#adventures in pov and tense

[ala-baguette]

hello!! just sending an ask to say I've read Knowing Where to Look in one sitting because it was so addictive! Thank you for writing it!! Also, if you still remember, in a previous ask you mentioned physical books you've added to your shelf. I'd love to know some of those favourites!! Hope you are doing well :)

Wait... like... someone wants to hear me rattle on about books???

I had a very fun reading adventure in 2022. Those familiar with my writing might notice that everything I write is 3rd person past tense. This is the only POV/tense that comes naturally to me and the only one I have traditionally enjoyed reading or writing. I recently found myself with an idea for a novel that I do think, however, would benefit from exploring a different perspective or tense. To do so, would require me to broaden my horizons, get past my own prejudices and find a way to get more comfortable with an entirely different style of writing. So in 2022, I resolved to read only novels in either first person POV, present tense or (shudder) both. And low and behold, I found I loved every second of the adventure!

My 2022 Reading List Recap:

The Starless Sea, by Erin Morgenstern: I see this story got some very mixed reviews which doesn't surprise me in the least. I would not recommend this book to everyone. But I will happily say that I loved it. This is not a book for people who just want a linear forward-moving plot that gets to the point. This is a book for people who are interested in the process of story-telling, who are interested in seeing how characters develop, who are interested in puzzling how the various story lines might be interconnected and are okay with the idea that they will not immediately "get" it. I loved the stories within stories, and I enjoyed slowly making connections between these stories and working out where they all fit together. The protagonist felt real, and the romance was subtle and understated, mimicking real life which is so my style. His sexuality did not define his character and lacked the usual cliches of gay characters. I loved the magical realism and beautiful imagery. Repeatedly while reading, I found myself saying, "I love words." I love that humans can create such amazing images in my mind using words and how even the way the words themselves sound so lovely. If you do not "love words" like I do, you will probably not love this book. At times, the flowery prose borders on pretentious, but I was totally there for it. This story was told in third person present tense. Normally, I find myself very distracted by present tense and it pulls me out of the story. In this case, however, it felt very immersive and added to the dream-like quality of the writing. I don't think the story would have hit the same way in past tense, so i can absolutely accept this choice.

Project Hail Mary, by Andy Weir: I always look forward to a new book from Andy Weir. First off, the dude got his start writing fan fiction. Listening to him talk about fan fiction in an interview years ago was one of the things that inspired me to be more open about my fic writing to the people in my life. It's inspiring to know see that someone really did become a successful author from what they learned while writing fic. The other reason I love Andy Weir is that he is one of the few authors my partner and I can read together. My partner (an engineer) tends to favor really dry nonfiction so he can "learn" while reading, and it is just so not my cup of tea. I am a fiction lover, all the way. I get enough real world in the real world, thanks. I read to be transported somewhere else and to get to turn my brain away from real world problems. What's great about Weir is that he's a total nerd. He clearly does an insane amount of research into the technology he includes in his stories. So my husband will read his books to puzzle over the feasibility of his spaceship constructions while I get to enjoy a fun story about a man stranded in space as he struggles to save the world. Win-win. Project Hail Mary features a man who is suffering from amnesia (don't worry, its not soap-opera-cheesy, it actually makes some logical sense.) The narrative flashes between his present struggles and flashbacks as he slowly works out how he got where he is. It's almost like reading a novel and its sequel all mixed up into one. For the two different timelines, one is written in present tense, the other in past. Weir uses the tense to clue you in on which timeline you are currently reading and it is very cleverly done. The tense work in this book was really eye-opening for me-- it really helped me to see how tense can be a devise in good story telling.

The Ocean at the End of the Lane, by Neil Gaiman: I'm still reeling from this book a bit. The narrator is a seven year old child, which, coupled with a fantastical storyline featuring monsters and magic, in some ways makes the story feel like a children's book. But it is most definitely written for adults. What I loved about this story is it is a wonderful representation of the unreliable narrator. As I read, I was constantly questioning whether the events were 'really happening' or if this was just how a seven-year-old boy would rationalize his trauma. Is his nanny really a monster or is this just easier for him to process than the idea that his father is having an affair? I am so impressed with the way Gaiman remembers how a child thinks and acts. This one is written in first person past. I'm trying to remember other Gaiman novels I've read, and if memory serves, I feel like he usually favors third person. I do feel like the choice to write this one in first person was very intentional. Partly, I think this was a very personal choice as I do believe large bits of this story were inspired by his own childhood. But I also think it lends itself well to encourage the reader to think about their own past and remember what it felt like to be a child. The tense really did help you to feel like you were quietly sitting in a place filed with memories thinking back to your youth. While reading these last two, I spent a lot of time considering why I enjoyed the first person POV in these stories and tended to dislike it in my own writing. I think a big part of my dislike of first person is that it is so pervasive in teen novels. Absolutely nothing against teen novels, because I love them and I don't think I will ever outgrow them. But because of this, when I see first person, I tend equate this to "childish". So, fueled by a thirst for understanding (and nostalgia) I went on another fun mission to reread some of the first person books I loved as a teen to see what the difference was. I think I've come to the conclusion that the POV in these cases is less of a thoughtful choice and more of a way to conform to the norms of the genre and signify that the story is meant for young readers. I suppose teens want to feel understood and relatable. I went to my bookshelf and just started plucking books off that I recalled being in first person. The conclusion I came to while rereading them as an adult was that I could take or leave the tense. Which I suppose is the difference for me... I personally prefer things in third person past unless I see the reason for something else. I won't go into as much detail on these, but here are the first person teen/ YA novels I read this year in case you're craving a stroll down memory lane. These books clearly all stood the test of time for me, given that some fifteen to twenty years later, they're all still on my bookshelf.

The Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins

The Daughter of the Forest, by Juliet Marellier

The Beekeeper's Apprentice, by Laurie R King

Ella Enchanted, by Gail Carson Levine

The Tiger's Curse, by Coleen Houck

Across the Nightingale Floor, by Lian Hearn

All in all, I had a very successful experiment and I find myself much more open-minded about first person POV and slightly more open-minded about present tense. But I will say, that once 2022 was over, I was very quick to kick this to the curb and go back to my happy place with third-person past. Oh... and... confession... I did cheat a little. Spurred by a combination of the nostalgia of rereading things from my youth and from watching the HBO adaptation of His Dark Materials, by Philip Pullman, I did reread this series in 2022. All I can say, is man, it really holds up. Still among my favorite fantasy series.

#adventures in pov and tense #present tense #first person pov #book review #2022 reading recap #the starless sea #project hail mary #the ocean at the end of the lane

[prosebushpatch]

I have never had such a conundrum in choosing present tense vs past tense but this story is killing me

#rose and rambles #prosie's writing adventures #when there's a wip there's a way #DIDN'T THINK YOU'D SEE THAT TAG AGAIN DID YA?!?! >:Dc #just kidding im hardcore struggling with this story but I keep chipping away at it #and i just read a book that is like.... same basic premise and now im liKE I MUST WRITE MY OWN BLORBOS GOING THRU IT #okay but real talk i did call a plot twist because it's the same as the one i was planning so now im having a mini crisis #but whatever #anyway im struggling with how to approach tenses. Because on one hand..... i think i want to have more present tense in this story #but when trying to do the whole thing in present tense it just feels off. #im thinking i could do something like in East by Edith Pattou #where the tenses change based on who's narrating BUT i don't have multiple povs BUT i do have memories.... #and im thinking.... maybe..... the memories can be present tense #which could be a cool spin because the memories in this story hold weight #their endurance is what drives the plot and i think having memories in present tense and everything else in the past could be intriguing #alright thank you to everyone who just became my rubber duckie I salute you o7 #do not ask how many times i have edited the tenses for the multiple beginnings of this story #(´。＿。｀)

[cassieswindon]

Review #337

“Kiss of the Selkie” by Tessonja Odette earned a 4.9/5 stars for me. It reminded me of “Serpent and Dove” by Shelby Mahurin crossed with “The Selection” by Kiera Cass. The .1 point I took off was once in a while it felt too much like The Bachelor show. But otherwise this book was perfection. I wasn’t expecting the slight steamy scene so this is more of a new adult crossover than pure young adult,…

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#adventure #enemies to lovers #fantasy #fantasy romance #first person #five stars #four stars #new adult #one POV #present tense #retelling #romance #romantasy #series #steamy #young adult

[writingwithfolklore]

A Quick Guide on POVs and Tenses

First person

First person perspective uses I/my and typically also accompanies present tense:

"I walk over to see what’s happening"

However, it can be used with any tense. It is the closest you can get to the character—it tends to have unfiltered access to their thoughts, feelings, ideas, memories, etc. and is the most intimate. It goes great for stories that want to stay ‘in the moment’ and rely on lots of internal dialogue.

2. Second person

Probably the least common—I’ve only ever seen it in fanfic and maybe a choose-your-own-adventure novel or two. This perspective uses you/your, and also tends to go with present tense.

                “You walk over to the stall and survey the goods.”

It’s a really unique way of telling a story that brings the reader the closest to the action—however, it doesn’t have a lot of room for character development as it relies on fitting anyone who is reading it, leaving the POV ‘character’ a shell to be filled by the reader rather than its own character.

3. Third person omniscient

Third person perspectives are outside of the character. Typically they are joined with past-tense. They use pronouns he/she/they/his/hers/theirs, etc.

'Omniscient' means this narrator has full access to the knowledge of the narrative, as well as all the characters in it. It is a bit of an uncommon perspective, as it means the narrator can and will easily “head-hop” which can be a difficult technique to do well.

                “He inhaled, staring icy daggers at Kate across from him. She knew instantly she had said the wrong thing, but had no idea how to take it back.”

                (Notice how we’re both in the male character’s head, as well as Kate’s.)

                This perspective keeps the readers at a distance, but allows them access to every character in the story. Beware, it can be difficult to build tension or keep secrets when using this perspective!

4. Third person limited/subjective

This perspective is probably the most common and my personal favourite. It has the same rules for third person, but instead of the narrator having full access to all the information, they only have access to the information the character they are following knows, or the thoughts/feelings they are having.

                “He inhaled, staring icy daggers at Kate across from him. She had said the wrong thing, and now just looked back at him with big eyes, her mouth agape as she hesitated on what to say next.”

                (Notice how in this example, Kate’s thoughts are only guessed at from our character’s POV. He doesn’t actually know what’s going on in her head, so neither does our narrator)

                Third person limited is probably the most popular because it is really effective at being a very invisible way of telling story. As well, it’s great for building tension, keeping secrets, and can explore unique character perspective and miscommunication.

Tenses:

Present tense

Things are happening right now.

“I begin my walk to the store.”

“He says as he steps through the gate.”

“You follow a long path through the trees.”

2. Past tense

Things already happened.

“I began my walk to the store.”

“He said as he stepped through the gate.”

“You followed a long path through the trees.”

3. Future tense

Things will happen—things to come.

“I would begin my walk to the store.”

“He will say, stepping through the gate.”

“You will follow a long path through the trees.”

#writing #writers #writing tips #writing advice #writing inspiration #creative writing #writing community #books #film #filmmaking #screenwriting #novel writing #fanfiction #writeblr #povs and tenses #guide #character perspective

[asimpwithfreetime]

Mr. Steal your girl (Tsu’tey x fem!reader / Jake Sully x Neytiri)

Summary: Tsu’tey tries to make Jake mad by dating his mate (He doesn’t know that you are not Jake’s human mate but his sister)

This fic is way looooonger than I expected.

Kind of a fluffy one-shot

Warnings: none I could think of.

Let’s pretend that Tsu’tey didn’t die, okay?

Also, I wrote this at 6 am in the morning and I have to wake up at seven, this might be the longest sleep deprived rant I’ve done.

English is not my first language

[ Reader’s POV ]

Jake has been acting strange since he became an avatar user, he barely sleeps o eats. He is always with Dr. Grace talking about Na’vis and their culture. I’ve also heard him talk about a woman, Neytiri I think.

Sometimes I wish I could go have adventures with him, running around Pandora freely. Not being small enough to be eaten by almost EVERYTHING.

Once the war with the sky people, no longer our workmates, started, I chose to fight on the side of the Na’vis, even though, none of them knew me.

I got injured during the battle. My brother, in his avatar form, picked me up, biding goodbye to his mate and bringing me back to our base to let Norm patch me up. I almost didn’t notice the freezing cold gaze that fell upon me.

[ Tsu’tey’s POV ]

So the demon with a fake body already had a mate with the sky people. She looks extremely weak. And he just PICKED HER UP in such a loving and caring way!? In front of Neytiri, as if nothing was wrong.

I walked towards Neytiri, but she didn’t seem upset. Okay, I’ll need to figure this out.

[ Few days after ]

[ Y/n’ POV ]

I was almost cured enough to go outside again. Even if I needed an oxygen mask to breath outside, it felt so freeing to see Pandora.

I didn’t want to wait any longer, so when Jake and Norm were distracted, I went out, into the forest. At first, I felt lost, but soon I found my way around it. Nature was beautiful here and we had stopped its destruction.

Stepping though the forest, I found a small lake and I walked up to it to see my reflexion. Standing closely to it I could see myself, but when I looked closely I could see the tree branches. In one of them there was a Na’vi, his bow was prepared to shoot me and he didn’t seem very happy.

[ Tsu’tey’s POV ]

I thought all humans were forced to leave the other day, except for some of Jakesully’s friends. I didn’t see any human women between them. I MUST kill her.

I followed her around the forest, I tried to be as silent as possible. She looked weak. Suddenly I remembered myself thinking the exact same thing. THIS IS JAKESULLY’S MATE. He didn’t show her to us because he wanted her all for himself while still having Neytiri. That bastard!

If I killed her, Jakesully would have to tell the truth right? Or maybe he would get so mad he would go back to his stupid dying planet.

I prepared my bow, pointing the arrow directly at her. She was so relaxed here, she wouldn’t expect this. But, she was looking into a lake, I couldn’t see it properly but I knew something was up when she tensed up. She turned around looking directly at me. For a split of a second I felt bad. I looked at her, her face soft and beautiful. Wait! Did I just though this human piece of meat was beautiful?

I tensed my bow a little bit more to scare her. She pulled her hands up in the air and said “Don’t kill me please!”. I thought about it. She was so weak she didn’t seem like a problem. But she was still Jakesully’s mate.

My mind raced, maybe Jake was being unfaithful to both of them and she wasn’t the one to fault. I brought my bow down and jumped from the tree. She was so small compared to me. From up close I could she her poor body shaking while she looked at me with a pleading look en her eyes.

When we were close enough I said, trying to sound strong even though my accent was not very good. “I am not going to kill you, sky demon”. She looked at me, still doubting it. I was about to tell her to go off to her base and never come back here, but an idea crossed my mind. What if I steal Jakesully’s mate?

Mine died, then her parents promised me Neytiri, I did like her, even though she wasn’t my real mate. Then Jakesully had to come and ruin it, once again sky people broke my chances of being happy. I almost died in the fight and lost all my privileges I would get for being the clan’s chief. I was degraded just for a sky demon in a Na’vi flesh disguise.

I waited for three and a half years, Jakesully did it in one week. I looked at her when my idea seemed perfect. If a human stole my Na’vi mate, a Na’vi will steal his human mate. Perfect.

Just as I was thinking that, a woodsprite fell onto her head. Was Eywa saying that I should do it? Was Ewya giving me back what’s fair?

I smiled mischievously. The woman looked terrified.

[ Y/n’s POV ]

He was smiling at me just right after he was aiming at me with a bow and arrow. “Are you okay?”

He seemed to snap out if his trance. He pulled his bow and arrow to his side, not shooting it. “Who are you? Why are you here? You weren’t with the scientists that would stay here” his words were accusing, but his accent was adorable, I couldn’t help but giggle to myself.

“I am Y/n. Y/n Sully” his face darkened at the saying of my surname.

[ Tsu’tey’s POV ]

I knew she was his mate. Humans give each other their supernames? Subnames? Sournames? Whatever!

I knew she had to be with him.

[ 3rd Person POV ]

For the next couple of days, Tsu’tey began the Na’vi courting with Y/n. Sometimes she blushed at his advances, something that made him really proud. But other times she was oblivious to them.

Once he was close enough he kissed her, copying how Jake kissed Neytiri. Just with a smaller figure. He had taken off her mask for a second, kissing her roughly. She was red as a tomato.

Tsu’tey should admit that he began doing that to annoy Jakesully and to steal his mate as a revenge. But now he did want to steal her.

[ A month later or so ]

Tsu’tey felt nervous, he didn’t know how the mating would go as they would need help of the Tsa’hìk. He went to look for Jake. “Jake I am going to mate your human mate” he said, in English.

“Tsu’tey, brother, I think you might have messed up the sentence” Jake thought that the Na’vi had said something wrong because of the language.

He repeated the same words, now in Na’vi and Jake was as dumbfounded as before.

“Y/n, I am talking about Y/n” Tsu’tey explained. Jake started laughing. “What’s so funny? I courted her better than you could every imagine” Tsu’tey felt that laugh as a taunt to his pride.

“Y/n isn’t my mate” Jake hollered between laughs. “But she has your sourname!” Tsu’tey said.

“She is my sister!” Jake began laughing again. Tsu’tey felt his face loosing color. He looked dumbfounded. He still loved Y/n but now he felt like a fool.

#avatar james cameron #avatar x reader #avatar #avatar tsu'tey #tsu’tey #tsu’tey x reader

[waataah]

welcome, to my first attempt at a fanfic on tumblr.

✧ sanji vinsmoke x fem!reader ✧

｡･ﾟﾟ･ (nsfw, fem!reader, 18+ only, mdni, 3rd pov) ･ﾟﾟ･｡

cw: nsfw, oral (receiving), praise, slight degradation, kinda submissive, lots of sexual tension, build-up, plot-heavy, power struggle, breast play, and unprotected sex.

summary: the straw hats stop at a mysterious never-before-seen island and their crazy captain recruits a woman who can finally rival the crew's flirtatious cook.

word count: ~about 2800

・❥・The Flirtacious Two

The captain of the straw hats Monkey D. Luffy had made an immediate order to stop the ship at the closest island. The closest island was not like any other they had seen, it resembled a forest but had many houses rooted into the trees.

Beautiful birds of many colors flew around in circles greeting the newcomers to their island. The island welcomed them and so did their people. This island was secluded and very small so it was avoided by most who went by, they did not oppose the pirates and showed them kindness and respect.

“They gave us enough supplies to last at least a few months stop eating them all!” Sanji yelled and smacked their captain on the head.

“At least show some respect…geez” Zoro had muttered under his breath.

Luffy rubbed his head and sprawled himself out on the ground at the new lump that had appeared poking out of his hat and ran from the crowd in desperation to get away from his fellow crew. The girls enjoyed themselves to new fruits, new fish, and especially new people. Being around the same boys on a crowded ship meant they NEEDED to converse with regular humans once in a while.

The crew had dispersed and spread amongst the island, till later that night they agreed to meet back on the ship for Sanji’s dinner. Sanji was making a special take on spaghetti and meatballs after all there was nothing wrong with cooking a basic pasta after all the new foods they had tried for the day. 

The pot was boiling with water as the noodles simmered in the heat, and the pan of meatballs were simmering creating a beautiful aroma that could make just about any mouth water.

“Well, well, well I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen spaghetti” An unknown voice to the cook quickly made him tense but hearing a woman's voice made him instantly feel like putty at the beautiful sound.

Once he gazed at the woman his eyes practically shot out of his head, a pure beauty just at the door of the ship's kitchen.

‘This island's weather sure is hot, but this woman is hotter’ his inner voice usually wasn't filtered but she had rendered him practically speechless with her beauty.

“Why hello there pretty boy~” she made her way over to the blonde and peeked over to glance at the food.

“Luffy said you were the chef, I’ve met the others… I believe he wants me to join this little crew you have” she said as she looked up at the taller man.

Sanji cleared his throat finally gaining the courage to speak to such a beauty, and she was flirting with him. That was new.

“What is a beautiful lady like you trying to join a group of pirates for?” he reached for his cigarettes in an attempt to occupy himself without having to look away from the woman before him. But patted around and failed to find them in his pockets.

The mysterious woman brought a hand up holding his cigarettes in hand, “Looking for this? I’m not too fond of smoking”.

‘Ah, she's a thief… a very… sexy one…’ he felt joy rising up in his chest.

She placed them on the counter and decided to answer his question.

“I want adventure, the men here are… getting dull, I figure there are many fish in the sea” She giggled a bit and made her way around the cook eyeing him up and down. Her reply was obviously a joke, but she wanted her reasons to remain her own.

This was the first time Sanji felt as if he was the prey, though he was visibly a bit nervous, he didn't hate it. In fact, he liked it.

“The others warned me, you're quite the flirt? But men tend to get quite intimidated by me. My name is [y/n] a pleasure” she said putting her hand out.

“Oh, please the pleasures all mine miss [y/n]” he said as he gently grasped her hand placing a gentle kiss upon her skin.

She smiled and gently caressed her slim fingers down his arm, “Well from one flirt to another, I’m quite the jealous type Mr. Cook if you flirt with me you can’t give the same treatment to another”.

Sanji felt a chokehold on him, he had just learned of this woman's name, yet he would give up all the other women in the world in a heartbeat.

“Jealous hmm? Well, there isn't a pretty lady as beautiful as you, so I doubt I would even think about another.” He was past the point of no return her charm had hooked and reeled him in she and he both knew it.

The woman retracted her hand from his arm and turned away from the cook walking back over to the entrance.

“Though I am a flirt, if I really want something… I will have it” she smiled devilishly.

Sanji felt a pit in his stomach, this woman was doing many things to him, he wanted her but of course, he wouldn’t just force himself on a woman.

“Oh and… you might want to check those meatballs I think they may be slightly overcooked” she smiled as she walked out.

Sanji panicked as the meatballs burst into flames he quickly grabbed a cloth to fan the fire out with and sighed in relief once it was put out.

“What am I going to do with her around…”.

Later that night at the dinner table, [y/n] had sat next to Sanji. Sanji felt a blush creep upon his face, though it had only been a bit since their first encounter he really couldn't take his eyes off her. 

After some time of everyone exchanging conversations, he finally decided to strike up a conversation. 

“You really are beautiful…” was all he could say, he was practically transfixed by her.

[y/n] looked at the cook she didn't mind if others were around, better for her to show the other ladies how it’s done.

“You're not so bad yourself handsome” she winked.

Sanji felt his heart racing, no woman had given him this type of attention, it was so new to him. He loved it. His grin and ego grew from the compliment.

