitely amused by your filthy words.

“So my sweet girl knows what it does to take her Alpha’s cock during heat, hm?”, he teased, towering you, his dark eyes scanning your body, already imagining himself buried so deep inside your cunt would take the form of his cock, and his only.

Your eyes wandered in the room as you heard him undoing his pants, sliding out of them with ease. You knew… some things. You had heard things, from how big and pleasurable an Alpha’s cock was supposed to be, from how you were made to take it as an Omega.

“If my baby girl doesn’t know, I might just show her.”

You observed him, finally naked under your hungry gaze, his length in hand, fierce and angry. His fingers at the base, slowly stroking it. Instinctively you parted your legs open, you had left his waist so he could undress, but now you were more than ready for him, naturally wet enough so he could get seated in easily. A hand came to rest on your elevated knee while the other left his erection to push your other knee down on the bed, giving him a perfect sight and angle.

“Ready when you are”, he grunted, head of his cock lustfully brushing your dripping folds.

You nodded frantically, gasping at the friction. You were burning, melting, your body had just been tossed in a fire pit at the sight of his shaft and the only thing you had in mind was to take it like you were told to be. Your mouth watered, you wanted more, more and more. You wanted him, all of him.

“I want you inside me”, you finally spoke.

“Don’t worry”, he grunted against your ear as you felt the head pressing in, “I’ll take all of you.”

Your lips parted away perfectly for him. Like you were told, you were meant for your Alpha’s cock. And he did not lie, he was here, and so he did take all of you. Breath left your lungs as he pushed in, you felt every inch, it was never ending. When his hips met yours, his balls gently brushing your skin, you let out a loud gasp. For a few seconds you both didn’t move, savoring the very moment you had awaited for so long. So this was the feeling you craved for so much time, the one he told you so much about. All the nights whispered the filthiest things in your ears for you to finally have him buried so deep, for him to be so huge inside you wondered how he even got in at first.

“Fuck”, he groaned, “Tight, fucking tight just like I told you you would be, right love?”

You couldn’t speak, you just nodded, whining against his scars as you pressed your leg on his waist. When he moved backward slightly, you felt every veins, his size stretching you open again. He groaned and you whined, crying for your Alpha. He buried his hand in your scent, moving his cock in and out in a steady and controlled pace at first, delighted. It wasn’t painful, it felt just right. His rhythm grew erratic and harsh as his hips pounded against yours, his shaft hitting deeper and deeper at each motions.

Your lips met his in a wet kiss, saliva mixed with sweat. His hands found yours, fingers intertwined against the bed as he fucked your rough but lovingly, noises of skin against skin echoing in the room, filling your ears until you could only hear it and nothing else.

“I love you”.

The words felt right too, between a slow motion backward and a harsh push following, both your fingernails digging in each other’s hands. You fucked both your hips against one another at a hungry, unstoppable pace. You felt him grow larger and larger inside, cock pulsing, throbbing against your tight walls, clenching around his length.

“I’ll n-never”, he panted, breathing heavily with each thrust, getting closer to climax and feeling his knot grow bigger inside, “Ever leave you.”

You whined, cried his name, his status, any words that fitted his ego. He felt delicious inside, you felt delirious outside. Your skin burned against his, stinging at every place, your core dripping around his shaft, welcoming him again and again each time he pounded in. Your second orgasm approached fast as he worked you to it relentlessly. Shivers coursed through your entire body as it threatened to give up under his weight.

“D-daemon!”, you yelled, legs crossed around his waist, pressing him harder against you, hoping he would still hit deeper with each time he slammed in. You cried out as you reached your climax, body melting under his touch like his hands were everywhere on you at once. Your legs shook around him, his pace growing irregular.

His breaths were erratic, words leaving his mouths, sounds that made no sense to you as your eyes closed, feeding yourself off his groans and his cock growing so much you thought it could never leave your aching cunt. He pushed a few more times, hitting these sweet spots inside, knot buried so deep to places you both thought weren’t attainable. Head buried in your neck, his teeth met your soft skin as he dug in, marking you until it drew blood. You whined at the sensation, overwhelming your already sensitive body. Daemon groaned, mouth leaving your neck, vision fading to black when with one last thrust he spilled deep in you, your walls clenching around him, hot seed settled inside as you milked every last drop from him.

The atmosphere was heavy, loud breaths cradling you both as you stayed here, melted against one another, embraced forever.

“Oh”, you whispered, your breath taken away, “I-It feels…”

He laughed, kissing your cheeks gently, resting inside you, keeping the seed buried deep down, his knot still pulsing.

“Huge.”, you finished. You feared that any motions would tear you apart as you welcomed him in your arms.

“You’ll have to be a bit patient, sweet girl”, he cooed against your temple, “Keep your husband warm, would you?”

You nodded, lips meeting his in a tired but loving kiss. You rested a few minutes there, until you felt him move slightly, his cock not as huge as before.

“Daemon?”, you seeked out happily, his eyes closed as he breathed peacefully.

“I am going to be carrying your children?”, you tilted your head innocently, meeting his lilac eyes.

“Oh Gods”, he whispered, fake worry on his face, “I fear you might.”

You laughed as you pushed his shoulders away, his face brushing your own, a teasing kiss on your flushed cheeks. You breathed each other’s air for a few minutes, until he safely moved out of you. You whined at the loss, but still happily hummed as he planted a kiss on your temple.

“You did great”, he reassured, hand meeting your head, brushing it gently.

“I think you did too.”

He smirked, straightening up on the bed.

“Think?”, he frowned his eyebrow, “I did amazing.”, he pouted.

You laughed loudly, arms raised toward him as an invitation. He smiled as he pushed the sheets resting under you, covering your overwhelmed body with the soft fabric as he laid next to you again. Daemon opened his arms, you came to rest on his chest, his breaths rocking you to sleep, his lips meeting your forehead, an arm around your shoulders to shield you from the outside cold of the room.

“Let’s do that again, no interruption. Never again”, he whispered against your skin as you let yourself be taken by exhaustion into a delightful and dreamful night into your loving husband’s arms.

#daemon x you #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x you #fluff #angst #smut #fics #**mine #6K WORDS (??)#I need to be sedated

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she-is-27-i-checked · 3 months ago

Note

So we’ve talked ships. What are your favourite tropes? What ao3 tags make you go 👀👀👀?

Yey! I got an ask!! Somebody likes me {{swoons}}....

WELL... ((brain starts whirring because it's like choosing between my many mistresses))

I love a bit of good old friends to lovers, slow burn (checking the word count for LIES), a bit of yearning, a bit of "it's requited but they are idiots". (Warrior Nun fandom is a wealth of this, slow and relatively angst free and just a lovely slide into inevitability). Excellent with a side of "only one bed" or "they were roommates!".

I'm also a big fan of crack fic, particularly smutty crack, which is rare but I love it. Happy Divorced Wife, Happy Divorced Life by birgittesilverbae is a great example. Ooh ooh or Insubordination which is an Anonymous Motherland Fort Salem fic which is just.... ❤️‍🔥

And if we want to get adult about this, anything with sex dreams (yes that scene in The Miseducation of Cameron Post has permanently rewired my brain, what of it), and if I can find a writer willing to overcome their own inevitable praise kink to write a good bit of consensual degradation I will marry them instantly. There's a line in one very good Last Tango in Halifax fic where character B is getting railed by the very condescending and magnificent character A, and character A goes. "touch yourself then, I haven't got all day" and both I and character B just turn into this 🥴. (I should find a link for this maybe I can lure some people into a niche British fandom...)

I am allergic to kid fic and long-term-married-couple fic for obvious reasons...

#yey i got an ask!!#fic recs

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emilykaldwen · 6 months ago

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

Rating: Explicit

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

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

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Author's Note: We've got Rhaenyra POV! We've got Aemond POV! We've got a surprise in the end! Thank you for all the support and patience. You're all getting this chapter early since I'm out of town for the weekend! Enjoy!

PLEASE PLEASE subscribe to the series page or my author page so you get updates when we start the next story! You're not going to want to miss it. (And follow @emkald-fic on tumblr if you read here!)

