#the braids really really came out beautifully

[satanicspinosaurus]

FINALLY. Someone who gets that bards should kind of somewhat freak you out.

Yes, there's the nervous little toot toot joke. (Still great.) But like, my man is serving world altering magic via flute. I have no clue why quarter staff is fine, but instrument isn't.

Also like he is going to set the mood for those spells. And first, just going to guess that it's not going to be all flute sounds. And second, like a lot of psychic damage is on the bards spell list. The ominous serious background of this piece would like to you to consider this. (Seriously, I don't think we REALLY think about how buffs should be weirder than they are.)

But yeah, something really clicked for me seeing Aldiirn all glammed up here. I can see him holding a room way easier now. Some of that is certainly the beautiful clothing. That looks so expensive, damn. (Might be my Western-centric view but purple in these settings always screams expensive to me, lol.)

There's so many details, damn.

Aldiirn, the Musical Merchant! I somehow became possessed to render my tav to the level of the companions' cover art and found out just how potent the embroidery on the Potent Robes is. And remembered why I haven't done any painting work for myself for half a year haha.

[bluejeanstrash]

vampires pt. 3 | pt. 2 | pt. 1

tags: 2.2k, vampire! seungcheol x human reader, 18+, mdni, dubcon, rough sex, toxic codependency, emotionally volatile seungcheol, degradation (verbal and physical)

weeks, maybe even a month had passed since you’d last seen seungcheol. you couldn’t tell — time didn’t really exist within the walls of the castle. though gone, his absence was everywhere. it was an absence that made your guilt grow day by day — the weight of which was now suffocating you. what if he’d found another? he hadn’t even called for you once.

the first time seungcheol had ‘called for you’, you thought he was going to kill you. vampires never met with humans alone. they would use the slaves in groups or out in public but seungcheol wanted to see you privately. maybe since he was the one who captured you and brought you here, he felt he had the right to have you all to himself.

since that night he would call for you occasionally, fucking you alone, and until he was satisfied. but that had all stopped. until today. you’d been summoned at midnight, your mind a complete mess throughout the day. you’re not sure why you feel so anxious — you haven’t even done anything wrong. 

when it came to these nights, seungcheol had three simple rules:

one, you would be freshly bathed. he wanted you to be washed off traces of anyone else — coming to him pure, untouched. 

two, your hair would be tied in a single braid — neat, out of your face.

and third, you would be dressed in a modest white nightgown with nothing underneath, giving him easy access to you.

he was very particular. he liked things pretty, even during his kills. he would bring his prey back to the castle, groom them, and then when they were perfect, he would ruin them. much like when a beautifully plated dish adds to its flavour.

the others were different — jeonghan preferred his prey to be scared, fear coursing through their veins tasted the best; joshua toyed with his food before he killed them, giving them hope they could escape before dragging them back; mingyu was impatient, devouring them too soon and regretting it after; and wonwoo was calm, until the bloodlust would hit him. his frenzied kills were a complete terror.

it’s midnight now as you stand infront of the door, frozen. you look down at the intricate door handle, running you fingers over the grooves to calm yourself down, and after taking a deep breath, you knock.

‘enter’ seungcheol’s voice makes your heart race. it’s been so long since you’ve heard it. you walk into the dimly lit room, the hue from the candles casting a warm glow over everything. as custom, you kneel in front of the fireplace, waiting with your head lowered. the room where you would meet was gorgeous albeit ostentatious. the ornate double doors opened to an opulently decorated room. to the right was a small longue area in front of a fireplace which was never lit; opposite it was a four-poster bed and adjacent to both was a writing desk, placed directly in front of the huge stained glass windows. 

as you wait, you can feel seungcheol’s eyes on you, studying you intently from head to toe. you can hear his nails scrape the wooden desk, continuing to stare like he’s trying to find something wrong with you. but you look perfect. still, seungcheol feels a simmering rage within him.

he’d been furious ever since that day. how could you choose someone else? you were first and foremost, his, and for you to pick wonwoo was an insult he couldn’t allow. he’d thought after all this time he would feel differently, but he doesn’t. it was a mistake calling you here.

‘leave’ he dismisses you coldly but to his surprise, and annoyance, you don’t move. it’s foolish to defy him but you need to do something.

‘don't make me repeat myself’

‘master-’ 

‘get. out.’

‘master, please, i’m sorry’ you don’t know what else to say. you flinch at the sound of his chair being pushed back savagely. his steps are heavy and heated as he walks over, standing in front of you.

‘look at me’ you look up, meeting his eyes for the first time, feeling your cunt quiver.

‘you’re sorry? what exactly are you sorry for?’ he questions, finding it incredulous that you have the nerve to disobey him. 

‘i’m s-sorry if i upset you’ seungcheol scoffs, circling behind you. he paces quietly, back and forth, as the seconds pass in complete silence, and then you feel a searing sting. hot liquid hits your skin, making you cry out in pain. ‘you think you, a human, have the power to upset me?’ his voice is dripping with disdain.

he holds the candle above you, letting the burning wax drip onto your supple skin, watching how it rolls down and hardens on contact.

‘master, t-that hurts’ you stutter. seungcheol didn’t get off on your pain, so why was he making you feel it? he suddenly snakes his hand around your throat, pulling you up ‘exactly. it hurts and you don’t have the power to do anything’

‘you don’t have any power’ he reminds you ‘you’re just a weak, pathetic human’ his grip tightens like a noose, fingers digging dangerously deep into your skin.

you gasp as he squeezes tight before releasing you. ‘so helpless’ he mutters, his heavy breath caressing the bare skin of your shoulder, and all of a sudden he lifts your dress up and bends you over. being this close to you after weeks apart, seungcheol can’t control himself. he unzips his pants, pulling out his throbbing cock, and enters you — your cunt that's already sopping wet for him.

it's embarrassing how easily he slips in, your arousal coating his cock instantly. he laughs ‘i haven't even touched you yet and you're dripping wet? pathetic’ despite his words, he loves it. he needs more.

‘stand up’ he orders, his hand back around your throat as he pulls you closer, your back arching off him. he pushes into you completely, your warm cunt gripping him tight and starts thrusting. seungcheol groans, his gaze suddenly fixated on your elongated neck — your skin is taut and tender — it’s perfect. you feel his fangs graze against your stretched neck before he bites, his sharp teeth puncturing your skin as two lines of blood trickle down your neck. you should be scared, you should. so why does it feel almost erotic?

seungcheol drinks from you, your blood seeping into the cracks of his hungry lips as his thrusts hit deeper, his cock throbbing inside you so rapidly. ‘fuck...i need more’ he breathes, teeth sinking in again. seungcheol has always been able control himself, never letting his bloodlust take over, but you taste so sweet, it takes all his will to pull away. he realises this is his privilege, only his, something no one else would be ever be allowed to do — drink from his prey for pleasure. 

though he’s taken from you, it feels like he’s injected something far deeper into your veins. you feel bound to him. his presence is heightened — how good he feels inside you; stretching you open, filling you up. you can’t help but want more.

‘master, can i touch myself? please, you’re making me feel so good’ you beg.

he allows; your fingers on your cunt immediately, stimulating your clit.

‘y-yes’ you whine, needy little sounds spilling out with it ‘yes master…use me’ suddenly, he stops thrusting, keeping his hard cock inside you and asks,

‘who do you want to fuck the most hmmn? whose cock do you crave in your slave cunt?’ seungcheol growls, bringing back the very question that upset him, but this time he excepts the right answer.

‘y-yours master, i want you the most. i love getting fucked by my master’s cock’ he lets out a gruff moan at your words, pulling out and turning you around to face him. 

there’s a flicker of uncontrolled lust in his eyes ‘what did you just say?’ you repeat your words to him but seungcheol’s stuck on just the two. my master — him belonging to you and you to him. he grabs you by the throat, squeezing lightly ‘what are you doing to me?’ he mutters, feeling painfully possessive of the idea. but then the memory of you spread open, pushing wonwoo’s cum inside you returns. you gasp as his grip tightens.

‘how did it feel, hmm? pushing wonwoo’s cum inside you? you didn’t look like you wanted to get fucked by me, you looked like a dirty fucking whore’ seungcheol’s eyes go dark. for the first time tonight you’re scared, desperate not to upset him further.

‘tell me’ 

‘i felt nothing master’ you lie ‘i imagined it was yours. i wanted your cum on my fingers…i only want your cum inside me’ seungcheol inhales sharply, high on your words. ‘take off your dress’ he commands as you pull it off quickly. he unbuttons his shirt, almost ripping it off and in a single breath grabs your waist and lifts you, your legs wrapping around his waist and arms draped around his neck. his cold skin is pressed to your warmth as he carries you across the room, pushing you up against the stained glass windows.

it’s much too intimate a position to be in with you but he doesn’t care; he wants you. he enters you slowly, filling you up with a deep sensual stroke. you whimper, feeling all of him inside you.

‘master..please fuck me’ and he does. seungcheol fucks you passionate, making sure every thrust touches your deepest parts, addicted to the soft mewls spilling out of you. he keeps his eyes locked on yours like he’s searching for something in them. you can see they’ve turned a deep crimson in the moonlight — the dreamy moonlight that’s hitting his pale, almost translucent skin so beautifully, his jet black hair and blood stained lips in striking contrast to it. you’re suddenly taken by his beauty, feeling overwhelmed. so you drop your gaze, unable to keep his.

‘no’ he commands ‘you will look at me while i fuck you’ he picks up the pace, thrusting harder.

‘you’re mine’ he breathes ‘you’re mine before anyone else’s. understood?’

he buries his face in your neck, his lips finding where he’d drank from earlier and starts sucking on that spot hungrily. your taste…he can’t stop craving it. as soon as he gets a little taste his thrusts turn animalistic, eyebrows pulled tight as he pounds into you, balls slapping against your cunt. you gasp, tilting your head back, giving him more access. ‘fuck’ his cock twitches inside you.

seeing you offer your body to him like this was intoxicating. ‘look at me’ he moans, his eyes back on yours. then for the very first time, he kisses you. his kisses are hard and messy, matching his thrusts. he pushes his tongue into your mouth, finding yours as your kisses deepen. you need him now and so you beg,

‘master, bury your seed inside me. p-please, i haven’t felt you in so long’ it’s sick honestly — your desperate words and the immediate effect they have on him. seungcheol’s pushed to the brink of orgasm, and for a split second, he feels himself losing all control. taking your life, draining you of your sweet nectar as he cums inside you would be euphoric beyond belief, but he just can’t bring himself to do it. instead, he says,

‘cum with me’ the words coming out of his mouth are unthinkable.

‘you’re going to cum with me’ it’s an order now, and you let yourself feel the pleasure that’s been building. his lips are back on yours, kissing you with untamed desire. ‘m-master, i’m going to cum’ you whine, clamping around his pulsating cock and feeling it take over you — it’s primal the way this pleasure feels. you press yourself against him and moan ‘master, make me yours’ 

‘f-fuck’ he curses, fucking you against the window so violently as he cums, shooting his seed inside you while you’re still consumed by your high. seungcheol groans and just keeps going, pushing all his cum deeper and deeper inside as if he’s trying to breed you.

‘thank you master..’ you breathe as his pace slackens, his final thrusts slow. there’s a stillness that sets in as his cock slips out of you, your legs unwrapping around him to find the floor. you’re suddenly aware of how eerily silent the castle is tonight. did anyone else hear? it feels too intimate a moment to share. or that's what you think. seungcheol steps away from you, a sudden coldness coming off him.

‘you may leave’ his words are firm.

the overwhelming high from the sex comes crashing down in an instant and those useless human emotions that wonwoo loves so much take over; you feel humiliated, you feel jilted, you feel used. and then you feel tears start to form, your vision blurring. you can't let him see you like this. you drop your gaze and start to walk away, your steps slow in hopes he’ll stop you. but why would he? only lovers stay the night, slaves are sent their way. 

seungcheol watches you get dressed, suppressing the urge to pull you back to him. he can’t be attached to a human, that isn’t how it works. humans are disposable, meant to fuck and feast on. he can’t. you turn around and bow, catching his eye for a second and quickly look away. the door creaks open as he watches you leave. you feel like a mess as the door shuts softly, and behind it, so does he. 

[weird-obsessed-girl]

Bagginshield Fic Rec

I can’t believe I’ve had such an intense revival into The Hobbit Fandom after being obsessed with the movies when they came out just over 10 years ago now. There’s just some fandoms that have consistently amazing fanfics that are written beautifully and with such interesting concepts.

Some of these are a bit silly and cracky but i think that’s the appeal of The Hobbit, it’s a bit more cheerful than LOTR (vehemently ignoring Battle of the Five Armies)

So below is a list of fics I have loved reading organised by word count smallest to largest.

If you have any fics that you’ve read and don’t see here please share them with me! P.S, if you need more fics to read after these please check out the author’s other works.

Fanfiction Title - Author

Tags, description of fic | word count | rating

And Down the Road I Goes - pibroch (littleblackdog)

Kid!fic, mpreg, humour, dwobbits, beard problems | 1.3k | T

All That Glitters - BeautifulFiction

Everyone lives, post-BAFTA, Dwarven culture and customs, Dwarven jewellery | 1.5k | G

Truth - alkjira

Body image issues, post-BAFTA, everybody lives, Dwarven beauty standards | 1.9k | T

Brethren, Braids and a Bothersome Burglar - Frankensteins_Monster

Unintentional Dwarven courting, and then intentional after communication is cleared up, Hair Braiding | 2.3k | T

There is A Child - smileybagel

Foresight, canonical character death, Thorin POV | 2.7k | T

Of the King and Consort’s Portraits - undomiel (dolcewrites)

Cultural differences, painting portraits, Erebor and Shire Parallels, domestic fluff | 3.4K | T

Shorn - Avelera

Mourning ritual, Dwarf culture and customs, misunderstandings, pre-slash, Long-beards mentioned! 3.5k | G

A Chance to Make It Right - smileybagel

Thorin is offered a second chance, magical dreams of future children, second part to “There is A Child” | 3.6k | G

The Proper Way To Call You Mine - Fantasyinallforms

Hair braiding, post-BAFTA, misunderstandings, Fili and Kili meddling, getting together, jealous Thorin | 3.6k | T

And in our love u see golden things - Seungshi03

Goldsickness as a mental health condition, domestic fluff, consort Bilbo | 3.7k | G

Riddles in the Dark Brought into the Light - Lucigoo89

Everyone lives, post-BAFTA, PTSD, loooove fics where the trauma from the journey is included, background Dwalin/Nori | 3.8k | G

In More than the Wisdom of Years - jezebel_rising

Dis POV, everyone lives, reunions, Dis and Bilbo friendship | 4.2k | Not rated

A Dwarven Beauty - bevel_bee

Dwarven beauty standards, Bilbo is considered very attractive, but he’s very oblivious to the compliments, post-BAFTA | 4.6k | G

The Seven Gifts - snowmissus (soul_of_blaze)

Dwarf and hobbit courting, awkwardness, Bilbo remains in Erebor, miscommunication | 5.1k | G

The Stone’s Gift - SilverSkiesAtMidnight

Established relationship, consort Bilbo, “the Dwarven equivalent of cabbage patch hobbits”, dwarves made from literal stone, unplanned pregnancy | 5.2k | T

