#companion piece to the one with silver's pov!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kckt88 · 5 months

Text

Gēlenka Zaldrīzes I

Summary:

Events of Dynasty through Aemond's POV.

(There will be a part II)

Warning(s): Pain, Eye Injury, Suffering, Medical Procedures, Non-Con Encounter & the Aftermath, Swearing, Kissing, Falling in Love, P in V Sex, Lactation Kink, Violence, Child Loss, Suicide Attempt, Fear, Arguments, Death.

Word Count: 5720.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

Author Note: A companion piece to Courtship/Wedding & Consummation/Bath Time/Arrival(s)/Mother & Father/Petitions & Final Tributes/The Hand, The King & The Dragon/Dragonstone/Blood & Cheese/A Time for Grief/ Rooks Rest & the Silver King/The Gullet/Taking of a City/Harrenhal and the Rivers/The Gods Eye/The Fallen Queen/New Beginnings/Ravenous/Don't Leave Me & Another Plane of Existence.

But can be read as a one-shot.

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

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Aemond was laid on his bed weeping, the left side of his face covered by thick bandages.

He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. As if losing his eye wasn’t bad enough, now he had to suffer through the agony of the Maester’s slicing through his eye lid.

The Maester on Driftmark had stitched the wound as best he could, but soon after he’d arrived back at the Red Keep an infection had set in and he’d needed urgent treatment.

Not even milk of the poppy was enough to dull the searing pain he’d felt as the Maester’s blade sliced through his stitches.

It took three of them to hold him down as they went about their business.

His mother had hide her face behind her hands as he begged and pleaded for the pain to stop.

"Prince Aemond's recovery will be long and painful, Your Grace”.

"How many more procedures must he endure?" asked Alicent.

"I'm afraid I cannot say Your Grace. Only time will tell".

Alicent took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"Come now Alicent, the boy needs to rest" urged Otto.

Aemond prayed to the seven that he would not have to endure that agony again.

Unfortunately, the gods were unwilling to answer his prayers as he suffered through another two agonizing procedures before the Maester’s were satisfied.

The scar that bisected his face was red and angry and would forever mar his features, the left side of his face disfigured.

His upper and lower eyelids had been removed completely and the empty hollow where his eye had once been was now a grotesque mess and Aemond couldn’t bring himself to face his reflection.

The eyepatch he had started to wear would often irritate the still healing scar and he would often hide in his chambers or the library to avoid the pitying and horrified stares of Lord and Ladies of the court.

Aemond also had to spend hours relearning the most basic of things because without his eye his depth perception had changed.

He was completely blind to things from the left and would often have to turn his body to see what was going on which frustrated him to no end.

But he was a dragon and he would endure his fate.

On his thirteenth name day, his brother Aegon had dragged him to one of his favourite whore houses on the streets of silk to ensure he was properly educated in the art of pleasing women.

“Come now brother, your betrothed will thank me for this on your wedding night” yelled Aegon gleefully as he pushed Aemond towards a lady much older in her years than he.

The entire act made Aemond feel sick to his stomach, the whore wouldn’t stop touching him and making exaggerated sounds as she moved on top of him.

Afterwards, Aemond ran back to the Red Keep and locked himself in his chambers, it made him feel dirty, and disgusting, he wanted to wait until he was married before he lay with a woman.

Aemond thought of his betrothed and wept, she had been so kind to him when she had lived in the Red Keep, the innocent memories of their moments hiding together in the gardens after she had stolen sweets and honey cakes from the kitchens, were now tainted by the touch of a whore.

Aemond had suffered much at the hands of his brother and those bastard strong boys, but Vaera wasn’t like that. She was kind and generous. She was also one of most beautiful creatures that Aemond had ever seen in his whole life.

The day she’d left the Red Keep and moved to Dragonstone made Aemond feel like a huge hole had been punched through his chest.

His only friend had been taken away from him and now because of his brother he was tainted.

That night as he bathed Aemond scrubbed his skin raw, he wanted to erase every single touch and trace of that old whore and he vowed never to return to the street of silk again.

Aegon of course tried to tempt him numerous times to return to the whore that took his innocence, but he flat out refused and would often hide out in his chambers, until his stupid twat of a brother got the message and left him alone.

Afterwards, Aemond dedicated himself to reading history and philosophy, he trained daily with the sword, and he spent hours flying with Vhagar soaring amongst the clouds.

On his fourteenth name day, his mother had gifted him a sapphire to replace his missing eye.

The stone felt foreign and heavy as it was fitted into the empty socket, but it filled the void and gave the socket some shape and structure.

Of course, he kept it hidden beneath the eye patch, but it made him feel more complete, that it wasn’t just an empty space.

He only had a year before his betrothed would return to the Red Keep and he was determined to be a man worthy of her.

Aegon soured at Aemond’s dedication to his training, but his hard work was beginning to pay off, he grew stronger, more focused, and deadly. His precision with the sword was unmatched.

His brother wasted himself with whores and wine, yet Aemond remained steadfast in his determination to be the best.

Aemond was the luckiest man in the seven kingdoms.

Most people get married for political gain, or even wealth. Very few got to marry for love, yet he was one of the lucky ones and despite only just getting married it was already filled with enough love to burst the seams.

His sweet wife was perfection in human form, she never looked upon him with scorn or disgust, she treated him with respect and reverence, even when he’d confessed to his misadventure on the streets of silk.

She was everything he’d ever wanted in a wife.

But she wasn’t without her own struggles, and when he heard of how lonely she’d been on Dragonstone, his heart broke.

She’d also suffered at the hands of her bastard brothers, and it made his blood boil to know that his sweet girl had been made to feel like she less than nothing.

As long as he was breathing, he would never make her feel like that.

He desired her, worshipped her, and would love her until the end of his days and beyond.

After his embarrassing effort during their initial consummation, Aemond was determined that his wife would enjoy the pleasures of the marriage bed.

After the Maester had departed, he reached for her again.

“That was for duty. Now this is for us. I wish to have you again my sweet wife”.

His hunger for her had been awakened that night, and he was not satisfied until he’d filled her with his seed another three times.

They emerged from their shared chambers very late the next day.

He thought his encounter on the streets of silk would forever haunt him, but what he experienced wasn't love. It was seedy and nothing compared to what he had with his wife and when they lay together, it was pleasurable and made him want her all the more.

He would bed his wife at every given opportunity, sometimes he would catch her in the corridor and take her in secluded alcoves, he would even take her against the bookshelves in the library.

Even the secluded island near the stepstones, they would fly their dragons there and Aemond loved laying in the sand as naked as his name day and have Vaera ride him as though he was an unclaimed dragon.

They’d even taken an impromptu trip to the Kingswood and Aemond delighted in his wife’s laughter as he chased her through the trees on horseback. She had looked so beautiful that day, her silver hair wild and untamed, her cheeks-tinged pink. Aemond had to have her.

Needless to say, his mother was not impressed when they both returned to the Red Keep, looking thoroughly dishevelled. Aemond had torn Vaera’s dress in his haste to remove it, and it was covered in numerous grass stains. Her silver hair had bits of dried grass and dead twigs stuck in it and Aemond’s appearance wasn’t fairing any better, his normally immaculate leather tunic and breeches were splattered with mud and his hair was knotted and unkempt.

Aegon found the entire situation hilarious and almost died laughing when Alicent scolded both Aemond and Vaera for being depraved and warned them both that laying with one another should be confined to the privacy of their bed chambers.

They were ordered to bathe and wash away the filth of their indulgence, and never act like that again. Did they listen? Of course, they didn’t. If anything, it made Aemond more determined to indulge in the pleasures of his wife’s soft flesh.

The day his wife had given birth to his sons was perhaps one of the best days of his existence.

Aemon and Rhaegar, his little dragons.

Becoming a father terrified Aemond, his own father wasn’t exactly a shining example of what a father should be, and he was worried that he wouldn’t know what to do or even how to love his children.

But the moment he held those tiny babes in his arms, he knew he would burn the world for them.

The need to protect these precious little dragons washed over him like a wave, he wanted to be involved with every single aspect of their upbringing.

He would read to them and snuggle them in his arms as they slept.

He would help to bathe them and changed their soiled cloths, his brother teased him and even his own grandsire told him that such things were not befitting of a Prince, but he didn’t care.

He was determined that his children would know his love, and they would grow up knowing that he loved their mother with every fibre of his being.

Aemond would wake in the night and attend to one of the twins as his wife took turns feeding them.

He was in awe of her, it was customary for royal babes to have a wet nurse, but Vaera refused. She insisted on providing their sons with her own mothers milk, and of course Aemond insisted on trying it for himself when his wife welcomed him within her body once again.

He took his time worshipping her mother’s body, her soft curves, and swollen breasts. He would run his fingers slowly along her rosy nipples and delight in her soft gasps and moans as she found her pleasure with him.

The mere thought of his wife moaning his name as he made sweet love to her made his cock harden in his breeches.

She was his heart, his soul, and his reason for existence. Never in his life did he ever think he would ever be so lucky as to call her his wife.

Aegon would often mock him for being soppy and cuntstruck, but he didn’t care. Nothing in the world mattered except his sweet wife and their little dragons.

Speaking of little dragons, the day Aemon and Rhaegar’s eggs hatched was probably one of the proudest moments of his life. The hatchlings Brightfyre and Valaerys were welcomed with open wings so to speak.

Vaera was determined that the tiny dragons would not be chained in the dragon pit and despite some initial fears, she got her wish.

Aemond once asked her why she was so openly opposed to the dragon pit, and she told him that dragons were far more intelligent that people gave them credit for, and they were magnificent creatures that didn’t deserve to be locked up. She was also of the belief that locking them away was stunting their growth.

Vhagar had spent most of her life free of chains and she was the largest dragon in the world, even Cannibal was on the larger side. No other dragons could even compete with the sheer size of Vhagar and Cannibal, so Aemond decided there had to be some credibility to what Vaera was saying. But the council were unwilling to make the Dragon Pit open access. Which broke his wife’s heart, but Aemond was determined that one day he would see her wish granted.

The audacity of his bitch sister to think she can summon his wife and their children to her side at a moment’s notice.

Rhaenyra hadn’t bothered with her own daughter since her wedding day, and she certainly hadn’t come to visit her grandchildren since their birth almost two years prior.

Now because her darling strong bastard was on the cusp of losing his false birthright, she could drag herself to Kings Landing to defend him.

The look on her face when Vaera refused her and stood beside him in the throne room, made Aemond feel all giddy inside, her own actions caused the mess she was in, and it couldn’t have been any sweeter.

Well, it could have been if Vaemond had been successful in seizing the Driftwood Throne, but his father rosed himself from his sick bed and defended the claim of his favourite child and her bastard boy.

The moment his rotting father had lumbered his way to the Iron Throne, Aemond knew it was over. Even when Princess Rhaenys announced the betrothals of her granddaughters to the strong boys, it was done. But Vaemond wouldn’t accept defeat and he lost his head for it.

Daemon swung his sword with precision and ease. Dark Sister sliced through meat and bone like it was nothing, proving to the Lords and Ladies of the realm that were present that he would defend his lady wife and the bastards at all costs.

The family gathering that night was so tense that you could cut the atmosphere with a knife.

Aemond had no desire to break bread with people he considered the enemy.

All he wanted to do was go back to his chambers and fuck his wife into the mattress.

Vaera looked so beautiful that evening. Her supple body covered in the blue silk of her dress and her long silver hair unbound and cascading down her back like a waterfall.

Aemond wanted to bury his hands in his wife’s long tresses as he filled her cunny with his seed.

But alas they both had to sit and maintain the air of decorum and propriety.

Soon the King entered, and everyone rose from their seats as Viserys was carried to the table.

"How good it is to see you all tonight together" wheezed Viserys once everyone was seated.

"Prayer before we begin. May the mother smile down on this gathering with love. May the Smith mend the bonds that have been broken for far too long. And to Vaemond Velaryon, may the gods give him rest”.

"This is a cause for celebration. My grandsons, Jace and Luke, shall marry their cousins, Rhaena and Baela, to further strengthen the bond between our families. A toast to the young princes, and their betrothed" said Viserys.

Aemond felt Vaera’s hand squeeze his thigh under the table, her touch grounding him as his father’s wheezing voice echoed around the dining room.

Aemond hated it, having to sit at the same table as those bastards and play nice.

Of course, Aegon tried to liven things up a little bit, but it didn’t last.

Then Vaera had to leave feast to attend to their son Rhaegar who no doubt wanted one last snuggle before it was time for him to go to sleep.

However, that little strong bastard had the audacity to laugh at him, after everything he’d put him through. All the pain and suffering he’d had to endure.

Sat there smirking and laughing as the roasted pig was placed in front of him.

‘Behold the pink dread’.

“Final tribute. To the health of my nephews. Jace and Luke. Each of them, handsome, wise and strong”

“Aemond” warned Alicent.

“Come, let us drain our cups, to these two strong boys”.

“I dare you to say that again” snarled Jace.

“Why? It was only a compliment; do you not think yourself strong?”.

His mother of course did not take to kindly to his tribute.

Not his fault that his strong nephews were so sensitive.

His mood was rather sour as he marched out of the dining room, he needed his wife. To feel her touch, to know she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

“A-Aemond. What’s wrong?” asked Vaera as he stormed into their chambers.

“Tell me you love me” muttered Aemond as he pulled his wife to him.

“I love you”.

“Tell me you need me” begged Aemond as he lowered his head and pressed his face into Vaera’s shoulder.

“I need you”.

“Tell me you want me” whispered Aemond placing gentle kisses along the column of Vaera’s neck.

“I want you”.

“Hm” muttered Aemond as his fingers began untying the laces of her shift.

“I-I haven’t bathed tonight” said Vaera shivering as the shift slipped from her body, leaving her standing naked.

“I don’t care. I need you. Please” muttered Aemond as he began pulling off his own clothes.

Vaera nodded wordlessly as Aemond kissed her, walking them backwards towards the bed.

His father was dead and now his wastrel of a brother was King.

Perhaps what angered him the most was the doubts regarding his wife’s loyalty.

Sure, she was Rhaenyra’s daughter, but she loyal to him and their sons. He never had any doubt when it came to his wife.

His grandsire had travelled to Dragonstone to deliver terms to his half-sister, but he clearly didn’t trust her so now he had to fly to Storms End and offer his brother Daeron’s hand in marriage to one of Borros Baratheon’s daughters in exchange for his support.

His mother had foolishly let it slip that Jasper Wyle the preening shit had suggested that their own marriage should be annulled in favour of a more beneficial match.

Of course, he did not take to kindly to hearing the news and had promptly seized Jasper by the collar and threatened to slit his throat if he ever dared to make such a suggestion again.

It was only the intervention of both his mother and Vaera that seem to pacify him.

He didn’t want to leave his wife or their sons, but he had no choice.

He had hoped that his meeting with the Baratheon Lord would go smoothly.

How his hope died when Lucerys Velaryon showed up.

Preening little shit had the audacity to try and petition for Baratheon’s support.

Little Luke almost pissed his pants when he showed him the sapphire that had replaced his eye.

Demanding his eye was a spur of the moment thing, as was chasing him through the stormy skies on the back of Vhagar.

It gave him a sense of satisfaction that now it was Luke who was afraid. That the bastard boy was no longer laughing at him.

He could end it, Vhagar could devour little Lucerys Velaryon, and the debt would be paid. But he couldn’t do that to Vaera, even though she wasn’t particularly close to the boy he was still her brother and killing him would do more harm than good.

So, he let him go.

He watched solemnly as the bastards tiny mouse of a dragon disappeared into the clouds.

Vhagar made her anger known, she had grown bored of chasing the little dragon through the skies and Aemond knew better than to ignore his grumpy old girl.

So, he directed her to return to Kings Landing.

He’d secured an alliance with the Baratheon’s and now all he wanted to do was climb into bed with his wife and sleep.

If the birth of his sons was one of the best days of his existence, then the death of Aemon was the worst.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight that greeted him that day.

His wife cradling the lifeless body of their son in her arms.

The utter despair and devastation.

His whole world had just collapsed on itself.

“Our boy. They took our boy” wailed Vaera as she clutched Aemon’s body.

Aemond didn’t know what to do. He felt completely useless.

Following Aemon’s death, his wife had completely shut down.

She’d lost herself to her grief and wouldn’t speak to anyone.

The only reaction she had was when Rhaegar was out of her sight, she would scream like a banshee until he was returned to her.

Rhaegar was also suffering in the wake of his twins death. He had nightmares and would only sleep if he was sandwiched between Aemond and Vaera. During the day, he would hover around his mother, clinging to her skirts as she sat staring into space.

Even though he was grieving for his son and nephew, Aemond had to remain strong, yet inside he was a wreck. He kept waking in the night to ensure that Rhaegar was still breathing, and taking care of Vaera was immensely difficult.

He had to force her to eat and drink, he even had to force her to use the toilet and bathe. It broke his heart to see his once bright wife, withering away into nothing and Helaena wasn’t any better.

It turned out that she had been forced to choose between Jaehaerys and Maelor, and in her desperation she had chosen Maelor only for Blood to slit Jaehaerys’ throat instead and now she couldn’t bring herself to look at any of her children.

The goons who had murdered two innocent children, had been caught and tortured to within an inch of their lives. They revealed that they’d been hired by a whore called Mysaria at the request of Daemon.

'A life for a life'

Jaehaerys for Visenya and Aemon for Lucerys.

It made Aemond feel sick to his stomach that Daemon had arranged for his own grandsons murder, that he’d willingly inflicted that pain upon his own daughter.

Even more so that he was being blamed for the death of Lucerys.

The bastard boy had been alive the last time he'd seen him.

What ever harm had befallen the boy it was nothing to do with him, but people still whispered kinslayer.

The funerals were difficult, his heart had been in his mouth when his sweet Rhaegar requested to say goodbye to his brother.

So, Aemond lifted his son into his arms and took him over to the funeral pyre.

“Geros ilas lēkia” whispered Rhaegar (Goodbye brother).

Aemond squeezed his eye shut at the sound of Rhaegar’s sweet voice.

“Avy jorrāelan” said Rhaegar sweetly (I love you).

Rhaegar suddenly lurched forward and gently placed his stuffed dragon teddy on his brother’s wrapped body.

“So, you’re not alone” muttered Rhaegar as he leaned forward and placed a delicate kiss on his brother’s forehead.

“Come on sweet boy” said Aemond as he carried Rhaegar back to his mother.

“-It’s Princess Vaera. S-She’s going to jump” shouted the young squire as he whirled around and raced out of the council chambers.

“WHAT” shrieked Aemond as he took off running after the squire, ignoring the frantic calls of his mother and brother.

His heart was pounding in his chest as he chased after the squire. Not to their chambers, but to the room where Aemon and Jaehaerys had been killed.

Ser Arryk was hovering near the door softly calling Vaera’s name, seemingly terrified to take another step inside the room.

When he came to a stop at the door, he understood Ser Arryk’s hesitation.

Vaera was standing at the open window, her hands gripping the frame as she teetered on the edge.

“Issa jorrāelagon” (My love).

“Nyke jaelagon naejot ūndegon zirȳla aril” replied Vaera (I want to see him again).

“Nyke gīmigon ao gaomagon, yn daor raqagon bisa” (I know you do, but not like this).

Vaera shook her head and closed her eyes.

“Kostilus issa jorrāelagon” (Please, my love).

“We’re never going to hear his laugh or see his face again” cried Vaera.

“W-We will. In our hearts”

“He made us so happy. Him and Rhaegar” said Vaera.

“We will talk about him, every single day and we’ll laugh, and we will cry. Vaera, no one will remember Aemon like we do”.

“How do I stop this pain? How do I make it go away” sobbed Vaera as she staggered on the edge of the windowsill.

“We deal with it together”

“I-I just want him back. I want him in my arms” wailed Vaera.

“I know you do. But please Vaera, don’t do this. Think about Rhaegar, he still needs his mother” cried Aemond as he motioned for the Kings guard to stay where they were.

He didn’t want to spook Vaera, she was so close to the edge. One wrong move and she’d either slip or impulsively jump.

The Cannibal and Vhagar were roaring ferociously in the distance.

“I don’t know how to live without Aemon”.