“Don’t go complimenting fancy brows over there it will go right to his head” Zoro said in between bites of his meal.

[y/n] laughed at the comment and turned her attention toward Zoro, it quickly made Sanji fill with worry. He knew that Zoro and [y/n] would possibly get along, who wouldn’t get along with a woman like her?

Though [y/n] had continued her chat with Zoro she had sneakily placed her hand on Sanji’s obvious that her attention was still on him though she was talking with another man.

A small smirk came back to his face when he felt her hand on his, it made him excited but relieved that she still had her sights on him.

After dinner was over [y/n] went over to the deck to gaze upon the ocean. Sanji finished up the dishes and saw the deck was empty, no one was around but her. This was his moment, to get her attention without anyone to bother. He leaned over the railing and watched the ocean with her, he reached for his cigarettes but quickly placed them back into his pocket.

“Hello, lover boy~ What do I owe the pleasure?” she said while looking over to the chef.

He smiled softly, “You don’t owe me anything, I just thought to keep the beautiful lady company”.

[y/n] did feel a little flustered by the gesture, the whole time Sanji had been flustered and wrapped around her finger but now he seemed to be ready for her comments.

He gently placed his hand on [y/n]’s hips, causing the roles to reverse, he stepped up his game he realized that if he kept letting her be in control he would lose this flirting game. 

Though she was flustered she also didn't want to back down, “And who exactly said you could touch me?” she smirked.

Sanji let out a small laugh as he could tell she was enjoying it in comparison to her words, he leaned closer to her and looked into her eyes. “Someone told me once that if they want something they will have it. So I just decided to take what I wanted”.

“Oh really now?” [y/n] smirked at the blonde and grabbed his hand pulling Sanji closer to her “I do believe everyone had fallen asleep after their meal” she said gently while looking at his lips. 

Sanji was a bit surprised by the sudden pull, his mind flooded with ideas of just the two of you alone while everyone slept. She was bold, his mind was going crazy and he wanted to do something about it.

“Since no one is around how about a little taste?~” she kept her eyes bouncing back and forth between his eyes and lips.

With the way [y/n] stared at his lips, he knew exactly what she wanted, a little taste of him. A smirk would then appear on his face, he enjoyed this new thrill of tug of war between him and her. 

“I could never deny a pretty lady like you,” he said before leaning forward and placing his lips onto hers.

For a man who had flirted with many women, he couldn't deny that this was his first time feeling butterflies in the pit of his stomach. And for a woman who seemed to have all the boys wrapped around her fingers, she too had never felt quite like how she did with this man. 

He moved his hands around her hips and pressed their bodies closer together, the kiss was passionate, and long and made the two feel their bodies heat up. After their lips parted his face was simply in awe and he let out a satisfied breath gripping [y/n]’s hips with need.

“Wow… that was… great,” he said as he had his eyes fixed on the beauty before him. 

[y/n] also let out a content sigh, she felt a warm feeling stirring within her and she needed it to be extinguished.

“How about we head over to the lounge room? That is if you want to of course”.

“Lead the way…”.

He took her by the hand and started to lead [y/n] back to the kitchen/meeting/lounge room. Once in the room, [y/n] noticed that the whole place had been cleaned, Sanji was a very responsible cook. Though it was something that might go unnoticed by the rest of the crew she did take notice.

Sanji went over to the provisions and moved them aside to show a bed. It was a small bed, but the only place you could get privacy on a private ship with a group of men who shared the same room.

[y/n] didn’t mind it though, she would practically take this man anywhere in her current state. She sat on the bed and Sanji sat beside her.

“Well, are you ready?”.

“Are you?” he replied back with a playful tone.

[y/n] let out a small laugh before sitting on his lap leaning into him pressing their lips once again against one another. His fantasies were finally coming to life, her sitting in his lap making his pants tighten just at the friction from her body touching his. [y/n] gently ran her fingers through his hair, earning a moan from the cook. His body heated up at her taking the lead, he decided to put his hand in her hair pulling on it gently earning a moan from [y/n].

“You are so beautiful my dear~” he let out softly against her lips.

The two’s breaths increased, as the air between them kept thinning from the non-stop kiss.

The kiss eventually came to a halt, the two panting for air but eager for the next step.

“You taste good just like your meals chef~” she said softly under her panting breath.

The compliment sent him into heaven, his heartbeat intensifying just like the tightness in his pants.

“And you are even more tastier than my meals…” he smirked.

“Though there is something I think that might taste better than your meals…” [y/n]’s gaze fell upon the large bump in his pants.

His face reddened at the comment, “you really are too much…” he said softly not moving even a muscle. 

“That's what I’m told~” she giggled and moved off the bed to her knees unzipping his pants and pulling his boxers down to reveal his size. His cock twitched at the cold air and hardened as he felt her gaze staring down at it.

Sanji gently tilted her head upwards, “A beautiful lady like you should be on the bed getting treated, not on her knees…”.

He got up and grabbed [y/n] gently placing her onto the small bed as he stood in between her legs lowering himself to her core.

[y/n]’s breath hitched at the sudden change of position. Sanji left gentle kisses trailing up her leg towards the hem of her shorts, gently pulling them off as he did so along with her panties. She was starting to press her thighs together, she hadn’t felt shy with anyone before but he made her feel like she was a teen head over heels for a crazy boy. Sanji smirked at the sight, he continued to place kisses till he reached her sensitive spot, his digits entering inside her folds gently adding another while he continued to kiss her inner thighs and thrust his fingers inside her.

“Ah~ Shit~” [y/n] moaned out at the attention her lower half was getting, she felt her walls clench onto his two fingers, but it wasn’t enough. 

“Be patient my dear~ we have a long night ahead of us~” he said as he went back down to shower her clit with his skilled tongue.

[y/n] was going mad, she felt her body tensing as it was getting ready to release, and she pulled back Sanji's head. She panted softly and grabbed him by his tie pulling him up towards her and pushing him onto the bed. She placed herself on top of his cock and slowly placed it at her entrance letting it fill her up inside.

“[y/n] fuck…” he clenched his eyes shut at the tightness, it felt so good he almost came just from putting it inside.

She sat for a moment as she adjusted to his girth and length. She was inwardly cursing him out for being so girthy. After the two settled, [y/n] started to move her hips up and down his length letting out small moans of pleasure as Sanji thrust his hips along with her movements. The two let out moans filling the empty room with nothing but the sounds of their skin slapping together and the bed creaking beneath them. Sanji managed to snake his hand up [y/n]’s stomach under her shirt grasping onto her breast as she bounced. He couldn't even catch his breath, the whole situation was like a dream to him, her moans coming from the pleasure he gave her filled him with ecstasy. He pinched her nipples lightly while he reached under her bra. Just the sound of her moans alone could make him cum, he could feel himself getting close to his release. 

[y/n] continued her movements leaning down and gripping his shirt, “make a mess of me Sanji” she said before pressing her lips against his.

Those words flipped a switch in him, and a signal went to his brain, making him go insane. He knew what she wanted him to do and he would deliver. His whole body quaked as he felt himself ready to cum. The two continued moaning and panting, and [y/n] felt herself tighten around Sanjis cock. Sanji groaned in response to the tightness he moved his hands from her breast and gripped her hips. He began to thrust upwards into her harder, filling every inch of her inside. They could both feel themselves, Sanji was the first to give in. His cum shot inside her, dripping from out of her hole and onto his pants. The warmth that shot into [y/n]’s body made her tighten and her body twitched from its high. The two let out a long moan and grunt when they finished and [y/n] laid herself against the chef.

“Who would think the two flirts would hook up with each other” she said softly with a content sigh as she caught her breath.

“You’re crazy you know that? You showed me a whole new type of woman, you really know how to make a man weak” Sanji laughed and threw his arms around her.

[y/n] lifted her head a bit in confusion, “what’s so funny about that?” she raised a brow.

“Nothing, I just feel like the luckiest man alive…” he said as he let out a few more laughs.

#one piece #straw hat pirates #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #one peice #x reader #one piece x reader #sanji x reader #sanji smut #one piece smut #one piece headcanons #smut #vinsmoke sanji smut

[spockandawe]

Here's a big project I've been sitting on! All That You Love Will Be Carried Away, by our very own @ceruleancynic! And a box, naturally, building boxes for books continues to bring me immense joy.

What we have here is not just the main fic, or the main series, but also All That You Love (The High Hope Remix) alt pov short fic by byzantienne, and, a detail that I was really excited to include: the initial comment exchange between these two fantastic authors of m the first fic in the series. Did I title that second little book 'all that you meet cute will be carried away' as a silly placeholder? Did I then get super attached and refuse to change it? Uh-

Hell yeah, I refuse to be dignified about any of my favorite hobbies!

But the real secret delight here was that I've been looking for the right opportunity to get weird with boxes. Peller boxes, hinged slipcases, yes, fine, but those are like the box version of my sixfold book adventure. I'm still shooting for some parallel to my fourteenfold book, I'm looking for a way to go completely off the rails. I have some ideas, but it's hard, finding a good large chonk and a small number of equally sized texts, which made a unified and complete set, AND which excited me to work with. That might sound unnecessarily picky, but I swear, there was a good reason for it!

Oh baby. Oh baby.

This worked out so perfectly. I wanted a large book at the center of things. And I wanted two small books oriented in a different direction, placed end to end, at its edge. And I got it! I didn't want to commit too early, and it would have been heartbreaking to fail, but once the big book was together, and the preliminary typesets for the two little books were almost identical? I just HAD to try.

Tumblr is already silencing me and refusing to let me attach as many images as I want, so for this post, let's talk about the main book a little! Cute little quarto bricks are my new FAVORITE favorite thing, as I'm sure you can guess from my archives, and this one was a dream to put together.

It had to be a three-quarter leather binding, naturally. And I was sitting on some gorgeous iridescent maroon paper for endpapers (no photos in this set, it refuses to photograph well, as is the way of pretty iridescent things). I spent some time agonizing over my other material, and whether to use two different marbled patterns, but I went with it in the end. The vibes were distinct enough but the palettes overlapped enough that I really enjoyed the effect. And with the northcott art of marbling fabrics (my beloved) I was able to use lines of symmetry to get some nice fussy cuts for the big book and the little ones. All of the books have leather endbands, matching the spine. And the big book has the big thick faux raised bands I tried out with my last svsss! I don't have enough pictures to show off all the book interiors, but I used this cover plate for the series and main fics within it.

And then, like I showed you above, I put it all together. Marbled paper and silk moire for covering the box, a lot of very tense wrangling of glued-up paper in very small spaces, and, at one point, carefully lowering glue-covered pieces of moire bookcloth down these little pits (walls already covered) using that tab in the front like the world's awkwardest elevator shaft. But the EFFECT!

I'm very, very pleased with myself, and delighted to have delivered this book to its new home. I've been absolutely VIBRATING with a desire to share, so! I can't be contained by tumblr's image limit. Hold on for two seconds (approx.) and I'm going to reblog this post with some wip pictures and more detail about how I worked this thing out and assembled this box and modified my initial design on the fly

#crafts #bookbinding #ceruleancynic #all that you love will be carried away #box making #did i manage to photograph the main book with the foil all reflecting in decent light so it shows up properly? #please dont expect too much of me i get overexcited when i can see the finish line 😂

[withahappyrefrain]

Peter & Sunshine ...goodbye (3)

Crying because I missed my babies! Peter with a Sunshine!reader/OC (appearance is not described too much); language and third person POV. You can read more about their adventure here. Kiss prompts here

She liked to think of herself as grounded. Calm. Assured.

She knew the routine was coming, that it was a part of his daily life. But hearing about it and witnessing it were two different things, much to her dismay.

Hearing about it made her bite her bottom lip, a distant yet manageable anxiousness building up in her brain. But Peter always came back, that's how he was able to tell her about it in that moment.

Seeing Peter get ready in person made her heart ache. Her throat tightened, leaving her unable to take a full breath as he looked over maps of the city, planning where he would patrol for the night.

He saw them as areas he could get work done, where he could make a difference.

She saw them as a bright flashing signs of danger.

"Sunshine?"

He was the only person who called her that, only person who could.

If anything happened, the nickname that made her feel warm and loved would die with him.

Peter's large hands placed on her shoulders forced her to look up.

"You okay?" His whiskey colored eyes were full of concern. Her face had hardened, lips pulled into a tight line instead of her usual radiant smile. Her brows knitted together in a tense knot.

She looked more like him in that moment. Peter didn't like it.

"Are you...." her voice cracked, "Come back to me. In one piece?"

His arms wrapped around her body, pulling her into a tight hug, her face against his chest. The sweet smell of cinnamon flooded her nostrils, bringing some relief to her aching heart.

"I'll come home to you. Always. Whatever it takes, Sunshine."

She knew he couldn't promise her that. Too many uncontrollable variables. Too many what if's.

But in his arms, in this moment, it was more than enough.

When she looked up, a small, but bright smile was on her face. Light flooding back into her eyes. The bridge of her nose slightly scrunched.

His sunshine.

With a hand now in his chestnut hair, she was able to guide his lips to hers. Peter's lips were soft, well worth having to stand on the tips of her toes so they could stay pressed against her lips. A warmth bloomed in her chest, spreading to the rest of her body.

The ache in her chest subsided, though it still lurked due to knowing that after this kiss he would leave to patrol the streets of New York.

But for now, they both felt at ease. It would be different when he left her apartment, but she had prepared for that, a list of comfort movies and her cat, Yuzu, ready at her couch.

When they broke away for air, Peter now had a faint smile on his face, though his eyes still flickered with uneasiness.

Her fingers trace the side of his face, committed to remembering every scar and freckle.

"Go get 'em Tiger."

#my writing #ask #peter parker fanfic #peter parker smut #peter parker angst #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm!spiderman x reader #andrew!peter parker #andrew!peter x reader #andrew!spiderman #andrew!peter imagine #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter x you #tasm peter imagines #tasm peter fluff #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm spiderman #tasm!peter fluff #tasm! peter parker x reader #tasm! peter Parker angst

[mllemarianne]

Indulging

Aemond Targaryen x F!Strong!Reader

Part 1: Deserving Part 2: Indulging Part 3: Striving

Summary: After your little adventure in the Stormlands, you are now betrothed to your prince. You have everything you have ever wanted. So why are you fleeing the Red Keep on the eve of your wedding…

Word count: 18.5k

Warnings: Angst, fluff and smut (6k words total!) Sexual tension, hurt/comfort. English is my second language.

N/A: Brace yourselves for the second half of this part lol Discover what happened during the 2 weeks between their adventures in the Stormlands and the wedding! One thing is for sure: they are feral all the way to the end. Unfortunately, Aemond can’t possibly let go of his demons in one night. Some Aemond POV too this time. Enjoy!

Masterlist | AO3

Aemond

Aemond slipped into your chambers after bribing the guards, like he did every night since you got back from your little adventure in the Stormlands. Only this time, all he wanted was a few words with you. And of course, you were not alone.

Unbeknownst to you, he entered your chambers and hid in the shadows. He watched as your maid brushed your long hair and exchanged some words with you. He noticed how tense you looked, fiddling with the hem of your nightgown’s sleeve. And he knew. He knew..

You were hurt, and he had to make it right again. Especially since it was the eve of your wedding. He refused to see everything fall apart after a fortnight only. Not when he spent his life longing for this.

It did not take long before you thanked your maid, confided you had a headache and wished not to be disturbed until the morning.

Aemond ducked behind a silk screen covered in paintings of flowers and birds. On it rested your impressive wedding gown. Blue silk trimmed with silver lace. He smiled when he saw the small dragon shaped clasps. His mother had the seamstresses working day and night for it to be done on such a short notice. He could not help but imagine you in it, holding his hands and swearing to the old gods and the new that you would be his until your last day.

Holding his breath, he watched the maid curtsy and leave your chambers. He was about to reveal himself when suddenly, he froze in place.

Your eyes were glued to the door and you listened carefully as your maid’s footsteps slowly faded in the distance. After a few seconds, you got up and stripped until your naked form was all he could see in the dim lighting. Seeing you undress was always a peak of his day… but then you reached for something that did not look like your nightgowns.

…What was it? Some kind of commoner's dress? It was a simple flowy white dress that hung from your shoulders with red beads. 

Still hidden, Aemond stood in silence as his worst nightmare manifested before his eye. A chill ran down his spine when you put on a hood and grabbed a pair of simple leather boots. The kind of boots you can easily run away in, he thought.

For an instant, you seemed hesitant. Looking at your vanity, you probably thought about how awful the last hours— fortnight, even— had been. A nightmare for you, he was sure.

He had warned you. The people at court were cruel and sometimes, he wished he could sweep in with Vaghar and burn them all until they were nothing more than ashes. And he would probably do it now. 

It was too much for you. You were hurt… And you were leaving.

Good things never came to him, so however heartbreaking it was to see you flee like a thief in the night… it did not come as a surprise to him. He was but a crippled second son with nothing to offer except his love, and you deserved so much more. Your former betrothed was certainly a better option, with his own castle, lands, armies… and looks…

His chest tightening, his heart breaking, he watched as you grabbed the necklace he gave you long ago. The necklace you wore everyday since. You almost put it on, but ultimately shoved it in your pocket along with some crumpled up paper and other whatnots.

Reader

You observed yourself one last time in your mirror, to gather some strength if anything… when you unexpectedly noticed him in the dark.

His impeccable silvery white hair picked up some of the light from the fire burning beside you. Hidden in a corner, Aemond stood tall, eye locked on you, arms crossed behind his back. He had a weary frown and his lips were pressed in a thin line. 

Oh gods.

Eyes widening, your spine straightened as you got caught and he slowly walked up to you. His hair bounced on his shoulders and his wonderful amber and sandalwood scent hit you at once when he stopped mere inches away from you. 

You looked up at him and you knew he tried to keep a straight face, but you could feel the hurt behind his eye.

“Aemond– ” you said quietly. “You are leaving?” he sharply queried.

Your eyes widened even more, panic seeping through. “Aemond, I–”

“No, let me speak.” he insisted bitterly.

You feared what he was about to say. You felt his ire. You felt his ache. He was cross with you.

He had been so silent lately and you always hated when he did that. Still, you did not think he would show up to your chambers this night of all nights. Seeing your betrothed on the eve of your wedding, bad luck and all. Superstitions, merely, but your prince was keen on tradition and you respected that.

Then again, you knew why he came to you anyway. The day, nay the last two weeks, had indeed been… eventful.

A fortnight before

Reader

When you went through the Mud Gate, you saw your father and almost thirty guards standing in a circle, planning the day’s search party for Aemond and you. The Prince and the daughter of the Hand had been missing for more than a day by now. You felt guilty when you imagined your father frantically looking for you everywhere as you did not come back the previous day.

Well… you almost felt guilty.

Even though your original plan was to confess your love and devotion to Aemond during your trip in the Stormlands, you had not planned to take shelter in a village inn during a frightful storm. You had not planned for Aemond to shut down, resulting in you gouging words out of him. You had not planned to share a ridiculously small bed and to spend the night wrapped in each other's arms. And you definitely had not planned for you to make passionate love that very morning after he surrendered his heart, body and soul to you.

“There they are, my lord”, one of the guards said. Suddenly aware of the crowd, you let go of your prince’s hand and went to your father. You saw relief in his eyes and he hugged you tight when you reached him. You tried to hide your bare arms under your cloak, but you were not quick enough to escape his sharp eye.

The Queen rushed to you as well. She kept pulling at Aemond’s hair to tame it, but nothing could be done. It was still wavy from the pouring rain and the flight back. To be fair, you were both a mess. Your clothes smelled of dragon and were coated in mud and dust. 

Aemond pushed the Queen’s hands away in a gentle manner and immediately asked for an audience with the King and your father. He did not waste a single second. As promised.

He took your hand again as you all climbed the stairs, heading to the council meeting chamber. However, when you went to enter the room, your father requested that you wait outside. 

Aemond turned to you and planted a chaste kiss on your knuckles…then cupped your face and swiftly kissed you on the lips. Your pulse went wild and pink bloomed on your cheeks. He smirked arrogantly, amused by your sudden shyness. Just like when you were children, he waited to see if you would kiss him back.

To say you were shocked by your prince’s doings was un understatement. Usually, he did that when people were not looking. Certainly not under the stare of the three most powerful people in all of the Seven Kingdoms. One of them being your own father.

You kissed him back quickly. He then disappeared into the room, still smirking. Indubitably flustered, you turned around, avoiding any and all eye contact, curtsied and left. You waited until the guard closed the door to run around the corner and reach a certain tapestry. Your father had you play cupbearer during some council meetings in the recent years, so you knew about the hidden vent.

A vent allowing you to hear and see everything.

“I do think it oddly coincidental that the day your daughter’s betrothal to Lord Tyrell’s son, Luthor, was announced, my own son and her went missing only for them to reappear a day later, wishing to join our two families in front of the Seven.” Queen Alicent told your father in one breath. She turned her head to address Aemond directly. “Is she with child?”

“Your grace—” began your father.

“Of course not, mother!” cut Aemond, annoyed.

“And the Hand gets to marry his daughter to a prince. How practical, Lord Strong– ”

“No, I get the honor of marrying her,” cut Aemond again. He stood in front of your father to speak to him directly. “For the longest time, even now still, she is the reason I get up in the morning. She is loyal and has always been there for me, even when my own family was not,” he confessed, avoiding the King’s gaze. “I wish I could apologize for acting so imperiously, but I will not take no for an answer.”

Queen Alicent gently pulled him aside while your father and the King discussed the matter of your current betrothed. “Are you certain? …Does she want this as well?” You felt bad yet grateful for the Queen’s concern. You were not blind. She cared for the King, yes, but she was invariably thrown at him at a young age without any saying in the matter.

“She loves me, mother. Despite my temper, despite the snickers following me everywhere, despite my face, she loves me.” You had not said the words to him yet, but he clearly knew of your true feelings. Although, your heart shattered a bit at the self-loathing coating his words.

“My sweet boy, stop saying “despite”. It is not all there is to you.” The Queen uttered in a reassuring tone, leaning in to comfort her son but he backed off.

“I have loved her all my life.” he insisted. You knew that now, but hearing it again had your heart skipping a beat. “I was always yours” he admitted to you the same morning. The Queen opened her arms again. He embraced her this time.

“I know. And of course she loves you. She defended you so fiercely when you…”

She did not finish her sentence, but you knew all too well what atrocious event she was referring to. When his nephews and nieces gang up on him after he called them Strong bastards, no one– not even the King–  stood up to defend him. Only his mother and you. Even if he had dragged your older brother into it, you had defended your prince.

