#i am the meat lord

[dollypopup]

sorry, still on this soapbox but

we have really, REALLY done Colin a disservice in this fandom. we spent so long viewing him primarily as a Love Interest and not as a Character. But when we see and analyze him as a character, so many of his actions make sense, and it becomes almost ridiculous, the dynamics we've imposed on this couple (yes, I'm talking about the 'Colin fucked up and needs to prove himself to Penelope' narrative) when there's so much more nuance and beauty to their pairing than we give them credit for

we as the audience focus so much on Penelope's perspective in their relationship, of course, because we have so much of her perspective in the show, and so our frustrations with Colin stem from that, but we get more insight into him than Penelope does. The 'I would never court her' scene that we've been livid over for years is considerably softened when we actually look at Colin as a character, and the circumstances around his actions.

Colin spends season 2 SAD. He is straight up not okay. We leave Colin in Season 1 freshly heartbroken and running away to Greece to heal. In Season 2, we meet him again, considerably more somber. Colin doesn't participate in the dances. He even says 'I'm just a spectator'. Colin talks about how he started a conversation with himself, tried to understand what he wants and how he feels. Colin offers Benedict shroom tea, and for a moment, JUST A MOMENT, we see the facade slip. His mask cracks. 'Are you quite alright, brother?' and then it's gone. Then he's cheerful again. Calm Colin. Nice Colin.

Colin who is okay.

But Colin is *not* okay. Colin completely isolates himself from women. Colin doesn't flirt, doesn't entertain female attention. Colin is heartbroken, trying to be better. But he views Penelope as a friend, a sacred relationship, a worthwhile relationship, and he can't bear to lose her. To him, Penelope is arguably his closest friendship. His best friend. And in an entire town full of people who don't listen to him, he thinks Penelope does. Unlike the typical dynamic of the ton, in which men are ONLY speaking to women by viewing them as potential sexual partners, Colin views Penelope as a whole person. She doesn't just exist as a romantic option to him, but as a vital connection in his life. That's why the 'I am a woman' 'You are. . .Pen' is so important to view as an act of love- Penelope is NOT just a woman as the ton sees her, good for marriage prospects and little else, Penelope is a complete person. Yes, she's a woman, but more importantly, she's PEN. She's a full human being. And he values her as such. We cannot say the same for the grand majority of men in his society. Tell me any other male-female friendships like that in the ton where that level of respect is given?

But for Penelope, it's hurtful, because she WANTS to be seen as a romantic option in his eyes. That's a fair feeling, though we as an audience should recognize that it can be both upsetting to Pen, and also deeply beautiful as a sentiment. Because of Penelope's hopes of Colin as a romantic prospect, she does not see that he is hurting. Because of our connection as a fandom to Penelope, we do not see it, either. But he *is* hurting. In all of Season 2 he's hurting. That's why he throws himself into the Jack mess. He wants, NEEDS a distraction. He wants to find a place in his world, his society. Honestly? He needs a win. He has spent the last year losing and losing and losing. Who can blame him for being sick of it? His engagement blows up, he finds out his family pays no attention to him, that no one cares about his agency, and he's publicly humiliated. If he invests, if he makes money, he might make more male connections. Might run in more important circles. Like his brothers do. Might prove himself. But Colin isn't friends with the men of the ton. We don't see ANY evidence that he has strong friendships with any of them. Because he isn't like them.

He is 22 years old. Treated like a child in his own family. When he talks about his travels, no one listens. Everyone dismisses him. 'Remarkable, yes, in the sense that I have many remarks about it'. Colin is invisible. He is trying to slot himself in his community, but he does not fit neatly into it. He connects with Will, a man outside his community, and Penelope, a woman also outside his community, because *Colin* exists outside his community. He's the foolish boy who fell headfirst for a woman who lied to him. He's the 'green' baby walking in his older brother's footsteps and unable to fill them. He doesn't behave the way other men of the ton do. He doesn't talk like other men of the ton do. Hell, he *apologizes* to women. We have men NOW in the MODERN ERA who don't even apologize to women.

His own *mother* doesn't even notice he was dating someone for several months in season 1. Colin is a pretty, empty ghost wandering around Mayfair, and so of course he's thrown into a locker room conversation with a bunch of guys who have never once seen a woman as a person, and doesn't relate to them. Colin's not joking and having fun with these men. We very purposefully do not see his reaction after he delivers the 'I would never court her' line.

Colin is uncomfortable around them, but he needs their help to make it up to Will, someone who was kind to him and who he looks up to. He has the mask on so firmly in that scene, it's physically obvious to see. If you compare his reactions around Penelope to his reactions around Fife, it's stark. With Penelope he's open, his eyes are soft, his expression is curious and kind, his shoulders are relaxed. Around Fife he's closed off, eyes hard, muscles tense. Who can blame him? He's acting. He's acting just like he's acting around Jack.

When we look at Colin as a whole character, we get insight into his actions and they make SENSE. The things he say that hurt Penelope are things that are actually defending her- Colin saying he wouldn't court her to those men in particular, is an act of caring. He is defending her in that scene. When a debutante is only good for being 'wed, bed, and bred' in their eyes, Colin saying no, that Penelope is worth more than that, that his connection to her isn't forged on wanting to fuck her, or exploit her, or treat her as a sexual object, is radical. Because anything else, ANYTHING else that he says that isn't an outright denial, puts Penelope in danger. He can't let them believe that the woman he cherishes so deeply he cannot even ENTERTAIN the idea of not talking to her is out here being ruined by his hands.

And when we see it that way, we see that, in reality, of all the men in the series, Colin is the one who has been kindest to his love interest. Colin is the one who has defended her, the one who has stuck his neck out for her, the one who has cared for her with absolutely no expectations of sex or romance in return.

Colin's relationship to Penelope is beautiful, and sure, she can be upset that it isn't in the exact shape she wants it to be, but I think if she takes a step back and looks at it more objectively, if WE take a step back and look at it more objectively, Colin has only ever gone into it with a big, earnest heart. Not PERFECTLY, of course, he isn't perfect, but with the best intentions, and with as much honesty as he can.

And I don't know why we don't celebrate him more for it

#colin bridgerton #polin #penelope featherington #lord fife #bridgerton #once again i am first and foremost a colin apologist #but also like. . .he really does deserve better #he's in this city with all these ain't shit men around him #you think fife has EVER apologized to a woman???? #cho??? #most of these men are viewing women on the marriage market as meat #at the very least colin sees penelope as a human being #he listens to her he appreciates her he tells her openly that he cares about her #there is not one man who has treated a woman with this much tenderness without already being romantically interested in her #and that should be CELEBRATED not demonized

[qomrades]

fighting a war between not getting mad at service workers ive been there i KNOW how hard it is and holy fuck my work break is not long enough for this i need my food NOW

#this girl is so fucking slow though. like i used to work at this chain and she is So Fucking Slow. my God #txt #manifesting not being a hater so hard rn. i will not get mad i will not get mad i will not get mad i will NOT GE #like liveblpg play by play it took her like a whole damn minute tp put the meat on this damn sandwich MAAM. #SHE SERVED THE GUY BEHIND ME BEFORE ME. FUCK #I AM ON. MY 20 MINUTE LUNCH BREAK #that took like the full 20 i took a gamble deciding to go to on my break but lord was it a bad one. #wathcing this girl make food was like wathcing fucking paint fry. each piece if cheese individually peelws and placed with perfect precision #like girl this is NOT spongebob v Neptune krabby patty showdown please make my sandwich with haste #anyway my hating is over. FOR NOW

[quicksiluers]

back on my bullshit of writing long ass chapters for stories

#my ramblings #i'm like...almost 3000 words into this chapter and am just about now to get into the meat of it?? #lord help me #but hey got into the zone tonight i think i wrote 2k? nice

[dubiousdoctors]

ow ow ow ow OW

#meat whinge again. whee. #my ribs hurt So much dear lord. and unfortunately I am pretty sure that it is because I've been wearing my binder for far too long. #so now any tight-fitting garment causes the Ouch... which is no good because I've basically got to leave my chest to do whatever it wants #which is in itself a deeply unpleasant sensation #and never mind the (very probably) infected cut right smack in the middle of my chest too... #hate it in here (the suitcase made of meat that houses my brain)

[re-imagine]

Was planning to play totk for a few minutes..just wanted to get to satori mountain but i ended up completing 2 shrines, explored 2 caves, picked 80 apples, took 30 new pics for the compendium, tamed a bear and killed a hinox :)

#now it's 2 am 🤡 #it's ok. thats what summer is for #thisbplace has lots of animals for meat but i cannot kill them :((( #it makes me sad. the lord of the mountain would be mad lmao

[jointherebellion215]

His Kiss, The Riot

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x female!reader

Summary: When you and your secret lover make plain to Feyd-Rautha your wishes for a life together, despite the proposed arranged marriage, he surprisingly acquiesces. But he can't let you go so easily, can he? Loosely based on the song from Hadestown.

Word Count: 1.6k

TW: manipulation, Dark!Feyd-Rautha, arranged marriage, NONCON elements, gore, violence, she/her pronouns, female!reader, tragedy, star-crossed lovers, songfic, not quite a happy ending (oops), dark dark dark interpretations of Hadestown and the story of Orpheus and Eurydice.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who read If It's True and liked, reblogged, or commented. I appreciate every single one of you. As always, I would love some feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs if you can :)

This is Part Two to my Feydestown trilogy (I'm so sorry for the pun). You can read Part One here.

AO3

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Dune properties, characters, or storylines-- nor do I own anything related to Hadestown. The images used in this are not my own, and any similarities to stories or events other than what are directly referenced are strictly coincidence.

The devil takes this Orpheus

And his belladonna kiss

“So you wanna get married? Take away the woman I just offered my hand to, to whom I all but have legal claim?”

Your beloved’s replied words of affirmation to his words hold the slightest tremor, but like a dog to fresh meat, Feyd-Rautha sniffs this out immediately. Another smile graces his face. Feyd speaks to the crowd now, “Yes, I was promised the Lady’s hand in marriage. But! I am a benevolent figure, so I guess I’ll let the lovebirds go.”

The crowd starts to give polite applause, while your knees grow weak at the news. You can go? Has love really prevailed on this day?

“However,” and with that, your heart drops “I have some conditions for these… nuptials.”

You could sense the air growing thick with tension as the reality of the na-Baron’s ruling twists out of your favor.

“Conditions?” You whispered.

“Of course, my darling! I can’t make this too easy on you, now can I?” Feyd paces back and forth on the steps from which he speaks, making your eyes dart back and forth with each step he takes. Vigilance overtakes your body in case of any rash decisions.

“You two can leave the city, but it won’t be hand in hand. This pair will have to walk in single file, with the boy in the front and my darling Lady at least thirty paces behind. No ships, no speeders, no running. Walking.”

The energy of the room starts to grow more electric as the points of this term seem to set in.

“The Lady cannot speak out or make any indication of her following behind. You’ll be faced forward the whole journey. Once you reach the edge of the city and passed the threshold, you can be together for eternity.”

Your breath hitched. Seems easy enough, right?

“But, if the boy so much as turns his head to check and see if the Lady is following, the deal is off. She’ll return to me, and we will be married.”

Nothing makes a man so bold

As a woman’s smile and a hand to hold

“Is this a trick?” Your beloved asks plainly.

Feyd tilts his head, pacing down the steps to ground level. “Now, what makes you say that? I’m being generous. I’ve set my terms.” He is now nose-to-nose with the man attached to you. 

“Now meet them or face the consequences.”

The hand holding yours is now pooled with sweat. You quickly and subtly jerk the arm of your beloved when he starts to protest, not recognizing a gift when he sees one. You bow, the picture of poise and grace that you were raised to be. There is still time to leave with all of your limbs intact, you could not afford to slip up now.

“We offer our most sincere gratitude, my Lord na-Baron. Thank you for this most auspicious opportunity. We will not squander it.” 

Your beloved gives a clumsy bow to match yours. Feyd’s manic smile grows as he clasps his hands together. The sound echoes through the hall.

“So it shall begin!” 

But all alone his blood runs thin

And doubt—doubt comes in

The pair of you hold hands, side-by-side, at the entrance of the palace gates. A crowd has followed you to the edge, with onlookers from the outside spectating the unexpected appearance of a noble. Occurrences like this did not happen often, if ever.

“You heard the terms. The Lady must walk thirty steps behind. She must not speak to you.” Your hands reluctantly separate, following the orders you were given. You can feel your heart pounding with each step that you take away from each other.

“Some of my guard will accompany you, to ensure that you comply to the letter.” Four Harkonnen warriors step forward and encase you in a square formation, leaving the love of your life alone and vulnerable. He looks back towards you, fear and doubt creeping into his eyes. You nodded at him, believing that you could succeed in your task. That you would prevail.

“You may begin.” Feyd voices, and with that—you start your journey. Step by step, you walk further through the foliage that immediately surrounds the castle gates and into the city square.

Once you and your beloved reach the horizon, Feyd turns to walk past the crowd and back into the corridor.

Your father, the Duke, bows quickly and offers his gratitude, but is ignored as the younger Harkonnen goes to gather his blade and shield. With a yell, he summons his guards to formation. As Feyd checks the integrity of his weapon, one of the Baron’s advisors tentatively steps towards him.

“My Lord, perhaps you should consider letting them go—” In the blink of an eye, the man is silenced with a swift slash to the throat. Blood spills through the advisor’s hands as he struggles to put pressure on the opening. His body flops to the floor and Feyd carelessly steps over the writhing body to march forward.

“Let’s go fetch my bride.”

Dangerous this jack of hearts

It had been almost an hour of walking by this point. There had been almost a dozen times where you wanted to give any audible indication to your lover that you were here. A whisper, a whistle, a stomp of your foot. Anything. But now you could see the edge of the city, you could almost taste it. 

A life with your love was within reach. 

The guards accompanying you shifted inward, almost boxing you in. You were hopeful, but nerves were creeping in.

This was going well. Too well.

The grand arch signifying the edge of the city was above your lover now. The field that you used to meet at in secret lay just beyond it. You’re almost there. Just twenty more steps and you could be together, forever. 

He steps over the threshold, you see his shoulders lift and fall in an exhale. Then, the man you had fallen in love with— who you wholly believe in— slowly turns his head to lock eyes with you. A pale figure steps out from behind a pillar accompanying the arch.

The growing smile on your face immediately falls. You call out his name.

Oh no. 

The na-Baron tsked and shook his head, as if scolding a child. Harkonnen troops flanked the area, giving Feyd-Rautha enough berth to have his fun. The three of you were surrounded, but only one really had the advantage.

“You were so close!”

Your beloved held out a hand, “Wait, wait! I made it over!” He started to back away in fear, unarmed and exhausted from the long walk. Colorful, ripe foliage brushed his legs as he back into your field.

“Ah, but she didn’t. So, face the consequences.”

Then his blade pierced the man you love. 

Your ears started to ring, throat working itself raw as you wailed. Tears blurred your vision, you could hear the gurgles of the blood leaving your fiancé’s mouth and the slosh of his newly disemboweled entrails hitting the lush field before you.

With his kiss, the riot starts

His body made a sick thud on the floor, and your body jumped along with it. 

You ran towards your dead lover, cradling his face and sobbing for the soul that was just ripped away from you. He didn’t deserve such a violent end. His only crime was loving you and being loved in return.

A chuckle sounded from above you, and you turned your tear-stained face to the brutal Harkonnen. He was covered in the blood of your lover, his spoils of war staining his pale skin. Black teeth on full display, his shoulders gave a slight shake as he expressed his humor. His laughter sparked a rage in you like you’d never seen before. It didn’t matter what bonds you may or may not have formed over the conversations you had the last week. He’s a monster. He needs to pay for what he’s done. 

Red flooded your vision.

With a roar, you lunged for the man. His laugh grew more manic as you smacked, punched, kicked, and hit every visible part of him that you could identify. In your grief, every ounce of training that you received flew out the window. He took every blow with a smile, as if he enjoyed the punishment you were attempting to bestow on him.

“There we go, my darling. Show me your pain. Your rage!”

Your mind started to clear with the more hits you landed. With a quick swipe, you had the weapon that killed your beloved against the naBaron’s neck. The Harkonnen soldiers immediately stepped forward, but Feyd stopped them with a wave of his arm.

“Ah ah ah! Leave her be.” His grin almost split his face in half, specks of dried blood making a painting of his face. 

“Do it. Go ahead, come on.”

He pressed his neck forward, purposefully putting pressure on his own blade. Fresh blood started to trickle down his neck, adding to the gallons already spread all over his uniform. 

The shock of his willingness to put his life on the line made you hesitate, which made him cackle in your face. Your anger made you draw the blade back and slice it across his chest. A groan left Feyd’s mouth, 

“Good girl.”

An unexpected thunk to the head made your vision start to spin. Feyd’s arms braced around you, slowly lowering you to your knees and down to a lying position. He cradled your head as if you were a precious commodity, when he leaned forward and captured your limp lips with his. 

As black started swallowing your vision, you heard him say,

“Don’t worry, my darling bride. It’ll all be alright. You won’t feel a thing.”