All my love to @vampire-exgirlfriend for her love and support and holding my hand through this chapter that just kept kicking my fucking ass. If you need more Aemond content, you must read, They Say I killed You (Haunt Me Then)! Now complete! (epilogue going up soon!)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - Parrying the Daggers Thrown At Us

Rhaenyra receives a letter. Aemond cannot find peace until he gets a taste of it.

Grandfather is still ill, much like we saw him last but he prefers his wheel chaired more oft than not…

Things have been tense, understandably so, but Queen Alicent has been cordial and has made sure we are comfortable and have what we need…

Aegon and Aemond keep their distance, perhaps so they can glare all the better…

I do not know how to make amends for what happened…

…and they say Aemond is taken by his pains at times, darkening his room as his head aches from his wound…

I should make amends, it is right…

What do you think I should do?...

Heleana has been the warmest…

…we danced together at the feast and she was quite happy to do so. It is nice spending time with her…

Aegon is happy around Lady Abrogail and she laughs freely with him. He is not like how he used to be as much with her…

I think Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin would be pleased to see how well she is treated…

Many houses were represented at Aegon’s nameday…

Most seemed to wonder if Aegon would have been named heir and displace you but none came to pass…

…they will inherit Harrenhal. I can see the wisdom in it as Luke will have Driftmark one day, but I think of Joffrey and Aegitsos and my uncles who do not have lands and holds to occupy them…

I love you much, Muñus, I hope you are well and that I will see you soon…

Rhaenyra ran her fingers over her son’s careful script, her mouth twitching in fondness amidst her worry of her zēapos. His letter was long, too much for a raven’s wings and she started from the beginning once she had read it through once. Twice. Her ribs ached as if Jace had been carved out of her to go on this journey and she shook her head, trying to let the feeling flit away on the breeze. Her eldest had a temper, much as she did in her youth, much as his father had, in the ways that drew her in. Time stole away much, and her own bouts of temper had cooled with each broken toy, each yelling fight, each ‘he pulled my hair!’ and ‘He pushed me and won’t share!’

The sounds of swords clanged in the yard and her gaze flitted from her son’s letter - pages crinkled in her grasp - to the courtyard below where Daemon was testing the new recruits to the Dragonstone guard. His silver hair was twisted back from his face in braids as he preferred, something about war and mindset and always be prepared.

He called something towards Joff and Aegitsos as the knight before him panted, having been bested against her husband.

Baela had not written, that much she knew, though Jace had said that she had found a friend in Helaena after a tense standoff. Rhaenyra had found the mention of it surprising, for her little sister, in the times she’d been around her, had been a quiet thing, eyes large in her face, gaze flitting to everyone and no one.

Helaena has been the warmest…

Helaena was not yet married. The match with Aegon had never come to pass.

The invitation lay on the table before her next to the plate of lemon cake she liked for her morning meal on days such as this.

The wedding of Prince Aegon of House Targaryen and Lady Abrogail Strong of Harrenhal…

In five moons, the spectacle would be held in the Riverlands. In five moons, the realm would look upon her brother once more, peacocked and pulled out, as Daemon sneered, by Otto Hightower to show him off as a contender, to put pressure on her father to change his mind. Her father had nearly twenty years to change his mind and still, he had not. Not even in her absence, cowardly as it sometimes felt to retreat and lick her wounds, had her father’s support of the claim and her family seemed to waver. Try as the Hightowers might to scream and spread slanders that would call for bloodshed, her father still would not be swayed. It was the sense of satisfaction that she had felt when he came to her defense in that shadowed hall those years ago, the heated of curl in it that no matter what, there could be no question as to his choice.

He had chosen her.

Even as the feeling waned over time to give over to those moments where she doubted, all the times he had failed to reign his wife in with her abuses and vitriol, the words her son had sent her bolstered her.

I think Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin would be pleased…

Harwin’s little sister, big blue eyes and red curls bound in braids, peeking curiously over the edge of Lucerys’ cradle next to Jace because ‘She asked if she could see the baby and give him this,’ Harwin had said, as the little girl presented her attempts at embroidering a little dragon on a pillow. Little Abrogail, half Harwin’s, half Alicent’s. She had tried to bring the girl to Dragonstone with them. Would she not be happier away from the court politics with her brother and the quiet? Lord Lyonel had given her a surprised, then hard look, and Rhaenyra had felt chastened in a way her own father had never been able to evoke within her.

“I will keep my daughter with me, and should I send her away, it will be back to her home, at Harrenhal, with her brother.”

Grief washed through her like the crashing of the waves on the rocky shore below and she felt her own jagged edges inside of her. Lyonel Strong had been the best of them, putting the realm first, always by her side at every council meeting she attended, encouraging her, even as his face grew graver with each brunette curled boy she bore.

Violet eyes swept across the parchment again. A servant in the camp had tried to attack the girl, Jace said. Crept into her tent, assuming she would have been alone. Inquiries were being made, but as far as anyone could see, the man had just been a baseborn servant - blending in like no other. Rhaenyra pursed her lips and looked down at the training yard once more, fingers drumming along the stone ledge of the terrace.

She wondered how wrapped around Lady Abrogail’s finger her half-brother might be… and how opportune this moment was.

Alicent’s eldest was marrying and taking a seat in the Riverlands. It was not the bold choice that Rhaenyra had thought would happen. Surely one of the many Lannister girls, or one of the Baratheons - a great house who would be invested in their own daughter becoming queen would have made more sense.

Harrenhal, for the wealth and lands that it had, did not command armies the way the Stormlands did. It did not have endless coffers the way Casterly Rock boasted of. It was a moody fortress on the edge of the God’s Eye, surrounded by lush farmland and woods that were dark and deep and felt that you were somewhere fanciful, somewhere that didn’t hold dragons nor thrones, nothing except for a warm hand wrapped around her own.

The clashing and screaming of steel in the yard below pulled Rhaenyra from her thoughts, and away from the path of her sorrows and regrets. Turning her back to the sight below, she reached for her own parchment and quill, pushing aside the letter from Lord Celtigar.

Lady Abrogail… Good tidings on news of your approaching nuptials…

Aemond pursed his lips, his gaze rising from the book before him, a study on the Conqueror’s approach to the first Dornish war,to squint across the barrel room near the top of the tower that held the library in the Holdfast. He drummed his fingers upon the scarred wooden table, a fingertip running along the crescent burn from the time Abby had accidentally knocked over a candle while they were reading about Harren the Black.

He exhaled slowly, the way the Braavosi manuals advised and looked back at his book.

It had been weeks since his brother’s festivities, and the chill of the end of the growing season had crept in. It was not cold by northern standards, but the air cooled, the rains rolled in for the next several months, and angry storms fell over them from the Narrow Sea, their winds piercing and frightening, as if they were dragons themselves in the winds that the Storm God rode, threatening to tear apart the Red Keep brick by brick.

Helaena’s nameday had passed with quiet fanfare, the lingering lords of the realm who had not left parading their sons in front of his maiden sister. As if any of them were worthy of a dragonrider, someone as clever and kind as Helaena.

It had been complicated over the past weeks since the talk in the garden, and Aemond still wasn’t entirely sure how he felt. What had been most surprising had been the strange sense of release when his sister let him go, leaving him to sit in the rain before Visenya’s statue, her words ringing in his ears.

‘I would burn Dorne for you… but I do not want to leave behind a world of ash and bone.’

How desperate Helaena had looked, angry and frightened and full of hope as she begged not to have a husband, but a brother back. ‘How else am I supposed to protect her?' he had wondered. How else could he offer his sister protection and security if it wasn’t to marry her, to tie her to him so that she would never have to fear, never have to doubt her acceptance and those who loved her?

Aegon had not wanted to marry her. She was weird, he’d sneered. How miserable Helaena would be, how miserable they both would have been. Aemond had done the right thing. He’d stepped up, he had gotten Mother and The Tower to break the betrothal. Even if they had not promised him and Helaena to one another, that was alright, it would simply be a matter of time.

He had Vhagar. There could be no further doubt that he was truly a Valyrian. There could be no more doubt as to his place in the world. All that was left was his sister.

Guilt gnawed deep in his stomach, shame twisting around his throat when the thought filtered through. Helaena was not a bauble he needed to collect to prove something. Collecting her was not protecting her. Collecting her was not about her, but for him, and it was this knowledge that he had thought about constantly.