When it came to it, the King gave his verdict… and he was pleased. The King was pleased. After all these years, he knew you as a sweet, thoughtful yet daring girl. “A real warrior, that one!” he proclaimed once, when he spied you knocking Aemond to the ground during hand-to-hand combat training in the yard. Furthermore, your father was an honorable man and the King did not have any doubt regarding his intentions.

King Viserys agreed to his son’s request and told your father they could surely work something out to “ease possible arising tensions”. Namely young Luthor Tyrell losing his bride a day after the announcement of his betrothal and a moon before his wedding.

The Queen declared the ceremony could be set in two moons time, at the Great Sept of Baelor. With his head held high and his face unreadable, Aemond only replied: “I wish to marry her in a fortnight.”

Your heart stopped again. Seeing him so eager almost made you tear up. The Queen begged him to be reasonable, reminding him that some lords and ladies would be traveling from afar, that they needed time to plan a tourney in your honor and feasts. You knew Aemond did not care about any of that. And he did not budge. “We will marry in a fortnight. It is enough time to gather her family and ours. That is all that matters.” Alicent was not entirely sure Aemond told her everything, but accepted her son’s demands nevertheless. You ran back to the main entrance when the meeting was over and your prince went straight to you. Bracing his hands on each side of your waist, he whispered “It’s done, my betrothed.”

You looked at him with love and he mirrored your bright smile. He kissed your cheek this time and let his lips linger, relishing in the softness of your skin and the smell of your hair.

“Your father wishes to speak to you, dear girl,” the Queen imparted. “Aemond, you need to come with us. Unfortunately, you have duties to the realm beyond flying around on Vaghar.” she added, looking at you with a faint but genuine smile.

Aemond exhaled against your cheek, then stared at you with a look full of longing. You knew the only thing he wished for this instant was to drag you to whichever of your chambers were the closest… but to both your displeasures, he followed Sir Cristen to the armory for some princely duties. 

“I have to speak to Lord Tyrell now. However much a gentleman Luthor is, he won’t be very pleased,” your father stated when you joined him in the council chamber.

“I’m deeply sorry, father. He seemed like a wonderful man.”

He smiled fondly but incredulously. “He was everything I ever wished for you. He was perfect, indeed… but something tells me you are not as deeply sorry as you say.”

You smiled slightly as an answer.

Hesitant, he peeked at the heavy doors still open and prone to indiscrete ears. Lowering his voice, he probed: “May I ask where you could possibly have been?” 

“We visited the Stormlands. The weather made it too dangerous to fly back. We stopped at an inn for the night.” you simply stated.

“So you took shelter.”

“Yes.”

“Alone with the prince.”

“Yes.”

“And all of a sudden, the prince wants to marry you in a fortnight.”

You did not quite know if it was a question, a statement or an accusation. Or maybe was it all three?

“… he does, yes.”

He looked at you intently, demanding more details.

“I can be very persuasive.” you evasively asserted.

Indeed, he thought. He knew you went out there and got what you wanted. It seemed he was constantly underestimating you. He sometimes forgot you were no longer five of age and chasing cats around the castle grounds at Harrenhal. Now, you could inarguably rule a kingdom with that much resilience and volition.

Your father's eyes wander at your dress again. You hid once more your bare arms under your mud-caked hood. Not only did Aemond shred the white shift you normally wore underneath, he threw it in the damn hearth. “Inadvertently”, he assured you. Too eager to see your bare bosom to notice or care, more like. It had beautiful little flower embroideries, you were furious.

Your father thought about his next words carefully. Lowering his voice to almost a whisper, he inquired: “...am I right in thinking you find yourself in need of moon tea?”

You chewed on your cheek as you had flashbacks of your early morning… of Aemond slowly losing his composure as you shamelessly ground your hips on him… of the whole of you shaking uncontrollably under his taut body… of the faintest of “I love you” he breathed in your ear as he spilled himself deep inside you…

With your spine ramrod straight, without a trace of shame or remorse, you said: “I won’t insult you by pretending otherwise.”

He nodded, walked to the door. Before he left altogether, he added: “I am no fool, I will have some delivered daily and discreetly to your chambers,” You repressed a chuckle, wondering if it was necessary when the wedding was merely days away.

The late afternoon sun shone bright when Aemond found you in the gardens with Halaena. You were eating lemon cakes, both outstretched on cushioned chairs in a veranda by a glorious pond brimming with water lilies. You were freshly bathed and wore the most revealing dress you owned. 

Aemond had also changed it seemed. His long hair was neat again. The Gods knew how tangled you left them that morning. 

“My betrothed.” you jested. Or were you? It had a nice ring to it.

“See, I like this formal title.” he answered with a simple smile that curled his lips, his eye falling swiftly to your plump breasts half spilling out of your dress before he turned to Heleana. “Sister, I’m afraid I need my betrothed on some urgent matter.”

You saw fire in his eye.

“Indeed,” you concurred, knowing exactly what sort of business desperately needed your tending. “Thank you for everything Helaena, it was a lovely afternoon, I’ll be sure to find the book in the library.”

“You are not fooling anyone, you know,” she remarked as Aemond grabbed your hand and dragged you back to the Red Keep. He held onto your fingers so tight you thought you might lose them.

“You seem tense, my prince. What could possibly cause such restlessness?” you asked, yelping as he groped your behind through the fabric of your dress as an answer.

Three minutes.

That is all it took. Not even ten steps in the Red Keep and Queen Alicent intercepted you both, seamstresses in tow. A rushed royal wedding meant twice as much preparation. You needed to get your dress sorted out as soon as possible. You needed jewels made. You needed to learn the traditional nuptial dance and to learn your vows.

Aemond’s blood seemed to be boiling in his veins as you were separated once more.

Aemond

Clearly, the Gods were punishing the both of you. Aemond had to get hold of himself. He could not possibly be losing it. He was a grown man, for gods’ sake. He even wondered how he managed to go on about his day before you were betrothed to him.

The answer was barely.

It was no surprise he selfishly spent so much time with you. You made him feel good a little bit everyday, which was an exploit considering how people were utter cunts everyday.

He spent his time looking at you, observing you when you were not looking. Apparently, not as subtly as he thought he was being, you told him. He sometimes allowed himself to touch you. While you were training or riding Vhagar with him. Sometimes it was too much, and he shamelessly found relief in the arms of one of his mother’s chambermaids. He was not proud of it. Especially since you confessed spying on him once.

Training with you was the highlight of his days. He liked how strong you were, no pun intended. He liked the smell of you in the morning, when your hair was damp with sweat as you spared with your swords. You were one of the few who could best him in hand-to-hand combat. And you were truly deadly with your daggers. Unquestionably better than half the knights you trained with. He loved that about you. Even if he was horrified by the dozens of scars he found on you as you laid in bed with him.

He particularly enjoyed walking in the gardens with you. Even when you were children, you ran away from your septa only to meet him in your secret spot on top of the hill. Hidden in the tall grass, you would read books or nap under a willow tree. Lately, you also went at night to look at the stars and drink wine.

The library was his favorite. Especially since you decided you had to read books only wearing a nightgown lately. Everytime, he made sure the fire was dying. It was his own little punishment for the torture you seemed to enjoy putting him under. You were cold, but he got to see your breasts peak through the sheer fabric.

Lately, he particularly indulged in the little adventures you liked to plan. You gave him the destination, and he supplied the dragon to get there. When you asked him to go to the Stormlands the day before, he did not hesitate. He knew something was wrong. You had not joined him in the library the night before. Your absence at the morning training session had not gone unnoticed either.

Flying back in the storm was already the pinnacle of unpleasantness, but when you broke the news of your betrothal to another, Aemond fell into a sort of trance. He knew this day would come, and for a moment, he found the courage to let you go. He would not even speak, afraid to ruin everything. He knew how his silence irritated you at times, but he had to… for he knew what a life with him would be like.

He never dreamed of burdening you with a life ensnared in torment and ridicule. It meant incessant mockery, rude encounters and even ruder stares from the people of the court. He did not want that for you. He loved you enough to keep silent, wallowing in his own despair at the very idea of losing your ever soothing presence. He sacrificed his own desires for what he thought was best. He did not deserve you.

But then…

He did not expect to spend the night in your arms in a dingy inn during a storm.“I want you,” you repeated again and again while you threw yourself at him. You climbed on top of him, looking like a goddess in your simple white shift… you said all these filthy things about thinking of him while touching yourself at night… you shared how you wanted to feel him, wishing for him to make you scream his name… “Claim me!” you commanded, grinding your bare cunt on his equally bare cock.

Aemond was a prince, a dragonrider, a scholar, a trained fighter… but he was also just a man.

So he obliged. He willingly let go of everything that held him back and took whatever you would give him. Not only did you give him your body, you also gave him your heart and all your devotion. He loved you so deeply, he had no choice but to give in to what he desired the most for as long as he could remember.

The way you looked at him that morning was forever engraved in his memory. The morning sun hit his sapphire and hundreds of blue specks of light danced on your smiling face.

No one had ever looked at him like that.

It was the moment he knew that… mayhaps he could find happiness in a world that had been so cruel to him for years. The mere prospect of spending his days and his nights with you as his lady wife almost erased the misery of the last seven years. Misery he desperately tried to keep hidden from you. You, who inexplicably loved him.

Although, things were not settled yet. He could only manage to have the wedding ceremony held in a fortnight. He had his reasons. Hells, some part of him would have married you today if he had the possibility.

Aemond shook his head. Again all his thoughts were of you as the thudding of his boots echoed in the stone hallways. It was an hour before you had to join both your family in the royal dining room, and he had plans for the remaining time.

He went straight to your chambers and got past your guards without any hesitation. At this point, he did not care in the least.

He needed you. He needed you now.

His eye patch went flying through the room unceremoniously. He was about to do the same with his sword when he noticed the royal jeweler still taking measurements of your fingers and your neck. Aemond’s jaw clenched as he locked eye with you through your looking glass.

Intrigued by the giant sapphire Aemond wore, the jeweler stared at it. A little too long to Aemond’s taste in fact. He immediately went scrambling for his eye patch and held his sword right in front of him, as if it would somehow hide the clear swollen bulge in his trousers. From the look on your face, you appeared as out of sorts as he was.

He rarely spent his days without you, and while he could bear it before, now that you were his, it was torture.

Especially since he felt your touch. He savored your taste. He enjoyed your warmth and revelled in your scent. And he wanted it all again now.

He wanted your perfect breasts in his mouth and to tease you with his tongue until you arched into him. He wanted you soaking his sheets as he buried himself over and over again in your sweet cunt. He wanted you mewling in his ear while he held onto you so tight you could only shake and cry out as he brought you over the edge. He wanted to stay inside you after you were finished, relishing in your lovely heat, some part of him wishing for your belly to swell already, only to stun you with a thrust when he felt you drifting off.

Aemond wanted to worship you… but it seemed you could not be alone. For. One. Damn. Second. 

He elected to sit on your dark blue velvet settee, picked a book from your personnel collection and tried to calm himself down.

Reader

Of course, by the time the jeweler had finished his business, you were expected downstairs for your first meal with the royal family.

You were finally alone, regardless of how improper it was for Aemond to be found in your chambers unchaperoned. He stared at you with raised eyebrows, utterly unimpressed as you laughed uncontrollably, wildly entertained by his state of distress. Oh how you liked to see his walls crumbling around him everytime he was in your presence now.

“I wish I shared your amusement.” he scoffed. 

You would bet your life Aemond was on the brink of madness this very moment. You craved him too, but being late was out of the question.

“If I’d known it only took one night with me to completely unravel you, I would have acted sooner,” you bantered, raising a hand to tame a few strands of his hair.

His hands found your waist, fisting the fabric. “Mayhaps I should remind you which one of us was begging, this morning,” he purred in your ear, pressing his body to yours.

You stole away a kiss, but hauled him outside of your chamber. You did not have the will or strength to stop him– or yourself– if you stayed alone a minute more. That hitch that only he could scratch. You felt it desperately too.

You held his arm while he escorted you up the tower. Lamentably, there were people everywhere again. Your guards followed you. Servants carried wood to make fires later in the evening. Drunk knights laughed while exchanging lewd stories of their youth.

You crossed paths with a gathering of lords and ladies of the court. They went quiet and split to let you through. Some peered at you with wonder. Two of them exchanged quiet words as you passed by. Aemond's grip tightened on your arm and he quickened his pace. Of course, by now the whole castle knew of your sudden betrothal to the prince and you became a topic of conversation.

As if the day had not been long enough already, the diner felt like it would never end. First, the King drank to your health and talked of young love and the union of house Targaryen and Strong. Then plates upon plates appeared on the table and the meal went on and on. Aemond’s face was void of any emotion. He seemed so serious, but then you knew why.

When it came to spending time in his family’s company, he seemed like another person. He sat straight, rarely smiled and spoke even less. You knew he loved them immensely, especially The Queen and his sister, but he undoubtebly did not have the warm relationship you had with your brother Harwin, for instance.

You could feel how uncomfortable he was. Your hand resting on his thigh certainly did not help calming him down, even if your touch was simply loving and supportive. You let go of him, but he grabbed your hand and put it right back where it was without even glancing, all while he exchanged a few words with Prince Aegon. He entwined his fingers and brushed the back of your hand with his thumb. You tried being subtle… but you had to look.

He had beautiful hands. You thought about them all day, in fact. You could not help yourself, you had to glance at them like he always sideyed your breasts. Heat pooled at your core and you felt even more tight in your skin.

Then Prince Aegon spoke louder, making sure you heard him as well. You were used to him being a drunkard prone to raunchy discussions, and tonight was no exception.

Throughout the years, he often invited you to join him in his chambers, his carriage, even a privy of all places once, but you never agreed. Aemond punched him once, when his brother dared ask in front of him, with wandering hands to top it all off. After that, you always hid a dagger in your sleeve, hoping you would never have to use it on a prince of the crown.

“Seriously, I’m proud of you, brother. It only took you 10 years to get her.”

“You drank too much, Aegon. You should retire,” simply retorted Aemond, sipping his wine.

“To be fair, it was I who did all the work, my prince,” you jested innocently. Your prince squeezed your hand and looked at you, but it was too late. You gave his brother enough ammunition.

“Really, you did all the work? Please tell me more, y/n. I do love a woman on top– ”

Aemond banged his cup on the table and stood up in a flash. Still holding your hand, he spoke before you could come up with an even vulgar answer. “Mother, Father, my lord Hand,” he bowed his head to them before he turned to you. “I’m retiring for the evening. May I escort you back to your chambers, lady Strong?”

You had not yet properly answered that he yanked on your arm and whisked you away.

You walked through the hallways at a steady pace. The day was finally over and nothing more was expected from you both. No duties to the crown, no jewelry fitting, nothing. And frankly, you were eager to get away from everyone. “Follow us and I’ll have your heads mounted on spikes.” Aemond snarled through clenched teeth at the guards who went after you. They turned around immediately and scattered. 

Aemond half-mumbled half-cursed something resembling “Can’t be alone for one minute in this damn castle” as you snorted in a very unladylike manner.

“Want me to put on my nightgown?” You asked, desperate to cheer him up.

“We are not going to the library.” he simply stated.

You spied a wine jug in his hand. He nicked it from the diner table. You soon realized he was not taking you to your chambers or his either. He walked you to the gardens.

He dragged you far, up the hill, through the tall grass and close to a tall yew tree. It was your favorite spot, for it was far enough that nobody ever bothered you there. It was where he first kissed you when you were still a young girl. 

“I want you now,” he urged, pushing you against a nearby mossy stone wall, tugging up the hem of your dress without a preamble. He shoved his face in your bosom and licked the valley between your breasts. Your hands went straight to his neck, weaving your fingers through his silky hair shining bright in the moonlight.

Even though you were better than Aemond at hiding your desperation, it did not change the fact that you were a wanton mess at that moment.

You were dripping wet, even feeling it down your trembling thighs. It was a miracle it did not show on your dress after hours of tensely sitting down during dinner, looking at his fingers and imagining all sorts of things.

One of his hands found its way up your thighs and brushed the apex of your sex, briefly playing with your clit before he pushed past your fold with two of his fingers. You gasped, head falling back against the wall.

“Hm… desperate too?” he murmured in your neck as his fingers went in and out of you with ease, finally taking care of that burdening itch. “I could slide right into you.” 

“Yes… please…” you begged, squirming over his expert hand, your forehead buried in his neck. You grabbed his wrist and forced him to press harder, setting your nerves aflame. You whined, hearing the lewd sound of your drenched cunt with every stroke of his long fingers. He ground his hard length against your left thigh with the same pace.

Without notice, he cursed and pulled back his hand. Before you could protest, he grabbed the collar of the blue silk shift you wore underneath your bodice and tore it to free your shoulders and arms.

“If you tear up another of my shifts again, I am feeding you to your dragon, are we clear?”

“I’m getting you dressed with clasps.” he grunted.

He left an apologetic peck on your lips, then went to lick and bite everywhere from behind your ear to your shoulders while you shamelessly pawed at his hard cock through his trousers. He groaned and started fumbling with his belt. You left open mouth kisses to his marred cheek, drunk on his amber and sandalwood scent. You were rewarded with a faint whimper.

He finally freed his manhood, his trousers falling at his feet, still tucked in his boots. Unbothered, he reached underneath your skirt again and bunched up the fabric to your waist. He hooked an arm under each of your thighs and hoisted you up.

Oh gods. He meant it. He wanted you now. And he wanted you against this wall.

Your legs dangled on each side of him and you wrapped them around his hips at once. You hooked a finger in the leather band of his eye patch and yanked it off, wishing to see all of him. He flinched, surprised, but kissed you immediately after.

He nudged you at your entrance, coating his cock in your wetness, brushing your clit every time. “Hold onto my shoulders,” he mumbled in your mouth. You nodded and bit his lower lip in return.

All the tension since you got back to the Red Keep that morning, as you were deliberately kept apart, led to that very moment. You braced yourself and buried your face in his neck, for you knew this would be vigorous, feverish and unrestrained. And you did not want it any other way. You wanted to feel him.

He lined himself up and pushed into you, driving right to the hilt. Still gasping from the full impact of him, you could not breathe as he rocked his hips into yours at once. He covered your mouth with his, stealing away any and all sounds that fell from your lips.

He tore whimpers from you with every thrust. You already felt pleasure building deep in your belly. Your hands roamed his shoulders and neck, desperately trying to feel him through his damn collared leather clad tunic.

He grunted and groaned while you made high pitched sounds, stars flashing behind your eyes. He slammed into you at a torturous pace, so deep his pelvis brushed against your most sensitive part.

“Don’t stop,” you wailed in his ear and he hiked you up higher against the wall. His fingers dug into your plump flesh and you knew you would be bruised in the morning. This new angle had your body spasming and clenching around him. He suddenly hit that spot within you. Every. Single. Time.

Trapped between the wall and his body, you had no choice but to take it. And you loved every second of that feeling.

He pressed even closer to you, desperate to fit all of him in you, his aching balls slapping your cunt every time. He moaned your name loudly and sloppily kissed the side of your open mouth.

His rhythm started to falter. He was close too. You let out a strangled noise and his face fell down into your cleavage.

“More…” you pleaded. “I need more…”

One of his hands let go of your thighs and snaked between your two bodies. You felt his calloused fingers squirm their way to your cunt and you whimpered when he started circling your clit slowly, a stark contrast with the steady pace of his hips.

Your eyes rolled back and with a few more hard thrust, he pushed you over the edge. You jolted in his arms, arching your back as your vision blacked out. Hands clawing at his shoulders and pulling at his hair, you cried out his name as your orgasm ripped through you, waves after waves of pleasure crashing onto you again and again as he kept pumping.

You squeezed him so tight he followed you short after, plunging as deep as he could, groaning your name loudly against your bosom and filling you up with his hot seed. You cried out again as he pulsed inside you, his hips still snapping at yours erratically while he shuddered from his high.

He finally cooled down, completely out of breath. You were shivering hard, head back against the wall, eyes closed, overpowered by this intense moment you just shared. 

He gently pulled out, leaving you with a strange feeling of emptiness, his seed trickling down your inner thigh. When he let go of your legs, you nearly collapsed. They so much as buckled under your weight. He untangled himself from his trousers and boots and laid down half naked in the tall grass with you.

You stayed there a long time, savoring this quiet interlude away from the rest of the world, sipping wine while basking in the moonlight. The warm summer air blew the wispy hair around your face. You listened to the waves crashing on the rocks by the coast. The trees made their own music with each gust of wind. Faint clather came from the Red Keep in the distance…. It was a beautiful cloudless night, and you gazed at the stars.

True to himself, Aemond kept quiet. Except this time, you did not need any words to know how he felt. He was half sprawled on top of you, his head resting on your bosom, bobbing up and down as you catched your breath still.

He turned to you. “Was I too rough?”

“Did you hear me complain?” you asked back.

He hummed and laid his head down again on your breast. It was different from your first time, but in the most exhilarating way.

You slowly brushed his long hair cascading on his back while he traced figures on your arm and chest, leaving patterns in the pearling sweat. He loved doing that, it seemed. Every time, goosebumps rose everywhere. 

“I thought of taking you in this garden so often,” he confessed before he took another sip of wine from the jug and handed it to you. “But I never imagined it this way.”

“What did you imagine? Midnight swim in the pond?”

He grinned. “The lords love to piss in that pond when they are drunk, so no.” 

He turned his head and looked at you, his gaze positively burning. You felt something awaking in your belly again. You nodded at his silent request and let him guide you through his vision. 

He rose, took off the last piece of clothing he still wore— his leathered tunic— and laid it down on the tall grass. He made you sit so he could take off your skirt. When you reached for the laces, he grabbed your hand and shook his head.

He wanted to do it himself. You obliged.

You squirmed out of your skirt but did not attempt to do anything else. He unbuttoned your bodice, discarded what remained of your blue silk shift and he folded it all into a makeshift cushion. He gently pushed your bare back down on his still warm tunic, your folded dress under your backside, propping you up a little. Your breasts pebbled as the chill air from the coast blew. He slowly climbed on top of you, kissing you, caressing every inch of your skin, his hard cock pressing at your core again. 

When he took you against the wall, it was needy. It was rough. It was an itch that desperately needed to be scratched. And it felt so good, you knew you would never forget it. But what Aemond truly wanted was to make love to you in this garden. 

No frivolities. Just you. Just him. No titles, no pressure and nobody else around.

Propped up on one elbow beside your face, his hand went to hold the nape of your neck while the other brushed your still sensitive clit, awaking all your senses and having you sighing already. He kept going, but you wished for more.