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd harkonnen #feyd x you #house harkonnen #feyd fanfiction #feyd rautha fanfic #feyd rautha fanfiction #dune #dune part two #dune 2024 #dune part 2 #dune 2 #austin butler character #austin butler x reader #austin butler fandom #jada writes sometimes #hadestown #inspired by hadestown #hadestown au #kinda #eurydice!reader #feyd rautha x female reader #feyd rautha x oc

[occamstfs]

Diet Diaries

Hi all! Thank you so much for 500 followers! Here's a little style switch up to celebrate, got a lotta refs in this one and I quite leaned into the diary entries so I hope it's not too much! Hope y'all enjoy this stereotype reversal and as always, best! -Occam

Monday March 21st-

Andy:

I am beyond sick of Steve. Moving in together was a mistake, I don’t care how cheap the rent is, he is a narcissistic slob and I am eager to never see him again. Well no, I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. Our R.A. had this idea to try and walk in each other's shoes, which I don’t know? It might not be the worst thing? My big idea was switching diets actually- honestly I’m just hoping if he ate more like me he’ll stop stinking up the dorm. I can dream at least. Literally though he just can’t go to the gym as often if he eats like me. If I'm lucky at the very least his deodorant will last longer, I cannot take another day of his b.o. seeping through the walls, ugh! Anyway, wish me luck! I’m sure this will be a breeze for me, he usually just eats junk anyway, hope he enjoys my salads~

Steve:

Andy that little fucker. He was being such a little bitch to James and now I’ve gotta eat his rabbit food for a week or lose this bet or whatever. Steve don’t lose tho. Lil twink’s gotta eat whatever I make him too and you can bet your ass I’m gonna make him match my macros if I’ve gotta starve myself like he wants. Fuck! This shit is going to absolutely tank my routine! I’ve gotta make Andy give up. I’m gonna go so hard on him he’ll have to hit weights if he doesn't want to blow up like a pig. Maybe then he’ll stop bitching any time I don’t fucking shower every time I get back home. 

Tuesday March 22nd-

Andy:

My Lord! He is trying to kill me! I don’t know how anyone could consistently eat as much as he’s telling me to. I’m so bloated from all this food.. He looks so smug every time he tells me to keep eating, I’m sure he doesn’t eat like this. He’s just trying to break me but I’m not going to let him win this easy.

Ugh, I feel so bloated my pants are so tight on my waist. I didn’t think meat sweats were a thing but man I am needing to put on deodorant like twice a day now and I’m not even exercising. I will say that now that I’m eating so much, I don’t hate the idea of going to the gym. It’s been a while since I went but I should probably at least hit up the treadmill lest I get even more of a gut- maybe I’ll see if he wants to go tomorrow. This is all just an exercise to understand each other more after all, no need to make it a stupid competition like he wants eh~

Steve:

Fuck! I am so tired of Andy’s pussy-ass diet. I had absolutely no energy at the gym today, I told all my bros that I was just gonna take it easy but fuck! I really was working my ass off and I struggled to even meet a PR I set last week. It was supposed to be a push day and I didn’t even get a chest pump! Why the fuck am I still going. I’m abso-fucking-lutely not getting gains on his fuckin’ bitch-ass salads and oats.

Eatin’ like a fucking twink and the fucker has the nerve to ask to go to the gym with me tomorrow. I’ll make sure he regrets that >:) Gonna work him like a horse so he’ll throw in the towel! After feeling how sore actually working on yourself makes ya, he might actually learn something. I’ll turn in early so I can go all out and show him what a real man looks like.

Wednesday March 23rd-

Andrew:

Man! I totally get why Steven eats so much now~ I am absolutely raring to go and get this; He said I could go to the gym with him today! He even seemed like he wanted me to go with him! I feel like I have more energy than I’ve ever had before, I might even try some weights!! I don’t know but I’m so excited! It’s like I can feel my chest and biceps begging me to go and hit some iron haha! Or whatever those “bros” say~ I hope he’s got something good planned for lunch because I fuck Sorry! I just want to show him that I can do all this dude stuff too! I’m a man right? I guess all this protein is making me feel more like a man than usual idk. Either way though I’m ready to go! Hope we have some fun!

Steven:

That bitch’s fuckin’ fru fru salads are ruining my PR’s for sure! I bet he knew that when he begged me to take him to the gym today, knew it was the only time he could show off to me was when I’m so out of it. And he didn't! Just to be clear I could still wipe the floor with  him even if I’m not at my A-game. Ugh, I do gotta hand it to the little fucker though. I KNOW he hasn’t even really set foot in a gym before but man. Beginners luck my ass, as soon as I showed him a technique he lifted like he’s been doing it his whole life! It’s like I could see his pecs and tris swelling up with each lift. Not that I was staring at the bitch or anything but he’s just I just need this fuckin’ diet thing to end so I can get back to my grind, I guess I wouldn’t hate taking him to the gym more often, would be hot to make a bitch into a bro Fuck! What am I writing, I just need to lift again.

Thursday March 24th-

Andrew: 

Bro! Weird? Whatever, I am absolutely on fire! Steven’s diet is absolutely killer! I don’t know how it’s working so well but man I couldn’t care less, I felt like a pro in there! My coaches in school would always shit on me for not trying but man! I was barely trying yesterday but I could tell from the look on Steven’s face that I was acing it! I guess I’ll have to admit to him that he is definitely onto something with his macros but man, not until he gives up haha! Man, I need to chill haha, it’s not like I’m any stronger than I was Monday but man, looking at myself in the mirror it just seems like my clothes are just fitting better. Catching on my chest rather than my stomach y’know? I’ve never noticed that there is muscle on my arms before but man the way my sleeves are kinda hugging my biceps mm. I need to chill haha! Can’t use all my energy before hitting the gym again today!

OH! Also totally weird, I’ve had to shave twice this week! Once last night and then again this morning which is so weird! I’m not complaining though, it’s not like I wouldnt look hot with a beard right? Although my face is a little itchy already, my chest too? Whatever though haha! Time to head back to the grind lol!

Steven:

God!! Andy Andrew is being such an asshole! He’s clogging the sink shaving which I know he would so be on my ass if I had done that. Wait, he did get on my ass for shaving! But it hasn’t been a problem this week, it’s like I’m not even growing stubble for some reason? Probably from not working so hard at the gym, is that how that works? Whatever it’ll be over as soon as this stupid diet thing is. We’re halfway through now. Thank God! Because that fucking twink is starting to stink up the dorm which again!! He was such a little bitch all the time to me about that! It’s like he’s literally stopped using deodorant as soon as he started needing it! He’s never exerted himself in his life and now that his pits are sweating at all he’s suddenly allergic to hygiene, ugh! I saw last night too the fucker fell asleep with his head in his pit too so it’s not like he doesn’t know it. 

It was a little surprising actually, cause I would’ve sworn he was hairless like one of those freak cats but man his pit was as thick as my pubes! Thicker maybe, uh? Man I wish I could get that image out of my head, it’s like the tuft was pushing out further each time he inhaled, man that’s kinda hot? Fuck! I swear this twink-ass diet is making me think like him too. I need to sneak to the gym later, without him. I cannot have him getting ahead even while I’m still on his chickenshit diet.

Friday March 25th-

Steven:

Ah!! That Little bitch! He was already at the gym when I got there! Ugh! It makes me want to punch a wall, or fight him. Or something I dont know! It’s just, he was lifting my body weight on the bench when he saw me, it was so ho ugh! It doesn’t matter what it was, I can’t stop thinking of that smug look on his face- what I would give to wipe it off… That absolute prick knew what he was doing. Ugh, speaking of pricks! He may as well have not been wearing shorts at all by how much his cock was showing through them.

I knew my meal prepping was fucking tight but man, I can’t believe hot its made him. It just really fucking turns me on, or no its such a turn on for chicks. Yeah. Whatever. I need this bet to end already. Clearly he’s totally obsessed with my lifestyle so he should just admit it already! Also, hate to say it, but to Andrew’s credit his diet ain't too bad either. I’d never tell him this, and it is all a little emasculating but my skin has never looked this good. I’m not even doing skincare or anything but it’s like I’ve been on a routine for years, it’s crazy! It’s still ruining my upper gains but man, my ass looks so good it's crazy..

Oh also re: facial hair, I woke up this morning and could’ve sworn I used to have chest hair but now it looks like I’ve got just a little left around my nipples and leading up from my pubes? I might go ahead and shave those too, might as well be totally smooth like a chick right haha, I wonder what Andrew would think? I need to chill haha, maybe I’ll go see if he’s still at the gym~

Andrew:

Fuuuuck dude lol. I should’ve started hitting up the gym ages ago. Don’t know what I was even wasting time on before I started doing twice-a-days? Studying I guess but I can figure that shit stuff out hm. Fuck it is so much better to be strong than a dweeb. Every set it feels like I’m just busting out new PR’s! Gonna need to buy new clothes though cause I am absolutely tearing up my crop tops, my twinky little wardrobe just isn’t cutting it anymore. Maybe Steven’d be down for a clothes swap, I’ve seen him eying up my fits all week, god knows he’ll fit them better lol. Oh haha, and speaking of him eying things up >:) You should’ve seen his little face blush when he walked into the gym this morning! He looked so pissed at me lol, but I’m not gonna grab him to come along every time I need to get some sets in right? It was pretty embarrassing for him yesterday anyway, the way I showed him up lol. I’m not just gonna sit around and watch him not lift weights when I can figure this shit out myself, thought it was supposed to be his thing though lol.

Mm, saying that though, I def didn’t hate having a little audience from his treadmill. God, his blushing face as he stared directly at my work-out chub. Fuck, it really got me going. It really helped my sets too haha. Maybe I should hit him up lol, I can tell how bad he wants me >:)

Saturday March 26th-

Stevie:

Ugh! That douche is walking around the dorm completely shirtless! Do you know what it’s like to have an oaf flexing away across the room from you 24/7! He knows what he’s doing, and thank god my dick isn’t showing through my shorts like I thought it usually does because he might literally pounce on me then-

Ugh! I didn’t even mention this morning. I literally woke up to him jacking off his morning wood! Do you know what a bitch-fit he would have thrown if I did that! He would’ve filed a police report, probably the dweeb, or. I guess I could too?? But it was just so fucking hot. I tried to pretend I was asleep, but he totally caught me. He literally smirked and made eye contact as he finished too- thank god he didn’t see my boner as he asked if I wanted to clean up his mess. He’s such an ass! 

I still have a boner now actually, it’s his B.O. driving me actually crazy! It’s like I can’t think near him if he’s going to stink this bad god.. Oh, he’s doing pullups on the door frame fuck. He’s supposed to be hairless but I see sweat dripping from his pits god I can't. God with each pull up his chest looks even more powerful. His cock is bobbing up and down in his pants and I can not look away. Fuck it’s getting even bigger. I’m supposed to be the strong one right? It’s not, fuck. This isn’t right. He just so fucking, god that body, I need him-

And Drew:

Heh. I knew that fucking twink couldn’t resist me. Every little thing I do wraps him even tighter around my finger. Every flex and smirk turns him on even more I bet he can’t even think straight the way his little dick is losing it in his briefs- I took all his jocks since I’m sure he would need them anymore. Bet the little bitch didn’t even remember they were his.  

Might as well have been drooling when he saw me jacking my cock this morning lol, surprised he didn’t take me up on the offer to lick up the mess. I know he wanted to lol. He’ll get the chance soon enough though >:) God it’s a two-way street though. That fucking twink is so fuckable now, thank god he doesn’t need to shave anymore, don’t want his peachfuzz scratching my cock cause god that mouth is so fuckable now.. To say nothing of his fucking juicy ass, god! I’ve been working out in the room all morning waiting for him to give in and ask me to fuck him, idk if I can hold it in much longer. I might need to jack it again, my balls are bluer than I ever thought they could be, fuck. It’s like they're sore. Ugh I feel them getting heavier, heh, that little fucker cant resist though. God I feel precum starting to pool in my jock. If I put my pit within a foot of his face I give him five before he can’t help but shove his face in. I need to fuck him, but as if I’m going to let him see how desperate I am. Stevie that little fucker. He’ll be riding my cock any second now.

Sunday March 27th-

Stevie:

Fuck <3 !! He finally fucked me!! God, it was like nothing I’ve experienced before~ His cock was like a beer can and goddd the scratch of his beard as we were making out.. Hehe if I keep thinking about him I might just cum again right now! He can fully toss my body like a ragdoll and I’d thank him ugh! He’s just so hot, and to think he wants to fuck me!! Ah~ I’ll need to keep myself pretty so he won’t get tired of me hehe! Not that it’ll be a problem, I just need to keep on his diet, God who knew it would be this good! I don’t even remember whatever problems we had before all this and I can’t imagine anything better than getting fucked by him <3 Ah! He he~ He’s staring at my ass right now so I guess it’s time for another round! Can’t thank our R.A. enough for this idea, well he he I’ve got an idea for how to thank him, oh! Drew’s ripped off his jock! Wish me luck he he~

Drew:

My little bitch is so tight, fuck. I’m surprised he can even take my cock but god can he ride it. Gonna have a hard time taking a break from fucking him to even hit the gym. Need to make sure the twink keeps up the diet tho or we’ll have an issue. Be sure to make him come to the gym whenever I do, if not to tighten up then to watch me heh. Won’t hate fucking him in the locker room too. Mm, God his fucking tiny body makes me feel so powerful. And I fucking am. God my bis are the size of his thick thighs, fuck his ass. My cock is straining my jock just thinking about it. His tiny waist ugh, I need my sweaty body over him now. Not like he’ll mind, the horny fucker. Mmm hope he’s ready to take my cock, bet his mouth is already watering heh. Pop my pecs at him and he’ll struggle not to cum on the spot, he better keep it together until I let him though. Can’t be having my bitch blow his load that fast. Thank fuck he’s chilled out finally, though I guess my cock’ll work wonders on anyone >:) speaking of it’s about that time again. Hope he’s ready for some more action, hate to have to find another hole.

#male tf #mental change #masculinization #twinkification #jockification #straight to gay

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Studious IV (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

You continue reading Aemond's diary. As his true feelings for you become ever more clear, can you decipher your own feelings for him?

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: Aemond in his smut writer era (semi-public sex, p in v sex, tiddy suckin', riding, fingering, oral sex f receiving, bad sex)

Author's Note: So sorry for the delay! But this baby is 11K words, so hopefully that makes up for it! Also, I tried for a long time to format this like the others, but tumblr wouldn't let me post it if I did, so the formatting is a little different here.

Read Part I Here - Read Part II Here - Read Part III Here

My Masterlist

Taglist will be done via reblogs (there are simply too many of you to fit here)

Studious IV

You were never setting foot in the library again.

Not after what you just read. Not when you were sure that the mere memory of it would have you bursting into flames the moment you crossed the threshold.

Good gods, only a few entries ago, Aemond could hardly bring himself to write the word ‘cunt,’ and now this? What in the Seven Hells were his advisors – Grand Maester Orwyle, Lord Jasper Wylde, and Prince Aegon – teaching him?

You weren’t sure whether the odd feeling in your stomach was due to how much you ate – an entire meat pie and five tea cakes, all washed down with a pot and a half of raspberry tea – or what you had just read.

Either way, it was not enough to stop you from glancing about your bedchamber to ensure no one was watching you and then rereading the entry from the beginning.

The 16th day in the 5th moon of the year.

I have just returned from the library. Grand Maester Orwyle suggested that I consult a book on anatomy. Since there was no business of court I was required to attend today, I asked one of the librarians to help me retrieve the title after I finished my training.

I also found a few books Aegon recommended, only after I dismissed the librarian – I did not want him to know that I took those. Or that I even knew what they were. Gossip abounds in the capital, and I do not wish to be the subject of more than I already am.

By the titles alone, I am surprised Mother allows them to remain in the Keep. I likely will not read most of them. Aegon has already traumatised me quite thoroughly. I see no reason to allow him to ruin reading for me, as well. Although one title, ‘A Caution for Young Girls,’ seems innocent enough.

But the books are not why I am writing now, when my usual routine is to write immediately before I retire to bed. I just… I need to commit this to paper before it leaves me entirely.

On my way out of the library, I saw her. My wife – if I die tomorrow or in a hundred years, I shall never tire of calling her that.

She has quickly found the more private areas of the library, it seems. I would never have seen her if I had not been considering going there to read myself.

It must mean something that she did not choose just any of the countless hidden places within the maze of the library, but my favourite – a secluded alcove along the western wall. An indicator of our compatibility, perhaps. Or even a sign from the gods?

Had the books I’d been carrying not been so… unsuitable, I would have asked to join her.

No, I wouldn’t have. That would require far more courage than I can summon when I see her.

I just stared at her, watching her face as she read. From where I stood, I could not see what she was reading. But I could see her, and that was enough.

She is so expressive! I saw her both smile and frown in quick succession, and once, her entire face scrunched in displeasure as if she had just taken a bite of lemon! Gods, how can even such an unpleasant expression be so beautiful?

Perhaps I should not have watched her at all, for the longer I stood there, the further my mind drifted. And then, I heard Aegon’s voice, as clearly as if he were standing beside me.

‘Don’t limit yourself to the bedchamber brother, or even the bed! A wall or a table serves just as well. And there is a certain thrill to knowing you could be discovered…’

Damn him. Why did I ever ask for his assistance? I would have been better off enlisting the help of an actual whore! At least then, the vulgarity would not come from the future King. Damn him to the deepest of the Seven Hells.

But that stupid advice echoed in my mind over and over. And against my will and better judgement, an image began to form. A dream – a waking dream.

Though my feet remained planted on the floor, I imagined setting aside my books and joining her in that alcove. She would look up and smile upon hearing my approach, perhaps even giggle at my attempt at stealth.

I would sit beside her and ask what she was reading. I might even ask her to read to me. But I would not let her read for long.

I would kiss her while she read. Not on her lips but all over her perfect face. Her cheeks, her forehead, on the tip of her nose. All just to distract her, to make her laugh. Only when she made so much noise that I feared discovery would I kiss her lips to quiet her and finally claim my prize.

The kiss would not be like in the Sept, or in her chambers that night. Instead, she would kiss me back and open herself to me. I would kiss her, and kiss her, and kiss her. Until we were both out of breath but still wanting more.

Seeing her like that, with her lips swollen and cheeks flushed… I would not be able to wait until we returned to our chambers. I would lift her onto that very table, books be damned.

Like our wedding night, we would not undress. We would be in too much of a hurry.

