#we die like fleas

[sad-silly-swamp]

I think upon rewatching Fleabag I’ve started to dislike the Hot Priest a little. I’m sure he doesn’t mean to, as all characters in Fleabag he’s ultimately gray morally, but he hurts Fleabag pretty badly. During the confession scene Fleabag is expressing venerability, she’s pouring her heart out to HP, and in the moment of silence when he has the chance to see her as a person and help her, as someone in his position should.

(He’s a priest. It’s his job to guide and comfort. But he’s also a deeply flawed person.)

HP hurts Fleabag by turning this scene sexual. He doesn’t mean to, sure, but it doesn’t matter what he intended, he does hurt her. Fleabag sees herself as a sexual creature, she sees her self worth through the filter of what others (read: men) can take from her. When HP takes sexual advances it’s all they both know, and it sends them down the darker path. And ultimately, when they part ways, Fleabag is much worse off than before they met.

Of course HP doesn’t wanna hurt Fleabag. He loves her as much as he can. Fleabag loves him too. It doesn’t make either of them lesser people, or bad people. And they both do mean to do the best. But they hurt each other anyways.

#fleabag #hotpriest #hot priest #fleabag show #phoebe waller bridge #phoebe waller-bridge #andrew scott #flea #no editing #we die like men #we die like boo? #too soon? #swamp speaks

[iknowwhereyousleepatnight]

Do you have a least favorite animal?

idk. i love all animals. well. except for fleas and ticks. sorry fleas and ticks but i cannot stand you and your blatant disregard for the precautions we install to keep you away. the amount of money spent trying to get rid of them is ridiculous. i wouldn't mind them if they didn't come and infest my pets and my home every year. and they bite and it sucks

#ask #literally no other bug bothers me as much as them #even ones that sting/bite idc they are nice #fleas have done horrendous damage to our pets and our stuff #some of our cats have baldspots from where they try to get rid of them #and i feel so bad #but like. #we have like.5 flea traps. we have a spray that kills fleas. we have spent so much money to get most of our pets flea collars and guess wha #we still have fleas #i hope they die off in the winter because i hate them. they're not as bad rn as the spring/summer #and ticks are so annoying they low-key freak me out and i'm usually very chill w bugs. like. i'll hold wasps sometimes #but ticks ahdadalkjdkhaj i fucking hate them #fleas are the most annoying and bothersome but ticks like. disgust me i cannot be around them they make me want to throw up

[absentlyabbie]

i'll tell you what converted me to being all-in on keeping cats indoors only:

living for a year and a half in a rural area with a sudden feral cat colony explosion on the property.

i moved in with my folks for a bit and at that time, one (1) stray cat mama had taken up residence on the property, but was too feral to let my mother anywhere near her. but especially after she brought three kittens around, mom fed her and the kittens in hopes they'd grow trusting enough she could catch for spay and neuter at the minimum. momcat stayed mean and hella wary, but the kittens would hang around a little nearer and play with my mom via long stick, but still wouldn't come close enough to touch or catch.

unfortunately, two of the three kittens were girls and started having kittens of their own before further progress was made, shortly after i moved in. and that was pretty much instant doom.

there were so many kittens. SO MANY. multiple litters. every time we turned around, more kittens.

we fed them. we hunted for and located the kittens every time anywhere on the property and would move them to a repurposed doghouse anytime a mama cat had them somewhere else, so that they could grow up human-socialized and we could spay/neuter them when they were old enough. (also it was a handy tactic to push the issue of the mamas getting more used to/trusting of us themselves. only really worked with one of them, though.)

and we watched them die.

we watched litter after litter of kittens never make it to the age they could be spayed or neutered. the moms stayed, for the longest time, too skittish to more than briefly touch, much less catch and crate for a vet visit.

it sounds like a silly joke to say i have kitten-related ptsd, but i absolutely do.

too many goddamn times i'd walk out of the garage and find the carport and gravel drive strewn with tiny bodies. others simply went missing, never to be found.

one in particular, i wish i hadn't found, and the visual literally haunts me still, almost a decade later.

i saw so many kittens die of snake bite, spider bite, wild dogs, birds of prey, hit by cars, respiratory illness, covered in fleas and eyes crusted with infection.

and we loved them all. scrimped for antibiotics if the vet could be convinced to give it to us despite our being unable to bring them in. bought flea collars and ointments. we cared for them and fed them and petted them and played with them, brushed their fur and cleaned up their little faces, put ice in their water in hot summer, rigged a heating lamp in their house in the winter.

and they died. horribly. that property is pocked with unmarked graves of kittens and cats.

all the best intentions, not enough resources, and it didn't matter anyways because the population went from three to almost twenty (at times, over thirty) in the blink of an eye.

they died and died and died. our hearts broke over and over again. the stress and anxiety wore us down like sandpaper. i think, by the end of it all, we managed to find less than 10 of them all homes, including batman the disabled kitten i found a home across the country through tumblr.

it was carnage and tragedy, frankly. and we were helpless.

it only ended because they started dying faster than they could be born, and because we finally caught the two remaining mom cats in traps and got them spayed.

the points about outdoor cats being invasive predators devastating to local wildlife populations is true and valid and important.

but i know cat people, and cat people who don't know better than to let cats outdoors. what matters to you is the cat itself, generally. the cat being happy and taken care of.

keeping cats outdoors, letting them outdoors, is not taking care of the cats. it's not protecting them. it's not giving them any happiness or invigoration that couldn't be provided to them as indoor-only pets with just a little research and effort.

they die. they get ill. they get hurt. they're at risk of predators, and cars, and disease, and carelessly cruel children and deliberately cruel adults. they're at risk of disappearing on you because someone else saw a cat outdoors and intervened to give it a better, safer life not in conflict with the local environment.

and if that offends and angers you that someone would just take a cat they saw roaming outdoors, even collared, and that it sounds like i'm endorsing that, i am, but not if you intervene and be that person yourself for your own cat.

if what matters to you is doing right by your cat because it's family and a living creature whose happiness and health and safety is important to you,

keep them indoors. not part time. always. exclusively.

edit: since apparently i need to clarify this, i'm saying cats should live inside, that they should not live outdoors, even part time. visiting the outdoors supervised on a leash or in an enclosed catio is not the same as even part-time living outside, and i am certainly not advocating against it.