“Please, my love. Do not let me also suffer the agony of losing my wife”

“A-Aemond I-I can’t-“

“You are the love of my life, my reason for existence. If you die. I die. I cannot live without you. Please come away from the ledge. Please don’t-“

“I don’t want to forget him” said Vaera quietly as her body shook.

“We won’t. I promise”

She was so close to the edge, one slip and it was over.

Without skipping a beat, he quickly lurched forward, secured his arms around Vaera’s waist, and yanked her back from the window.

Ever since he’d pulled Vaera back from the window, he and Rhaegar were helping Vaera during her darkest of days. They would often curl up together as a family in their chambers and hold one another until the darkness ebbed.

Even though his ashes had been entered into the great sept. Aemond had a special plaque made in the gardens for Aemon. Despite his desire to be just like his father, Aemon always loved the gardens, especially when he would chase after Rhaegar the pair of them would roll on the grass together giggling.

It gave Vaera a sense of comfort, as she would often spend hours just sitting in front of Aemon’s plaque talking and reading his favourite book.

Her other salvation came in the form of Cannibal. Her fiercely loyal dragon who gracefully took to the skies with his rider and flew for as long as they both needed too. Sometimes Brightfyre and Vhagar would accompany them, the dark blue scales of Aemon’s dragon shimmering in the sunlight as he broke through the clouds, chirping expectantly at Cannibal who had no qualms about keeping his hatchling in line as he would often throw a customary snarl in his direction.

But the war between the Greens and the Blacks still raged.

He didn’t want to leave Vaera and Rhaegar, but he had too.

They had laid a trap at Rooks Rest for the Blacks, and nine days later, Rhaenys Targaryen, and her dragon, Meleys arrived above Rook's Rest to aid Lord Staunton.

Vhagar and Sunfyre engaged Meleys in a combined and coordinated attack, which resulted in the death of Meleys and left Rhaenys and Aegon severely injured.

Rhaenys was sent back to Driftmark to recover from her injuries and Aegon was carried back to Kings Landing atop Vhagar.

The heads of Lord Staunton and Meleys were paraded through the streets of Kings Landing in a show of the Greens victory over the Blacks.

After Rooks Rest, Aegon was far too injured to carry on serving the realm as King, so he was chosen to wear the conquerors crown instead.

He fashioned himself as Prince Regent and the Lords bent their knee to him.

But ever since the crown had touched his head, his wife had grown more distant from him.

His duties as Prince Regent kept him very busy and quite often it was late into the night when he would finally return to his chambers, utterly exhausted and desperate to seek the comfort of his wife.

But she would pull away from him and quite often she would sneak out of bed and sleep in Rhaegar’s chambers.

There were days where she would even look at him, much less speak.

Even his son wouldn’t call for him anymore, it used to be his favourite thing to do. Snuggle under the covers at night-time and read Rhaegar his favourite story, but now he called for his mama instead.

He’d even stopped asking him to take him to see his dragon Valaerys, which was a bitter blow as it was something the two of them liked to do together as father and son.

Just when things couldn’t get any worse, Vaera confronted him in their shared chambers, and they had a huge argument.

She accused him of failing in his duties as a husband and father and threatened to take Rhaegar away from him and fly across the narrow sea.

He was livid. How fucking dare she speak to him like that. He had raged at her for what she’d said but then something crazy took hold of him and he kissed her.

They’d not been intimate in some time and just one touch of her lips upon his had reignited that fire in his blood.

He was an animal, untamed and unleashed. All the pent-up anger and frustration just poured out of him as he brutally fucked his wife. His hips relentlessly pounding against hers as he chased his release.

Gods she felt amazing, her warm, wet heat wrapped around him.

She took everything he gave her, screaming his name as she peaked, her cunny clenching his cock so tight as he spilled his seed into her, he was groaning so loud he was sure the entirety of the Red Keep had heard their coupling.

Afterwards when he saw her tears, he was horrified at what he’d done.

He'd never been so rough with her before and he was scared he'd hurt her.

But his sweet wife reassured him that she wasn’t crying because of what they’d just done, she was crying because of what she’d said, the threat she’d made, she didn’t mean it.

His heart broke because he knew deep down it was his own fault, he’d neglected both her and Rhaegar.

The responsibility of the crown had completely taken over his life.

It had to stop. He couldn’t be without his wife or their son.

He had vowed on their wedding day, to love her forever and by the gods he’d meant it.

“Lord Corlys is back on Driftmark caring for my grandmother. Meleys is dead. We should take the dragons and attack the Velaryon fleet. Destroy the blockade and free the Gullet”.

“It’s too dangerous” replied Otto.

“Dangerous for who exactly? If we destroy the blockade, sea born trade will resume. The people of Kings Landing are starving. We need to act now. Otherwise, you’ll have a riot on your hands” snapped Vaera.

“Your Grace if we-“

“-No. The time for sending letters is over. My love please see reason” urged Vaera.

Aemond knew Vaera was right, the people of Kings Landing were starting to get desperate, crime rates were up, and food was becoming scarcer. It was only a matter of time before everything came to a head.

But the idea of Vaera flying into battle on the back of Cannibal filled Aemond with a sense of dread that was incomprehensible. Aemon’s death was still so fresh, as was Vaera’s attempt to end her own life. He couldn’t lose her. Not now. Not ever.

“I-I will take Vhagar and attack the Velaryon fleet” said Aemond firmly.

“You are the Prince Regent. We cannot allow you to take that risk,” said Otto.

“I will not sit behind the walls of the Red Keep and cower like some frightened dog. Vhagar is more than capable”.

“It’s not about Vhagar, it’s about you. All it takes is one stray arrow and that’s it,” said Criston.

“So, I sit here and do nothing” snarled Aemond.

“I could take Cannibal, he’s-“ said Vaera.

“-NO. You will remain here in the Red Keep with our son” ordered Aemond.

“Cannibal is the second largest dragon in the world. Surely you knew it would come to this. We have dragons, we should use them” said Vaera.

“They have dragons as well or have you forgotten” snapped Aemond.

“Caraxes is at Harrenhal with Daemon, Meleys and Arrax are dead. Syrax, Vermax, Moon Dancer and Storm Cloud are the only dragons on Dragonstone that have riders and even they are no match for Vhagar or Cannibal. This is our best chance”.

“The Princess is right,” said Tyland.

“The answer is still no and that’s final” yelled Aemond slamming his fist into the table.

“Your Grace” replied Vaera, before she stormed out of the council chambers, and slammed the door.

After an hour or so, the council meeting ended and Aemond retreated to his chambers, he hesitated slightly before he took a deep breath and opened the heavy wooden door, fully prepared to deal with his wife’s anger upon his entrance.

Ever since their argument, they had decided to be more honest and open with one another and instead of letting things fester they would talk and make time for one another.

But to his great surprise, he was greeted with a warm smile as Vaera lounged on their bed reading a book.

“Your back early”.

“I decided to end the meeting early” replied Aemond as he took of the conqueror’s crown and placed it on Vaera’s vanity.

“Probably for the best, maybe a good night’s rest will clear the mind” suggested Vaera.

“I-I thought you would be angry with me?”

“Why would I be angry?” asked Vaera cocking her head to the side.

“B-Because I wouldn’t let you take Cannibal to destroy the Velaryon fleet” replied Aemond feeling slightly unnerved at his wife’s rather calm demeanour.

“Your decision came from a place of love. I might not have understood that at the time, but I do now” said Vaera sweetly.

“Hm”

“Come to bed husband” said Vaera as she closed her book and placed it on the bedside table.

Aemond watched as his wife, began untying the laces of her shift. Clearly trying to tempt him in the most delicious of ways.

After a stressful day of endless meetings, he needed his wife. He needed to feel her wet heat wrapped around him. He needed to fuck her into the mattress.

He needed her now.

Aemond tore off his clothes and jumped on top of his wife, his desire for her clouding his mind. All that mattered in that moment was the two of them, writhing together, their bodies joined as one.

Hours later, he was fast asleep. Satisfied beyond all comprehension.

He didn’t notice his wife slipping out their bed and pulling on her riding leathers.

Slumbering sweetly as she snuck from their chambers and headed towards her Cannibal, and under the cover of nightfall they took to the skies and headed for the Gullet.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #aemond fic #aemond x original female character #aemond smut #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fic #hotd smut

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bg-brainrot · 2 months

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WHaBFHtLA - Astarion x GN!Reader - Chapter 3: What it Means to Love

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

Genre: Reincarnation, Angst, Mystery, Slow burn

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Canon-Typical Violence

WC: 2.9k words, 3/?? chapters

Summary: Now 29, you're still trying to piece together parts of your past. In particular, what exactly was your relationship with Astarion?

A/N: Spoilers for the Pale-Elf quest end, also an fyi that I didn’t want to just retell the quest, so it focuses a lot more on present-tav looking-in.

Ao3 | [Ch2][Ch4] | WHaBFHtLA Masterlist

Despite your best judgments, you’ve begun acting against your parent’s advice. They’ve told you on more than one occasion, learning too much of your previous lives can lead to heartbreak, to suffering. It can affect the course of your current life in ways that you won’t understand until it’s far too late.

You’d listened for a few good years, of course. But every time you enter a trance into one particular past life, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to it. The previous life in question is, of course, the one where you met Astarion, the silver-haired vampire. So you caved and did what you find easiest in this life: cracked open a book.

General information was surprisingly easy to come by, as you were apparently incredibly famous– saved-the-realm famous.

After finding this out, you’ve taken to calling this life the Hero’s life. You had, allegedly, saved the city of Baldur’s Gate almost two and a half centuries ago, alongside the companions that appear in your memories. Even Astarion, with his snark and sass, seemed to be part of the credited heroes.

As for the vampire in question, that man wouldn’t leave your waking or trancing thoughts, no matter how hard you tried. You’re not sure if you find his persistent appearances annoying or endearing at this point.

You’ve learned a lot about him over the years. Useless facts, like his favorite poetry, his love of embroidery, his preferred wine. One night you spend all four hours of your reverie quietly sitting next to him, tending to your weapons. Every once in a while you’ll think, Surely, there can’t be any more memories with this man? But somehow he will always appear to you again a few nights later.

What bothers you is that so many of them are aimless and mundane, joking, traveling, sitting together. They aren’t helpful, which frustrates you endlessly. The point of your reveries is to help you live your new life, and you’re simply not seeing how these fit in. They certainly feel out of place given the other things you’ve learned of that particular life– the dangers that seemed to lurk behind every corner, the constant feeling of a life on the edge of death.

You also find that, no matter how many times you meet him, spend time with him, you are never certain: were you in love?

It’s a question you aren’t really equipped to answer. You don't suppose you've ever been in love before, and at 29 years of age, it seems a bit too early in your long-lived life to bother. What you do know is that second memory in the woods, it was not love.

It all feels so ludicrously fake until a few moments begin to change your mind. Once, he cries your name, charging into combat to save you. Another night, he quietly holds your hand, surrounded by a world shrouded in shadow. A separate encounter, you expect things to escalate to another desperate attempt to get lost in each other, but instead you lay down together, entering your reveries side-by-side. After these moments, the memories feel like they take a turn: all lingering looks, soft touches and, above all else, real, genuine conversations.

After a while, you’d learned of his time as a vampire spawn under a cruel master. You’d learned of his scars, his family, and his hopes and desires. Seeing the man behind the smile felt like a sucker punch to the gut, to both you and your past-self.

For your past-self’s part, you see them open up around him– certainly more than they have in any other memories. As a result, you learn more about them than ever. They tell him their worries: about facing an incredible evil, about not making it out of the whole ordeal alive. They’re a relatively young elf, they still have so much life ahead of them, and apparently this is all being ruined by a worm in their brain.

As if they didn’t have enough to worry about with that looming over them, each of their companions seems to have their own troubles that seemed to need your attention. You only live their life a few hours every week, and you can’t imagine bearing the burdens that they do– it’s clear that you possessed a strength you can only dream of now. They seem willing to make any number of sacrifices for these people and it makes you feel strikingly inadequate, easily overshadowed by their spirit. If I’d lived through their hardships, you think. Would I be this strong?

After a time, your trances surrounding Astarion turn to more concerning subjects– of devils and profane rituals, of the truth behind the machinations of Astarion’s master, Cazador. Gods, you hate Cazador. Everything you’d learned of that man made you want to meet him and give him his comeuppance. You hope at the very least that your past-self ensured he died without mercy, that the man’s wicked life finally caught up to him.

Tonight, you get your wish.

When your eyes open in your former self’s body, the first thing you notice is Astarion. The pale elf is ahead of you, his back turned, hands clenched in fists at his sides.

The second thing you notice is the amount of worry you feel. Your past-self seems frozen in place with it, and you can feel your body barely resisting the call to jump into action. Not sure what you’re witnessing, you wonder if you’ve stumbled into a lover’s quarrel.

Then you hear his voice. “Do not slouch before me, boy! Have you no respect for yourself?”

You’re certain that the instinctual rage you feel at that voice is something that defies lifetimes. Your past-self is brimming with it, their blood pumping in their ears as they watch the scene unfold before them.

Distantly you register him goading Astarion, Astarion responding with a fury matching your own. Despite the anger burning in both of your bodies, through your very soul, you can’t help but look at the man and balk. Wait, is that him? you think. That’s Cazador? He looks pathetic.

He looks like nothing more than a sniveling aristocrat, a dime a dozen in large cities like Neverwinter. You wish you could take control of your memories and tell him as such. Perhaps you’d spoil his outfit and sneer at him or ruin his standing among the rest of the nobility. More permanently, you’d like you just rain sunlight on him and watch him burn. Unfortunately, you’re only along for the journey, so you watch as your past-self and Astarion confront the man.

“A pity you amounted to so little, despite my efforts,” the man says, his words harsh, his tone belittling. It reminds you of one of your old Evocation teachers. He’d act mighty, tell you all that he’d done for you, then leave you to the wolves come examinations. That man ended up blown to bits in a miscast spell, and you hope you’re about to see a similar fate befall this vampire.

You’re in the midst of your musings when the pale elf recaptures your attention. Astarion’s response is passionate, holding the unfettered hatred of two centuries of torment, “NO. No. Fuck you. And fuck everything you’ve ever done to me!”

The words snap you out of your own thoughts, forcing you to focus on the scene before you. This isn’t for your enjoyment, and the villain isn't here to give you failing marks. Cazador is far crueler than any man you’ve met in your entire waking existence and this is a life or death situation. You suddenly feel so small in the middle of this, woefully out of your depth.

Your past-self is more than prepared for the situation though. They say that you’ll make the man pay, and their voice is colored with a righteous fury that you can only feel second-hand. Your own anger seems petty in comparison.

“I will not speak to cattle. This is between me and the boy.” Cazador sneers as he dismisses your words.

“You son of a bitch!”

Then Astarion is charging at him, your arm is outstretched as if to stop him, but he’s long gone and your fingers grasp at nothing. Dread fills you as you see Cazador stop him in his tracks, a glowing red magic emanates from his staff.

Cazador spits more venomous words at Astarion, all the while bathed in the red glow of the ancient ritual. You can feel your body straining against every impulse to rush forward and attack the vampire lord where he stands. But they hold back, and you can sense that it comes out of concern for Astarion– an odd reasoning in your mind. Surely Astarion would want you to focus on killing Cazador.

Before your past-self decides on a course of action, Astarion is being flung, tossed like a ragdoll across the cavernous room that Cazador calls his lair. You watch, helpless, as magic envelopes him, stripping him down to be a mere component for the ritual.

“No! Stop him! Get me out of this!” you hear Astarion shout.

He’s about as far away from you as the ritual circle will allow, trapped by a flick of a madman’s wrist. So you’re surprised to feel a calmness come over you as your past-self assesses the situation. You’re not privy to their thoughts or considerations, but, having seen so much of their past now, you’re reassured that they will get out of this alive and well. Hopefully with Astarion in tow.

Cazador either doesn’t care about your calm confidence or is simply too self-absorbed to notice. He raises his arms in triumph before beginning the profane ritual, “Witness the birth of the Vampire Ascendent! Ecce dominus!”

All hells break loose as the pact magic of Mephistopheles binds each of Cazador’s sacrifices to sigils on the floor. Several creatures of the night come forth, ready to do the vampire lord’s bidding. Werewolves bear their teeth at you, bats fly up onto the platform, and ghouls flank Cazador on either side. It’s a frightening sight to you, and unlike anything else you’ve witnessed in your memories or life. For once, you’re glad you’re not in control, because you’re not certain your legs would be willing to move.

Defying all logic, the first thing your past-self does is run for Astarion. Past each and every one of these creatures, past Cazador himself– they sprint like there’s no one else in the entire world. Perhaps to them there isn’t. Because you feel it now. You feel adrenaline, panic, fear, but, smothering all the rest with its strength, is pure love.

You hadn’t known what it might feel like, but now that it hits you like a wild Bulette, you can recognize it clearly. It had been there in those small moments, an underlying feeling that never quite reached the surface. Looking back, it’s almost as if your past-self had been trying to stifle it, an unruly bud of emotion that couldn’t be trusted in their fight for survival. Here, faced with the possibility of losing Astarion, there was no use in trying to hold back the flood. And there is no possibility of them leaving this place without him.

“Astarion!” they call out once they reach him. He’s bound by those same red bindings that Cazador used earlier, floating above you.

“Help me!” he cries, and the desperation in his voice is piercing. Your eyes look back and forth, inspecting his restraints in seconds, before you simply grab him and pull.

It’s not the most elegant solution, but it certainly is effective. Astarion falls atop you, and you distantly hear Cazador’s angry shouts. It hardly matters to you now. “Are you alright?” you hear yourself ask him, relief and concern fighting for precedence.

“I’m fine, thanks to you,” he says, lifting himself off the ground. He looks at you, red eyes filled with determination, and your relief wins out. “Let’s go stab that bastard.”

The rest of your reverie is spent in grueling combat. You feel your past-self fight to their limits, fueled by equal parts anger and love. You’ve learned plenty from them in terms of how to fight and what a real fight feels like. But this? This was revenge. It was messy, it was brutal, and it filled you with an odd sense of awe.

After Astarion deals Cazador a near-lethal blow, you think to yourself, thank the gods, it’s over. You reverie didn’t end though, because it was anything but over. Cazador hid into his damnable coffin, Astarion followed, and you watched.

Watched as Astarion tore Cazador out of hiding, threatened him with his own blade, taunted him with his own ritual. Watched as your past-self pleaded with him, tried to assure him that he didn’t need to sacrifice anything to be worthy. Watched as Astarion tried to convince you that this was necessary to be truly free of Cazador.

You could feel your past-self’s emotions, tumultuous as they are, settle on understanding. You don’t understand– how could you, ill-equipped as you are– but you’re glad that they do. They reason with him, try to persuade him to give up on the ritual as only they know how.

Both of you breathe a sigh of relief as he says, “You… you’re right. I can be better than him. But I'm not above enjoying this.”

Then a torrent of emotions you hadn’t realized were being held back finally burst through the dam. As Astarion stabbed Cazador, delivering blow after blow, you felt sorrow, comfort, joy, sympathy… pain. The pale elf cries, knelt before his former master, your former-self weeps with him.

You wake up in tears. You’d been looking forward to Cazador’s demise, but something about it leaves you feeling hollow. You’re exhausted by how utterly out of your depth you had been. It was every bit of your energy to hold on to the memory and bear it witness, all you could do to try to comprehend the hurt that Astarion felt.

Despite being out of your reverie, a deep pain in your chest remains. You’re not sure you’ve ever felt this before, but you’re nearly certain that this is what heartbreak feels like. It’s almost as if his pain was your pain. Seeing him break down like that was akin to you breaking down, and even now, the tears keep spilling.

You don’t like to admit when you’re wrong, and you’d like to believe that that happens rarely enough that it doesn’t matter. However when it comes to this man, you might need to admit that you didn’t always have enough context to make judgements.

Now that you do, you understand your past-self more than you expect. They were willing to sacrifice anything for him, put their life on the line for him. Something about Astarion makes your heart race, your mind spin, and your very soul weep. What it is about him hardly matters, what matters is that your past-self is trying to push you toward him and for the first time, you think you’d like to listen.

You’d like to begin even more extensive research. This time not about who you were, but about what happened after the events at Baldur’s Gate– More importantly, what became of Astarion after this. You’re too far from Baldur’s Gate to properly investigate or understand what’s mere myth or actual history, however you do know that, as a vampire, he wouldn’t die of natural causes. You’ve yet to dream of his death, so he could very well still be alive.