“Please, I just want to feel you,” you pleaded, and he did not fret. Holding onto one of your thighs, he went in slowly. He looked upon your face to see it change with every inch while he easily slid himself in you, still wet from both your releases. You liked the stretch. You liked when he reached deep and took your breath away.

He paused to let you adjust and you smiled at him, eyes half closed. He kissed you slowly too, his tongue caressing yours. You melted in his embrace, his breath stuttering against your neck. He kissed your shoulder while you were momentarily lost in all the sensations.

Aemond had his issues. He had his temper, but when he let his soft side come out just for you, you could not help but get emotional.

His lips brushed yours before his head rested in the crook of your neck, his breath fanning your skin, biting and licking your shoulder. You bent your knees on either side of him for better traction and you rocked your hips against his so he knew he could move.

He grabbed your hip to refrain you from moving. Then his hands reached for yours and he laced your fingers, bringing them beside your head. You felt his heart beating fast against your own skin. 

Then he moved. Slowly.

You enjoyed jesting and teasing him, to talk big like you were in absolute control all the time, but for once, you were the silent one. You felt so vulnerable. You half-panted half-sobed in his arms, tears forming in the corner of your eyes as he slid in and out of you without hurry. So calmly. So softly.

It was measured and unhurried. Completely overpowering. Every thrust was long and perfect, continually stroking that spot within you. His hair fell all over you and you inhaled his intoxicating amber and sandalwood scent.

He pulled you apart completely. You felt yourself break, overwhelmed by your feelings and every nerve in your body set ablaze by this agonizingly gentle rhythm.

He was yours. Aemond was yours, as much as you were his. After years of longing, you got to have him. 

Feeling your shaky breath, Aemond cursed and let go of your hands. He held you even closer, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, making sure you were alright.

“I love you”, you only whispered back, your fingers brushing his scarred cheek.

He groaned and picked up the pace, grasping at your thighs, your waist. You left kisses in his neck, hands splayed on his shoulder and lower back, feeling his muscles flex. Whining loudly, you neared your peak and you knew this one would shatter you in a million pieces.

With the night sky above, you were already looking at the stars… yet he made you see more. So many more. 

The following days

Reader

The Queen tried to chaperone you but it was a losing battle. You manage to escape her and her guards' notice every time. Highly annoyed, Aemond even tried to reason with her, saying you spent every day of the last 10 years together without any need for a chaperone.

“You are betrothed now, it would not be proper.” she explained. You laughed uncontrollably, while Aemond looked impossibly bewildered. You recalled him saying these exact words multiple times to you… before he essentially ravished you somewhere in the Stormlands. Oh how he seemed more laxed with the notion of propriety. What a terrible influence, you were.

Lately, you were constantly swarmed with people asking what flowers you wanted for the wedding ceremony, what kind of meal you desired for the feast or which fabric you preferred for your dress. You only cared that your dress was blue with elements recalling the Targaryen dynasty and your Riverland heritage. “With clasps”, you insisted, since Aemond took the sordid habit of tearing up your clothes.

Your family confirmed that they would get to King's Landing in time for the feast and tourney held the day before the ceremony. You could not wait to see your older brother Harwin.

As you served as cupbearer during a council meeting one afternoon, you also learned that there was no news of your former betrothed. For all you knew, Luthor Tyrell did not know yet that his bride had been claimed by the second son of King Viserys.

And claimed you, he did.

Something magical happened in the gardens that night. Your first time was driven by undeniable lust. When he took you against the wall, it was a desperate need. But in the tall grass under the stars? It was pure love. Unconditional, indisputable and passionate love.

Nothing held you back. No guard to spy on you. No one to whisk you away from him. When your passion reached its limit, you screamed his name knowing absolutely no one would hear you but him. You had never felt so free and so loved.

Truth be told, you could not bear to spend time away from each other. You still trained in the morning. Although, you sometimes hid in the armory to indulge in a heated moment after, mostly involving you “yielding” and putting your smart mouth to good use. At midday, you shared a meal outside in the gardens. Which often resulted in Aemond feasting on… something else entirely. In the evening, you still took joy in reading in the library. Except showing up in your best nightgown became mandatory now. The room was always awfully cold… and so was the desk when Aemond would bend you over it and sink into you until pleasure won you over. He sure knew how to warm you up nicely and efficiently. Nobody ever tended to the fire in the library. 

But mostly, when you asked to claim his nights, he took you very seriously. And Aemond Targaryen was a very dutiful man.

Every night, he bribed your guards, slipped in your chambers and climbed into your bed. Since your stay in the Stormlands, not a single night was spent without his strong arms holding you close and his scorching heat keeping you warm all through the night. Every morning, he left before the first light to be found “asleep” in his own chambers. 

The more intimacy you shared, the more things you noticed he loved doing for you… or to you.

He loved burying his head in the crook of your neck to smell your heated skin…  He loved the sounds you made when you fell apart on his tongue… He loved how you trashed and clawed at him when he did not slow down after you climaxed and overstimulated all your senses until you came a few more times, leaving you an utter breathless, babbling and squirming mess… 

But more than anything, he loved caressing every part of your body he could reach after you made love. When you had no energy left and laid down in damp bed sheets, his hands would roam freely on your skin, drawing idle figures and waking every nerve in your body. He did it so often you found yourself daydreaming about his beautiful hands brushing your arms.

However much you liked it, you soon found out something was amiss.

Aemond wanted to train in hand-to-hand combat again. Your septa told you many times over how “wildly inappropriate” it was, but you did not care as it often resulted in one of you sitting on the other’s lap. You sometimes felt the envious gaze of other knights standing around, but paid no mind. Aemond, on the other hand, minded with every fiber of his being. He was very protective of you, even more so since you were his.

Still, hand-to-hand combat was fun, but you loved sparring with swords and daggers too much. You insisted on it that morning in fact. You did not know why, but your prince was not quite himself. He went easy on you, whereas he showed you no mercy usually.

“Bit tired, my prince? Didn’t get enough sleep last night?” you quipped, trying to rile him up. You had, in fact, kept him quite busy.

You heard a few giggles coming from the knights nearby and Aemond scowled at them. He threw another limp jab at your left with his sword and you knew something was bothering him. There was always something when he kept silent like that. “Attack me, Aemond!”

He exhaled, spinning the handle of his sword in his hand. He seemed to regain his usual strength. His sword came down hard on yours. You dodged and danced, trying to get to his blindside, but he would turn around and stop your blow in a loud clang of steel.

You tried again and this time, you felt his sword slicing into your forearm, though your training gear. You winced at the hot white pain that shot through you, tears welling up in your eyes instantly.

His sword went flying to the ground. He was all over you, holding your arm and putting pressure on the wound, making you cry out at the instant jolt of pain. He ordered Sir Cristen to go fetch Maester Mellos immediately whilst he took you to the armory. Aemond got everybody out and made you sit on a large wooden table right before he settled on a bench in front of you. He did not say a single thing during the whole process. 

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” you reassured him, your other hand coming to brush some of his hair away from his face. He unbuttoned your tunic before you could say anything else. He tore up the sleeve of the white shift you had underneath to both see the wound and somewhat preserve your modesty.

“Aemond! You owe me three shirts now!” You reproached him, annoyed yet amused, trying to calm him down but he looked absolutely panicked. “I swear I’m okay–”

“I'm so deeply sorry. Please forgive me,” he begged, using the remains of your sleeve to soak up the blood.

“It’s just a cut, it’s not even that ba–”

“No it’s not!” he insisted.

He would not look you in the eyes. He only ever looked at your forearm bleeding through the cloth.

“Why? What do you mean?” Were you missing something? You grabbed both his arms but he untangled himself immediately and put pressure on your wound again.

“Your arms,” he blurted out, mortified.

You observed the bloodied cloth. Well, it was indeed a deep cut. Not the worst you have ever had, but nothing that would kill you before sundown. “I mean, yes I’ll probably have to get it sewn but it’s not life threatening. It’s almost not bleeding anymore.”

He hummed low, as if it was somehow an answer.

“I have been training with the sword almost everyday for years with you, of course I’m bound to have some scars to show for it.”

Then you get it. The scars.

You had small scars everywhere. Scars he gave you. They are not very visible but if someone were to see you up close— naked, for instance— of course they would notice. It dawned on you that when he traced figures on your arms, he was focusing on every little scar under the pad of his fingers. You thought he simply liked seeing the goosebumps spreading on your skin.

“Do you resent me for it?” he asked seriously.

Everything snapped into place in your head. He feared you held a grudge against him, like the one he held still against Prince Lucerys. It occurred to you that he probably hated himself for it everytime he laid his eye upon them. 

“Have I ever given you that impression?” you asked, guiding his answer.

He stayed silent, but you now worried it was out of embarrassment.

“I hold you no grudges, I just don’t care, Aemond,” you comforted him, caressing his cheek. He hummed again but did not say anything else. You got down from the table and embraced him. His fingers traced a small line on your shoulder.

It must have been difficult for him to even comprehend how you could possibly not care. Not when all his life revolved around one scar on his face. He regained his voice after a while.

“I just hate that I gave them to you.”

“You act as if the line across your left ribs isn’t from one of my daggers. Do you resent me for it?”

“...No.” he admitted.

“Because you know I would never hurt you intentionally. Same for you with me.”

Maester Mellos indeed confirmed it was not a bad cut. Aemond insisted on sewing it himself anyway, always making sure the pain was bearable as you refused milk of the poppy for such a minor affliction. As with everything that Aemond did, he was very meticulous and precise. Nothing short of perfect. He had practice, after all.

Since Drifmark, Aemond refused to let anyone tend to his wounds but himself. You knew he resented Prince Lucerys for his eye, but the tension between families made him believe Lord Corly’s maester purposefully sewed the wound badly. The long jagged scar forever a bitter reminder of the cost of claiming the biggest dragon in the world.

Aemond insisted you rested for the rest of the day, which was ludicrous. You however agreed to go hide in the garden to read all day in the tall grass. He even stole candied plums from the kitchen for the occasion.

Five days before

Reader

Someone must have spied on you being improper because double the guards– the Queen’s guards–  suddenly followed you around. As you trained. As you walked in the garden. Even as you read in the library. 

It was not as much of a problem in the afternoon since it was the only time you spent apart and guards strangely left you alone. Aemond had his duties to the crown and his dragon to tend to. You still had lessons with your septa or you helped the realm by serving wine to a council made entirely out of rich men who appeared to care only for their own rich men’s needs. You thought they only came for the fine dornish wine you served, at one point. Still no news of your betrothed for a day, Luthor Tyrell, as well.

You spent time with Princess Helaena as well. More and more each day lately. She was in fact a very charming and helpful person. Aemond usually found you in her company when he fetched you later in the afternoons.

But the guards following you around were getting on his last nerve. That evening, in the library, they stood tall at the entrance. They looked away from you since, again, you were dressed very inappropriately, only sporting your blue silk nightgown adorned with pearls and silver beads as well as the necklace Aemond gave you long ago.

“100 gold dragons for each of you if you leave my betrothed and I alone until the wedding and not tell my mother.” Aemond snapped. The guards exchanged a quick look, bowed and left.

“They were only here to make sure we act properly before the wedding. I’m positively baffled you dismissed them. It is most improper. I’m afraid I’m a terrible influence, my prince.”

“I just want to be alone with you, like we always have been in here. Is it too much to ask? And I have to read these, as a matter of fact.” he complained, pointing at various scrolls and books in front of him. 

While he went through an impressive pile of scrolls, you read a book Halaena recommended to you and scribbled away on your papers. You had indeed something important to read too… but you were distracted.

So distracted.

You spied his fingers thrumming in a steady beat on the desk. His perfect hands grazed his parchment, letting it fall on the desk while he grabbed a quill to strike down a note. The pad of his index finger then wandered on the words of an ancient book, gliding smoothly across the paper. You felt yourself getting wetter and wetter as you imagined these fingers on you. Or in you.

Lost in your fantasies, you jumped when one of his fingers unexpectedly pointed at you.

“Why are you always looking at my hands?” inquired Aemond, his eye narrowing, ever the suspicious mind.

“What could you possibly mean?” you say, shifting in your seat, putting your quill down and opening a book on the fauna of Westeros’s southern lands. His eyes bored intensely into yours, a smirk on his lips.

…and your attention strayed again.

He stroked the binding of his book with the back of his hand. Then he traced idle figures on the cover. He pinched a corner and small veins popped out as his fingers flexed. 

“You say I not so subtly ogle at your bosom, but you staring at my hands this very moment is on the verge of being outrageous, my lady.”

“I won’t apologize,” you answered, standing up and closing your book. He stood too. What a proper gentleman, so well mannered. You walked around the desk and stopped before him. “You have beautiful hands.”

He watched studiously as you grabbed his right hand. You held it gently, caressing the back with your thumb. He mirrored you and you watched his veins and nerves come into sight as he flexed his thumb, caressing your palm in return.

“I think you lust after my hands,” he murmured.

You brought it to your lips and started kissing every knuckles… while your other hand grabbed the belt of your nightgown. “Mayhaps I do…”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. He looked down as you fumbled with your garment, then glanced around nervously, making sure there were no other witnesses.

Under his burning gaze, you slowly parted the silky fabric and revealed your naked form to him. You stopped kissing his fingers and brought them to your breasts. He squeezed the plump flesh instinctively. You sighed quietly.

Then you guided his hand down your torso. He exhaled loudly.

Next, you tugged his hand down to your belly. He felt goosebumps rising on your skin.

At last, you brought his fingers to your wet folds and he immediately pushed you backward until you were pinned against a bookshelf. You gasped as your back crashed against the old books and dust fell on you.

He captured your lips before you could make more noise. You gripped his broad shoulders while he pressed his whole body to yours. His fingers already going in and out of you, his thumb gently circled your twitching bud while you mewled in his ear.

He grabbed the hair at the nape of your neck and tugged it back to have better access. He kissed and licked your skin like a starved man while your hips rocked on their own. You ground into his hand, seeking more friction. He pushed down the heel of it and upped the speed, the wet sounds of your cunt echoing through the room.

His fingers were merciless as he took you higher and higher, savoring the sight of your face scrunched up in pleasure.

“Were you imagining my hands when you touched yourself at night?” he breathed arrogantly in your ear.

“Every time,” you panted. 

“Good,” he said. Then his eye darkened as he whispered in your open mouth: “I won’t stop until your legs shake.”

Oh gods.

He grabbed your neck and squeezed it gently to keep you in place. He felt your walls throbbing around his fingers, your slick soaking his hand and your thighs. You were close and Aemond held your gaze until your eyes rolled back in your head. Your muscles wound tighter and tighter until you cried out as your climax hit you like wildfire, burning through your veins and ravaging your every limbs.

You curled your fingers tight into his tunic and groaned helplessly against his chest. Your thighs clenched on his hand as though you were trapping it against your cunt. 

He fucked you through your orgasm with his fine fingers as you whole body convulsed uncontrollably. Face flushing, back arching, you braced yourself on his shoulder as you slowly came down from your high.

But he did not falter.

He kept going, ruthlessly pleasuring you and bringing you right back to the edge, your feverish moans music to his ears.

Keening in his tight embrace, you bit your bottom lip to stop you from wailing even louder when another climax hit you like a lightning strike. You were overwhelmed, kept mindless with ecstasy from his fingers still plunging into your cunt.

Aemond loved to see you come, whether it was on his hand, his tongue or his cock. Seeing you enjoy his body and praising his every move was what kept him going everytime. And he knew you could take it.

Amidst the euphoria, his lips crashed onto yours and coaxed fiery kisses from you. You writhed against his strong body, shuddering painfully and almost trying to twist yourself away as he drew yet another release out of you.

Barely breathing, practically weeping, the overstimulation left you a twitching mess when he finally slowed down his assault on your cunt.

When the pleasure finally faded, you collapsed on him, your body ridiculously limp. You felt him gently pulling his fingers out of your soaked core, and could not help the high-pitched sound that got drawn out of your mouth. He held you up in his arms while your whole body quivered still, kissing you everywhere on your face.

“How d’you like my hands just now, hm?” he asked pretentiously.

Unable to form complete sentences yet, you grabbed his prodigious hand and brought it to your lips as an answer. Astonished, he watched you lick his fingers clean before you kissed him so he could taste you on your lips.

“Your turn,” you hushed.

You grabbed his belt. You needed him in your mouth. You needed him now. You wanted to swallow all of him until his long shaft hit the back of your throat and—

« Prince Aemond?” a shaky voice resounded at the entrance of the library. You both froze into place, Aemond’s hands braced on the bookshelf while you were on your knees, fingers wrapped around his hard—

“I– I am here on your mother the Q—Queen’s behalf. You are needed in the c– council chamber.”

Clearly hearing you both panting, the poor valet waited in front of the door, eyes glued on the ceiling. You were mortified.

Aemond snarled when you let go of him. You stood up while he adjusted himself in his trousers as best as he could. He kissed your forehead before he left. You all but covered yourself and ran to your chambers, wholly embarrassed.

At least, when he joined you later that night, you picked up where you left off.

You were solicited more and more everyday regarding the upcoming wedding. Your dress was almost finished, decorations and tables were laid in the great hall, wedding gifts came in from every corner of the Seven Kingdoms. Yet something casted a shadow on the merriment.

You knew the lords, ladies, knights and servants of the court always addressed Aemond with the respect a prince is entitled to… but the snickers and the whispers always followed him everywhere. And now they followed you as well.

You were a curiosity. It was strange, considering they saw you together a thousand times before, since you were children. Yet every time you two appeared in public, whether at a feast or in the hallways, you heard the chatter. You heard the jeers. Had they nothing better to do?

One evening, you stopped to greet Lady Beesbury, one of the few ladies you actually enjoyed the company of. You asked how married life treated her. She replied quickly, her gaze darting to Aemond constantly. She left before you could ask any more questions. Aemond pulled your arm and encouraged you to keep walking.

Not quickly enough, for you had time to hear another lady whisper: “Why him? Do you think she’s with child? Poor girl.”

You were astounded. The allegations against your virtue did not bother you in the least, but that being betrothed to Aemond inspired pity? Absolutely preposterous. No one could ever make you feel bad about your betrothed. Furthermore, your dresses were so tight to begin with, where could you possibly be hiding a pregnant belly?

You diffused the tension by addressing Lady Beesbury’s behavior. “Does she think I’m too important for her now that we are betrothed?”

“She was afraid of me. She wanted to get away,” Aemond said quietly, his face unreadable. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you ever apologize for simply being you. She is a bad mannered cunt. How could people act like that around you?” you retorted, outraged at her behavior.

“I’m used to it.” he answered, and it hurt to hear.

“Well they can go fuck themselves on spikes at the front gate, for all I care.” you muttered under your breath. He hummed when you expected a chuckle. He usually enjoyed it when you swore like a bravosi sealord.

Aemond

You walked in the gardens, fleeing the people. Aemond did not fear many things in life, but this, this whole interaction, was exactly what scared him the most. You told him that you did not care about the court gossip, the looks, the fake conversations. But in all seriousness, how could you not care?

“Why him? Do you think she’s with child? Poor girl.” one of the ladies had uttered to another. Aemond hoped with all his heart you did not hear that. 

All these people made his life so miserable for years. How could you possibly want to share the burden? To be a target just as much as him? Aemond had agreed to let you in, to let go of his apprehensions and just give in to you. Yet a snarky voice in his head kept saying:

She could change her mind.

It was why he insisted on having the wedding ceremony a fortnight later. At least, it prevented too many people from attending the festivities. Less chances of having second thoughts.

Some part of him flinched at how dishonest it sounded. Like he was tricking you into marriage. But he never wished for something so ardently before in his life. Well, possibly as much as wished for a dragon.

It is not like he was ever worthy of you. A prince, sure he was, but merely a second son with no hope of ever reaching the throne. Or any throne, for that matter. Aegon would get the Hightower family seat with Daeron at his side. Helaena would go wherever the most advantageous marriage would provide her with a castle. Aemond would be left with being a war commander, mayhaps. Probably.

Moreover, he was a damn cripple.

At least, you assured him you did not mind the scars he gave you. The shock when he first saw them at the inn, dozens of small little cuts scattered out across your perfect silky skin. He loathed himself for days after that. And you miraculously held no grudges. How? It seemed so simple.

You both skipped the library and spent the night flying around the city on Vaghar instead. Away from the crowds, he let you ride in front of him this time, his hands roaming freely.

The peace was short however, for that was the moment everything turned into a mess.

A day before

Reader

Your wedding celebrations consisted of a series of events on a two day span. First, a tourney in your honor, then a feast to celebrate the winner. On the second day was the actual ceremony in the eyes of the Seven at the Great Sept of Baelor and a wedding feast. 

To everyone’s surprise, large banners flaunting the Tyrell sigil arrived in Kings Landing that morning. Luthor Tyrell and his entourage showed up for the festivities.

The first things he requested upon his arrival were water for his horse and a private audience with you.

Unluckily, you were already at the jousting grounds. Your family had arrived the day prior, and you wanted to spend time with them.

From Dragonstone came Princess Rhaenyra, Prince Daemon and all of Aemond’s nephews and nieces. But most importantly, with them came your brother Harwin.

As the eldest son and heir of House Strong, he represented your family in the tourney and you had to make him promise not to die hours before your wedding. In no way did you doubt his abilities, but he was your dear brother and you missed him terribly already. 

Aemond followed you around but kept relatively quiet. None of them felt comfortable enough to talk extensively if you were not the one driving the conversation. Harwin tried to be the bigger person and asked your prince about his sword masterful crafting. Aemond praised the castle’s blacksmith and complimented your brother’s armor. You had no expectations to begin with, but the small conversation filled you with hope. Aemond certainly tried hard for you.

It almost made you forget how much you hated tourneys. First, women were not allowed to enter. Since you were better than some of the men participating, you thought it was profoundly ridiculous. Secondly, men died in gruesome ways in these tourneys. But mostly, it lasted hours. 

This tourney, however, was held in your honor. For once, your betrothed was celebrated rather than feared. He proudly sat beside you in the royal dais, along both of your families. Everyone looked at you and you felt a little intimidated. You watched as every participant stood in line and bowed. First, there would be sword fighting. Harwin would compete in this portion.

Your father leaned between Aemond and you and said “The first lord on the left is Luthor Tyrell. He arrived unannounced earlier this morning.”

Aemond hummed and stared at him. Studied him. Dissected his every move.

Luthor Tyrell beat every lord that came his way. He was truly impressive, even if you noted some weaknesses. He did not guard his left side enough, he underestimated smaller opponents and took a couple blows in the ribs. Ultimately, your brother Harwin all but smashed his shield in half and pinned him down in the dirt. Bested, Luthor yielded and Harwin won. Aemond smirked at the sight and, to your surprise, applauded your brother. 