#long post #cats #indoor cats #outdoor cats #keep your cats inside

[insert-game]

OnTrac delivery always is like. it’s out for delivery. no you’re not getting it until the very last minute of the day

#out for delivery to Me implies it’s in the last vehicle it will be in and is going to get delivered within the next few hours #but maybe i’m just impatient. #i’ve ordered 3 things 2 of which are furniture for the new apartment #and all three of them got delayed from the promised 2 day delivery #and i’m okay with waiting for our nightstands but #my gf really needs her desk bc she’s making jewelry and has nowhere to work and it’s one of her main hobbies #she was using the dining table before and it was Not enough room. but now the new place has room for her to get a desk #the other thing that’s supposed to come Today is a flea comb #immediately after we moved in i saw a Flea on my dog so. i immediately bought flea medicine and gave it to her but it takes a few days for #like. all the fleas to die out once they hatch and shit #we’ve never had a flea problem before. but i think there’s more Nature around this apartment so more Creatures #it’s not a lot of fleas and it’s been manageable and they are Dying but #i want the comb so i can get rid of as many as i can. i really hate bugs #and i don’t want my dog to be itchy :(

[jakescakeislateforourdate]

Kaz Brekker and His Stupid Nicknames

In attempts to show you some love, kaz reverts to the most boyish and juvenile confession he can manage: name calling.

Idiot

Kaz has no idea what he’s doing. This feeling that you give him is bad. It’s weakness. So he tries to kill by convincing himself that you are nothing. He calls you idiot or imbecile right and left, hoping his brain will understand that you’re of no use to him.

But that’s not true because he thinks you’re brilliant.

Most commonly he uses it on heists. You save his sorry hide and because the phrase “thank you” does not exist in his vocabulary he simply says

“Try not to die, idiot! Don’t wanna drag your corpse outta here.”

Kaz thinks he’s slick. Hiding his silly little crush like this. He’s being a jerk and belittling you. No one would glance twice because he was just being classic Dirtyhands.

Wrong

Nina notices first. It reminds her of the young grisha boys who don’t know how to flatter a girl so they simply yank on fistfuls of hair or scream obscenities.

She thinks it’s stupidly adorable; making jabs at Kaz that he deflects easily. But she knows. She sees it clear as day.

Pest

Flea is a bit too mean but pest implies enough how irritable you make him. It implies that you’re swarming his thoughts and plaguing his dreams.

“You’re such a pest!”

You’re not. You’re anything but. From your stupid face that makes his heart skip a beat every time he sees you to the stupid things you say the awaken butterflies in his stomach. So irritating. So dumb.

Inej discovers next. She notices how Kaz can’t keep his eyes off of you. She notices how his lips twitch every time he calls you a name, like he meant to say something else entirely. She finally picks up on Nina’s jokes. They whisper to each other when Nina feels his heart beat faster.

Dummy

He’s got it down bad.

This term is affectionate. Less cruel than idiot. More teasing. Kaz knows that you know that he believes you to be fantastic. Why else would he keep you around? Why keep sending you on jobs? Why keep you right by his side at all times?

“Right here next to me, dummy.”

He doesn’t proclaim it so loudly anymore. He doesn’t need all of Ketterdam to think he’s parading around a so called idiot crow. It’s for you and only you.

Which is why the ever observant Wylan Van Eck finds out next. He watches Kaz mumble under his breath when he calls you dummy. It reminds Wylan of how Jesper flirts.

Wylan smiles to himself when he ponders the moments he glimpses. Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, a secret softie.

“Don’t want the dummy to get hurt now do we?”

It’s like a romance novel playing out right before Wylan’s eyes. And while he doesn’t make jokes, he chuckles whenever Nina says something witty that makes Kaz’s eye twitch.

Darling

The first time Kaz calls you this it’s a complete accident. He was just minding his own business filling out some paperwork and trying to get you out of his head. You come into his office needing to ask him a few questions about the upcoming heist when

BAM!

“What do you need, darlin’?”

You freeze and moments go by as it sinks in. Kaz is horrified. As it dawns on him his ears and cheeks go cherry red. It was so casual. So easy to say.

You blink at each other and you smile.

“Call people that often?” You’re so bright.

Kaz glowers and lowers his gaze, shaking his head.

“Scram.”

He flicks his hand toward the door and picks his pen back up.

“Not until you answer me.”

So bold of you. Kaz takes a deep breath and rocks back in his chair. This is a weakness. He should stamp it out. But one glance your hopeful face and he’s caving.

“Only you. Now scram, darling!”

This would be when Jesper notices. He overhears Kaz say it just once and that’s all it takes. Kaz calling someone darling. So sweet and sentimental there’s no possible way it’s true.

But when Jesper looks around and Nina and Inej and Wylan giggling and teasing, the pieces fall into place.

Oh

Oh it’s so cute

So fueling to Jesper’s teasing.

Jesper likes to push Kaz by flirting with you. He just wants to watch Kaz marinate in his childish anger and fess up about what’s going on. The only person who doesn’t know is Matthias if Nina hasn’t spoiled it.

Angel

Oh how the hearts swoon. Kaz finally weak in both knees. This name is used whenever you’re about to do something dangerous or during reunions.

Kaz can’t clutch you in his arms like he wants to. Can’t kiss you and drown you in affection like he craves. So he puts it all into one little word and hopes you get it.

“Be safe my angel.” Or “Glad you’re alive, angel.”

He used it pretty sparingly. There’s not many moments where you’re apart anymore so it’s a rare word.

It’s almost a little to cheesy and cliche for him but he uses it regardless because he likes to see you beam.

This is when the team recognizes it as a whole. Including Matthias who was clueless up until he witnessed it first hand.

Dirtyhands soft in the heart.

Last but certainly not least

Honey

This is code for Kaz wanting a domestic moment. Quiet time in the Slat while he helps you clean up after dinner or iron out his button-up shirts.

This is most likely when Kaz would show physical affection.

His gloved hands on your hips as he whispers in your ear,

“Honey, I love you.”

He only says it when he knows no one will hear. It is only for your ears. Only for you to know. Because this word is a dream.

It’s symbolic of the life Kaz wants to give you. Security. Safety. He wants an honest life with you. One you can be proud of. He’d really like to marry you and stay with you forever.