One Remedy for Gold Sickness (or maybe two) - randi2204

Bilbo uses an ancient hobbit remedy for greedy folks, flabbergasted dwarves | 5.8k | T * need to have an Ao3 account

Better an ugly face than an ugly mind - unpeumacabre

Dwarven beauty standards (and hobbit ones), Thorin POV | 6.1k | T

A Minor Problem - fideliant

Smut, thorin finds out Bilbo’s age, obliviousness to different species’ life expectancies | 6.4K | E

Bruises on the Heart - thehufflepuffhobbit

5 + 1 times, soulmate au, Thorin POV, bruises, sharing a bed, during the journey | 7.8k | E

Clue-finder - TheGrayKnight

Post-BAFTA, Dwarven courting, cultural differences | 9k | G

Queen Under the Mountain - benny_Laur

Character death (not really), Dis POV, I LOVE DIS, Requited love, Kili definitely should not be in charge of communications | 11k | Not rating

Call You Home - northerntrash

Hobbit culture, including hidden names (I like the hobbit side as it’s a popular trope that dwarves have hidden names), Thorin’s puppy-eyes, the company | 11.9K | Not rated

Planting a Hobbit - northerntrash

Everyone lives, post-BAFTA, homesickness, domestic fluff, Thorin builds Bilbo a garden trope! 13k | Not rated

Forget-Me-Not - kerkusa, LordOfTheRazzles

Established relationship, post-BAFTA, healing Thorin causes temporary amnesia, Dwarf and Hobbit courting (again) | 14k | G

Defying Death (or at least the ones in charge) - Lucigoo89

I have yet to read this yet but it looks very promising! Bilbo has died and now it’s time for him to smuggle himself into Mahalia Halls to see his love again | 15.1k | T

Ere Break of Day - alexaprilgarden

During the journey, falling in love, Dwarven Ones, soulmates, everyone lives, angst | 15.6k | E

The Different Shades of Bilbo’s Love - SunnyRose

Kid Bilbo wants to be friends with Thorin, consenting adult romance later on, friends to lovers, flower language, Belladonna Took! 17.5k | G

I have loved you and you have not known it - KaavyaWriting

Miscommunication, the company come up with a way of making friends with a hobbit that is inaccurate, jealous Thorin, during the journey | 17.7k | G

You Got Me - drunkonwriting

Company-centric, dwarf culture, fluff, during the journey, friendship fic | 18.9k | G

Gardening - The Feels Whale (miscellea)

Bilbo returns to Shire, Kid!fic, cabbage patch hobbits, Bilbo’s under the impression Thorin died (he’s wrong) | 19.7k | T

My Princess, My Love, Marry Me! - mordelle

Alt universe, Princess Thorin visits the Shire, pinning Bilbo, Thorin is considered ugly by Dwarven beauty standards, smut | 36.3k | E

[skyeslittlecorner]

On the other side - Andrealphus

I have no idea who proposed it because sadly I can't find it (found you! Thanks for inspiration @\rae-pss!), but someone came up with an idea of what would happen if the characters from WHB started to realize that the MC was not us. That there is someone on the other side of the screen who takes care of them. I created a little silly fic loosely interpreting it.

Word count: 1284

Other parts: On the other side | Promised Land | Point to point | Love is blind (18+)

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

Life is so repeatable. Work, eat, sleep, work, eat, sleep, work, eat, sleep, only with some little pleasures in between. You took off jacket, threw it away and plopped down at the chair. Old phone landed on a table as you were struggling with thoughts whether to eat instant noodles today or heat up yesterday's dinner.

"Come on, boys." You turn on game and tapped loading screen just from boredroom. "I don't have all evening."

You wanted to have a pet, you've considered it a lot. But with these earnings, the closest thing to an animal in this house were fish sticks. So all that had left to do was talk to fictional hot guys. At least they don't need to be feed.

When Andrea appeared on the display, you tapped on him with a smile.

"Hi, babygirl."

"Who’s there…?"

You've never seen this speech bubble before. Update? But nothing downloaded, and any additional files were in a queue. Well, maybe it was one of those little tweaks nobody notice. You tapped the screen about three hundred more times to see if there were any new voice lines, but this time everything was the same. Maybe it was just a combination of overactive imagination and tiredness. Yes. Instant noodles will be a better option, you will make them faster and go to bed faster.

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

"…and then this stupid bitch said it was all my fault." 

Lying half on the chair, half on the desk, and half somewhere in between, you were chatting with a friend on Discord and doing tasks for nightmare pass.

"That sucks. What are you going to do about it?"

"No idea. But if they take my bonus because of her, I'll kill her, I swear."

"I hope everything will be fine, but I have to go. Sorry."

"Yeah… Have fun on a date."

"Thanks!"

Hearing the disconnection sound, you sighed. Obviously, you couldn't blame them, keeping fingers crossed that they had found their other half of orange, but now they didn't even have time to meet for coffee, and you lived three minutes' walk from each other. Talking together, joking together, everything faded into the background. In addition, work was getting worse...

"I also hope everything will work out"

The voice sounded different. Familiar. But they definitely weren't your friend. You quickly checked the screen to see if anyone had joined the voice chat, but the screen was blank.

"What… Who? How?" Of course, there was no one around the room. Is this the beginning of hallucinations?

"I'd like to ask this too."

The voice that came from the speakers. From the telephone. From...?

The phone screen showed only a familiar sprite turning its head from side to side.  You forgot about the strange update from a few days ago. Was that it again? Andrea's red braid was beautifully animated, and facial expressions changed, delicate movements of the eyebrows and lips showed new emotions. It really looked stunningly real.

"Gorgeous." You complimented in a whisper godly work of the animator. "I can't wait until you get L, since you already look so sexy as S..."

"What are S and L...?"

He answered without tapping. Moreover, he tilted his head as if listening. There's been a lot of talk about AI lately, but you didn't agree to use the microphone in game… Unless it's some stinky term of services. This needs to be turned off, it will probably be in the settings. But after checking options, there was nothing like that there.

"Strange…"

"Trust me, I find it unnatural too." Andrea replied with an uncertain smile. "I hear you, but I don't feel anyone around me. But your voice… It’s nice. Can you keep talking? It feels good to be less... alone."

He sounded so much in character. Whoever programmed this, put a lot of work into it. It was a little weird... but you were so tired and done that chatting with the AI seemed like a nice change.

"Sure. It's weird talking to the screen, but well, I do it all the time anyway. Good thing it’s only an AI, because if anyone heard half the nonsense I moan, they'd probably send me to solitary confinement."

"You're calling grown man babygirl."

"Because you are!"

He chuckled, and it felt almost like a talking to an actual human. Muttering such nonsense, you felt ashamed for a moment. If the government suddenly started eavesdropping, the agent who was in charge was such a poor man.

"Tell me something else." He asked. "I've been hearing your voice for several days. I'd like to finally know who I'm having the pleasure of talking with."

He didn't have to ask twice. Of course, without providing any personal details, but you could give him your name. And told about that stupid bitch at work...

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

You checked tumblr, checked X, and checked the official website of the game. There was no word about an update anywhere, and after writing that this new option with talking to devils was great, all mutuals started to worry if everything was okay or asked how to unlock it. What were you supposed to tell them? That it just appeared?

What's worse, you started to treat Andrea like an ordinary person. A human being. Turning on the game during cleaning, cooking or making bed, talking to that little devil on the screen, and... listening to his stories. He spoke so beautifully. Talked about how he likes to spend his time (if not murdering angels), or what everyday life in Nilfheim is like. Sometimes he worried about the war, sometimes was happy when you stayed with him longer being off work.

"My blindness is truly a gift." He said one day with a dreamy smile.

"Why so?"

"In this daily hustle, if my eyes were still working properly, I certainly wouldn't be able to hear you, a small voice in my consciousness. I thought there was something wrong with me. But when I finally focused, you heard me too."

What he said was so similar to what you remembered about own feelings. Longing tightened your chest, longing for someone who didn't exist in this world, and that feeling turned into pain.

"I'm also glad we can hear from each other." Your voice changed noticeably. 

Andrea sensed it.

"Now that we've been able to talk, maybe one day we'll be able to touch each other?" He held his hand out in front of him, but you knew he couldn't pass through the screen. Still, you placed a finger where his hand was. Stupid mind was tricking you that you could feel his warmth. Tears came to your eyes.

"One day." You whispered with a trembling voice. "I don't know how, but one day we will."

"Do not cry, please. I don't want you to ever cry because of me.”

You tried to keep calm, but it was no use. Maybe one day, in another time, in another reality. Maybe it will work. No, it has to work. No matter how crazy others might think you were, this wasn't the world you were supposed to stay in. Your intended one waited patiently on the other side of the screen. You just didn't know how to do it. Not yet.

[disasterofastory]

‌👀Oh is your request box is open? If I may, could you maybe do a piece where Thranduil is trying to court reader but she's too focused on her food? Lmao. And maybe we can pretend that a corsage type flower was a courting gift in Silvan elves culture, so Thranduil try to do it for reader since she has many Silvan elves friend, hoping reader notice his intention. Btw thank you

Dinner Thranduil x Reader Warnings: none

A/N: Thank you for your patience! I hope you will enjoy it. :)

You've never been in his room before. You never had the reason for it until now. And you don't understand why you are feeling so nervous about it. You shouldn't. It's just a room, and Thranduil is your friend. There is nothing you have to worry about.

It will be fine.

"It will be fine," you breathe out, forcing a shaky smile on your face as you knock on the tall wooden door. You are not even sure what you should do. Should you knock again? Or just enter? Does he hear you? Maybe you should really knock again just to be sure. "Y/N," the elf greets you with a slight bow of his head. His impossible blonde hair falls over his shoulder. "Hey," you reply. Without your notice, your smile becomes genuine. The nerves relax in your body. "I hope I'm not too soon." "You are just in time," he says. "Come in."

His room is much bigger than yours with a similar style. The bed is huge, with soft blankets and pillows. One of the nightstands is full of books and papers. A mirror stands next to the door with a beautifully crafted wooden frame. "I thought we could have dinner on the balcony," Thranduil says after a few moments, giving you enough time to look around to your heart's content. While you are busy getting familiar with his space, he watches you the whole time. Your hand touches one of his books on his desk. Your finger smooths over the title. Your hair is tied in braids, and the silver embroidery on your dress glints in the light as you move. The long skirt highlights your height, and the leather belt adores your waist perfectly. "We will eat outside?" You ask, turning your attention to the balcony. "Oh, Thranduil," you gasp. "It's beautiful." "It is," he hums in agreement. You don't notice his gaze on you. "Shall we?" He asks, putting his large hand on the small of your back to lead you to your seat.

The balcony is just wide enough to give enough space for a small table and two chairs. Lush, green leaves run all over the wooden railing and the tall, slim columns, framing the view of the woods that are covered in an orange hue by the slowly disappearing sun behind the trees. "Thranduil, this is truly beautiful," you break the silence. Your eyes still scan the view with awe as you sit down. "I don't even know why you don't spend your every time here," you add jokingly. "I can't rule from a balcony," he smiles, sitting down in front of you. "It would be worth a try."

"And you asked for my favorite," you gasp again, looking down at your plate. "What is the occasion?" "It's… I-" "And it's delicious!" You groan between two bites. Thranduil opens his lips to say something but decides against it and smiles. "I'm glad you like it."

"And where is Legolas?" You ask him after a while, looking back into his room. "He won't be mad because we eat without him, right?" Thranduil's usually hard expression softens at your worry. "No," he says. "I told him it will be just the two of us because-" "Where is he? He came back from the woods already, right? It's getting darker." The elven king's teeth clench for a second. His chest swells with the words he can't say out loud. With a deep breath, he nods to chase away your worries. "He is in his room."

"So," the elf starts again after a while. "I asked you to spend dinner with me because-" "It's not your wine, is it?" You suddenly ask him. "It too… spicy." "I asked for the dwarves," he replies. His voice is tense. He really doesn't want to talk about the dwarves right now. "I know how much you like it." "It's really sweet of you, Thranduil," you smile at him. "I-" "Can we not talk about them?" He snaps, making you freeze with your glass in midair. Your eyes widen at the sudden change in his mood. "Sure," you murmur. "I'm sorry, I-" It seems like it's his turn not to let you finish your sentences. A heavy sigh leaves his lips as he closes his eyes for a second. Even though you are familiar with his moods, he doesn't want to ruin the night because of his impatience. You deserve better than him shouting his confession. "Thranduil," you say softly, reaching out for his hand. "Are you alright? Did I do something?" And now, he feels bad. He squeezes your hand in his, lifting it to his lips to kiss your soft skin. "You did nothing wrong, Y/N," he says. His voice is calm and collected. "I apologize for my behavior." "Don't worry about it," you smile at him to make the frown between his thick brows disappear. "I am the one who should apologize. I know I was rude. I just… Everything is so beautiful and… I feel nervous," you confess, biting your bottom lip. "I don't know why."

Silence falls on you for long minutes. None of you say anything as you wait for everything to calm down. Looking back, you feel a bit embarrassed because of your behavior. No matter how much you thought you were calm and relaxed, the small knot in your stomach didn't let you enjoy your night with Thranduil completely. You made a fool out of yourself.

"I just wanted to make this night special for you," Thranduil begins, and this time, you press your lips into a thin line to stop yourself from saying anything. "I'm sorry if I ruined it." You squeeze his hand to argue. He ruined nothing. "I have to tell you something." You nod. He laughs. "What? Now you won't speak?" You grin but say nothing. You just watch the curve of his lips and the brightness of his eyes. Happiness looks really good on him. After another deep breath, he confesses. "I want to ask your permission to court you." Your mouth falls open with shock. "What?" You gasp. That one world is barely louder than a whisper. The knot in your stomach starts to burn with full force. "I really like you, Y/N," he explains. "And if you give me permission, I will…" "Yes!" You snap, then jump on your seat. "I mean… And now I'm rude again. I'm sorry! Please, continue!" Amusement shows on his handsome face instead of frustration. "I will show you how much you mean to me if you let me." "Can I speak now?" You whisper. "Yes," he laughs. "Please, Y/N, talk. I start to miss your voice." "I like you too," you tell him. The words leave your lips with a slight tremble. Nervousness and excitement bubble in your chest. "And I would really like to see where it goes." "Good," he smiles. "You want to go for a walk in the garden? It's not too late for that." "Could we stay here?" You ask him. "I really like the view from here." "Of course, Y/N, whatever you want."

Thranduil only hopes this view becomes a part of your daily life when you move in with him.

[magic-hcs]

Can I request for Papyrus, Sky and The Horrortale Brothers with Kindness Soul S/O who is a Baker and has a bakery (Also they have healing powers)

Thank you so much for the ask! And for being so patient with me. Bear’s ended up being very long while the others quite short. I also didn’t have much idea what to do with the healing powers.

Bear: Horrortale Sans

Sky: Underswap Sans

Bean: Horrortale Papyrus

Time to cast some magic and see what we’ll get!✨

✨✨

Papyrus: Papyrus loves to bake with you! He’s good at baking, it just looks like a mess at the end result yet somehow still tasting so very delicious. You two probably met at the baking club Papyrus goes to. Maybe you came over at the club to help out with a specific cake the club was going to prepare that day.