But even hurried, I would be gentle. I would take the time to prepare her, as Lord Wylde said I must do every time. Doing so makes the experience more pleasurable for the woman, he says. And Orwyle added that her enjoyment makes it more likely that the coupling will be fruitful.

Gods, I hardly care about that anymore. Of course, I want an heir, or several. But I want her more. I want her to feel as much pleasure as I do. To ‘peak,’ as Wylde and Orwyle put it. Aegon uses other words, but I find them too vulgar.

And in the library, making an heir would be the last thing on my mind. Even finding my own pleasure would be secondary. I would use my fingers to prepare her – perhaps get her to peak once before I even enter her?

Aegon says women can find release much more than men can. According to him, he once made a woman peak ten times in one night. I would be more amenable to believing him if he didn’t also claim he did so five times. But maybe he is right about ‘practising’ increasing stamina. Though he has had years of practice, and I have had only two days…

But in the dream world where I have the courage to approach her at all, and the gall to bed her in the library of all places (can you call it ‘bedding’ if it is not done in an actual bed?), I also have that stamina. And the skill to indeed make her peak with just my fingers.

I do not know what sounds she would make, as she was entirely silent on our wedding night, but I would want her to make them. I would want her to make such noise that I would have no choice but to kiss her to quiet her and keep her from drawing the attention of the rest of the library.

Even when I was buried within her, I would kiss her. With one arm wrapped around her hips to hold her steady as I fucked her so hard the table would shake, and the other hand tangled in her hair so I could kiss her just as hard.

I want to kiss her so badly. When I finally go to her again, that is what I will do first.

Once we had both finished – for I would ensure she peaked again with me inside her – I would kiss her more, softly, until our breathing steadied. Then, we would simply take our seats again, and this time, I would read to her.

By all the Seven, what has become of me? To not only have such thoughts but to revel in them as I do?

You didn’t bother reading the rest of the entry again before clutching the diary to your chest and staring at the bed canopy above you as a thousand questions burned through your mind and set your heart racing.

Had he been thinking about that the day he came to you in the library?

Was it what he intended to do, had you not reacted so poorly to his words?

Were you really wishing that he had?

You turned on your side, cradling his diary as you once did a small stuffed pony, and noticed for the first time that night had fallen – you had spent nearly the entire day reading. For a moment, you considered running to Aemond’s chambers. But when you looked back at the journal, there were still more than a dozen ribbons shut in its pages.

And if you went to him just after reading what you did…

Whatever was becoming of Aemond, no doubt thanks to the men he had asked for help in better bedding you, by reading his diary and the most private thoughts and fantasies contained within, it was becoming of you too. For when your eyes drifted closed, Aemond’s dream of the library became your dream as well.

-

The next several days of entries were almost identical.

Aemond woke at dawn after a night of dreams filled with you. They were not always of a carnal nature. Sometimes he dreamed simply of holding or kissing you. Once, he dreamed about flying with you atop his dragon. You didn’t know whether the prospect was thrilling or terrifying. Perhaps both.

Each day, he broke his fast, trained, then ate a small meal before joining court.

Before joining you.

When he wrote in the diary after dinner and several hours of studying and ‘practising’ (you still could not determine what that meant), he still remembered every little thing you did. You had never spoken at court – it was not your place to. But he had catalogued your every movement and reaction to the business of the realm. Every raise of your brows, every repressed smile, and every curious tilt of your head.

You thought you were quite proficient at maintaining a regal mask of indifference. Your mother had you practice it on the journey to King’s Landing while she commanded your brothers to shout at you the most outrageous things they could think of (much of which she promptly scolded them for when they were done).

But Aemond saw through the mask. Not only that, but he correctly interpreted every movement you made.

He knew that the twitch of your lip when Lord Bolton made a petition was a sign of your marked distaste for the man. He knew the scrunch of your brow upon the reading of a missive from a Pentosi diplomat was you noticing a contradiction from the previous message and realising the diplomat was lying. And he knew that you stiffened every time he looked at you because you were nervous about what he would say or do.

Aemond knew you. Even then.

And yet you had so dreadfully misunderstood him.

The shame of it was enough to make you set down the diary and call for a bath – a private bath, without any of your maids present even in the adjourning rooms. You gave an excuse that you were exhausted and simply wished to remain alone.

But really?

As part of his study of the anatomy book Orwyle recommended, Aemond had drawn a diagram of what lay between a woman’s legs. And annotated it based on the advice of Lord Wylde and Prince Aegon.

You were curious to see – with the aid of a hand mirror – just how accurate the diagram and annotations were.

-

You awoke the following morning feeling more refreshed than you had since you came to the palace, from both the welcome break in your courtly duties and the exploration you had conducted in the privacy of your bath. Though you were fairly sure you did not reach a ‘peak,’ as Aemond described it, you felt close to the height of something several times. But each time, you panicked at the intensity of the racing feelings within you and withdrew your hand. Still, those few minutes of pleasure were incredibly relaxing.

And as it was Aemond’s notes that allowed you to discover the feeling that your own clumsy attempts had failed to bring, the prospect that you would – eventually – once more join him in his bed became thrilling beyond reason.

In truth, the only thing that stopped you from rushing across the castle the very moment you emerged from the bath was the unfortunate fact that you were still bleeding, though it was light.

More than that, while your body was more than ready to forgive Aemond, your heart and mind were still hesitant. He had hurt you. He made you cry. Reading his diary helped you understand that it had never been intentional. However, you still needed to understand everything before making a final decision on whether to forgive him and if you could, as Aemond hoped in his note, ‘learn to like’ or even to love him.

So, after breaking your fast, you again settled into the couch and turned to the next green ribbon.

The 23rd day in the 5th moon of the year

Were Aegon not my brother and the heir, I would throw him from the top of the Rookery.

‘A Caution for Young Girls’ is no such thing. It is little more than a manual in promiscuity and sin!

But… damn him. It is quite educational.

Unlike the book Grand Maester Orwyle suggested, it is not focused on the science of anatomy or conception. Rather, it is entirely concerned with the pleasure of women. After all, it is the supposedly true story of a woman’s quest for pleasure.

A Wylde woman, if it is to be believed. I may have to ask Lord Jasper about it. Is this why he’s had such success with his own wives?

But that, and indeed the sinful nature of the book itself, is unimportant. What is important is that it may actually be the key to my learning how to pleasure my wife.

It spoke at length of various methods of using one’s fingers. Crooking the fingers while within seems to be crucial, as is locating a ‘sweet spot’ where her walls feel slightly different. That spot, as well as the ‘pearl’ which lays at the top of her sex, is the epicentre of her pleasure.

And, like the others said, preparation is required. This is where the use of the fingers comes into it – as well as various other methods. For example, the book mentions kissing quite often, and not only on the lips. Or the cheeks. Or even anywhere on the face.

I admit the idea, though it is new to me, is quite appealing. The book mentioned several places where women most like to be kissed. The jaw, the throat, behind the ear, the nape of the neck, the collarbone…

There was a spot of ink, as though Aemond’s pen had been resting on the page without moving for a long moment.

…the breasts, and lower.

I do not understand why. Perhaps it is because of Aegon’s incessant comments about the breasts of every woman in the Keep, save our mother and his wife – would that he would also exclude my wife! – but I find myself thinking about her breasts with startling frequency. I did not get to see them on our wedding night after I foolishly forgot to undress her.

There is a story in the book which… well, I find myself wanting to replicate. One which would provide me ample access to her breasts. But more than that, it carries an intimacy which I crave most of all.

When Lady Coryanne was serving as a handmaid to a warlock in Qarth, she often found herself called to help him ‘relax’ after a long day. On such occasions, she would mount him while he sat at his desk and ‘ride’ him while he buried his face in her breasts.

I… it was easy to imagine my wife and me in a similar, though more loving, position. Likely not at my desk, as I don’t actually use it often. But perhaps, here. On my chair by the hearth, where I read my books and write in this diary before bed.

She would come back – for she would be living here, with me, not across the Holdfast and so far away – after a long day. Maybe she would have been in the gardens, or with Mother, Helaena and the children, or in the library for hours. I would have been stuck away from her all day in meetings, court, or training.

Even apart from her for only a day, I would miss her terribly. As I do every hour I do not see her. And she would miss me too.

When she came in, she would press herself against the door as she locked it, then turn to me with a mischievous grin. I would know what she wanted, but I would not play along. Instead, I’d mutter a greeting and turn back to my book, pretending that my blood was not racing at just the sight of her. For I want her blood to be as heated as mine.

You read the last paragraph again, the realisation finally set in that Aemond was about to narrate another of his fantasies. Fortunately, after his previous entry about the library, you decided to be more cautious and had already dismissed your servants until your afternoon meal. You had suspected that there may be more in the diary that was thoroughly unsuitable for prying eyes.

And, thanks to his diligent notetaking, you knew precisely what to do when the feelings such unsuitable words provoked began to burn through you.

You undoubtedly did not want an audience for that…

I would let her tease me, pretending none of it fazed me. When she brushed her fingers lightly across my shoulders, I would not flinch. When she leaned over me further than she would really need to see what I was reading, but wanting me to see that peek of her breasts nearly spilling out from her dress, I would barely look. And when she pressed a kiss, long and slow, to my neck – gods, would I like that too? – I might even pretend it was an inconvenience.

It would vex her that I did not give her the attention she desperately wanted. Not enough to truly anger her, but only enough to make her pout. So that when she took the book from my hands and dropped it to the floor, then sat atop me in the chair with her thighs straddling mine… I would simply have no choice but to grab her little lip as she stuck it out and push it back into place before kissing her.

I would kiss her in every place the book instructs, taking my time to worship every bit of her. I want to drive her as mad as she does me just by her mere existence.

But I know she would not simply let me tease her. She would return each kiss I gave her and more. Atop me, she would roll her hips slowly, purposefully, as if we were engaged in a dance. I would be able to feel her, hot and wet and as eager as me, but each time I rose to meet her, she would pull away.

Gods, am I really wishing for her to deny me? Perhaps practising as Aegon instructed has conditioned me to crave such delays to my satisfaction.

Either way, I think I would break before she did. She is strong-willed, and with as many brothers as she has, I believe she can be quite patient. So, I would beg. I would apologise for trying to tease her and plead for her forgiveness. And for her to…

She would, I hope, without hesitation. She would rise only long enough for her to remove her smallclothes and for me to do away with my trousers. Then, we would both sit again, together, with me gently guiding her down to mount me – Seven Hells, that makes it sound like I’m a horse.

I’ll be whatever she wants.

Again, and as always, I would give her a moment to adjust and make sure she is comfortable. Orwyle’s book said that with well-endowed partners – which, according to the measurements in the book, I am – women may always need that moment.

But I would be glad to give it to her. For it would allow me to unlace her bodice, and like the warlock from the book, I could bury my face in my beloved’s breasts.

I find it hard to imagine what it would be like, how they would feel. Soft, I think. Warm, as she is. And perhaps, if I pressed close enough, I could hear her heart beating.

When I was fully settled within her, would I hear it beat faster? Or would it slow with contentment, knowing she was safe and loved – oh so dearly loved – within my arms. Perhaps it would be like the stories, and I would hear it skip a beat.

Either way, I would be more than content to just sit there, breathe her in, and let her move at her own pace. We would not need to be fast, as we would in the library. In my own rooms – our rooms – there would be no need for hurry. We could just stay there, entwined, or we could move together.

I think I would prefer it slowly. Not even seeking our releases, really. Just… enjoying each other. Enjoying the connection of our bodies, our minds, and our souls. Knowing that we are one, that the gods have made us one, and that nothing can tear us apart.

Although… I do think her legs would get tired after a while. That is something I should perhaps be worried about. Especially if she did want to move, and fast. To seek release.

If she did, I would help her. The book did not detail how, as Lady Coryanne was a servant at the time, but… I could figure it out. I could move my hips up to meet hers, or even lift her on my own? I think doing so with my hands on her hips would give me the most leverage. Or perhaps her rear?

I am very drawn to the idea of holding her close as we reach our peaks. Of feeling her breath on my skin, being close enough to hear each little noise she makes, and the sensation of her gripping me as tight as she can as she comes. Even the thought of her nails digging into me brings a certain thrill. And if I don’t reach my peak with her – which, I think, is very unlikely – we can always continue. Or move somewhere more comfortable if her legs do get tired.

At this point, I think I am more than ready to practice. Of course, this wasn’t my intention when I started writing, but… yes, I am most definitely ready. And anything else I wanted to write about seems inconsequential now.

You dropped the diary onto your heaving chest, the image Aemond’s words had painted still burning in your mind. Seven Hells, you could practically feel his strong arms wrapped around you, holding you to his chest as you moved together, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered words of praise between desperate kisses.

With a hazy smile, you snuggled further into the couch and beneath your blanket. As exhilarating as the descriptions of his desires were, what truly warmed your heart was the way he wrote about you, the two of you together.

The connection of your souls as one? It was exactly what you’d dreamed of when first told of your betrothal. Aemond was what you dreamed of.

Why did he have to stop writing? What in the name of the Seven was he practising that was more important than that?

Frustrated and with your pleasure now truly over, you closed the diary and turned on your side, resigned to simply stewing in your own thoughts for the few hours left until your maids returned.

-

After a light, solitary afternoon meal, you again dismissed your maids. By this point, they were more than a little suspicious about the titleless book you were reading. But, you insisted that you simply wanted to be alone, for your moon’s blood still plagued you. It wasn’t entirely a lie. You did still have some cramping and a slight headache.

In truth, it was because you knew what would happen in just a few entries – your second night together.

It surely wouldn’t be as thrilling as some of his other fantasies. You knew that firsthand. But after learning what Aemond felt for you, you were desperate to know his side of that night.

So desperate, in fact, that you barely skimmed the following two entries in your haste to reach it. Both primarily had to do with whatever smut he had read in A Caution for Young Girls. The first was a rather exhaustive list of all the ways he wanted to kiss you – and there were far more ways than you were previously aware of.

The second caused your most intense blushing yet, for it was near treasonous! After reading another story of Coryanne Wylde ‘riding’ a man, he fantasised about you riding him while he sat on the Iron Throne. It was an intriguing idea, but it seemed a little too hazardous to tempt you.

Finally, you reached what you had been waiting for.

The 26th day in the 5th moon of the year.

I had hoped not to make an entry today – for I had every intention of spending tonight in my wife’s chambers. But she is there, and tragically, I am here.

Tonight was almost worse than our wedding night.

When I saw her watching me in the training yard today, I thought… she was almost smiling – at me! She had no obligation to be there, and yet she was! She sought me out! She wanted to see me!

I had to bite back a cry of joy and relief. I immediately abandoned the rest of my training, nearly impaling the poor squire with my sword for how hard I threw it at him, so I could rush to the ramparts and greet her.

But when I got there, she was gone. I asked a few of the other lords and ladies that were there, but no one knew where she went. Even after speaking to her, however briefly, I still do not understand why she left.

You felt your cheeks flush with shame. Aemond hadn’t grimaced at you that day – quite the opposite. He had been so excited to see you there, and as usual, you had misinterpreted his reaction.

Or, based on how frequently these misunderstandings occurred, perhaps his expressions were merely indecipherable to normal people. Or, more likely, maybe just to you.

You set his diary down, careful to use one of your discarded ribbons to mark your place, and picked up your own. By this point, you had filled several pages with your reactions to Aemond’s writing – some of it sincere, some bordering on humour.

Yet you had no words to express how sorry you were that you had so thoroughly misjudged him. So you wrote nothing and just kept reading.

When I went to her chambers to check on her, I encountered one of her maids, who told me she had retired early with a headache and would not be joining the family for dinner.

Perhaps I should have gone into her chambers then and asked what was wrong. I knew – or at least suspected – that the headache was a lie. An excuse to allow her privacy. I often do the same, citing my scar. Which, as I told her, is not always a lie.

But if I had gone to her, as I wished. I would not have known what to say. Ask her why she ran from the training yard without speaking to me? Or why she wanted to avoid me and the family? Tell her I’m sorry for the disappointment of our wedding night? Ask Beg for a second chance?

I could not do it. I was tired from training and admittedly still somewhat discombobulated from realising she had been watching me. Though I did make it to her door, I merely touched the handle for a moment before retiring to my own chambers.

Now, after yet another disastrous visit… I should have gone to her earlier. I should have trusted my instincts (as Aegon often encourages me to do) instead of allowing my mind to think itself into an inescapable hole.

As I bathed and redressed, and even while attending court and dinner, I could not stop thinking about her. Agonising over what I may have done to make her flee from me?

I never even considered that she may actually have a headache until I was again at her door after dinner. The fear that I was disturbing her, perhaps making her pain worse, was nearly enough to make me turn and flee.

But then, her voice came, soft and light and so enticing. Of course, I somehow managed to answer idiotically when she asked who it was. Though she lessened the sting of embarrassment with a small joke. She is so achingly clever!

I asked her how she was, and her answer made it evident that the headache was a ruse. I am trying not to be too proud that my deduction was correct. She is not used to lying, nor is she good at it. And it is yet another thing I admire about her.

For hours, I planned what I would say to her. It was eloquent and thoughtful – practically poetry.   

The tail of the last ‘y’ extended nearly an inch, and you imagined Aemond just staring at the page, consumed by his thoughts for a moment.

But her room looked different tonight. She finally unpacked.

There is a large tapestry above her hearth depicting her home keep, the field below filled with vibrant pink flowers with bright yellow centres. The same flowers appear nearly everywhere. On framed examples of embroidery, on her curtains, pillows, and even the blanket strewn over the back of her couch.

I must find out what they are, for they are clearly very important to her.

You looked up from the diary, glancing about your room. Indeed, you had not realised how many dog roses decorated your possessions. It was no wonder he guessed they were your favourite.

‘I was quite impressed when you brought me my favourite flower,’ you wrote in your diary. ‘I thought you had somehow read my thoughts. I suppose I made it easy for you.’