He wraps you in his arms, guarded by the sleeves of his shirt.

It’s hope for the chance at touching without the armor.

He spins you around and kisses your lips. Soft and sweet and slow.

Honey honey honey

It’s his favorite. No other name could compare. Not idiot, not pest, not dummy, not angel or even darling.

Something about the promise of a future warms him and suddenly his weakness doesn’t seem so bad any longer.

Honorable mentions: sweetheart, love, doll, sweet pea, investment

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker #shadow and bone #six of crows #crooked kingdom #kaz x reader #yourfellowfandomfiend

[stevie-petey]

we don't talk about it (we don't have the time)

﹂ season one of “come home”

being dustin henderson's older sister and jonathan byers' best friend is usually an uneventful affair, but when will byers goes missing and a girl with a shaved head claims she has super powers, your duties as a sister and a best friend become a lot more complicated. (it also makes your feelings suddenly complicated, which you're choosing to ignore). (and steve harrington definitely isn't helping). (as usual).

episode one: the vanishing of will byers - jonathan smuggles you free food in exchange for friendship, will goes missing the one time you listen to jonathan, hopper doesn't really like you, and steve harrington almost hits you with his car as you're sobbing like a damn baby (in a cool way).

episode two: the weirdo on maple street - you use your limited psych knowledge to help a bald girl, you force jonathan to accept $20 and he's later an ass to you, steve doesn't know what a "missing" poster looks like, and it's really hard being a single mother to now four kids.

episode three: holly, jolly - you and jonathan talk it out and things are better (spoiler alert: they aren't), you somehow end up agreeing with steve harrington ?? then you have a minor breakdown in front of the kids and once again fail to prevent them from experiencing more trauma.

episode four: the body - you basically have a "no babe don't cry over ur dead brother ur so sexy" moment with jonathan, hopper plays mr love doctor (cute date idea: coffin shopping), and somehow nancy wheeler makes you realize that you're a horrible babysitter and an even bigger idiot. meanwhile: steve harrington is frustratingly charming.

episode five: the flea and the acrobat - you and dustin have a long overdue Sibling Moment, at will's funeral you and jonathan exchange information and surprise ! it's all horrible news ! nancy has awful timing and when you leave her alone with jonathan one damn time you and steve end up trauma bonded on her front porch #bffs.

episode six: the monster - so nancy and jonathan are a Thing now and you really just need a good nap, the three of you go shopping for monster hunting supplies (which honestly isn't the weirdest thing you've done this week), an old man sells you a sentimental knife, and steve kind of accidentally kidnaps you with a sexy black eye.

episode seven: the bathtub - your brother basically places himself on the fbi's most wanted list and el flips a van with her mind, now you have to create a giant salt tub because of course you do, nancy tries Talking About It but hasn't she read the title ? you don't have the time. sidenote: you've somehow become a steve defender during these trying times. typical. meanwhile: steve's inner thoughts are pathetic.

episode eight: the upside down - drinking game time ! take a shot every time jonathan tries ditching you or every time you almost die at the byers house, you find out that steve really is an athlete and tbh it's hot, but you know what's even hotter ? saving hawkins and reaching a tentative compromise with steve after he loans you $5 for snacks. after, jonathan makes a promise you really hope he can keep.

⌑ set between seasons 1 and 2

﹂ episode nine: the beginning - BONUS EPISODE TIME ! steve becomes bookstrorindary's favorite loyal costumer, jonathan buys you a bug for christmas, you freak out your poor coworker alex, and suddenly steve is really hot and you're feeling so many feelings (bad ! it's all bad !).

⌑ status: FINISHED

⌑ season one title based on this song x

⌑ blurbs set within "come home" can be found here x

⌑ “come home” season masterlist

*note: this is a part of my stranger things rewrite, “come home”, and other seasons can be found linked above :)

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic #stranger things rewrite #ch season one #wdtai masterlist #m's writing

[cutielights]

Hi! I loved your panther, tiger and fox s/o for the rottmnt boys, could you pls put an EXTRA fluffy calico cat with f/c dots or stripes on their body?

Sleep good! 🌟🐥

Yup, yup, sounds sweet enough to give me diabetes let’s do it

I used up the cat jokes in the panther one so imma need to find more stupid shit cats do.

Fox version Tiger version Panther version

Tw: none

Rise! Boys x Calico cat mutant! S/O

Leo

He thinks you are SO cute

Enjoys teasing you about it

“Who’s a good kitty?”

“I will end you.”

don’t say it don’t say it don’t say it don’t say it Tail Yank GOD DANG IT

“Hey you wanna go to the pool?”

“Oh my god Leo.”

Gave you catnip just to see what would happen

Bury’s his head inside the fluff after a hard day

Insists on getting to touch your ears

Raph

Picks you up like a teddy bear

He loves hearing you purr

Cuddles!

Fluffy cuddles!

Tackled you into being washed once

“Stay. Still. You. Could. Have. Fleas.”

“I. Would. Rather. Die.”

You looked like a large pompom afterwards

Enjoys tracing the patterns and spots on your fur

Loves that your cat agility lets you keep up

Donnie

Do NOT shed in his lab

We TALKED ABOUT THIS

Otherwise he loves you very much

Depending on how long the relationship has been going on he will bury his face in all that fluff

It’s just- so fluffy

Sensory heaven

“Hey, what you doing?”

*mysterious red dot appears on the ground*

“I must have it.”

“Fascinating.”

Mikey

I said this in the Panther one but “PSPSPSPSPS”

The-couple-that-doesn’t-like-water solidarity

You’re gon need a new ship name

That one seems kinda long

Enjoys the patterns on your fur

Thinks you’re an absolute masterpiece of Mother Nature

You tried helping him out with cooking once

“Oh I’m using cucumbers in t-“

“WHERE?”

“Uh-“

#rottmnt hc #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt headcanons #rottmnt #rottmnt x you #x reader #head canon #rise mikey x reader #donnie x reader #rise leo x reader #raph x reader #rise donnie x reader #rise raph x reader #rise donnie x you #rise mikey x you #rise leo x you #rise raph x you #mikey headcanon #donnie headcanons #leo headcannons #raph headcanons #raphael x reader #rise michelangelo x reader #rise leo headcannons #donnie x you #rise donatello x reader #rise rapheal x reader #leonardo x you #mikey x reader #michelangelo x reader

[starogeorgina]

Killer queen

Warnings: Incest, uncomfortable situation

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen × Reader

1.05

Letting out a deep sigh, you place your hands on your lower back, trying to relive some of the weight of the baby pushing down on your spine. With the size of your bump, you could easily be mistaken for having twins, although the maesters said it was only one baby and a lot of swelling.