Papyrus saw you and was immediately attracted to you. Looking so beautifully and handsomely in that apron of yours and with that focused yet kind look on your face. How could he not fall so easily for you?

✨✨

Sky: He gets very happy whenever you come by with some new treats you made. You’re his go to place for coffee and a treat before he’s off to work. Loves helping you in the kitchen. Somehow, the both of you always end up with a bit of flour covering you both.

You gotta keep an eye on him when he handles stuff that needs a sense of smell while baking since he has none. (It’s the reason why his food sometimes ends up inedible.)

Sky’s an amazing taste tester though.

✨✨

Bear: Bear had just been walking back home from the animal shelter when the sweet scent registered within him. He came to a complete halt, the single eyelight in his socket enlarging slightly. Completely forgetting what Bear priory was heading to, to instead follow this amazingly smelling trail. He didn’t have to walk that far, the source of the smell - which ended up being a newly opened bakery - was quite close by.

It was a cozy looking little thing. With brown chairs that look to be made of braided and weaved materials, and wooden tables with carved decorations standing just outside the bakery. There were two big window panes se with small different colored stained glass decorating just above the window sills.

A big chalkboard stood just outside, and written in big letters were the words 'GRAND OPENING, SWEETENDLILY'S OWN WHIPPED CREAM CHERRY MUFFINS AND BANANA SWISS ROLLS'

Bear walked in accompanied by a little 'ding' sound of the bell hanging just above the door, followed by a voice calling out a "I'm coming."

The smell came from behind the door where the voice had called out to him. Bear tugged slightly at his beany making sure it was still in the right place. Hiding the big crack in his skull. The smell became stronger and there you were. Mittens covering your hands which held a big tray of sweet scented bread. You looked up at him and your eyes widened, never having seen a living skeleton before. But you seemed to get yourself under control fast and grinned at him. “Welcome to Sweetendlily! Wheat can I do for you today?”

That pun had almost flown over his head if you hadn’t been grinning at him expectedly.

And that’s how it all started. And when I say all started I mean really all started. You were assertive, straightforward and kind. You left Bear reeling with your delicious treats, dazzling smiles and laughs, baking based puns and sugary flirts. Poor boy just kept coming back like he was being called by a very welcoming siren’s song. It was to no one’s surprise that you were the first to make a move by giving Bear a muffin with frosting that spelled ‘muffin ask u on a date?’ With a little heart decorating the side. You two have been together ever since.

✨✨

Bean: Bean loves it whenever you come to visit, knowing you’re bringing all kinds of self made goodies with you to share with the brothers. He definitely asks you to give him the recipes of some of the pastries you often bake for him.

He likes to bake with you, especially the decorating.

Bean’s soul warms whenever you make something specially for him. It makes him feel so appreciated.

✨✨

✨✨

Thank you for participating in this spell, I hope it was to your satisfaction.

[writing-with-yours-truly]

Javier (Twisters) x Reader Songfic: "Am I okay?"

This isn't my original idea, but I saw someone doing this with Tyler, so I thought I'd do it with Javi!

Featuring: Swearing, alcohol, close to a heart attack possibly

Not featuring: Angst, smut, or fighting. OR Y/N use!!!

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

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

You were in your Sophomore year of college, trying to major in business. The spring semester just started a few weeks ago and you already felt stressed. So, you decided that you were going to go to a close-by bar with your friend Addy, who was majoring in meteorology. She was a part of this big project that needed a big grant to help it once it took off.

Once you decided what you were going to wear, you headed out with Addy to make one hell of a night for yourself.

The two of you were sat at the bar, drinking lightly, when the door opened, and the room got louder. You turned around. Oh, my God. He looked like a dream. Freckles dancing on his face like stars. Beautiful eyes, and beautifully long curls. Your heart started to race so fast you thought you were having a heart attack.

Addy glanced at you, confused at your reaction. She then turned to see who you were staring down.

"Oh," Addy spoke up. "That's Javi. I storm chase with him when we go out in the spring. We're apart of that group I was telling you about."

"You chase with him?" You asked, fanning yourself. "He's such a dream, Addy. Oh, my God. Am I okay?" You were mostly talking to yourself at this point.

But then, something extraordinary happened. Javi looked over in your direction. At you. Your entire body froze up in shock. All you could muster is a wave. Javi smiled, and waved back, before returning to his conversation with one of the people who came with him.

You tried to ignore the surge of red in your cheeks and continued drinking with Addy. Sooner than later, Javi walked over to you and Addy as you two were finishing off a non-alcoholic beverage.

"Addy, you didn't tell me you had friends!" Javi said jokingly, nudging her shoulder as he stared you down. "Do you expect me to not talk to people outside of our circle?" Addy glared at him. "This is a friend I met in one of my outside activities. She's nice."

"I'm Javier by the way," Javi introduced himself, extending his arm for a handshake behind Addy's back. You extend your hand as well, the handshake lingering longer than it should have which caused your heart to jump from 90 beats to 100 beats. "Nice to meet you. As Addy said, I'm one of her friends. We met at a coffee shop."

"Well, a friend of Addy's is a friend of mine." Javi smiled at you. There was about ten seconds of this-- you and Javi staring at each other with grins on your faces, until Addy spoke up. "Well, the two of us better get going, we had plans tonight."

"Alright, Miss "I work on a schedule!". I'll see you Monday, alright?" He maneuvers around Addy and behind you, both perched in your seats still, before making his way to his friends, now sitting at the bar. He turned around to look at you. "And it was nice meeting you by the way."

You two left the bar and you looked shit-faced but still had that stupid smile etched on your face. You spent the night at Addy's dorm, raving about Javi.

"Girl, chill. I'm sure you'll see him again," Addy said, finishing the braid she did in your hair. "Hey, what's that in your pocket?" She asked, pulling out a yellow sticky note. She read it after setting your hair down. She grinned from ear to ear and handed it to you.

It read:

Hey, I never found your name out. Maybe you could text me your name sometime and we can go out to eat? -I'm not really good at this am I?- -- Javier Rivera

He's really going to give you a heart attack, isn't he?

[kckt88]

Take My Breath Away III

Summary:

The time has come for Vaeryna and Aemond to get married. A lie is uncovered and truths are told.

Warning(s): Swearing, Angst, Marriage, Consummation - P in V sex, Dubious Consent, Regret, Mentions of Death.

Word Count: 3487

GREENS WIN - SLOW BURN - ENEMIES TO LOVERS.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Kings Landing was a buzz with activity. The guests were arriving, the preparations had been made and it was finally here. The day Vaeryna and Aemond would stand together in the sept and get married.

Vaeryna was so nervous that she decided to skip breakfast, as she wasn’t sure that she could actually stomach food.

After bathing, Vaeryna’s maids began to help her get ready. Her long silver hair was brushed and twisted into elegant braids, her mother’s Valyrian steel necklace was fastened around her neck, and she placed her father’s gold Targaryen sigil ring on her finger. They couldn’t be with her in person, but they would be with her in spirit.

Now the wedding dress had been an issue from day one, Alicent wanted her to wear some green atrocity and Vaeryna promptly refused and when her soon to be good mother wasn’t looking the dress accidentally landed in the fire.

Alicent of course wasn’t happy, but Vaeryna couldn’t give two shits, and promptly went to the King and asked for his permission to design her own wedding dress, which he readily granted.

In normal circumstances, Vaeryna might have been shocked by the King’s willingness to grant her request, but she quickly came to realise that he just relished in the opportunity to cause trouble.

Perhaps what surprised Vaeryna more, was Aemond. Since their confrontation in her chambers, he’d taken to point blank ignoring her whenever she was in his presence which suited her just fine. But he hadn’t told his mother or Aegon about her relationship with Jace.

He was obviously keeping that little bombshell to himself for a reason and Vaeryna had to be cautious.

But the wedding dress she’d designed was modest, might have displayed a little too much cleavage for Alicent’s taste but Vaeryna wanted the guests to see her mothers necklace and know that Rhaenyra was still amongst them.

Of course, Vaeryna honoured little Jaehaera and had white butterflies stitched into the train of her dress. Some of them, Jaehaera had even stitched herself.

It was hard to believe that sweet little girl was truly Aegon’s daughter, she was entirely Helaena and Vaeryna made a silent vow to her aunt that she would always look out for her little girl.

At the waist of her dress, Vaeryna had dragon scale pattern stitched into the fabric, she of course wanted the guests to know that she was a true dragon. She would not forsake her Targaryen heritage for the seven.

As soon as the gown had been buttoned and her maiden cloak tied. There was a soft knock at the door. It was the King.

“I’ve come to escort you to the sept and walk you down the aisle”.

Vaeryna nodded and took a deep breath as she took Aegon’s arm.

Admittedly the sept was decorated beautifully, but it was Alicent’s expression that really brought a smile to Vaeryna’s face. She looked positively scandalised at the wedding dress she’d chosen.

Aemond was stood beside the high septon. He was elegantly dressed, his black tunic decorated with silver dragons and his Targaryen cloak tied loosely around his shoulders. His long hair tied back in its usual half up, half down style.

The horns signalled the beginning of the ceremony and begrudgingly Vaeryna took Aegon’s arm again.

“You look beautiful, my brother is a lucky man” said Aegon.

“He’s certainly something” muttered Vaeryna.

“Thank you for escorting the bride Your Grace. If you would be so kind as to wait for the Princess to remove her maiden cloak” said the Septon.

Vaeryna undid the ties of her maiden cloak and handed it to Aegon who bowed respectfully to the Septon and resumed his seat next to Alicent.

“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection” said the Septon loudly.

Aemond removed the cloak bearing the colours of house Targaryen and draped it around Vaeryna’s shoulders.

Aemond then took Vaeryna’s hand and smiled as the Septon tied their hands together by a ribbon.

“In the sight of the seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one, for eternity. Now you may look upon one another and say these vows together” exclaimed the Septon.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am his and he is mine from this day until the end of my days” said Vaeryna.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am hers and she is mine from this day until the end of my days” declared Aemond loudly.

“The vows have been spoken and the rings exchanged. You may kiss your bride”.

Aemond leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Vaeryna’s lips.

The celebration after their wedding was in full swing.

King Aegon was sat at the head of the table, with a smiling Alicent and Jaehaera by his side.

Vaeryna sat next to Aemond near the head of the table, smiling as many Lords and ladies came up to wish them well and bestow gifts upon them, while also enjoying the food of their feast. Borros Baratheon who glared pointedly at Aemond, Tyland Lannister, and one that seemed to linger, Dalton Greyjoy.

The young lord was similar in age to both Vaeryna and Aemond.

"Many good wishes, Princess Vaeryna. A match many shall pray for a fruitful outcome. I must admit Princess, the tales of your great beauty have not been exaggerated. Your skin is as beautiful as the freshly fallen snows of Winterfell and your eyes are more pretty than anything I’ve ever seen".

Vaeryna shifted uncomfortably in her seat and Aemond scowled.

"Thank you," nodded Vaeryna politely. 

A sudden loud roar spooked everyone as Cannibal flew over the Red Keep.

“Ahh yes, your Cannibal. I’ve heard he’s an impressive beast”.

“My Cannibal is not a beast” huffed Vaeryna.

“His ferocious nature is well known. How is it that you managed to claim such a creature?”

“I wouldn’t expect a Greyjoy to understand even the basic fundamentals of how a Targaryen claims a dragon” retorted Vaeryna.

“If you ever find yourself bored of Kings Landing, you can always visit the Iron Islands. I’m sure I can find something else for you to ride” replied Dalton smirking.

Aemond slammed his fist into the table as he rose sharply from his seat.

“You dare speak to my wife like that” snarled Aemond.

“Relax kinslayer. I was only jesting,” laughed Dalton.

SMACK!

Suddenly Dalton Greyjoy crumpled to the ground, clutching his bleeding nose.

“Never speak to me like that again” snarled Vaeryna.

“Y-You broke my nose” exclaimed Dalton.

“A broken nose will be the least of your worries if you do not remove yourself from my sight”.

“Vaeryna” gasped Aemond, his single amethyst eye wide in surprise.

“A kraken is no match for a dragon” exclaimed Vaeryna suddenly becoming aware of everyone staring at her.

“Quite right good sister. More wine I think” declared Aegon loudly as he handed Vaeryna a full goblet of wine and staggered away to get more.

“That was quite impressive” muttered Aemond.

“I am blood of the dragon, and I will not tolerate slanders” said Vaeryna.

“Hm” muttered Aemond.

“I wish to toast my brother Prince Aemond and my good siter Princess Vaeryna on their marriage. May it be long and fruitful” said Aegon loudly as he raised his cup.

“Thank you, Your Grace” said Vaeryna as she bowed respectfully.

“I think it’s time that we retired our chambers” muttered Aemond.

“-Yes brother. Time for the bedding” exclaimed Aegon eagerly.

“Don’t even think about it” snapped Aemond as he took hold of Vaeryna’s arm and marched her out of the Throne Room.

This was the moment that Vaeryna had been dreading. As Aemond had oddly enough refused a traditional bedding ceremony. They were able to walk to their shared chambers without a fuss.

After they had entered their shared chambers, Vaeryna stood in stoney silence as she stared at Aemond, her heart pounding in her chest.

There was no sense in prolonging the inevitable.

“Would you help me with the gown, husband?” asked Vaeryna as she turned from him and swept her hair away from her back to reveal a great number of fiddly buttons and laces.

“Of course,” replied Aemond as he reached forward and began undoing his wife’s wedding gown.

Soon she was stood in nothing but a thin shift and Aemond felt his heart quicken in his chest at the sight of her nipples through the sheer fabric.

This was the moment he’d been waiting for, he believed whole heartedly that Vaeryna belonged to him, she had returned to Kings Landing of her own volition and accepted the terms offered to her.

However, her brazen and openly defiant attitude was unbecoming of a lady, and the way she spoke to him, angered him greatly. She was rude, disrespectful, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

She had invaded his senses, driving him to the point of madness.

But then he discovered her involvement with Jacaerys, and he’d been consumed with anger and jealousy.

He was going to erase the memory of that bastard strong boy and make Vaeryna his.

Aemond began pulling off his own clothes as Vaeryna slowly sat on the bed.

He noticed that she trembled slightly as she pulled off her shift, revealing her naked body to him.

“You’re not afraid, are you?” asked Aemond as he discarded the last of his clothes.

Vaeryna shook her head slightly, avoiding her husband’s gaze.

Aemond placed his hand on Vaeryna’s shoulder and directed her to lay down.

He laid between his wife’s open legs, supporting his weight on his left arm as he reached down and took his hard cock in his hand and placed the tip of it against his wife’s entrance.

Vaeryna shut her eyes tight and took a deep breath as Aemond sheathed himself within her.

Aemond stopped as Vaeryna shrieked loudly in pain. He lifted his head and noticed that she had her eyes screwed shut.

He didn’t understand, she told him she’d bedded Jacaerys.

Aemond then pulled back slightly and looked down, his eye going wide at the blood staining his cock.

“-Y-You’re still a maid?”

Vaeryna didn’t answer she just turned her head to the side, avoiding his gaze.

“You lied to me. Why?” asked Aemond.

“You know why” replied Vaeryna, closing her eyes again as she felt Aemond’s cock twitching inside her.