She also has a large bookcase in her sitting room, which was specifically requested when her father sent word accepting the betrothal. Since the last time I was in her chambers, she has begun to fill the shelves with books and trinkets. I spotted a small silver bell, a wooden box carved with various birds, and a little glass flower. It was not the same flower that is so prevalent elsewhere in her chambers (this one was a pale purple rather than pink), but still quite pretty.

While pondering that flower, I returned to the couch to compare it to the pink flower on her blanket and saw what she had been reading – “The Last Dragonlords,” my first, and still favourite, history of my house. It is not a particularly rigorous academic work, but I prefer it for the sense of wonder it has for the story of my ancestors.

If, at that point, I remembered any of what I wanted to say to her, the sight of that book, and the knowledge that she was somehow reading my favourite… I lost all words. I fear I fell silent for an uncomfortably long time, for she spoke next.

She wanted to know the reason for my visit. I asked her directly about the ruse of her headache. She seemed nervous, so I told her I do the same and that I often experience lingering pain. I was tempted to remove my patch and show her, but… she was already quite nervous. I did not want to make her more so, or frighten her so thoroughly that she will never warm to me.

What lay beneath his eyepatch that would frighten you so? You had heard many rumours. That his lost eye was nothing more than a pit of darkness. That he had replaced it with a jewel. That an ever-burning fire, fueled by his hatred and rage, burned within.

Despite the stories, you felt a twinge of shame and hurt that, despite his love for you, he did not trust you with seeing him truly bare. He thought you could be frightened away.

Somehow, that shame far overshadowed any curiosity or fear about what lay beneath the brown leather of his eyepatch.

I could already tell it wasn’t going to go how I wanted – she would not meet my eye. So, I offered to leave. I would not impose myself on her when she did not want me to. That is not how I want to start this. Or, start it again.

But she did want me to go! At least, that is what I thought she meant. I am not so sure anymore. She said something about my right to be there as her husband. At the time, I thought it was her shy way of asking me to stay. Now… I think she may have just been repeating something her mother or a Septa taught her.

There was another small patch of angry scribbles.

I’m so stupid! And hardly better than Aegon. No – she may not have been particularly enthusiastic, but I am sure if she genuinely did not want me there, she would have said so. And I would have obeyed. After all, she was quick to ask me to stop some of the other things I tried to do.

She did not like the kissing.

When I first mentioned that I would like to lie with her – which I foolishly reasoned was out of my desire for an heir instead of my desire for her – she simply laid on the bed like on our wedding night. But that is not what I want. I do not want this to simply be a union of duty! At least, not anymore. And I so wanted to kiss her.

So, I beckoned her to me, and she obeyed. My hopes that this would be different were still relatively high. I got closer, touched her face, and asked if I could kiss her.

And she asked, ‘Why?’

I swear that one little word hurt more than any pain I’ve felt in the training yard. Almost more than… well, not quite more than that. But close.

I could not think of any reason other than that she is my wife, and I love her and want more than anything to kiss her. I only told her the former and the latter, for I think if I told her I loved her, she would have been more afraid than if she had seen me without my patch. And the gods must be good, for she said yes.

Then I kissed her. I held her close, and I kissed her.

It was the most wonderful thing! She was soft and warm. And when I laced my hand through her hair, she made the most delightful sound! I could have just kissed her forever.

But then it was over. She shouted and pushed me away. It was… it was just after I tried to use my tongue. I don’t think she liked it.

She asked me why I ‘needed’ to kiss her. She must have disliked it very much.

I had no other explanation than what I had already offered. At least, none that I could tell her without sending her running from me forever. So I stopped and told her I did not need it – the first lie I’ve ever told her.

When she moved back to the bed, I could not help myself. I could not let us be in a marriage where we lie together out of nothing more than duty, fully clothed and anxious to get it over with. It was foolish, and I probably scared her with the request, but I asked her to remove her nightgown. She had already taken off her robe – a massive thing in her house colours that practically drowns her.

You allowed a brief kernel of anger to spark within you, enough for you to pick up your pen and write him another little message in your diary.

‘That robe is dear to me, thank you very much. What is it that makes you hate it so?’

There is nothing more beautiful in the world than her. She puts even the Maiden to shame. I would have been happy to stare at her, to take in that beauty until I had my fill – if I would ever get my fill.

She got on the bed and positioned herself exactly how she was on our wedding night. Not quite how I pictured it, but considering her hesitancy, I did not want to push her.

It took all my control to stop myself from kissing her again when I undressed and joined her. But I did. I also resisted doing anything more than just looking at her breasts.

I sat between her legs and stared at her. While I was more than ready to begin, she was not. At all. Of course, I knew I would have to prepare her, but I hoped she would have had at least some desire for me already.

I started with gentle touches, drawing circles on her thighs. She shivered a bit when I began, but she didn’t ask me to stop. From where I was sitting, I could tell she enjoyed it, even if she didn’t understand it. She did ask me to explain, and my answer was probably lacking – how does one explain why he was so inadequate? – but she gave a small nod when I promised that tonight would be better.

Then I finally touched her where I really wanted to and was delighted to find her… well, not as wet as I’d hoped, but it was an improvement upon our wedding night! I ran my fingers over her entrance, hoping to coax more wetness from her before I truly began. And when I looked at her again to ensure I wasn’t hurting her, she smiled at me!

Encouraged, I kept my fingers at her entrance, not venturing inside yet, but continuing my preparations there while I began to seek her pearl. As the books said, I only had to draw a straight line upward from her entrance to find it.

And, oh, when I found it! Her eyes snapped shut, her back arched off the bed, and the most glorious whine escaped her! It was everything I had imagined and more. Gods, I think I could have peaked just from watching her as I circled her pearl again and again, faster and faster.

But then, she asked me to stop – begged me to.

I thought I must have done something wrong, but she shook her head when I asked if it hurt. And when I asked if it felt good, she would not answer. She merely requested that I get on with what I needed to do and leave, for she was tired. This wound cut even deeper than before with the kissing.

I wanted to prepare her more – I was going to use my mouth on her. To show her how dearly I wish to please her, how much I want to worship and love her, if only she’d let me.

In anticipation of that act, I have been consulting Coryanne Wylde’s various accounts and expert critiques of the act in order to form the perfect strategy.

To begin, I would undress her, as I planned to do on our wedding night, laying gentle, nearly chaste kisses on each new bit of skin I revealed. Once she was bare, I would kiss her. Deeply. To give her a taste of what is to come. Then, I would kiss my way down. Her jaw, her throat, her collarbone, her breasts, and the plane of her stomach.

Once I made it past her navel, I would take her leg in my hand and begin a new trail of kisses upwards. The book says to start at the ankle, but I am too impatient for that – I will begin at the knee instead.

Just when she thought I was finally about to give her what she craved more than anything, I would once again change course to kiss her lips one final time. Then, I would descend.

I would start slowly, experimenting with different tactics to determine what drives her deliciously mad. Once I knew, I would feast. I would devour her like her pleasure was the air I needed to breathe. Like her cries of pleasure were beautiful music, and I would die if it ever stopped.

I would bring her to peak once with my mouth on her entrance. Again on her pearl. Then again and again in whichever way made her scream the loudest.

Only when she was so drunk with pleasure that she could no longer rise to meet my mouth or grasp at my hair would I relent. I would make my way back up to her mouth and soothe her with gentle kisses until she had regained herself and was begging for me to finally fuck her.

But I didn’t get to do any of that.

She asked me to stop, so I did. I pumped myself a little to ensure the disappointment hadn’t rendered me incapable of performing my duty and entered her.

The preparation did help. Entering her was easier, and she did not wince as much as the first time. And she felt even more heavenly somehow. The feeling was so intense that I had to take a moment to remind myself that she only wanted me to finish quickly so she would not have to endure me any longer.

So, I fucked her. I did not make love to her, as is my true desire. I just fucked her, like she was just any woman and not the love of my life.

And then, a miracle! I thrust into her, something about the angle allowing me in quite deep, and she reacted. She gasped, breathless, and her hips snapped up to meet mine. I froze in surprise and elation. I found her ‘sweet spot!’

But when I smiled at her, she turned away and refused to look at me again.

I just kept going. I did not try to hit that spot again, so as to not upset her further. I finished as quickly as I could and left the bed.

It was stupid of me, but I turned back to her after dressing. Everything had gone so horribly, but I still love her. I still need her. So I could not just leave her like that.

I asked if I could kiss her again. She let me. I was quick, as promised.

Then I came back here, once again alone and no closer to earning her love than I was before.

I must meet with my advisors again tomorrow. Perhaps they can help me understand why I keep fucking this up so badly when all I want is for her to let me love her the way I want to and for her to love me in return.

Your heart ached so severely that you thought there might be bruises when you looked down at your chest. But there was just skin – skin that Aemond would have happily kissed, had you let him.

As horrible and confusing as that night had been for you, it had been so tenfold for Aemond. He had wanted a grand, romantic evening, and you had greeted him with only coldness and suspicion.

He called you ‘the love of his life.’ You ran your finger over those words so many times that they became smudged, then went to write something in your diary but halted with your pen hovering over the paper.

What could you write to match what he’d said about you? Even if you could, would it really be true? How many times could you say, ‘I’m sorry?’

Well, at least one more time. ‘I’m so sorry, Aemond,’ you wrote, ‘I didn’t know, and I was still scared. Not of you, but of what I thought my life was to be. If you had only told me… I do not blame you, I swear. I just wish the both of us had been more honest with each other.’

You were far too exhausted to continue. It was not yet midafternoon, and you had already been from the near-heights of carnal pleasure to the depths of your despair that the unfortunate state of your marriage was, in actuality, mostly your fault.

So, after setting Aemond’s diary aside, you picked up your embroidery basket and began to work while your mind wandered.

It was only when your maids arrived to bring you dinner that you realised that, somehow, the dog roses you intended to make had become a sprawling wisteria vine.

-

You dreamed of the castle garden in late spring when all the flowers were in bloom. As you walked down the garden path, you saw every colour imaginable amongst the vibrant greens. But there was only one flower you really wanted to see – and the man you knew would be waiting for you beneath them.

Just as the first purple tendrils came into view, the dream faded, and you woke to see the first hints of dawn still beneath the horizon.

Drawing your blankets over your head, you squeezed your eyes shut and stubbornly tried to fall back asleep and return to your dream – to no avail. You were well and truly awake. And it would be some time before your maids came to dress you for the day.

So, dragging the blanket from your bed with you, you trudged back into your solar and settled into the couch before picking up Aemond’s diary again.

The 27th day in the 5th moon of the year

I met with Lord Wylde, Grand Maester Orwyle, and Aegon this morning. They had advice, but it was not as… straightforward as I had hoped. There is no simple trick to get her to love me. Nothing I can study from a book and then implement with assured success.

I have to woo her. I have to be witty and pleasant and charming and… romantic.

I do not think this is going to work.

Especially not after my first attempt was so disastrous.

Lord Wylde asked that I tell him about her, so I did. When he learned she enjoys reading as much as I do, he suggested I try to find common ground there. So, I went to try and find her in the library.

She was exactly where she was the last time I saw her there, still reading “The Last Dragonlords.” I watched her for a moment, savouring the look of contentment on her face as she read, as well as a few quick reactions to the book. How I love it when her nose scrunches in displeasure!

‘That is quite the odd thing to fixate on,’ you wrote in your diary. It seemed a decent night’s sleep had helped recover some of your humour. ‘What is it, in particular, that you like about my scrunched nose?’

She did smile at me when I approached, but I think she thought I was a Maester, for her smile faltered when I greeted her. And she was so shy. Usually, when I struggle to find the right words, she breaks the silence. Today, she did not.

At least it gave me time to remember why I came to the library. She was still reading “The Last Dragonlords,” so I told her it was my favourite and asked if I could join her. I think she was somewhat embarrassed about reading a children’s book, but I assured her it was no matter and that I would nonetheless enjoy reading it with her, and she allowed me to sit with her.

My plan was to sit with her, discuss the histories, and perhaps, in time, hold her hand as a first step toward genuine affection. But the plan quickly went awry.

It all happened so fast that I don’t even remember exactly what I said. But somehow, I insinuated that she was not intelligent enough to understand the book. The book meant for children – young children.

She was very upset with me. Rightfully so! Still upset enough that she stormed out of the library after making several cutting remarks that proved that she is, in fact, quite intelligent.

After several minutes and a brief reprimand from one of the Maesters, I finally gathered myself enough to realise that she had left the book there. As well as several pages of notes.

Of course, the noble thing would have been to not look and ask a servant to return them to her. But in that moment, I was desperate, not noble. So, I looked.

Her notes were beautifully organised and remarkably thorough – the work of a true scholar! She even crafted a beautiful family tree all the way through Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters. Had I not fumbled our initial interaction so entirely, we would have had a wonderful discussion.

You had feared him finding the notes, but you had never considered that he would be impressed rather than arrogantly amused. It made sense now that you knew his true nature. Perhaps, once whatever was between you was resolved, you could have that discussion.

In all honesty, there were a few questions you had that you hoped he would be able to answer. Not least of which being why in more than a thousand years, Targaryens had only come up with a dozen names that they repeated over and over again. You wrote as much in your diary.

It was useless for me to sulk in the library, agonising over what I should have said, so I gathered the book and her notes and left the library.

An apology was more than necessary, so I went to Aegon’s rooms. After all, there is perhaps no one with more experience apologising to women. Even if his apologies are self-serving.

When I arrived, I found Mother had already found Aegon first, and was well into another tirade about his behaviour. Normally, I would be happy to watch Mother yelling at him, but I did not feel I had time to. And Aegon was glad that I granted him a reprieve.

Admittedly, I had not wanted to admit to Mother that my wife and I were… not as close as I wanted. But, as she always is, she was eminently understanding, and far more helpful than Aegon was. His only suggestion was to bring her something nice – jewels, silks, or the like.

On the other hand, Mother gave me sage advice on what to say when I go to her. As my words have been my primary point of failure, I was very grateful for this. She did also say that a gift would not be amiss. An ‘offering of peace,’ she called it. But she advised something personal, not luxurious. If the gift is too valuable, she says, it will seem as if I am trying to buy her forgiveness rather than earn it.

I knew immediately what I should get her. I thanked Mother (and Aegon) and left at once for the gardens.

I found them – the flowers she loves so dearly. Dog roses, they are called. Unfortunately, they do not grow well in our climate, but the Maester’s managed to coax a few to bloom with their various potions and other horticultural creations.

They are almost as beautiful as her.

The Maester I spoke to said that it would be best if I had them cut just before I brought them to her, to preserve their beauty. So that is what I will do.

I will not practice tonight. At least… not that kind of practice. Instead, I will rehearse my apology. I cannot fail tomorrow.

You winced slightly, knowing that the next day would not go as Aemond planned and feeling as though it was your fault. But there was no changing that now. And you had already apologised – often and profusely.

So, you wrote only a simple note: ‘I don’t recall seeing dog roses on our tour of the gardens. Did you pluck them all?’

Looking back at his diary, you took a deep, steadying breath. Only two ribbons left.

The 28th day in the 5th moon of the year

I am the stupidest, most idiotic man in all the seven fucking kingdoms.

All I was trying to do was apologise to her for my unkind – though unintentionally so! – words in the library, but somehow it ended with her crying and me fleeing from her chambers yet again.

You cringed at the memory, almost not wanting to read on.

Aegon gladly offered his explanation, even after I told him I did not want it. He insists that I have so thoroughly repulsed her that she cannot help but burst into tears at the sight of me.

Mother thinks that she is just missing her family and her home, as she said. That she is overwhelmed by being alone in a strange place, and the familiar sight of the flowers – dog roses, as I have learned – brought those feelings to bursting.

Perhaps Mother is right. But her parents left a fortnight ago, and she has shown no other signs of homesickness. And she is not alone! She has the other ladies of the court to talk to, and Helaena and Mother adore her. And me.

If she came to me, I would do anything to cheer her. Not that she would seek comfort from me, no matter how dearly I wish she would. She certainly won’t after today.

After the disaster in the library yesterday and the scolding I received from Grand Maester Orwyle after my training this morning, I knew beyond a doubt that I needed to apologise. I… the shame I feel for having played any part in the state Orwyle described her in is unbearable.

So, I went to the gardens and had a Maester cut the flowers for me and arrange them in a simple bouquet.

She was on her couch when I arrived in her rooms – still in her nightgown and that robe. And again, she did not look at me. She had eyes only for the flowers. I thought then that they had been the right choice.

I apologised, but she did not react. She still just stared at the bouquet. So, I went ahead with the rest of my apology.

Then she touched my hand. It startled me, and I pulled away from her on instinct, dropping the bouquet in her lap. She looked at them like I had dropped a helpless kitten rather than flowers!

And she started crying. Softly, the tears welling in her eyes for a long moment before spilling over. I do not understand what I did to upset her. I said only what I had planned last night. It was so hard to resist brushing the tears away, but she seemed nearly volatile, and I did not want to make things worse.

‘I miss home,’ she said, finally.

It did sting that she does not consider King’s Landing and her life with me her home – it still does. But she is hundreds of miles away from the family of her birth, from the people who have undoubtedly treated her better than I have. I cannot blame her.

I apologised again for upsetting her and left.

At dinner, I had planned to ask Mother and Grandsire if we could find a way to send her home, at least for a little while. So she could be happy. Perhaps I could even go with her. I might have an easier time talking to her without the pressures of my family and the capital upon me.

You smiled at the thought of Aemond at your home keep. Of him in all his black leather among the fields of dog roses. Talking with your father in the library. Him training with your brothers – you were confident he could defeat any one of them alone, but knowing your brothers, they would absolutely gang up on him.

‘One day,’ you wrote, ‘I would love to show you my home.’

I was waiting for the opportunity to ask when she arrived! After this afternoon, I did not think she would come to dinner, but she did! I could have wept for my relief.