After the meeting with the King’s Counsel was over, you and your grandsire headed towards your mother's quarters to have an unofficial meeting with the Green Counsel. The green’s council consisted of your mother, Ser Cristion, Aemond, the hand of the king, Aegon, and the lech Larys Strong. You went out of your way to keep Helaena out of the scheming and plotting; she was far too innocent to be involved.

Feeling your eyes burning into you, you finally sigh, “Yes, mother?”

Your mother pursed her lips and said, “That's a very interesting dress you chose to wear today.”

With your breasts swelling to twice what they normally would, you had decided to wear a gown that was designed for pregnant women; however, the one you’d chosen that morning had irked your mother. It was black with red roses sewn onto it on the bottom of the skirt, and the queen hated seeing her children wear house Targaryen colors. “It’s a gift from Lady Malia Lannister; she had it sent to the keep after finding out I’m with a child again. It would be rude not to wear it.”

“The princess is right, your grace,” Larys says before taking a sip from his cup of tea. “Small gestures, such as wearing gifts from other houses, are a reminder of who’s loyal to us.” The smile on Larys face sends shivers down your spine. There was something incredibly creepy about the clubfoot. He changes the conversation: “I hear Princess Rhaenyra has just delivered her second son, fathered by Prince Daemon.”

You roll your eyes; you have more pressing matters to discuss than your elder sister and your uncle. “Ser Cristion, is there any further word on who is behind the child fighting pits in Flea Bottom?”

“I’m afraid not, princess, but thanks to your connections we were able to locate one of the fighting pits, and it has since been destroyed.”

“Thank you, Ser Cristion,” you say sincerely.

“Is sending members of the King's Guards into Flea Bottom to knock down gambling pits really the best idea?” Larys asks.

You pull a face of disgust. “Gambling? The children are purposefully kept malnourished while their teeth and nails are sharpened for combat while sick spectators place their bets and cheer on to see which child will win or die.”

Your grandsire shifts the conversation to another issue, with Larys remaining quiet for some time. Shayla, who had now become one of your ladies in waiting, entered the room looking nervous. Sensing she was nervous, you excused yourself and stepped into the hallway to be greeted by one of the servants who watched the children while you attended meetings, holding onto your son's hand while gulping down. You take in Tré’s appearance and immediately burst into laughter; he was covered head to toe in mud.

You run your fingers through his silver locks, which had thick brown streaks of dirt and some greenery from what you assumed were bushes and flowers tangled in them. “You are filthy; what have you been doing?”

Tré giggles, “Me and Jaehaerys were pretending to be dragons.”

“You are dragons, my sweet.”

“The princes ran away from me, princess; I did try to stop them."

You cut her off with a soft laugh. “It’s quite alright, no harm done.” You lean down and lift Tré up, holding him above your bump. You kiss him on the cheek multiple times, making the young boy squeal in delight. “You sound like Breeze.”

“Your grace,” Shayla says, bowing.

You turn back around to see your mother looking at you with a somewhat amused expression on her face. “Ashara, your dress is filthy.”

“You don’t like it anyway,” you point out, earning a surprising smile from her. Although you and the queen hardly ever saw eye to eye, she was still your mother and loved her grandchildren greatly.

Soon as you walk back into her chamber, Aegon bursts into laughter, while Aemond’s jaw tenses, no doubt from watching you carry your son. You could only imagine your husband's reaction when he learned the princes managed to run off.

You sit back down to resume the meeting, which was almost over, with your son sitting on your lap. You kiss Tré’s cheek as he falls asleep in your arms. You remember once telling Aemond you never wanted children because you didn’t think you’d be capable of loving them. Oh, how wrong you were. Tré was your whole world, and you knew you’d love the next baby just as much.

—

Sitting in the garden, you gently rub your swollen stomach while watching as Aemond plays with your son. Tré was crouching behind bushes, giggling, thinking he had successfully hidden from his father, but of course Aemond knew where he was.

“Princess,” Silas, one of the servants, approaches you with a tray in his hands. He carefully places the plate of pastries, grapes, and bread on the table before sitting the tea down. While doing this, he quietly says, “I heard you are trying to stop the fighting pits in Flea Bottom, and I think there’s something you should know.”

You motion for him to sit with you and say, “Please go on.”

Silas nervously glances at your husband, who was watching your interaction, and declines your invitation to join you. “I do not wish to cross a line, princess, but I’ve heard rumors regarding Prince Aegon.”

Your mouth goes dry. “What is it you’ve heard?”

“That there are children fighting in pits with Targaryen features, and that they have been fathered by the king's eldest son.”

Silas couldn’t have been older than six and ten; he had an innocence around him that you wanted to protect. You place your hand on top of his and say, “Thank you; you did the right thing by telling me.”

“Please don’t tell anyone I told you, princess. I don’t want to get in trouble.”

“You’d risk getting into trouble by telling me, why?”

He shrugs. “You’ve always been very kind to me.”

“I’ll do my best to keep you safe, sir,” you smile.

He smiles back at you until Aemond stands behind you with your son in his arms and a murderous look on his face. Silas quickly bows his head and says, “My prince.”

You feel bad watching the young boy fumble over his feet to get away. You pout at Aemond as he sits down across from you and says, “You don’t need to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Scare the young servants.” You take a handful of grapes and begin cutting them into pieces. “The ones who approach me are harmless.”

Aemond smiles, something that he hardly ever does in front of others. “Motherhood has softened you, my love; you are far too trusting.”

You push the plate of cut-up grapes in front of Tré and say, “Perhaps, but it’s also common knowledge what will happen to anyone who crosses the wife of the rider of the largest dragon living.”

“Vhagar!” Tré squeals excitedly, making you chuckle.

“Hmm.” Aemond leans forward and brushes hair behind your ear. “Regardless, you are my wife, and I want to keep you safe.”

“Ñuha nēdenka zaldrīzes.”