I should at the very least find out what happened to him, you think. Another, more sensible side of you thinks, Wait. You don’t even know how this life ended. Things could have ended poorly between you, he may even have killed you himself.

Even if you did find him, even if he did love your past-self, you also know that it’s not you who he knows or would care to see. Despite all of that logic, a dangerous, near-taboo thought comes to you, Should I just go find him?

You’re still young though and you understand that this is likely a foolhardy idea– that the exact thing that your parents have warned you against is happening right now. So you decide to consult with them before you make any decisions.

They indulge you a bit, willing to help you with some research, encouraging you to maybe even write a letter if you find the right words. However, they come with a clear warning: no good will come of it if you meet with anyone from a former life. You’re not the same person. It’s been decades, maybe centuries since they’ve last seen you, and they may not be the same person they once were. Don’t ruin your current life by chasing a previous one. Don’t go to Baldur’s Gate.

You nod, figuring that they’re correct. They have centuries of experience, seen countless elves go through what you’re going through. This is only sound, mature advice. That advice carries you for quite a while, staying your hand when you go to practice a divination spell or when you think to seek a teleportation circle to Baldur’s Gate.

However, after decades and decades of dreaming of this man, you find your will wavering, crumbling into dust. One reverie in your 99th year of life finally breaks through the last of your resistance.

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion masterlist #gn reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion baldurs gate #bg3 astarion #when he's all but forgotten how to love again #whabfhtla #reincarnation trope #elf!tav #astarion x you

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sha-bae · 1 year

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The Knights Pet

Chapter Seven

Vicruls POV

I waited patiently in the common room for my pet to return from her lesson, the sound of cardo taking apart yet another non functional weapon he planned to rebuild the only sound occupying the space. I kept myself busy bandaging up a new wound I acquired in training that day, courtesy of Kuruk who still seemed to be a bit upset over the whole companions situation. He would soon get over it, or at least I hoped.

The sound of loud footsteps followed by the patter of much smaller bare feet running to keep up grew louder and closer until the girl and Ap'lek came into view. "I've been called to a meeting with Ren. Goodbye, pet." He spoke as he pried her hand from his, pushed her in my direction, giving her one last gentle pat on the head before he stalked off towards the throne room without another word.

The girls eyes fell upon my injury, sympathy and sorrow taking over her features as she rushed to me. "Hurt?" She questioned, kneeling at my feet, her hands setting themselves gently on my thighs as she looked up at me fondly. I chuckled at her concern and shook my head. "I'm fine, pet. It's only a flesh wound. It will heal." I assured her, taking hold of her face as I admired her sweet features. She didn't seem to believe me, pushing my hands away before taking hold of my arm and examining the dressing with furrowed eyebrows.

The night prior hadn't been an eventful one. The poor thing had fallen asleep before I had even finished disrobing, her body curled into a ball on the couch as soft noises escaped her. I had thought about moving her to my bed but decided against it, thinking it best to let her sleep where she pleased.

I had quickly taken notice that she had somehow managed to steal a fork from the dining hall, the silver object clutched in her hand as she happily snuggled herself deeper into the sofa. My little thief. I grabbed a blanket from my bed, draping it carefully over her sleeping form before retreating to my bedroom.

I was brought back to reality by the feeling of the girls warm lips meeting my shoulder, leaving a trail of soft kisses around the damaged area. With each touch she was careful to not push to hard, not that I would have complained even if she had. All this over a tiny cut. Stars, I couldn't even imagine what she was going to be like when she saw us coming back from a mission.

"Happy?" She asked, tilting her head as she awaited my answer. I chuckled, nodded down at her. "Yes, pet. Thank you." She smiled seeming content with her work before she pushed herself off the ground. Her gaze moved to Cardo, the sound of his tools clanking loudly against one another catching her attention. He seemed to be agitated, huffing in annoyance as he tossed away a spare piece, the object meeting the floor with a loud thud.

I watched as she made her way over to him, picking up the piece of metal along her way. She took a moment to examine it before she spoke. "I help." Without hesitation she moved herself to Cardos lap, the man immediately tensing as she perched herself on his thigh. It was clear that he didn't know how to react to her, staying stark still as she leaned herself over his work.

She pulled at the wires he had been tinkering with, the action causing him to grimace, surly thinking that she had completely ruined his project and he would need to start from scratch. Her tongue poked out the side of her mouth in concentrated as she worked. She twisted cables together, moved pieces from one side of the device to the other, and screwed the metal piece that had once occupied the ground back into the weapon.

Suddenly the sound of the machine activating echoed through the room, the hum of energy seeming to satisfy the girl, a smile spreading over her features as she turned to face the knight. Cardo sat with a look of shock on his face as he realized she really had fixed it, all by herself without any help from him. "How'd you do that, pet?" He interrogated, picking up the object and inspecting it for any discrepancies.

"I help. Welcome." She nodded, her broken basic making me laugh. She climbed under his arm to remove herself from his lap, giving him one last smirk, as if she was mocking him for thinking she was incapable of such a task. She scampered back to me, looking quite proud of herself, smiling as I took her into my arms.

"Smart girl, where'd you learn such a thing?" I praised, a blush coming to her cheeks at my words as she nuzzled herself into my neck to avoid my gaze. The sound of Kylo, and the rest of the knights making there way into the room caught my attention, a fleet of stormtroopers following loudly behind them in formation.

"We've gotten word of a resistance base on the planet Prine." Kylo spoke, vocoder distorting his every word. "Prine?" The girl questioned, the word seeming familiar to her from the way she lit up. "Prepare yourselves and the girl. We will departing within the hour." Ren finished turning to lead the troops to the bridge. He stopped in his tracks looking back at us over his shoulder, his masked face giving the girl a once over. "Find her something else to wear. And put some shoes on her for stars sake."

#supreme leader snoke #knights of ren #knights of ren smut #knights of ren x reader #kylo #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #ren #kylo fanfic #kylo ren

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heartensoul · 10 months

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Heartensoul's Stories Post

Post last updated: 3/31/24

This update:

Removed stories I’ve abandoned.

Current WIPS

Colleges and Copiers: Kakashi/Sakura, AU, G - Dr. Kakashi Hatake, Dean of the School of Engineering and Konoha University’s most successful current dean, suddenly had a new issue that took up his time. Namely, for the first time in his career as an administrator, he had some worthy competition for Konoha University’s best and brightest students. Dr. Sakura Haruno was whip smart, beautiful, an attentive dean, and had an immaculate reputation. In the semester and a half that she had been Dean of the School of Medicine at Konoha University, they had seen a 150% increase in applications to the medical school, and a 30% increase in majors in their undergraduate programs switching to pre-med. Status: Active. 3/5 chapters posted.

No Good Deed: Kaka/Saku, Sasu/Saku, E for non-con, sexual content and other warnings - Kakashi had given Sasuke so many chances to make it right—to do right by Sakura. Now, he was going to take matters into his own hands. Status: Acitve. 1/5 chapters posted.

Completed Works (organized in alphabetical order by fandom)

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Reconciliation: Zuko/Katara; M for some sexual content - Everyone’s getting sick at the Air Temple. Katara needs to chill in more ways than one, and Zuko gets a clue.

Redemption: Zuko/Katara; T - A small, introspective piece of Katara's thoughts when Zuko shows up at camp.

Gundam Seed

Snow: Athrun + Lacus, Implied Kira/Lacus; G - Athrun takes the time to do what he feels he does best when it comes to Lacus: observe her in quiet contemplation. There was always something to learn from watching her, and warmth that was felt when in her presence, even from a distance.

Gundam Wing

The Art of Diplomacy : Heero/Relena, Quatre/Trowa, prompt fic for the Wing0 2021 challenge; G - Quatre and Relena get snowed in during a conference, and Quatre saves the day.

The First Noel: Heero/Relena; G - Heero, Relena, and the first Christmas of real peace.

Food for Thought: Heero/Relena; Duo, Quatre, Trowa, Hilde; T - Food for thought: How did Heero Yuy masturbate?

Happy Endings: Heero/Relena, pledge for @church-of-lemons 2022; E for brief sexual content. - Relena found Heero resting comfortably, the late afternoon sun shining through a nearby window highlighting the streaks of silver in his hair and glinting off the reading glasses that sat on the small table beside him. She took a few moments to admire his attractiveness in rest, and he must have felt her lingering gaze. She watched as he began to stir, his eyes opening to settle on her standing in the doorway.

Heero Yuy, Perfect(ly Sick) Soldier: Heero/Relena, prompt fic for the LR secret santa exchange; G - Heero gets sick during his and Relena's first Christmas together. He keeps trying to help decorate despite Relena's protests.

In Time Series:

In Time: Relena-centric, Heero/Relena implied; G - She captures images and collects them within the scrapbook of her mind for safe keeping, to be pulled back up to the surface on a tough day at the office or when loneliness crept up during a tour. They are her beautiful reminders: This is what she works so hard for. This is why she keeps on fighting. For them. At Rest: Heero/Relena, Quatre/Trowa, Duo/Hilde, pledge for @church-of-lemons 2021; M for some sexual content - It's been three and a half years since Relena's last exchange with Heero. As she navigates her new role as citizen, she also has to figure out how Heero fits into her new life. | Story Playlist Among the Aurora: Heero/Relena, prompt fic for the Wing0 2021 challenge; G - A small companion piece to “At Rest”, from Heero’s POV. Heero takes in the morning and Relena's smile.

Meet Your Maker Series:

Meet Your Maker: Heero/Relena, Duo/Hilde, Minor hints of Duo + Relena, prompt fic for the Wing0 2021 challenge; G - Relena, Heero, Duo, and a coffeeshop called “Meet Your Maker.” Under a New Sky: Heero/Relena, pledge for @church-of-lemons 2023, M for some sexual descriptions - Relena and Heero head to Zimbabwe to surprise her father for his 60th birthday. While there, Heero shows Relena the sky he gazed at every night while on deployment.

My Favorite Mistake Series:

It’s Not Like It’s Love: Duo/Hilde, Heero + OC female (not romantic); T - Brothers Duo Maxwell and Heero Yuy try to wade through difficulties in their life after the sudden death of their father. While Duo spends his time partying and hooking up with girls, Heero tries to balance work, bills and college. Things begin to take a turn when Duo meets a slightly older woman who isn't interested in what he's offering...Story 1 of 3. Originally written in between 2001-2004. Reposted but unedited. My Favorite Mistake: Heero/Relena, Duo/Hilde, Quatre/Trowa; T - While things begin to improve for Duo, Heero's life is still a web of stress and trying to make ends meet. While interning at a high school for one of his college courses, he meets high school senior Relena Peacecraft, and his life becomes even more complicated. Story 2 of 3. Originally written in between 2001-2004. Reposted but unedited. Damning Allegations: Heero/Relena, Duo/Hilde, Quatre/Trowa; T - Four years have passed since Heero and Relena's relationship began, and they are now married with an infant daughter. Duo and Hilde are still a couple, but their progress seems stalled. Meanwhile, Quatre and Trowa move into a new neighborhood in hopes of a peaceful life together. All seems well at first, but challenges await all three couples as impatience and distrust begin to settle between each other and outside forces. Story 3 of 3. Originally written in between 2001-2004. Reposted but unedited.

Raspberry Lemon Cupcake: Heero/Relena; G - Relena's stuck at an embassy during a snowstorm and all she wants is a Valentine's Day cupcake. And maybe a visit from someone in particular.

Santa Yuy Fights with Christmas Lights: Heero/Relena; G - Heero makes for an interesting picture: standing in the soft snow in a lighter jacket than her own and lacking any of the other apparel, a tangle of wired Christmas lights wrapped around his body.

Sunday Afternoons: Heero/Relena, Trowa; G - Heero endures a Sunday afternoon without Relena with Trowa’s help.

Kyou Kara Maou

Bedtime Stories: Conrad/Yuuri, Wolfram + Yuuri, Greta; G - What starts out as just another evening story time may change everything.

Coming Home: Gisela/Adelbert, Conrad/Yuuri; G - With Dai Shimaron's signature added to the treaty, an ancient and intense grudge between the two countries would end, and peace was one step closer to being attained.

On this particular eve though, there was more than one grudge being laid to rest.

Degrees of Devotion: Conrad/Yuuri; multiple ratings - A collection of Conrad/Yuuri ficlets written throughout the years. Warnings in each section where needed.

In the Endless, Faraway Sky: Multiple pairings; T - A collection of short fics surrounding different characters and pairings from the series. Originally written for contests on livejournal over a decade ago. Pairings and warnings in each chapter note.

Knit Two Together: Conrad, Gwendal; G - Conrad, always believing his older brother hated him because he was the son of a human, welcomed the strange new attention, though it came with a loss as well.

Lessons: Yozak/Yuuri, Implied Yozak + Conrad, Implied Yuuri + Conrad, Implied Wolfram + Yuuri; E for explicit sexual content - Yuuri finally acts like a normal, hormonal male and gets a little help from someone whom he deems “safe.” Both learn a little bit along the way.

The Morning After, or Yuuri Should Never Consult Movies When Trying to Keep His Love Life Intact: Wolfram/Yuuri; T - Yuuri learns a valuable lesson about Omen Eggs.

Moving On: Wolfram/Yuuri, Yuuri/Fluurin, Murata; G - Wolfram prepares himself for Yuuri's wedding.

The Pain of an Echo: Conrad, Wolfram; G - Because Conrad was young and rather inexperienced in the ways of sensitivity, he blurted out his heritage to his younger brother without a thought of consequence.

Pariah: Yozak/Yuuri; T - Shibuya Yuuri, the 27th Maou of Shin Maou, was on a mission of the highest caliber: Find Yozak Gurrier.

A Return to Healing: Gisela/Adelbert, Adelbert/Julia; G - Upon his return to his homeland, Gisela gives the support Adalbert needs to try again.

Satisfaction: Wolfram/Yuuri; M for some sexual content - Yuuri's being shy, and Wolfram offers a hand.

Shadows and Sheets: Conrad/Yuuri, Wolfram + Yuuri; M for some sexual content - Set eight years after the end of season 2. Little has changed about Shibuya Yuuri other than the effects of Time and the lessons It has taught him. Yuuri has grown up, and he has learned how to compromise. He has also learned the different ways in which a person can compromise; what he himself has come to compromise and why. This is a story about choices.

We Could Be Heroes: Conrad/Alford; M for some sexual content - A young, naïve Alford cannot not understand Yozak’s words of warning: “One day you will tire of seeing it.” But there is nothing tiring or anything even remotely negative about Sir Weller’s smile, especially when it is directed at him. A collection of ficlets for one of my favorite alternate pairings, Conrad/Alford.

Your Stupid Mouth: Yozak/Conrad; M for non-consensual elements and sexual content - Yozak confronts Conrad in his cell [Episode 41 added scene.]

My Hero Academia

An Unexpected Visitor: Implied Eraser/Mandalay; G - Mandalay pays Eraser a visit in the hospital.

Cat Who Got the Cream: Eraser/Mandalay, pledge for @church-of-lemons 2022 and Week one of @rarepairplay 2022; E for explicit sexual content. - The outfit was completely illogical for fighting: short skirt, midriff completely exposed, giant paws on her hands—there was even a stupid tail. It was beyond ridiculous. But there was something about that bell at the base of her throat that entranced Eraserhead when Mandalay walked by, and he hadn’t been able to look away since—not even he saw the rest of her team wore a similar costume.

Eraserhead and Mandalay meet and are instantly drawn to each other.

Naruto

All In a Day’s Work: Kakashi/Sakura, submission for @church-of-lemons 2023; E for explicit sexual content - Kakashi eavesdrops on Ino, Sakura, Tenten and Hinata swapping stories about their partners' best attributes.

An Onsen Experience: Kakashi/Sakura, E for explicit sexual content. - Sakura tells a lie about Kakashi to a group of women and it comes back to haunt her.

A Product of Pleasure: Hinata/Fugaku; E for dub con and sexual content - The Uchiha family needs heirs and an alliance with the Hyuuga family. Unfortunately, both Itachi and Sasuke are happily gay and attached. Fugaku steps in to breed Hinata instead.

Back in the Game Series:

Back in the Game: Kakashi/Sakura, Sakura/OC, Tenten; E for explicit sexual content and mildly dubious consent - A newly-divorced Sakura’s ready to break the agonizingly long dry spell she’s lived in since Sarada’s conception and step back into Konoha as a single woman. A lack of perceived attention on her first night out has Sakura feeling rejected, but by the end of the night she learns things aren’t always what they seem. Back in the Game: Three's Company: Sakura/Ino + Sai; E for explicit sexual content. - Ino talks Sakura into sharing an evening with her and Sai.

Boredom's Barbells: Tenten/Temari; T - Tenten is bored, Anko is annoying, and Temari just wants to complete some piercings.

From Sea to Desert: Kakashi/Sakura; T - Suddenly, a well-worn argument about time and their future together tips into a territory that would make it their last morning together for a long, long time.

The Candy Jar: Kakashi/Sakura; various ratings - A collection of previews and microfic from Tumblr/Twitter prompts or random ideas that don't currently have a home. All posts could become longer stories (and some have).

Chopping Firewood: Yamato/Sakura, submission for @multisaku-advent-calendar's December 2022 event; E for explicit sexual content - Sakura is going to get Yamato-taichou’s attention this time.

Chronic Condition(ing): Kakashi/Sakura; E for rape/non-con - Again. How could this have happened again? He had been so careful to work late and to avoid her favorite social spots so as not to frighten her. Clearly, that hadn’t been enough.

An inspired continuation of Tea's (You Give Me) Fever. All ideas were not run by Tea, so it shouldn’t be considered the official sequel.

Covet: Naruto/Sakura; E for explicit sexual content. Warning: Adultery. - Sakura joins Naruto at work one Christmas Eve, and it devolves into the start of something dangerous and thrilling for both of them.

Coffee 'Verse Series:

Coffee ‘Verse Reader’s Guide: A timeline order for the chapters and oneshots related to “Caffeine Cold” and “Coffee’s for Closers." Caffeine Cold: Kakashi/Sakura; M for some sexual content - A story always has two sides. Kakashi's point of view before, during, and after "Coffee's for Closers". Shizune, assistant to both the former Godaime and current Rokudaime Hokage, was taking a much-deserved two-month vacation. That left an important vacancy in the ranks: Who was going to keep the Hokage in line during her absence? It was a question that seemed to have only one answer: Haruno Sakura. | Story Playlist Coffee's for Closers: Kakashi/Sakura, T for sexual references - Shizune, assistant to both the former Godaime and current Rokudaime Hokage, was taking a much-deserved two-month vacation. That left an important vacancy in the ranks: Who was going to keep the Hokage in line during her absence? It was a question that seemed to have only one answer: Haruno Sakura. | Story Playlist Touch: Kakashi/Sakura; E for explicit sexual content - Kakashi wasn't joking when he said Sakura would have to lead. Duty Calls: Kakashi/Sakura; E for explicit sexual content - Six months after the conclusion of "Coffee's for Closers" and "Caffeine Cold." Kakashi and Sakura discreetly maneuver being together while outside of Konoha, and Kakashi's impatience gets the better of him. What's Good for You: Kakashi/Sakura; T - As more of the general public learns of their relationship, as it becomes less breaking news and just another part of Konoha’s daily life, she hears the sentiment more often: how good she is for their Hokage, how wonderful it is that there’s someone looking after him after all this time.

Cut the Bull: Kakashi/Sakura, submission for @kakasakuexchange 2023; T - Sakura tells her new boss she has a dog to gain favor, but that blows up in her face when she has to host a work party at her apartment. Now she has to find a dog to borrow in her new city with little time and no personal resources to fall back on. Hopefully, Kakashi’s Canine Training & Adoption Center will have just the dog she needs.

The Falling Petals of Spring: Sakura + Lee; G - Lee finally asks Sakura to the Hanami festival.

The Ghosts We Keep: Sakura, Tsunade; G - As the months ticked by and Sakura grew to know her master better, she watched with a mix of awe and horror: the woman was a paradoxical force of nature. She was whip-smart, terrifyingly strong and no nonsense about her leadership, yet the woman actively engaged in ridiculous vices and could offer up a smile that held all the sadness in the world.