And when I offered my hand to her, she took it. Not only that, but she squeezed it – hard. I think believe it was her way of accepting my apology.

She did not speak during dinner, nor did anyone ask her too many questions. Aegon was his typically infuriating self, silently encouraging me to do something with her. What he expects me to do when in front of the entire family, I do not know.

After the meal, I offered to escort her back to her chambers, which she accepted. And once we were alone, she thanked me for the flowers!

It was going unusually well. That is, until I decided to open my mouth. I only meant to compliment her, as she did look quite beautiful, but… I just kept talking. And then I had suddenly insulted her gown from yesterday and her robe.

She closed herself off from me then, shoving away my arm. Why could I not just shut up? I know my words are the source of so many of our misunderstandings, yet I keep talking! At this point, I am strongly considering a vow of silence.

‘Please don’t take a vow of silence!’ you wrote, scrambling for your diary as if it mattered how quickly you got the words down. ‘Your voice is far too lovely for me to never hear it again.’

Tomorrow, I am going to try a suggestion from Lord Wylde. Show her that I am not a failure in everything I do. I pray it works.

You turned the page, expecting to find the entry for the next day, but there was none. There had been a page between the entries for the 28th and the 30th, but it had been sloppily torn out. All that remained was the beginnings of the date in the upper corner.

It was entirely against what you knew of Aemond. The man who had dutifully started his journal on the first day of the year and began each entry on a new page would not do something like this.

What had upset him so? Had you said something to him?

No, of course not. The only time you had seen him that day was in the training yard, and you hadn’t spoken to each other, not after… not after he stormed off. Had he actually been hurt in his fight with the Kingsguard? Or was he just embarrassed that you had witnessed him fall?

Gods, how you wished you had gone to him that night. But perhaps you could make up for it now.

‘After you were absent for dinner,’ you wrote to him in your diary, ‘I almost came to your rooms. I was worried for you. Though I confess, that was the only reason I found myself walking toward you… I missed you, at dinner. I missed you helping me into my chair. I missed your smile. I missed the way you’d hold the plates for me. Most of all, I missed your voice, and your presence next to me.’

You sniffled slightly, staring at a lamp on your wall to dry the tears that were forming before finishing the entry, ‘I’ve missed you these past days, as well. But I’m almost done. I’ll see you soon.’

The 30th day in the 5th moon of the year

I have made my gravest sin yet. And my most foolish.

We had the perfect morning together in the gardens. Silent, mostly, but perfect. She smiled at me! She allowed me to lead her through the gardens on my arm. It was… precisely what I had hoped for.

Until I once again acted like an absolute fucking fool.

Before I had to leave for court, I asked if I could come to her rooms that night. And for one perfect moment, I really believed she was going to say yes.

But then she mentioned her moon’s blood, and I just… panicked. I am not entirely an idiot (though I become less sure of that declaration with each passing moment), I know what that means.

It means that I’ve failed her. In even more ways than I knew.

I have made her miserable. I have made her cry. I have failed in every duty of a good husband, including the most basic of tasks – I have not given her a child.

I cannot go on like this – trapped in an endless cycle of misery where I can do nothing but hurt the both of us. I must do something to free us from this.

It doesn’t matter if she doesn’t love or even like me. I just want her to be happy. If that means that I never get to see her or love her again, I will make myself accept that.

First, she needs to know why I’ve acted this way. To know my true feelings so she can decide what she wants me to do. Gods, if she wanted me to go to Essos and never return, I would.

A blot of ink covered half the page, as though he had simply set his pen down while he thought.

I know what to do. I just pray she understands.

“I understand,” you said aloud, as though Aemond were before you. But, of course, he wasn’t. He was halfway across the castle, a distance that suddenly felt like the Narrow Sea itself. Throwing down your blanket, you shouted for your maids to dress you at once, your morning meal be damned. The moment finished tying off the last lace of your gown, you ran.

You had only been shown where Aemond’s chambers were once – on your first tour of the Holdfast. Then, you did not know whether to be disappointed or thankful that they were far from yours. Now, as your nervousness flooded through every part of your body, you hated the distance more than anything.

Each step was an effort, as with every one, your legs felt heavier and heavier, as if they were made of iron. Your blood felt as though it was rushing dangerously fast, carrying with it a marked chill. Despite feeling frozen within, sweat still somehow beaded at your brow. Yet you could not wipe it away, for your hands were all but stitched to the two diaries you carried.

Was this a terrible idea? Would Aemond laugh at you for all your silly little notes? Would he be angry with you for taking days to fulfil his request? You came to a halt in the middle of the corridor, tears prickling in your eyes as you considered so many horrible possibilities.

No, you thought, the word echoed by the impact of your foot on stone as you took a heavy, sure step forward.

The Aemond you thought you knew would do those things. But that Aemond wasn’t real – and never was. He had only ever lived in your terrified imagination.

The real Aemond was the one who had been so awestruck upon first seeing you that he could not say anything other than your name. Who had fallen for you so quickly and with such intensity that he forgot how to act like a proper person and instead stumbled over his words and actions like a drunk man through a crowded alley. Who had been so desperate for you to return his affections that he swallowed his pride to seek help. And who had finally given you his diary when he could think of no other way to show you how he really felt and who he truly was.

It was the thought of finally meeting that Aemond that made you put one foot in front of the other, faster and faster, until you were sprinting down the halls, only stopping when you came to the door you had seen only once before – his door.

You did not understand how you had found it again after only seeing it only once before. Nor did you remember knocking on the smooth, dark wood.

But then you heard footsteps approaching.

Hastily, you transferred the diaries to one hand and wiped the sweat from your brow with the sleeve of the other. You wanted to straighten your hair, for it had surely come loose from its braid after running so fast. But there was no time for that.

There was the dull, metallic sound of the door being unlatched, and then there he was.

Aemond stood before you, breathing heavily himself as though he, too, had been running. His silver hair was mussed, and there were smudges of purple beneath his widened eyes – his eyes.

He was not wearing his eyepatch.

Your mouth fell open at the sight. At least one of the rumours had been true. Beneath the raised, rough skin of his scar, in place of his lost eye, was a brilliant blue sapphire. It suited him perfectly and was perhaps the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

He looked at you for a moment, the corners of his mouth lifting in a hesitant smile before realising what had caught your attention so thoroughly.

“Oh gods,” he whispered, covering the sapphire with his hands and turning away. He took a few steps into the room before speaking again. “I did not mean for you to see this. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. Please…”

You said nothing. Silently, you moved into the room and shut the door. Aemond stared at you, his good eye watering as you approached him.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again. “You should not have had to – ” He startled when you brought your free hand up to his wrist and started trying to tug his hand away from his face. “What are you…?”

When your only response was to continue tugging, he relented, allowing you to lower his hand. He swallowed thickly, fixing his good eye on the wall behind you instead of at you. Seeing his shyness, and now knowing it for what it was, almost made you smile.

But your own shyness took hold of you as you guided his hand down and wrapped it around the spines of the twin journals you held. When you looked back up at Aemond, he was staring at them and the green ribbon that now marked a page within your diary.

“I don’t understand,” he breathed, tightening his hold on the books.

With a slight smirk, you gazed up at him and dropped your hand from the diaries. “It’s your turn.”

#studious #aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond fanart #aemond fluff #aemond imagine #aemond one eye #aemond smut #aemond the kinslayer #aemond x reader #aemond x you #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #hotd #ewan mitchell #repost bc i fucked up the first time

[simpleeindulge]

Yummy🔞

Info: fem/readerxLuffy, implied relationship, MDI, soft food kink, detailed, licking, kissing, cunnilingus, some consensual intercourse🔞

Context: Luffy finds out he has a kink. ‼️Warning: Detailed‼️

……

Luffy didn't know what it was about licking food off your skin that made it taste so good; it just did.

He discovered his new fascination nearly a week ago while spending some time with you. It was an innocent situation; you were curled up in the library with a steaming cup of hot chocolate. Sanji had topped your drink with a generous swirl of whipped cream, and some had gotten on your chin.

What Luffy did was something you had done to him countless times. He licked the cream from your chin.

"Ah! Luffy!" You gasped and shivered as you stared in shock at him.

Luffy felt an internal quake as he drew his tongue back into his mouth as he watched you jump while hearing you gasping. The cream tasted better and sweeter, and your reaction made it all the tastier.

He wondered if that's why you would kiss or lick his face when had cream or chocolate on his face. It was a mean trick of you not to share this secret delight with him!

Since that day, Luffy couldn't get the idea out of his mind. Whenever his mind wandered, he thought about other foods that would taste good on your skin. Syrup, chocolate, ketchup, caramel, ice cream...

"What else, what else," He mumbled to him as he fished off the side of the Sunny. "Cheese? Pasta? Meat?"

"Thinking of what you want Sanji to cook?" Robin asked from her chair. She was relaxing in her favorite reading spot and couldn't help overhearing Luffy talking to himself.

Luffy glanced at her and said honestly, "I'm trying to think of foods that would taste good with Y/N's skin."

Robin's expression did not change, and she hummed as she processed what Luffy said.

"You mean, what food would taste good eating off Y/N's body?" She clarified.

"Yeah," Luffy replied as he shrugged. "I've only tried whipped cream so far."

Robin giggled since she knew what Luffy had done to you days ago when you had vented to her.

Sex was something that occurred rarely between you and Luffy. Luffy did enjoy the feeling, but there were other things he enjoyed doing more with you.

So long as Luffy met your minimal needs each month it didn't matter because you had other ways of being intimate with him. But when Luffy licked you, you felt something you didn't expect and the look in his eyes didn't help.

“Well, from what I understand, most people use fruits and cream or chocolate,” Robin said mischievously.

“Not meat?” Luffy said with a pout.

Robin smiled at her captain, and thinking it would help two people she cared about get closer she used her powers to get a magnize from Sanji’s “secret stash.”

“Here, have a look and see if Y/n will be willing to play along,” Robin suggested with a wink.

…

“No! Absolutely not!”

“But Y/N…”

“There is no way I am putting that between my legs!” You shouted as you pointed at the chuck of meat Luffy held up by the bone.”

“Aww, but why?” Luffy pouted.

“Because one, it's weird; two, it’s not sanitary; and three, knowing you, it would be dangerous!” You explained as you crossed your arms.

Luffy sighed and took a bite of his meat and ate it with a sulky look.

“I just wanted to see what else would taste good with you.”

You shivered as you thought about how his tongue had licked the cream clean of your chin. It was a type of intimacy you had yet to experience with Luffy. And lord knows he is food motivated.

It might be fun to try.

You sighed and picked up the can of whipped cream Robin had given you. Somehow, she knew you would need it.

“Luffy, if this is something you want to try, let’s start with something simple.”

You smile and playfully shake the can at him.

Luffy had just taken a bite of his meat and he stared at you wide-eyed. He then swallowed down hard and gave you a huge grin. It was the same grin he always used when he is about to do something he found fun.

“Alright!” He excitedly cried and reached to take the can from you.

You moved it out of the way, saying, “Hold on! There is one rule you have to promise to follow.”

“Huh?” Luffy said as his grin dropped.

“No teeth. If you bite me, I will end you.” You said darkly.

Luffy frowned and said, “It's whipped cream, who bites whipped cream?”

“You would!” I stated loudly. Luffy put up his hands and laughed.

“Shishishi, okay, I promise not to bite you.”

You huffed and then moved to the bed. Your eyes then held his gaze as you removed your top. Luffy watched as you removed your bra and then your panties. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. His eyes became wide pools of black that made you shiver.

He saw you, and though he didn't physically react by blushing, sweating, breathing harder, or licking his lips, you knew he saw you. It was the sudden intensity that told you.

You pulled up your hair and then shook the can as you continued to stare into his eyes. The cool cream made you wince and gasp as you covered the tops of your breasts. You were about to invite Luffy to taste the cream but he was already on top of you.

He moved fast, pushing you on your back as your legs hung over the edge of the bed. Luffy eyed the cream and without being told started licking it off your skin.

“L-Lufffy!”

He didn't slow his movements as his tongue dragged over your skin. When his lips came near a nipple, Luffy sucked it into his mouth, causing your back to arch. A strained whine left your throat, and you saw stars behind your eyes.

He licked and sucked hard, then let the bud pop out his mouth to lick at the cream that hid under and between your breasts.

“Is there more?” Luffy asked as stared down at your glossy skin.

You were panting hard and trying to think. Luffy then spotted the can on the bed and snatched it up.

“Luffy wait!”

Luffy sprayed the cream over your belly. He then ran his tongue over the vulnerable skin and dipped around your belly button. The sensation made your toes curl and your cunt wet. It was hard to breathe and yet it felt amazing as the light tickling sensation sent waves of tantalizing pleasure down between your legs.

Your palms pressed down onto the bed as you lay back and enjoy the treatment you are getting. Luffy hooked an arm under one of your legs and shifted the two of you. You licked your lips as waited for what was about to come next.

Luffy used the rest of the can between your legs. He was about to dig in when you warned him in a honeyed voice, “Luffy, no biting.”

He paused and looked at you with that goofy grin you love so much.

“I know, I know!” Luffy replied with a cheerful laugh.

He then lapped at the white cream like a cat and moaned as your juices added a tang to the sweet taste. His tongue flicked at your clit and then spread over from the bottom of your pussy to the top.

The string of nerves surrounding your pussy pulled tighter and tighter. Your voice became hard to control as Luffy’s tongue swirled and dripped into your core. His mouth would then suck at the sensitive folds and his lips would tease the top of your mount as he search for more cream.

The strained cries you made were nothing but background noise as Luffy feasted on you. And yet, the strings coiled tighter and tighter, ready to launch you into oblivion.

“Ah! Luffy!”

There was no more cream for him to lick but Luffy kept going as he imagined other foods he could eat from here. Bananas, peaches, chocolate, cake, gummy bears, bacon, meat…

“Luffy…Luffy!”

Meat with gravy, syrup, pancakes with syrup? He thought hard as his mouth sucked on you as he became intoxicated by your smell. Something tangy sprayed onto his top lip and he moaned as him licked it into his mouth.

Tangerines, strawberries, melon…

“Luffy! Please…Stop!”

Luffy halted and breathed hard. His eyes glanced at you as your juices still covered his mouth. You were panting just as hard as you tried to relax from the intense orgasm you had just experienced.

He licked his lips clean as he noticed how your body trembled with aftershocks and moved over you without touching.

“Oops, did I overdo it?” Luffy asked, looking concerned and curious.

You smiled at him and lightly laughed then moaned at the tight spasm in your lower belly.

“Only a little, but it felt good.”

“Oh? Will that’s good I guess.” Luffy replied as you stroked his face.

“Hey, Y/n?”

“Hmm?”

Luffy licked his lips and let his erection rub against your belly. You gasped and closed your eyes then looked at him.

“Can I? It won't go away and it hurts.”

You breathed and nodded your head. You didn't even bother to tell Luffy to be gentle as he entered you. After what he had just did, he deserved a nice reward.

“Hey…Y/n…” Luffy groaned as he moved at a decent pace into you. “Can we try peaches next time? The kind with syrup juice?”

You let out a delirious giggle as you held onto what little sanity you had left.

“Sure…let’s try it next time…”

Luffy grinned as stored the promise away. He will think about it later, now, he was with you and it was delicious.

He bent and kissed you, pushing his tongue inside to taste your mouth. Yes. Simply, delicious.

#one piece smut #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #luffy x you #monkey d. luffy #one piece luffy #straw hat luffy #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #op fanfic #op luffy #x reader

[sapphire-writes]

The Hidden Daughter

pairing: Aemond x Baratheon!Reader request: hi love your work :) would love to request an aemond x baratheon reader-in which there is a 5th daughter that her father keeps hidden as she is his favorite she is shy at first but is smary and has fire. you can imagine aemonds surprise when he sees her patting and talking to vhagar. possessive aemond and smut please maybe on top of vhagar :) by @ivvypg note: LOVE some possessive Aemond, love this request! hope you enjoy 💚 warnings: possessiveness, SMUT, choking, smut is below the cut be warned it's dirty and on DRAGONBACK! word count: 1.6k masterlist

Aemond was presented with a feast when he arrived at Storm’s End. A feast, a tourney, and a melee for his honor. Along with being presented with Lord Borros’ four daughters; any of whom he would be allowed to claim for marriage. Little did he know, a fifth daughter lived within the walls of Storm’s End, not present during his arrival. 

You were Lord Borros' favorite. Your fire and free spirit reminded him so much of himself, he couldn’t bear the thought of being parted from you. You were his last child, his final daughter and he was not ready to give you up. Even to a prince. 

You were out picking flowers when the one-eyed prince arrived, something you did often to avoid the dreary halls of the castle. Your father allowed you to go as the prince arrived, hoping Aemond would choose which daughter he wished to wed immediately upon his arrival. Though it was raining, you wore a shawl that shielded you from the freezing drops. You found that a rainstorm was the best time to explore the edges of the woods, in search of new flora. 

While tracing the edge of the forest she was met with a monstrous roar. Snapping your head up, you dropped your basket as you came face to face with the oldest, largest dragon in the world. Your eyes widened as you looked upon Vhagar, lips parting in shock. Vhagar roared again, the sound shaking the ground beneath your feet. The very sky seemed to listen to Vhagar as the clouds let their rain stop. 

“You’re a wonderful beast, aren’t you?” you tell Vhagar, who roars again, shooting a stream of fire into the air above her. You laugh in surprise. 

“I have never seen a dragon before,” you tell her, and she looks at you as if understanding.

“I am not speaking your mother tongue, am I?” you say, pouting, “I am probably confusing you greatly, my apologies lady!” 

Vhagar lets out a high-pitched chirp, much like a large bird. You laugh again. 

“Do you like me?” you ask, taking a step closer. Vhagar roars again, a warning. You hold your hands open in surrender. 