Then the joust followed.

You finally had a closer look at your former betrothed. He was indeed a handsome young man, a couple years older than you at least. He was tall. He had tousled light brown hair, pale blue eyes and perfect teeth. He looked exactly like you imagined. You knew why your father chose him in the first place. He was the perfect young lord and heir of the Reach.

And he was approaching you, tall on his white horse, holding a lance.

“Your graces,” he beamed, bowing to the royal family. “My lady Strong, let me introduce myself. Sir Luthor Tyrell. I now see that you are indeed the fair maiden my father described you to be. I come to ask for your favor. It would be a small kindness since our betrothal fell through, don’t you agree my lady?” 

The whole crowd seemed to go wild with chatter. Aemond, quietly seething by your side, was astonished by the man’s audacity. As much as you did not want to give it to him, withholding your favor is considered extremely rude. Ladies of the court are basically forced to give them to whoever dares ask.

You stood up, grabbed your small wreath of blue ribbons and let it fall down his lance. He thanked you and went to stand on the left side of the jousting grounds.

“Cunt.” Aemond uttered hoarsely. You tittered, grabbing his hand.

The crowd fervently cheered and cheered as Luthor won every round. He had perfect technique. To Aemond’s displeasure, he knocked the last knight to the ground, and won the tourney.

Luthor bowed as Aemond handed him a dragon shaped trophy made out of pure gold. When you congratulated him, he turned to you.

“It was indisputably your favors that got me through this tournament, my lady Strong. Faith knows best, as I often say.” he bowed and kissed your hand under Aemond's watchful eye.

You could not quite put your finger on it, but every time that man opened his mouth, something felt odd.

Soon enough, everybody gathered in the great hall for the feast. Aemond usually loathed these kinds of events but attended anyway, for his family’s sake and yours. He made small talk with lords and ladies but you knew he hated every second of it. Especially since the talk of the town was your former betrothed showing up and winning the tourney held in your honor. The very feast you attended now celebrated his victory.

You made it your mission to distract Aemond all night. Your hands would wander when you danced. You would whisper filthy promises involving your wedding night. You ate fruits in a suggestive manner when no one but him looked.

“Behave, y/n.” he murmured, sliding his hand to your inner thigh under the table. “Or I’ll make you.”

His “threats” usually did nothing to calm you down, though. All was well… that is, until Luthor Tyrell approached the royal table and went straight to you.

“Your graces,” he enthused, addressing the most important people in the Seven Kingdoms before his eyes fell on you again. “May I offer my congratulations on your imminent union. Our paths unfortunately crossed briefly in the grand scheme of things, but would you consider giving one dance to a poor jilted lord, my lady?”

You felt Aemond stiffen beside you. He stared at you, curious to see if you were considering it. Even if you were betrothed to a prince, you had to accept. Now was not the time to ruin political alliances over a dance. As much as he hated it, Aemond knew that. You squeezed his hand still gripping your inner thigh, asking him to let go of you. He did, reluctantly.

Unsurprisingly, Luthor Tyrell was a fine dancer. The man really was perfect. He smiled and greeted every lord who crossed your path and complimented you on everything, from your dress to the flowers in your hair. Then he asked about your family’s well being. Your lands, your court. He talked of how much of a catch you were.

You knew you had a substantial dowry, but you had no claim to anything else. Luthor went on, praising how Harrenhall was the only castle that matched his equally grand castle at Highgarden.

You started to feel unsure about where this conversation was going.

“Highgarden sounds wonderful, my lord.” you commented casually.

“It is. Certainly better than King’s Landing, if I may say so… The only thing it is missing is a lady, actually.”, he flirted, startling you. “Lady Strong, I hope you will forgive my boldness, but I cannot simply watch you wasting away your life chained to this court.”

“I beg your pardon, my lord?”

Shocked was the word.

“What does the prince have to offer you? I would give you the Reach, my lady. I’m an heir to my father’s title. I’m offering you a comfortable life in a better castle with extensive gardens, lands stretching to deep turquoise waters, armies to keep you safe from our enemies. I’m offering myself to you as well. I’m a skilled warrior, obviously, but also a dancer, a poet and a musician. Furthermore, I’m told I’m unmatched when it comes to… pleasuring a lady.” he bragged shamelessly, his hand pressing the small of your waist.

You felt sick to your stomach. “This is how you court ladies, Lord Tyrell? On the eve of their wedding, talking about the women you bedded before?”

“I’m sure the prince can be a charming person despite his… interesting appearance, but you shouldn’t throw your beauty and life away for a man like that. I have it all. Wealth, a castle, lands… eyes.”

And there it was. A beautiful face hiding the most disgusting man you had ever had the displeasure of encountering.

Pulling away, you declared: “I’m not quite well, my lord, please excuse me.” You could not bear to spend one second more in company of this horrible excuse of a man.

“The song is not finished my lady, it would be rude to leave.” he urged with a big smile but a menacing tone.

From the beginning, this man used bigoted social conventions to coax you into giving him your favor at the tourney, dancing with him at this ball and now holding you hostage until the musicians ended their song.

Well, fuck courtesy. To the seven hells with propriety. Abandoning him in front of the whole court seemed like the perfect thing to do.

You pulled away again, but he grabbed your arm and forced you to stay with him. 

Your reflexes from all your hand-to-hand combat lessons with Aemond kicked in and in one swift move, you were the one holding his arm at an odd angle. In your other hand, you held your dagger retrieved from your sleeve, pointing right at his left ribs. You had ample time to observe his weaknesses at the tourney, after all.

“You’ve come here under false pretenses, my lord. Leave for the Reach at first light and my father will never know the treasonous words you spoke here today or the real motive of your visit.” you threatened. He squirmed and you pushed your dagger a little more into his tunic, almost cutting through it. “That is all you will ever get from me. And from what I gather, you do not deserve this kindness.”

He stepped away from you and brushed his clothes with the back of his hand. He put on a smile. A smile you now knew was fake. Reeking of malignance, his last words were quiet so only you could hear them. “Enjoy being a cripple’s whore.”

And he left. 

So perfect, so charming, you thought. And you almost married that perfidious swine, for gods’ sake.

You went to stand close to Aemond on the outskirts of the hall, seeking his ever calm and collected nature. By some miracle, he did not witness this mess. You knew that if he had, Luthor Tyrell would be a fuming pile of ashes by now. He deserved it, to be fair.

No, Aemond was simply exchanging some words with his older brother, already drunk on ale and wine.

You hooked your arm in his and rested your cheek against his shoulder, his warmth comforting you. You observed the lord and ladies dance, letting the merry mood seeping into you again, determined not to let an insignificant man’s words ruin your night.

You tugged on Aemond’s arm so he would turn to you, and you played your little game one last time. Being sneaky was no longer necessary, you thought.

You reached for his neck, tilted your head and kissed him quickly, in the middle of the great hall.  Surprised, he looked around at all the people watching. You almost regretted it, remembering all too late how he hated being the center of attention… But he kissed you back regardless. He even lingered a bit longer before returning to his conversation with Prince Aegon.

It definitely cheered you up… for a time.

Shortly after this joyful moment, you overheard a conversation coming from the other side of the pillar beside you.

“Luthor Tyrell is so handsome. She turned him down for the one-eyed prince, can you believe it?” a lady blurted, and your eyes could not have rolled harder. 

“The prince has no prospect, at least 10 people have to die for him to be on the throne. What a twat she is.” another lady added as you choke on your wine.

Aemond got somewhat used to the same comments throughout the years. But never had you heard things so mean said about you in such a short time.

“He scares me, frankly. Imagine him hovering over you in bed. So up close. Ugh, I couldn’t bear it.”

“I could ask my maid.” a third lady confided. “I know the prince seeks her out for a good fuck from time to time.”

“She would have been better off with one of the crowned princes.”

“She can’t marry one of them. They are her nephews!”

“Shhh, quiet! People have lost their head for saying that.”

Again, people slandered your brother, questioned his honor and speculated about him being the true father of the crown princes.

You realized Aemond was not talking with Prince Aegon anymore and listened to the same horrible conversation as you. He yanked on your arm and hauled you into the hallway before you could unleash your wrath on them.

You went to a balcony and breathed in the fresh air coming from the coast. It was a cloudless night again and the stars shined bright. The silence felt good. 

You observed a bunch of lords walk drunkenly in the gardens only to stop in front of the pond to relieve themselves. These are the fine men presiding over this kingdom, you thought. Very distinguished, You thought. You promised yourself to never again fantasize about Aemond taking you amidst the beautiful water lilies. 

“She had a point.” Aemond conceded, recalling the frightful gossip you heard. 

“That was the most idiotic and insensitive conversation I’ve ever had the displeasure of eavesdropping.”

“Luthor Tyrell has everything. I have nothing to give you.” he uttered, sincerely.

“I have never heard so much nonsense. You have the biggest dragon in the fucking world, Aemond. Not that it matters anyway. You are enough. When have I asked for anything more?”

He opened his mouth but then pressed his lips in a thin line.

Now was not the time to be bereft of speech. “What is it?” you coaxed.

“This is what I meant… the mockery.”

“I can take it. I told you, I’m a strong lady.” you tried to jest, but it came out too abrasive.

“Your eyes are glassy.” Aemond stated.

“Yes, because the words were harsh, it caught me off guard!”

“It will never stop. I don’t want to see you tormented all the time.”

“I won’t have this conversation again.” you finished, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Aemond went mute once more, but you were used to it by now. Difficult conversation usually ended up in silence on his part, anyway. He always tiptoed around you, carefully choosing his words not to upset you. Admirable, yes, but insufferable sometimes. “My apologies, I didn't mean to sound harsh.” you spoke softly.

He hummed.

You went back to the ball and joined the royal family. The Queen and Princess Rhaenyra spoke with the King and Prince Daemon. Their children were dancing and enjoying their night. 

Words from the ladies of the court about the crowned princes still floated around in your mind, though. It had for years, if you were honest with yourself. This is when you looked… Really looked…You watched… you observed… and finally…

…you believed it.

Aemond

The night was a disaster. After you went back to stand at the head of the royal table, Aemond noticed how quiet you were. And you were never quiet. Your eyes were locked on your brother. He drank wine and exchanged pleasantries with Jacaerys and Lucerys as young Joffrey looked bored. That is when you murmured to him: 

“You were right…”

“As I so often am,” Aemond jested, trying to lighten the mood. “But what are you talking about, my love?”

You inhaled deeply. “They look like my brother… They look like me.”

“Y/n— »

“They took your eye for that, and you were speaking the truth. I’m so sorry, Aemond.”

He held you in his arms and felt somewhat conflicted. Years had passed, but one thing had remained. You were adamant in defending your brother. He could not blame you, he would have done the same for any of his siblings, even Aegon. Yet seeing you acknowledging the truth he dared spoke about his nephews– and cost him an eye– did not give him the satisfaction he thought he would get out of it. You fully believed him now, but the revelation was disconcerting nonetheless. You obviously felt guilty.

You asked to retire to your chambers. Half of the royal family had already left, anyway.

It was the only night Aemond had to sleep without you by his side. It was bad luck, his mother claimed. He kissed you goodnight after he walked you to your door.

But as he walked to his own chambers, he promptly turned around and went right back to you. He knew that tonight of all nights, you needed comfort. He needed to make sure you were alright. He needed to know if you were okay after your revelation about your brother… He needed to be certain the gossip did not affect you that much… He needed to be sure that Luthor Tyrell was not a threat with his perfect smile and all that.

He could not chase away the thought of you not showing up the following day, leaving him completely humiliated at the altar in the Great Sept of Baelor. 

He knew you would never do this to him, but he thought about it nevertheless. The voice in his head repeated the vile words again. She could change her mind.

And here you were…

Aemond

You stood in front of him, wearing a hood and taking off like a thief in the night.

Aemond scrambled for his words, but you would listen to what he had to say, even if it resulted in you leaving him. “I knew it would be hard for you. I knew that people would be cruel and I warned you. But you convinced me that you didn’t care. You said that they could go fuck themselves on spikes at the front gate.”

You chuckled, but it only added to Aemond’s heartbreak.

“You promised me. You said that you wanted me. I told you I was yours. You promised.” he scowled.

He tried to say more but words would not come out. And he knew how you hated it when he kept silent but he feared he was about to say things he did not mean. Angry words cost him an eye once. 

“You are everything to me. You are the strength I need to go on about my day. You are the courage I aspire to with your bold words and actions. You are the wisdom I seek when people of the court get on my last nerve… And the ladies were right. ‘Tis true. I don’t have a castle of my own. I don’t have lands. I don’t have armies or even a court that loves me. My father is King yet I don’t believe he ever cared enough about me to give me any of that. I have nothing to offer you but my complete devotion, but it is not enough, is it?”

By the time he finished, silent tears were falling down your cheeks.

“…You really think I’m leaving, don’t you?” you bemoaned.

The world stopped. He was still angry but his eye narrowed at you. “...are you not?”

“Seven fucking hells, Aemond,” you swore, wiping the tears off of your cheeks.

Aemond never felt so confused. Your words somewhat reassured him, but he needed confirmation in plain words regardless. “Just answer me. Are you leaving?”

Reader

“No, I’m not leaving!” You huffed, and you saw his shoulders relax, relieved from whatever was going on inside his head. You could not believe it. He still doubted you.

One of his hands fiddled at the lapels of your hood, silently asking what it was for. Well, at least, he saved you the trip to his chambers.

“We are leaving, actually.”

The clarity Aemond got for half a second was smothered into confusion again. You handed him a hood, took his hand and lured him to a hidden door on the back wall of your chambers. 

He followed you in dark corridors littered with dirt and dead rat carcasses. You emerged behind a tapestry somewhere in the west wing. “Do you mean to tell me I’ve been bribing the guards for the last two weeks when there was a door leading straight to your bed?”

“I didn’t know. My brother told me about it only yesterday.” Your chambers were Princess Rhaenyra’s, before she left for Dragonstone. Of course your brother would know of this passage, but Aemond refrained from commenting on it and you appreciated that.

You lead him through the mudgate. “Want to leave on an adventure at this hour? Are we eloping, my lady?” he asked, following you diligently all the way to the beach, near Vaghar’s nest.

He saw dragon keepers guarding her and a small gathering of people beside a fire. Instinctively, Aemond reached for his sword but you grabbed his hand before he could draw it.

Slowly he recognized some faces. Healena was there. Your brother Harwin too. You were sure that at this moment, Aemond’s mind was racing as he imagined a hundred wild scenarios involving his dear sister being secretly in love with the man too. The last man, Aemond did not know.

“Your grace, my lady.” he rejoiced, bowing.

You let go of his hand and took off your hood. He watched you grab the necklace in one of the pockets and put it on. Tendrils of your hair blew everywhere with the sea wind, almost like the flames of the grand fire burning beside you.

You reached again in your pockets and grabbed a crumpled paper… and a small blade of dragonglass.

It dawned on Aemond that…you were never running away.

This was a Valyrian wedding.

You beamed at him. He was silent but not by fear. He was truly and utterly in shock.

“I wouldn't have changed my mind. Not ever.” You said. “We would have waited a fortnight, two moons or twelve, that I wouldn’t have changed my mind. I want you. And you are enough. Take off your hood.”

“If you would please take place, facing each other, we will begin.”

Aemond appeared weary. You, on the other hand, had the brightest smile he had ever seen. He watched as you glanced down at the piece of paper and tried your best. “Aemond… konīr issi daor isse iā Valyrīha dīn— dīnil— dīnilūks. Nyke sepār jeldan na— naejot urnēptre hen mirrī angotan.” you stammered. There are no vows in a Valyrian ceremony. I just wanted to show off a little bit.

His eye was the widest you had ever seen. He stared at you as if you were a goddess and you felt how much he loved you at this very moment.

“Avy jorrā— jorrāelan, se kesan sagon on— ondoso aōha paktot ēva aōha mōrī tubis”. I love you, and I will be by your side until your last day. “Well I hope that made sense, because it is all I could learn in a fortnight.”

Helaena clapped enthusiastically behind you. When you asked for her help, she spent every afternoon teaching you the basics before Aemond came to fetch you. She even gave you small assignments to do later in the library. For once, your septa approved of your doings. 

You kept your eyes on him. He was still silent, but you knew it was because he was overwhelmed. He kept blinking, his eye getting red with emotion.

He reached for his eye patch and took it off, baring himself in front of you and the others. That in itself, meant the world to you.

You took the dragonglass and brought it slowly to his lip. You waited for some kind of reaction. It was the part you feared the most. Aemond had enough blades cutting his face for a lifetime and beyond. He nodded and you made a small cut in the middle of his bottom lip. Still looking at you, he frowned when you put the blade in his hand and waited for him to do the same to you.

“It’s okay,” you mouthed quietly. He raised his hand and made the smallest cut he could possibly make on your lower lip. Even if you were okay with the scars everywhere on your body, he obviously did not wish to add more.

You both traced the Valyrian symbols on your forehead. Aemond only looked away when he cut the palm of his hand and let you do the same.

He could not believe you were doing this. Just for him. He felt foolish for ever believing you would leave.

Holding each other's bloody hand, the priest went on with his ancient text. You could not decipher a single word for your life, but you knew the gist of it. When the priest stopped and backed off from the makeshift altar made of random rocks on the beach, you jumped forward, grabbed Aemond by the neck, and brought your lips to his in a fiery, bloody kiss. He circled his arms around you immediately and you felt his hands fondling your back and waist.

“I love you,” he whispered into your ear. “Avy jorrāelan,” you answered back. “That was an easy one. It was about time I learned the language.”

After the secret ceremony, Aemond brought you to his chambers for the first time. He had already bribed the guards anyway. For once, you would be the one sneaking away to your chambers before sunrise. Or not, since you were legally lord husband and lady wife. In the old fate, anyway. 

As soon as you entered, you inhaled profoundly. The whole room smelled of him, of his wonderful amber and sandalwood scent. An oil for his hair, apparently. You spied the bottle beside his looking glass.

There was a simple luxury to his chambers. A fire already burned brightly in the hearth. Gold details, flowy red curtains flanking his windows, shelves and shelves of books and a large wooden canopy bed covered in pillows and blankets.

He stripped down from his hood, sword and knife but your attention drifted elsewhere. You noticed something familiar. You went to his bed to have a better look at the torn piece of white linen fabric dangling from his headboard. It had little flowers embroidered on it.

“Is that…?” “Yes. I kept it.” he confessed as you recognized the remains of your white shift. The one you thought he threw in the fire at the inn. “It smelled like you.” he explained, coming up to stand behind you.

He grabbed a strap from your dress and tugged it, the fabric making a small hesitating sound and you grabbed his hand immediately.

“Aemond Targaryen, if you rip my Valyrian wedding dress, I swear to the old gods and the new—” He chuckled, but then delicately slid the straps down your shoulders. The dress fell down to the floor and pooled at your feet. You wore nothing underneath.

Towering over you, he guided you to his bed but you raised a hand to stop him.

“Hm hm, no. Take off your clothes first.” you demanded. Surprised, he smirked but agreed to your demand.

You were bold and daring in your everyday life, but when it came to your intimacy, you usually let Aemond have it his way. You loved surrendering all control and let him ravish you thoroughly, but that was not your plan for the night.

He would have the wedding night. You, however, would have this night.

While he unclasped his dark leathered tunic, you threw the pillows and blankets in front of the fire. Aemond kept undressing as you made a cozy little bed on the floor. 

When you turned around, Aemond waited for you, stark naked, his manhood already hard, screaming to be taken care of by you. He approached you again, but you stopped him once more.

“No. This is my night.” you said. “Let me.”

You went to him, angled your head and captured his lips in one searing kiss. He hummed into your mouth while your hands freed his hair that was still tied at the back of his head.

“What? I can’t touch my wife?”

Now that formal title, he would use without jesting. You would insist on it.

His hands found your waist and you let him caress your shivering skin while you made him walk backwards to the makeshift mattress you built out of blankets.

He laid down slowly, looking up at you like you were a goddess. The fire crackled soundly in the stone fireplace, heating both your bodies. You straddled him, caressing his chest and relishing in the sight of him under you. His fingers thrummed on your thighs and you were distracted for a moment. He looked at you with a malicious smile. Damn him and his hands.

“No touching, husband. Not until you listen to me”

“Hm?”

He was aroused and confused, his cock keenly digging into your lower stomach. Unfortunately for him, you would make him wait a little more. 

You desperately wanted to lay down on him. You wanted to feel his whole body under yours. You wanted to kiss him passionately while you rocked your hips. But what you wanted the most tonight, was to worship him. Aemond thought you were leaving him. He thought you would change your mind. He thought he was not enough.

You would prove him wrong.

You dragged him to a Valyrian wedding, for gods’ sake. The ceremony was secretly planned since you got back from the Stormlands. Your brother Harwin came from Dragonstone with the priest, even. You studied High Valyrian everyday, only practicing speech when tucked far away in the gardens with Princess Helaena.

“Nothing would have changed my mind, Aemond.”

You locked eyes for a moment. His gaze was burning, his eye darkening by the minute. He refrained from moving except for his damn fingers tracing idle figures on your thighs.

“I know that now.” he answered, trying to avoid the conversation by flexing his fingers on your legs and diverting your attention. He knew you well.

“If I have to tell you one more time that I’m serious when I say that I want you, Aemond Targaryen… I married you tonight, have I not?”

He nodded solemnly and you laid down on his chest to kiss him again. His lips were hot and soft, and he flinched as the small cut you made there cracked open. Your tongue flickered against his, slipping between his lips and tasting him eagerly. Your arms circled his head and tugged at the tie holding back his hair. It was wavy from the humid coastal air on the beach. You loved when that happened.

He rocked his hips into yours instinctively, but you stopped kissing him immediately. You shook your head. He nodded, understanding your silent demand.

Then you got off of him and he protested loudly.

“Where are you goin—” he began… except when he saw you pulling all your hair in a bunch with his hair tie, he kept silent again. That temper of his, sometimes.

He subtly moved one of his hands so it stayed limply against your leg. Like you would not notice him desperately trying to touch you. 

You kneeled between his legs, braced yourself on his hips and kissed the tip of his cock. He gasped and closed his eye. You ran your tongue across the slit and his head instantly fell back into a pillow. 

You rolled your tongue over his tip and sucked every drop of his seed that already pooled there. He hissed, fisting the blankets already.

You licked from the base and he throbbed against your tongue. Then he cursed as you took all of him in your mouth at once.