I Got You Something: Naruto/Sakura, submission for @multisaku-advent-calendar‘s December 2022 event; E for explicit sexual content - Naruto gives Sakura her Christmas present early, and they quickly break it in.

Healed with a Kiss: Kakashi/Sakura, Pro Heroes AU, written for @kakasaku-week-2023 Day 2; G - Sakura’s goal was to finish her three-year transfer at Musutafu with little fanfare, then return to Okoyama and working in the field.

And then came Kakashi.

Now Comes the Night: Sakura, Kakashi, Gai; T Warning: Major character death - Tsunade used to tell her that in times of war, medics shouldn’t waste their chakra “beautifying the dead,” as she had callously called it. Their job was to heal the living; that was how medics best protected the village. Sakura knew, logically, that as the battle waged on just beyond Konoha’s gates, there would be others who would sorely need her chakra reserves to heal their wounds. Her assigned role in this battle had been to preserve her power for those who needed it.

She did not give one solitary fuck.

Pink: Sakura/Sasuke, Kakashi; M for mentions of sex trafficking - At first glance of the report, Sakura wasn’t clear on why this large group of children was transported all the way from Suna to Konoha. Sex trafficking of minors, unfortunately, was a problem within all five nations.

Sakura learns about near-misses. Prompted: Kakashi/Sakura, T - One-shots in response to various prompts. All rated G or T.

Swimming in Artificial Sweetener: Kakashi/Sakura, written for the #kakasakuvday 2022 event; G - Kakashi interrupts Sakura's very busy schedule for help with a Valentine's Day dilemma.

Something to Talk About: Kakashi/Sakura; G - The evolution of Kakashi and Sakura's courtship through the eyes of those closest to them.

Turnabout is Fairplay: Kakashi/Sakura; E for explicit sexual content - Kakashi doesn't play fair, and Sakura is not one to easily forgive.

Unwrapping Gifts: Kiba/Sakura, submission for @multisaku-advent-calendar‘s New Year’s Eve Event 2023; E for explicit sexual content - Sakura may act annoyed, but Kiba knows better.

Wake-up Call: Kakashi/Sakura, pledge for @church-of-lemons 2022; M for sexual content - Kakashi and Sakura end up leaving Naruto’s inauguration party together, but Sakura’s overindulgence leaves her lacking some details the following morning. While Kakashi reminds her, Sakura shares a revelation as well.

Where One Belongs: Kakashi/Sakura, Past!Kakashi + Rin; T - This had to be a nightmare her twisted mind conjured up in order to waylay her with insecurity when she had no time to deal with it. That’s what Haruno Sakura kept telling herself, and yet a very adult, very beautiful, and very alive Nohara Rin was still standing in her office.

Where Love was Born: Naruto/Sakura; M for some sexual content - Naruto and Sakura return to where it all started.

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m3rricat · 2 months

Text

You Do Not Have To Be Good - Ch. 8

Story summary: Four months after the defeat of the Netherbrain, Astarion finds himself stuck in the mire of his past and all the anger and despair that comes with it. While wrestling with her traveling-companion-turned-lover’s misery, Cat makes an impulsive decision that sets off their first falling-out. This post-game short story is told alongside the full in-game story of the evolving relationship between Cat (the not-a-bard) and Astarion (needs no introduction) which varies from canon. Told from both POVs.

Chapter Masterlist

Chapter 8: Cat plays Astarion a song; then, a rat chase in the sewers.

Pairing: Astarion x female Tav

Chapter Content Warnings: violence against a teenager

Word Count: 4098

Read on AO3

A/N: Soooo definitely the silliest most self-indulgent chapter, but I think it's cute! Reminder that this is not canon compliant for purposes of fun.

The problem with volunteering one’s services to freeloaders is that the work was never, ever done.

They had murdered their way across these cursed lands. Had murdered all the cutthroats at Moonrise, then had gone on to murder Ketheric and afterwards, murdered him again as a gods-damned avatar of Myrkul. But when they had emerged from the caverns of viscera coated in viscera, they had been greeted by a somewhat sheepish Halsin and a crowd of refugees on top of the ruined tower.

Oh there had plenty of cheering, tearful thanks, all that. But, despite the fact they had dislodged what was supposed to be the final anchor of Shar’s curse, the land still very much appeared… cursed. And that is precisely what was happening, according to Halsin. The curse would begin to dissipate now. Slowly. How slowly? Oh, he did not know. These things were not common occurrences, after all. Might take a week. Might take a decade. And then he was looking at them sheepishly again, and opening his mouth, and—

“I’ll do it.”

Astarion turns abruptly at his lover’s hoarse croak.

To his left, Cat slumps where she stands. She looks magnificent, in a gore-smeared, death-warmed-over sort of way. And she is glaring at Halsin. Everyone shuts up for a moment, as if they can’t quite believe what they just heard.

“Cat, you—you don’t have to do this alone. To clear out the curse will take a concerted effort,” Halsin sputters at last.

“An effort I can do myself. I want to get this over with and get some gods-damned sleep. Now all of you—go on. Get.”

Cat has her arms akimbo as she shoos the crowd off the top of the tower. Astarion wonders at the fact that no one is putting up much protest—but that is her power. Persuasive even when she’s channeling someone’s ornery grandmother telling small children to get the hells out of her kitchen.

Her eye catches his as she drives away the rabble, and he is hit by the sudden strong feeling that she doesn’t mean for him to join them. So he stays conspicuously by her side until the last of them shuffle off down the stairs.

“Darling, are you quite alright?”

“Of course not,” she says tiredly, without turning. “But this needs to get done.”

“Hardly by you. You don’t owe anyone anything else by this point—”

She turns to him. “I’m not doing it for them,” she says quietly. Then she immediately returns to business. “Now—I just need you to sit… ah, here,” she says briskly, lightly guiding him by his elbow and escorting him over to what looks like the remains of an inner wall of the tower, short enough to sit on. Astarion sits as directed, feeling rather bemused.

“Dearest, are you going to explain a bit? What role am I playing here?”

Cat sets down her violin case and goes about marking a large magic circle on the pale flagstones with the soot from a half-burned piece of wood as she talks, punctuating it here and there with powdered silver from her satchel. “I’m going to purify the remaining magic by creating a…siphon, more or less. Something like this—loose magic that just needs to be purified, that’s something I can do pretty easily on a large scale. I just need enough positive emotion.” She talks briskly, straightening up from her last demarcation as she finishes. She drops the wood and goes to fetch her violin. As she takes it out, she turns back to Astarion. “I don’t need you to do anything. I just… need to be able to feel you nearby.” She drops his gaze almost like she’s embarrassed.

Astarion smiles inquiringly. “You need an audience?”

“Um. No. I need you for… the positive emotion I mentioned.” He still looks slightly confused. She sighs. “You’ll help me concentrate the emotion because… because you’re my inspiration for this piece,” she says quickly, stumbling over her words. Oh yes, her face is indeed turning red under the dried spatters of various filth. But Astarion can’t talk, because he’s feeling his face heat up slightly too. Which is no small feat to do to a vampire.

All the quips that spring to Astarion’s mind die on his lips. He honestly doesn’t know what to say. For someone as jaded and pessimistic as him, the incredibly romantic idea of being Cat’s muse makes him feel funny inside. In the end he just sits up straighter. Tries to smile in what he hopes is an encouraging way.

Cat flashes him a slightly queasy smile before bringing the violin to her chin. She takes a second to tune but is ready almost immediately. She closes her eyes, bow poised above the strings, and it feels as if the murky world around them is holding its breath.

Astarion is waiting for Cat to play to hear music, but a sound starts even before she strikes a note. So quiet at first he thinks he’s imagining it, but it’s there, seeming to come from everywhere. Soft, sweet, and eerie, a sound almost like an orchestral section of strings growing gradually louder. A faint silvery glow begins to emanate from the circle. Astarion is staring at Cat, knowing she’s doing it but no idea how, when she herself begins to play. Wistful and dreamlike. That’s how she starts, wending her way through with a sound as clear as crystal.

Yes, Astarion isn’t wrong—he can hear sounds reminiscent of various instruments—slightly alien, but familiar enough. It is the Weave around them responding, harmonizing. Transforming. Around the circle, the haze of magical energy is changing. Coming into the circle, into where Cat plays, it is concentrated shadow. But coming out—it’s clear. Light.

But those observations are barely registering in Astarion’s mind because he can’t tear his eyes or ears away from Cat, half-obscured in shadow. This music—he can’t pin it down. It’s more sparse than a typical orchestral piece, but no less powerful. She flits from major to minor harmonies, from firm statements to questing, desperate runs. The orchestral Weave comes and then it goes for a long stretch where it’s just Cat playing with her heart bared in a desperate, aching tone. He feels the scraping of her bow vibrate in his chest.

He can also feel her through the massive amount of magic energy she is filtering. He’s felt her through the tadpole and through her blood—the former a sharp, painful jolt; the latter, all-consuming intoxication. This sensation of her feels like her feather-light touches when she studies him tenderly. He lets his other senses release, lets himself get lost in it. His breath hitches as he falls farther into the vortex of sound. He can feel her playing as if he is in her. In her mind. The unconscious impulses in her brain driving such complicated action are overwhelming to him. But that’s just in the background of her brain. At the foreground—she is pushing her limits, pouring everything into phrasing both delicate and brutal, wrenching out every ounce of emotion to keep the magic flowing.

Astarion can feel her searching for him through the spell in which they are both enmeshed: she as the performer, he as the inspiration she feeds from. He might have cringed from her calling for him, from how she so unabashedly sees him as someone worthy of anything at all. But instead he finds himself reaching back without a thought, with his honest feelings of awe and affection.

And Cat leans on his mind. She is exhausted. She’s been playing nearly twenty minutes now, and she’s running on fumes, but she is exhilarated—like a hound that’s caught the scent trail, almost ferocious in her elation. She’s… having fun. Happy.

The Weave comes in full-force for the climactic end. Cat’s playing is frantic, then vicious, then playful. Dancing with the Weave’s own notes, fully entwined. And then it all comes crashing to the finish.

The sudden silence is almost deafening. Astarion peers toward Cat. She was in a haze of darkness in the circle, but it’s quickly dissipating. There are still shadows wafting around after the spell is finished, but it seems as if it pulled the proverbial drain plug, and the cloying dark is now fading fast all around them, even out toward the horizon.

Cat stands, looking off into the distance, panting like she’s just run ten miles. She’s trembling. Her hands slung down by her sides can barely hold onto her violin and bow—

Astarion strides over to her. He gently pries the instruments from her fingers, he knows she wants them safe—and immediately after he puts them to the side he is reaching for her, pulling her to him fiercely. Cat melts in his arms, burying her face under his chin.

“For me?” Astarion chokes out. Cat just nods furiously into the crook of his neck, her shivering arms clinging to him.

They stand like that until, finally, Cat raises her head. Takes a shaky breath. “I had…some of the pieces, for a long time. But, it wasn’t until we met that I could put it all together.”

He smiles. Feels the flush coming on again. “I’m speechless. Honestly. Normally it’s trite poems one has dedicated to them. Not some monumental orchestral piece.”

“Well, it’s not done yet, though.”

“Oh?”

“It needs three movements,” Cat says. A grin tugs at her mouth as she looks up at him. “So, I’m not quite done with you—“she stops abruptly as something catches her eye over his shoulder. A slow smile spreads across her face. “Astarion, turn around. Look—”

He does so carefully, keeping Cat in his arms.

It’s peeking over the scarred landscape. Over the remaining wisps of darkness.

“Cat—” he breathes.

“I told you, I didn’t do this for them,” she says, barely above a whisper.

The sun looks pale, almost weak—but it’s there. For the first time in weeks it greets him. It still exists. And he can still bathe in its light.

Astarion’s arms are wrapped around Cat, holding her to his chest as they watch it slowly rise. As they stand pressed together, his eyes are eventually drawn to the crown of her head. He spent so long obsessing over her thoughts, her intentions. Trying to puzzle out what went on inside that skull of hers. But she just keeps showing him—he matters to her.

His eyes move back to the sun growing stronger. “We would have been out of this in a few days, you know.”

Cat grips his hand at her waist. “But I wanted—I don’t want you to miss a day. Even with this new information about that ritual… nothing is promised. I could give you the sun back today. So I wanted to.”

Something lodges in his throat and he wraps her tighter, kissing the crown of this head that thinks of him. “Thank you,” he breathes into her ear. He doesn’t dare try to say more.

They stand like that, watching the sun’s ascent for a long time. But Astarion can eventually feel Cat start to flag. She’s reached the far, far outer bounds of her strength, and she needs to sleep. Badly.

After she stumbles at the top of the tower stairs, Astarion decides to sweep her up and carry her. For the sake of efficiency, of course. The surprise elicits an indignant squawk from her, which is hilarious, and then she clings anxiously around his neck, which is adorable. She rolls her eyes when he informs her of this.

He tries to keep away from the crowds as he carries her down this tower and up the other where the lavish bedrooms are. For the most part he succeeds, because most people have spilled outdoors to bask in the newfound sun. But there are still some—Harpers and refugees—who see them, who try to say something awed or inquiring, but Astarion sweeps by them without a word.

They arrive at Ketheric’s room, mercifully deserted. Astarion helps Cat strip out of her armor, then brings her the washbowl which is still partially full. Asks her if she minds that Ketheric’s face-gunk might be in it. In response she submerges her own crusty face and rubs it, immediately turning the water gray. To show dominance, she says, when she surfaces. He snorts a laugh.

He strips out of his own half-obliterated armor. Cat lays on the bed over the top blanket, her eyes already closed. Astarion goes to sit next to her. She cracks an eye open.

“Go enjoy it,” she mutters.

“I will, all in good time,” he says, smiling. “I need to make sure my charge is in good order before I abandon her.”

“Well. There is one thing.”

“Yes, darling?”

She inches toward him, and he automatically leans closer. Her face is serious. “Astarion, promise me, if anyone else comes looking for our help…”

He tries to keep from rolling his eyes. “Yes?”

“… toss them from the battlements.”

She’s utterly deadpan. And in the sigh of affection that escapes him, he comes the closest he’s ever been to saying those three words with genuine, terrible feeling.

And he might have, if he didn’t then kiss her so suddenly and fierce that she moans into it from somewhere deep inside. He tears himself away, panting, staring down at her looking so exhausted and flushed and gorgeous.

“Go on,” she murmurs, smiling languidly at his quietly desperate expression. “I’m not going anywhere. Told you, I’m not done with you yet.”

Of course, Natale had taken to the sewers like a particularly large rat. The man had no idea he was being directly hunted, and he certainly had no way of knowing that these tunnels were a home away from home for the predator after him, after so many many years creeping around its miles of twists and turns. Astarion would feed on his prey in his own proverbial living room.

One might think the stink of refuse would cover up the blood scent, but it only highlights it for Astarion’s one-track nose. The sweet smell stands out all the stronger against the reeking backdrop.

As he makes his way through the tunnels, Astarion notices the trail is doubling back over the direction Natale had fled above ground, leading him back down toward the harbor. It makes some kind of sense. Whether he intended to from the outset of his flight or not, Natale would no doubt try to meet back up with his crew eventually. He had no way to know that his lover was likely being currently subjected to a mutiny by her men.

Astarion creeps slowly on all fours high along the damp wall of the of a passage as the blood scent gets stronger and stronger. It is almost pitch-black down this way, save for the occasional dim light from a grate far above. He sucks in the putrid air, flaring his nostrils. Natale must be close. Astarion strains to hear any faint shuffle, see any small movement below that might give away his location.

And in the next moment, Astarion hears the whistle and feels the throwing knife pierce his arm with a soft shunk.

He hisses, scrabbling along the wall, cradling his upper arm and looking around wildly. There, around down the passage across from him and around the corner where it turns, the briefest suggestion of something ducking out of sight. Astarion tears the knife out, jumps down, and sprints at his full blinding speed, dagger in hand.

He is utterly bewildered. How would Natale even know to look up for anyone pursuing him? Hells—why would he even stop to attack, unless he knew someone was after him?

In the space of a couple breaths, Astarion reaches the corner where he saw movement, but it is empty and completely still. Astarion starts to dash forward again, counting on his speed to ruin Natale’s plans.

But several yards down the sloping tunnel, and the scent is gone.

Astarion meanders around the spot where the scent stops. Stalks forward several yards more, trying to catch it again. But he can’t find a trace of it. He vaguely remembers this place—here there is no side path for a good long while, no alternate route his bounty could have taken. Maybe Natale had found some way to mask the smell; there was no where else he could have gone.

Astarion can feel frustration gripping him, his anger spiking. But he forces himself to still. To breathe slowly in the way that still calmed him despite the fact he had no need of it. He tries to think methodically through the facts before him.

Another night Astarion might have felt a bit of excitement at the prospect of a challenge. Used it as an opportunity to stretch his hunting abilities to their limits. But his mind is so utterly scattered tonight, so torn between hate and want and grief. All he wants right now is his fangs in this criminal. Wants the warm, sating blood.

Astarion muses on whether Natale might have deployed something like Misty Step, or teleportation. But he doubts it. Natale was not known for any magical prowess, and he had been running flat-out ever since he left that bar. So fresh out of prison, he would have little resources.

That’s when Astarion realizes—yes, he does know this place. But he had forgotten one thing, something that had been bothering him slightly about its appearance. He turns around, walks back toward the corner where he had seen the flash of movement. There. Wooden planks, oddly new and free of slime for being all the way down here.

He lifts them, and the rusted trap door from his memories reveals itself. Natale’s blood is smeared conspicuously on the ring that lifts it.

Astarion pauses. He had gone down below this door only once, with that sweet man, trying to get him out safe—he shakes his head violently. No. All he needs to remember is that it is a veritable warren down there, tunnels older than memory, for what purpose he could not guess. And they are low, narrow, and twisting. A fine place for an ambush, where Astarion’s strength and speed would mean little.

He allows himself a grim smile. Natale may be mad, but in this moment at least he has been clever, with a plan A and B.

The man could be sitting right down there with a wooden stake just for Astarion, if he had somehow gotten wind of who exactly was after him. That is what bothers Astarion the most—there is no way Natale should know, and Astarion hasn’t the faintest idea of how he might have figured it out. Given the risk, it would probably be smarter for Astarion to call it off tonight and try to catch Natale unawares some other time. He has his scent, after all.

But the blood calls. His hunger groans in him. And on the morrow, in the daylight, chances were another hunter not averse to the sun would snatch this temptingly large bounty. It was only a matter of time until Natale got drunk and stupid again.

Part of his mind sends an unconscious apology to Cat as he eases the door up, silent on conspicuously greased hinges. The darkness inside is so complete it looks solid. Just like that last time. Astarion slips in. Tries once more not to let the memories catch on him as he goes.

Natale is most certainly down here. The earthen passage concentrates the scent beautifully. Astarion crouches, forced to by the low ceiling. He wills his focus into his hearing, his sight which is dimmed despite his darkvision.

Every moment he feels like he should be on top of Natale, the scent of his blood is so strong. But there is no sound, no movement. Soon Astarion reaches an awkward intersection, where several paths converge coming from all angles. Natale’s scent radiates from more than one direction, disorienting his nose.

Astarion suddenly stiffens as a strong wave of his prey's blood-scent crashes over him from behind. He feels the graze of the stake on his spine as he lurches forward, spinning back around with his dagger flashing out and his fangs bared.

Natale bites back a yell as the dagger catches his outstretched hand, sending the crudely-sharpened bit of wooden plank flying to the ground of the tunnel. An unassuming middle-aged man, as the description said. Pale skin, straggly brown hair, neither tall nor short, big nor small. Astarion might have said the most notable thing about him was the astonishing amount of dried blood on his tunic, but that isn’t it. It is his eyes—dead dark things that reflected no light. The man makes no cringe of frustration or fear. His face is blank. It gives Astarion pause, just enough to let Natale bolt away.

Astarion doesn’t even have it in him shout something mocking as he gives chase. It is over. There is no way Natale could hope to survive. He must be running only on instinct.

That is what Astarion’s mind ruminates on as he winds through the tunnels just out of reach of the man, until Natale makes an abrupt right, and there is suddenly so much light—

It isn’t so much light, really, but the dim flicker of the smoky torch in the half-collapsed chamber might as well have been the sun itself compared to the tunnels. For a moment Astarion can’t see, can only hear the steady drip-drip-drip of water into a pool, smell the abrupt green scent of moss. And—

“S—sir!” comes the voice full of tears.