“I-I can stop. If it’s too much” whispered Aemond.

“Just get on with it” muttered Vaeryna.

“Not if I’m hurting you”.

“Aemond stop being a girl and get on with it. You know as well as I do, that we must do this” snapped Vaeryna.

Aemond moved forward and grimaced at Vaeryna’s whimper of pain.

The tears rolled down Vaeryna’s cheeks as Aemond rutted against her.

All she could think of as Aemond continuously thrust his hard cock into her was Jace. Her first time should have been his, but Aemond had taken it and now she would never get it back.

Aemond gave a surprised moan as she involuntarily clenched around him.

Vaeryna dug her fingers into the sheets, not wanting to touch Aemond as the pace of his thrusts increased.

He buried his face into her neck and let out a long low groan as he spilled his seed inside her.

Eventually Aemond pulled his softened cock from her and sat on the edge of the bed.

Vaeryna rolled to her side and began to cry.

Aemond took his robe that was haphazardly thrown across the back of a chair and pulled it on.

He gazed at Vaeryna’s shaking form and suddenly he felt sick to his stomach, he wanted to erase the memory of Jacaerys, to make her his. But not like this.

He went to the privy and threw up. The wine he’d consumed earlier was now bitter and putrid on his tongue.

The gnawing feeling of disgust swirled in the pit of his stomach as he could still hear the sobs of his wife through the closed door.

He didn’t know how long he’d been in the privy, but when he returned to his chambers, Vaeryna had fallen asleep.

Aemond could see the blood stain on the sheets, and he was filled with bitter regret, he’d been so blinded by his rage and jealousy that he had taken what he wanted and never spared a thought for how she would feel.

If he had known she was still a maid, he would’ve been kinder, he would have prepared her and made sure she was comfortable.

He stood at the foot of the bed for what seemed like an age, simply staring at Vaeryna as she slept.

He once thought that he’d feel delighted at the sight of her tears, especially after she had mocked him for his involvement with Alys, but this wasn’t what he wanted.

As he pulled on a pair of loose breeches, he contemplated sleeping elsewhere but he knew if he did that, word would get back to his mother or the King, so he decided to stay.

After discarding his eyepatch on the nightstand Aemond slowly climbed into the bed and gazed at Vaeryna.

He could still see the faint tracks of dried tears on her face, and with a shaking hand he reached out and gently stroked her cheek.

“I’m sorry” whispered Aemond as he turned over and closed his eye.

The next morning Aemond awoke to the maids setting up breakfast in his chambers.

Aemond groaned as he pressed his face into his pillow, it was the worst night sleep he’d ever had.

“Apologise My Prince, I do not mean to disturb you, but your breakfast is ready”.

“Hm” muttered Aemond as he sat up, his palm pressed to the side of his face.

Once he’d slipped the eyepatch over his head, Aemond looked over his shoulder and frowned as the space Vaeryna had occupied last night was empty.

“Where is my wife?” asked Aemond as he rose from the bed.

“The Princess left early this morning, she’s with her dragon” replied the maid, her gaze lowered to the floor.

Rather than deal with the fall out from the previous night, Vaeryna had chosen to flee and seek solace with her Cannibal.

“Apologise My Prince but I must strip the bed, the sheets need to be presented” muttered the maid.

Of course, the blood and seed stained sheets would need to be displayed as proof that he’d done his duty and consummated the marriage.

Aemond nodded and sat at the table, but he couldn’t bring himself to eat.

He found himself thinking of Vaeryna and he hoped that she was ok, he briefly entertained the notion of mounting Vhagar and seeing if he could find her but he quicky dismissed that idea.

She had obviously fled the Red Keep because she wanted to be alone, and if that’s what she wanted then he would grant her that courtesy at least.

For the rest of the day Aemond tried to distract himself, he attended his usual training session with Ser Criston, but that did nothing to quell the feelings of disgust and uncertainty swirling within him.

He tried to visit the library and spend his usual hour reading, but he could not concentrate, the sound of Vaeryna’s pained whimpers had etched themselves into his mind.

He of course made sure to avoid Aegon at all costs, he couldn’t deal with the teasing japes his brother would no doubt levy against him.

The only place Aemond seemed to have any reprieve from his thoughts was the sept, he knelt at the alter and bowed his head, praying for forgiveness.

He remained on his knees until they began to ache, he figured it was his penance for the pain he’d inflicted upon his wife.

Eventually Aemond returned to his chambers, he’d skipped breakfast and lunch, and now he was starving.

He declined his mothers invite to dine with her and Aegon, claiming he preferred to dine alone with his wife.

Of course, his mother knew that Vaeryna had spent the day with Cannibal, but she didn’t comment further, and he was glad for it. He wasn’t sure he could deal with her lecturing him.

Aemond opened the door to his chambers and came to stop as he spotted Vaeryna sitting at the table.

“I think we need to talk” muttered Vaeryna.

“Yes. We do” replied Aemond as he took a seat across from his wife.

“I didn’t know what food you would like so I just asked the maids to bring everything”.

Despite his hunger, Aemond didn’t reach for any food. That gnawing feeling of uncertainty raising to the surface.

“You were married to Jacaerys?” asked Aemond.

“I was” replied Vaeryna.

“Yet you did not lay with him. Why?”

“We wanted to wait until the war was over, at the time he was still betrothed to Baela, and we couldn’t risk Corlys finding out. Mother needed her alliance with the Velaryon’s. We had this dreamy idea of having a proper ceremony later and then we could be together” said Vaeryna.

“You should have been honest with me”.

“You were angry because you thought I had bedded my brother and yet you seem angry that I didn’t. I thought you would have preferred that I was a maid” replied Vaeryna.

“Had I known I would not have been so careless. I hurt you and I bitterly regret it”.

“Wasn’t that what you wanted-to hurt me?” asked Vaeryna quietly.

“No, despite the fact that you infuriate me beyond all reason, I had no such desire to hurt you” said Aemond sadly.

“I-I’m sorry. I should have told you the truth” muttered Vaeryna.

Aemond simply nodded his head as he reached forward and began to fill his plate with food.

“You said you married Jace in the Vale”.

“Yes, I don’t think the ceremony could be classed as being official. As it was just us” said Vaeryna.

“D-Did you love him?” asked Aemond.

“Yes, I did. Very much” replied Vaeryna.

 “Hm”

“Did you love Alys?” asked Vaeryna.

“I thought I did” said Aemond.

“I met her you know”.

“Y-You did?” exclaimed Aemond.

“I flew to Harrenhal just before my father abandoned it and I saw them together”.

“That must have been difficult” muttered Aemond.

“It was, but in truth my mother and father had began to drift apart after Luke’s death and what happened to Jaehaerys-“

“-She knew about it” said Aemond sharply.

“I’m not sure what you were told, but my mother didn’t know about Blood and Cheese until after Jaehaerys was killed, she was lost in her grief for Luke” replied Vaeryna.

Aemond reached for his cup of wine and took a large sip.

“She went to Shipbreaker Bay”.

“What?” asked Aemond.

“After she received word of Luke’s death, she took Syrax and spent hours searching for his body".

“Oh” whispered Aemond, lowering his gaze.

“When you killed him, not only did you commit the gravest of sins, but without Luke’s body, my mother was denied the solace of honouring the traditional customs of a Valyrian funeral”.

“-And that warrants the murder of my nephew?”

“No. It wasn’t the murder of Luke that facilitated your nephews murder, it was the blatant disrespect that Aegon showed by throwing a feast and celebrating what you did. Not to mention you broke the law by killing a messenger. Aegon has the nerve to call himself King, yet he does nothing to uphold the laws of the land. If he had half a brain, he should’ve had you imprisoned and immediately sent his apology to my mother. Yes, you killed my brother, but it was Aegon’s own incompetence that contributed to the death of his son” said Vaeryna.

Aemond sat there stunned to silence as he processed what Vaeryna had just said, and he was ashamed to admit that in part she was right. Throwing a feast to celebrate was not only disrespectful but it made it look like Aegon had authorized Luke’s death.

In all his guilt, anger and regret he never once considered other factors that could have contributed to what happened to his nephew, it was just easier to blame Daemon and Rhaenyra.

“She spoke to me. Alys-I mean” said Vaeryna.

“W-What did she say?” asked Aemond.

“Told me that my silver haired babe would be King one day. Of course, at the time I thought she was referring to a son that I would have with Jace, but now I realize that she was referring to my son with you”

“Do you think that means you are with child?”

“Too soon to tell, but I guess well find out in a few weeks if your seed has taken root or not” said Vaeryna softly.

[astreamofwishfulthinking]

When you went over the side of your friend's boat, you didn't exactly panic. You'd researched this area thoroughly and knew that it was famous for tossing people off boats. That didn't mean you expected it to happen to you.

Your eyes were shut tight instinctively, but you could feel the water churning all around you. You hoped most of it was the boat above you. You'd already lost track of the surface, but you really had done your research and knew that wasn't unusual. Too bad you hadn't wanted to wear the ill-fitting life jacket.

Forcing yourself to open your eyes, you tried to look for the sunlight and pay attention to your body's natural inclination to float. Everything was refracted light and shades of green and you tried so hard not to panic.

You weren't even sure if your breath was running out or if that was fear putting pressure on your chest.

Your friends would come back for you. It didn't matter that you'd been alone at the back of the boat. Someone would notice soon and they would be back.

Panic had you almost at the point of thrashing about when you felt something brush you. It increased your panic and suddenly you were thrashing and kicking aggressively. Whatever brushed you came back again, but this time it looped around your waist and clenched tight.

Suddenly, you were being jerked through the water. The suddenness and the small size of the cord around you cut into your abdomen painfully and caused you to inhale water. If you didn't have cuts, you'd definitely have bruises. But that could be forgiven as two sets of brawny arms reached into the water to pull you out.

They pulled you into their boat and you flopped onto the ground and choked out the water you'd inhaled on the way up. Your nose streamed and your whole body hurt from the spasms of the wracking coughs.

When you finally got your breathing under control enough to look around, you saw three men standing over you talking amongst themselves. All had dark skin and biceps as big as your head. One held a towel out to you while still in deep conversation with his friends. They spoke a language you didn't recognize.

You took the towel and patted your face before wrapping it tightly around your shoulders. You weren't cold in the summer sun, but you couldn't stop shivering either.

The man who'd held out the towel ushered you into a seat even as he continued his discussion. You were beginning to worry they didn't speak your language at all.

When you huddled in your seat, gripping your towel, and feeling dwarfed by them looming above you they finally seemed to realize you might need some reassurance.

"Hey there sweetheart. We're gonna take you to shore and let you call your people." The man speaking was not the one who'd offered the towel. His hair was in beautifully done braids. "We often save tourists from the water. It's a bit of a… hobby… for us."

The hesitation on the word "hobby" had been slight. You wondered what word he'd originally planned to use. You wondered if you were just water logged.

They left you alone then. They promised to be back with water and something to help settle your stomach.

The moment you were fully alone, you suddenly remembered the phone in your pocket. You really had researched this trip. You'd planned for it. All except that stupid life jacket. But for now what mattered was that the phone in your pocket was in a waterproof case.

You pulled it out and opened the group text with your friends. You didn't try to call because you knew they likely couldn't hear anything over the sound of either boat's engine. You let them know that you'd been pulled from the water and were being brought to shore. You'd update with more details once you had them.

You got a response almost immediately. Your friend Amelia was on her phone constantly and you'd had a feeling you'd hear from her first.

Your phone began buzzing with messages of relief and gratitude. You grinned down at it as you tried to reassure them. They had been going in circles looking for you. The two strongest swimmers had tried going in after you. They were on the cusp of calling for help when you texted.

When you finally looked up again, you saw the man who'd given you the towel staring at you like he was thunderstruck. No, not at you. At your phone.

He saw you looking and quickly wiped the expression off his face. "Most people we rescue don't have waterproof cases. Smart." He put the water bottle and some crackers into your hand.

"I'll be back to sit with you. Make sure nothin' happens. Just gotta tell the captain something." You gave him a brief nod before looking back to your phone and incoming messages.

You couldn't have known that this was no ordinary group of men. You'd stumbled into the grasp of four kelpies. They absolutely did patrol this area for tourists who'd gone overboard.

Once they had them on board a new game began. They all had skill at discerning intent and some emotions.

The tourists were judged. Those who had kind hearts were brought back to shore. Those who had darker hearts had darker ends. A kelpie had to eat.

Many of their brethren preferred it the other way around, but they spent enough time in their human forms to enjoy getting assholes back.

You were different. You smelled divine. Your energy felt blissful. And they'd been looking for a mate for far too long. You smelled like their mate.

They'd been arguing over how to keep you. The majority vote was to brainwash you into believing you were theirs. If you believed it enough then no one could take you away. They would give you time to "recover" your memories. Never knowing that the kelpies were keeping your memories repressed.

Your phone had changed things. You were their first passenger to have a working phone. They hadn't even considered it as a danger to their plans.

Now they would have to bring you to shore and woo you the hard way.

[annymation]

Kingdom of Wishes- A "Wish" Rewrite AUs

AUs are Alternate Universes, new ways to look at how a story could've gone if a few things were slightly different, it's a fun writing exercise to take your story and change it up a bit to see how the characters would react to these changes.

So I did that with my wish rewrite, and I came up with some pretty fun scenarios.

(Warning: that’s a lie, some scenarios here are not fun at all)

So let's begin:

Asha the Star & Aster the Human

That's exactly what it sounds like, Asha and Aster switch places!

In this scenario, Aster is an orphan whose mother was a musician, that's right, musician, not an artist

His grandfather used to say his mother could sing so beautifully and write songs so engaging that people could see whole stories form in their heads, she inspired people to imagine whole new worlds

That was Aster's dream, to write beautiful melodies, sing a song that could inspire people, see beyond reality

So same things that happened with Asha happen to him, he defies the royals (Who also change in this AU, we have Amaya as a queen regnant, so she's above in power than Magnifico, she being the one who has blue blood while he got married in, and their personalities switch. To me that's the funniest thing, like can you imagine Amaya as the drama queen that get's the whole spotlight and has anger outbursts sometimes like the Red Queen and Maleficent? While Mag is in the background just being calm, mysterious and I guess having a fatherly persona? What a twisted vision)

Anyway so they take Aster's wish, change it up yada yada yada Aster goes to make a wish upon a star and we get Star Asha babeeeyyy

Now design wise, Aster as a human would have brown hair, while Asha, as all wishing stars, would have blonde hair, with this hair style

Loooooong blonde braids that flow in the air constantly like Princess Celestia hair from MLP, and speaking of princess, yeah, she dresses like one too.

Imagine being human Aster here, you wish upon a star and suddenly a beautiful magical princess with gorgeous flowing hair shows up to help you, I would've died

So anyway, Asha has a very energetic and optimistic personality, and much like Aster was in Kow, she's fascinated by earth

When they come up with a plan to inspire the people of Rosas, Asha's idea is to make people draw, express how they feel, make them reflect if they're really happy with this system

Aster of course thinks that's not a good idea at first but she convinces him, so the whole arc of them being found out at the plaza happens yada yada yada let's cut to the good stuff

Instead of giving Aster a magic pencil, Asha enchants his's grandfather's mandolin, so Aster can play beautiful songs that can magically bring anything he imagines to life

So then we get their "At All Cost"... But I actually think Star Asha would sing a different song, she'd sing something like this:

This song just gives me major Kow! Asha vibes, and I'd love if Asha was played by Denee Benton cause I'm a huge fan.