His sister deserved more than being a broodmare, to be a pawn in the games. The forced distance the last few weeks had given him, after Helaena pushed him from the proverbial nest, had left him unsettled and snappish.

The loud thud of a book hitting the stone floor reverberated through the room. A heavy tome, judging from the heft of the sound, followed by a soft giggling, a deeper snickering sound chasing after it before they muffled and fell quiet.

He knew, with the utmost certainty, why it had fallen quiet.

Ever since the betrothal, the grip on his best friend had been slipping. Oh, him and Abrogail were an unlikely pair, but few appreciated books and history as his cousin did. While digging in the dirt and helping Helaena catalog her collection had been fulfilling, there was something joyous in being able to have someone who understood the quiet and sanctity of the library, and who loved books and reading and learning as he did. Lyonel Strong had always indulged his questions when was young - far more enthralling than Mellos and Orwyle were, and he had fostered that curiosity in his daughter.

‘All she’s going to care about is making babies with Aegon!’ Helaena had cried, frustrated and angry when they’d been alone after the fight in the brothel.

There was a soft cry, and Aemond scowled at his book before his chair scraped across the stone floor and he strode purposefully towards the source of the sound. The histories of the Riverlands were there - not just observational books, but the census, the trade information, things used by the small council’s not-quite-so-small army of clerks and counters and lawmakers. The section of the library that Abby had frequented since the announcement and that he had helped her with.

“Not here,” came the whispered whine, laced with laughter. Aemond rolled his eye as he turned the corner of the aisle. It was shadowed somewhat this far down, The strategically polished silver angled to bounce the light around so as not to pose a fire risk among the precious books, although the day was gray and cloudy and the light reflected was that of a lamp. Abby was pressed against the bookshelves, the blue and silver brocade of her skirts rucked up with her stockings on display, her legs at present, wrapped around his stupid brother’s waist. One arm was stretched out to grab onto the bookshelf behind her, and the fallen book that had been in its place was still on the ground. Aegon’s face was buried into her chest, or maybe her throat?

He was half-blind, after all, sometimes details could be mercifully missed. Or ignored.

“This,” Aemond said, his voice even and dripping with every ounce of annoyance and betrayal he felt, “is the library, not a brothel.”

Aemond’s fists clenched at the disrespect both of them displayed to a place they knew was important to him. At the announcement of his presence, Abby squeaked, Aegon’s arms tightening around her as she scrambled to lower herself without sending them both toppling. He held his arms folded behind his back, his hand scraping along his elbow as the pair of them got themselves in order and he shook his head when Aegon looked at him, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth. Abby had turned to straighten her gown.

“Are you really going to act like this?” Aegon said, for it was barely a question. “We weren’t in front of you and your book. You were the one seeking us out.”

“Because you both weren’t as quiet as you thought you were,” Aemond snapped. “It was distracting.”

A lazy smirk crossed across his brother’s flushed face and he wanted to punch him square in his stupid nose. Let him kiss his future wife with his face bashed in. “Well, my lady is distracting-.” There was a soft sound as Abby smacked Aegon’s shoulder, cutting him off with an exaggerated ow, the flinch was nowhere near the violent response that inhabited his brother when it was their mother doing the hitting. She peered around Aegon’s shoulder, her mouth just as swollen, her cheeks just as flushed and her features apologetic.

“We’re sorry, Aemond. Things just got out of hand. I shouldn’t have-”

“Don’t you apologize,” Aegon interrupted her this time, a fierce look on his face.

“No, actually,” Aemond cut in, taking a step forward, using the few inches he now had on his brother to straighten his shoulders. “She’s right. Thank you, Abby, for apologizing. Are you upset that she has to apologize for you, since your self-awareness is worse than a billy goat ramming his head into things?”

Aegon’s mouth gaped in offense, his flush deepening. There was a bruise along his neck that was going to be difficult to hide. The glib nature of his eldest brother was a trial at the best of times, but this? “You know this isn’t your place to run about as you please. Shall I just unlock my doors, let you roll around in my sheets and over my personal things while you’re at it?”

“It’s the fucking library, Aemond. It doesn’t belong to you-”

Abby let out a startled cry as Aemond’s fist shot out, but as much as he would love to punch his brother, he shoved him instead, feeling the crackling of frustration, the rumble of Vhagar in his chest. “Because it’s all yours, is that it? You mewling fucking kitten. This isn’t just my library, it’s hers too, but you don’t fucking care about anything that means something to anyone else if it gets in the way of what your limp cock wants.”

“Aemond, truly, we’re sorry - Aegon, no!” Abby’s voice was lost in Aegon’s growl as his brother came back with another shove, sending him back a few steps. Aemond laughed, a hint of a sound like the thin scrape of wind whistling through a crack. Yes, yes let the idiot push him around. Let him continue to pull his friend away from him, from him and Helaena both. His gaze darted briefly to the redhead, blue eyes wide as she pressed herself back against the shelves, before meeting his brother’s lighter gaze.

“You are a glib fucking fool, Aegon,” Aemond said lowly, his mouth curling as he readied for a fight, needing to expend the burn of flame inside of him. “I don’t care what the pair of you do, I’ll say nothing should Mother hear of it, but-” he stepped forward and shoved Aegon hard into the bookstack. The ancient wood creaked and groaned, but the stacks were bolted to the floor to prevent them from topping. A few books fell from the force of Aegon’s frame smacking into it. “Stay the hell out of my library.”

He did not look over his shoulder, even as Abby called his name, apology rife in her tone. He strode through the halls, calling for his horse to be saddled while he went to angrily pull on his riding leathers. The left side of his temple ached as it was wont to do when his face was full of tension. Helaena would make him tea, protect him in the quiet, but that was not meant to be today. The last he saw, his sister was in the gardens with Jacaerys.

How he ached to wring the stupid bastard’s neck.

How bright he seemed to make Helaena laugh.

How betrayed Aemond felt by it all.

Why hadn’t Helaena said anything? Why hadn’t she told him that she didn’t want to be married? Why had she just let him wander around like a puppy and now left the fool?

‘But hadn’t she told you?’ a little voice drifted through Aemond’s mind and he paused in the lacing of his leathers. Had she not told him by pursuing that fool Warren Fossoway, and the time that he had spied her kissing him - for he had seen Helaena push the squire behind the carved dragon pillar by the gardens.

‘But she would let me kiss her, she would kiss me, and she’d touch me and I her and-’ The flurry of thoughts ached as he pulled on his boots.

It would not hurt as much if it was anyone but Jacaerys.

The ride to the beach beneath the shadow of the Red Keep was a blur. The rock outcropping of Aegon’s High Hill was a craggy, sheer thing, but the beach below was one that Vhagar enjoyed sunning herself, a guard dog laying at the foot of the bed in a way. Her head lifted as Aemond approached, lowing in greeting and shaking sand from her scales. The tension in Aemond’s chest began to ease at the sight of her, and he approached, patting a gloved hand along her scarred neck, scratching along a vicious scar she must have received in Dorne. There were no words exchanged, not the way Aegon chattered with Sunfyre. Aemond’s bond with Vhagar was one of feeling, of such deep understanding that no words needed to spill from him. In no time, he scaled her great bulk and yelled out the command to fly, which his dragon responded with her own, what he assumed was excited, call in return.

Vhagar landed on the cliffs on the western side of Massey’s Hook, the bay below dotted with smaller fishing boats this far out from King’s Landing and away from the bustle of the capital. Rage and grief, anger and fear were a tempest in his gut and he rankled at the call of Moondancer as his cousin circled above them.

If Baela wanted this fight, then he would meet her, unflinching. Let her see what dragons were made of. They did not all reside on Dragonstone.

“Laodijes peldios!” Baela howled at him, her voice a sharp shout on the breeze, her face twisted and ugly with fury, fists at her side as she readied herself to hit him should he get within reach.

Aemond glared at her, the distance between them shrunk now to an arm length. Vhagar was a great shadow behind him and he could feel the sulfuric heat of her breath as she exhaled buffeting at his back. Moondancer was a little ways away, shrieking fearfully and Aemond could not tell if the dragon reflected her rider’s mood, or her fear of Vhagar.

“You’re a fucking fool. Daemon Targaryen is your father, your mother a Velaryon, and you still don’t realize that a dragon cannot be stolen.”