Astarion’s sight rushes back, and there is Lem, bound and beaten, propped up against one of the large stones that had scattered from the ruined ancient wall of this small but lofty chamber.

“You shouldn’t let your little maggot go poking around such dangerous places, vamp,” says Natale in a voice so calm it's foreboding. He saunters over to Lem as he casually draws a rusted knife from the rope he is using as a belt. “Not nearly so clever as he thinks, this little maggot. Word got back to me quickly he had been asking all sorts of questions, last few days. And then I see him flitting around tonight, flaunting gold he has no business having.”

Lem just sags where he sits, sobbing quietly. And that’s when Astarion sees his bound hands. His bloody, ruined fingers—

“I will say, he sang sweetly for me once I freed him of a couple fingernails he don’t need. Told me all about his dear undead sir.”

Astarion feels anger prickle through him. His eyes snap back to Natale, who is now bent over Lem, peering at him, then glancing at Astarion. Face still completely blank.

“Almost had you, I did, back there. Sloppy, sloppy. Would have thought more of a great hero such as yourself.”

Astarion suddenly wonders—why has he stopped to gape like this? This man is nattering on in front of him, right there, good as dead. He finds himself lunging—

“Ah, ah—” Natale says, an edge finally in his voice as he plunges his knife to poke at Lem’s belly. The boy shrieks. Astarion freezes despite himself.

A lazy smile stretches across Natale’s face as he watches Astarion. “So, that’s how it is,” he mutters. And stabs the blade into Lem’s gut.

Lem howls, and Natale bolts through the gap of the ruined wall. Astarion reaches for him, moves toward the movement on instinct. But he stops dead in the next moment. Looks at Lem below him slowly but surely bleeding out. Looks up again where every fiber of his body is telling him to give chase—to kill the man that mocked him, to get the gold for his head, to drink the sweet blood he has been smelling all night to fill his bottomless hunger—

Lem whimpers. Astarion’s gaze snaps back down to the boy. A bit of trash that blew into his life that he was happy to use when he needed, who he could leave here and forget about completely. That the world had already forgotten long ago. So why should he lift a finger for someone who was nothing?

Astarion’s instinct lurches between one and the other, tearing him apart, until he finally makes his decision.

A/N: The violin piece I had in mind for this chapter is the first movement of Sibelius' concerto.

This is Astarion's last hurrah as a POV! He is both a pain in the ass and a blast to write (very appropriately)

For scheduling going forward--I'm planning on doing a double release this weekend with the in-game story wrapping up in ch. 9 on Saturday and the post-game short story in ch. 10 on Sunday!

#astarion #bg3 #astarion fanfic #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #bg3 fanfic

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danpuff-ao3 · 1 year

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If there's anything I love, it's -- well, Snarry. But I'm also very fond of holiday fics! Which is why I've written so many of them!

There is a sort of magic during the holiday season. The music. The food. The movies that are so bad they're actually kinda good. It's the cold weather and the hot chocolate. It's the excuse to cuddle up and be at peace.

It's the winding down of another year. It's coming together with family and friends. It's an excuse to celebrate and have fun, whatever your beliefs are.

Most of all, it's the infectious cheer. The whimsy, the fairytales. The comfort and joy. Singing and dancing. Gift giving. Baking. The decorating. It's being joyful, and sharing that joy.

And so...holiday stories. A lot of fluff. A lot of romance and family. A smidge of angst (because I can't quite help myself.) And, most of all, all are pure self-indulgence on my part. It's just me, leaning into my love of the holidays, and hoping part of that festivity touches someone else.

Happy Christmas, Potters

Snarry. Rated T. 2k. Fluff. Mpreg.

Harry, Severus, and their daughter visit friends and family on Christmas Day.

The Perfect Tree

Perceville. Rated T. 9k. Fluff. Romance. Background Snarry.

Percy is looking for the Christmas tree. Neville helps him find it.

The Christmas Prince

Snarry. Rated T. 13k. Fluff. Romance. (If you read any of them, read this one!!)

Harry and Snape are (kind of) set up on a blind date. Romance and chaos ensues.

Holidate

Ginsy. Dron. Rated T. 11k. Humor. Fluff. Fake relationships. Breaking up & making up.

Draco and Ginny aren't ready to come out, so they decide to "date" for the holiday.

The Pink Prank

Molly POV. Draco-centric. Rated G. 900. Background relationships. Family fluff.

Molly knits Draco a sweater for Christmas. It almost doesn’t go well.

Boxes & Baubles

Snape-centric. Snegulus. Snarry. Rated T. 2k. Angst & fluff. Podfic available.

Christmas trees over the first four (and a half) decades of Severus’ life.

Prankmas Eve

Fred & George POV. Rated G. 1k. Humor. Family fluff.

On Christmas Eve, Fred and George plan a prank. It doesn’t quite work out.

Companion piece to The Pink Prank.

The Green Dress

Jegulus. Jily. Rated E. 1k. Crossdressing. Secret relationship. Angst.

Christmas is no time for sulking over lost love. Not when there is new love in a pretty green dress.

White Lies & Silver Bells

Snarry. Rated E. 2k. Hoggywartyxmas 2022. Secret relationship. Fluff & angst & smut. Foot fetish. Bottom!Snape. Demisexual!Harry.

Minerva is angry. Harry is smitten. Severus is afraid. Just another Christmas at Hogwarts!

#danpuff fics #self rec #holiday fics #christmas fics #snarry #snegulus #jegulus #perceville #dron #ginsy

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bananakarenina · 1 year

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first lines game

the lovely @breakaway71 tagged me awhile ago and i am finally doing it!

rules: post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to ao3. if you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics.

these can all be found at my ao3 - bananakarenina

going from most recent to least:

1) Julie Molina leaves LA in the middle of the night. (heaven above & closer, aka the roadtrip au, complete, co-written with @where-you-go)

2) “Luke. Luke, is that really you?” (to love’s self alone, the sequel to for love’s sake only, WIP)

3) [Image ID: a photo from the Instagram account @officialjuliemolina.] (where the lovelight gleams, aka the rulie christmas romcom popstar au, WIP)

4) “I’m going soon, I think.” (keep reaching out, the companion piece to leave the light on, aka 10 conversations reggie has during the events of LTLO, WIP)

5) Her daughter knows all the stories, of course. (reprise: be so happy now, the beatriz timestamp to leave the light on, complete)

6) Drowning, it turns out, is a quiet thing. (praying for dryland, the drowning/lifeguard au, WIP)

7) “Jane! Time to wake up!” (a star sweetly gleaming: christmas at silver lake, the jane/missy christmas novella in the FLSO series. if i were a romance novelist it’d probably be called the Silver Lake Series and this would be book 1.5 lol. one day i will reveal the other titles i’d love to explore in this series if i had all the time in the world, lol. yes there is a victoria book i’d love to write. you all will be getting updates on this series until i am old and gray)

8) Luke crosses over first. (leave the light on, aka the canon-compliant crossover tragedy rulie epic. complete.)

9) Rose Molina is staring at her eyebrows in the bathroom mirror when the doorbell rings. (these last perfect days, the rulie promposal story, rose’s POV. complete)

10) “Reginald, Earl Peters!” (for love’s sake only, of course, historical romance fake marriage of my heart. complete)

40% unadorned lines of dialogue as first lines lol. that....sounds about right for me.

#1, 6, 8 were “wrote this line first in a bit of a trance and things unspooled from there” lines.

tagging @invisibleraven @innytoes @jmrothwell if you want to play!

#tag games #first lines #writing #fanfiction #julie and the phantoms #bananakarenina #for love's sake only #to love's self alone #leave the light on #a star sweetly gleaming #where the lovelight gleams #these last perfect days #heaven above and closer #keep reaching out #be so happy now

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wangxianficrecs · 2 years

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I’m in the Mood for a Fic Where…

Happy New Year to all. I was hoping the whole brouhaha about tags and new posts would have been fixed by now, but I’m getting so many of these requests that I’ve got another entire Mood post in queue. So I hope everyone who is involved gets to see this. Help me out, here, Crew!

~*~

1. For the next In The Mood For I am looking for fics where (a) the library scene actually happened or WY finds out about the dream (hopefully with a happy ending) and (b) fics where WY deals with his fear of dogs~ Thanks!!

(a)

Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 187k, wangxian, lan qiren & wei wuxian, WIP)

(b)

❤️Tragedy is Not the End by Hobbsy3 (T, 358k, wangxian, my bookmark)

a different reflection by silversshadow (T, 32k, wangxian, my post)

❤️Gentians in bloom by teawater (M, 251k, wangxian, my bookmark) - puppy therapy is actually in the sequel Silver bells and cockle shells

❤️ Rabbit Heart by Suaine (M, 57k, wangxian, my post) - wwx adopts a puppy

he’s worth it, for every bead in his hair by overgrownruins (E, 75k, wangxian, nielan, minor niexian, moshang from SSVS) - WWX magically bonds with a wolf and thus must get over his fear of dogs! Also there’s other interesting plot things and a fascinating au inspired by the ‘A Companion to Wolves’ book. MXTX Big Bang 2021.

many envies by newamsterdam (T, 21k, jiang cheng & wei wuxian)

~*~

2. Hello!! Welcome back✨[thank you!] I love all of your recommendations, and I'm probably not even half quarter reading all the fanfics.. And I wanna ask a question, perhaps do you know any fanfics that have infidelity between Wangxian? Like one of them cheating and left the other kind of stuff. And they have a baby too! Thanks💕

A part of my heart, a part of his heart by Windandthunder (M, 11k, wangxian, xixian)

on the precipice of by insane_falcon (T, 5k, xixian, wangxian, lan wangji & lan xichen)

I'm watching it Burn by BCat13 (G, 6k, wangxian, lan wangji/others)

~*~

3. For your next "I'm in the mood for a fic where..." post, do you have any recs for fics where WWX is brought back by someone else? (Preferably a named, canon character rather than an oc). I read Everyanything, where he was brought back by Qin Su, which you recced recently, [my ❤️bookmark] and really enjoyed it.

the problem with authority by isabilightwood (M, 139k, wangxian, qingli) - JYL resurrection AU

So You Want to Start a War by JaenysBloodcourt (T, 23k, wangxian, WIP) - QS brings WY back

Five People Who Never Summoned Wei Wuxian by EHyde (G, 3k, wangxian)

A Worse Timeline by donutsweeper (T, 2k, wangxian, series in progress) - JC performs the Sacrifice ritual

The Conspiracy will kick your ass by Bazbaz (M, 43k, wangxian, WIP) - NHS performs the Sacrifice ritual

~*~

4. Wow your recs are so good!! Do you happen to know any good outsider pov?

Here are 30 fics in my #POV Outsider tag (this is my AO3 collection, since tags aren’t working well here on tumblr) which includes more distant characters but also POV of major characters (like Jiang Cheng) but focused on observing Wangxian. [ Link is actually to a search for the word ‘outsider’ since I tend to tag both POV Outsider AND Outsider POV, derp.]

House on Haunted Hill by JustAWanderingBabbit (T, 6k, xongxiao,meng yao & nie mingjue) - outsider POV of a night-hunt set in a supposedly haunted inn. This is an old-school Scooby-Doo homage in which the culprits are plain old greedy mundanes; the investigators, however...(JGY, SL, XXC, NMJ, AQ; post-canon; set in the Babbit's Pieces-verse.)

~*~

5. Hello!! Thank you so much for the recommendations, your page has been my go-to for wangxian content for a while now! If it's alright with you, I was wondering if you know any fics where (for any reason) there are multiple Wei Yings from different times (teen, yiling patriarch, and after his revival etc) and Lan Wangji has to deal with them?? I hope it's not too confusing, english is not my first language TT Thank you!

Four Parts Honey and One Part Vinegar by masked (T, 13k, wangxian, my post) - Burial Mounds-era WWX comes to the post-canon future in the final chapter. WWX is jealous of LWJ's attention to his past self

veni vidi vici by wolframvonbielefeld (maknaeline) (E, 6k, wangxian) - In an Incense Burner dream, present-day WWX is confronted by his prior Yiling Laozu persona, and assimilates that aspect of himself in a steamy dual-cultivational ritual (the term “resentacles” applies) as a restrained LWJ witnesses the selfcest.

a tide in two seas by occultings (microcomets) (E, 81k, wangxian) - Modern AU wangxian travel portal into postcanon wangxian's world

~*~

6. Hey do you know any fics where (a) Wei Wuxian gets over his fear of dogs? Or (b) Murder Husbands WangXian?

(a)

See #1 (b)

(b)

scienter by synonemous (E, 67k, wangxian, 4 works, series in progress)

You & Me Baby, We'll Eclipse The Sun by 2501987 (E, 130k, wangxian, 22 works)

~*~

7. Okay, this is probably really specific but I was hoping you or someone reading this could find some stories where Wei Wuxian learns something from someone not in the Jiang family, like he learns how to dye clothes or paint a certain way or blacksmith or build/make something or even learns to use a different weapon? While still being part of the Jiang Sect. Like a side hobby that maybe becomes useful later or impresses Lan Wangji? Just something where Wei Wuxian has teachers or friends outside of the main Jiang clan. (Sorry if this doesn’t make any sense 😅)

Enfant Perdu, Jouet du Destin by JaenysBloodcourt (T, 15k, wangxian)

Instead of rabbits, I’ll give you this by Bloodcoral (T, 95k, wangxian, xicheng, WIP) - WWX ends up taking several apprenticeships after the lectures to learn more skills and he ends up sending LWJ a pair of gloves made from white dragons scales

Hyperprosexia by malkinmalkout (E, 192k, wangxian, my post) - wwx gets a mastery in talisman arts at one point

~*~

8. Hi! I really really want to read a fic where Wei Ying and Lan Zhan keep their relationship a secret and reveal it later written during modern times while maybe famous somehow or a good crossover story!

Let's See How Long Nobody Notices by narikanyan (M, 10k, wangxian)

Your Name On My Chest by Director_XuanWu (T, 72k, wangxian, #angst!)

Open Secret by brooklinegirl (E, 35k, wangxian) - secret relationship, but not because of fame

~*~

9. Hello! I love your blog it’s been so helpful in finding good fics to read. Do you happen to know of any good fics of WWX directly out of the three months in the burial mounds trying to adjust to basically acting human again? I’ve been looking for this one fic I read a while ago that’s about this where WWX steps out of the burial mounds for the first time and travels to yiling and stays at an there inn and basically tries to figure out how to act like a normal human being before he continues on his revenge quest. I can’t seem to find this fic anywhere and I was wondering if you knew of it? [I couldn’t decide is this was a Finder or a Mood request, but I settled on Mood....]

we're starting at the end by Miss_Enthusiasimal (M, 92k, wangxian, jiang cheng & wei wuxian)

not like gold in your dreams by pallasj (T, 10k, wangxian, see Chapter 5)

between the shadow and the soul by cl410 (M, 22k, wangxian, my bookmark)

~*~

10. Hello! I've followed you for a couple of days (week?) now and I'm been reading a lot of your "in a mood fic" and let me tell you, you have shown me fics that I've never considered before, so thank you for that. [I’m so glad!] I don't know if you're taking asks for "in a mood fic" but do you happen to know fics where a) WangXian PDA or being domestic and other characters react to it and b) NHS protecting NMJ (fix-it or not) - I just love the Nie brothers. Thank you and have a nice day!

(a)

Is My Brother Being Conned? by Director_XuanWu (T, 39k, wangxian, nielan)

(b)

I Have Been Selfish, Too by osiesaur (M, 137k, nieyao, wangxian, 3zun, WIP) - Author says, *screams in social anxiety* i see your latest mood post doesn't have anything for 10b and i wrote a fic that might work. IDK if it's what the asker wants bc it's JGY POV but NHS travels back in time to save NMJ. so *deep breath* self promotion it is I guess. [FYI self-promotions are admired and supported in this house!]

~*~

11. Hi! Hope you're doing well, and that you have peaceful holidays :) I was wondering if you know of any fic that deals with wwx being mentally 22/23 while all of his peers are 35/37 closer to 40? Thanks you so much! ~ @theraincanttouchus

~*~

12. Hello! Glad to see you back posting again. I was wondering if you knew any fics where LWJ's father plays a bigger role? I know he isn't much of a part of canon since he's in seclusion, but I don't really see him that much in fanon either.

Tam Lin AU by osiesaur (T, 26k, wangxian, 2 works) - features a few scenes with qingheng-jun

Jiang Rising by eebee (M, 135k, wangxian, WIP) - focused on Jiang Yanli but definitely has QHJ in it

~*~

13. hey! i was looking for fics where lwj just fucks off from the lan clan, being like a rogue cultivator or whatever (newer ones are appreciated!!) thank youuuu

Here’s my #lan wangji nopes out of the lan sect tag (this is my AO3 collection, since tags aren’t working well here on tumblr)

The Ghost in Our Hearts. by JaenysBloodcourt (T, 13k, nie mingjue/wei wuxian/lan wangji in various permutations) - LWJ leaves his sect, through it is just background

And They Have Escaped The Weight of Darkness by cosmicmilktea (T, 10k, wangxian)

~*~

14. If you manage to reach this ask by then, Happy Holidays! [Whoops!] If not, then I hope you had a Happy Holiday! 😆 For an in the mood fic, please may I request unplanned mpreg!wwx, maybe with a touch of drama/hurt-comfort; maybe they'll face disapproval, or wwx runs away, or it's a bit of a rocky pregnancy etc

A Scent of Pine in Winter by mondengel (M, 6k, wangxian)

And the world's alright with me by so_shhy (E, 13k, wangxian, my post)

~*~

15. Hello ! I hope you are doing well. I don't know if you are still doing this but can you recommend any fics about Lan Xichen feeling guilty after discovering the truth about JGY ? Thank you !

Heartwood Coffin | 心材寿材 by Zeebie (E, 144k, wangxian, WIP) - covers LXC’s entire life and of course his grief and guilt after canon events

~*~

16. Got any fics where lan zhan falls off the cliff with wei ying?

scars and scratches by comefeedtherainn (E, 87k, wangxian, WIP) - lwj jumps after wwx

how does one begin by Shializaro (T, 3k, wangxian, my post)

吃一堑，长一智。 by DianxiasDevoted (T, 12k, wangxian, WIP, part of a series called Local Cultivator Gay yeets himself off cliff to save world (NOT CLICKBATE) hahaha)

How Does One Go on? by KamiSuki (G, 1k, wangxian)

~*~

17. hello! welcome back :) a suggestion for one of your "in the mood for" posts whenever it fits into the queue--no pressure of course! I just want to know if you/your followers know of any good fics where wwx becomes a god when he dies. I've read a few, but am curious if i might have missed any good ones :)

To Capture A Ghost by atomicmuffin (T, 10k, wangxian) - TGCF au

Wuqian, the Local God of Yiling by Grace_ShadowWolf (TaubeLePigeon) (M, 69k, wangxian, WIP)

You still sound like a song by Moominmammashandbag (M, 56k, wangxian, WIP) - river spirit wwx

despite it all by novalotypo (T, 293, wangxian, WIP)

a sky 1300 years wide by novalotypo (T, 18k, wei wuxian & wen ning & wen qing, lan sizhui & wei wuxian, WIP) - Noragami fusion

Mixed Blessings by mondengel (not rated, 2k, wangxian)

Calling Heaven by mondengel (not rated, 2k, wangxian)

Superstitions by Silverne (T, <1k, all three jiang siblings ascend)

Of Destruction and Rebirth by demoniqt (G, 30k, wangxian, WIP) - wwx becomes a god, learns the ropes, recruits some people, visits some people, saves some people, catharsis and emotional growth can happen after death for multiple people

Somewhere Sits an Empty Throne by Siamesa (E, 20k, wangxian)

A Celebration In White by Enigmatree (T, 21k, wangxian, WIP) - wwx becomes god of the underworld. It's pretty awesome and worldbuilding is amazing. JYL POV.

Ashes and Moonlight by Anonymous (T, 125k, wangxian, hualian, WIP)

The Gods of Love by 0_Heta_0 (M, 74k, wangxian)

Dusk by Arcylic (not rated, <1k, wei wuxian) - the Yiling Patriarch has become a feared and venerated local spirit.