“I won’t come closer if you wish,” you tell her, “but I may have something for you.”

You reach for your basket, picking underneath the flowers you collected. You had packed yourself lunch, a fresh meat pie, wrapped in cloth. You took it out, unwrapping it, the pastry still steaming. Vhagar lifted her nose, sniffing the air. Your face broke out in a smile. 

“Smells good?” you ask, and Vhagar chirps again. You walk a few feet closer placing the pie in front of her. You back up quickly as she lashes out, snatching the pie and a chunk of the earth into her gullet. 

“That could have been me!” you scold, and Vhagar makes a sound like a purring cat. 

“What are you doing?”

You jump back, the smile leaving your face at the arrival of the one-eyed prince, causing the hood of your cloak to fall back. Aemond assesses you before walking over to Vhagar patting her jaw as she continues to purr. 

“Your grace,” you choke, before curtseying. 

“Who are you?”

“Lady Y/N Baratheon, your grace.”

“Lord Borros assured me he had four daughters,” he told you, “he lied?”

“Yes, my prince,” you admit. You do not wish to betray your father, but know there is no other way out of the situation. You cannot lie to the prince.

“Why?”

“He wishes to keep me at Storm’s End.”

Aemond looks you up and down and looks at how Vhagar responds to you. He takes in your appearance, skirts muddied from trailing through the wildflower beds of the forest. You cross your arms as he examines you thoroughly with his one-seeing eye.

“That simply will not do,” he says, a smirk appearing on his face.

“What shall not do?” you ask, brows coming together. 

“Who is a lord to deny a prince?” he continues, walking over to you. You feel your breath coming in your pants. 

“Who would you wish to belong to, my lady?” he asks, placing a hand on your cheek, “your father or a prince who rides the largest, strongest dragon in the world?”

He is dangerously handsome, so much it steals the breath from your lungs. 

“I do not know, my prince. I prefer to belong to myself”

This causes Aemond to chuckle. 

“I shall make the decision easy for you. I choose you. Your father said I could have any of his daughters. He hid you from me, but not well enough.”

Aemond places a thumb on your lower lip, tugging it gently. Your eyes are wide as you gaze upon him. The look in his eyes is that of a man starved. 

“Do you wish to ride her?” he asks. Your eyes widen.

“Would you allow it?”

Aemond nods, ushering you toward the ropes that lead to Vhagar’s back. Vhagar’s large green eyes watch you as you begin your ascent. You are sure you can see the entirety of the Stormlands as you walk across her back. 

As Aemond climbs on behind you, he leads you to the saddle in the middle of her back. It looks almost comical, and you wonder how he is able to steer such a large dragon. He throws a leg over the saddle, sitting down. 

“You sit in front, my lady,” he tells you, patting the space in front of him, “to see the view.”

You do as you’re told, and Aemond speaks something in High Valyrian that makes Vhagar lift her large head, spread her wings and take to the skies. The wind blows through your hair and you cannot help the excited laugh that escapes your lips. 

What wondrous fun it must be to be a Targaryen. How freeing it must be to take to the skies whenever you want. Aemond’s hands tighten around your waist, causing heat to flood through your body. 

“This is amazing!” Aemond swallows your happy giggles with a kiss, as he turns your face towards him. His tongue opens your mouth to him and you moan, feeling a tingling sensation between your legs. 

He grabs your thighs, turning you around in the saddle to face him. You wrap your legs around his waist, pressing your clothed core into the hard bulge of his pants, gasping at the contact. He brings his hand between you, under your skirts, pulling at your small clothes. He lets a finger slide through your slick folds, teasing your sensitive clit. You jerk your hips at the stimulation. 

“Do you wish to give yourself to me?” he asks, kissing your lips once more, “let me make you my princess.”

You swallow, every nerve in your body singing with his words. Princess. Aemond Targaryen’s lady, his princess. 

“Yes,” you tell him, wetting your lips. He smiles triumphantly. 

He undoes his breeches, a well-endowed cock coming free. He tears away the remainder of your small clothes, lifting your hips over his. Your jaw slacks as you sink your cunt onto his hardened cock, sheathing him completely within your heat. He lets you set the pace at first, one hand still holding the reins of Vhagar. Your cunt feels magical, hot, and pulsating around him with every stroke. 

You bounce slightly on his cock, the soft moans pouring from your mouth music to Aemond’s ears. The exposed tops of your breasts jiggle with every bounce and Aemond buries his face between them, placing wet kisses on the soft flesh. 

He soon grows impatient with your pace, bringing his hands to your waist lifting you up, and slamming you down on his cock. The new ferocity makes you cry out, causing Aemond to smile wickedly. 

“Scream as loud as you need, my lady,” he says, voice rough, “let them hear you from the skies.”

You do as you’re told, obscene moans leaving your mouth as he continues to guide you on his cock. You dig your hands into his shoulders, using the leverage to aid him, rotating your hips at a desperate pace as your pleasure builds. Aemond brings one of his hands-free, snaking it up the front of your gown until it comfortably wraps around your throat. 

“Tell me you’re mine,” he growls and you whimper, “say it.”

“I am yours,” you moan, throwing your head back, and wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“No one else's.”

“No one, only yours,” you promise him, continuing to bounce on his length, wet noises filling the open air. 

“Your father could never keep you from me,” he says, squeezing his hand just enough, you feel deliciously light-headed, “you were made for me and me alone.”

“Yes, just for you,” you cry. Aemond drops his hand between you both, rubbing circles on the bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. 

“Cum for me,” he demands, “give your pleasure to me.” 

You do as he commands, and with a final scream, you fall apart around him. Your limbs turn to jelly as you feel him release within you, sheathed so deeply within you, you feel him pressed against the entrance of your womb. 

“He shan’t keep you from me,” Aemond says breathlessly, grabbing your face and pressing a searing kiss to your lips. 

“I shall fuck you full of my children,” he promises, “silver babes created in the skies.”

You nod furiously, drunk with pleasure, wanting only to please him.

“You would like that wouldn’t you?” he croons, noticing your cock dumb expression. You feel his cock within you twitch, becoming hard once more. 

“Yes,” you whimper, clinging to him as though he is the only thing keeping you secure to Vhagar’s back. He bites his lip, a growl emitting from deep within his chest.

He lifts his hips, thrusting up into you once more.

“Then let us continue, my lady.”

#aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond smut #hotd smut

[calebwittebane]

back in early 2012 when i mastered smithing in skyrim for the very first time and went to craft me some awesome endgame heavy armor, excited about it being made from dragon bone, my reaction was, very understandably, "are you fucking kidding me man. i am not putting this on". it is 2024 and just reminding myself that this is what they made the second best armor in the game look like makes my head hurt. armor rating second to daedric but more lightweight, requiring 100 in smithing to craft, and this is what it looks like. the helmet doesn't even match the rest of the armor. it looks like the clam meat texture. it looks like actual literal garbage. it looks brittle, and like it smells bad, and i fail to see how you need to be a Master Blacksmith to make it, seeing how the actual craftsmanship on display just kind of looks like you were haphazardly hot gluing chunks to yourself. like, i thought it wouldve made sense for more advanced armors to be more elaborate, like how ebony armor is quite complex and ornate. i thought that was the process. this is dogshit. who designed this? who made the models? did the same person make the glass and elven armors in oblivion? good lord they had to invent a new bone in order to accentuate the female model's boob plate situation

[minteyeddevil]

Reactions to Calling Them Husband

(Silly little headcanon my sister and I were talking about, and also inspired by those dorky videos on tiktok lol.)

Lucifer:

You were at an event at the Demon Lord’s castle, surrounded by demons who were very interested in the human that seemed to tame the seven demon lords. Many of them surrounded you, asking you questions and just all around obsessing over you to the point where you were feeling overwhelmed.

As if sensing your unease, Lucifer was at your side instantly, his hand at the small of your back. “Need rescuing?” he teased, using his wings to barricade you away from some of the other demons.

You smiled up at him and as you were stepping away, you addressed a demon still trying to talk to you: “Sorry, I need to step away with my husband. Bye now.”

This made him almost stop in his tracks; almost. But he did stare down at you with the smallest sign of awe on his face that you would be brave enough to address him as ‘husband’ to another demon.

Once alone and out of ear shot of the others, he leans down and whispers to you: “Bold of you to address me as such in front of of the lesser demons. Can you imagine the rumors that are going to spread now?”

He silently enjoys the panicked look that spreads on your face for a moment before smirking and adding, “Not that I mind, of course. It will only cement that the wonderful human is all mine.”

Expect him to have a hand on you the rest of the evening and will smirk and beam the entire time if you address him as your husband again.

Mammon:

The two of you were at Hell’s Kitchen, having a small dinner together in celebration of passing your exams; Mammon by the skin of his teeth, but he still passed! When the waiter came up to take your orders, you looked at Mammon out of your peripherals, deciding now was the best time as ever to try out the new ‘prank’ you saw going around on Devilgram.

“Yes, I’ll have the sauteed wild hair liver, and my husband will have the shadow goose meat and egg lasagna. Thank you!”

He practically spit out his drink and just stared at you for a moment. Your smirk at him makes him fluster but he clears his throat and does his best to smirk right back at you.

“O-Of course you’d want the Great Mammon to be your husband! I’m the best demon out there and you’d better count your blessings that I would want a dumb human like you as my partner!”

You cross your arms and raise an eyebrow at him, and he clears his throat again, taking one of your hands in his. “Okay, okay! You aren’t a dumb human at all. In fact...you’re the best thing that has ever happened ta me. Would...would ya really want me as your husband, MC?”

You throw your arms around his shoulders and kiss his cheek over and over at how sweet he is, and assure him that of course you would love to marry this dorky demon.

Leviathan:

The two of you were gaming away in his room, when he asked if you could order something for the two of you to eat. You knew the usual place he loved to get food from and decided to call them up; but a wicked idea came to mind as well. You wanted to see how he would react to you pulling that new prank that was going around.

You rang up the restaurant and began ordering the food the two of you wanted: “Yes, hi! Can I place an order for delivery? I would like a backstabbing sandwich with a blood strawberry juice, and my husband would like a spicy rainbow pizza with bufo egg milk tea...”

His headphones got thrown off the moment he heard you call him ‘husband’, and he was at your side in an instant.

“Husband? Did you just call me your husband?”

“Yes. Now shush I am trying to listen.“

He freaks out and flails a bit around the room, repeating the word ‘husband’ over and over. Until you are finally off the phone does he cling to you.

“Would you really want me to be your husband? This gross, ugly--”

You kiss him to silence his tiraid. “Of course, I would love for you to be my husband, Levi.”

Totally changes your usernames to something dorky to symbolize your relationships going to the next level.

Satan:

You two are hanging out in his room, studying together for some exams coming up at RAD. He is the best tutor you know of, so of course you are clinging to him for dear life to help you pass. But, he is also the love of your life, so spending any time with him is wonderful for the two of you.

You were sitting on his bed, finishing up a study sheet, when you noticed that you would need another one of his books that was across the room. You looked over to him and gave him the best puppy eyes you could.

“Hubby, do you mind getting that book for me?”

He got up to get said book, but froze midway in his movement. “Hubby? As in...husband?”

“Yes,” you tease, and suddenly he is on you, no book in hand whatsoever.

“Did you really just call me your husband? Because if you did, you are going to have to call me that again, and in front of my brothers. I hope you know what you are signing up for.”

“Clearly I know,” you say with a smirk as you push back against him. “Husband.”

Needless to say, there wasn’t much more studying getting done the rest of that evening.

Asmodeus:

Shopping was a favorite past-time for the both of you, and it was always done together. He was your personal stylist and you a literal model for him; it was quite the exchange, but very enjoyable for the two of you.

You were perusing a section of brightly colored clothing, when you decided to get his full attention: “Hubby, do you think this would look good on me?”

He was at your side instantly. “Did you...did you just call me hubby?” His eyes are wide and he has the biggest smile on his face.

“It just felt natural to call you that. I hope that’s okay.”

“Okay!? It’s beyond okay! Oh my gosh I can’t believe you called me your husband! We need to take a picture and post about it on Devilgram!”

He continues to gush about being your husband, and address himself as such to anyone who gives him an ounce of attention.

Also, totally takes you to a jewelry store to find matching rings for the both of you to wear to seal the deal.

Beelzebub:

You were cooking in the kitchen, when you figured you needed some help reaching for something high in the cabinets. Beel was usually the one around when it was your turn to make dinner, so you decided to call for him.

When he didn’t reply, you tried again: “Beel? Beelzebub!?”

You let out a heavy sigh, and decided to try something new to get his attention. “Where is my helpful husband when I need him!?”

He appeared in the doorway almost instantly, a look of shock and surprise on his face. “Did you...just call me your husband?”

You laugh at the shocked look on his face and motion for him to come help you. “If you don’t get this for me, I might just take it back...”

He moved so fast. You couldn’t help but laugh at his eagerness to help you. He even offered to carry you on his shoulders to get things higher up as needed.

He stayed by your side while you were cooking, his eyes never leaving you. As if he couldn’t take it anymore, he wrapped his around your middle and nuzzled into your cheek.

“Could you...call me your husband again?”

you turned in his arms and hugged him close. “As many times as you like.”

Belphegor:

The two of you were cuddled up together, watching a movie. The idea had been gnawing at the back of your head for some time now, so you figured you were try out the prank on him and see what his reaction would be.

you turned to him and asked, “Husband, could you get us some popcorn from the kitchen, please?”

“Sure,” he mumbled, and got up to head to kitchen. He disappeared through the doorway, and for a minute you thought he didn’t really hear you; until he shot back into the room.

“Wait...did you call me ‘husband’?”

You broke into laughter at the look of confusion on his face, and reassured him that you indeed called him that. He smirked at you and came up to you, towering over you on the couch.

“So I’m your husband now,” he chuckled, leaning down to nuzzle you. “Better make sure you keep calling me that. I really like how it sounds.”

Diavolo:

You knew you had to be careful pulling this prank with Diavolo, given his status and reputation in the Devildom. So it was best to do it when it was just the two of you alone. Given that he had invited you for tea, you figured it would be fun to try it.

You arrived at the Demon Lord’s castle, and Barbatos escorted you to the little room where you both would usually have tea. There was already an assortment of cookies and sweets set up along with the hot tea, and Diavolo was smiling widely when you took your seat.

After a bit of conversation, you figured now was the best time to try it: “Husband, could you pass me a few of those cookies please?”

He was reaching out for said cookies, when he froze and gave you the most dumbfounded look, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide. But it was soon replaced with a beaming smile.

“Husband? I really like the sound of that.”

He took your hand in his, and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I don’t mind at all if you wish to call me that more often...”

Barbatos:

You were spending time with him in the kitchen of the Demon Lord’s castle, watching him work and move around with ease. He was so handsome and joy to your eyes that you couldn’t help but sigh out loud.

“Aren’t I the luckiest, having such a handsome husband.”

If you looked closely, you could catch the slightest hitch in what he was doing; but he kept working as if nothing happened.

For a moment you thought he was going to ignore you; or maybe he hadn’t really heard you given that it was such a small mumble from your brain to begin with. But instead, he said:

“And I the luckiest in return to have such a doting partner.”

you flustered, only the blush even more when he turned around to look at you and walked over to lean and press a kiss to your forehead.

“If you intend to be a distraction, I hate to admit it’s working. My precious little partner.”

Simeon:

You were curled up with him, reading a book together, when a shiver ran through your body. You tried snuggling up to him more, but eventually caved and asked if he had a blanket you could use.

He covered you up and cuddled under the blanket with you, an around wrapping around you to hold you close, and you gave contented sigh.

“Thank you, love. You’re such a good husband.”

You said it so causally that it seemed to go unnoticed for a moment; until you felt him tense next to you. He turned a bit to face you, eyes wide.

“Husband? Me?”

“Of course,” you assure him. “You are so kind and caring towards me, and always take care of me. I love you, my precious husband.”

He felt his heart thudding in his chest so hard he swore it would break right through his ribs. He pulled you into a tight hug and places kisses all over your head and face.

“I do hope that you will keep calling me that. It makes me feel so special...”

Solomon:

He had come to visit you while you were in the human realm, and the two of you were walking around the park near your house when you got a phone call from one of the brothers.

He didn’t mind the interruption; but part of him did feel jealous you were talking to one of the brothers, up until you said, “Oh, I am spending the day with my husband.”

He could hear the screaming coming from the phone and laughed along with you at their reaction; but he then leaned in close to you once you were off the phone and whispered, “So I am your husband now?”

“If you want to be,” you teased in return, placing a hand on his chest.

“Oh, I truly do,” he replied, pulling you in for a tight hug and kiss.

From that point on, he referred to himself as your husband to anyone you came into contact with, including the brothers whenever they called and you were around him.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #diavolo #barbatos #simeon #solomon #headcanons

[thebadboyfanclub]

It Is Time (Daemon x Reader)

This is probably the softest imagine I have written and it was so much fun. I was listening to line without a hook so you get the vibe I was going for.

To be married into the Targaryen was considered a chance of a lifetime for most, however a marriage with the princess of the Summer Islands was a miracle, when (y/n)s father send the raven of her being open to wedlock Jahaerys was the first to respond, offering Daemon as a suitable husband, to align such foreign force was a must for the Targaryens, Daemon at first had retaliated, denying to part take in a loveless marriage with a woman he had never seen to just be a pawn of the king.

That quickly changed when (y/n) visited kings landing, “The diamond of the Summer islands” she was known for her bewitching nature, as she walked next to her father like she owned the place Daemon swallowed thickly at what his eyes were experiencing, it looked like she was a mystical fairy merely flowing instead of using her feet, she was a different type of beauty, a thicker frame with tanned dark skin from the place of endless summer, tall frame and curly hair, her eyes resembled that of a fox, full of mischief and secrets. The daughter of house Truefyre had brought Daemon to his knees with a single glance, once he greeted her and got a hold of her hand he felt shivers down his spine.