“You had no fucking right!” Baela snarled. “Vhagar was for Rhaena to claim-”

“If Vhagar had not wanted me, she would have eaten me and you damn well know it.” Aemond cut her off, watching her jaw click shut with a curl of satisfaction. “Vhagar chose me, not your sister. What? You want to kill me to give her another chance at claiming her? Is that what you’re here? To finish the job that you all started?”

“Why would my mother’s dragon choose you?” Balea cried, and this time, there was a choked quality to her rage. Aemond’s eye widened slightly and he leaned back from her, a curl of uncertainty that he despised. His words had been harsh, full of the anger that he had felt simmering these past years. Aemond shrugged it off. He had earned his harshness in this. He’d been the one attacked, the band of them setting upon him simply because he chose to claim his right as a Valyrian prince.

‘Why would my mother’s dragon choose you?’

Aemond ran his tongue over his teeth and leaned back on his foot, watching Baela gasp for air amidst her choking sobs, and turn from him to look out to the bay, towards Driftmark and High Tide.

He remembered his mother’s cries, her rage, her such careful and elegant control snapping as her voice cracked in the silence of the Hall of Nine.

“He’s your son, Viserys.”

“Why did Moondancer choose you?” Aemond asked. “Why did Moondancer choose you, and my egg never hatched?” Baela did not look at him but he could see the way her shoulders tensed. “Why didn’t you go find the guards? Why did you come, thinking a thief had stolen a dragon and Jacaerys brought his blade? Why did they give me a pig, pretending they had found me a dragon as they both had their own? Why did they do nothing but terrorize me with that fact for our childhoods?”

Aegon had done it too, gone in on the fun, drunk on being the eldest. It had lessened considerably in the wake of Rhaenyra leaving the capital, even if his brother sought other ways to tease him - he’d never again mentioned his lack of dragon.

Aegon had come to him in his sick bed, his curls shorn, red eyed and puffy faced, tears on his cheeks, had knelt at his bedside and vowed to him.

“We protect our own and I did not protect you. I do not care if you’ve claimed Vhagar, for I was not there for you when you needed me. It will never happen again. I will protect you. I will be by your side.”

Aemond had sometimes wondered how much of the words were his brother’s own, but he had known, with certainty, that the feelings were genuine. His brother was an idiot, and they butted heads, but his brother loved him in his own way, and for as angry as Aegon could make him, he loved him too. In his own way.

He might admit that on his deathbed, unlike Aegon, who would only need to be in the depths of his cups and into the sad and tearful mourning edge.

“What do you know, Baela?” Aemond said, his voice even, coldness creeping along the edges. “Of fighting and scraping for everything that is owed to you?” He forcefully bit his tongue, copper exploding in his mouth as he broke skin, to keep from pressing further at the loss of her birth right to Driftmark for Rhaenyra’s folly.

“A prince has to scrape for all that is owed to him.” It was rhetorical, biting, and Aemond snorted, taking a step forward, his own gaze looking out at the water.

“You may have been an idiot child, but don’t play me for a fool.” It was impossible not to see how little Viserys thought of his second family, and he had seen it plainly on Jacaerys’ face, the surprise in witnessing it. “I’m sure your father relishes every word you send to him. His little spy.”

Baela’s lip curled in a snarl and she stalked closer. Aemond stayed where he was, watching her with a narrowed eye as Vhagar let out a low growl behind him. She did not move, did not lift her head, but her nostrils flared and Aemond felt the heat of her breath swirl around him. Baela’s eyes widened, and she paused, the indigo of them shining with tears.

He turned his head slightly to look at Vhagar. “Ȳgha iksi,” he reassured her, feeling Vhagar’s displeasure seeping through him, her warning and the remembered rage from those years ago when she could not protect him or take away his pain. He reached for her snout, pressing his hand to the scar above her left nostril, rubbing against it. He turned his back to his cousin and brought his other hand up, feeling the anger hot as coals, hot as dragonfire in his chest. Vhagar was full of tension. He could feel it. Would she feel that way if it wasn’t him? If she was not so worried for him, would she recognize the girl behind him as the child that Laena Velaryon surely brought to her, as Aemond would have brought his own child? Had his grandfather, Baelon, brought his sons to this dragon before them?

The silence filled the air around them, the wind thick with tension. Aemond pressed his forehead to Vhagar, took strength from her, squeezed his eye shut and ignored the pain that lanced through his head and pulsed behind his scar.

The sob behind him was soft, and Moondancer’s cry was mournful.

“He’s your son, Viserys.”

“I did not mean to tarnish your mother’s memory,” Aemond finally spoke, his voice carrying as he looked, blind side towards Baela. “It was not done to hurt you, or to take something from you. It was… It was my only chance. And it’s something I don’t think you’ll ever be able to understand. I am… I am sorry about the loss of your mother. I did not have the opportunity to give you my condolences then, but I can give them to you now.”

The sound Baela made was strangled. Aemond turned to look at her. Baela was stiff beneath her red and black riding leathers, the metal rings in her hair tinkling as the wind tugged at her braids. He recalled the mourning child she had been sitting by her twin and Jace, the vicious yell she’d let out when she punched him in the nose that night, the howls and scream of pain. He felt Vhagar twitch and groan beneath his touch, another warning and he hushed her again, stroking her snout. He watched her gaze go towards Moondancer, who was crying fitfully, grounded still, her aquamarine wings more green against the lush grass of the clifftop.

“Do you want to pet her?”

Baela stared at him, the hostile lines to her face instantly slacking in surprise. “Skoro syt?” Her voice was small and wary, even as her eyes were wide with grief.

“My condolences,” Aemond repeated, and he found the words genuine. It was not Baela, nor her sister, or even his bastard nephews that rankled him. Oh, he wanted his revenge, He wanted what was due, but more of the blame lay with his eldest sister and their father. Of that, Aemond was secure in. He would gladly feed them both to Vhagar, to take an eye as payment for his mother.

His cousin shifted on her booted feet before whatever compelled her brought her forward. Aemond shifted, beckoning her to take her place by his side as he murmured words to Vhagar. Baela had taken her glove off, her slim, tanned hand reaching tentatively up before resting along the scar on Vhagar’s nostril.

They stood there for how long, Aemond was not sure, quietly beside one another as Baela grieved for the mother at the bottom of the Narrow Sea, and his own grief at what was taken from him.

“Do not mourn me, mother…”

‘But mourn the boy dead on Driftmark.’

It was not lightness or peace that settled over Aemond when he and his cousin parted later. He was not certain how much time had passed, only that after she had sobbed, they sat there in a strange, companionable silence eating hunks of bread and cheese and apple that Baela cut with a wicked blade. She did not give him thanks, she did not say anything, but Aemond took the offering of shared food as her own gesture of whatever truce was settled between them. The exchanged curt nods before parting, Baela northeast and away from the city to what Aemond assumed was High Tide and her grandmother and twin, while he circled back towards the city.

Aemond was not certain of the feeling he held except that it felt like he had scratched something out on a list, or deposited a burden that he was trying to carry with all his other, more cumbersome burdens. It was a closed door. That was enough for Aemond, and there was a part of him that wanted to march to his sisters and tell them that he had made nice, to have Abby’s warm smile proud with him, and Helaena’s little clap and promptly being the receiver of her latest mountain spider that Uncle Rodrik had brought her.

Instead, after entering the inner courtyard of the Red Keep and handing off his horse to one of the stablehands, he made his way to the gardens and to his own preferred solitude when the library - so recently desecrated - was not an option. No, Aemond needed air, he needed the statue of Visenya to look down upon him. There, where Helaena had snipped the strings and released him from the vow he had made, the goal that held him that was more about him than it truly was about her.

Where his sister had set him free, and he loved her all the more for it.

The problem, he found, upon striding down the paved path and through the dripping ivy, was that his garden was not, in fact, as empty as he hoped. Wylla Karstark was kneeled in front of a bush of hyacinths, carefully cutting the purple blooms and placing them in a basket beside her. She was clad in a dove gray dress, the black fabric of her kirtle beneath poking out through slashes along her shoulders and puffed at her elbows. Her fox features were pinched in concentration and Aemond watched her for a moment, silent as she had clearly not heard his approach.