—

You clench your teeth as you dip your feet into the basin that has been placed in front of you. The maester had added a mixture of oils that were meant to help ease the pain of how swollen and painful your feet had become during your pregnancy. You were supposed to be meeting your grandsire to discuss the latest news of Aegon’s bastards, but you were in far too much pain to walk further than your own bedchambers.

“Princess, Lord Strong is here to see you.”

You frown. “I’m improperly dressed. Tell Lord Strong, I’m feeling unwell and will see him tomorrow.”

It was only midday, but you had decided to resign in your chambers for the rest of the afternoon due to feeling so uncomfortable. Aegon and Helaena had gone dragon riding, while Aemond had gone to sit in with Tré for the remainder of his lessons, giving you much needed time alone. Even though this pregnancy was better than your first, it was still exhausting.

Closing your eyes, you lean your head back in the chair and try to doze off, but the sound of a cane hitting the cobblestones alters your appearance. What didn’t he understand about your request? You scowl at hearing him dismiss your lady-in-waiting, who is frantically telling him to wait. You reach for the dressing gown that is hanging on the side of the chair you are sitting in and quickly put it on to keep your modesty.

“I believe you were asked to leave.”

A look of shock crosses his features. “I do apologize; I have obviously misunderstood.”

Your glaze burns into the Lord as he sits down across from you. Seeing him limp, you feel obligated to allow him to sit for a moment. You nod for one of the servants to move the objects on the chair away so he can sit down comfortably. “What is it you want, Lord Strong?”

“For us to be friends, Ashara.”

Anger stirs within you. It wasn’t that he addressed you by your name; it was the arrogance that laced his voice that irked you. “Do not forget I am a Targaryen princess; next time you address me as any less, I will have your tongue removed.”

“Such a spirited princess,” he nods his head, looking amused. “I will do well to remember my place next time.”

When one of your ladies-in-waiting approaches you with a towel in her hands, you lift your feet from the basin to allow her to dry them. You notice Lary's eyes creepily glued to your feet, and the way he repositions himself on the chair makes you feel uncomfortable.

He clears his throat. “I am good companions with the queen; I just thought I’d offer my services to you.”

“I will keep that in mind, but I must ask that you please leave, as I’m very tired.”

“Of course, growing a child is a tiresome job.”

You avert your eyes as he slowly walks by you, with what appears to be a bulge in his pants. A sickening feeling builds inside you. Whatever had just transpired left a sour taste in your mouth and left you feeling uncomfortable in a place you’ve always felt safe.

Ñuha nēdenka zaldrīzes - My fierce dragon

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #Aemond Targaryen #aemond targaryen x you #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon x reader #killer queen #aemond targaryen/you #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond targaryen/reader

[spacebarbarianweird]

I Want to See the Sea of Fallen Stars

Summary: The events of the game through the eyes of Tiriel and Astarion

Pairing: Astarion x OC (Tiriel)

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

It hurts.

It always does.

His wrists are chained to the wall. Astarion’s bones are broken, and his flesh is flayed. From the little he can see through the piercing pain, there is no skin left on his body. 

Slowly, it starts regenerating—if he were allowed to feed, it would have happened much sooner, but the master has decided to make Astarion dance on the verge of madness. Whenever the blissful insanity is ready to take away his reason and mind, Cazador gives his favorite spawn a droplet of blood squeezed from a flea. 

It’s never going to end, is it?

Two centuries. Astarion counted. It’s 1492 DR. The world has changed within those years but nothing ever changes in the vampiric mansion. It’s always the same.

Always.

There was a time when Astarion prayed. He prayed to the elven gods, the powerful Seladrine. He prayed to the human gods, merciful and accepting.

Gods never hear. They especially don't hear the undead. Once Astarion was put into his grave, the gods forgot about him.

There was a time when Astarion hoped a savior would come. Faerun is the land of adventurers and heroes! How come none of them wants to challenge a vampire lord? 

There was a time when Astarion hoped there was a hero to get him out of this. Whatever his sins were, he paid for them fully. Why does he keep being tortured, raped, humiliated, beaten? 

He can’t even find peace in his sleep like other spawns! He is doomed to get into reverie and relive these tortures.

Over and over again.

Cazador orders Gaudey to unchain Astarion and he falls onto the dirty stone floor, shivering and weeping.

Cazador laughs and Astarion wishes for a final death.

**

“More ale!” Tiriel the Barbarian bellows. The people in the tavern cheer—and her pain sinks to the bottom of the mug.

By the time the tavern closes, Tiriel the Barbarian is completely wasted.

Well, such is her life. And it will always be, until she meets a monster who will finish her.

She just doesn’t belong.

She isn't human. Her family tried to kill her and she hopes they all die of some fever. She isn’t an elf—she learned it the hard way by encountering hostility from the Tel’Quessira. The groups of adventurers see her only as a means to an end. Someone who can do the dirty and dangerous job,the one who rushes first into a fight. 

People like her waste their money on prostitutes, paying for the bits of warmth they are deprived of. But the very thought of undressing in front of a stranger makes her sick.

Thirty-six-year-old, Tiriel bitterly thinks. No home. No friends. No purpose. It’s probably her fault because she has never let anyone close—the last man who approached her ended up with a broken skull.

She never fits in. And she never will.

Tiriel needs more ale to numb those thoughts.

And she needs another job.

Her innate wanderlust calls upon her, making the very idea of staying in a comfy inn sickening.

The notice board is pathetically empty. Seems like other adventurers have taken everything decent.

“Looking for a job?” a halfling waitress calls her out. 

“Yes. Do you have any?”

“My asshole of a cousin needs a fighter to accompany his caravan to Westgate. If you aren’t afraid of spending half a year on the road, he will pay you decently.”

“Is it on the shores of the Sea of Fallen Stars?” Tiriel asks to draw a map in her mind. It’s indeed far away from that wretched town—but gods! She will finally see the sea! Not a lake, not a river! The sea!

“Indeed. So, do you agree or not?”

“Yes! Of course, I agree! This ax is hungry for blood! When are we leaving?”

“In the morning. Well, I have something more for you—and if I were you, I would choose this,” the halfling leans on the bar table. “I have a friend in Baldur’s Gate,he owns a ship that traverses along the Sword Coast. It will take you three weeks to get there—just tell him I sent you, and he will hire you. Trust me, woman, six months in the company of my asshead of a cousin aren’t worth it. And adventurers can make a fortune in Baldur’s Gate.”