“It was the first time I felt like the Gods smiled down at me”

Their wedding was the talk of Westeros, (y/n) and Daemon danced the night away, whispers a of a the union growing strong took over as Daemon was seen tending to his lady wife in every way, shape and form, he was put under a spell that he never wanted to break free from.

“What is it my diamond?”

“I haven’t… bled”

“Oh…. Oh!”

Realisation hit daemon like a stone in the head, Daemon and (y/n) had been every affectionate with one another, Daemon would always have a hand touching (y/n) and there have been rumours of Daemon letting his hand slip in more inappropriate parts, how could he resist? His lady wife was the most perfect creature, his precious diamond that he held close in hopes to protect her forever.

Daemon was not a man of exaggerating declares of happiness, at the news of his wife being with his child he simply smiled and placed a kissed on her forehead before kneeling to be in the same height as her belly.

“I cannot wait to meet you little one”

(Y/n) had wished to reside to the Summer islands, away from duties and pointless dinner with backstabbing lords that would arse kiss in front of her face, her father was gracious enough to offer a castle right next to the sea shore as her wedding gift, Daemon could not deny his love such joy, he also secretly wanted to have a quiet life with his family.

As the morrows came and went (y/n) was changing by the hour, her lady nature kicked in with impeccable strength, compelling the princess to shed tears at the sight of a cat playing with her kittens, her hand was always caressing her growing belly as she sang to the babe while sitting in a swing located in a beautiful orange tree, the breeze passing through her as she rested in the shade and enjoyed the sounds of nature.

“The princess requested for deer meat with… peach jam”

Daemon found himself giving her strange requests to the cooks more than he liked to admit, it was almost a daily ritual for her to wake up in all hours of the night and beg her husband for stuff like plum juice and oysters, strawberry cake and beef meat, he would sometimes think her cravings were the reason of her sickness, although he was smarter than uttering his concern, he would simply nod and go searching for whatever she had asked for.

“I have gotten fat”

“You are with child”

“I am fat with child”

Daemon took in the scene of his wife standing as she watched herself in the mirror, she had gotten bigger as time went on but that was normal for her journey in motherhood. He had been reading a book in his bed when he puffed out a breath and stood up to approach her, (y/n) quickly went to wrap herself with her silk rob yet Daemon stopped her, on her vanity she had an open jar of cream that she would often run her belly with, it soothed her from the itching. Daemon took a small amount and gently went over the stretched skin with care.

“You are a mother, a beautiful woman that is strong enough to carry a child in her with such grace that you make it seem easy, I look at you and I see the world in those dark hues of yours”

“You are going to make me cry”

“I am going to make you happy and when the time comes and our baby is born I will be sure to let them know how infuriatingly gorgeous their mother was when you were carrying them”

“I hope it is a girl”

“I pray that it is healthy, now it is time you rest and no more talking down on your figure, the mother of my child will never be disrespected like that”

Daemon had been (y/n)s shadow, making sure she had everything her heart desires and was happy until she laid next to him with a grin, it was the only way Daemon could drift off, he wouldn’t be able to even sleep for an hour if he wasn’t certain his wife was unwell, especially now that she was risking her life for the birth of their child.

“Daemon, Daemon wake up”

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“It is time”

“Oh seven hells, I’ll summon the maester”

“No, no, take me to the ocean”

“(Y/n) it is not the time to swim”

“Daemon for the love of everything that is holy, take me to the fucking ocean”

Daemon was smart enough to understand there was no room for him to protest and not to even negotiate about it, he simply took his dear wife gently in his arms as she grunted and moaned and safely let her feel the coldness of the ocean waves. (Y/n) was overcome by a sense of relief from her muscles as the water soothed the ache, washing it away with each wave, her back resting against a rock with her legs spread wide open to give the babe access.

“Now may I call the maester?”

“No, I don’t want them here”

“Why?”

“I want you to be the first one to hold it, not a bunch of people who will let me know the gender before the status of the babes health”

Daemon empathised with his love, wet nurses and maesters were known for not quite caring of anyone’s health, only to deliver the next heir of the Targaryen bloodline.

Daemon nodded mostly to himself before he kneeled so he can take a proper look and guide his wife as much as he could.

“Now I am not trained for this but I’ll do my best”

“It’s alright my sweet, I just need you to hold it when it gets here”

(Y/n) was doing a wonderful job during the entire labour, if Daemon did not know any better he would say (y/n) had gotten through labour a thousand of times, the sound of the ocean calmed her nerves and the cold water seemed to come in to use as beats of sweat appeared on her forehead, she would often ask Daemon to splash her in the face or her chest.

“Here we go my diamond, just a little more”

It had been the wee hours of the morning until the babe was released from her, relief washed over her as her legs could finally spread flat and rest. Daemon caught the babe that was greeted by the ocean first before it was finally secure in their fathers arms, the beautiful little star cried while Daemon cut the cord with his dagger.

“Is the babe alright?”

“The dragon is as strong as her mother”

“Her? A girl?”

“Indeed”

“Give her to me”

Daemon silently complied, passing the fragile little girl in her mothers arms. (Y/n) had never felt more accomplished before, she delivered her daughter right as she wished, with her husband and with the strength of the ocean.

In her land the sea goddess was also the goddess of fertility, frequently plenty of couples would bring their babes to the shore and let the water caress the babes skin as a thank you to the goddess for allowing them to expand their families, to be able to give birth right in the goddesses home was a dream for a plethora of women.

“How about Ariel?”

“An unusual name for a Targaryen, what will your dear family say?”

“I couldn’t give two shits about them, you and our precious Ariel are the beginning and the end for me”

“you have become such a poet my prince”

“How could I not? dear (y/n) you have turned my life to a living fairytale”

“Help me up please”

Daemon allowed his wife to carry the small child while he carried her, the maester along with the servants were waiting for the couples arrival back to the castle, they were aware of how sacred this moment had been for them and watched from the sidelines, praying that everything would go smoothly.

“Behold (y/n) of House Truefyre and our first born, Ariel Targaryen”

(Y/n) only giggled as Daemon puffed out his chest with pride and carried her to their chamber while all the servants beamed with joy.

“I believe we should take the babe for a bath”

“No maester Gerald I will do it”

“As you wish princess”

“My love, you should rest”

“I would rather be Caraxes next meal than allow someone else experience her first milestones instead of us”

Daemon only leaned to peck his wives lips with the utmost adoration, his diamond was meant to become a mother and he felt a certain sense of honour that she chose him to share her future with.

The servants prepared the bath for little Ariel while (y/n) and Daemon kneeled, the babes first sensation was the ocean so Ariel was peaceful as the warm water was gently washing away the salt of the waves.

“She will be a strong dragon rider, like you”

“Or a graceful princess of the summer islands, like you”

(Y/n) leaned closer to her husband as a way to express her emotions to him. It was Daemons turn to smile at her, (y/n) was everything Daemon never thought he deserved in life, sometimes he would think what would his life be if he had not married her, and the result was just grim and cold.

“We should call the wet nurses my sweet, Ariel will need to feed in a while”

“Wet nurses? Daemon this is not kings landing, we feed our babes here”

He would never imagine he could love his wife more, that is until he was part of the moment (y/n) fed Ariel, such a sacred ritual and bond with mother and daughter. (Y/n) laid comfortably in their bed after she had a scorching hot bath with her favourite scented soap which was lily flowers, Daemon had even braided her wet hair so it will be out of her face and make her feel pretty.

(Y/n) hummed a tune to their little princess, light beaming through the windows on this glorious day and their babe healthy and already loved tremendously suckling on its mothers breast, (y/n) could almost feel the women of her bloodline gather around them and bless the babe with their hands on her shoulders, resilient women who suffered through months of pain, swelling, restless nights, broke their hips for the birth, even produced milk for their children to feed, Daemon had been a warrior who had taken plenty of life’s, his wife was a warrior who created a life.

“It is time for you to rest”

“No, I don’t want to take my eyes off of her, I want to watch her breathe”

“Alright, I’ll sit right by you with Ariel as you sleep, I will watch her for you. Do you trust me with that?”

“I suppose”

Daemon did as such, sitting up in their bed holding the princess while (y/n) got comfortable with her pillow, her eyelids were already heavy but she still fought, Daemon rocking the babe without even realising how bright he was smiling at his daughter was such a gorgeous sight to miss, they were not just husband and wife now, nor prince and princess of anything, they were mother and father, parents that would offer their life for their daughter, a bond made by passion and kept by devotion and love.

She drifted off to sleep with the sound of her daughter cooing at her father, praying that her body won’t be in need of countless hours of sleep, since she looked forward to waking up and be fully capable of holding her daughter again.

Requests are open

#daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x you #daemon targaryen fic #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon x reader #daemon x oc #male wife daemon #daemon targaryen fanfic #hotd daemon #daemon prince #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen headcanon #daemon targaryen x you #hotd fanfic #hotd #hotd fic #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon x reader #hotd season 1

[mowu-moment]

ranking food tokens by how much personally i want to eat them

- Throne of Eldraine -

i have reason to distrust this meat pie thing, not only because of its wails of anguish but it also seems to have burst a bit in the oven. still not honestly opposed, at least the dishes are clean. 5/10.

how does one unpeel a curly banana? why are there sliced-open fruits on what appears to be a stone in the woods? where is the light coming from? i'm going to be taken by the fae and it's not even gonna taste too good while i'm at it, these things look dirty. but idk i don't mind someone else taking the wheel of my life rn. 2/10.

again, concerns about the floor food, but at least it looks more like some deliverygirl got eaten by a wolf and dropped her basket than a trap. someone already took a bite, though, maybe i should leave it be. 4/10

i have been invited to the Goblin King's Feast and while i don't fully agree with his choices i will certainly partake. boar looks wonderful apart from the hair. 7/10

- Commander 2020 / Strixhaven Commander -

i'm pretty sure cattails are poisonous to humans (not to mention the actual poisons in there) so i unfortunately can't oblige gyome's swamp soup. that crusty bread looks pretty nice though. i'll pick this thing apart like high school cafeteria lunch. 3/10.

- Modern Horizons 2 -

i at least know who cooked this one, and i trust asmor a decent bit, but this is still food for demons, so maybe it's not too good for me. goddamn do i wanna know what it tastes like though. 4/10.

- Unfinity -

i'm considering these two together. as a filthy american, i am allured by these fat-filled foods, but as a lad with a tiny stomach, i doubt i could eat enough to feel good about not wasting it. astrotorium's about excess, goddamn. the only funfair burger i've had was the best thing i had eaten in months, but it also made me ill the rest of the day. i really do want some infinity fries though, those look like the golden mean between a steak fry and a curly fry. 6/10.

- March of the Machine Commander -

meanwhile this looks like a texture nightmare. like i respect it, i imagine it's filling and fulfilling, but i don't think i ever could eat more than a bite or two. bread looks a little worse than gyome's but only a little. 5/10.

- Lord of the Rings: Tales of Middle-Earth -

my white ass loves a charcuterie board. and i'm not going to be intimidated out of it by not eating enough, since it's all in snack-sized bits already. definitely gonna overindulge this sucker. i'm nervous about some of those spreads though. 9/10.

this looks like i'm in a dream, is it actively cooking? or still hot? i can't identify what's in that pan anyway. i'm leaving it alone out of respect. wouldn't mind a drink though. 2/10.

this is not food. for humans. 0/10.

- Wilds of Eldraine -

this is a king's feast i am properly intimidated by. i'm more into it than the Goblin King's, particularly that triple-layer blueberry pie or whatever that is, but i'm going to have to be as polite as possible lest i get a face full of flaming beer. 8/10

i'll probably be eaten before this can eat me, and it barely looks like food, but at least i go down with sugar in the mouth. 1/10.

ogh. that egg looks divine. the bread looks amazing, there's a full glass, i've got like beans or mermaid tears everywhere. we've even got seasonings back there. the best damn breakfast i'll ever have. 10/10.

i would still probably eat this over nothing. there's onion, at least. i will either be hexed or violently ill, but like i could at least get it down. and maybe the witchmother is testing my strength and she'll reward me after slurping an eyeball. a convenient lie to tell myself. 2/10.

- Doctor Who Commander -

y'know, four, i think i would like a copyrighted candy. they look sad and british, which is on point. but like it's not actively killing me like half of these. i think anyway. i don't know doctor who. 6/10.

what is this? i have no idea. custard? raw batter? giant dunkaroo? is he dipping fishsticks? it doesn't look like it's done cooking, like do we need to put it in a fryer again? i'd say it's inedible but it's not poison stew so i have to be nice. 4/10.

get AWAY from me. this is a PERSONAL vendetta. i would rather try to eat spiderwebs. plus he's already eaten half of it. -10/10.

- Fallout Commander -

i can't be too mean since this is literally apocalypse food. i think i prefer this over poison stew? like i recognize it at least, even if it's foul and moldy. man has to eat something. 3/10

i'm not convinced there's actual soda in here. is this just a perspective shot or is this a giant prop soda? i don't like cola anyway. again, worth it in an apocalypse i suppose. 4/10

this soda i trust even less. it glows? does this give me magic powers in the fallout world or does it just kill me slowly? i think it'll kill me slowly anyway. i need fluid to survive in apocalypseland but damn i hate for it to come to this. 2/10.

#mtg #i haven't had breakfast yet today so this is driving me a little looney

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

I Would Have Killed You

Astarion x Evie (Ace!Tav) Masterlist

Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Asexual!Tav, Astarion x OC, Astarion x Evie

A/N: This took forever, but hey! It's done. This is also my first experiment in using third person instead of second person when writing for Evie (Ace!Tav), so let me know if you want to stick with this or switch back to how it was before.

Warning: angst, blood, dissociation, Astarion being bad at emotions, heavy kissing

Summary: Astarion is reminded of the person he was before the tadpoles and what that means for his and Evie's future.

Word Count: 4.1K

It was so easy. Astarion almost felt bad for the little tavern mouse waiting at the door.

Almost.

He had been instructed to bring a bard to the palace. His master gave no explanation and Astarion knew better than to ask. 

He had found this one playing at the Elfsong. They were a newcomer to Baldur’s Gate. No friends. No connections. Nobody who would miss them. 

He gestured them into the hallway, plastering his most practiced smile. 

The mouse gave him a tentative nod in return as they looked up and around, taking in the space.

 The entryway succeeded in its intended effect, dwarfing all who stepped foot into its open maw. The walls were lined with deep reds contrasted against gold finery before pushing down a dark hallway. The only light came from a handful of candles and the clouded night just outside the windows. Of course, it didn’t look any more inviting during the day. Sunlight had not touched these halls in centuries. 

Astarion guided them forward, placing a hand on their shoulder, just in case. 

He tried not to worry. This was a new kind of trap he had put together, one improvised in the moment. It was rare for his lines to fail him so completely, but he had managed to salvage the conversation with the promise of employment. He was fairly certain it would work, but hardly the guarantee getting on his back would have assured. 

Words drifted in his ears, something clever to disguise nerves. 

He replied with his usual flattery; a few words assuring them how they were the best he had ever heard and something about his master being entranced. 

He could hear their heart hammering as their eyes flickered from window to window, never focusing on one thing for more than a few seconds. Searching for an exit perhaps. 

He kept his footsteps measured, quick to engage them in banal conversation. Couldn’t have the scurrying off now, not when he was so close. 

A pair of double doors forced him to pause before turning to his offering. He said something he supposed was encouraging as they gave him something akin to a smile. At the very least their breathing was less shallow. 

It was good enough and with a grand gesture, he opened the doors, revealing a table set for a lamb to slaughter. 

Foods of various kinds covered the entire surface. The noise of smells bombarded his nose, sickly sweet and ripe as rot. Steam from vegetables and freshly prepared meats choked his lungs. Candles littered every surface. He could feel his eyes start to burn, whether from the smoke or brightness, he couldn’t be sure. All the same, he didn’t need his senses to feel his master’s smile as the lord rose to his feet.

Astarion gave a bow, followed quickly by the mouse. 

It didn’t escape his notice how resolutely they maintained their gaze just left of his master’s shoulder and not the feast in front of them. 

“I am glad to see you have found your way,” the master said, his voice decadent. “Please, join me.”

The mouse hesitated, caught between proprietary and something else. Astarion didn’t know how he missed it. Gods knew he had seen it in the face of his “siblings”. He wore it himself often enough. Little thing was starving. 

A sense of calm came over him. He had been worried over nothing. Desperation was just as secure a motivator as lust. 

Still, the mouse did try to maintain some dignity; something about not being able to accept such hospitality without earning it. 

His master raised a hand in dismissal. “Nonsense. If Astarion’s praise is anything like truth, you will more than earn a meal here.” 

It was the excuse they needed as they took deliberate steps to the lord’s side. 

“Astarion. You will join us.”

It wasn’t a question and he wasn’t in a position to make it one. This held the promise of being wholly painless. Whatever game his master was playing, he would do his part. 

Astarion spoke his thanks and took a seat on the master’s other side. 

The mouse tried so hard. They waited patiently for the master to start the meal before serving themselves, careful not to overload their plate. This was an audition after all, they couldn’t risk making a bad first impression. Of course, it did nothing to quell the hunger in their eyes. Each bite was brought carefully to their mouth with such slowness it appeared painful. 

Despite himself, Astarion had to admire their restraint. He wondered what they would do differently if they knew this would be their last meal. 

He did his part to appear engaged. He moved food on his plate around and pretended to take a drink of wine, mindful to not let any pass his lips. 

It would all be over soon. He would return to the kennels tonight with food in his stomach and the skin remaining on his back. He would not give the master an excuse. Besides, his lord seemed occupied assaulting the bard with questions. 