Wylla Karstark was an unknown. She was pretty enough, with a long nose and sharp jaw, gray eyes that flashed when she was annoyed, which was the majority of the time. She had a rather frustrating talent of being able to look down at him even as she had to arch her neck, for she was as petite as Abby was. Their joint misfortune, just like Aegon’s. She was also well read, their conversation at the feast turning from a mutual annoyance to discussing the book of poetry that he had seen her reading, which itself had turned into a rather long and in depth conversation on the Valyrian poet, Praxilla, whose work had survived by the grace of her living the life of leisure in Lys when the Doom happened. Wylla and his elder brother unknowingly shared a fondness for drinking songs penned by the scribe, although Aemond was smart enough to know he shouldn’t bring that up.

Not until he needed to.

“It is polite to speak when coming upon someone, Your Grace,” Wylla’s northern burr was arch as she focused on her task. “I would curtsy, but you can see I’m already on my knees.”

Aemond’s cheeks flushed at the turn of her words, and he was not certain if she understood how they could be taken. He decided that she didn’t, for she did not turn to look at him, seemingly unbothered. All for the best, he supposed, for Aemond did not think he could meet her gaze should she be facing him.

“Why are you cutting my flowers?”

“Your flowers, Your Grace?” Wylla laughed, a sharp, lilting sort of sound and he wondered if that’s what she sounded like when she sang. Did she sing? He had not asked her. “These flowers belong to Queen Visenya, for it is her garden, is it not?”

“It is my garden,” he pushed back, frowning at the back of her head, the mass of thick, twisted black braids kept in place with a woven, pearl hair net with wicked looking, pearl tipped hair pins to keep the heaviness of it in place. He flexed his hands, wiping them on his riding leathers as he approached. There were other flowers in her basket, like wisteria and some of the roses from the main garden. He sat, bending his one leg to rest an arm on while the other reached in.

Up close, he could see the red flush to her pale cheeks. He did not recall them looking so red when he saw her the day before, outside of the bit of sun all the girls had gotten during the sun.

Her smack was quick, the sound of flesh stinging flesh loud and he immediately pulled back with a hiss and a glare. “How dare-”

“Those aren’t for you,” Wylla said forcefully, the gray eyes of her bright in her face as she finally looked at him. “They’re for Lady Abrogail.”

Aemond had killed a man for the fox-faced woman before him without hesitation, and the knowledge of it settled in him still, generally buried over the past few weeks because he had no idea what to do about it. They’d been attacked in the night, and Wylla Karstark had shoved a knife between the man’s ribs without hesitation. So tall, Wylla Karstark seemed, so loud, filling up the spaces she was in without holding herself back, that he had so often forgotten how small she was.

Until she was there, in front of him, those gray eyes like the storm ridden ocean.

Aemond held her gaze, reaching back into the basket to pluck one of the deep purple, nearly blue anemones that she had gathered, twirling it idly between his long fingers before reaching up to tuck it behind her ear. Wylla was still beside him, her red painted mouth parted slightly, so he could see the flash of her white teeth behind it. Her cheeks deepend in their red to match the paint on her lips and Aemon hummed.

Abby had been understandably shaken. Knowing her as long as he did, even with the smiles affixed to her face, he knew the signs as intimately as he understood Helaena’s or Aegon’s, or his own mother’s. Wylla Karstark was a mystery. She had been quiet, from what he had seen, but the wedding preparations had taken up much time with the girls, as well as her brother finally leaving the capital earlier that week.

He clenched his jaw, a muscle ticking, before he met her gaze. “Are you alright?”

Her inhale was loud. It trembled and she pressed her red lips together, her throat bobbing with a swallow and looked back at the flowers but did not move to cut anymore. Aemond did not push her, but only waited.

“Yes? No? Strangely yes,” she finally whispered. “I think that’s what bothers me more.”

“That bastard came in with intent to harm,” Aemond said. “If you didn’t kill him, someone else would have. You were incredibly brave.” None knew where he’d come from. The assailant had been clad in the same red garb as the rest of the servants. A baseborn man. Waters or Storm, Aemond couldn’t remember, much like he had no memory of the man’s face before he stared down at it, red and wheezing before he killed him.

“At least it wasn’t Aegon,” Wylla whispered, her eyes wide, drawing his attention back to her. “What would have that turned into - him sneaking in for them to slobber all over each other. Me thinking he was an attacker and-”

The snort of laughter that escaped Aemond at the idea of it all could not be held back. He bent his head, gasping for air as his shoulders shook and it was only a moment before Wylla’s own peel of laughter joined his. It had been some weeks since he’d laughed, in the wake of what happened at the hunt drying up what little humor he’d indulged in. There was an infectious quality to Wylla Karstark’s amusement that he found comforting. Aemond looked at her, her face flushed from her laughter, and he leaned in, kissing her.

The laughter abruptly stopped, her mouth soft against his, still from her clear surprise. She tasted like oranges. Abby must have indulged in the sweet and sour orange cakes they had at the feast. Wylla did not respond, but she didn’t move away either and Aemond took that as acceptance, and he lifted his hand to cup her cheek, thumb swiping softly against the apple of it. Kisses with Helaena had been different - always expected, always ready, with her initiating many of them. The one time he’d kissed Abby, when they were little and Jace had dared him to, did not count. The both of them had made faces, vowing to never do it again.

Kissing Wylla, though? He never wanted to stop, especially not when she reached up, the clippers making a soft thump along the grass to wrap around the end of the braid slung over his shoulder. She tugged it gently and Aemond broke away, blinking and gasping. “What?” he asked. “Should I have not done that?”

“Oh, you should have,” she reassured him, breathless and red faced. She licked her lips and looked at her fingers still wound around his braid, toying with the leather tie. “I was just reminded of something someone told me once.”

He cocked his head, mouth pursed. “What was it?”

The smile that cut across Wylla’s face was amused, the scar along the top of her lip giving a mischievous bend to her small, red mouth. “It was about how dragons purr when you pull their hair.”

Whatever thought started to coalesce about her late night conversation with his sisters was pushed right out when her lips found his.

I would love to hear your thoughts! Even if it's just a keyboard smash! Reblog to spread a story around so others may find it! I would love to hear your theories! What did you love? What are you looking forward to? Happy to have you here as always <3

[Next Chapter]

#hotd tag #house of the dragon #hotd fic #hotd oc #fyeahgotoc #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x oc #aegon x oc #aegon ii targaryen fic #aegon targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen #baela targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #oc: abrogail strong #aegon x abby #abrogon #otp: do not go far from me #man tagging is so annoying #my fics

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aegonbeingfakeisracist · 1 year ago

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hi!

Can you talk more about Arianne and Daemon ? Seriously they are my favorite couple I even have a headcanon that Arianne will be pregnant with Daemon I mean it's more a parallel with Asha's possible pregnancy (pairs between Martells and greyjoys) and Daemons are so fertile hahahaha (Daemon Targaryan Daemon Blackfire) even begin another family but Martin chose the same name and Daemon Sand's father has twins in addition to him...

Anyway I don't see any chance of marriage/ engagement or Arianne's love interest in Aegon it just won't be happening,I see them having a friendship relationship and a strengthening of the family bond , with Ari being a guide for his cousin ( so much potential). This is a bullshit she doesn't want to be queen but Dorne anda her father love. I just want Arianne to be able to be happy white someone who respects her and see her more than just a pretty body and face, and Daemon strikes me as perfect.

I really don't want Arianne to be pregnant because it seems to me like needless drama and just all around bad timing – she's serving as an envoy. There's a war going on. And I feel like her words to Elia kind of apply to her, as well – kiss all the boys you want when you're home in Dorne, but this is so not the time. Sure, she propositions Daemon, but she didn't actually sleep with him. Also, Arianne canonically uses moon tea for birth control. So I'm hopeful there will be no baby unless she lives to the end of the series.

But I think her relationship with Daemon is just so unique in terms of all the relationships we see in the series – they were children doing this entirely on their terms. They were the same age. They just liked each other, and so engaged in a relationship without fear over consequences.