And then the story proceeds as usual and we get to the climax, where instead of singing This Wish Reprise he'd sing something more like this:

Once again, I'm here to say I love Jordan Fisher and I can't imagine anyone better than him to voice Aster.

So yeah he'd have a very dramatic song where instead of using his guitar (That the queen broke) he uses only his voice and the last bit of Asha's magic to defeat the royals, along with everyone's hopes on his side.

Sooo yeah Asha later turns into a human thanks to true love's kiss, her hair turns dark brown, the end!

I like exploring this one because it shows how Asha and Aster are different with her being an artist and him being a musician, human Aster would be very different than the Aster we know though, being absolutely focused on the task at hand of saving his people, so Asha would help him loosen up a bit and have hope things would be better.

Kids AU

Okay so this one is more of a joke, but like... Kingdom of Wishes... But it's Ponyo, only genderbent

Basically I asked myself "What if Asha wished upon Aster when she was a kid?" well, when she was a kid, so was Aster.

So we'd have a story of a little 6 year old becoming friends with her wishing star. While her grandpa Sabino, still alive and very old, tries to hide this star and protect his spunky granddaughter from the king and queen that are after Aster

Of course the royals would have a harder time finding out who could've wished upon a star since they don't know who Asha is as a kid

But on the other hand, Asha and Aster would be a lot more naive and reckless, Aster would tell Asha "Hey! The king and queen are really mean! They change the wishes, wanna defeat them together" and Asha would be like "YEAH!" and off they go put themselves in danger

Don't think Magnifico would go easy on Aster just because he's a toddler, oh no, he'd drain all this child's power as soon as he caught his hands on them, which is why Sabino would be having a panic attack trying to keep them safe.

But what's really cute about this scenario is just imagining kid Aster interacting with the world, using his magic to play with Asha, and of course Sabino being a protective grandpa.

Bad Ending AUs

You guys know me, of course I have a whole section for not one but TWO bad endings lmao I'm so evil.

What If Asha's Cursed Wish Was Granted?

Yup, remember Asha's cursed wish? That would turn her into a obedient princess that would follow Magnifico and Amaya without question? Remember that wish? Yeah what if THAT happened hahah

Anyway, I thinks it's best if I just show you how that'd play out (Warning, the angst is STRONG in this one):

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

"That's right, now hold still my dear, this will feel just like waking up from a pleasant dream." The king said as he lifted up her "wish" to grant it.

Asha felt herself frozen in fear, she wanted to speak up, but the fear of what could happen to her if she did outweighed her her strength to fight back.

She could only watch as the bubble popped and became a swirl of green magic enveloping all around her. Asha felt herself change, and not only because her clothes began to magically morph into a beautiful dress... She felt herself change from the inside out, starting with her mind.

Her desire to run away was muffled by a new desire to stay still as the king asked her to. But Asha knew she had to fight back because- Why did she have to fight back? This is what she wanted, to fit in and make people happy, now she finally could, thanks to Magnifico- Asha heard a voice that sounded like her's fill up her mind, popping any idea of resistance like bubbles- Why resist at all? It's easier to give up- She couldn't give up, she couldn't lose herself- But she doesn't even know who she is, and everyone tells her she's like a princess anyway, don't they? Her saba used to say so, her friends, even Aster said she's beautiful like a princess-... Why isn't he here?

She felt her eyes welling up with tears, realizing how helpless and alone she was. Asha knew she couldn't hold on to her consciousness for much longer, as the king's magic promised to make all her pain go away, leaving only bliss, her own freewill was fading away. But even then, a little bit of her is still fighting, tightly clinging onto the last semblance of thought she has left... Before it suddenly slips, and everything is gone… She is gone.

... She did feel like she woke up from a dream, the king was right, as he always is.

The magic that was surrounding her disappears, fully absorbed into Asha's very being. She's now fully transformed, wearing a princess gown, her hair braided and pulled up into a bun that resembled a rose.

... A single tear ran down her left eye, but the cheering crowd couldn't see it. All they saw was her smile, a blissful, carefree smile plastered on her face.

...

Aster ran back to the plaza as fast as he could. But once the star arrived there... Asha was gone, and so were the royals. The people were walking around commenting about what just happened... He heard people mumbling about how kind the king and queen were for adopting an orphan girl to be their princess...

All it took was one moment, one moment of distraction, one moment that Aster turned away from her... And he lost her... But they wouldn't give up, never, as long as he's on this earth, he will grant her wish, her true wish, no matter the cost.

The star didn't even think twice, revealing his true form in front of everyone, and flying off to the castle to look for Asha.

He looked through all the windows, all the many rooms of the castle, until he stumbles upon a room on the west wing tower, and in there, sleeping peacefully on a comfortable bed, he saw-

"ASHA!" The star screamed, using his magic to unlock the window, he got in and quickly shook her to wake her up "Come on! We gotta get you outta here!"

The princess rose up from the bed, gracefully stretching her arms as she did so, blinking her now unfocused eyes, that if you look closely you could see a small and faint green light sparkling in the center of her pupils.

She smiled at the star as if they were paying her a visit "Greetings Aster, so wonderful to see you-"

Aster grabbed her by the shoulders and just shook her back and forth "SNAP OUT OF IT! This isn't you! You're stronger than his magic, I know you are! You can fight it! Come on, Asha, look at me!" Aster gently places a hand under her chin to make her look at him in the eyes, he can't see her spark anymore... But he still reaches out to her "You wished upon me because you wanted to SAVE Rosas from them, remember? That's the whole reason I'm here, to help you." they give her a bittersweet smile, even though he's filled with sadness.

The girl giggled, in any other context it would be an adorable sound... But it just filled Aster with dread, seeing how his words weren't getting through to her at all. But nothing could've prepared Aster to what she said next "... Then where were you when I needed?"

... Those words pierced through him like a dagger, the star was speechless, now just staring at her, filled with sorow

"Indeed, where were you?"

Aster froze upon hearing the king's voice coming from the other side of the room. He turned around to see both Magnifico and Amaya sitting on comfortable chair next to a table with tea, if Aster could smell he would've probably felt the sent earlier.

"You took so long we were starting to wonder if you just flew back to the sky" Amaya said before sipping on her tea cup

Aster tried to escape through the window, but before he could reach it, he was trapped by the king's magic.

Magnifico and Amaya laughed as the star struggled with all his might to free himself from the king's magic, to which the king just jeered "I suppose a princess was of use to us after all, serving as bait to catch you, little prince"

And just like that, Aster is all alone at the villains mercy.

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

I tricked yall with a false sense of security starting with two wholesome AUs only to then drop the most heart crushing stuff I've written in a WHILE.

Also thank you @gracebeth3604 for inspiring me to write that scene of Asha losing her conscience as the spell took hold of her, when you helped me write that nightmare sequence in chapter 8... So yall can blame Grace for this /j

Aster Turns Himself Into A Blackhole

What a title huh? Anyway, I've said plenty of times how Aster is very inspired by Rapunzel, so I wondered, what if that "Wither and decay" song from the Tangled series affected Aster the same way that it affected Rapunzel?

I didn't quite explore much Aster's frustration with the fact he couldn't hurt the king and queen the same way they hurt Asha, that's kind of a more internal frustration he doesn't show much, but it proves how human Aster is, to the point that he feels human emotions such as vengeance

But as we say here in Brazil: "Revenge is never complete, it kills the soul and poisons it."

So... Let's see if Aster choose a darker path, after he thought that he lost Asha for good in the climax.

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

Aster was chained to the floor, all he could do was watch in horror the king drop Asha and all their friends off the tower.

... She was gone...

Just like that, Aster couldn't keep her safe, like he promised he would.

Without her, Aster felt his world growing dark, his own light was fading away. There was no hope for him, no hope for Rosas, no hope of granting her wish... So... Aster had nothing... So he had nothing left to lose.

... The star remembered once listening to a song, a song that stars sing when they're at the very end of their long, LOOOOONG lives. After all, everything must come to an end. The lyrics of this song were actually an incantation, a spell of death that allowed a star to snuff their own light away, turning themselves into... Something else... Something a lot more destructive.

The stars always warned him to NEVER sing that melody. And fly away as fast as he could if he ever heard some other star singing it... Aster never knew fully why, all they said was that the song would make him dangerous...

Well then... That was just what Aster wanted to be right now.

Suddenly, Aster felt the touch of the queen's hand, snapping them out of their thoughts. She lifted his scowling face, to give him a snark comment before they began to drain away his power "What's with the grimace, my dear? Is there something you wish to say?"

And so... The star began to sing.

"🎶... Wither and decay...🎶" Aster's voice was haunting, not at all as warm and lively as it always was when he sang... This was different.

Magnifico was previously looking down on his people, but the sound of those lyrics made the king turn around in cold sweat... He knew that spell.

"🎶...End this destiny...🎶" Aster continued to sing, his eyes were closed, and his face began to contort with discomfort. The star felt himself... Change.

The queen just raised an eyebrow and mocked "What's this? Trying to put us to sleep with a lullaby? hahaha *cough cough* haha" She didn't seem to pay much mind to her own coughing

The king minded it a lot though. He could see the roses on Amaya's hair begin to wither rapidly.

Magnifico's voice was trembling as he ran to his wife "A- Amaya-"

"🎶...Break these earthly chains...🎶" Aster opened his eyes... They were completely dark.

The queen's blood ran cold "wh-what ON EARTH-" she feels herself being pulled away from the star by her husband.

"ENOUGH! I ORDER YOU TO STOP!" The king commands, using his magic to cover Aster's mouth with glowing vines similar to the ones holding him down... But the star... Or rather, whatever Aster is becoming, is not weak to forbidden magic.

Aster breaks free from Magnifico's magic, leaving the two royals mortified.

"🎶…And set the spirit free…🎶" Aster didn't even react to the fact he was free, in fact, they didn't seem to notice the world around him at all, lost in their despair, all they could do was sing, floating above the ground. Tears kept running down his now inky black eyes.

Their hair changes from a yellow and lively flame to a dark and slowly shifting shadow. The star dust flowing out of their cape disappears, now his cape hides only dark nothingness under it. The light coming from the brooch bellow his neck now resembles a vortex... A blackhole.

"Magnus... I thought you said this thing was harmless" The queen is clinging to her king, she begins to feel... Strangely lightheaded, like she’s about to pass out.

"I- I didn't think the star would do this- *cough!*" The king feels a pain in his chest, his legs growing weaker. He stumbles forward "We- we must leave NOW"

But Aster had other plans for them, the former star finally moved. In the blink of an eye the king and him were face to face. With one swift motion Aster took the king's staff and threw it away from the edge of the tower.

The royals were shaking in fear, the entity was towering over them, dark inky tears still flooding his expressionless face.

As a last resort, Magnus desperately tries to reason with them "He-hehe now now Aster, let's talk about this, alright? You wouldn't actually want to-"

"🎶Take what has been hurt🎶" The haunting melody continues.

The king and queen kneeled down. They felt weaker by the second, the queen was whimpering and the king was gasping for air. It was becoming hard to breathe, hard to move, hard to think. They were both holding on to each other, even though they could barely hold on to their own lives.

"🎶Grant them no mercy🎶" Aster was looming over the two mortals, staring at them as they withered away. Aster felt himself grow stronger, for he was slowly but surely absorbing their very life essence... The corners of his mouth started to lift up slightly.

The two villains collapsed on the ground, shaking and wincing in pain.

"🎶Bend and break the reigns🎶" He was previously emotionless, but now, seeing them like this, Aster is consumed by a feeling he never thought he could feel before... It was ruthlessness. He was enjoying seeing the life drain away from them, the same way they wanted to drain his life away before... In a way, Aster understands them now.

The power to take was really different from the power to give... But if felt just as good, if not better.

"🎶And set the spirit free... The spirit free~...🎶" Aster finishes the lyrics, looking at the two lifeless bodies below him with twisted glee.

... Asha arrived at the top of the tower, as she never actually died, she managed to save herself and her friends with her magic pencil, and with it, she made her way back to Aster, hopeful that she could save him in an nick of time

"Aster! I'm here! Are you o-" She felt her heart stop, her whole body frozen in place when she saw the corpses of the two royals laying down... Beneath a floating figure that looks like Aster... But she knows that's not him "What... What have you done?" Asha takes a few steps back

He doesn't seem at all surprised to see her alive and well, simply tilting his head to the side as he floats towards her "What I had to. I mean, that's what you wished for, right? To defeat them." The creature spoke calmly, but with a twisted smile spread across their features.

"No-not like THIS!" She was trembling, seeing her own reflection on the dark pools that he now has for eyes "A-Aster please, this isn't funny, turn back to normal, NOW"

"Hmmmmm I don't think I can" They shrug, while drying the tears that were previously falling from his eyes "And even if I could, why should I? When like this, I can actually keep you safe"

"... Keep me safe from what?" She felt tears welling up on the corner of her eyes, Aster couldn't really be gone, right?

He embraced her, but it wasn't the same warm and secure embrace Asha fell in love with... He was holding her tightly, not letting her run away.

"From anyone who tries to keep us apart, of course." The blackhole whispered lovingly, but that gave Asha no comfort, it only cemented her fear, sending chills down her spine "And as long as your wish doesn't come true... As long as aaaaall those people down there aren't free... I'll be able to stay here... Loving you... Forever." They sound more and more deranged with every word.

Asha felt trapped, in the arms of the one she once loved.

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I bet ya'll weren't expecting evil Aster... Welp! Evil Aster is a thing now.

This is probably the darkest thing I’ve ever wrote for real, don’t let me do this again yall

@uva124 actually sneaked a little drawing of this Aster in one of her sketches here

So yeah! These were the alternate AUs! Two wholesome ones, and two very heavy with no comfort ones, perfectly balanced as all things should be.

Hope you guys forgive me after this hahaha see you guys next time! Bye!

Thank you for reading!

[depeshemode]

so i’ve been meaning to make one of these posts anyway to have all my favorite Mike pics in one place. this is the perfect opportunity now, these are for @exsqueezememacaroni thank you again for the Q+A my friend, it really made my whole week.

(not quite all) but most of my favorite Mike pics. ‘favorite’ either because of how he looks in them or bc of the picture itself coming out beautifully. many of these make me smile when i look at them so i hope they have the same effect on you.

[putting it under the cut bc this post came out long haha. i love to talk about Mike whoops]

starting with TRT era: the first pic here idk the context of but for some reason i love the stance with his fists clenched.

second pic… yeah 😆 i love any pic from that particular show, they’re all gems. they definitely have influenced the vampire au a good bit.

^ okay KFAD Mike is one of my favorites. idk what it was about him but he looked extra cuddly to me. a guy you could wrap your arms around and hug for hours. the pic of him in bed i just love so much he looks so cozy.

^^^ and you already know but i LOVE cop Mike during the cali tour…. these two pics in particular live in my head 🫣 vvv

and then there's my favorite Mike, Tomahawk era. i guess more specifically the early 2000s stuff. i love all the costumes he wore, and the crop tops and gas masks... ough. and the THONG picture will forever be a classic.

and the rest below are all from fantomas era and later

this one is my favorite of what i call 'creature mode Mike' vvv

okay THIS picture i love bc of how close it is. i feel like im standing right next to him and could lean forward and give him a kiss on the cheek.