“And what if your friend doesn’t hire me? Or there is no friend?”

“Then you will have another rewarding job in the blink of an eye. And you can always return here and trash my tavern. Anyway the choice is yours.”

Tiriel grins.

“Well, the night is young! Bring me more ale!”

**

The mindflayer pod lets Astarion go and he collapses on a floor that resembles living flesh.

The master will torment him for his disappearance. He must get back, he must return!

Astarion presses his legs to the chest.

Is it a fucking spelljammer he is inside? The astral ships from the Wildspace? Aren't they just a story? A work of fiction?

He manages to stand up. He sees people locked in the capsules being slowly turned into disgusting mindflayers. 

He needs to get out of here. Now!

Astarion looks out - he can't be the only one to be “not transformed”. There must be others. 

“FUCK!”

A loud female voice echoes through the ship. 

“FUCK! I KNEW I SHOULD HAVE GONE TO WESTGATE! BUT NO, I NEEDED TO GO TO THAT WRETCHED CITY!”

Astarion carefully looks behind the corner. He doesn’t want to show himself yet.

It’s a half-elven woman with a two-handed ax. She holds it with a very clear message on her face, “I will turn you inside out if you dare to approach me.”

She is beautiful.

This thought invades Astarion’s thoughts. He never paid too much attention to the people he wanted to seduce. And he is sure he slept with much more gorgeous females.

But this one…

This one is a vision.

**

Tiriel could have easily gotten up from the ground but, for some reason, she doesn’t want to. The man who holds a dagger at her is weirdly handsome and she is sure she’s never met anyone like him.

Astarion.

Such a beautiful name.

And he doesn't resemble those elves she’s met before. There is sadness in his eyes, fear, desperation. He looks like a person who has been imprisoned for years and forgotten anything but how to survive.

And these curls of his.They must be so soft.

Tiriel has never felt anything like this—but she thinks she is in love.

**

Astarion feels like a bloody fool.

All his thoughts are occupied with Tiriel. How she laughs, how she talks. Whenever he closes his eyes he relives that night in the clearance,her skin, her warmth, her freckles, her moans. He’s had thousands of victims and he performed the same things over and over again

But he never felt so good, so blissful. He didn't even leave her side when she fell asleep.

She isn’t afraid of him. She doesn’t make him feel weak.

Her name sounds like a prayer.

Tiriel.

Tiriel.

Her name howls with the winds of Tunlan and jingles like fey bells. There is something delicate in it and something wild at the same time. He rolls her name on his tongue and jumps on his feet any time Tiriel wants to talk to him

She always talks to him first. She always listens. He…

He wants to be hers.

**

Tiriel is angry. Gods, she knows the cruelties of this world. She has heard of horrors that might happen…

But this…

This is different.

This is terrible.

This is unfair.

Astarion sits beside her, his torso naked. The symbols in Infernal carved in his skin make him look vulnerable and Tiriel has to suppress the desire to hug him from behind.

Now she understands why he is so bitter, so cruel, so distant. He’s been a slave for two hundred years and the world is hardly the same it was when he was alive. 

“I will help you deal with your master,” Tiriel says. 

Astarion squints his eyes. He is looking for a catch, she understands. The reward she wants.

“I will help you,” she repeats. “I promise”

**

Astarion doesn’t understand what he feels. 

Sadness? Anger? Pity? 

Tiriel lies on her back, pressing a bandage to a fresh bite mark. She lets him feed on her almost daily even though it affects her battle skills. 

He was abused as an adult and he suspects he wasn’t a good person back when he was mortal, but Tiriel was beaten and neglected as a child.

Astarion bends over and looks at Tiriel’s right ear—there is a thin line of a scar left by her drunk stepfather, a pathetic chieftain who never forgave his wife’s unfaithfulness and lashed it all on his “bastard daughter”.

“Astarion.”

“Hm?”

“Could you stay with me tonight?”

Her voice is weak, she is already half-asleep. His body reacts faster than his mind—to stay with her, with the warmth of her body! It sounds like heaven.

But what if she wants something in return?

What if? Hells, he can think about it tomorrow.

He curls at her side, putting his head on her chest.

Thump-thump-thump

Her heart is close; he can mistake its beats for his own.

**

Tiriel has to make an effort not to laugh. Did he really think he managed to fool her? Did he really think she didn’t know what he was doing? And he thinks she’s going to be angry?

Gods, and she thought he was smart!

“I care about you,” she finally says. “Deeply.”

“Really?”

This is the voice of a condemned person who has been pardoned.

**

Astarion is numb. There is a hollow emptiness inside him. He thought he would rejoice once his master was dead. He thought it would compensate for all those years of horror and misery.

But there is nothing but darkness.

Astarion hears steps. Tiriel approaches but doesn’t touch him. Years later, he will be grateful for that.

She limps a bit—her face is covered in blood and bruises. Tiriel is exhausted and visibly wounded. He isn’t sure, but it appears she was in rage for the whole fight and it completely drained her.

Tiriel approaches the vampire lord’s body and contemplates for a bit.

And then smashed his ribcage with her boot. The disgusting sound of broken bones echoes through the chambers.

Tiriel spits on Cazador’s face and then picks up Astarion’s shirt from the floor.

Without saying anything, she helps him dress. Then she takes his hand and doesn't let him go till they reach the inn.

There, he collapses on the bed and curls in a fetal position. 

“I am going to be downstairs,” Tiriel says, covering him with a blanket. “Rest.”

“Tiriel.”

“What is it, love?”

“Thank you,” he barely manages to spell it out.

But for what? For saving him in the dungeons? For believing in him? 

For loving him?

Astarion doesn’t know.

Tiriel kisses his forehead as if he were a little child and leaves him alone with his thoughts.

**

Tiriel is scared.

It’s been too much. She was never fit to fight cultists, monsters, and dragons… and yet now she has to fight the mindflayers.

A kick in the stomach and she falls on the surface of the brain. She feels pain even through the armor and she knows there is an acid burn on her skin. The tadpole suppresses it, but it still hurts.

“Don’t you dare die!” Astarion helps her to stand up. “We will win this fight, you hear me?!”

She nods. She can barely hear anything because of the pain. Her ears ring, her throat burns—her rage… She can’t do it anymore. She is too exhausted. Whatever the source of her abilities is, it's been drained.