I think in recent years, there's been a weird rise in people forgetting that tropes are tools and not fundamentally good or bad. One of the ways this manifests in particular is hating "childhood friends to lovers" or people winding up with their first love. I don't have hard stances on the kind of relationships in fiction I find interesting or boring. Mostly for me, it's contextual – what is compelling in ASOIAF to me is not the same as what's compelling in another work. And while I certainly agree that there are situations in which a childhood friends to lovers angle may be boring, I think in the ASOIAF context, Arianne and Daemon's childhood sweethearts angle is actually extremely compelling.

For a start, this isn't a people-staying-with-their-middle school-boyfriend-forever scenario. It's the fact Arianne and Daemon had a relationship, broke up, lived near a decade having separate lives with Arianne certainly having other relationships and Daemon probably also doing the same, and are potentially coming back together.

For another, I really, really like what Arianne/Daemon would mean for Arianne as a character. I've said before that she's my favourite ASOIAF character. But even outside of my own personal bias, think about the type of fics that get written about her. It's hard to identify this for certain, because AO3 tagging is just so messy, and navigating through Arianne's tag is a lost cause, but mostly, fic!Arianne is just three sliders of stupidity, horniness, and ambition. Which is just so, so not book Arianne, at all.

Arianne is unique amongst the most important female characters of ASOIAF. She's is not the heir presumptive, she's the heir apparent. Dorne will be hers. And she is a descendant of Nymeria, the most recent in a long line of rulers of Dorne. Her family is central to Dorne's cultural memory, as it was Nymeria and Mors that turned the collection of states into a unified nation. So unlike, say, the Tyrells or Freys, who determinedly pursue these grand matches in a way of compensating for their relatively recent history, Arianne...doesn't really need to do that? Like, she can just marry a bannerman and it would be totally fine.

Furthermore, Arianne clearly has more rights of refusal than most women, and she is not shy about using them - these are real rights she has. I can imagine her feeling more pressure to accept if offered a candidate that wasn't clearly a joke, but given the setting, this is true for everyone. The fact remains, Arianne has options, and since she's going to be a ruling princess, those options are broad.

But despite all of this, her marital prospects are a huge theme. Doran offers her elderly suitors. Daemon and Drey wanted to marry her. There was an entire marriage pact that no one bothered to tell her about. Arianne intends on bartering her own hand, and thinks about how whoever she weds would rule Dorne by her side.

How does all this connect to Daemon? Because he's a nobody. Okay, sure, that's a little extreme – he's a knight, the son of an important lord, and the former squire of a prince. But even though that is the case, he is still a bastard. His father has at least two legitimate children. This isn't a case like Ellaria, in which the set up makes it extremely reasonable to think that her father's land and title will one day fall to her and her daughters - Daemon will not inherit anything. Meaning if Arianne were to marry him, or even just obviously choose him as her partner without a marriage? It would be for her.

There might be some political benefits, given that Daemon is clearly on good terms with his father, but very indirectly, and not nearly to the extent that would be the case with other marital candidates. It cannot be considered anything resembling a political move. So Arianne choosing Daemon would be her taking control over her life, making the choices she wants, for her. It would be her choosing a Dornish spouse that has ties to her family beyond just her alone. It would be her in a position where she can safely choose to make her life with a person that she loves, that isn't the best political choice.

It would be her choosing someone that is deeply, fundamentally tied to Dorne - not just because he's Dornish, but because he is a bastard, because he was once a child in the Water Gardens, because he attended the feast for Balon Swann and did not drink upon the toast to Tommen. Arianne drank. Doran drank. But Daemon did not. Daemon is clearly still in love with Arianne. There is a reason their relationship was never the same after Doran rejected him for her. He loves her enough to serve as her sworn shield and beg her to allow him to go into a dangerous situation in her place. But he has his own mind, and his own beliefs, and his Dornish identity is a big part of that.

We've seen very little of Daemon. But from what we have, he sees Arianne in a way that few do. Doran didn't understand what was going on with her at all. Arys and Areo both clearly had images of her in their heads that didn't quite align with reality. But Daemon, despite their relationship having never recovered fully and despite Doran being so much like Arianne that one would really think he should understand her more than he does, gets her more than anyone else. He understands the strained relationship with Quentyn and that Arianne maybe isn't so desperate to have her little brother return. He sees bits of Arianne in Elia. He literally finishes some of her sentences.

Of all the people Arianne could ever engage in a relationship with, I think Daemon, more than any other character, represents her making her own choices and coming into her own as the ruling princess of Dorne.

#A Song of Ice and Fire #Arianne Martell #Daemon Sand #moongirlgodness #replies

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justgleekout · 11 months ago

Text

The Purrfect Crime

Summary: Kurt and Blaine were, as you say, “partners in crime”, but like, in the opposite sense… They were a long standing duo at the CIA. Headquarters knew they worked best when they worked together, so they just always did.

On their most recent mission however, their professional partnership is being tested as they go undercover as a married couple.

Rating: T

Words: 3,625

Additional tags: Fake Dating, spies!klaine, Friends to Lovers, crack elements, I really tried to be funny, smitten!blaine, Pining, oblivious!kurt?, Or Is he?, Alternate Universe

Notes: This work is a secret santa gift to @spaceorphan18! Merry Christmas!

First of all, I know this is a little late and I'm so sorry! I was struggling (to say the least) to get this done on time. As you can see, this is chapter one, because I just couldn't finish the whole thing and I didn't want you to wait any longer. I was so busy with work it's litereally not funny. I was pulling days from 7am til 9pm at some point. Then, when I started writing my first idea, I came to the realisation that I was including a very significant trope that was the oposit of what you had written on your wish list, so I had to start over... my own stupid mistake. Then, to make matters even worse, I spilled soda all over my laptop and it broke down completely. So I had to continue writing on my phone and ipad with a broken keyboard (I do NOT reccomend). I know, excuses excuses. I'm just bummed I didn't get it done on time. Also I now have to buy a new computer...

All that aside! I hope you like what I've got so far! I got really excited when I saw you wanted spies!klaine! A trope I absolutely love! Just note that I have never really written crack before, but I tried my best to make it fun add many silly elements! And I promise there are a lot more to come in the next part!!

Chapter: 1/?

Read on Ao3

They walked up to the gates of what could only be described as a palace (if America had those). The long and broad driveway behind the gates lead to a building so large and fancy looking, Blaine instinctively straightened his bowtie and readjusted his cufflinks. He knew he looked the part. Headquarters never sent out their agents in anything less than appropriate attire, but he couldn’t help it. He then glanced over at Kurt, who looked like he was a regular at this place, clad in a striking powder blue suit that perfectly brought out the colour of his eyes- no, Blaine, you are on a mission and he is your friend. He had to remind himself more and more frequently of the fact that they were partners in the professional sense only. No matter how gorgeous Kurt looked and how kind he was and how many flirty remarks he made at Blaine.

“Did you get any information on what we are actually attending?” Kurt asked.

“No, chief Sylvester only gave me the location and this invitation.” Blaine held up a piece of royal blue parchment with a broken red and gold wax seal. The text on it was written in golden ink and read:

“ Dear guest,

Recently I received some incredible news concerning someone close to me that has enriched my life. I would like to share this news with you. Therefore, I hereby invite you to attend a celebratory party to join me in my glee on the evening of the 22nd of may at my residence. I would love to share with you a grand revelation that not even I know the outcome of. All that I will say is that it will be an evening full of surprises.

Sincerely,

Hunter Clarington”

“What do you think it means?” Kurt asked as he took the paper from Blaine to inspect it further.

“I don’t know. But he is clearly up to something. Chief Sylvester said they got a hold of this invite right after they found suspicious signals and radiation coming from the address. They tracked all the vehicles going in and out of the vicinity. All transporting materials to build some sort of weapon… a powerful one.”

Kurt worried his bottom lip between his teeth and nodded, mulling over the information.

Blaine couldn't help but stare at Kurt's mouth as he licked his lips in thought. Blaine swallowed thickly and his breath hitched for a moment.

Kurt eyed him a little suspiciously. “Are you nervous?” he asked.

“Are you?” Great save, Blaine. Clever.

Kurt shrugged. “A little, I guess.”

Blaine didn’t actually expect that answer. “What? Why? You’re never nervous .”

“Well I just don’t really fit in at these kinds of events… ”

Blaine frowned at Kurt. “What makes you say that?”