Astarion tried his best not to listen. If the master wished to play with his food, there was little he could do to stop him. His part was done. The mouse was nothing to him. Sure, some of their conversation had been stimulating, but it did not make up for their fundamental stupidity. They deserved what was coming if they allowed themselves to be caught in such an obvious trap. So what if they were starving? What did they know of true starvation? Let them rot in a tomb for a year, unable to die. That would teach them to accept anything too good to be true. 

“It is good to see you fed,” his master said. “If I may be blunt, you seemed near faint when you came in.” 

The mouse gave an embarrassed look, answering with a self deprecating affirmative. 

“Perhaps now you may give us a proper performance.” 

They nodded, rising to their feet with more confidence than what they came in with. Astarion supposed a full stomach would do that. He wondered idly if that somehow made a difference to the quality of the blood. He knew his master too well to assume he was granting the little snack a kindness before their death. Perhaps fear spoiled the taste. 

The bard took a position on the small podium just to the side of the dining table, pulling out a well kept violin out of a travel worn case. 

“Let us see if your songbird lives up to expectations,” his master said, the words coming as light as a knife pressed against his throat.  

Astarion’s spine stiffened, forcing himself not to swallow. 

So, that was the game. Each of his siblings had received similar instructions no doubt. Find a bard in the city, any bard. He didn’t know the prize for finding the best, but he had a fair idea of what the punishment would be for bringing the worst. 

His offering held their violin across their chest, ready for the lord’s request. 

“Whatever is your favorite,” his master replied. 

Astarion held his breath as the bard let go of theirs allowing strings to fill the air. 

The first handful of notes came like a caress against his cheek, so careful and warm he nearly flinched. It didn’t shy away, and slowly he felt himself relax into its touch. 

They were good. He had gotten an idea at the tavern, but that was for the unwashed masses of the lower city, not the private dining room of a palace. If anything, the change in scenery made their playing all the more potent. 

The music slipped past his ears, boring deeper and deeper until he could feel it in his very bones. He found himself unable to look away. It compelled him back into his body and to the ever present here and now. Each note came as a release, an inspiration to keep living long enough to hear the next. If only they could play forever, perhaps they would never die.

There was something so familiar about it. Not the melody, but the phrasing, the shape of the notes as they whispered unknowable nothings into his heart. He knew that voice. 

A smile spread across the bard’s face, content and lost in the music, wholly unaware.

Oh Gods. Evie.

Fear clutched his chest. He tried to open his mouth, but his lips remained placid. He felt the muscles strain with the effort and yet not so much as a twitch appeared on his face. He pulled at his arms, his hands, legs, neck, anything. He couldn’t move. His skin remained an impassive shell, trapping him inside his own body. 

Bile rose in his throat. Cazador found him. It was the only explanation. Something went wrong with the tadpoles. The bastard was in his head. 

To his horror the song came to a close. 

Evie held her position as every good performer would, not even opening her eyes as the remains of the strings echoed into nothing. 

A slow clap came from behind him filling the sudden stillness. How he didn’t flinch was beyond his comprehension. 

She smiled in appreciation, giving a graceful bow. The triumph in her eyes made him want to wretch. 

Run. Please, my love. Run!

“Beautiful,” Cazador said. “A truly remarkable songbird. It’s a wonder you were so eager to share Astarion. If it were me, I would keep her all to myself.” 

Astarion felt the shell bow its head in respect.  

“Far be it for me to deny you, master,” it said. 

“Indeed.” Cazador then turned his sights to Evie. “I would have this settled tonight. Join me in my study so we may discuss the terms of your employment.”

“Oh…thank you,” she said, the uncertainty clear in her tone. “Will Astarion be joining us?” 

“That will not be necessary,” Cazador said, his tone quickly losing its patience. “As it stands, Astarion has his own duties to attend to.” 

Evie wavered, her eyes darting between him and the double doors. 

This was their chance. Control of his limbs was out, but Astarion wasn’t about to give up. He dug in deeper into this mind. Surely the tadpole hadn’t been removed. It was just dormant, something. If he could just make contact. All he needed was a wriggle. The second he was free, he was going to tear the bastard’s throat out! 

“I thank you for the offer, my lord,” she said. “But if it’s possible, I would like a day to think about it. If we could meet tomorrow morning–.” 

“Do you think I make this offer lightly?” Cazador snapped. “If you wish to return to the streets in which you were found, you may. You are impressive, but do not think I cannot find another.” 

Evie’s eyes widened, her hands clutching her violin tighter against her body. 

The decision was written all over her face. She was still so hungry. 

The shell’s aloof expression faltered. Brows cinched together as its mouth turned into a line. 

“Oh go on little mouse. Off to the slaughter with you.”

Astarion froze. That wasn’t Cazador. 

“I apologize, my lord,” Evie said. “I did not mean to offend. Of course, I am honored by your offer. I will gladly join you.”  

A smile spread across Cazador’s face, one made of teeth and condescension. 

“Excellent.” 

He rose to his feet, gesturing to a side door leading out of the dining room. 

Evie’s heartbeat came hard in his ears. Still she packed away her violin, preparing to follow Cazador wherever he would lead her. 

Astarion’s throat tore with the effort to scream. His nail dug into the walls of his insides, pulling and grasping at flesh. He didn’t know how this was happening and frankly didn’t care. Anything beyond the beating of Evie’s heart was meaningless. He needed to get out. He didn’t care if he had to claw out of his own skin.

Evie all too soon joined Cazador’s side. The bastard placed a hand on her arm much as his own had before, guiding her out of the room to certain death. 

There was only one option left. Instead of turning inward to the tadpole that, for some reason, had abandoned him, he pushed his thoughts outward. 

Master. Please. Don’t do this. Hear me. I’ll do anything. I’ll bring you hundreds, thousands more. Whatever you ask of me, I will do. Just let her go. Please.

Cazador paused, turning his head slightly over his shoulder. 

“You may go, Astarion. Make sure to clean this mess. And take the tray with you.” 

The shell turned its gaze to the one closed tray left on the table. The faint smell of death and something else sickeningly familiar hit his nose. 

“Not as festering,” it thought idly. 

No, he thought. He was thinking these things. He was the one doing this. He was the one killing her. 

He didn’t even look up as the pair of footsteps left the room, the door closing behind them with a decisive thud. 

Like an animal he pounced on the tray, throwing the top aside to dig his hands into the fat, putrid rat waiting for him. 

His teeth tore into its stomach, tainted blood mixed with other bile filling his mouth, but still he drank. It was a drop of water to a dying man, not nearly enough and only meant to serve as a reminder of absence. Still, he could not deny himself. This was more than he had in a week. 

His victory would no doubt be short lived. Cazador would find some way to punish him later for some imagined transgression, but at least tonight he wouldn’t suffer. 

Evie’s heart disappeared behind the door. He almost wished it would stay that way. Silence would bring him the gift of denial, but since when had he ever been lucky. 

Somewhere far away, he heard a cry of fear transform into pleas for help, then mercy, and then just pain until even those fell to nothing. 

He couldn’t speak, but gods did he scream. 

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

In a sudden jolt, he was upright, darkness invading his vision blurred at the edges by orange candle light. 

He was breathing hard. His heart didn’t race, but his limbs trembled all the same. In some attempt to calm himself, he raised a hand to his brow pushing back the hair that had fallen across his forehead. 

He paused, a sudden wave of relief washing over him. He had moved his hand. He was in control. His limbs, his breath, his body was entirely his own. A quick focus inward assured the rest. The tadpole was safe and sound, wriggling away. 

The room around him started to come into focus. He was in the Elfsong. A quick glance revealed the rest of his companions fast asleep in their beds. For once he was grateful to hear Karlach’s snoring. He couldn’t be anywhere else. 

His eyes turned to that one candle burning just beside him. 

Evie had insisted, claiming she couldn’t sleep without one. It was a lie, of course. Astarion knew well enough she could fall asleep standing on her head if pressed. The candle had been for him; another small kindness to add to the ongoing list. 

A slight shift in the bed refocused his attention, turning to the other laying beside him.

“Astarion? What’s wrong?”

Her voice was low and thick with sleep. Her eyes were barely open and her hair was a complete mess on the pillow. Now would be the perfect moment to tease her, to kiss her and slip back beneath the sheets, but he couldn’t bring himself to do any of it. He was too focused on the rise and fall of her chest and the steady rhythm of her heart. 

“Astarion?” Evie repeated, concern now slipping into her voice as she turned more decidedly toward him. 

He shook himself out of his head, slipping a practiced smile to his face. 

“It’s nothing darling,” he assured. “Go back to sleep.”

“Can’t, I’m up now,” she said, stretching herself further awake. 

She held her arms open to him.  He knew he didn’t have to. It wasn’t a demand or even an expectation; merely an invitation, one he didn’t have the strength to decline. 

He fell into her, wrapping her in his arms and burying himself in her neck. He let her scent fill his lungs, chasing away the lingering rot with the life of her blood and subtle musk of her skin. Her heart pressed against his chest so close he could feel it echo inside him like a memory. He felt her fingers card through his hair cradling his head against her in gentle assurance, as if she wasn’t holding a monster who could drain her dry with just the slightest parting on his mouth. Gods, what had he done to deserve this?

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, her breath soft and warm against his ear. 

He didn’t answer right away, pressing his lips against her neck as his mind turned searching for the right thing to say. Words continued to evade him as he moved his touch further up, catching the underside of her jaw, her cheek, the edge of her mouth, the tip of her nose until finally he landed on her lips. He kissed her softly, just a brush really, any more would be too much. 

Another thing to add to the list, the solace in knowing he didn’t need to do anything else. No performance. No seductions. Just this. 

He pulled back, cupping her face in his hand. 

Her eyes were so soft, even as a crease worried her brow. He knew that was for him too. There was a time he would have scoffed at that look, dismissing it as pity instead of the care it was. Now it just made him ache. 

His lips found hers again, kissing her long and deep.

He loved her.  He knew that now. He had a suspicion he had known for a while, but couldn't allow himself to see it.

The word didn’t disgust him as it first might have done, but gods did it terrify him. His dream revealed more than one truth. He knew now the things he’d be willing to do, the parts of himself he’d be willing to sacrifice to keep her safe. By all accounts he should be cursing her name, but he just kept kissing her. 

He couldn’t stop. His lips found new purpose, touching and tasting any inch of skin within reach. Nothing bad could happen just so long as he kept touching her. He’d hold her forever if he could, absorb her into his skin and keep her safe there. Nobody would hurt them ever again. 

“Astarion?” His name came out in a choked breath, pulling him back to himself and to her. 

He pulled back, going rigid in alarm as if he’d just be dunked in a tank of cold water. Somehow he had turned her beneath him, his body pressed between her legs and against her whole body. He pushed himself onto his hands, shame sinking into his stomach. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “Are you alright?”

She shook her head, but it was plain enough by her expression to see she was overwhelmed. He could hear her heart hammering in his ears and cursed himself for not checking in sooner. 

“I should have asked,” he said. “I wasn’t trying for more. I just–.”

“I know,” she assured.  “Just needed to catch my breath. You know that thing mortals do.” 

Some of the tension in his shoulders eased. He could take a bad joke if it meant she wasn’t truly hurt. 

Her hand found his cheek, simultaneously gentle and rough to the touch. He leaned into her, indulging in the sensation. It centered him in a way he couldn’t put into words. Something about the callous and healed cuts of her fingers made the reality of her all the more potent. 

“You did nothing wrong,” she said firmly. “But I do think you need to talk about it.” 

He let out a short sigh, knowing there was no side stepping the conversation and kissing his way out was now firmly off the table. 

He fell back onto the bed, mindful to keep his distance even as his body yearned to have her close. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at her, instead focusing on the darkened wood ceiling. 

“I killed you,” he said. There was no softer way to put it and he didn’t have the inclination to try. “I handed you over to Cazador without a second thought, all for a rat and a night’s respite.” 

A mirthless laugh escaped his throat. Gods what a mess, but what else did he expect? This was still his life, for lack of a better word. 

“Why do you trust me?”  he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. 

She remained silent for a long time before he caught the glimpse of a shrug out of the corner of his eye. 

“Well you did ask me very nicely.”

“I’m serious,” he pressed, turning his head toward her. “I would have killed you. The moment we met, I lied to you and held a knife to your throat. That doesn’t exactly inspire loyalty.” 

Her lips pressed into a thoughtful line, remaining agonizingly silent. He was tempted to use the worm, if only to get a glimpse of what exactly she was thinking.

“You’re right,” she said, carefully.  “And I didn’t trust you, at first. But, that was then. This is now.”

Her hand found his, slipping between his fingers and giving them a gentle squeeze.

“You’ve saved my life more times than I care to admit, for a start,” she continued. “You’ve stayed with me when it would have been more convenient to leave me behind. You’ve allowed me to be honest with parts of myself the world kept telling me to bury away. And because of this.”

She moved forward, closing just enough distance just to press the barest kiss to his lips. It caught in his chest, imprinting itself somewhere inside him no one else had managed to find. 

“You’re still a scoundrel and a rogue,” she whispered, “but when it matters, I know you’ll be there. At least, you have been so far.” 

“Always.”

The promise came so easily to his lips, but it was the truth, one he felt more deeply than he realized until that moment. He wasn’t going to let her slip away. The world didn’t get to do that to him.

As if somehow sensing his thoughts, Evie moved closer, pressing herself against his side and draping her arm across his chest. 

He took the offer, pulling her more securely into his arms. The fever had broken, but he would not deny himself relief from the symptoms. He contented himself with the warmth of her body and the perfume of her hair in his nose. He really did need to ask her what exactly she used. He’d buy the whole supply. 

She tried to stay awake. He could feel her fingers trace nonsensical patterns into his skin. It didn’t last long. Her movements still and soon enough her body fell completely slack against him. 

He pressed a kiss against her forehead, lingering on the peace of the moment as a new resolve filled him. 

Cazador would die, that much he knew for certain the moment he stepped into the city. He wasn’t going to spend the remainder of his life looking over his shoulder. He would have his revenge and tear that bastard apart for everything he had ever done to him, made better still by ruining his long awaited ascension and taking that power for his own.  

He knew Evie’s hesitations. She’d expressed her doubts often enough, questioning if it was worth the price. He could understand why, after all it was her compassion that had allowed him to hold her like this, foolish as it was. 

What was a little more blood on his hands if it kept hers clean. His “siblings” were no better than him. He’d be doing the world a favor. And in exchange, no one would ever control him again. No more pain. No more running. Nobody would touch him. He’d be free and Evie would be safe. 

Once he ascended no force in the world would be foolish enough to try and take her from him. And if Evie agreed to become a vampire herself? If he could give her just a drop of that same power, not even time could touch her. They could have eternity. All it would take was a few meaningless deaths. 

He wouldn’t let her trust in him come to nothing. He would keep them safe. Forever. For good. 

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x evie #astarion x oc #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion bg3 #asexual!tav #bard!tav #evie #astarion x reader

[thepringlesofblood]

i am SCREAMING!!!!! YESSSSSYESSSSSSSSSSSSSS ACOC is one of my FAVORITE SERIES ALL TIIIIIME!!!!!!!!

okwearebreathingwearebreathing

I’m going in-depth on the names we have thus far. Calorum is the setting that has some of the cleverest wordplay ever, period, and I want to know EVERYTHING about our new guys!!!!!

let’s get this one out of the way

Colin Provlone (Zac Oyama) - Provolone is a kind of cheese. Colin is a name of Irish/Scottish origin. It’s nice to have one simple one.

Bishop Raphaniel Charlock (Brennan Lee Mulligan) - hmmmm are we going to get an actually Bulbian cleric/warlock this season????

Anyway, the scientific name for wild radish is Raphanus raphanistrum, so that’s probably where Raphaniel came from.

wild radish has two other names - “jointed charlock” and “white charlock”. So there we go.

Your typical red radish (as Brennan described his character to look like) is a subspecies of Raphanus raphanistrum called sativus.

but!!! even MORE interesting!!!! you know what order and family radishes are in? the order BRASSICALES in the family BRASSICACEAE!!!!! Like a certain pontifex we know of??

This could be 100% unintentional, there’s a Lot of vegetables in the family Brassicaceae, but I remain optimistic.

Lady Amangeaux Epiceé du Peche (Anjali Bhimani) - so, Fructera has always been French, natch.

She is a mango! French for mango = la mangue

Amangeaux = almonds (according to google translate, I couldn’t find this word anywhere else online, it’s extremely possible that it’s just the most French-sounding way of saying “a mango”)

Epiceé  = spicy (can be used as slang for y’know. spICY)

du Peche = of peach. maybe she is of house Peach?

Karna Solara (Aabria Iyengar) - this one has me kind of stumped.

there’s the obvious karn->carn->meat connection, but she’s a chili pepper. lmk if there’s some secret vegetable lore I’m missing with ‘karna’

there’s also solar -> sun, which makes sense since the crest of Brightgarden is a big sun, and we see the DM screen this season has a big sun on it.

pLUS when I looked up scientific name for chili pepper, they come from the order Solanales in the family Solanaceae.

Thane Delissandro Katzon (Lou Wilson) -

Katzon

immediately made me think of katsudon- an egg rice bowl w pork cutlet on top.

thank you @blueaerin for your post about how this is most likely a reference to Katz’s Delicatessan, a famous deli in NYC! I never would’ve know that.

Also “katson” = Finnish for “I look” - from the verb “katsoa” meaning “to look at” or “to watch over” - probably nothing.

Delissandro - deli - deli meat

Delicatessen - the double s inspired by this?

while I was looking at Finnish stuff i found out “delissa” means “at the deli” in Finnish

Thane - y’all who read Macbeth know this one.

In Anglo-Saxon culture, It’s a title of a landowner, specifically someone who was gifted land by a king.

In Scotland, it’s a feudal lord.

There’s a connotation of military use in all of the descriptions I’ve found, so judging by the armor he’s wearing, it might be being used as a term for “commander”

#d20 #dimension 20 #trw #the ravening war #acoc #original post #ref