“Tiriel!” Astarion still holds her. “Tiriel, you’ve promised. We are going to see the Sea of Fallen Stars together. Remember?”

The Sea of Fallen Stars… yes… that faraway western waters known for pirates and treasures… and ancient cities… and forgotten islands…

“Yes… we are going to see the Sea of Fallen stars.”

***

The last rays of the sun wash the ground and then the world is taken by darkness. The distant lights of Westgate shine to the east.

The sea looks like a night sky reflecting stars and living up to its name.

Tiriel submerges herself in the salt water. Before she would never dare to swim naked—even though she is capable of protecting herself without armor and weapons, she still never felt safe enough.

Astarion approaches the water's edge but doesn’t dare to proceed.

“Come on! Those aren't running waters! They can’t harm you!”

He hesitates but Tiriel already makes him get into the water despite his protests. Then she jumps on him, wrapping her hands and legs around his torso and forcing him to put his palms under her bottom.

It’s been one year and a half since she woke up in that pod. One year and a half since she met him—her star-crossed love Tiriel is sure she was intended to meet.

She kisses him and Astarion answers with the same tenderness and love.

“I love you,” he mutters and kisses her neck.

“I love you, too, my heart,” Tiriel caresses his curls and smiles.

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @queenofthespacesquids

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion romance #bg3 #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tav #named tav #baldur's gate tav #baldur's gate iii #astarion established relationship #barbarian tav #half elf tav #hurt/comfort #tiriel of the sunset mountains #tiriel the barbarian #astarion x tiriel #oc tav: tiriel #astarion ancunin #astarion baldurs gate #astarion baldurs gate 3 #astarion brainrot #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion fluff #astarion fanfiction #astarion imagine #baldurs gate 3 astarion #astarion fics

[shesjustanothergeek]

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Twenty-Eight

Masterlist of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: From here on out, the story deviates from the HOTD timeline. Viserys didn't die the night of the dinner, and Rhaenyra never came on dragonback like she said she would. The next few chapters take place during months leading up to Viserys' death in the winter, and they'll be a wild ride, so buckle up, besties!

Chapter Warnings: white knight Arryk, toxic relationship, we're both mentally ill.

The countless drinks of wine swirled through your head, your body exhausted from the whirlwind of events from the day prior, but you couldn't turn your mind off. Everything felt different. An air of heaviness settled over your bones, disconnecting you from the world.

The Keep, its massive walls ever-encompassing, closed you inside its pale redstone, making it incapable of finding peace in the hours of the ghost. The blankets of your bed were too heavy, thick, and suffocating as your lungs struggled to breathe. It felt as if you were not in your body, your spirit torn away from its core, crushed by the future that loomed over you.

You couldn't stand another moment locked inside this castle, haunted by things you have done and things that have yet to be. Throwing the covers off your dampened limbs, you padded over to your winter boots, shoving your bare feet into the tight fur and throwing a cloak on. You needed air. You needed to be outside, to feel the realm between your toes and ground yourself within it.

Ser Arryk stood steadfast at your door as you swung it open, causing the knight to jump. After your heated argument, you still hadn't spoken more than brief sentences with the White Cloak. He remained dutiful throughout the limbo, a sworn protector no matter the circumstances. You were terrible towards him, a man who was loyal no matter the mistreatment he faced. Arryk did not deserve it.

Inhaling a shaky breath, you stood before the knight, your gaze downcast. "Ser Cargyll. I..." You started, the words becoming trapped in your throat like you were trapped within your heavy blankets. "I apologize for my behavior this past fortnight. You are a good and honorable man, and," your voice faltered again, looking up into the pools of sapphire that stared down at you. "And I extend my deepest, most profound apology for my actions. You do not deserve my ire."

"Princess, you needn't apologize. 'Tis my duty to serve Your Grace without fault."

"No, Ser," you quickly interrupted, stopping any further words from escaping his mouth with the grab of his bicep. "Do not deflect my apology with your honor. You are entitled to be angry. You are entitled to make me feel the way I made you."

"My Lady," Arryk spoke, his gaze serious as he stared into yours. "I shall deal with all your wrath with a stiff lip for I know you are a true person. You have never forgotten your roots, the people who made you. Your kindness for those around you is more admirable than anything I could do within my life."

Before he could continue, your body flushed with his, your warm cheek cooling against the metal of his breastplate. "Cease this. You are everything and more. Even when I have been such an imbecile you continue to hold me above you." You released him from your hold, hands sliding to his forearms instead. "We are equaled despite what statuses have been put upon us."

Ser Arryk was at a loss. His mouth parted in shock as he processed your words. "I meant what I said all those moons ago. You are my friend, my ally, and I wish for you to be by my side," the knight sucked in a breath, his digits gripping your elbows as he took a step closer, "as my protector for as long as you will have me."

Arryk felt himself deflate, though not enough for you to notice, ignoring whatever feeling of hope for the future he had with a nod of his helmeted head.

It wasn't very reasonable of him to have hope you would love him the way he does you. You were a princess, meant to wed Lords and high-ranking knights who could provide lands and gold.

Arryk supposed it was better this way, even if it felt like a blow to the chest. What would the future look like for the two of you? He couldn't very well go into hiding. That was dishonorable. He couldn't expect you to leave your comfortable status to live in a village in the Riverlands. If you were found, Arryk would be charged with treason against the King and his family and sentenced to death, recalling the last time someone attempted to whisk you away for love.

Ser Cargyll's affections for you would never be. Forever tucked away close to his heart in secret, no matter how much it pained him.

His movements were rigid and strained under the weight of his armor and something else he refused to name as he kneeled.

"I swear to ward you, Princess," the knight declared, unsheathing his sword with upturned palms, placing it in yours, "with all my strength, and give my blood for yours. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall guard your secrets, obey your commands, ride at your side, and defend your name and honor. I shall always do more than what is expected, never less. I shall never flinch at any task or hardship."

Arryk inhaled a staggering breath, his gaze unwavering and voice firm. "I shall be loyal and serve you from this breath until my last, Princess."

The sword was heavy within your grip, the kingsguardmen's words burning into the metal. You had never experienced such devotion before, his oath etching into your heart and soul. Your limbs knew what to do before your mind as you brought the longsword to Ser Arryk's shoulders.