Mike with braids!!

and then there's old man cowboy Mike... obsessed with it, i feel like i walked into a barn and found him sluttily laying on some hay (bonus points for the white tank top with his nips poking through). also the fact that Buzz took this one in particular makes me giggle

and last but not least in any way... this picture of Mike on his knees. he looks sooooo subby here, i think about this one a lot. the way the collar(?) is draped over his head. and the way he's sitting... lord, it makes me wanna crawl across the ceiling.

anyway thanks for coming to my TEDtalk about Mike Patton

[theobsessedbrunet]

Yes

One-shot, Parings: Neteyam x y/n

 You had a bad habit of sneaking out at night and wander around the beach and sometimes the forest. Everything was so much more different during the night, more peaceful. You loved the peace, it gave you a chance to think and get in touch with your inner feelings.

 There was a small pond in the forest, surrounded by the these beautiful pink and blue flowers that glowed during the night. It was a walk away from the beach, not too deep in the forest. The bottom of the pond was covered alga that glowed, it showed how clear the water was. This place had become your safe haven. A place where you escaped reality.

 Except tonight you couldn't escape.

 After the village had gone to sleep, you once again snuck there, your chest heavy with anxiety. You rarely felt like this. It was concerning. Did you feel like this because of Neteyam? The answer was yes.

 A few days ago he started acting different. You couldn't really pinpoint how exactly and it made you crazy. You both knew there was loving between you, more than a friendship growing. He hasn't been distant or gotten more closer. It was the feeling you got when you were together. You felt he was different.

 As you dipped your legs into the pond, a sigh escaped out of you. You needed to calm down. Overthinking wasn't helping, it never did. You placed your hand over chest and breathed in, breathed out again and again until your heartbeat calmed down.

 It picked up again as you heard steps in fornt of you. You never had seen any animals here or na'vi. Your hand flew to your knife that hung around your waist. Eyes scanning the forest, ears picking up the steps that got closer. A blue hand came to view as they moved the plants out of their way.

 Neteyam knew he would find you there. He never followed you here nor did know when you had the time to come here. He was getting to know the beach and it's surroundings. that’s when he found this place. At the edge of the pond was a handmade flower crown. You loved making them.

 Your hand placed the knife back as your eyes widened in shock. "Neteyam." You breathed out.

 "Hi." He lightly smiled, eyes moving from your frame to the glowing plants. It was truly beautiful here. But as his eyes travelled back to you, it was clear that you were the most beautiful one here.

 "What are you doing here?"

 Neteyam sat down and placed his legs into the water as well. He rubbed the back of his neck, yellow eyes flickering. "I wanted to come here to think."

 "Oh." Your eyes fell down to the water, It reflected the glow so beautifully back. You could't help but look at Neteyam. His braids laid on his shoulders which were surprisingly tense. You could see his muscles flexing a little as his eyebrows furrowed deep in thought. He was good looking and the glow that surrounded you didn't do him justice.

 "Actually, I wanted to talk to you." Neteyam said suddenly, hesitation turning into determination as your eyes met. You nodded at him, giving him a sign that you were listening. You could see his chest rising and falling down with every breath he took. It was mesmerizing.

 "Say yes to me."

 Your eyes flew to meet his. They had so many shades in them, shifting from light to darker. Did he just ask that? Did he mean that? Your lips parted as you tried to say something, but he had you speachless. This was why he had been different. 

 "Say yes to me." He said again, more prominently as he stared back into your eyes, waiting for an answer. Neteyam was nervous, he had thought about this so many times. How he would do it, when and where he would do it. That's why he came there tonight to make the decision but it seemed that Eywa had made the decision for him. 

 He stared back at you as your lips parted and then turned into a shy smile. Your cheeks reddened as you finally managed muttered your answer to him.

 "Yes."

[lamemaster]

Daughter-in-law of Feanorian Household (Maedhros x Reader)

Summary: a glimpse of how do your in-laws see your relationship with Maitimo.

genre: fluff

Some people are born to love, with the perfect recipe to find their other half. It's truly satisfying to witness their love. Even Tyelkormo, the gremlin of the Feanorian household, could see it. You and Nelyo were annoyingly good for each other. Every moment he witnessed you two together, he couldn't help but notice how beautifully the world shaped itself around you and his eldest brother.

Seated on the farthest couch, he observes as you follow Nelyo, trailing behind him with a befuddled look. Of course, his brother was late for court, again. "By Illuvatar!" Nelyo exclaims, one minute away from turning over the living room. "I swear I left my brooch here." The redhead is busy turning over the entire cabinet and you merely turn to wink at Tyelko, who remains mildly amused.

Tyelko watches as you walk to his mountain of a brother and gently turn him, whispering, "Here," as you open your fist with the brooch magically resting in it. "You forgot to take it off last night," you add as Nelyo returns to normal. Standing on your toes, you pull Nelyo closer, and for a moment, Tyelko wonders if he should leave, but he stops when you clip the brooch on Nelyo's cloak.

Tyelko can't help but witness the adoration in his brother's eyes, the soft look that melts with Laurelin's rays. For the next hour, he finds himself unable to move as he observes the subtle dance between you and Nelyo. It's as if you know his brother's needs better than Nelyo himself. His brooch, his papers, his quill, his satchel. Nelyafinwe's world revolves around you.

Nerdanel quickly figures out that her eldest is sulking, but the realization leaves her gawking at an unfinished statue. Maitimo doesn't notice the change in her expression, and thank Illuvatar for that! By some miracle, Nerdanel doesn't drop her chisel.

"I mean I've already looked over all the arrangements for the month. I've finished my court duties. Yet, I can't go," Maitimo drapes himself over the nearest chaise.

It's barely been two days since you left to visit your parents, a visit that is supposed to last a month. A month that Nerdanel suspects won't come to fruition if left to her eldest. "I barely have anything to do, amil," Maitimo whines. He's whining! Nerdanel finds herself with a 500-year-old elfling moping next to her, all because he misses you. He came to her to complain or maybe hear the words he really wanted - a suggestion to visit you.

Ai, Maitimo. Nerdanel resists the urge to coo at her son. Her son has always been the responsible one, and to watch him like this...Nerdanel can't help but find it endearing. Today, she won't give him the satisfaction of the answer he craves. For now, she wants to enjoy watching her son act petulantly.

Maybe tomorrow she would 'suggest' him to visit you.

The first time Maitimo brought Kano to meet you, he wore his best clothes. Kano, being a prince, had plenty of good tunics to choose from, so he carefully weighed the merits of each piece of clothing in his wardrobe the day before meeting you.

He had been excited to get an inside scoop on Maitimo's secret before any of his other brothers. Even his amil and atar had yet to find out.

But then, Makalaure met you in an unsuspecting garden, and a normal day turned into a life-changing event. He knew from the moment he met you that you were special to his brother and why.

You were kind and attentive, complimenting Kano on his tunic and listening intently to his compositions, praising every one of his songs. In Kano's eyes, you were the only one worthy of his brother.

Maitimo was all smiles, a contrast to his usual mid-day scowl. Kano noticed his brother's meticulously brushed and intricately braided hair, as well as the ruby hairpin holding your hair back. The lifted corners of his brother's mouth were enough indication that Maitimo was pleased. Immensely pleased must he add.

Even now, Kano can remember your shocked expression and Maitimo's flustered mumbling when he accidentally called you "nesa" at the end of your first meeting.

It didn't take long before you became Kano's nesa, his first sister-in-law, and the one he felt closest to.

[charmandabear]

Out of the (Coat) Closet

Summary

Wyll's coronation is boring, so Astarion and Rosalind look for somewhere more interesting.

Pairing: Astarion/nb!Tav

Rating: E

Word Count: 2.9k

Tags/Warnings: PwP, post-game, drunk sex, chubby Tav, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, body worship, blood drinking, named Tav

I owe my life to @zipzoomzaria for the incredible screenshot in the banner. Go follow her yesterday. I really wanted more fics with explicitly chubby Tavs! Hence this was born. I also don't see a ton of nb!Tavs, so two birds and all that.

Part 1 | Part 2 ~ Read on AO3

Rosalind shifted in their chair uncomfortably. This was maybe the third? fourth? stuffy speech of the evening. They were happy to support Wyll in his coronation as grand duke, but anyone would have a limit to how many old politicians they can listen to drone on in an evening. The ceremony itself was blessedly short and so Rosalind thought that they all could unwind and properly celebrate at the dinner afterward. But not only was Wyll not able to sit with them, dinner apparently wasn’t being served until after the speeches. Which means Rosalind was on maybe their third or fourth glass of champagne (they started timing it with the speeches halfway through the second) and had barely a bite to eat.

Rosalind glanced around at their companions, studying the rest of their reactions. Karlach and Gale were both absolutely rapt, though almost certainly for different reasons. Karlach’s eyes swam with pride for Wyll, occasionally dabbing them with a dainty white handkerchief before tucking it back into the plunging neckline of her stunning black dress. Gale, on the other hand, was hanging onto every word of the man older than Withers currently giving a speech. Trying to extract any knowledge he somehow didn’t already have from this living fossil.

Rosalind’s eyes slipped to Lae’zel and Shadowheart, sharing a quiet moment of intimacy. Shadowheart was tracing something onto her partner’s palm, and Lae’zel was watching along with eyes as wide as saucers. Rosalind loved seeing Lae’zel drop her guard like this, and Shadowheart always brought out the best in her. Shadowheart’s silver locks were styled in a chunky braid resting on her shoulder, little rings and jewels making it sparkle in the low light. Her satiny steel blue dress hung off her figure beautifully, and it contrasted with Lae’zel’s purple and burgundy dress that nearly resembled armor. A swirling silver neckline adorned with a scarlet stone came up high on Lae’zel’s neck and spilled out across her shoulders, making the shimmery violet fabric hanging from it seem delicate in comparison.

Lae’zel and Shadowheart pressed their foreheads together, and it was clear to Rosalind that they were in their own little realm.

Jaheira and Halsin were surreptitiously passing notes to one another while trying to maintain the respectable facade that they were paying attention. Rosalind knew by the way their faces were contorting that they were each trying to make the other break. They couldn’t tell which of the two druids was closer to winning, as the silk leaves adorning both of their formalwear were shaking with their suppressed laughter. Minsc, on the other hand, stared out into space, not a single thought going through that man’s head. Rosalind briefly wondered if he had learned to communicate with Boo telepathically, because they briefly heard small squeaks coming from beneath his fine leather tunic.

And then there was Astarion. Gods, Rosalind could hardly stand the sight of him, he looked so good. His midnight black tunic made of velvet and silk with gold embroidery down the front hugged his lithe chest perfectly. The high collar came up just enough for his scar to peek over the top, a scar which Rosalind had pressed many beautiful, desperate, sad kisses to. The site of his first trauma, they wanted to reclaim it for their own and turn it into a source of love and lust rather than angst and terror. He was unconsciously twirling a steak knife in his fingers and Rosalind just stared at the blade deftly moving across his knuckles. Their throat went dry as they remembered the last time they were this focused on his fingers, and Astarion’s eyes snapped up to meet with theirs. Can he read their thoughts? No, Rosalind mused, more likely their pulse quickened at the memory and he could hear the change in heartbeat. They hated that they telegraphed their lust that loudly for him. Astarion smirked mischievously.

He dropped the knife and moved his hand into his lap before sneakily reaching under the table to touch Rosalind’s leg through the thigh-high slit in their emerald green velvet dress. His touch was cold and sent a shiver up their spine. He slid his hand a little higher, playing the dirty schoolyard version of the game that still occupied Jaheira and Halsin, trying to make Rosalind break. They were completely fine at maintaining their cool until Astarion dug his fingernails into the thick flesh of their thigh. They shot him a dirty look, one that he responded to with a devilish grin that flashed just a hint of fang.

He abruptly pulled his hand away and stood, smoothing out the front of his tunic. It was clear that none of their companions paid any attention to either of them, but nevertheless he smoothly whispered in Rosalind’s ear, “Meet me in five,” his lips barely brushing the pointed tip as he moved away. He then grabbed a bottle of Baldur’s grape from the table and sauntered out of the grand hall. Rosalind squirmed in their chair again, uncomfortable for a completely new reason. They clamped their legs together tightly, trying to relieve a tiny bit of the pressure beginning to mount. They stared into space in the general direction of Elminster’s great-grandfather, counting the seconds as they ticked by.

When enough time had passed that Rosalind felt secure as to not rouse significant suspicion, they stood and quietly excused themself to no one in particular. They walked with lightly shaking legs towards where Astarion had disappeared. They exited the hall, scanning the lobby for any sign of him, when a Dragonborn that couldn’t have been more than sixteen waved them down. Slightly confused and more than a little impatient, they walked over to the teen who was all too happy to distract them from their mission. As they approached, however, Rosalind saw the telltale signs of being charmed in the boy’s eye. Astarion had become an absolute menace since learning a handful of bard spells.

“Excuse me, saer, but the dashing young man is waiting for you over there,” he gestured behind him into the room where everyone had stored their cloaks and wraps to protect them from the harsh winter wind outside. “I have very important business to take care of over there,” he added and pointed to the opposite side of the lobby. Then, without another word, the boy walked in the direction of his finger and didn’t stop until he was standing a few inches away from the far wall. Rosalind rolled their eyes and dipped into the room behind the boy’s now abandoned post.

Astarion was slouched against the wall with his collar undone and elbow resting on one bent knee. In that hand he held the bottle of wine, which sloshed a bit more than it had when he had first removed it from the table. He looked up at Rosalind with dark pupils blown wide from drunkenness and lust. They snatched the bottle from his hand and took a swig. The fine wine was smooth and rich, just the right balance of dry and sweet. Astarion held his hand out for the bottle back, but instead Rosalind grabbed it and pulled him to his feet. He swayed just a tiny bit and they could tell he was only a little tipsy; it took quite a bit for him to get sloppy drunk, and usually neither of them wanted to do anything when that happened, rare as it was.

Astarion smirked at Rosalind’s cheekiness and responded by pulling them into him, their belly squishing softly against his lean abs. He grasped at their lower back, fingers splaying into the mesh that covered their midriff. The two of them thumped softly against the wall of the small room, cutting between two fur stoles that tickled Rosalind’s bare arms. Astarion kissed them roughly, twisting one hand into their fuchsia locks, eliciting a small gasp. He used their momentary distraction to steal the bottle back and take a mouthful of the dark red liquid. It was already starting to stain his pretty mouth, and Rosalind ran a thumb over his lower lip. He dipped his chin and took their thumb into his mouth fully, sucking on it lasciviously. They moaned quietly at the sensation of his tongue working against the underside of their finger, his crimson eyes piercing theirs as he did so. They pressed their hip against his growing erection, earning a similar noise in turn.

Astarion pushed against Rosalind enough to escape from between them and the wall, and placed the bottle on the floor in the doorway. “No use in wasting perfectly good wine,” he said in a low tone, before slamming Rosalind back up against the wall, locking their wrists above their head. They whined and squirmed beneath him as he devoured their lips, the heady scent of his cologne making them dizzy. He took his other hand, the one not currently imprisoning their wrists so cruelly, and stroked the velvet sweetheart neckline of their dress, taking time to brush his thumb over where he knew their nipple was. Another embarassing sound escaped their lips and Astarion smiled against them wickedly.