His tip bumped against the back of your throat. You tried your best not to gag as tears formed in the corners of your eyes. He raised his head to watch you. Not breaking eye contact, you bobbed your head up and down his shaft. He groaned every time the tip brushed the velvety walls of your throat. 

You rubbed your thighs together, seeking any kind of friction to ease the pressure building in you. You circled your clit with one of your hands, even if it was still sore from the fresh cut during the ceremony. You moaned loudly and the vibrations had him whimpering.

His balls tightened, and release gathered in his spine. His hands went instinctively to your head, his fingers rummaging through your hair, pulling it when you swiftly quickened your pace. He shivered and you knew he was utterly at your mercy. He cried out and his grip tightened on your neck, forcing you to stop your sweet torture.

“This is a wedding night. If I come, it is between your legs, not in your mouth. Come here.” he demanded angrily, sitting and trying to grab you.

“No. You have done enough.” you stopped him, using his own words against him. You all but repeated what he told you at the inn during the storm. “You have been insufferable, my prince.”

You pushed him flat on his back without preamble, settled your hips over his, and slowly sank down onto his length. Inch by inch, your cunt swallowed him whole.

Eye wide, a plethora of curses fell from his mouth. He grabbed your hips to hold you still while you braced yourself on his chest, wincing a bit from the pain in your right hand’s palm. You panted already, the coil in your belly almost hurting, begging for release. But you looked him in the eye and made sure he understood you. 

“You. Thought. I. Was. Leaving.” you said, rocking your hips with each of your words for emphasis. You ride him hard, taking no prisoners. Mayhaps it was the position, but you swore you never felt him this deep before. His mouth fell open at the overwhelming feeling and he growled.

“You. Are. Enough.” you sighed as his cock brushed your sweet spot repeatedly, his pelvis brushing against your clit as well. You arched your back, already feeling pleasure taking over you.

For a moment, neither of you uttered a single word. You noticed how the bandage around your hand came undone and how you smeared blood all over his chest.

Well, fire and blood, was it not?

His jaw clenched so tight his teeth grinded, his face scrunched as he neared his release. You were on the edge too but your leg muscles slowly gave out, screaming for mercy. Your rhythm faltered and you cursed yourself for skipping leg training during your hand-to-hand combat lessons. Your movement almost came to a halt when he decided to be an arsehole.

“You thought it would be easy to ride a dragon, my love?” he queried arrogantly.

Affronted, you tried to shut him up with a sharp thrust but your calves were no longer cooperating.

“Come here!” Aemond asked again, yanking on your arms so you end up splayed on his chest.

His arms crossed at your back to keep you in place. He looked into your loving eyes and you felt the air leaving your lungs as he began fucking up into you with strong, heavy thrusts. His embrace tightened more as you squirmed on his chest. He instilled a ferocious pace and you cried out as he took the lead, having you mewling in no time.

His hard cock slid against your sensitive wall, making your toes curl and legs quiver. Rubbing your plump breasts up against his chest, you circled his head with your arms, caging him in as your fingers were lost in a sea of silvery white hair.

His muscled arms were like iron around you. Your shaky legs tensed even more and squeezed around his hips while you praised him in his ear.

You did not mind if the whole castle heard you. You moaned as loud as you needed to while he kept thudding that perfect spot deep inside you. Every touch inflamed your very nerves and sparked pleasure through your every limbs.

He was already on edge before you took him inside you, so you noticed the signs of him starting to fall apart. You felt his heart beating wildly against yours, you felt his leg twitch despite the punishing rhythm of his hips having all your attention. Sweat pearled at his temples, tracking down his face and you did not hesitate to lick it all up.

“Don’t just hold me, touch me!” you begged.

“But you said not to, my love,” he teased you and you cursed his whole Targaryen ancestry. Vindictive prick.

“I said touch me!” You insisted, voluntarily contracting your inner muscles to squeeze him so hard he yelped loudly and saw stars momentarily.

One of his hands went to caress every inch of your back, sides and trembling thighs. He captured your lips and muffled your sobs as he battered into you still, gritting his teeth as you held on for dear life. 

“Please!,” you pleaded, trying to pry yourself from his strong embrace, your body starting to spasm as you cried out with every thrust now. «Aemond!»

“I don’t want you begging, I want you screaming.”

Then the feeling started in your toes, burned through your thighs, your belly and your chest until your whole body combusted. You shivered and wailed as you reached your high, almost alarmed at the sheer force it hit you. Hot spasms of pleasure wracked through you, burning you up like wildfire, until your vision blacked out. You screamed his name, your whole body convulsing and shivering.

You collapsed on his chest and felt him kissing your neck. You whined as he rutted into you right through the remainder of your climax, slamming over and over again in your tightness, so tight he almost could not fill you anymore. You clenched around him like a vice, your walls gripping his cock so hard he believed you would swallow him. 

He felt you pulsed and it was too much for him. His release had his whole body shuddering violently, muscles seizing up. His grip tightened even more and you knew you would have bruises all over your back and hips in the morning.

He buried his face in your neck, bellowing as he cummed hard. Warmth spread through your belly as he spilled into you, filling you deep, dripping out of you already.

You ground yourself into him, his twitching cock stroking your walls again, wishing to give him a taste of his own overstimulating ways. He whimpered, his face twisting in agonized pleasure, his hands darting to your hips, desperately trying to stop you from moving but you kept going. Four more thrusts and you went over the edge a second time. 

Eyes closed, you slowly caught your breath. He kissed your neck and bit your ear. You moaned softly as he slid out of you. You still flinched and twitched as your nerves slowly settled down.

When you hoisted yourself up, you noticed the blood smears on his chest. In his hair too. On your bosom and hips as well. You could only imagine what your back looked like. 

Both of your hands bled through the cloth covering them. You were not particularly fond of blood, but with the fire raging beside you, you thought the consummation of this Valyrian union could not have been any better.

“Husband,” you murmured.

“Wife,” he whispered back, smiling, looking at you like if you were a true Targaryen.

That night, you made love again. And again. And again.

Your absence at breakfast was noted. To say the Queen was shocked when she found you was an understatement. You were both naked and asleep in a bloodied mess of blankets and cushions in front of the fireplace. Visibly embarrassed, she looked away as you covered yourself.

She did not approve of you eloping and getting married in a faith that was not her own but understood nonetheless. At least, your virtue would never be questioned now, you thought to yourself, almost laughing.

She convinced you to clean up, get dressed and immediately go to your maids. The ceremony at the Great Sept of Baelor was mere hours away.

“I’ll fetch gloves to hide your hands.” she added, before she left Aemond’s chamber.

You were exhausted but there was indeed another ceremony to attend, another feast to endure and a private bedding to have– you both insisted on that one– in the eyes of the Seven, this time. 

At long last, you were lord husband and lady wife.

But that was not all…

Your brother Harwin chose this moment to announce he gave up his title to stay as Lord Commander of Princess Rhaenyra on Dragonstone. Your father thought it was madness but it was Prince Daemon who had asked. There was apparently an understanding between the two men. Ultimately, your father agreed. You understood his reluctance. He spent his life grooming his eldest son to take his rightful place when the time came to it…

But so did he with you.

Your scholar of a father knew the importance of giving both his sons and daughter a thorough education. 

He had you read books from a young age so you were knowledgeable and wise. He had you training in the yard with the boys so you would learn combat, strategy and to defend yourself without any man’s help. He had you live in King's Landing since you were ten of age so you would learn to navigate through high society…And he had you play cupbearer during council meetings so you would know what running a castle– even a kingdom–  entailed.

Suddenly, you were the lady of Harrenhall.

Aemond Targaryen indeed had no castle of his own, no lands and no armies. So when all three came to you, you shared it all with him.

Before the moon turned, and without a second thought, Aemond packed his possessions and left the Red Keep with you on Vaghar’s back. He never looked back, for nobody at Harrenhal would dare speak ill of their Lady and her prince husband.

To your utmost delight, nothing really had to change. You could still train in the morning. You could still do your duties in the afternoon. And you could still spend your evenings in the library. It was your own small realm, with your own rules.

Aemond quickly found solace in his new life and even felt comfortable enough to discard his eye patch once and for all. One evening, you both sat on your balcony, one of Aemond’s hands splayed on your now swelling belly, and you admired the sunset above the calm waters of the Gods Eye. You silently enjoyed the peace and quiet.

You looked at him and with the brightest of smiles, you thought…

I can’t wait to give him the happy life he so deserves.

NEXT: Part 3 (Striving) or see is my Masterlist.

Thank you for reading!

The ending made me cry, not gonna lie. This is how I chose to fix Aemond’s tragic story. This is me trying to fix everything after I read the book lol

What a ride. I did not expect to write nearly 30k words total but hey. I needed it I guess. Poor Alicent, she can’t get a break. Always walking in on her sons being naked and improper 😂 Reader is a strong and daring lady so I injected a bit more girl power in this part. She even kidnapped him into marriage! And invited Vaghar to the ceremony even, what a sweetheart ❤️

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader smut #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x fem!oc #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond x reader smut #aemond smut #aemond fanfic #aemond imagine #aemond one eye x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #house of the dragon #hotd

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Hugs for a Vampire (Astarion x GN!Reader) - Chapter 4: After Encountering Araj

Chapter 4: After Encountering Araj

Each chapter can be read as a standalone hug.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Rogue!Tav)

Genre: Fluffy, Filling in Canon

Rating: Teen

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Act 2, Canon-typical violence, cw: Astarion's past, Feelings Realization

WC: 3k words, 4/18 chapters

Summary: Set in Act 2 after infiltrating Moonrise and meeting Araj, a retelling of the Act 2 romance with some extra dialogue. The canon-hug!

Ao3 | [Hug3][Hug5] | Hugs for a Vampire Masterlist

Your team is tired. It’s been several days of travel through the Cursed Shadowlands, and you, for one, can’t wait for this damned curse to be lifted. You’ve done all you can with Halsin’s help, all that’s left is to defeat Ketheric. The man’s demise can’t come swiftly enough, especially after you had the absolute honor of meeting him yesterday.

Infiltrating Moonrise Towers was surprisingly easy for your group. You simply said you belonged there and everyone seemed to trust you, all because of the worm that takes residence in your skull. It probably helped that it was a short visit: free some prisoners, meet Ketheric, scope out the location, run into a slew of its inhabitants and leave as soon as you get the information you need.

There were a few moments of awkwardness in your adventure. You told off a disgusting drow woman who made Astarion uncomfortable, a cat insulted you and your hunting, and a half-orc was utterly entranced by your lust filled thoughts of Astarion. And that was all in the span of a few hours.

It’s no wonder that today’s been a bit calmer for you all. Your team is on the outskirts of the towers, searching the remains of its previously bustling settlement. However, being out of the lion’s den doesn’t mean you feel any less tense today.

Astarion has been oddly distant since you left Moonrise yesterday. You can’t help but worry for him, knowing that he takes to sulking alone at times. Perhaps the tower was a reminder of bad memories? Maybe the reality of your situation was just too much right now.

Either way, you know that it’s you that needs to get to the bottom of it, as he keeps sneaking glances your way. Each time you catch him looking, his gaze darts away and his brow furrows as he stares at the ground. It might be comical if it didn’t instill a deep concern in you.

Honestly, you’d ask him what was wrong here and now if it weren’t for your companions, Shadowheart and Karlach. They have certainly noticed something amiss, Astarion is almost never without a quick quip, but they decide not to acknowledge it. Despite his occasional bravado, he’s a private person, and it wouldn’t do to corner him as a group.

And so, the rest of your day is spent in an awkward silence, somehow amplified by the eerie stillness surrounding you. You decide to search through the Mason’s Guild, hoping for a palette cleanser to help your team feel like themselves again. For one particular teammate to feel like himself again.

As you had hoped, it’s not difficult work. At one point Karlach even whines to you, “Soldier, I’m bored. Aren’t we going to see some action today?”

She, of course, gets her wish moments later when your group faces off against some Shadow Vestiges. 

“Please be more careful next time,” Shadowheart chides, healing a wound on Karlach’s arm after the battle. “The Lady of Sorrows can only do so much when you charge into a group like that.”

The tiefling laughs at that and flexes her arm a bit. “How else am I going to impress our leader?” She shoots you a wink and a smile, which you deftly deflect with a thumbs up.

“Consider me impressed, Karlach,” you call into the wide room with an echo. “I’m swooning!”

She comments something in approval, but you don’t catch it as you see Astarion slinking off into the dark recesses of the Mason’s Guild. You excuse yourself, humor leaving your voice as you follow him into the shadows.

You think you hear Astarion muttering to himself, swearing, and you follow the sound to him. When you finally find him, the vampire just looks at you, eyes dark and face torn. It’s been too much for you to bear all day, and you can’t help but snap at him now, “Do you need to talk?”

“Later,” he says, through gritted teeth. His eyes close and he softens his expression, “Please, just come by my tent later.”

You relent for now, but it’s only a short while later that you decide to call it an early day. “For no reason,” you say to Karlach, when she asks why. “We’ve just had a rough couple of days.”

Shadowheart, catching the way your eyes trail Astarion, places a hand on Karlach’s shoulder. “You need to rest that wound of yours, alright?”

Karlach visibly slumps, but says, “Alright. Goddess’s orders or something, I guess.”

Finally leaving the land surrounding Moonrise in your dust, you head back to camp. 

___

You head toward Astarion’s tent at the first opportunity. You’re resolved to get to the bottom of what might be bothering him. Whatever it is, it can’t be worse than illithids or Cazador– in short, nothing that you can’t handle together. On the way, you try to convince yourself you would go to any lengths for all of your companions. Underneath it all, you know that you would go a bit further for this particular man. Leave it to me to link my happiness to the emotions of a vampire, you think to yourself, annoyed.

You shake the scowl off your face before turning the corner to Astarion’s tent. Once you approach, you find that he’s already standing there, waiting for you expectantly.

“I want to thank you,” he says, starting off the conversation once you’re close enough. He seems oddly unsure, either of how to approach the subject or of the very words coming out of his mouth.

Raising a single eyebrow at him, your worry takes a secondary role to the confusion his words cause. “You’re welcome?” you question, not sure what prompted such a sentence from his lips.

“For what you said, while I was in front of that vile drow,” he explains, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. His voice begins heating up as he continues, “I spent two hundred years using my body to lure pretty things back for my Master. What I wanted, how I felt about what I was doing, it never mattered.”

You take a step towards him, your heart reacting to the pain in his words, to the anger on his face. Despite getting closer over the past several weeks, you still feel scared to console him, afraid he’ll take off like a skittish cat. You decide that this is enough for now, saying just his name, “Astarion…”

He doesn’t startle, only continues a bit calmer, “You could have asked me to do the same– to throw myself at her, what I wanted be damned. But you didn’t.” He sounds in awe at the very idea, his red eyes wide. “And I’m grateful.”

Understanding fully dawns on you now, as you see the situation from his perspective. Leveling a serious look at him, you say earnestly, “I didn't want you to do something you don’t want to do. Actually, I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.” You hope that your words ring as fiercely as you feel them.

“It’s a novel concept I admit. And a… a little intimidating.” His eyes are big, fear at war with a warmth at your words. “It would have been so easy to bite her. To just go along with what I was being told to do.” Astarion continues flippantly now, waving a hand as he speaks, “A moment of disgust to force myself through. And then I could have carried on, just like before.”

A transaction. He says it so casually, masking the pain that you know he feels. But you’re still a person, a person who might have been just another checkmark on his to-do list, another thing to force himself through. Despite yourself, you’re hurt. Afraid of the answer, but needing it all the same, you ask, “So why sleep with me? Did you think you’d get something from it?”

“Of course, I needed protection,” he laughs, and you can feel your heart pounding painfully against your chest in response. He remains casual though, so you temper your hurt, waiting for his full answer. “People don’t trust vampires– perhaps understandably– so I needed to get someone on my side. And seducing you was easy, frankly.”

You look at him skeptically, recalling that it was not, in fact, easy. “Huh, okay. We might be remembering that a bit differently.” But you motion for him to continue– as far as ‘thank yous’ go, this one has been distinctly gut-wrenching, and you hope that he’s reaching a point.

“So imagine how stupid I felt…” he says, eyes darting away nervously. Cautiously, Astarion returns his eyes to you– his face is open, bearing an expression more vulnerable than any you’ve seen from him. “When I started to genuinely feel something for you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, brain processing what he’s just said far too sluggishly. What, you think to yourself, did he say?

Reading the shock on your face, he continues to clarify, “Trust me, I was not happy about it. You were a complication I didn’t see coming. And yet…” His voice trails off, looking at you as if daring himself to be hopeful.

You already know your answer, what your heart feels. You’ve known for quite some time, resisting it all the while, thinking he could never feel the same way. But here you are now, his wide eyes and exposed heart waiting for you to say something– anything. Wracking your brain, you think of the skittish cat again. You don’t want to scare him or seem disingenuous, not now. You settle on a simple, achingly honest, “I care about you.”

“Really?” he asks, breathless in the moment, eyes wide in anticipation. The anxious optimism is written plainly on his face and your body moves, almost on instinct.

You’ve been so afraid to be tender before, worrying that he may not feel the same way or even believe you. Now though, you know this is the best way to show how you truly feel. To make him realize that you don’t see him as a body to take pleasure in or as someone who serves as a means to an end.

You close the distance between you, wrapping him in a full-body hug. 

He seems surprised at the sudden contact. Unlike any embrace you’ve had before, it’s not sexual, it’s not tentative. It’s simply full of all of the love you can muster.

After a second’s hesitation, you can feel him move to hug you back, his hands come to rest on your back softly. You squeeze him to yourself a bit tighter in response, and he leans into you, his head tucking into the crook of your neck. You stand like that for a long moment, the camp around you long forgotten, the world, your problems, they might as well be in another plane of existence. The feel of his arms around you, the tickle of his hair on your skin, the warmth you’re sharing – it feels so utterly intimate. More than anything else you’ve done together thus far.

When the time comes, you’re reluctant to let go. You know it has to be you to break it though. With the way he’s leaning into you, the pressure of his body pressing into yours, Astarion may never break this hug. But let go you do, standing back a step to take in the man before you.

Awe colors his pale face, as if he can’t believe that this is really happening. He takes a second to blink at you before saying, “You… you’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” 

You chuckle in response, shooting him a wry smile, “I think my feelings may only be a surprise to you, Astarion.” You have a sneaking suspicion that at least a few members of your merry crew are exchanging knowing looks at each other right now, watching this drama unfold from the comfort of their tents.

“Honestly,” he gives a shaky laugh. “I have no idea what we’re doing. Or what comes next.”

He slowly holds out his hand to you, a cautious invitation. It’s a simple gesture, but you’re not certain you’ve ever just… held his hand before. It almost makes you timid. You push down the butterflies and place your hand in his, looking up to find his ruby eyes intensely focused on you. The affection in his eyes wash away all of your nerves, and the smile that comes to your face is beaming.

Reading your expression, Astarion gets a step closer. He places his second hand atop yours and says, “But I know that this... this is nice.”

Then he just smiles at you, eyes crinkling in pure, unfiltered joy, and it reaches to your core. It feels like sunshine after a storm, a light in the murky depths of the Shadowlands. You think you could live off of his smile alone.

Again, you stand together for a moment, drinking in the feelings that have surfaced, basking in this nervous little bliss you’ve built together. By the time you break apart, your hand has warmed his cool skin and you can hear the sounds of your companions continuing camp life around you.

You give an awkward cough, not sure what to do next. The relationship between you has changed, but you’re not sure how yet, or how you should approach it. Nothing your usual wit can’t handle, you suppose. “And here I was, worried all day that some new, undying horror was plaguing you.”

“Gods above, I wish,” he says dramatically. “But no, it was the far more difficult matter of my stupid heart versus my beautiful, pragmatic brain.”

“I’m sad I didn’t get to witness the epic battle,” you give him a disappointed face that does nothing at all to mask the glee you feel at imagining his thoughts firmly revolving around you all day.

Astarion gives you a reluctant smirk before saying, “You missed a bloodbath. Last night, I stared at the roof of my tent, just considering all of the ways you may reject me. Like some kind of pining prepubescent boy.” His face winces at the image. “I thought I may never feel like myself again.”

While amusing, you’re surprised he thought you would ever reject him. “I always thought you were the perceptive one. Did you really not notice how I felt?”

He gives a light laugh at your incredulity. “My love,” your heart thrills at the new pet name. “I make hearts race regularly– whether from fear or lust, who am I to say?” Astarion gives you a sidelong look before continuing in a slightly sullen tone, “Besides, you’ve always seemed incredibly close to Karlach, I didn’t want to presume.”

“Ah, yes. She tried,” you look a bit abashed, thinking back to the night she asked you for something more. “But… I wasn’t sure what we had. And I didn’t want to ruin it, no matter what it was.”

“Seems I should have trusted your good taste.” He looks proud, but somehow you’re certain that it’s not just pride in himself. “You are incredible.”

You feel almost overwhelmed at his praise. If this is what being in a relationship with him is like, you’re not certain your heart will be able to handle it. While you consider that thought, the question of your relationship begins burning a hole in you. “So,” you drawl, not certain how to broach the subject. You’re still incredibly careful about scaring him off, especially when the connection you’ve built is such a new, delicate thing. “What exactly are…  we?” You add on, “To you?” as a safeguard. He needs to know that he can formulate his own opinion and you won’t push the matter. 

He produces an anxious little sigh, “I don’t know. But isn’t it nice, not to know?”

The look you give him is likely more nervous than you intend. “I suppose.”

“Ugh, you’re not a victim, not a target, not just one night it’s better to forget. But then… whatever in the world could you be?” Astarion looks confused, desperate for an answer he’s not ready for.

You know it’s not your place to give it to him. And, to be honest, even this admission makes your heart feel full, comforted. “That’s okay,” you respond. “Let’s take our time, figure it out together?”

“I’d like that.” His small smile is genuine and his hand is back on yours, squeezing gently.

An involuntary yawn escapes you, the day’s exertions catching up to you as the conversation winds down. “Oh, sorry,” you cover your mouth with your free hand. “I didn’t mean to–”

“No need to worry, darling.” He lifts the hand he’s holding to his lips and leaves a cool, gentle kiss before continuing, “It’s late. Our feelings will still be there in the morning.” He shoots you an anxious glance before continuing, “I hope.”

You grin at him, all too happy to reassure him. This is new to you both, but especially to a vampire who hasn’t known a gentle embrace in centuries. “I’m afraid you can’t be rid of me that easily. I’m not a wound that can heal up overnight, you know.”

Astarion leans into you to say, “If you were, I think I’d simply never sleep again.”