It’s Not The Destination (But The People You Save Along The Way) by Arcxus (T, 25k, wangxian, mo xuanyu & wei wuxian, WIP) - wwx resurrected and apparently a death god

~*~

18. Hi Mojo, I hope you're having an amazing day! I'm going to be really greedy and ask for 3 recs, please forgive me! The first one (a) is for a really good case fic. The second (b) is for a fic where WWX is put on trial for being the Yiling Patriarch and the last (c) is for a fic with some awesome interaction between WWX and LXC. Platonically though, cause I'm team wangxian all the way. I'll be grateful for even one of these recs, thank you!

(a)

Where the Lonely Ones Goby CSHfic, VSfic (T, 24k, wangxian, my post)

❤️爱不释手; never let me go by yiqie (E, 69k, wangxian, my post)

❤️this river runs to you by sundiscus (T, 53k, wangixna, my post)

build me no shrines by occultings (microcomets) (M, 55k, wangxian, my post)

❤️moonlight caught in mutton fat by Raitelzen (T, 45k, wangxian, my post)

(b)

拨云见日 by RoseThorne (G, 1k, wangxian)

(c)

do you know who tells the truth? by vespertineflora (E, 21k, wangxian, my post)

Nursery Rhymes by manaika (M, 97k, wangxian, nielan)

Is My Brother Being Conned? by Director_XuanWu (T, 39k, wangxian, nielan)

~*~

19. MOJO, in the next IM IN A MOOD FOR... May I requests some fics, modern if possible if not, everything is good, where everyone thinks that WWX is death and some mourn him for years until they discover that he is alive???? Or just fics where people mourn him hahaha. Thanks in advance! ~ @nia-rarita

Let the streetlights guide you home by tellthemstories (M, 37k, wangxian, my post)

These Things Stay the Same by notevenyou (E, 30k, wangxian, my post)

~*~

20. Hi Mojo! I am in mood of fic which is lwj centric, where wwx is the one who realises he loves first and lwj realises later on. Please no lwj bashing by any characters. I am currently reading Cyclone by friedchickenlord [my post]. Thanks :)

This Lantern Shines For You by apollonie (M, 11k, wangxian, my post) - hanahaki au

I don't shine if you don't shine by ilip13 (E, 10k, wangxian) - Cherry Magic au

~*~

[My ko-fi.]

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order! ***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #the untamed #wangxian fic finder #in the mood for a fic #i haven't read these unless noted #crowd-sourcing #fic finding #fic finder

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dancingonmoonbeams · 2 years

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My Fics

Hi! I wanted to make a post rounding up all of the fics I've posted. I love the little writing/fandom community I've found since I started writing and I appreciate every single person who has read what I've put out there! Thank you <3

The Hunger Games

we were meant to stay afloat - Odesta, multi-chapter, post-canon, Finnick Lives AU Finnick survives the war. He and Annie decide to be happy.

coming up for air - Odesta, companion to wwmtsa Having spent so much of her life haunted by her past and worried the present would slip away, Annie Cresta starts to look to the future. When Katniss and Peeta visit District Four, Annie finds herself in a surprising position - giving advice.

alone in this meltdown - Odesta, Annie-centric, pre-canon Annie Cresta never planned to be in the Hunger Games. She didn’t expect to survive, either. As she returns to District Four, she’s still fighting to leave the arena behind.

the fear of falling apart - Odesta, pre-canon Finnick Odair has never managed to get a tribute out of the Hunger Games alive. When Annie Cresta is reaped, he is desperate to break that pattern.

scars across your skin - Odesta, post-canon, Finnick Lives AU When Finnick's son asks how he got his scars, he reflects on what they say about his past.

golden like daylight - Odesta, post-canon, Finnick Lives AU Sunrise in District Four has always been one of Finnick’s favorite sights. (A lazy morning in District Four with Finnick, Annie, and their kids.)

All of the above are part of the Seashells and Stars series, so they exist in the same universe but can also be read as standalones.

struck by lightning - Odesta, childhood friends/sweethearts AU Lightning never strikes the same place twice, or so Finnick has been told.

to dust or to gold - Career!Annie Annie Cresta has been training in District Four's competitive Hunger Games Academy since she was twelve years old. It's an honor to be part of the Academy and learn from all of Four's victors, including the annoyingly well-liked Finnick Odair. In her final year of eligibility, Annie will have to push herself if she wants to be chosen to bring glory to her district.

The Last of Us (HBO)

things we lost to the flames - Joel & Ellie The Last of Us s01e08 follow up. What's going through Joel's mind when he finds Ellie in Silver Lake.

something like family - Joel & Ellie Ellie thinks about family and wonders if that's what she and Joel are.

run on for a long time - multichapter Joel POV, life before and after the outbreak Joel keeps going for family. The ones he’s lost, the ones who are still with him, and the ones that sneak up on him. (Joel and his family through the years, pre and post-Outbreak.)

in search of some hope - multichapter Tommy POV of his life in Jackson When Tommy leaves Boston, he doesn’t expect he’ll ever see his brother again. He leaves in search of something different, something better. When he stumbles on a well stocked hunting cabin in the middle of nowhere and comes face to face with a group of strangers who bring him into their growing settlement, he thinks maybe he’s found what he was looking for.

Pacific Rim

Here's to a Year That's Brand New - Newmann Snapshots of three times Hermann and Newt spend New Years together.

Even Darkness Must Pass - Newmann In the midst of a war, Hermann and Newt find some time to be together.

Eternals

Did You Miss Me? - Drukkari After they stop the Emergence, Druig and Makkari reconnect.

Our Flag Means Death

oranges - Gentlebeard A story of Edward Teach and Stede Bonnet, inspired by this tumblr post: "u know when u peel a mandarin to eat for urself and then someone u love is there and like without even asking u feed them every other piece from ur hand.....why is love so sweet and intimate"

#my fic

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kckt88 · 5 months

Text

Gēlenka Zaldrīzes II

Summary:

Events of Dynasty through Aemond's POV.

(There will be a part III)

Warning(s): Grief, Worry, Anger, Mention of Child Loss, Violence, Choices, Temptation, Drugging, Non-con touching, Dragon Battle, Death.

Word Count: 4600.

But can be read as a one-shot.

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

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Aemond had never been this angry in his life.

He’d woke that morning to find his wife and her Cannibal gone.

She’d snuck away in the dead of night and completely disobeyed his orders.

He should have known better last night when she claimed she wasn’t angry with him, and he let the desire to get his cock wet overrule his usual good senses.

His wife was a damn temptress with her soft skin and pretty moans, begging him to fuck her harder.

There was not much in this world that Aemond would admit to, but he was weak for his wife, she was his addiction. He was a dragon, and she was his treasure.

He stared at the silver band that graced his finger and prayed to the seven that his wife was ok.

She was with her Cannibal; he would protect her.

Trying to be rational and calm was becoming increasingly difficult.

His heart was in his throat all morning, and his stomach was in knots, even as he sat in yet another council meeting, his mind was elsewhere.

If she died, he would take Vhagar and raze Dragonstone to the ground.

Every single one of those traitorous cunts would die screaming, bathed in fire and blood.

He would show no mercy.

When Vaera accused him of caring more for the crown than her, she was wrong.

The crown meant nothing to him without his wife or their son.

Everything was for her and Rhaegar.

As time went on, Aemond had worked himself into such a frenzy of worry that he was close to storming out from the council chambers and mounting Vhagar.

But then, a huge roar shook the Red Keep.

“The Cannibal has returned Your Grace”.

As furious as he was, watching Vaera beat the shit out of Jacaerys was rather arousing.

She was relentless in her fury, punching every bit of her bastard brother she could reach.

Her reasons for doing so were completely warranted.

Their son, their precious boy had been killed because of a mistake.

No, the strong bastard deserved everything he got.

Eventually he managed to drag a struggling Vaera away from a bruised Jacaerys and ordered the bastard to be thrown in the black cells.

Sitting on the bed, watching Vaera pacing around their shared chambers muttering to herself was rather unnerving.

He expected her to rage, to scream, even to cry. But what she said completely floored him.

“I-I’m with child again” whispered Vaera as she placed a hand gently on her stomach.

Another child?

They were at war. Daemon was responsible for the death of Aemon. Rhaegar was still at risk and now this babe could also be a target to satisfy Daemon’s blood lust.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. It-it must have happened after we argued-“ whispered Vaera

Aemond remembered that day very well, after the events of Rooks Rest and his crowning as Prince Regent, he was spending increasing amounts of time away from his wife and their son.

He claimed it was his duty to the crown and to the realm but the grief over losing Aemon was still so raw and Vaera accused him of caring more about the crown than his own wife and child.

It was their first ever argument, they screamed and shouted at one another until things erupted between them and Aemond ended up brutally fucking her.

“-That’s almost three moons. If you knew you were with child, why did you ask so recklessly today?

Aemond could feel his stomach lurching once again at the thought of losing Vaera.

“Because the war needs to end. We can’t hide behind letters and potential alliances anymore” replied Vaera as she sat on the bed.

In his heart, he knew she was right. The longer the war carried on, the more dangerous it became.

“P-Please don’t let him take another one of our children. I can’t lose another child. I beg you Aemond. I-I can’t take the pain again” sobbed Vaera.

“I swear on the seven that no harm shall come to Rhaegar or this babe. I will kill Daemon. This I promise”.

Aemond wrapped his arms around Vaera and held her tightly.

He hid his face in his wife’s hair, trying to hide his own tears. He had tried to be strong for her. To be a man worthy of the title husband. To be worthy of being a father and he’d failed miserably.

His son, his precious Aemon was dead. He would never in his life forget the sight of Vaera clutching their sons lifeless body in her arms. His once bright eyes, still and devoid of life. His neck split open.

He was going to kill Daemon, even if it cost him his own life. He was going to see an end to his uncle, no matter what.

Instead of waiting for the Blacks to attack, Aemond decided that he would take the fight to them.

Daemon was said to occupy Harrenhal, he was the most experienced and formidable of Rhaenyra’s supporters, and without him, she would crumble.

In the event of his untimely death and his uncle’s survival, Aemond had made Vaera promise that she would flee with Rhaegar.

His wife was reluctant to agree, but it was for the best.

“I will go to my death content with the knowledge that you and our children will live” said Aemond as he ran a hand over the small swell of Vaera’s stomach.

“D-Don’t die” sobbed Vaera.

“I’ll try not to. But I swear if I do, I will take your cunt of a father with me” said Aemond, as he pressed one last kiss to Vaera’s forehead and headed towards Vhagar.

When Aemond and Ser Criston arrived at Harrenhal, they discovered that Daemon had fled like a coward in the night and abandoned the castle.

Those who remained were some of the last remnants of House Strong including a mysterious dark-haired woman.

Some claimed she was a bastard of Lyonel Strong, a sister to Harwin and Larys, and a wet nurse yet others claimed she was a witch.

Aemond never gave her any thought as she was on her knee’s in the dirt, her hands clasped together in front of her.

His swords grazed her chin as he commanded that she looked at him.

“Your name?”

“Alys. Your Grace. Alys Rivers”

Another strong bastard. Aemonds lip curled in disgust.

Ignoring the instinct to slice her head from her shoulders, he spared her life and dismissed her from his sight.

Instead of returning immediately to Kings Landing, Aemond and Criston decided to linger at Harrenhal.

It would give them ample time to come up with a strategy to deal with Daemon and Rhaenyra.

The former heir had been given a moon to concede her crown and Aemond was determined to see an end to Daemon for his role in the murder of his son and nephew.

What he didn’t count on of course was that damn Riverlands bastard and her attempts to seduce him.

At first, she would linger wordlessly around his camp, staring at him. Inching closer and closer every time.

She claimed she wanted to help, that she could see visions in the flames. She could ensure victory against the Blacks.

Aemond was no fool, such a thing would never be offered for free, and when she told him of her price, he felt sick.

She wanted him to lay with her and give her a child.

This witch wanted to give birth to his bastard.

No. What she was asking for, the price was to steep. Even when she tried using the memory of his dead son against him, he remained steadfast in his decision.

He could never betray his wife in such a manner, she was his entire world. She was his everything.

Even the thought of sticking his cock in another woman, made him feel disgusted.

Planting a bastard in the belly of a woods witch would forever serve as a reminder of his infidelity and stain the babe his wife currently carried within her.

He couldn’t do it. Not to Vaera. Not to Rhaegar and not to his unborn babe.

The witches offer was hastily declined.

But that did not deter her obvious desire for him.

In the coming days, she would appear at his side more and more.

Muttering endlessly about visions in the flames and undecided destinies.

More than once she had tried to touch him, but he recoiled from her each and every time, almost as if it would taint him somehow.

It grew tiresome, and more than once he viciously dismissed her.

However, his heart had grown heavy without his wife and son, he missed them and as the days passed his desire to be reunited with them continued to grow, unable to stand it any longer, plans to return to Kings Landing were made.

But that didn’t stop Alys from making one last ditch attempt to get what she wanted.

She had slipped some concoction into his wine.

He watched her smile as he lifted the cup to his lips, merely pretending to take a sip.

If the witch wanted to play a game, then he would play too and he would win.

Eventually he excused himself and retired to his chambers for the night.

He knew she would come, that she would try, and he would exact his fiery vengeance upon her in return.

Although laying there and pretending to be asleep as she ran her dirty fingers across his body made him remember that night on the streets of silk.

That older whore took what she wanted and here was Alys attempting to do the same.

He had said no, he wasn’t interested. That he wouldn’t pay her price, but still she tried.

He had boundaries and the witch had no issue crossing them.

When he rose from his faux slumber and seized her by the hair, the witch let out a squeal of surprise.

“My prince. I do not understand. How-?” gasped Alys trying to prize herself away from his vice like grip.

“I saw you slip your little concoction into my wine. Tell me my lady what was your intention”.

“I simply wished to satisfy your desires for the flesh” replied Alys.

“I have a wife who’s more than capable”.

“But your wife is not here. Tell me my prince are you not tempted?” whispered Alys.

“NO”

He would never be tempted to lay with another, sure he had been frustrated being away from the pleasures of his wife’s soft flesh, but he quelled his desire by fucking his fist most nights. His mind conjuring memories of his sweet soft wife on the end of his cock screaming his name.

“But surely-“ whimpered Alys.

“What you told me before. Was that a lie?”

“No, I told you the truth” exclaimed Alys.

“I don’t believe a word you say. You used the memory of my dead son against me, all so you could lure me into your fucking bed”.

He was livid, beyond all comprehension.

“I spared your life, and this is how you repay me, by manipulating me all so you could birth a bastard”.

“All the babes I had before were stillborn. I-I just wanted to be a mother” replied Alys.

“Why me?”

“You are a Targaryen; the blood of old Valyria runs through your veins” explained Alys.

“What about Daemon. He spent enough time here. Did you not tempt him with your lies”.

“He-We indulged in pleasures of the flesh, but his seed didn’t take,” confessed Alys.

Hearing of her involvement with Daemon made him feel even sicker than he did before.

It was disgusting. It was depraved and he would see an end to it and her.

He dragged the struggling witch through the ruins of Harrenhal, past the curious looks of his soldiers and Ser Criston, before coming to a stop at a clearing just past the woods.

Alys fell to her knees and whimpered as she saw Vhagar looming over her, the ground shaking with every lumbering step his dragon took.

His old girl snarled ferociously as if she could feel his own anger radiating through their bond.

“Apologise. I beg you. I saw him in the flames, a boy with silver hair wearing the conquerors crown-“

“DRACARYS” shouted Aemond.

Alys screamed as she was incinerated by Vhagar’s flames.

Aemond watched as her flesh seared and brunt to a crisp, his skin flaking and blowing like leaves in the wind.

The witch was dead.

Suddenly the loud roar of another dragon echoed across the dark sky.

Vhagar answered with an equally impressive roar of her own.

He snapped his neck looking skyward, as Cannibal, Brightfyre and Valaerys descended from the clouds.

His wife was here, something must have happened. She wouldn’t have come here otherwise.

The three dragons circled Harrenhal before landing with a ground shaking thud.

“Vaera”

He raced towards his wife’s dragon, pausing as he spotted Vaera helping Rhaegar and Jaehaera to climb down Cannibals wing.

“DADDY” shouted Rhaegar as he ran towards Aemond and jumped in his arms.

“What’s happened?”.

“Kings Landing has fallen” said Vaera, her expression grim.

Aemond listened as Vaera told him everything that had happened, his brother had managed to escape as had Maelor, but his mother and sister had been imprisoned.

They were worth more alive than dead.

Ser Criston had wanted to return to Kings Landing immediately, but they couldn’t. Even with Vhagar and Cannibal, his mother and sister were being held hostage, and given Daemon’s bloodthirsty track record he wouldn’t hesitate to slaughter them.

No, they needed a plan.

Aegon’s whereabouts were unknown so he couldn’t help.

Larys Strong had absconded with Maelor, so he wasn’t available.

No doubt Rhaenyra’s haste to attack the capital, had been in response to the terms she had received.

No doubt her strong bastard was now freed from his captivity, Aemond only wished he’d done more damage than simply breaking his nose, ribs and leg.

Mayhaps he should have tortured the bastard instead and cut pieces off his body. Let Rhaenyra see what had become of her precious heir.

Now was not the time to lament his failure to properly punish the bastard.

No, he needed a plan to retake the capital to free his mother and sister.

Unfortunately, word soon reached him, that his sweet gentle sister and young nephew were dead.

His delicate sister had taken her own life and his little nephew had been torn apart by a mob of angry peasants.

This had to end.

He ordered a raven be sent to Kings Landing, challenging Daemon to come and face him so they could end things once and for all.

A fight to the death and only one of them would emerge victorious.

Two weeks after he had issued his challenge to Daemon, the silent stillness of the air surrounding Harrenhal was interrupted by the high-pitched shrikes of a dragon.

The challenge had been accepted.

Daemon was here.

“I’m surprised you can recognize honour when you see it, uncle,” spat Aemond. “After everything you’ve done. After you sent assassins to murder my son and nephew”

“All is fair in war. You Hightower cunts took what didn’t belong to you” snarled Daemon.

“Murdering innocent children? Claiming it to be an act of retribution for the death of Lucerys. That’s fair, is it?”

“Couldn’t very well murder my own children, could I? It was so easy to blame you. After all, Lucerys was the one who maimed you with a blade and took your eye. Easy enough to point the finger at you” said Daemon shrugging.

Wait. What did he just say?

Luke’s death. He was responsible.

“I-It was you?”

All those sleepless nights spent wondering how Lucerys died, and it was Daemon all along. It made his stomach turn; his son and nephew had lost their lives because of a lie.

“I didn’t intend on killing the boy, but after I followed him to Storms End and saw you chasing after him on Vhagar, I realised that I couldn’t waste the opportunity,” said Daemon.

“He was your own wife’s son”,

“Not my son though” replied Daemon callously.

“M-My son was murdered for nothing”.

“I wouldn’t exactly it was for nothing. One less Hightower brat is fine with me,” said Daemon.

“Y-Your own daughters child”.

“She is no daughter of mine” retorted Daemon.

“You don’t deserve to be called a father”.

“Tell me boy, who will save her and your other brat after I drive Dark Sister though your skull?” asked Daemon cocking his head to the side.

“If you emerge victorious, I doubt very much that you and your long necked Wyrm would survive an attack from the Cannibal”.

“Mayhaps, but I will not stop until I have rid the world of every last Hightower and green cunt, I can get my hands on” said Daemon boldly.

They took to the sky on the back of their dragons.

Vhagar against Caraxes.

Uncle against nephew.

If the gods decided it was his time to die, then he would drag his uncle down with him.

Caraxes was faster than Vhagar, and the deadly Blood Wyrm launched his first snapping attack at Vhagar’s jowls, narrowly missing and pulling back as she breathed a jet of fire at him that missed Daemon by inches.

The Blood Wyrm rose high into the sky, hovering just above Vhagar.

Just as he was about to attack, Caraxes suddenly shrieked in pain.

Aemond looked down and spotted Brightfyre.

The youngling dragon had clamped his jaws around one of the Blood Wyrm’s feet.

Shaking his head viciously from side to side, his needle like fangs digging into Caraxes scales.

Aemon’s dragon, seeking retribution for his fallen rider.