“You make the most delicious noises,” he murmured into the kiss, “but we want to make sure we don’t alert the boy outside, he might eventually tire of staring at the wall.” He clearly had no intention of keeping them quiet, however, because he took that moment to slip a finger below their neckline, finding that sensitive tip hardening for him. Rosalind moaned in a higher pitch, their chest heaving as they sucked in a sharp breath. He took his hand trapping their wrists and clamped it over their mouth as he flicked their nipple with his forefinger. Their hips bucked against him, the moan coming out more muffled this time. He responded with an impish smile, clearly enjoying his torture of them.

He moved his lips to their ample breasts, kissing and licking along their cleavage. Their hands now free, they laced their fingers through his silvery curls, simultaneously trying to pull him away and push him into their tits more. He pulled down on the neckline of their dress, releasing the previously teased nipple, perky and eager for more. He slid it into his mouth, swiping his tongue back and forth over the tip. Rosalind melted into the wall and tore their eyes away from his ministrations. They dug their nails into his scalp, a simultaneous plea to stop and keep going. He pulled away from their nipple and brought his lips back up to their ear.

“I do so love hearing your stifled moans,” he breathes, “and I wonder what kind of sound you’ll make when I do this?” He uses his free hand to hike up the skirt of their dress just enough to slide a finger past their panties, pressing into their slick folds. Like a trained pet, Rosalind whimpered against Astarion’s left hand while grinding into his right.

“Gods, you’re wet,” Astarion said in a low groan, and Rosalind could feel his erection pressing against their thigh. Desperate to regain some control of the situation, they slid their hand from the back of his neck down to the growing bulge, relishing in the stuttering breath they elicited from him.

“Cheeky pup,” he hissed into their ear. He nipped the lobe lightly, sending a jolt of lightning through their entire body. “Wait ‘til I’m through with you, you’ll be begging for me to let you come.” He dropped to his knees, migrating his hands to clutching around Rosalind’s ass, and they let out a shaky breath. They knew they looked a mess, cheeks flushed from drink and lust, pink hair torn from its elegant updo and tumbling around their shoulders. They looked down at Astarion, astounded that he was able to appear as collected as he does, save a few beads of sweat beginning to form at his brow. They longed to make him look disheveled as they did.

He pulled them towards him and pressed filthy kisses to the black mesh at their midriff, receiving a strangled noise in return. While slathering their soft belly in kisses and tantalizingly gentle bites, his left hand resumed its station between their legs, pushing aside their now soaked underwear to stroke their labia. Rosalind groaned at the light touch, aching for something more substantial.

He trailed his lips down the velvet dress while continuing to tease their opening with his fingertips. They writhed in place, chasing an ounce of relief from his touch, but he seemed to anticipate every move they tried to make. He reached his target, grabbing their panties between his teeth and, looking up at them with a salacious grin, pulled the fabric down their legs. He nudged their left leg up, freeing the underwear to sit undignified on their right ankle, and rested their left knee onto his shoulder. He turned his face into their thigh, inhaling their scent deeply.

“Ah-Astarion,” they stuttered as his lips ghosted over the sensitive flesh of their inner thigh.

“Hm?” he sounded without looking at them, infuriatingly calm while they were being reduced to a puddle.

“Please,” they whined, sliding their fingers back into his windswept locks, but refraining from guiding his head anywhere specific.

“Please what?” he asked innocently, followed by gently scraping his fangs over their skin, and their moan in response was significantly less tempered. The knee that still supported their weight buckled slightly, but Astarion’s grip kept them upright. He flashed his blood-red eyes up to them and they panted, their hunger for his lips stealing their breath away.

“Bite me if it means you’ll stop being such a fucking tease,” they hissed through gritted teeth, tightening their grip in his hair in sexual frustration. He flashed a bright smile and sunk his fangs into their thigh while simultaneously dipping a finger inside them. Rosalind gasped, worried they might be torn apart by the contrasting sensations, being penetrated by him in more ways than one. They shuddered as their right leg almost fully gave out, leaving barely anything but the wall and Astarion’s shoulder to keep them from collapsing entirely. He sucked down swallows of their blood while working his fingers in and out of them, filling up both of them deliciously.

“Gods, Astarion, fuck,” Rosalind babbled through the overstimulation, the relief of his fingers interweaving with the satisfying ache of his teeth followed by the soothing sensation of his tongue along the wounds. They could feel him getting stronger as he fed on their blood, a rare pink tinge flushing his cheeks. He worked his fingers faster, building up their sounds of pleasure as he drank his fill.

Once he was satiated, he pulled back both his lips and fingers to gaze up at Rosalind, panting from the exertion. He looked a touch more unkept than before, their blood pooling on his lips and dripping down his chin lightly, hair only slightly out of place. Rosalind, on the other hand, was barely keeping themself together.

“Well, I think you’ve suffered enough, don’t you?” he hummed, looking up at their entirely bedraggled appearance. They didn’t even trust themself to speak, they just nodded as a whimper escaped their lips.

“That’s a good pet,” he breathed and dove in to lick a thick stripe up their labia, and Rosalind grasped for purchase on the nearby cloaks, a loud moan tearing itself from their throat. With their leg hanging off his shoulder, he had all the access he needed to properly eat them out. He alternated between dragging his tongue lazily along their folds and teasing flicks of their swollen clit with the tip.

“Astarion, gods, please don’t stop,” they panted, their orgasm slowly starting to build. They rolled their hips against his tongue, trying to refrain from fucking his face and failing miserably. He pushed in deeper with his tongue and their hands went into their own hair, twisting and writhing from the overwhelming feeling.

“Fuck, Astarion, I’m close, keep going,” they babbled, and he took the invitation to maintain a steadier speed as he lapped at their clit. Their moans grew louder and less restrained as they began to reach the crest.

The two of them were so lost in one another that they didn’t even realize when a hulking, muscled figure filled the doorway. Halsin, simply on his way to pick up his cloak, stood frozen in the liminal space, unsure what to do. Rosalind suddenly made eye contact with him and, before they realized what was happening, crashed over the edge with a cry. Astarion, still completely oblivious, continued to suck and kiss their pussy through their throbbing orgasm, cleaning up any last remnants of arousal.

Once Rosalind had resurfaced on the other side of their climax, feelings of horror and embarrassment started to creep in. They quickly pulled their leg off Astarion’s shoulder, hastily shoving a tit back in their dress and trying to smooth out their hair. In the same instant, Astarion whipped around to see their unexpected visitor as Halsin jumped like a startled deer, knocking over the bottle of wine in the process. The blood-red liquid pooled on the carpet as the three elves stared at each other in stunned silence.

Astarion recovered first and got to his feet, delicately wiping Rosalind from his lips. “If you wanted to join, Halsin, you needed only to say something,” he said cooly, but Rosalind could tell he was embarrassed. Halsin coughed, turned away, then turned back with a hazy look in his eyes.

“Well, if you’re looking for a third…”

[quietblueriver]

Please find below 4k of quickly written and mostly unedited pride fluff inspired by the revival news.

Happy Pride, and happy Warrior Nun, y'all. <3 <3

Ava’s first pride was with her mother. She remembers being outside, her mom’s laugh loud and generous, her joyous friends lifting Ava on their shoulders and spinning her around to take it all in, everything bathed in color. There was so much to see and hear, and she felt small but not scared surrounded by so many people, delighted when someone dancing in the parade wrapped a feather boa around her neck gently and with a wink. Her mom had taken her home before the parade was over, Ava fighting sleep and swaying against her side in the afternoon sun.

She’d felt no shame as she got older and realized that she found a wide spectrum of people and genders to be attractive. She hadn’t been raised to believe in God and her life at St. Michael’s definitely didn’t change her mind. She’d figured out real fucking quick that the nuns at St. Michael’s were full of shit. There was absolutely no way Sister Frances, fountain of hate, knew what she was talking about when it came to literally anything beyond being a fucking bitch. She sure as shit didn’t know anything about love. Ava was more likely to listen to an avocado’s directions about how to live her best life. Anyway. The nuns spouted bullshit but she knew better. She had been taught better. Like her mom’s laugh and the soft fur of her favorite tabby under her fingers, Ava clung to the memory of her mother surrounded by men and women and people dressed in bright colors and dancing, together and happy and beautifully themselves.

--

“Bea?”

She’s standing in front of her dresser, staring into the open drawer where she keeps her t-shirts, all neatly folded and organized vertically so that she can see each one. It’s exactly where she was when Ava left her two minutes ago, pretending she wanted a glass of water to give Bea a minute that she would deny she needed if Ava actually asked.

“Hmm?” Her eyes remain focused on the drawer, one hand fiddling absently with the thin gold chain around her neck, taking up residence where her cross used to be. She’s in one of her favorite sports bras, tight enough to have a compressive effect, and black boxer briefs, her hair still wet from the shower and in a loose braid to keep it out of her way. It’s something precious for Ava to see her this disarmed, this at home, something she thought about when she was trapped and waiting, waiting, waiting until she could come back to this world, to a real life, to Bea, in whatever capacity she would have her. The fact that Bea wants her like this, in all the ways Ava had ever hoped and in the home they’re building together, is sometimes enough to leave her breathless.

She steps into the room but leaves several feet of space between them. It’s a dance, figuring out how to love Bea best, and Ava still sometimes misses a step. As always, her instinct is to wrap herself around Bea like a koala, but she knows that Bea has to be the one to make the move right now. She would welcome Ava; she always does, but it’s different when she thinks Ava wants something. Because she was raised by shitheads, her default, when Ava wraps her up in moments like this, is to feel it like a threat: Make the right choice because this is what you have, yes, but this is also what you can lose. She had nearly had a panic attack even admitting this to Ava, stilted and red-faced and ashamed one night after a therapy session. “It’s not about you, I swear. I know you love me. I’m just not used to love like yours.” There is no part of Ava that doesn’t want to throw down with Bea’s parents.

She focuses, instead, on what she can do. It is Ava’s privilege to learn how to love Bea in the ways that let her feel it most, and right now that means standing close but not too close, a physical signal that she’s there if Bea wants her but that she has no expectations.

“You sure you want to go? It’s really, really okay if you don’t. We could just go to Rosa’s later, if something smaller would be better. Or we can stay home! No pressure, is what I mean.”

Beatrice looks at her then, eyes soft and with a small but genuine smile. The halo gives a little hum with Ava’s exhale. They’re in agreement about Bea, as always: beautiful.

“I want to go.” She turns her body to face Ava, one hand still on her chain. “I want to go with you.” Ava grins big, lets every fucking bit of affection show on her face, in her body, in the halo’s light, kept dim enough not to be outrageous in the space of their bedroom but still obvious, and Bea’s own smile grows just a little, her cheeks coloring. It’s strange in the very best way to see her be bashful. She looks down at her body and adopts the contemplative face that Ava fell in love with, all strong, sharp, serious lines and pursed lips. “I just don’t know what to wear. Is that,” she turns back to the drawer and shakes her head, “Is that silly? I feel…I feel a bit silly.”

Ava steps closer then, an offer of help, and stops just behind Beatrice at the dresser. The way she immediately leans back into Ava’s space, drops the chain to pull one of Ava’s arms around her almost absently, lets Ava know she made the right decision. Ava presses onto her toes and hooks her chin over Bea’s shoulder so that she can look into the drawer. Not that she doesn’t already know exactly what’s in there—she wears Bea’s clothes as often as her own.

“It’s not silly at all. Do you want…how, um, how on theme do you want to be?” There is nothing in Bea’s drawer that Ava would describe as loud or showy—she tends toward muted colors and conservative cuts even now that her vows are barely visible in the rearview. Still, there are options.

“I don’t think I have anything particularly appropriate? I suppose…” she reaches for a lavender t-shirt, the same one Ava had been eyeing for her, thick cotton with a front pocket and a slightly faded neckline. Ava wraps her other arm around Bea’s waist and squeezes, presses a kiss to her cheek before dropping back down. “That’s perfect, baby.”

“Really?” It’s tentative in a way that Bea rarely is, and Ava’s heart aches.

“Yes, absolutely.” She thumbs at the waistband of Bea’s underwear and bites her lip before adding, “I mean, you’re rocking this look but I figured you didn’t want to wear it out.” She feels Bea’s gentle laughter. Mission accomplished.

“No, I’m not quite there yet. Maybe next year.” She’s feeling good enough to banter, even if only a little, which loosens something in Ava’s chest. A deep breath and exhale and then she feels more than sees the shift in Bea’s demeanor, her shoulders squaring up and feet spreading evenly. There is no leather tunic, no bo, no stash of knives (well, there’s always at least one, in a boot or a waistband or a subtle sheath under her shirt and across her back but like, of course). This is a different kind of armor—the control in her body, the appearance of confidence and competence. There’s more than a little fake it til you make it happening right now, but that’s fucking great, and nobody but Ava is going to know anyway. All they’re going to see is a very hot, very self-assured human, and Ava’s going to enjoy watching Bea get flustered by the women who will absolutely be looking in a totally unsubtle way.

She presses a last kiss to Bea’s shoulder blade and then pulls away, stepping over to their closet and pulling out a pair of black jeans that are a go-to for Bea, comfortable and neat and tapered but not too tight. She lays them carefully on the bed and then steps back toward the door as Bea slips into the clothes.

She looks incredibly handsome, as always, and Ava tells her so, whispering into her ear and then kissing her soundly. Impressively, she only lets her hands wander a teeny tiny amount. Bea looks down at herself and then says, “It’s not very colorful.”

Ava bounces on her toes and claps her hands once, brings them to together to a point under her chin. “Well! I have some ideas, if you want to add a little color.” She pulls Bea into the living room and presses gently on her shoulders, sitting her on the sofa and then walking to pull a tote from one of the hooks by the door. She’d been out this morning to get them coffee and also grabbed some supplies.

“Okay, so.” She rummages through and sits her bounty one by one on the coffee table. “We have face paint, nail polish, markers, body glitter. Oh! And!” She drops the bag and bounds into their bedroom, returning with a small box that she’d nearly forgotten about. “I got you these. Pinkwashing is bullshit but like all of the proceeds go to a shelter for queer youth and also it’s Pride and these are great and you’ll look amazing in them.” She hands Bea the box and then adds hastily, “If you want to wear them! No pressure. I will obviously also look amazing in them.”

She doesn’t say the rest—that she knew Bea wouldn’t have the same kind of options as Ava, whose closet is as full of color and energy as she is. Today, she landed on high rise denim shorts and a blue cropped tank with a short-sleeve button-down, pink and purple gradient, knotted overtop. There is a streak of pink at the front of her hair, and she’d traded shoes with Rosa, who lives two doors down, for the weekend, so she’s got one pink high top and one purple. She’s a walking bi flag and she feels great about it.

Beatrice is smiling down at the box, and she pulls out the rainbow sunglasses with a grin, situating them on her face and yes, she looks very, very good and also relaxed, which is the point. Ava has no real option but to kiss her, sliding into her lap and pushing the glasses to rest in her hair.

“You’re so hot.”