“Everyone here is rich, Blaine. I don’t know any of these etiquettes and inside jokes. I’ll stick out like a sore thumb…”

“Kurt, you are a spy for the CIA You are literally trained to fit in anywhere. I’ve seen you act. You’re a natural! And your suit looks incredibly expensive.” Better than mine anyways…

Kurt smiled at the compliment. “Thank you. I tailored it myself, actually.”

“A secret agent with secret talents. Seriously, Kurt, what can’t you do?”

“It’s not “Kurt” tonight, Remember?”

“Right. Yes. Sorry, Mr. Ralph Murray, what can’t you do?” Blaine said to Kurt with a smile.

“Some secrets I don't dare share, not even with you, Mr. George Murray, darling. ” Kurt winked at Blaine.

And there it was; the reason Blaine was nervous in the first place. Tonight Kurt and he were Ralph and George Murray, husbands of five years, millionaires, and most importantly, on the guest list. It wouldn’t be a hard part to play; Kurt’s husband. Blaine had played that part often enough in his head. But Kurt didn’t know that, and Blaine would rather eat his bowtie than have Kurt finding out and Blaine making a fool out of himself. He just couldn't help but blush at the pet name Kurt gave him.

Then, a sharp noise pierced his ear. Blaine flinched. This damn earpiece! And then a voice, “Hey guys, I’m glad to hear you are getting into character, but you better get in there. We have no clue where the signal is coming from within that building. And we need to find it fast.

Right. Blaine thought. The stakes were high tonight. The nation was in danger and it was their job to secure its safety. “We best get in, then.”

“Oh before you do, I have hidden some gadgets for you in that bush over there on the left side of the gate.”

“Hold up. You have hidden our top secret, highly dangerous gadgets… in a bush?” Kurt said exasperatedly into his earpiece.

“I figured they would be easily accessible…”

“Yeah. To literally everyone , Sam,” Kurt hissed.

“Oh… yeah…”

“Look, Sam, just tell us what you got us,” Blaine said as he crouched next to the bush, pushing the branches aside to reveal a suitcase. He opened it and Sam continued, “Alright. There is of course your trusted grenade pen, anaesthetic darts-watch and bulletproof handkerchief, but I have also added a few of my newest inventions.”

To this, Kurt shot Blaine an apprehensive look. They were a little too familiar with Sam's “ inventions” to say they were always a raging success. They looked into the suitcase and saw, beside their usual gadgets, something that looked like a small beauty case, an umbrella and a pair of sunglasses. “What the…” Kurt whispered under his breath.

Blaine frowned. “Sam, the event is inside… how are we supposed to casually pull out an umbrella or sunglasses?”

“You're worried about the sunglasses? How do you reckon we are gonna be able to pull off using a, what is this, a lipstick ?” Kurt said as he held up a small golden tube.

“I- hadn’t really thought about that,” Sam confessed.

Kurt looked like a vein was about to pop in his forehead as he pinched the skin between his eyebrows and pursed his lips.

“What do they do, Sam?” Blaine offered.

“Right, so, the umbrella is not only completely waterproof, it is also fire resistant and creates a perfect shield once unfolded. The sunglasses have infrared night vision and the lipstick is my personal favourite. It releases a toxic fume if you press that button on the back there, but that won't affect you when you are wearing the lipstick as it neutralises the toxins as they come close to it, so when you inhale, you're totally safe,” Sam said proudly.

Blaine had to admit the inventions sounded pretty incredible had they been more practical. “Alright,” he sighed. “Thank you, Sam.”

Kurt side eyed him and Blaine offered a shrug in return.

“Well, we’d better get going, now. We’ll tune back in when we need you, Sam,” Kurt said and tapped on his earpiece once to hang up. Blaine followed. “Honestly, I can’t with him sometimes. I know you guys are friends, but he sure gets on my nerves.”

Maybe Sam didn't always have the best ideas, but he really wasn't bad at his job. Blaine thought. “He tries his best, though. And he is actually really great once you get to know him,”

Kurt shook his head. “You’re too kind for your own good,” he said, but there wasn't any actual judgement in his voice.

Blaine smiled and the blush he was sporting a minute ago returned faintly to his cheeks.

They walked through the gate towards a grand wooden front door in front of which a big woman was standing behind a podium with her arms crossed. "Names?" she said as she was eyeing them up and down suspiciously.

Blaine put on his most charming smile. “George and Ralph Murray,” he responded.

She looked at the register in front of her and her expression changed. “Ah! Splendid!" Welcome to the Clarington residence. All guests are expected in the ballroom for the welcome speech at 8:00 pm sharp. In the meantime there will be beverages and appetisers served in the grand foyer. Please enjoy your evening Mr. and Mr. Murray.”

“Thank you,” Kurt said and nodded to the woman. They walked past her as the doors opened.

“Ballroom? Really?” Blaine whispered at Kurt as they made their way up the steps leading to the front door. “What is this place? Versaille?”

Kurt sniggered and gave Blaine a pointed look. “Play the part now, Blaine,” he said as they stepped over the threshold.

They entered an incredible marble room with two grand staircases with golden railings on each side. Large pillars reached to the high ceiling on which, in the middle, hung an enormous crystal chandelier. Blaine’s mouth fell open and he heard Kurt release a low whistle. They quickly pulled themselves together as they were approached by a young handsome waiter. “Welcome, gentlemen. Can I offer you a drink? A glass of champagne perhaps? Cocktail?”

“I’ll have an old fashioned, thank you.” Kurt said with a confident, charming smile. See? Blaine knew Kurt had nothing to worry about. He was a natural. Blaine might have come from money, but Kurt just radiated class.

“For me a negroni, please. Let’s save the champagne for later after the great announcement, don't you think?” Blaine said with a wink.

The young man blushed. “Certainly, sir.”

“Say, do you happen to know anything about this speech?” Blaine asked him.

The waiter's eyes grew wide for a second. “I- I’m sorry sir, but it’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“Of course. I’m sorry,” Blaine gave the waiter an understanding smile. The young man bowed his head gratefully and dashed away to get their drinks.

Blaine leaned into Kurt’s side, “You reckon he didn't know? Or he didn’t want to say?” he asked.

“Not sure… Would you share your secrets with the waiting staff?”

“I don’t know. I never had waiting staff.”

“Hm.” Kurt gave him a considering look that lingered a bit too long. It made Blaine feel a little hot in the face.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.” Kurt shrugged. “I’m just trying to paint a picture of you.” When Blaine didn't respond immediately he added, “It's a good picture, don't worry.” There was something suggestive in the way Kurt spoke. Blaine looked at him as if to try figuring him out. Kurt was just good at playing his part. Blaine told himself. Though no one was looking at them at the moment so there was no direct reason for it.

“Let's ask around some more, shall we?” Kurt suggested, breaking the tension.

"Yeah. Good plan.”

The young waiter had returned with their drinks and they started moving through the crowd. They asked multiple people if they had any idea what they were doing here, but no one seemed to know or want to tell them anything.

“This is hopeless. We are wasting valuable time.” Blaine slumped against one of the pillars.

Kurt opened his mouth to respond but Blaine motioned for him to be quiet when he heard a woman speak; “See, I told you he was weird. Who hosts a party for their cat?”

They turned to look where the voice came from. A latina woman with long dark hair in a fitted, red, velvet dress was talking to another woman. This one with blond hair styled in a stylishly messy updo and a mint green dress.

“I would,” the blonde woman said solemnly. “And I have in the past.”

“Yeah, but that’s different. You’re cute about it.” The dark haired woman flirted and the blonde one gave her a quick kiss.

“Excuse me,” Blaine piped in.

The dark haired woman gave him a once over, clearly judging him.

“George Murray, pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand and the woman took it with only slight reluctance. “This is my husband, Ralph Murray.” He gestured to Kurt who then also shook the woman’s hand. Blaine noticed that the look she gave him was a lot less disapproving. Though Blaine couldn't blame her when Kurt was wearing that suit.

“Santana Lopez,” the dark haired woman introduced herself. “This is Brittany Pierce.”

The men shook Brittany's hand as well. “I’m sorry, we just couldn’t help but overhear… Do you happen to know what this event is for?”

“I’ve only heard rumours,” Santana said.