Your heart races at his weird little compliment. And, while your body begs you for the sweet relief of sleep, your head and heart scream at you to stay awake, to while away the rest of the night next to him and relish in whatever it is that’s blossoming here.

He can sense your hesitation to leave and tugs on your hand gently. “I’m probably doing this all backwards, but would you like to sleep with me? Not,” he stresses quickly, “sex. Just… resting together, perhaps?”

“Yes, please,” you say, earnestly. “I’d love to know what was so fascinating about the ceiling of your tent.”

Your new paramour shoots you an annoyed look, but continues to pull you after him, leading you to his bedroll. His hand is warm from your touch and you silently swear to keep it that way.

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #rogue + rogue #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion fluff #astarion masterlist #hugs for a vampire #hfav #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion

[crustaceousfaggot]

Why you should give Text Adventure games a try (and how to do so)

There is not nearly enough love for Text Adventure Games here on Tumblr. Or anywhere really. But especially here, I feel like you guys would really get a kick out of them. Here's why:

(quick note, I'm gonna be using the words Text Adventure and Interactive Fiction pretty interchangeably here. Technically that's not perfectly accurate, they are technically different things, but I don't care to explain the difference Just roll with it.)

So

Do you like weird short stories told through unconventional mediums? That's most of what Interactive Fiction is

You like story based video games but hate the finicky combat? Congrats, there is literally no combat skill required beyond the ability to type "hit guard with crowbar"

Blind or visually impaired? Since these games are (with a few exceptions) entirely text based, they work great with a screen reader!

Sick of profit motivated AAA titles with no creative integrity? Well, these games are almost always produced by a single nerd (usually a horrid amalgamation of computer geek and literature geek) with no budget and no responsibilities of the product they're making. And they're usually not paid, since these games are free. Text Adventure is a labour of love, and in most games you can feel the care and effort the creator has put into the game.

Sick of spending $20-70 on a video game? Lucky you, I've been playing TA for years and I have not spent a cent in doing so (Fallen Londen will try to make you pay. But Fallen Londen sucks and is run by bigots. Fuck Fallen London.) Games are either available free on a browser, or as free, small downloadable files (most of which can be played using the Parchment Interpreter)

Wish you read more, but reliant on the quick dopamine of digital media? Well now you can read while also being an active participant in the narrative.

Bad at puzzles? Me too! Games from the 80s and 90s, as well as more famous newer games, have walkthroughs and hints easily available online. Newer games tend to either have a "hint" command, or come with a walkthrough file.

Do you like weird surrealist horror? Well there's... A lot of it.

Okay, but where do I start?

So there are two types of text adventure. The one you might be more accustomed to, and which sees more modern use, is called Hypertext Interactive Fiction. The other is called Parser Interactive Fiction, it's generally seen in older games, as well as games that are larger, feature more puzzles, or involve more exploration.

Hypertext games

Basically, the game will give you a scenario, and then a list of options (hypertext links) to click on to decide what to do next. These are usually more beginner friendly since you don't need to fiddle around with parsers, but personally I find them a bit limiting. Nonetheless, if you're new to Text Adventure, they're a good place to start.

Some of my favourites hypertext games (summaries in green)

My Father's Long, Long Legs is an interactive horror story about family, unease, and loss. Really more of a story than a game, but still good. Very nice use of sound. It does have some visual aspects, so this one might not work with screen readers

Scene Kid Simulator is pretty much what it says on the tin. A cute, nostalgic, coming-of-age slice of life story from the POV of a 2000s scene preteen. Nothing special, but a fun time.

The Uncle Who Works at Nintendo is a strange, unconventional, witty, and heartfelt horror game. Your friend has an uncle who he says works for Nintendo. You're about to meet him, or so he says. A fun and spooky look at childhood, childhood friendships, and childhood lies.

16 Ways to Kill a Vampire at McDonald's is... A joy to play. The name says it all honestly. Witty, charming, tense, engaging, and emotional when it wants to be. I actually found this one through a lucky Tumblr Blaze, which makes sense since this is perfectly suited to Tumblr sensibilities. This one has more puzzle aspects than most hypertext games, but it's still relatively easy and beginner friendly. You're a vampire hunter. It's your night off, and you go to McDonald's. But there's something wrong with the customer sitting beside you...

Toadstools is a game about hunting mushrooms. You have trespassed in a national park and you are wandering blindly through the woods looking for rare fungi. Good luck :)

Parser games

Okay these fuckers are where I really get excited. These games have the classic flashing cursor line where you input text like "go north", "search bookshelf", or "kiss my husband", and the game's rudimentary AI parses your input to decide what happens next. These are my favourites. They really allow you the feeling of exploring the game world, immerse you in the protagonist and the story, using just text on a screen and simple inputs. This does make them considerably more difficult, since a) you need to decide the right way to phrase what you want to do, otherwise it won't work, and b) more possibilities means more chances to mess up and miss things. Unlike video games, your cursor won't light up when you see something important, you'll have to search stuff and work things out on your own But, in my opinion, it is so, so worth it. Summaries in red

The first text adventure game I ever played was One Eye Open. It's an extremely graphic and gory medical horror game (although I would consider it tasteful medical horror, in that it never derives horror from medical procedures, disability, or ooOoHh gross scary sick people) You play as a volunteer test subject for a medical research facility, having to unravel the mystery of the hospital's bloody past. It's good. It's fun. It's tense. It has some really dumb mechanics. Don't play if you're sensitive to descriptions of gore, death, or corpses. This one doesn't have a walkthrough, but I've played it enough times to know the puzzles by heart, DM me if you need help.

Anchorhead is possibly my favourite piece of interactive fiction I've ever played. It's incredible. You play as a newlywed woman, moving to the small seaside town of Anchorhead after your husband Michael inherited a mansion from some distant relatives. There's something wrong with the town though. There's definitely something wrong with your husband's mysterious ancestors. And you're starting to think that there might be something strange happening to Michael. Get ready for some wonderfully atmospheric and immersive Lovecraftian horror, action sequences that are incredibly vibrant for Text Adventure, and a super compelling mystery that the game lets you work out on your own. The puzzles here are hard. I'm not gonna lie, I used a walkthrough at several points during this game. But my god it's worth it. Big massive huge content warning here for mentions of incest, sexual assault, and pedophilia. Not in excess, and nothing explicit, but it will be mentioned as part of the story.

Little Blue Men is a short, strange, sci-fi-ish horror-ish comedy-ish game by the same author as Anchorhead, though the two games are wildly different. You are an office worker. Cope with it. Take The Stanley Parable, Stella Firma, and Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, mash 'em together, and you have Little Blue Men. It's bizarre. It's evocative. It's pretty darn good.

Coloratura is a strangely beautiful sci-fi story. You're a weird little alien blob. You've been separated from your home and are trapped aboard a human spaceship. You need to get home, need to make the humans understand in the only ways you can: color and song.

Slouching Towards Bedlam is a brilliant little steampunk game about language, choice, cults, Armageddon, and triangles. This game has multiple endings. It's neat in that none of the endings are really "good" or "bad". Rather, you need to decide where you stand, and act in the way you think is best.

The Lurking Horror is the grandparent of horror interactive fiction, released in the late 80s. You're a tech student in university. Something more than electricity is powering the school's computers. Find it, but don't die along the way. Besides the comically archaic descriptions of computers, this game doesn't feel all that dated. It's tricky, puzzle-heavy, and charmingly surreal. (Fun fact, this game and another old TA game called Zork inspired the "darkness kills you" mechanic which would later be popularized in Don't Starve!)

Nine Lives is a very short, very weird, very cartoony game where you play a cat that is very bad at staying alive. Cw for non-graphic but repeated cat death.

Spider and Web is one of the most ingenious uses of Text Adventure as a medium I've ever seen. It's famous for having one of, if not the singular best puzzles in video game history. It's tense, it's fast-paced, it introduces you to mechanics slowly and then lets you test them out on your own. I won't spoil too much, but you play as a very badass spy, reliving your brilliant heist during an interrogation. This game even features a character destined to be a Tumblr Sexyman. It really has it all.

If anyone actually read through all this, and has even considered playing any of these games, I'll be a little surprised. This post turned out a lot longer than I wanted it to be. It was meant to just be "hey interactive fiction is a cool and underappreciated medium, go check it out", but this is my special interest, and not one I often get to talk about. I guess this was me infodumping to the only place that will listen, the empty void of the internet. But these games are fun. And they do not get enough love. Text games are a dying genre, if they're not dead already. Give them a chance, show them some love.

#video games #games #text adventures #interactive fiction #horror #horror games #lovecraftian horror #anchorhead #if #decided not to mention Cragne Manor #because that's a beast all it's own #and it isn't really worth reccomending unless you're already an Anchorhead fan and seasoned IF player #swarm's nonsense #gaming

[miaowitch]

Lonesome Ride (18+)

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Read on Ao3 or below !!

Cole Cassidy / GN!Reader (Overwatch 2)

cw ⋆｡‧˚♡ smut, swearing, grinding, power bottom pov, plot what plot, cumming in pants, high tension, canon/reader

summary ⋆｡‧˚♡

You get swept away by the Deadlock Gang, outlaws and violent maniacs. Or are they? Cole Cassidy is your watchful guardian, but you wonder if he even feels anything as you spend countless nights together. Will he ever reach the breaking point?

1.2k words

It was nice to have moments like this. Alone, resting at an inn for the night. It was the only inn you’d seen in days, traveling with the Deadlock Gang wasn’t for the weak. You wouldn’t consider yourself weak, but being abducted by a gang wasn’t in your plans for the month. Cole Cassidy, the young gun criminal, kept his eye close on you. You were technically his, in every sense of the way. 

Not that you hated the concept of a new life, you were practically begging. With a boring life at home, it was easy to imagine a big adventure. This was your big adventure. You wouldn’t admit it, but it wasn’t a bad life. They weren’t the gang of hardened criminals the paper made them out to be. You weren’t bound, just monitored. You weren’t starved or dehydrated, you were treated like a human. 

Which is what brought you to the inn. Instead of camping for the 5th time on low supplies, Ashe directed the gang to a nearby spot her old friend ran. Cole took responsibility for watching you, but you knew he’d much rather be drinking by the fire with the rest of the gang. He stayed in the wooden chair by the window in the room, chewing idly at a lit cigar. You’d gotten used to being in shared company, sharing a horse with the man had gotten you pretty close. 

Being pressed up with your back to his front, bouncing rhythmically with each gallop. The smell of his cigars was familiar now from being so close against him. You might’ve been a little pent up from the repetitive motion, but that didn’t matter. Cassidy hadn’t said much since you’d made it to the hotel. It was…a little awkward. With a free hand, he played at the brim of his hat that rested in his lap, letting his brown hair lay soft around his face. The radio in the room broadcasted a radio show with the occasional news break. It was easy to forget he was an outlaw in moments like this.

You let out a sigh, breaking the silence between the two of you. It was loud enough for him to make a comment. “Bored?” His deep voice inquired. “I guess.” You laid back onto the bed with another sigh. Your legs hung off the side of the bed, swaying slowly with your boredom. “It’s not like you’re being forced to say.” Cole replied, “You’re the one that asked me to bring you along.” It caused a small twinge in your head. He was annoying. His tone was slightly bitter, but you weren’t sure what was up his ass. 

“I know.” You hissed, shooting back up. “No one is asking you to sit in here, I’m not going anywhere.” Matching his frustrated tone, just to watch his expression shift. “Y’know, I’m not askin’ for your damn attitude either. Y’don’t see me crying!” Cole took the cigar from his mouth, resting it between his pointer and middle finger. “In fact, I didn’t ask for you to ride with me either.” He muttered, but you understood. Then, as if to distract you from the first part, threatened. “Maybe I should just pull someone else in to deal with your crazy ass.” Yet a smile had already formed on your face, realizing what was wrong with Cole Cassidy. 

Your fists clenched around the fabric of the quilt laid on the bed. Leaning forward just slightly, you figured you would try something. “What was wrong with riding with me?” Asking that made him tense up. The brim of his hat became clenched in a fist. The hat rested higher in his lap now, holding it tight to hide his tightening pants. “Do you really not want to deal with me anymore?” Standing up, you stood in front of him, as if showing off in your thin sleepwear. “Now..I-I didn’t say that.” He cleared his throat, avoiding your stare and placing the cigar back between his lips.

Stepping closer, you now stood with your knees almost touching the chair he sat on. Standing between his open knees, he now couldn’t look anywhere else. Now, he looked right at you. Hooded eyes, he needed something that he wouldn’t admit to. “Are you okay, Cassidy?” Sharply, he inhaled as you moved away his hat, placing it right on your head. “Couldn’t big bad Cole Cassidy say he wanted to fuck me?” You smile, teasing him as his face flushes with a deep blush. You slowly crawl onto his lap, legs falling on the side of his own.

“Ohh, darlin’....please..” Cassidy begs under your grasp. Thighs placed on either side of his legs, straddling him while putting pressure in the center of his groin. You adjust, grinding up on his coarse jeans. “Please what?” You ask with an innocent tone, keeping quiet for no reason at all. Cole squirmed, looking down between the two of your bodies. Grinding up onto his lap, the thin fabric of your pajamas didn’t leave much to the imagination of what’s beneath his jeans. You let a hand hold onto his shoulder, the other closed the lace curtains behind Cassidy. 

Now his hands gripped onto you, guiding you…using you. His right hand held onto your waist, his left onto your thigh. You let out quiet moans, sensitively twitching each lap you’d make on his hard cock pressed on your crotch. The only reaction he’d given was a furrowed brow while pulling you harder onto his dick. He groaned, laying his head onto the center of your chest. “Gh- Please, don’t stop.” Cole pleaded, his teeth gritted onto the cigar that still sat between his lips.

As if you could stop, with the combined desperation from you and Cassidy’s grasp on you, but it just wasn’t an option. Your speed quickened the longer you went on, teasing at him through the same dusty jeans you’d been grinding against for days now. Cole wouldn’t announce it, but you knew he was close when he started bucking his hips up against you. Startling you, but it’s not as if it was unwelcome. You now held on tighter to keep up with the ride, arousal was intoxicating the two of you, you needed this probably just as much as Cole did. Choking on your name, he repeated it like gospel. As if you were just to be used by his own pleasure, his hands now moved to your ass. Giving him more control with your motion in his firm grasp. 

Combining his forceful moving of your ass against his now throbbing dick, and bucking his hips up; Cassidy’s only thought was finishing you off. Your chest rose and fell quickly against his face that he buried against you, hiding from your teasing smile. Watching him melt under you just grinding against him, watching Cole Cassidy lose himself without even taking his pants off. He moaned out your name in a strained tone, the cigar dropping as he let his guard down. 

His tension melted away under you, fully relaxing while you still sat on his lap. Panting, but not fully satisfied. His head laid back, neck balancing on the back of the table chair. Eyes closed for just a second before cracking one open to look at you. Still looking, hoping he wasn’t done. A sly grin finally cracked on his face, “Look who’s beggin’ now.” He chuckled, grabbing back onto your ass and standing up. Lifting you in his arms, he kissed your quivering lips. Carrying you closer to the bed, and mentally preparing for a long night.

#`` ~ ୨୧ ♡ · love notes #`` ~ ୨୧ ♡ · drabbles #ow2 #overwatch 2 #overwatch fanfic #cole cassidy x reader #cole cassidy #deadlock gang #cole cassidy fanfiction #cole cassidy fanfic #overwatch smut #overwatch x reader #`` ~ ୨୧ ♡ · 18+

[prosebushpatch]

IT IS not wip wednesday but when there’s a wip, there’s a way and that, my friends, is the name of this game~ I’ve been developing a story idea, and since it’s still in the brainstorming stages, I thought I would share the little snippets I’m playing with to figure out what I want the story to be since they don’t (shouldn’t) need context. The first snippet is my attempt to play with a voice and tone lackadaisically emulating an author i love, and I wrote this as prologue, even if it doesn’t end up being the beginning. Seems a fair place to start! It’s approximately 900 words and if you read, I hope you enjoy! So...

“Now that we’ve had our introductions, allow me to pour the tea,” the older man says.

Liquid amber streams into a porcelain cup. The cup is decorated in lavender petals, but when the younger man lifts it to his lips, he smells peppermint.

“What brings you to the area?” The older man asks. The teapot decorated in sprigs that matches the cup is set down, but it settles as softly as a brooding mother dove. The older man eases into his armchair and presses his fingertips together.

“Nothing in particular,” the younger man answers honestly.

He is too busy scanning the sitting room to sip his tea. Books with leather or cloth bindings fill the roasted chestnut shelves. Patches of olive-green wallpaper with intricate patterns of dragonflies spread across the few sections of the wall not hidden by shelves. A painted portrait of the older man hangs over a writing desk, and its golden frame glows in lamp light.

“Are you lost?” The portrait’s voice comes from the armchair.

“I might as well be.” The younger man’s gaze snaps towards a quirked brow over twinkling eyes. Clearing his throat, he adds, “I can’t stay long. I have to go back.”

“How can you be lost if you know where and when to be?”

“I’m not sure where and when I want to be,” he admits quietly. The amber tea swirls around the cup and he watches the ripples. “I thought I did. I thought I knew where I wanted to go. But I’m no longer sure this is it.”

“Then find a different destination,” the older man makes it sound as effortless as wings alighting on the wind.

“It’s too late.” The younger man shakes his head. “I’ve spent too long on this path, put in too much to just abandon it.”

“It’s never too late to change,” the older man says. “How’s the tea?”

The younger man remembers the cup in his hand and takes a sip. He is not fond of how peppermint cannot reconcile its sharp brightness with the earthiness that is signature of most teas. Still, he swallows and is grateful for the beverage.

“You’ve found the place that change happens the most easily,” the older man continues. “You might search for a new path here.”

“I have to go back.” The younger man shakes his head.

“You say that you have to but what do you want to do?” He pulls away from the puffing cushions in the armchair. While he hunches over his lap to reach for the assortment of pitchers and pots on the tea tray, his olive eyes search the younger man, reflecting gold in the light.

With a sigh, the younger man rubs his thumb along the rim of his teacup.

“I don’t know. To love, to live, to know it all matters. For it to have meaning.”

“And you can’t find all that in your current path?” The older man quirks a brow, challenging him.

“I’m trying,” the younger man says, a bit defensively.

“Of course.” The older man gestures towards a pot with a wooden dowel sticking out. “Perhaps you would like the tea if it were a little sweeter.”

Feeling as if he is expected to try it, the younger man directs honey into his cup with a comb-shaped wand. Once he leans back in his seat, his thumb lightly sticks to the porcelain.

“I just wish I could be free of it,” he admits. “Free of responsibilities, free of having to prove myself to others.”

“That is not so hard to accomplish here,” the older man says, gesturing towards the walls covered in books and dragonflies. “In fact, change comes easier than most can plan for.”

The younger man sips the tea, and though the honey has sweetened it, the peppermint is made more abrasive against the earthy warmth. He glances towards the cuckoo clock. The second hand measures the silence between them with a tick, tick, tick.

It is almost four.

“I should leave.” He uncrosses his legs, ready to stand. “Thank you for the tea and chat.”

“My pleasure,” the older man murmurs, and the younger man throws back the rest of his tea before placing the cup on its saucer with a clink.

He feels lightheaded when he stands. With a stretch, he tries to dispel the dizziness.

“Before you go, may I have your name?” the older man asks.

While the younger man tilts his head, gentle brown bangs shift over his eyes.

“Haven’t I given it already?” he asks, a bemused smile on his lips.

Tick.

“Just checking.” The older man grins as a cuckoo’s mechanical song marks the change in the hour.

Though the younger man has not taken a step forward or back, he suddenly lurches and grabs onto his chair. His heart flutters against his ribs, as if trying to fly to his throat. With furrowed brows, he whips his head back towards the older man who watches quietly. The younger man hyperventilates as his lungs constrict. He realizes, as his eyelids grow heavy, he has run out of time.

A sound as fragile as the cuckoo’s twittering escapes the younger man’s lips before he drops.

The older man’s bright voice is somehow abrasive against his warm tone.

“It was nice to meet you.”

#rose and rambles #prosie's writing adventures #when there's a wip there's a way #okay i wasn't sure how to tag these BUT IT'S THAT #THESE WILL BE TAGGED WHEN THERE'S A WIP THERE'S A WAY #if/when i continue these i will use that tag and these will all take place in the same 'story' #so you will see snippets of the world and characters but they all belong to the same story im developing and to each other #if that makes sense am i over explaining? #ANYWAY MEET WIP. MY SON WIP. HIS NAME IS WIP. #the younger man is wip and BOY i sure do love him #so i might experiment with tone and voice in these too. idk im just experimenting with this #but tone/voice/pov/tense are subject to change from snippet to snippet

[itsmealaiah]

Can you please do some smut where the reader is pegging georg and how he refuses to be submissive but eventually gives in because it feels so good😓

yeah of course!

Refusal

tags/ warnings: pegging, refusal of being a sub!, cursing, smut overall.

MDNI (don't like please don't leave hate)

pairing: georg x fem

Georg's POV:

The first time y/n mentioned pegging me, I didn't know what it was. I thought she was just trying to be funny, or maybe she'd heard something from a porn video and wanted to try it out. But when she explained it, I wasn't so sure. I mean, I'd always thought of myself as the tough one. And here she was, telling me she wanted to stick a dildo up my ass.

I remember looking at her like she'd lost her mind. I couldn't believe she was serious. But the way she looked at me… there was this fire in her eyes that I'd never seen before. It was both scary and exciting at the same time. So, I tried to laugh it off. "Yeah, right. Like that's ever going to happen."

But the more I thought about it, the more it got stuck in my head. I mean, I'd always been pretty adventurous in bed, but this… this was on a whole new level. And for some reason, I couldn't stop thinking about it. So, I finally brought it up with her a few days later. "You know, I've been thinking… maybe I'd be up for trying that pegging thing."

She looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language. "You would?" Her voice was soft, almost disbelieving. "Are you sure?"

I nodded. "Well, I'm not promising anything, but… I mean, why not give it a shot, right?" I tried to sound confident, but inside I was a mess of nerves and curiosity.

y/n grinned at me, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Okay," she breathed. "Let's do this." And with that, she grabbed me by the hand and led me to our bedroom.

I followed her, feeling a mixture of anticipation and fear. When we got to the bed, she started to undress me, slowly pulling my clothes off, her hands running over my body. I felt a stirring in my groin as she traced her fingers along my stomach and up my chest. She paused for a moment, looking at me with those intense eyes, and then she leaned forward and kissed me, her tongue dancing against mine.