Using the distraction to her advantage, Vhagar bared her sharp fangs, snapping at Caraxes and sunk her teeth into his neck, spilling the dragon’s boiling hot blood, putting herself directly in range of Caraxes’ claws.

Brightfyre quickly released Caraxes foot and returned to the ground. Roaring as loud as he could.

The Blood Wyrm raked his talons across Vhagar’s stomach, splitting her open.

NO VHAGAR!

Yet Vhagar was stubborn and despite being in pain she did not let go and in her fury, the ancient battle-hardened dragon sunk her fangs further into the neck of Caraxes.

Refusing to let go.

Aemond could hear Vaera screaming his name from the ground, as Daemon stood in his saddle.

Almost as if he sensed his rider’s fear and distress the Cannibal raised his head and let loose a jet of fire towards Caraxes.

Daemon slipped slightly when he jumped as Caraxes using the last of his strength lurched to the side in an attempt to avoid Cannibals fire and protect his rider.

Aemond could only look at Daemon as he slipped through the air, Dark Sister in hand.

The sword that would have gone right through his remaining eye, missed by mere millimetres, instead running the length of his scalp, slicing his head open.

He let out a furious cry as he raised his own sword and impaled Daemon cleanly through the stomach.

Daemon’s eyes were wide with shock as he grasped at the sword protruding from his stomach before he slipped from Vhagar.

Aemond couldn’t see through the blood that was streaming down his face, as his hands fumbled with the saddle chains.

Caraxes, now dead, plummeted towards the gods eye as a deadweight, his claws still embedded in Vhagar’s flesh.

Vhagar tumbled through the sky, wriggling furiously as she tried to dislodge herself from Caraxes but both dragon’s hit the lake with an immense splash.

At the last moment, Aemond threw himself from the saddle.

He was immediately sucked underneath the surface of the water.

So, this was it.

This was how he was going to die.

The last thought on his mind, was of Vaera and Rhaegar.

He committed their faces to memory. They were safe.

Then everything went silent.

No more struggling.

Everything was still.

‘Silver stained with crimson, a sister of darkness piercing amethyst. A last remnant lost to the eye of the gods’.

Alys Rivers prophecy had come to fruition.

Daemon had jumped from his saddle, his Valyrian steel blade raised. Aemond could only panic as he fumbled with the chains that held him to Vhagar’s saddle.

Daemon’s triumphant grin as he raised Dark Sister, plunging it so hard into his remaining amethyst eye that the blade came out the back of his throat.

“VAERA”

“I’m here” urged Vaera.

“I-I can’t see. Why can’t I see?”

He panicked, his hands clawing at the sheets.

“We had to wrap your wound, it’s ok Issa jorrāelagon” said Vaera (My love).

“H-Have I lost my other eye?”

Aemond despairing at the thought.

“No, you haven’t” replied Vaera stroking face gently.

Aemond visibly relaxed, his hands releasing the sheets. Everything that had happened came rushing back to him. Daemon. Caraxes. Vhagar.

“V-Vhagar. Where is she?”

“She’s resting near Cannibal. She suffered some injuries, but she’ll be ok” said Vaera.

“T-The babe?”

“Our babe is fine” replied Vaera.

“Rhaegar. Jaehaera?”

“The children are well” said Vaera.

He should be dead. But he wasn’t. He’d been pulled from the waters of the gods eye. He’d been saved. He’d been given a second chance.

After some much-needed rest Aemond found himself siting up in bed.

“I-Is everything ok with Vhagar?”

“Cannibal fetched her some deer, so she’s eating” replied Vaera.

“That’s good”.

He was pleased that Vhagar seemed well.

He knew that she was getting on in her years, and she’d had many riders in her life, and it saddened him deeply to know that mayhaps he would be her last, but he loved his old girl.

She had flown with him into that fight with Daemon and Caraxes knowing full well it could have been their last, but she defended him with furious vengeance, and they’d won.

Dragon and rider side by side. He felt a swell of something close to pride through the bond he shared with Vhagar, and he smiled. His old girl was still here, and she was without a doubt the fucking Queen of the dragons.

“Shall we remove the bandages?”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” asked Criston.

“I need to check the wound-“ muttered Vaera as Aemond awkwardly pulled himself up into a sitting position.

As the bandage slipped from around his head, Aemond grimaced in pain slightly, it felt odd, having his vision shrouded in darkness only to experience a sudden rush of light.

“H-How does it look?”

“The skin has started to heal, and there’s no more bleeding. But it will definitely scar” said Vaera as she inspected the wound on Aemond’s head.

A thin red line ran along Aemond’s temple and disappeared into his hair line. The blood dried and crusted, matting his normally immaculate silver hair.

“How is your vision Your Grace?” asked Criston.

“I can see”.

To say he was relived was an understatement, the thought of being completely blind made Aemond want to despair.

“Daddy” whispered Rhaegar.

“I’m here. I’m ok”

“I don’t mean to rush you but we’ve heard back from Dragonstone-“ said Criston.

“-Dragonstone?”

“Just after your fight with Daemon, we received word from Aegon. He’s on Dragonstone with Ser Arryk and a small garrison of soldiers,” said Criston.

News From Dragonstone was that Rhaenyra was dead.

Burnt alive by Sunfyre at the command of his brother Aegon.

After making the necessary arrangements, it was time for them to return to the capitol.

The flight back to Kings Landing took some time as Vhagar was still recovering from her injuries and Brightfyre and Valaerys were still too young to make the flight in one go.

But as the Red Keep came into view, Aemond couldn’t help but feel apprehensive, he wondered how the people of Kings Landing would receive them.

Would they rejoice at their return, or would they boo and hiss? Rhaenyra had been driven out of the Red Keep by rioters, what if the dragons were no longer welcome.

Aemond had Rhaegar sat in front of him in the saddle, his little hands held onto his fathers as they descended towards Kings Landing.

There was smoke billowing from some of the buildings, including the Dragon Pit which lay in ruins.

Aemond exchanged a worried glance with Vaera. What of the dragons chained below?

“Morghul” shouted Jaehaera happily as a young black dragon descended from the clouds.

“What about-“ exclaimed Aemond looking around wildly only to be greeted with a ground shaking roar as Dreamfyre appeared, her cerulean wings reflecting the sunlight as she glided effortlessly through the sky.

Helaena’s dragon appeared to unharmed and Aemond breathed a sigh of relief.

As the dragons began their descent towards Kings Landing, the sounds of cheering could be heard.

‘PRINCE AEMOND’

‘PRINCESS VAERA’

The cheers got louder and louder as the dragons roared triumphantly. The people of Kings Landing stretching their hands towards the sky waving and clapping.

The dragons landed just outside the walls of the Red Keep at their usual resting spot, and Aemond breathed a sigh of relief.

They were home, at last.

After bidding farewell to the dragons, Aemond and Vaera made their way back to the Red Keep with Rhaegar and Jaehaera.

The cheers and applause could still be heard echoing over the stone walls of the Red Keep, which in all honesty had seen better days.

The place was a mess. Rubble, wood, and glass was splayed across the floor.

“Be careful” urged Aemond as he lifted Rhaegar over the broken glass.

“Aemond. Wait” said Vaera.

“What is it my love?”.

“One last time” said Vaera as she took the conquerors crown from her satchel and placed in on Aemonds head.

“One last time?”

“Your Grace” said Vaera bowing respectfully.

“I shall see you properly bend the knee later” whispered Aemond.

“I look forward to it Your Grace” replied Vaera smiling.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be” said Vaera holding onto Jaehaera’s hand.

“Aemond of House Targaryen the first of his name, Prince Regent of the seven Kingdoms and his wife Princess Vaera”.

The few lords and ladies that were present in the throne room erupted into applause.

“AEMOND” shouted Alicent, dignity all forgotten as she ran towards her second son.

“Mother” said Aemond as he released Rhaegar’s hand and allowed his mother to embrace him.

“Oh, my son. Your, ok?” asked Alicent, her head tucked under Aemond’s chin.

“I am well mother” replied Aemond smiling.

“Vaera, my good daughter” gasped Alicent, the tears running down her face.

“Good mother” replied Vaera as she took Alicent’s hand and held it tight.

“Grandmother” cried Jaehaera.

“Jaehaera. Rhaegar. My grandchildren” exclaimed Alicent as she reached down to embrace her grandchildren.

“Little butterfly”.

“Kepa” exclaimed Jaehaera as she ran towards Aegon who was seated upon the Iron Throne.

“I have missed you” said Aegon as he reached towards his daughter and lifted her onto his lap.

“Missed you” shrieked Jaehaera as she hugged her father.

“Your Grace” said Aemond as he approached the Iron Throne and went down on one knee.

“Brother” replied Aegon.

“It’s time it was returned to you my King” said Aemond as he lifted the conquerors crown from his head and held it towards Aegon.

“You have served the seven kingdoms well brother” replied Aegon as Ser Arryk took the crown and placed it on Aegon’s silver head.

“All hail his grace. Aegon of House Targaryen second of his name. King of the Andals, Rhoynar and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #aemond fic #aemond x original female character #aegon ii targaryen #hotd fic #prince aemond #aemond one eye #alicent hightower #alys rivers #daemon targaryen

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bokettochild · 3 years

Note

Hey I was wondering if you could write a short fic related to your story ‘the blood between us’, from Warriors PoV when Wild got taken away from him as a child

This is more of a drabble than anything, and I probably will revisit it later, but I thought I would share this little piece now.

Sorry if it isn't angsty enough, I'm running on nerves and spontaneous inspiration right now.

Link cried when he first saw his son.

Bundled up in the carefully washed scarf that Zelda had made for him years ago, his child looked so small and fragile. Sablya had smiled, weak and weary as she offered the child to him, and for half of a moment he almost refused.

Once their child was in his arms, however, there was no removing him from them.

Whisps of golden hair and a brief hint of shimmering cornflower blue eyes reflected a perfect balance of the orange sheen of his mother and the dusty blonde of his father, as well as a the mix between Royal blue and dusky silver.

Their child’s skin was mottled in a way that may have worried the two new parents, had it not been for his mother’s blood providing all the answers they could need.

He was perfect.

Link had clutched the tiny bundle close to his chest, crystal tears running down his face as his wife gently patted his arm, a smile twitching at her dark lips as she listened to the whispered promises of love and protection from her soldier husband. There was no doubt in the mind of the midwife, as the woman packed her bag and made to leave, that these two would make excellent parents.

“Why Zve-Zvee-”

“Zvezda.” Sablya correcting, the word rolling off her tongue with the same lilting of her accent that it always bore. “It mean ‘shining one’, Link.”

“And for Hylia’s sakes, you are not naming your child ‘Link’.” Grandfather had grumbled, shuddering slightly even as a sad smile pulled at his features.

“See?” Dark brows arched regally as his wife looked down at him. “Fate can not steal him if name is from realm beyond the control of goddesses themselves.”

Link had sighed and shaken his head. “I can’t even say it.”

“Then say Zvee,” Sablya chuckled, eyes lingering on the child in her arms. “It mean ‘bright’.”

“And bright he will be,” Grandfather chuckled. “I can already see him messin’ round with those contraptions yer cousin had commissioned.”

“Riding Guardians, play with runes.” Sablya chuckled. “Will master all mysteries.”

“Hey now, don’t settle too heavy of expectations on the babe’s shoulders, he’s not even babbling yet.” Link protested, reaching out for the infant in his wife’s arms only to have the other two laugh at him.

Little Zvezda, or Zvee, as Link eventually agreed to, grew fast and strong. He was a small thing, but there was never any fear for his safety. Not when Link was such a doting father, forever keeping his gaze after the child, even with Linkle’s and his wolf friend from their childhood looking out for him.

True to the family ways, the babe was active, if not a bit quiet, and there were few days when he wasn’t found wandering about, his father trailing behind and the wolf faithfully following at his side. Animals flocked to him and there wasn’t an outing where some bird or beastie wasn’t found coming closer than usual to their small infant.

He was nearly silent, slipping off and out of sight in a moment's notice. Unnaturally fast, Link had complained to Grandfather with a fond sigh, eyes trailing after his son as the boy chased after his wolf companion. He was remarkably clever; Zelda had laughed as she watched chubby fingers held twist a bolt into one of the guardians that her Sheikah researchers was working on.

“Sunshine.” Zelda cooed as she swung about the castle halls with him in her arms.

“Little Shade.” Sablya whispered as he snuck into their room in the middle of the night.

“Wild Child.” link would chuckle as he removed the babe from one or another den or grove that the babe somehow managed to sneak off too.

Zvezda was the light of Link’s life but there was no getting away with keeping his precious son to himself. Even the Guardian’s of Time, on their rare visits to the castle, had become enchanted with him. Cia and Lana would coo and laugh as the cubby toddler would explore and poke about in a manner all his own, their laughter only growing as Link had been forced to break form from the rest of the soldiers in order to chase down his offspring. He would have left Zvee at home with Sablya, only Zelda had insisted that she get to see her nephew.

Link had never been stared at with such disapproval by his commanding officer, but with his son giggling and cooing in his arms, he found that he didn’t really care.

It was the little moments that he loved the most. The moments when Sablya and he would wrap their child in Link’s scarf, for no blanket would suffice, not as far as Zvezda was concerned, which Zelda had carefully enlarged for that very purpose, songs and melodies slipping off of their tongues as they sang him to sleep.

It was moments like when Grandfather would toss Zvee into the air, shrieking giggles filling the house as Sablya watched with worry as their child soared, only to be caught by hands roughened by sea and storms but gentle as could be. Zvee would burry his hands in Grandfather’s beard just as Link had as a child, and it wasn’t uncommon to find the two fast asleep together come the middle of the day, Zvee looking for all the world like a little golden bird curled up in his great-grandfather's beard.

It was moments like when the wolf would come, Zvee hanging out of his mouth like some sort of cub, a tired expression on the canine’s face as he deposited a scraped and bruised Zvee into Link’s lap, where he would be combed and brushed, the twigs pulled from his hair and the scrapes tended as Link would scold him gently. The scoldings were quickly forgotten and the twigs would be back within hours some days, but Link could only smile and settle the child down again, repeating himself as he ran a brush through silky long locks.

Moments like when Sablya had taken their family to her own home and presented their child to her own great-grandfather, pride clear on her face as she had watched the old Hylian hold their son. Zvezda had taken to his great-great-grandfather in a way that he had never done with strangers before, but Link blamed it on the heavy furs that the man wore; Zvee was always a sucker for fluffy things.

These were the moments that he treasured the most. The simple times.

But all good things must come to an end.

A guardian can only stand to sit alone in a palace and watch the world go by for so long. Two girls locked away from the world, save on set occasions, were bound to eventually snap.

Lana had turned her loneliness and sorrow into passion as she did her best by the timeline, but Cia had allowed hers to fester, growing bitter as she watched the rest of the world find love and safety in the arms of others, left herself with no one.

Her jealousy towards the crown and her desperation for a companion that would last through time had driven her to break the vows of the Time Guardians attacking the palace and the princess within.

Link had been called to service that day, a messenger riding past their house with a message to gather at the castle, to defend the princess.

Link kissed his wife and son goodbye, eyes lingering on them for a moment as resolve stirred within. He’d defeated Malladus as a child, a corrupted Time Guardian could hardly be worse. He would be home in no time, his child in his arms and his wife by his side.

Sablya smiled at him with pride. “Kick ass.”

“Ass!” Zvezda echoed, earning his mother a sharp look from her beloved as she chuckled.

A final kiss for the each of them and he was swinging up on Epona’s back and riding out with the rest of the soldiers.

He never would have guessed that while saving a life he would be bestowed with the Triforce. Never could have guessed that in gaining the goddesses favor he would also catch the eye of a bitterly lonely woman.

He was named the Hero Incarnate before the kingdom.

Grandfather had smiled with pride, but his eyes had held a sadness that Link could not understand.

Sablya had kissed his lips, murmuring softly that the hero’s tunic suited her beloved far better than any Hylian soldiers' uniform. Zvezda had promptly pulled off his hat and attempted to put it on.

“You’ll never have to wear that thing,” Link promised that night as he pulled the long green cap from his sleeping child’s fingers. “Not on my watch, Little Zvee.”

“Thank Hylia.” Linkle giggled quietly from the door to the bedroom. “That thing looks terrible.”

He’d thrown the cap at her, making her muffle a screech as she darted out of the way, but he didn’t push further. Pride welled in his heart as he thought of the honor he had been bestowed, and that one day, his son might look to him and see a hero. It was a wonderful thought.

Being a hero was a wonderous thing.

Until it wasn’t.

Until he was waking up to a wind that shouldn’t have been there. Until he was rushing down the halls as Zvezda’s screams echoed into their room.

Sablya and he had barely burst through the door, their nightclothes hanging loose about them as their terrified gazes had turned from the empty bed to the child sliding slowly across the floor, his sleeve locked in the jaws of the golden wolf as it attempted to pull it away from the swirling dark abyss that had appeared on the far wall.

Link had darted forwards, fear pounding in his heart and hands already reaching for his son.

Zvezda’s fingers brushed against his for one heart pounding second.

There was a whooshing of the portal, a final pull fo wind and a final shriek mingling with a frightened bark.

And then there was silence.

Link cried when he first saw his son.

The night that he lost him, all of Hyrule could hear the roars of agony.

#fluffics #but sad #sort of #the blood between us #warriors is wild's dad #linked universe warriors #linked universe wild #linkeduniverse #linked universe #angst #asks #requests are open!#linked universe fic requests

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ratcatcher0325 · 2 years

Text

Nobody’s Fool (Chapter #23)

Chapter 23. Oh man, I promise I did NOT plan for this part of the story to land at Christmas time. Sorry for all the intensity around the holiday season!

Previous: Chapter #22

Next: Chapter #24

CW: Adult language, dehumanization, references to abuse, mild sexuality, extreme angst

Reblogs > Likes. Thank you!

________________________________________

NOBODY’S FOOL

Chapter #23: Pull the Strings

Word Count: 2278 Read Time: Approx. 18 mins

[Penn’s POV]

I knew as soon as the hand of the human gripping the doorknob came into view, this was not one of my bandmates. The hand was masculine, hard. Veins protruding from the top and snaking along the arm. There was hair on the wrist but not so much to be considered hairy. The hand wore an impressive gold and silver watch, ticking out the seconds that seemed to each last a lifetime. The arm connected to a dress shirt, lavender, sleeves rolled up, collar unbuttoned. The dress shirt ended in a head, a trim dirty blonde beard, small blue eyes, a pencil straight nose and dirty blonde hair that was slicked back. As this unknown male entered the room, I couldn’t help feeling my hackles raise like some territorial animal.

He’d made one step into the threshold of the door, when I heard Eveline audibly gasp, and the hands encircled around me disappeared, leaving me to fall back on my ass upon the surface of the counter. I did my best to scramble to my feet, gritting my teeth. Did she know this man? Was she in danger? Within the span of one more footfall, he brought his left arm from around his back, revealing….

A bouquet of flowers.

What?!?

She looked utterly shocked, stammering, wiping the tears from her eyes, her left hand still resting on the counter, as if to separate the two of us. “S-Sam… what’re you… when did you fly in??” No. No. This couldn’t be what I thought it was. Please no. Two more steps, and he slipped a hand around her waist, pulling her body into his, stepping between her legs, he pressed against her with his hips so that she was pinned between him and the counter as he pulled her in for a kiss.

What?!?

He nonchalantly tossed the bouquet on the vanity next to their entwined bodies. I had to scramble back to avoid being bowled over by the pile of thorny roses wrapped in plastic.

I watched in abject horror as he pressed his body into hers, hungrily kissing her, biting her lower lip, caressing tresses of her hair. “Mmm, what’s the matter? You don’t like your man surprising you early? God, I missed you….” She was frozen in shock, hardly moving. I felt like I was going to throw up.

She… had a boyfriend.

After everything I’d been through with her. The way she touched me, held me, believed in me. I was nothing to her. Just an insignificant little companion. I could do nothing to compete with a real man. One that could hold her when she cried, pick her up when she danced, protect her when she felt afraid. After all, here the two of them were, hot and intimate, practically dry humping right in front of me, without a care in the world.

I’d never felt so small in my entire life.