“I see. Where did you get these rumours from?” Blaine asked.

Santana crossed her arms. “Well aren’t you the little detective. What's it to you, anyways?

“Just nosy.” Kurt’s smile turned a little more devious than polite, matching her energy.

“They say it’s his cat’s birthday, but that doesn’t explain the great announcement. Maybe his cat got nominated for an award.” Brittany said

Kurt and Blaine looked at each other in disbelief, and back at the women. “You can’t be serious,” Kurt said.

Santana crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Deadly.”

“He can't be that passionate about a cat?”

“Wanna bet?” Santana challenged. “How do you think we know him?”

The men shrugged.

“We know him from cat shows.” Santana rolled her eyes. “Brittany’s cat, Lord Tubbington, often runs against his cat, Mr. Puss. So believe me when I say people are passionate about their cats. Anyways if you really wanna know, we heard it from Sebastian Smythe.”

“Who is that?”

“He is one of Hunter's closest friends .” She grinned as if to imply something.

“Do you think Hunter told him about his plans for the night?” Blaine asked, trying to hide the eagerness in his voice.

“I’m sure he did. I overheard them talking about half an hour ago. Something about ‘getting it ready in the basement.’ ” She shrugged.

Kurt and Blaine exchanged a meaningful look. “Do you know how we can get in there?” Kurt asked.

“I'm sure Sebastian has a keycard to the elevator. But hold up, why do you want to know so bad?”

“Never mind that. What does he look like; Sebastian?” Kurt asked.

Santana smirked. “Oh you can’t miss him.”

Brittany then took Santana's hand and whispered something in her ear. They giggled. “Look we’d love to stay and chat, but we, er, we gotta go.” Santana said before she was pulled away by Brittany. Santana managed to add a “good luck” as they disappeared into the crowd.

“What do we do now?” Blaine sighed. “We have no clue where to find this Sebastian character,”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Kurt said and pointed over Blaine’s shoulder.

Blaine turned to look, and there, in the middle of a group of people, stood a handsome man who was clearly the centre of attention. The people around him were laughing at his jokes and basically fawning over him. “You reckon that’s him?” Blaine asked.

“ Oh my god, Sebastian! You didn’t!” one of the guys closest to him laughed and flirtily touched the man’s arm.

Sebastian petted the guy’s hand and smirked. “You should hear what I did with his father,” he said and winked at the woman next to him. The people around him all laughed.

Blaine snorted. “Well that answers that,” he said.

“He looks incredibly obnoxious,” Kurt said and narrowed his eyes. “He is flirting with literally everyone in his little group.” He grimaced.

“Maybe we can use that to our advantage?” Blaine thought out loud. However he didn’t really feel like watching Kurt chat up another man. He would just have to do it himself. “I will go and talk to him!”

“Wait, maybe-” but before Kurt could protest, Blaine had stepped into the circle of people. Sebastian's eyes were immediately on him.

“Well hello handsome,” Sebastian said and extended his hand towards Blaine. “I don’t think we’ve met. You look like someone I wouldn’t easily forget.” He grinned.

Despite his better judgement, Blaine blushed. The man was handsome, alright. And definitely charismatic, judging by the effect he had on the people around him. “We haven't. My name is George Murray. Are you Sebastian Smythe?” Blaine asked as he shook the man’s hand.

“Matter of fact I am. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I was talking to some friends of mine and you sounded… interesting” Blaine smiled a what he hoped was a seductive smile.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow and turned away from Blaine for a second to make a dismissive gesture to his followers. “Could you give us a moment please?”

The small crowd looked annoyed, some even jealous, but they obeyed, leaving the two men to themselves. Sebastian turned back to Blaine “Interesting, hm?” he grinned.

Now that they were talking Blaine realised he didn’t actually have a solid plan. He couldn’t straight up ask Sebastian to give him the key. He would never just hand it over. Maybe Blaine could convince Sebastian to take him to the basement? But he needed Kurt with him. So he had to think of something else.

“They said you were close friends with the host,” Blaine said, trying to imply exactly whatever Santana was implying before. “I can see why he would like you,” he flirted. Apparently this was the right move, as Sebastian looked him up and down let his gaze rest on Blaine’s mouth.

Sebastian leaned in closer. “You’re cute, George Murray. How come I’ve never seen you before?”

“I- I’m usually very busy with eh- work. Don’t-“ Blaine swallowed. “Don’t often have time for parties.” Out of the corner of his eye Blaine noticed movement. He glanced over Sebastian's shoulder and saw that Kurt was miming something. “Back pocket!” He mouthed. What about his back pocket? Wait. Sebastian’s back pocket! The keycard was in sebastians back pocket!

Sebastian, who luckily didn’t seem to have noticed anything, spoke again, “Ah, so you're Mr. Professional, hm? Do you always obey the rules or are you capable of letting loose every once in a while?”

“Er, yeah sure,” Blaine said semi on auto pilot. How the hell was he supposed to get the key-card from Sebastian’s pocket? “What about you?” he asked. “Are you a rule breaker?”

“You could say that,” Sebastian quipped.

Blaine laughed. He needed to get very close and personal with this man but whilst he was doing so, he might as well find out some more information.

“I was wondering,” Blaine said and trailed his finger over Sebastian’s chest. “As you’re such a bad boy, would you mind telling me what tonight is all about?” Blaine looked up through his eyelashes.

Sebastian inhaled through his teeth. “Oh babe, I can’t tell you that. It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“I thought you didn't play by the rules.”

“Why don’t you come upstairs with me where we can have a little more privacy and I can tell you all you want to know.” Sebastian said and slipped an arm around Blaine’s back.

This was his chance. He could take it now and Sebastian wouldn't notice. He just didn’t know how to get out of the situation once he made his move. Blaine looked over his shoulder in search of Kurt and found him looking at them. Blaine gave him a quick pleading look, hoping Kurt would understand. Here goes nothing. He put his hand on Sebastian's back and slid it down to rest over his butt. “Sounds amazing...” Blaine felt the card in Sebastian's pocket. “...but I forgot to mention…” He slid his fingers into the pocket over the card, trying to pull it off as a caress, and as he retreated his hand he pulled the card out. Got it. “...that I'm married.”

As if on cue, Kurt stepped in front of them. “Darling! There you are! I was looking for you.” He smiled a bit too sweetly at Blaine. “Who’s our new friend?” he asked and shot a murdering look at Sebastian.

“Woah, what the hell?” Sebastian took a step back, letting go of Blaine.

Blaine quickly slipped the key-card into his own pocket and stepped closer to Kurt. “Ralph, honey, this is Sebastian. He is a close friend of Hunter’s. Sebastian, this is my husband, Ralph Murray.”

“Husband? Wow,” Sebastian said. “Was not expecting that.”

Kurt held out his hand. “Pleasure,” he said through gritted teeth.

Sebastian took Kurt’s hand and shook it once.

Kurt turned to Blaine again. “Well it’s almost 8 o’clock. We should get going, darling.”

“Right.” Blaine nodded. “Maybe we can talk later?” he offered innocently to Sebastian as if nothing had happened. “It was very nice meeting you.”

“Sure was,” Sebastian said and winked at Blaine, clearly recovered from the initial shock. “I am looking forward to seeing you again, George.”

Kurt then pulled Blaine away by his hand through the crowd, leaving Sebastian behind.

“Thank you for saving me,” Blaine said once they had found a quiet corner.

“You didn't really seem like you needed saving,” Kurt said coldly.

“What do you mean? If you hadn’t shown up, I wouldn’t have been able to get away!”

“I mean, ” Kurt said. “It didn't seem like you had such a terrible time with him. I know you needed to get the card, but how are we supposed to come across as a happily married couple when you are feeling up all the other guests.” He crossed his arms defensively.

Blaine stared at Kurt for a second. Then it dawned on him. “Wait, Kurt, are you jealous?”

“No,” Kurt snapped.

“Oh my god, you are totally jealous.”

Kurt’s cheeks turned red. “Shut up, I'm trying to take this mission seriously. Did you at least get the key?”

Blaine couldn't help but grin as he presented it. “Got it right here.”

“Great. Let's go try it out before he finds out it’s missing. We need to get to the basement before it’s 8 o’clock.”

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