She blushes, as always, and rolls her eyes a little, but she doesn’t protest, is learning through therapy and a lot of positive reinforcement from Ava to let the compliments stand even if she doesn’t quite believe them. “I love you, too.” Ava grins and kisses her nose, doesn’t move from her lap but angles her torso slightly back toward the table.

“Now. Want me to do a lesbian pride flag on your cheek? Or your arm? Or some glitter? It rolls on.” She eyes the clock. They’re going to find a spot near the end of the route, closer to their apartment, so there’s not a rush. “We still have time for nail polish, even, if you want.”

Bea situates her hands on Ava’s hips, which is excellent, and looks at the pile on the table. “Maybe a flag on my cheek?” Ava nods decisively and reaches to pick up the face paint markers. “Yes, ma’am.” She pulls the top from the orange and moves to get the best angle.

--

Beatrice grew up in London, so she’d seen Pride, but only from a distance. “It was the first time I heard my father use a slur,” she told Ava the afternoon that they’d seen the pride flag go up in their favorite coffee shop, head in her lap on their sofa, Ava’s fingers carding through her hair. “It was the summer after Year Two, I think. We hadn’t started summering at the house in France yet.” Ava had not, for once, teased her for using the word summer as a verb. “We were out for…something. I don’t remember, but there were people walking to the parade and we could hear the music. They looked so happy, and I couldn’t stop watching them, even though I knew I shouldn’t let my father see me. When he noticed me staring, he grabbed my arm so hard it bruised.” Ava’s fingers stopped only briefly, reaching down to rub Beatrice’s bicep, soothing a phantom pain. Beatrice took her hand and kissed her palm, soft, before putting it back in her hair. Taking the request for what it was, Ava resumed her previous motion.

“He said…he said terrible things for the rest of the walk back to the car, loud enough that I knew some of the people must have heard. I started crying, and it made him mad at me. He never…I didn’t cry often, as a child. I don’t think he knew what to do with me most of the time, but he certainly didn’t know what to do with tears. It took me a long time to stop. I didn’t know exactly why, then, but I already felt wrong.”

Ava held her tongue, scratched at Bea’s scalp in a way that sometimes made her arch her back in a distinctly cat-like movement, graceful and pleased. Beatrice hummed and after a few moments, she titled her head back and reached up to skim her fingers along Ava’s jaw.

“I’d like to go, I think. To Pride. I’d like to go with you.” Bea’s skin was warm under her lips as Ava moved from her forehead to her nose to her chin. “I’d love that, baby.”

-- They’re able to walk, which is nice because it’s beautiful out today and because it gives Bea a way to get rid of some nervous energy. She’d already been on a run that morning, but she’s always a little on edge, Ava’s sister warrior, and today is going to be amazing, Ava knows it, but it’s also going to be a lot.

Fifteen minutes into the walk, Beatrice squeezes Ava’s hand so hard she thinks maybe she’s missed some kind of danger or protestor or something. When she follows Bea’s gaze, though, she squeezes back just as tightly. A loud, brightly colored group has emerged from the subway and congregated around someone looking at their phone. While the younger members of the group wear bright colors��bow ties and skirts and dyed hair scattered throughout—the adults wear matching t-shirts, white with gigantic rainbow hearts and bold black letters:

Proud of My Queer Child

Proud of My Queer Grandchild

A little distance from the malformed semi-circle, an elderly man entertains a very excited kiddo who can’t be more than 8, blue tutu flying as they spin and spin. The man, Papa written in pink, white, and blue paint on his arm, is in a variation of the same shirt: Proud of my Trans Grandchild.

As Ava and Beatrice approach the little one stops twirling and says, exuberant and maybe a little dizzy, based on their wobbly stance, “Happy Pride!”

“Happy Pride!” Ava’s response is enthusiastic but hasty. She’s ready to move quickly, give Bea a pass on interaction, but Bea stops and smiles at them, so handsome in the sunlight, a tiny dash of sunscreen that Ava hadn’t noticed as they left the house covering some of the freckles on the right side of her nose. “Happy Pride,” she says, voice gentle as it always is with children.

“I like your glasses! But you’ve got, uh,” little fingers swipe to indicate the spot where the sunscreen is. Bea says, polite as ever, “Thank you. I have been admiring your tutu.” She turns to Ava, who lifts her fingers and blends. Beatrice cups her jaw. “Thank you, love.” Familiar and easy and unashamed.

“Dad! Micah! You ready?” A conclusion has apparently been reached by those congregated around the phone. Micah waves and then skips toward the woman who called for them, grandfather shepherding closely.

--

The motorcycles are loud enough that Ava feels them in her chest, and she can’t help but laugh.

Bea is transfixed, eyes glued to the group of women in front of them—colorful flags and bandanas, leather and love and butch women revving engines. The woman closest to them, in a leather vest with a Dykes on Bikes patch prominently displayed, throws her head back and laughs at something her partner, clutching her from behind, whispers into her ear.

“Dyke,” Bea whispered into the dark of their bedroom at Cat’s Cradle a few weeks after Ava’s return. They were learning each other in new ways in a new world, this life and the next all in one, and Bea was trusting Ava with another piece of herself. She explained with a pained voice and silent tears the way her father had nearly spat at her when her parents found her kissing another girl, innocent and exploring, in the kitchen. “My mother slapped me and he called me a dyke. They sent me to Switzerland the next day.”

Now, Bea wraps an arm around Ava’s waist and pulls her closer with a confidence that makes Ava and the halo want to burst. Ava wraps her own arms around Bea, squeezing, and leans up to kiss her cheek. Strong fingers catch her chin as she turns away and then Bea’s lips are on hers, sure and solid and tasting of coconut sunscreen chapstick. Ava smiles into it and leans her forehead against Bea’s as they break apart, happy and so fucking proud.

The crowd roars when the bikes start moving, the parade on its way again, and Ava joins them, yelling and unlocking her hands from Bea’s waist so that she can wave. Beatrice is quiet, but she’s smiling, really smiling, and she startles a laugh when a dyke revs at an impressively loud and coordinated wolf-whistle from a nearby section of the crowd.

--

They’ve been here for almost two hours—sound systems blasting Kylie and Beyonce and Janelle Monae, queer people dancing in leather and coordinated outfits and tiny, tiny swimsuits. More than one marcher has winked at one or the other of them, Ava delighted and Bea, as predicted, flustered and precious.

There are corporate-sponsored floats fucking everywhere and it’s very, very white, and Ava knows that Beatrice, who is as thoughtful in her queerness as she is in everything, will want to talk about it later. (She bravely asked Rosa and Cleo, her partner, older London natives who have been active in the queer scene since before she and Bea were born, about how to get more involved in community. And a growing stack of queer reading material—poetry and fiction and theory and memoir— sits in a neat stack on her bedside table and on two designated shelves in their living room. Ava is partial to fiction and the queer internet, but she’s happy to listen to anything Bea wants to read her, steady heartbeat in one ear and measured voice in the other.) For the moment, though, she watches and watches and watches as it all passes by.

At one point, a drag troupe dressed in habits with incredible makeup traipses by as the Sister Act soundtrack plays. Ava’s nervous for a minute, but Bea only bites her lip, expression amused rather than offended. One of the queens opens a fan with a flourish, and it’s covered in a shockingly detailed copy of The Last Supper, the disciples all in drag. A snort, ungraceful and unguarded, and then Bea is laughing so hard she’s shaking. Ava can’t look away.

By the time they enter hour three, they’re both flagging a little, and Ava wants to go home for a bit and nap because she absolutely wants to take Bea dancing tonight, so she tugs at Bea’s bicep and says loudly enough to be heard over the music (an Elton John remix?), “I’m happy to stay as long as you want, but I’m also happy to go home. I will need a nap before we go out tonight.” She does not phrase it as a question and she can’t see Bea’s eyes but she knows that they’re rolling fondly as Bea’s lips purse in amusement. “Oh, are you going out tonight?”

Ava pouts shamelessly because she knows what she wants and she knows how to get it. “We are going to a drag show and then dancing.” It’s an easier ask than Pride. They’ve done it before, even within the last month. The clubs are dark and anonymous and Bea genuinely loves dancing, and dancing with Ava especially.

Ava notices the banner of the next group before Bea can respond and nudges her quickly. “Bea. Look.” She does, immediate and reflexive, and then she keeps looking.

Christians at Pride

The groups is big, and there are colorful banners everywhere, some professionally printed and some very obviously handmade:

You are Made in God’s Image

You are loved.

Oh Happy Gay!

Thank God for Queer People

There are denominational shirts, a solid Catholic coalition packed into the middle, and at the end, a group of people whose shirts say simply: I’m Sorry. Ava has kept a close eye on Bea because, y’know, trauma, but it’s not until the end, until the I’m Sorry, that she reacts noticeably, sucking in a breath and curling one of her hands into a fist. Ava steps behind her, places a hand at the small of her back in question, and Bea reaches back for her arms.

They stand like that, Ava wrapped around her very favorite person, and watch a few more floats pass by, bass thumping up through their feet and confetti falling over them. Across the street, someone lifts a small child in a rainbow bucket hat onto their shoulders, and they sit waving and clapping happily at the queer cyclist club. The couple who have been camped next to them—Matt and Andy, about their age and into gardening and incredibly fucking cute in their tiny matching rainbow shorts and mesh tops—dips, giving them quick hugs. As they turn to leave, Andy says to Beatrice, teasing and without waiting for an answer, “See you tonight, yeah?” Ava, having resumed her previous position already, feels Bea’s laughter in her own chest.

Eventually, Beatrice turns into her and says, acting put upon but pressing even closer to Ava to be sure she knows it’s only an act, “Let’s go home and nap before we go out.”

Ava grins, victorious.

--

Look, Ava loves being queer. She doesn’t believe in blessings but she sure as shit believes it’s a gift to be bisexual, and she feels that deeply as she watches Bea at the bar in her slightly tighter black jeans and a fitted white tee. Her hair is down, over one shoulder, and she’s leaned forward to catch the bartender’s attention and Ava can’t believe she gets to go home with her.

She’s coming back from the bathroom, but she stops as someone slides into Bea’s space, beautifully tattooed arm reaching over to touch Bea’s elbow like it’s nothing. They’re gorgeous, newly touched-up undercut and jeans that do great things for their ass and Ava smiles as they shoot their shot.

The more they do it, the more she loves bringing Bea into queer spaces like this, because it’s where she gets the attention she quite frankly deserves and because it’s very fun to watch her navigate these interactions. Only the very smallest part of Ava wants to halo-blast this human across the room and even that is only on principle—she has absolutely nothing to worry about. More than anything, she’s happy that her partner gets some outside reinforcement for what Ava tells her all the fucking time: she’s hot.

Bea backs away immediately, says something that Ava is sure is polite but absolutely clear, and then she’s alone again. Ava makes her way over, sliding and arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to her cheek and Beatrice smiles at her and hands her a shot glass.

“Lemon drop?”

The club is full of people celebrating, evidence of the parade everywhere: sunburns and smeared paint and so much glitter. Her own arms are covered in it now, but she doesn’t mind. Ava always loves going dancing with Bea but she loves it especially tonight. They’re warm and happy and just a little bit drunk, swaying comfortably in the press of the revelry.

The music changes, an eruption as the Beyonce remix sounds through the speakers, and Bea shifts somehow closer to her, hands confidently blazing a path to the exposed skin of Ava’s waist. Ava lets her own hands roam, landing on Bea’s shoulder blades, fingers digging in as Bea breathes out against her ear, “Come home with me?”

Ava kisses her, a little filthy, and Beatrice pulls her closer. She draws back with a bite to Bea’s bottom lip and kisses a path up her jaw, lets her tongue graze skin as she answers Bea’s question the way she always does, the way she always will: “Yes.” They press out of the crowd, and Beatrice apologizes as she bumps into a crew coming into the club. “No worries, baby!” The queen is beautiful, makeup fucking impeccable, and she blows a kiss as she heads toward the bar. “Happy Pride!”

[marvelobsessed134]

Sparks Fly part one

Pairings: Tommy Lee x Fem!Country singer!reader

Warnings: age gap

Series masterlist

The MTV Video Music Awards. Thats where Tommy first saw you. You were up onstage accepting an award for best country song. Your song ‘Back To December’ won, and you had the biggest and prettiest smile on your face.

You were in a beautiful purple gown, your hair pinned up with flowers delicately placed in the braid that wrapped around your head. You didn’t have the typical big hair that was all the rage in the 80s. You were simply just yourself.

Tommy admired that, and he couldn’t help but keep staring at you the whole night. He hadn’t heard of you before since he’s not a country fan. But he’s so glad you won that award because now he was aware of your existence.

You seemed so kind and gentle. Beautifully feminine. Submissive. The kind of woman he’s always wanted. It was clear to him he needed to talk to you, but unfortunately he never got the chance.

The drummer was disappointed however, that all went away when he found out you were touring in LA. And so, he bought a ticket.

A country music concert was not somewhere Tommy Lee thought he’d be, but there he was standing in the VIP section waiting amongst other screaming fans. Some recognized him but kept their distance. They were clearly there to see one person and one person only. You.

And then, there you were rising out from underneath the stage on a platform. Your guitar in your hands as you began to play the first song.

He was really impressed by your vocal range and how you skillfully played the guitar. You were in a purple halter dress this time with your hair up in a ponytail. Looking absolutely beautiful.

The crowd sang along with you as you sang and danced to your songs. Sometimes you’d alternate between the piano and guitar. When one of your songs came on, one about heartbreak, he couldn’t help but feel anger towards whoever dared hurt you.

Then, you pulled out an electric guitar and started playing ‘better than revenge’ which you rocked. It was more Tommy’s style of music, and he really enjoyed it.

After the show was over you walked back stage with a towel around your neck to your dressing room. You put on a simple pink dress before grabbing your stuff and getting ready to go meet your driver.

Your assistant, Carol, stopped you however. “Miss Y/n, there’s someone who’d like to meet you.” You never turn down meeting fans so you allowed Carol to lead the way.

However who stood there wasn’t a fan, and if he was it’d be a shock. It was Tommy Lee. And well to say you’re a Mötley fan is an understatement. You are absolutely obsessed! And have been crushing on Tommy for awhile.

“Um, hi.” You said. Now you sounded like a fan. Which you are but to act like a fan at your own concert?

The brunette gave a small smile, “Hey. I uh saw the show it was really good.”

“Oh! You liked it?”

“Yeah.”

After a moment of silence you spoke up, “No offense but this doesn’t seem like the kind of show you’d go to. Did a girlfriend drag you here?”

“No, I came on my own accord actually. I wanted to meet you. I saw you at the VMAs and thought you were the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and I didn’t get a chance to talk to you that night so now I’m here.” You couldn’t believe his words.

“Wow- um can I just say I’ve kind of had a crush on you for awhile?”

“Most girls do. Shit. That sounded awful.” He chuckled nervously.

“No, it’s fine I understand. So do you want an autograph?” You teased.

“Just your number would be fine.” Jesus he’s smooth.

“Yes! I mean, yeah sure whatever.” You said before grabbing a headshot and writing your number on it. You handed it to him.

“Thanks, I’ll call you sometime this week?”

“Sure.” And after the two of you said goodbye you couldn’t help but blush all the way home.