Her touch sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt myself growing harder beneath her hands. As she kissed me, she reached behind me and undid my belt, pulling my pants and boxers down. I felt naked and exposed, but at the same time, it was the most exhilarating feeling I'd ever experienced.

She took the dildo from the bedside table and lubed it up, her movements sure and confident. Then she knelt between my legs, gazing at me with a look that made me feel both wanted and protected. With one hand, she spread my legs wide, and with the other, she guided the head of the dildo toward my entrance.

I tensed up at the sensation of cold, slick plastic pressing against my skin, but y/n didn't hesitate. She leaned forward, kissing me softly on the lips as she began to push the dildo inside. I bit down on my tongue to stifle a groan, feeling the thickness of it stretch me wider and wider. Her hand came to rest on my hip, holding me steady, and I could feel the dildo pressing deeper and deeper into my ass.

"You're doing great, baby," she whispered, her voice low and soothing. "You're taking it so well." Her words sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt a rush of heat spread through my body as I realized just how good it actually felt. I tried to tell myself I shouldn't like it, that I should fight it, but the truth was, it was too intense, too real, to ignore.

As she continued to thrust the dildo in and out of me, I closed my eyes and let myself surrender to the sensation. The feel of her skin against mine, the rhythm of her hips, the weight of her breath on my neck… it all combined to create a cocoon of pleasure that enveloped me, drowning out everything else.

"That's it," she murmured, her hands gripping my hips tighter. "Let go. Let me take care of you." And with that, she began to move faster, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she found her rhythm. I arched my back, meeting her thrusts with my own, unable to resist the urge to feel more of her, to be closer to her.

As the sensations built inside me, I felt a tightening in my abdomen, a rush of heat pooling low in my groin. "Oh god, y/n…" I moaned, my voice hoarse and desperate. "I'm… I'm close."

She leaned forward, pressing her lips against my ear. "Cum for me, baby," she whispered, her voice husky and commanding. "Let it all out." Her words were like a trigger, and as she said them, I felt the wave of pleasure wash over me, crashing through my body in an intense, all-consuming rush. I cried out her name, arching my back as I came, my hips bucking wildly against her.

She kept thrusting, even as my orgasm subsided, her rhythm matching the frantic pounding of my heart. The feel of that inside me was both strange and exquisite, and as I grew more accustomed to the sensation, I found myself wanting more. Wanting her. Wanting this.

"Fuck, y/n…" I gasped, feeling my body begin to tense again. "I can't… I can't take any more…"

She leaned forward, pressing her lips against mine. "You can take it," she whispered, her voice low and confident. "You're stronger than you think." Her words were like a mantra, and with each thrust, they drove deeper into my core.

As I adjusted to the sensation of her inside me, I began to move in time with her, our bodies locked in a rhythm that felt both familiar and brand-new. The dildo pressed against places inside me that I hadn't known could feel so good, and I found myself losing myself in the intensity of the pleasure she was giving me.

Her lips trailed hot, wet paths along my jaw and neck, her tongue dancing against my skin, and with each thrust she took, her hips ground against mine, sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body. I could feel the dildo stretching me, filling me in a way that felt both right and wrong, and with every breath, I became more and more lost in the sensation.

"God, y/n…" I moaned, my voice hoarse and desperate. "I'm so close…"

She leaned forward, her lips brushing against my ear. "Let go, baby," she whispered, her voice husky and commanding. "Let me take you there." And with that, she began to move faster, her hips bucking wildly against mine, the dildo thrusting deeper and deeper inside me.

My body tensed, and with a cry that was part pleasure and part pain, I felt another wave of release wash over me. This time, it was stronger, more intense than before, and as I came, I could feel the dildo pulsing inside me in time with my orgasm.

She held me tight, her breath hot against my neck as she continued to move, her rhythm matching the frantic pounding of my heart. The sensation of being so intimately connected to her was overwhelming, and with each thrust, I felt myself growing closer to the edge once more.

"Fuckk, y/n…" I gasped, arching my back as I felt my body begin to tremble. "I'm close…"

Her movements grew more urgent, her hips slamming against mine in perfect rhythm. I could feel the dildo deep inside me, stretching me in ways I never knew were possible. The sensation was exquisite, and with each thrust, it grew more intense.

Her breath came in ragged gasps as she leaned in, her lips finding mine. "Let go, baby," she whispered, her tongue dancing against mine. "Come for me." And with that, she pushed me over the edge, her body shuddering as she came in perfect harmony with mine.

Our bodies moved together, lost in the rhythm of pleasure, the dildo still thrusting inside me as I rode out the aftershocks of my orgasm. She lay across my chest, her weight pressing me into the mattress, and for a moment, I thought I could feel her heart beating in time with my own.

"God, y/n…" I breathed, running my fingers through her hair. "That was… fucking awesome"

She smiled down at me, her eyes shining with pleasure. "I know, right?" She slid off me, and I felt a twinge of loss as the dildo slipped out. She tossed it to the side with a wink. "That was… incredible."

I sat up, reaching for her and pulling her into my arms. "I've never felt anything like that before," I confessed, my heart still racing. "I mean, I've seen dildos sure but that.."

She laughed, kissing me softly on the lips. "I know what you mean," she said, her breath warm against my skin. "It's like… when you have an idea of something in your head, and then you experience it in real life, and it's so much better."

We lay there together, our bodies still slick with sweat and the remnants of our pleasure. I traced the curves of her back with my fingers, marveling at the way her skin felt under my touch.

"So… what now?" I asked, glancing around the room. "Should we, you know…?"

She laughed again, her cheeks flushing. "Oh, you mean… clean up?" I nodded, and she giggled. "Yeah, we probably should. But first…?" She leaned in, her lips brushing against mine in a teasing kiss. "We should definitely celebrate."

She crawled back onto the bed, straddling my waist this time, and I felt myself growing hard beneath her again. With a smile, she lowered herself, taking me into her wet heat, and began to move in a slow, sensual rhythm that made my head spin.

Her hips undulated against mine, her breasts pressing against my chest, and I could feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge. "You feel so good, y/n…" I moaned, wrapping my arms around her waist. "I could do this forever."

She leaned forward, her breath hot against my ear. "I know," she whispered, her voice husky. "Me too." And with that, she sped up, her hips bucking wildly against mine as she found her own release, her cries of pleasure filling the room.

Our breathing slowed, and we lay together, her weight pressing down on me in the most satisfying way possible. I ran my fingers through her hair, feeling the softness of it between my fingers, and for a moment, all I could think about was how lucky I was to be here with her.

"That was… unbelievable," I managed to get out, my voice still ragged from exertion. "I mean… I've never felt anything like that before."

She laughed, nuzzling her face into my neck. "Me neither, y/n. I don't think I'll ever forget tonight." She kissed me softly, her lips lingering on mine for a moment before pulling back. "But I think we should probably clean up now."

#georg listing smut #georg listing #georg listing imagines #tokio hotel #itsmealaiah #tokio hotel x you #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel smut #tokio hotel fanfic #tokio hotel x y/n

[huneyproses]

Concept: LU all boys meeting their pre-adventure selves (as a chain)

I'm posting in shorter parts than will be posted to AO3.

Part 1/? (Aiming for 20/10)

Note: Switches POV throughout, I am a firm believer in "give them some oddities funny little man" It is explained in this part (with reasonings), but for ease of reading: Soldier -> Warriors Guard -> Wild Rancher -> Twilight Farmer -> Legend Crimson -> Sky Smithy -> Four Traveller -> Hyrule Outset -> Wind Green -> Time

Oh how glad he was to never grow up.

Link placed his hands below himself, giving a small cushion for his tail bones to rest on. The harsh rock of the cave floor had begun an all out war against his rear end with how many positions he had shifted to in an attempt to get comfortable. Oh how he wished to return to the soft cushion of his own bed back in the forest, sleeping till the sun began wain in the sky, and only waking up from Saria’s incessant shouts at the base of the latter. There was always something to be done—always something Link would forget about until she reminded him.

He brought his knees in closer, resting his forehead on them. He really did miss her. Not just her, the whole lot of them. The very forest itself.

They had been trapped in the cramped cave for a long time. He wasn’t fully sure how long, but time felt immeasurable during the tense silence that had preceded the discussion. When they had arrived in the cave, the man that appeared to be a Hylian soldier motioned for immediate silence, only whispering a short “Do not speak” before turning his attention to the gap between the stone. 

Link had assumed, based on how easily the man had commanded authority over the eight that he would be the one to break the silence, but instead it was broken by an all too pitiful yip from the small brunette in a ratty cloak. It was difficult to see with the little light streaming in, but even so the bright red of his cheeks was somehow readily apparent. A few had responded with a chuckle, Link, himself, even let out an involuntary giggle. 

His hushed explanation—“It was a really big spider”—and the muddled, yet frantic apologies made it difficult to not let out another laugh. 

But with the glare the soldier had levelled at them, any jovial atmosphere that could’ve emerged was snuffed out. He had followed it up with a loud sigh, dismissing any sort of plan he may have had with a wave of the hand. And following, the man began his interrogation, citing the need to be familiar with those he would need to fight alongside—and, based on the way his eyes flicked towards Link and the other three younger boys, protect.

It almost seemed like some sort of game they would all play back in the forest. The soldier had instructed them all into a circle. Saria would’ve named the rules, taking charge as she always did. Eventually, halfway through the game, Mido would’ve gotten fed up with losing and have started some dumb argument that somehow was always Link’s fault. They’d fight, kicking and scratching their way through an argument—all before someone threatened to tattle and it ceremoniously ended with forced, muttered apologies. Despite how at-odds Link and Mido seemed to be, Link still found him to be a comfortable constant. He never changed, and his antics could be amusing. Sometimes.

But he wasn’t in the forest, these people certainly weren’t his friends, and going around in a circle naming their names, oc-u-pations (?), and fighting ability wasn’t a game. Link drew his gaze up once again, avoiding the eyes of the older men, looking towards the fidgety brunette. He seemed incredibly downcast after the silent reprimand the soldier had shot them. Without thinking, Link nudged himself a tad closer to the boy. If it was for his comfort, or the boys, Link wasn’t all that sure.

Though, the more introductions they went through, that feeling of defiance and wariness had shifted to befuddlement. Occupations, Link had surmised, meant jobs. That was all fine and dandy; A farmer, a smith's apprentice, a rancher, and quite a few knights. The loud boy didn’t have a job, and the boy beside him called himself a traveller. All the knights seemed confident in their fighting experience, and even a few of the others seemed to have training, which was probably good news, if the loud grunts of the monsters stalking the perimeter of the cave was anything to go by.

But somehow there was something wrong. Something very odd. Each and every boy began their introduction with their name: Link. They were all named Link. It sure surprised Link (himself)—sure, he’d never been out of the forest before, but having 9 people all with the same name, that was definitely odd, right?

Link (him, Link. This was already annoying!), was the last of the group, having refused to speak the first go around, the soldier offered another chance. But, given the pure look of awe mixed with indignation Link gave the man, he simply let out a sigh.

“Right.” Soldier-Link had started, brows knit in a mirrored way as a majority of them, “We…all share a name. That will get confusing quickly.” He crossed his arms, closing his eyes for a moment, “I suppose we can refer to each other via occupation, though a few of you have none…therefore…”

“I will simply assign one.” With a forming smirk and a renewed confidence, Soldier-Link leveled a pointed finger at each Link.

For himself, “Soldier.”

To the stoic boy with a ponytail, “Guard” for his occupation of being a guard for the princess (however dismissive the eye-roll Soldier-Link posed while giving the name—he still gave it).

The boy beside him denoted “Traveller” for simply being such. For a short second the brunette caught Link’s eye, offering a reassuring smile. Link turned indignantly; he was trying to comfort the boy, not the other way around!

The same was true of “Farmer” and “Rancher” and “Smithy”; the former two being older boys. One looked like he could toss Link across the room, another that had a deer in the lantern light look about him. The latter was the younger of the three with relentless strands of tuft out the back of his head that gave a real funny look to him (especially with his contrastingly wise face).

The sickly boy with a weird outfit was nearly coined “Knight'' but was deemed too confusing with the other two. After a moment of deliberation, he offered up “Crimson”, with an explanation cut short by a sudden fit of coughs with intermittent apologies. Rancher gravitated closer, bringing a hand up to his back.

When Himself-Link refused to speak (he began to be unsure if he was doing so because of a lack of trust, some complex, or because he was genuinely frightened), he was called only “Green.”

“And for you—”

“Outset! I’m not anything yet so that makes the most sense since it’s the island I’m from.” The boy with messy hair and bright expression blurted out, “Plus I’d rather not be called, like, lobster.” He gestured to his shirt (The same thing Link was definitely named after), before placing his hand on his hips. He must be proud of one-upping the older guy, Link sure would be.

As if to confirm, the Soldier huffed, “So that was why the air smelled salty.” brushing his hair back, he moved to lean against the wall of the cave. He had opened his mouth to speak before the serious one—Guard—spoke up.

“—We are nowhere close to the sea.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t know exactly where we are but…” He trailed off, bringing his attention to the side of the cave, tracing around the wall to the entrance. “These caves were carved as encampments—as safe havens from the creatures, but also for the possibility of war before…” He trailed off momentarily before continuing, “The entrance is marked. They were only built in certain areas around Hyrule. None are close to the ocean.”

Soldier remained silent, having brought his own gaze towards the slitted entrance of the cave. After a moment, he scoffed incredulously, “You’d think a soldier of the castle would know about safe havens;” challenging Guard, he moved closer, “Lying about something as great as being the Princess’ royal guard when it's so easily disprovable. You’ve sure got some balls.”

Guard remained silent.

Suddenly, Soldier grabbed the collar of Guard’s shirt, lifting the smaller man with discomforting ease, “Stop fuc—” He cut himself off, glancing towards Link, “Stop lying. Who are you? I won't hesitate to throw your sorry excuse out of here if you don’t answer. You’re short, certainly not Sheikah, and not to mention a man, so you’re certainly not her highness’ guard.” 

Guard matched Soldiers vitriolic glare, gripping his arm with a vengeance even Link could tell wasn’t going to end well. Rancher stood from his spot, placing his hand firmly on Soldier’s shoulder.

“You need to calm down man; we can do this later. You’re gonna scare the kids.”

Soldier glanced between him and Guard, taking a deep breath before dropping his collar. He leaned into Guard’s ear and whispered something indecipherable. Turning around he pushed back his hair again, “Weapons. What do we have?”

“I have a sword,” Traveller said, bringing it out into his hands. Guard followed suit, flashing a shiny sword with a purple and green hilt. Compared to travellers, it was stunning. Alluring in a way Link couldn’t understand. It had a triangle with four smaller triangles inside at its base. It was so long it nearly stood at half Guards’ height. It was probably too big for Link to even hold. 

And yet, just looking at it made him feel an indecipherable sense of dread. He looked away, tucking further into his knees.

Soldier had approached Traveller, from what Link could tell, his voice echoing from directly beside him. He had even squatted down to meet their sitting position, “Do you mind if someone borrows it, Traveller? I assure you it will come back—if not I shall purchase you an even better one.”

His voice was deceivingly sweet compared to his earlier disposition, but, even so, Traveller handed it over, if the steps following the exchange were any indication. 

Link turned his head towards Traveller, legs crossed as he focused on the fate of his blade. He hadn’t had a good look at him before, but with their renewed proximity, he got a better sense of the brunette's features. He was definitely close to Link’s age, with girly features and freckles dotting his face. Were it not for his name and clothing, Link certainly would’ve definitely thought him as a girl. He was pretty.

“Green?”

Oh—he hated that nickname, “...You really gave your sword to that guy?” He cursed himself for how pathetic the voice that echoed from him sounded: quiet and frightened with a higher pitch than he swore was normal. Link discreetly cleared his throat.

“Well he’s an adult. He seems to know what he’s doing with it—well, better than I would anyway. It’s mostly just for protection.” He let out a small laugh.

“He’s some adult. You really trust him?”

Traveller blinked, averting his gaze as his smile fell. After a moment, he shrugged, “I don’t have a choice right now.”

“What?” Link sat a bit straighter, furrowing his brows, “Why wouldn’t you? It’s your sword.”

“If I want people to stay safe, it isn’t. I shouldn’t be reckless. These guys work with the kingdom from what they’ve said; they know how to handle a sword better than me. I’d rather have them wielding it.”

“You trust them more than yourself, then?”

“No!” Traveller let out a short laugh, earning a glare from Link, “Sorry, sorry—I don’t mean to laugh at you. Of course I don’t.”

“Then why are you giving them your sword?”

“Um…” His bright expression had all but dissipated, leaving only the trace of a smile as he finally set his eyes back on Link’s. Suddenly, his face seemed a lot older than it had before, “I just think it’s the best thing I can do to keep everyone safe.”

Link crossed his arms incredulously, breaking off the conversation with a discomforted huff. That conversation gave him more questions than answers. He supposed that could just be what Hylians were like—confusing! The guy’s reasoning was dumb. How can you give away your protection for someone else’s and still say you trust yourself more?

Watching the quiet conversation between Soldier, Crimson, and Farmer. Soldier gestured towards them a few times before they both nodded, eventually turning their backs on Soldier and venturing closer. Link spotted Traveller’s sword on Crimson’s back. At least it’d be close to Traveller.

At some point, Outset had also joined the newly formed group, hands lazily laced behind his head. Smithy followed him at a distance, fidgeting with the band on his head.

“We’ll split into two groups.” Soldier started, gaining everyone's ear, “Guard, Rancher and I will get the attention of the monsters. Farmer and Crimson will take the kids east towards some stable that should be there.” Link didn’t miss the distrusting glance Soldier shot Guard before continuing, “It’s a risky plan, but it’s our best chance of getting out of here before night falls and we become stuck without food or water.”

Link glanced at a few of the others. Guard hadn’t offered a readable expression since the encounter with Soldier. Smithy looked uncomfortable, tossing his gaze around the room. Outset had a sour expression, pursed lips in a pout with his gaze towards the cave wall. Rancher looked sceptical, scratching the side of his head with averted eyes, yet spoke nothing in contrast to it. Traveller and Farmer looked worried and uncomfortable respectively. Crimson had placed himself beside a cave wall, head leaned against it with his eyes scrunched closed since Soldier had begun to speak. 

All in all, great plan. 

But it wasn’t as if Link was going to offer anything better; As little as he trusted this Hylian soldier, it wasn’t as if he had a choice. No weapons and no real fighting experience bar practice duels with other Kokiri….

“Alright, we’ll head out on my signal.”

They all shimmied their way toward the mouth of the cave, Soldier remaining just outside the entrance. For a discomforting amount of time, he waited with his right hand palm up. Yet, with the ambient sounds of the birds and unfamiliar buzzing whirring outside, silence had yet to add to it.

Suddenly, his hand moved. Three fingers up—

Two—

One—

“Now!”

#linked universe #lu #linked universe fic #linked universe fanfiction #lu fic #lu chain #lu time #lu warriors #lu wild #lu sky #lu twilight #lu wind #lu hyrule #lu four #lu legend #what if i drew the lineup of the pre-adventure boys #what if i did that. for funsies #for sillies

[dindjarindiaries]

Welcome to my WORKS IN PROGRESS page! Here, you can find details on all the stories I'm currently planning or actively working on. Vote for which works in progress you're most excited for!

main masterlist • last updated: april 28, 2024

SERIES

scarlet trail • din djarin x reader PART ONE Now that you're actually married, you and Din decide to go on a well-deserved honeymoon with your old covers, just to find yourselves caught up in yet another risky mission. → details: This is the sequel to Bloodlust! → progress: 674 words → excerpt: “Are you sure you want to do this?” You look up from where you’ve been applying your makeup to look at Din, though the sight of him instantly makes the selfish part of you regret questioning this plan. His armor will always do it for you, but getting to see him dressed up in tight shirts and tailored pants… that’s something you can get used to again. ↓ take a look at the cover!

senator's shadow • hunter (tbb) x fem!senator (reader) CHAPTER 2 You wrestle with your sudden yet fond admiration for Clone Force 99's leader as you arrive on Eirus. → details: It's time for reader's POV! → progress: Early development

security • din djarin x fem!oc UNTITLED INTERLUDE Astra helps Din through another sleepless night, and the Djarin family spends a day in their home together. → details: This is the first post-season 3 interlude. → progress: 3.021k words → excerpt: Astra only releases Din’s hand when she prepares the caf, though she’s well aware of his gaze burning through her from behind. He won’t take his eyes off her for a long time. He wants to watch her exist, to watch her breathe.

the dawn of starlight • din djarin x fem!oc CHAPTER 3 Camellia is welcomed to Canto Bight with a banquet, and she and Din have a tense encounter. → details: "Tense" has more than one meaning here. → progress: Early development

the mandalorian season 3 (molly's version) • no ships CHAPTER 1 Din Djarin wrestles with the absence of Grogu, the Darksaber, and his broken Creed. → details: Reimagining The Mandalorian season 3 in a novel format. → progress: Early development

Vote for which series in progress you're most excited for!

ONE-SHOTS

untitled hunter one-shot • hunter x reader After Omega leaves for her new adventure, you seek to comfort the one who's sent her off. → details: Old man Hunter let's go everyone → progress: Early development

untitled hunter one-shot • hunter x reader When both you and Hunter fall into Hemlock's hands, your strength is tested like never before. → details: Unfortunately I'm not done writing about this torture scene yet → progress: Early development

so long, my love • din djarin x reader Din can't commit, and you can't settle for that any longer - even if it ruins you. → details: Pure angst right here, inspired by Miss Taylor Swift's "So Long, London." → progress: 768 words → excerpt: And, as much as it hurt you to think about, you wanted to put the man you loved out of his misery. Your own poor heart was secondary to that sentiment.

untitled din djarin one-shot • din djarin x reader You and Din get a little drunk together. → details: This will be entirely fluff, no angst! → progress: Early development

everything i needed • din djarin x reader Din seeks help from your Sorgan host, Omera, to find out how to confess his feelings for you. → details: This is Din's POV on Everything I Wanted. → progress: Early development

spring • frankie morales x reader You spend the spring season falling in love with Frankie. → details: This is the final follow-up to my Seasons one-shot mini-series that I started four years ago! → progress: Early development

untitled hunter one-shot • sergeant hunter x reader Hunter's inhibitor chip activates before he can remove it. → details: Maximum angst... and thus maximum hurt/comfort → progress: Early development

Vote for which one-shot in progress you're most excited for!

PROMPTS

din djarin & hunter inbox prompts • now closed! → details: I'll be writing those that have already been submitted as inspiration strikes → progress: 4 left to go

Vote for which prompts in progress you're most excited for!

#works in progress #dindjarindiaries