***********

Sam was all over me, lips pressing hard into mine. I did not reciprocate. I had no idea he was going to be here. What horrible fucking timing. I had planned to break the news to Penn gently, expecting Sam would fly in next month to drop by and say hello. So much for that.

Why did I feel guilty, like I’d been caught cheating or something? Penn and I hadn’t done anything…. I didn’t owe him anything… and yet, I could hear Travis’ warning echoing in my head. I’d let him live in false hope for too long and, not only that, I’d gotten swept up in the fantasy myself.

When he’d asked me point blank why I’d left the band, I wasn’t fully honest with him. I knew that was wrong in the moment…. But I did it any way. What was it about those bright, intelligent little eyes? The feeling of his tiny hand gripping the pad of my finger? He was precious to me and now I’d shattered his little heart into a million pieces. He may have been just a pet, but I cared about him far more than I’d even been willing to admit. The second Sam’s lips touched mine, I felt dirty. It felt wrong. Not right in front of the poor thing! Not like this!

I finally sprang into action, turning my face away. The man holding me tightly, hardly took any notice, “S-Sam! SAM! Stop! Jesus, just stop for a second.”

He pulled back, brow furrowed, he placed a hand on my cheek. “What Ev? You alright? I thought you’d be excited to see me…”

I avoided his gaze. I didn’t know what the fuck I was feeling right now. Shame. A lot of shame. “This is…. You almost knocked Penn over…” I squirmed out from under Sam’s weight, crouching down to eye level with the tiny man. The second I came into his orbit, he backed away, hastily. Fuck. That broke my heart. His chest was heaving in rapid succession, his eyes rimmed with red. His jaw was clenched, set. I could see the tendons popping with tension through his cheeks. For the split second that his gaze met mine, it was so full of fear, anger, sorrow and pain that I had to clench my nails into the flesh of my palm to keep from bawling. I’m so sorry, I hurt you… you trusted me and I hurt you so deeply. I’d fucked up. Majorly.

“Oh, yeah…. I almost forgot!” Sam crouched down, his arms crossed over his chest. “Hey, there little fella! Aren’t you cute??” Sam, you sure know how to make a bad situation worse don’t you? He presented his index finger to shake. “I’m Sam, what’s your name? Patch, right?” Penn stared a hole into the ground as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Grumpy little thing… alright, well, I brought you a little something…. All the way from, Jolly ol’ England!! Oooh! Cool, right?” He fished something out of his pocket. It was a bearskin hat, like the famous soldiers who stood guard at Buckingham Palace wore, but this was pet sized. He dropped it uncaringly on Penn’s head, and it, of course, fell off immediately. Neither of them made any effort to rectify the situation.

We sat in an uncomfortable silence for a moment, before Sam finally cut in. “Ev, love, what’s the matter? You’re acting all weird. Did I do something? I just wanted to come see you….” There he goes, guilting me. Didn’t he know I was already being crushed under the weight of my guilt right now?

“It’s nothing… we’re—I’m, I’m fine. Just… tired. Long day. Can you just… can you wait in the green room while I help him wrap up?” He gave me puppy dog eyes. “Please, Sam?”

He picked up the flowers, kissing me on the hand, as he headed for the door, “Ugh, fine, be a tease… but you won’t be able to get away from me back at the hotel tonight, I promise….” I felt sick to my stomach. I just wanted him gone. A million thoughts cascaded through my head, leaving me spinning. How could I be so suddenly revolted by my partner? The man who I’d given up the band for, whom I had just defended to Travis the night before… how could I hate the sight of him? Why did I just want to hold Penn and cry while the whole rest of the world and all its complications disappeared for a while?

Kneeling back down, I found him curled up, back pressed firmly against the mirror. As far away from me as he could get. He looked just as frightened and injured as he had the night I’d carried him in from the freezing cold. Fuck. We’d never recover from this, would we?

***************

It was just the two of us again. But the ease I had slipped into every time she was near was now replaced by a boiling anger and searing pain. I wanted to hit something. I wanted to scream. She lied to me. I’d dared to trust a human, fully, deeply, stupidly…. And she’d strung me along like a little lamb to slaughter.

How little did she think of me that she’d hidden the truth of him altogether, while clearly informing him of me to the point that he felt obliged to bring me a stupid ass souvenir??

I couldn’t believe I’d been so blind. Of course she had someone. Of course she did. She was too beautiful, talented, smart, funny, gentle, sweet… she was too perfect not to. It wasn’t a matter of whether she could love a pathetic little pet like me, she was not free to give her love to anyone at all. I just couldn’t believe after all we’d shared… that it had all meant nothing. I’d really thought…. I’d really felt electricity between us. How stupid of me!

Did she really not know how I felt? Could she really not feel the love pounding in each and every one of my heartbeats? Was I so insignificant to her, so meaningless, that mentioning she had a partner was left undiscussed even when she invited me into her home? Was I really so unimportant to the one person who’d actually made me feel big? I tried with great effort to hold them at bay, but tears began to stream down my face, and then, like a shattered dam, they burst forth uncontrollably. I curled into myself, burying my head in my lap. Sobs racked my body as I struggled to breathe.

I heard her coo a little sigh of pity and concern, before her fingertips descended around my head and shoulders. I shook them away violently, “Don’t—“ I choked. I didn’t want her fucking pity, her condescending little pats on my head, I didn’t want her to press me against her shoulder caressing my back like an infant she was trying to put to bed. I wanted all of this to go away. I wanted to live in yesterday’s ignorant bliss. I wanted her touch to heal me and not sting like my skin was on fire. I couldn’t stop the racking sobs.

Soon, I could tell she was crying too. “I’m sorry, Penn. I’m so sorry….” She whispered, through tears. “I should’ve told you sooner. I was planning to…. I didn't know he was here. I never meant to hurt you. I care about you so very, very much. Please believe that…” You care about me, but you don’t love me…. Not like how I feel for you…

“Penn, will you please look at me?” I couldn’t. If I saw those beautiful eyes again I’d never be able to stop crying. “Please!” Reluctantly, I obliged. Lip trembling as I stared into her stormy irises. “I know you’re hurt. You have every right to be. I’m sure you’re angry too. That’s okay. You might be angry for a long time and… frankly I’d understand… I never meant to hurt you, little one. I… well, honestly, I’ve got a lot to work through right now…” I scoffed, my face frozen in a scowl. You have a lot to work though? Wow. Okay. Never mind what I was going through. “Whatever you need right now, is fine by me. If you’d rather have someone else, maybe Dani, hold you, keep you in her room. I won’t be offended. Please let me know what you need… I’m sorry Penn… please believe I didn’t mean for it to happen like this…” Her tone was earnest and I believed she meant what she said, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what the man had said about them having sex in the hotel room. It was difficult to shake the notion that she wasn’t simply getting rid of me in order to lie down with her partner. Boiling anger again. Jealousy. How would I ever compete in that department with a human male? I crumbled at my own insignificance and pathetic size. I was a pitiful little nothing, pawned off on the next person who was willing to put up with me.

Her eyes widened, as she realized what she sounded like, “Not. Not like that… I’m not trying to get rid of you… I, it’s just… he wasn’t even supposed to be here for another month…” I tore my stupid hat off and tossed it as far away from me as I could manage. She went silent, crying softly.

I knew I had little to no chance with a human woman, anyway. I knew that. I was painfully aware of that. But this? It didn’t matter about my size…. To be in love with someone and think I had a chance, however slim, and to realize she had a partner all along who she had no intention of leaving for my sorry self…. I was so crushed.

“May I pick you up? Just to help get you out of this room?” I couldn’t even storm out of my own dressing room, if I wanted. No, I had to be held in the hands of the woman who’d just broken my heart. Well, I had no other choice. My skin was on fire, my head dizzy and disoriented. I wiped my eyes with my bandana, stuffing it in my pocket, before rising to my feet. I left my hat where I’d thrown it on the counter, intentionally ignoring the absolutely stupid ‘gift’ I’d been given altogether. She didn’t say a word.

“Okay.” I finally stood still, preparing to be held aloft, my hands firmly balled into white knuckled fists, my arms crossed tightly over my chest.

#Well... This isn't looking too good #Poor Penn #g/t #g/t writing #g/t angst #g/t community #giant/tiny #size difference

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monsoonblooms12 · 3 years

Text

The Butterfly Effect (Ethan Ramsey x f!MC)

Summary: The Journey from where it all began to where they are now. From a 2-minute power nap to a Miami kiss, Pooja and Ethan have come a long way. From Pooja's POV (Set in OH Bk 1 Ch 10 and contains flashbacks from OH Bk 1 Ch 1, Ch 4 and Ch 5)❤

The Butterfly Effect: Discovered by Edward Lorenz, this theory suggests that something small and insignificant, can alter situations in such a way that leads to utterly drastic changes. For example, a butterfly flaps its wings at an Amazonian Jungle and subsequently a storm ravages half of Europe. (This has to be one of my favorite theories ever🦋)

A/N: I got inspired from a dark Academia quote and here we are with 2.4K of mess. But I enjoyed providing all the fbs from Poo's POV and filling in the gaps of the unknown. And all the DbC peeps, I am trying to finish ch 8 believe me😭

Thank you so much to @jamespotterthefirst for Pre-reading! Love you🧡

If you enjoyed the story, please like it, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going🦋

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: around 2.4K

Rating: General

Category: A messy mix of Fluff and Angst

Warnings: None that I found

A grain of sand, almost imperceptible to the human eye, 2 millimetres in diameter. Just a tiny little grain of sand, a single one. One would wonder how great of an effect that could produce?

A single grain of sand, eliminated from the base of a sand sculpture, can set on fire a cascade of events that result in something as drastic as the demolition of the entire sculpture. Just a trifling 2 mm sized grain of sand.

Tufts of hair gently swayed with the swooshing ocean breeze, the very grains of sand of which her mind was thinking about slip through gaps of her toes. It's a calming atmosphere, having a Zen-like effect on her racing heart and confused reasoning.

The echoing crash of ocean tides, the hushed ruffle of her shimmering purple dress, and the pattern of her footsteps of the white sand, now silver under the enchanting moonbeams.

She could not think about bad ideas and good ideas anymore. Nor could she obliterate the delicate touch of peach lips ingrained in her mind. Everything was a lock of tangled hair, a chaotic mess in her mind.

And when you can't disentangle a mess, you just tear it off.

That was what she was doing, tearing herself away before her mind got engulfed by a cocoon of ambiguity and concealed probabilities, restricting her to get out without getting transformed into someone else.

Legs exhausted after strolling for who knows how long, Pooja sits down, not bothering about the sheet of sand fragments that adhered begrudgingly to the purple satin.

A simple motion ensues, the florid hair tie holding her brown hair strands in a ponytail, now lay in her hand, giving them the liberty to enjoy the tranquillity of the idyllic scene they found themselves in.

Relaxation. That was what she anticipated. The soothing of her racing heart, the clearing of her muddled head, the easing of her bothering thoughts.

But it never came, the relaxation she desired.

Instead, her fingers, for a reason mysterious even to her, fidgeted the diamond imitation bracelet that embellished her left wrist. A twitch unveiled a vague scar, a remembrance of an old episode entirely cleared off from her mind.

Flashback

Pooja was a Potterhead. An extreme one indeed. Sometimes the thought made her chuckle. How she despised the books once, presuming they were overrated. And then, as if a magic trick had been performed on her, she became the Maven of the Harry Potter club.

But being a Potterhead and having to live in a niche under the stairs did not go hand in hand. The room under a staircase was still a room under a staircase. And every day, her mind replayed the poem of curses to her, as if to warn her to never search for an apartment on a Facebook Group ever again.

And now she stood, waiting for the century-old toaster's ping, as sleep struck like pin-pricks on her eyelids, threatening to close them off. It was a bad day today, the phone battery drained, and she, coffee drained. And the cherry on the top? Today was the first day of her residence at the most prestigious hospital in the entire States.

Uff!

She yawned the hundredth time, sleep playing a tiring game of chess with her mind, and giving it a Check! every now and then.

I don't even know a goddamn coffee shop around in here!

Displeased grunts accompanied the thought as she took the knife and began slicing the apple she had been floundering around for quite some time.

One Slice, and Another, and Ano-

Snorr!

What an ability it was to fall asleep anywhere, in any position! What harm would a "Power Nap" of a minute or two do? Right?

AAHHH!

The scream came out in bits, first when her eyes fluttered open with the sudden pain. A pause followed when she actually looked at the source of it and after her eyes and mind registered what was happening, came the second scream.

She was getting the taste of just how profitable the power nap was.

Hurrying away, she rummaged around for a first aid box, failed to find it, trotted to her Harry Potter adobe and took out the medical goodies she had brought with her. After ransacking through it, she found the antiseptic and the swabs she was looking for. Then a faint sound came from the blinking cellular and she picked it up, not waiting for breakfast. Just as she clicked the unlock button...

HOLY SHIT!

What? How? Her mind could not register. The only thing she understood was that she was notoriously late for her first day, and now she would have to do all the running that she had avoided for all the preceding years.

Letting out another pained groan, she kicked two flowerpots on her way to the kitchen, took the toasted slices of bread, switched off the stupid piece of machinery and ran.

She was sure she would have come first in any marathon if she had run in them with the speed she was racing right now.————————————————————————

Did she know about Dolores Hudson? No, she didn't. Had she planned on telling about her to Dr Ramsey? No, she hadn't.

The two words had inadvertently slipped off her tongue, not envisioning it as an indication. But as soon as they reached his ears, it felt as if a domino had been pushed. One pushed on to the other, leading to a chain of events that had given no hints, no warnings at all.

And now she was in the NICU, chatting with the man whom she considered an idol, a role model as if they were old companions. It was an enchanting experience to see the intern-terrorizing gentleman, so ... normal.

She questioned her mind's choice of word, but she did not completely disagree. To see Dr Ramsey, sitting here with an intern, talking with her, for no particular purpose other than the fact that she decided to stay back here in contrast to any other person, who would have valued their sleep than watching over a premature baby with whom she had no connection.

When sleep muddled her thoughts, she didn't realize what she was doing. Head lowered into his shoulder in a motion that felt like a reflex embedded in the nerve cords of her spine. She missed the gentle smile, decorating the handsome face of his, as he watched her from the corner of his eye, his eyes holding an emotion unrecognizable.

Was it affection? Pride? Adoration? Or something completely different? Who knew.

But if there was something she did know after that day, it was that she felt lucky, damn lucky, for that slip of the tongue.————————————————————————

How idiotic of her the decision was, she didn't want to talk about it.

Pooja had only found herself running the way she was running now on the first day of her residence, and she had only herself, and no one else to blame.

Why did she think that giving up on the most wanted position for every medicine intern in Edenbrook for friends when every one of them participated in it was a good idea?

If only her brain comprehended her priorities appropriately, she wouldn't have to rush through roads like a person who was missing their train.

Panting, grunting, and completely tensed, she arrives at Edenbrook. Steps don't slow down until she arrives before the light beige door, huffs and puffs, not pausing for a split second. She doubted if her legs still had the power to walk or if she would have to crawl into the office.

Nah, no more embarrassment, she would not be able to bear it. With the power that remained in overworked limbs, she knocked, entered and gave her reasons for the delay. And then, by a margin of a minute, she signed the sheet, absolutely normal but still holding the power to twist her entire life in an unforeseen way.

But did she regret it? She couldn't, and she wouldn't.————————————————————————

Miami. The city of gorgeous beaches, giving the aesthetic of peach and teal life. The expensive marble-floored hotel rooms in which she found herself was unreal. Definitely not made for some random intern.

Gorgeous decorated interior, delicately manicured lawns, elegantly made fountains, all standing majestically, giving a fight to each other. She glided through the vast space, joy overcoming job as she breathed the calming salty air coming from the oceanfront, which appeared like a picture frame in front of her. She had never seen anything so perfect in her life.

It was like Ataraxia.

She preferred Mountains over Beaches. She always had, and without a doubt, she always will. But when something looks so heavenly, it would be absolute stupidity to forego the chance of visiting it, even if it contrasted her preferences.

Forgetting the not-so-pleasant interaction with Declan Nash, which appeared like a stone in her perfect day, she let her sensations delve into the delicious culinary masterpieces that melted in her mouth like wax.

All the merrymaking and socializing drained her. But the gentle talks, soft giggles that she shared with him, an extraordinary, priceless moment, seemed to charge her, rejuvenate her. A corner of her heart did hope for something to happen. But she hushed it, not wanting to spoil the casualness, the beauty of the simplicity that blew in the air between them.

It felt like existing in the setting of one of those Michael Faudet quotes, one of them particularly being emphasized by her mind.

"As our eyes meet, all-time seizes to exist. The dying second frozen like petals of red roses kissed by autumn frost."

Pooja's mind still reeled, falling freely into the void as passion and some unnamed emotion overtook them. His heart steady under the touch of her palm and hers racing under the touch of his. She would not be able to remove the unreal image from her idiot of a heart, even if she wanted to.

Sleep refused to come to her, even after calling it repeatedly. She sat up, relieving the memory, playing in front of her like a sepia movie on the silver screen. Eyes travelling around, only to fall on a bouquet kept neatly at one of the antique corner tables.

It was white lilies and purple orchids.

Pooja Sharma didn't know the language of flowers when she received them, with a tag casually signed as E. A vague tag like that did not help to know the actual sender. The man whom she kissed had a name beginning with E, the hotel she was staying in had a name beginning with E.

Hell, even the hospital she worked in had a name with the letter E.

But if she had known the language of flowers, she would have pinpointed the symbolism hidden in it.

The White Lily carrying the meaning of Purity, Sweetness while Purple Orchids a clear cut indicator of admiration and elegance.

She would have been able to tell which E had sent the delicately wrapped piece that now lay uncared for in the corner of her room.

Feelings overcrowded reason, and she found herself suffocated in the very room that seemed heavenly to her in the morning.

Slowly and silently, she walked away to find the solace which he or she could not give her, in nature.

Flashback ends

As the amaranthine ocean glistens, waves crash and the foamy water rushes to engulf her feet as she stood, hands wrapped around herself, she felt she had truly found solace. There was a spiral, an unending coil of memories, a string which, when pulled, tugged in emotions hidden in darkest corners, forgotten but related, all tied together.

It was surprising, enigmatic, how much the little brain of hers, the soft heart of hers, holds in them. A constant battle of reason and emotions ravage the tired battlefields of her body. How casually, reminiscences of a bygone day appears, flicker like the reflection in the mirror of the calm pond water, but remain clear through the ripples that spread on the surface from time to time. That's how memories work, still clear, still dear, even after passing through chaotic ripples of time.

As she reaches the end of the spiral, the helix of her thoughts, she finds herself even more astonished than she was when she reverted to the first pages of the memoirs of her stay in Boston.

It was just a minute, or a word or two. Always so insignificant.

Every ignored act added one upon another and resulted in the catastrophic mess of heartbreak and affection she found herself today.

The 2-minute Power Nap of her first day? It led to the 2-degree shift of the knife and the scar that her finger was tracing now.

That 2-degree shift led to the delay in her reaching the hospital?

It resulted in her meeting her mentor, which gave her the chance to do the thoracotomy with him, to experience how it felt when his hand enveloped hers.

Those two words that slipped as a nonchalant thought off her tongue? It was why she could know how Ethan Ramsey was, behind the tough exteriors, the short-tempered demeanour, how it felt to place her head gently on his shoulder, to wake up to his glowing face.

And that one minute past midnight, when she signed up for the challenge that would change her life? That is why she is here, hair ruffling and eyes glistening, the Leucos Moon reflecting on the glistening water, the crepuscule spread mystically around her. That is why she knew how it felt to be touched by him, kissed by him, to get lost in him.

When Edward Lorenz discovered the butterfly event, he had correlated mathematics and meteorology. Had he thought that the same butterfly effect had turned an unassuming intern's life upside down, pushed her so back in the void of circumstances that it was impossible to come back?

Just a 2-degree shift of a knife, and now she was here in Miami. Just like the unassuming butterfly's flap of wing, which now ravaged a storm through her life.

Glassy droplets make a slow trail down the curve of her cheeks and drop on the scar as if trying to meet the origin which has brought her to the coordinates of the present.

And even though she did not know what would happen in the days to come, she was happy, truly happy, for that shift of her knife and for the 2 minutes of the power nap.

For the butterfly effect of love.

PS: Thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a great day ahead! Love, Manamee🧡.

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