"From this day until your death, I accept your fealty and service." The blade's tip scratched on the stone floor as you lowered it, and the chestnut-haired man before you bowed his head. "Rise, Ser Arryk Cargyll, and serve your Princess."

He obeyed your command, reaching his full height as a smile graced your lips. Returning the weapon, your sworn shield's fist wrapped around your own, his touch calloused and relaxed before you slipped it away.

"I know what the future holds is unsure, but I am certain with you by my side, Ser Cargyll, we can brave it together." You stood on the balls of your feet, your hands wrapping around the back of Arryk's head as you placed a chaste kiss on his helmet.

The deed was done, and though you felt light, the world still called you, vibrating through the soles of your fur boots and into your chest.

"My first command of you, Ser, is to rest. You have served me well all this time and deserve the rest of the night to yourself." His eyes flickered from your head to your toes, examining your attire and what you were planning. "I can hear your questions," you jested teasingly. "I'm going to the Godswood, my protector. The Gods will watch over me.

Arryk returned the smile, though not as bright, bowing before he bid you goodnight and readied to his quarters. You were surprised that he did not protest as usual, never ceasing in his endless allegiance but keeping it hidden from his view as you both departed.

***

Beneath the Weirwood, the crimson leaves whispered above. You found peace, connected with one and nature. The late winter breeze chilled your feet as you leaned against the blanched trunk, your boots discarded next to you neatly. Even though you were still within the castle's parameters, the world felt vast. Stars shimmered endlessly in the midnight sky, the clouds minimal as you stared at the waning crescent.

It would be spring in a moon's time, the air cool instead of biting, buds sprouting, and insects emerging. Helaena loved the season for that very reason. She doesn't do well cooped inside, tucked away from what she enjoys most. The Princess had her children, and one could argue that should be enough for a mother, but those who say such things do not understand the complexity of a woman's heart-- a woman's desire to be human.

The grass was comforting between your toes despite the lifelessness of it poking at your skin. This was what you needed. Just a moment alone. A moment to think without the crushing weight of the unknown squeezing at your lungs.

"I'm sorry."

The words caused you to jump, your serenity forgotten as your hand immediately slid to your ankle, only to find your dagger long discarded for sleep.

"I'm sorry for what I did, for what I did to your kin," the drunk Prince spoke, a jug of only one thing looped around his finger. "They were only trying to protect you. I would have done the same thing if someone tried to take you away from me. I would burn villages to keep you with me."

"What were their names?" you countered, stopping Aegon from wherever this drunken ramble was going. He gaped at you, confused, his eyes like amethyst sparkling in the night. "You don't even know who you're apologizing for." You turned away with a sneer and rose to your feet before you were shoved down with desperate, grabbing hands.

"Please, I beg of you, my love," Aegon sniveled on his knees as his gaze became glass, the jug of alcohol forgotten. "Cease this torment!"

"Torment?" you scoffed, tilting your face to the sky. "You believe you are being tormented? You? The man who sent my mother's only surviving family to the executioners block?" Your laugh was cold, devoid of the usual warmth it rang with as you spoke. "You know nothing of torment."

"I did not know what would happen to them. I-I only wanted you to stay with me!" Tears flowed freely down the Prince's cheeks, the streaks shining in the moonlight.

"You did not know that the attempted kidnapping of a royal person would be punishable by death?" Rolling your eyes, you stood, Aegon wrapping himself around your ankles. "You are a craven as well as a liar."

"No. Please. Please, don't call me that," he begged, his voice reedy.

You ignored the aching feeling in your heart at his hunched form, looking everywhere but. Kicking your legs from his grip, you stormed away with a growl, done with whatever he had to say. No words Aegon could speak would change the past. Nothing could bring Lyra and Sara back.

"No! Please, come back to me!" the Prince cried, his voice raw as his hands and knees dug into the dead blades of grass.

"I love you!"

The confession stopped you in your tracks, knees becoming weak and eyes hot. You couldn't think, suddenly, the Godswood not feeling as free.

Aegon observed how you stood, shoulders hunched and tight as your breathing became ragged, ingraining every detail and burning it into his mind forever.

"I love you," he repeated, his voice still hoarse but less desperate as he crawled closer. "I love you."

Your nose began to itch, lashes fluttering as words escaped you. Your body refused to turn and face the Prince. It was as if your heart had been torn from your chest, your bosom ripped open, and your ribs dripping with the viscous liquid of your blood, saturating the dirt below. You felt Aegon before you saw him, finding his place once more at your feet as he wrapped his arms around your legs, burying his tear-stained face into your cloak.

It was instinctual as your hand gravitated towards his head, gently stroking the frizzy, silver waves. You were uncertain when you, too, began to cry, fat droplets of saltwater running down your cheeks and onto his crown.

"I-I-I can't-" you stuttered, unable to form words that matched the race of your thoughts.

"I love you," he murmured into your thigh, rubbing his wet nose into the woolen fabric.

"You... love me?" The words sounded foreign on your tongue. "You love... me?"

"Yes!" Aegon panted, his gaze earnest and piercing yours. "You are the blood in my veins. The very marrow in my body. I love the bones of you."

"You..." His hands traveled upwards, his digits digging into the plush flesh of your waist.

"I crave your mouth, your voice, your touch. Your breath nourishes me, feeds me, keeps my stomach full."

Your lips trembled, vision becoming blurred as you sank to the ground. He loved you? Aegon loved you? How could you have been so ignorant? He did what he believed to be the right choice in keeping you by his side. Is that different from what Lyra did? It was why she chose to sneak into the most heavily guarded castle in Westeros. Because she loved you, Aegon would have done the same if the Gods had flipped the coin. You understand that now. He did not knowingly and maliciously murder your kin. He hurt you because he loved you.

"I know what they say about me, that I'm a monster. But you will be my salvation. You will make me repent for my sins," Aegon confessed as he stood to his knees, a child desperately clinging to its mother. 

Your hands cupped his cheeks, thumbs brushing away the tears that leaked from his amethyst eyes. You knew in your heart that you could never forgive him for what his actions caused, and he understood, but had you not done the same, killed two men for simply following orders? You ripped them away from their families in such a gruesome way and defiled their deceased bodies in a manner that would send you to the Seven Hells.

You both committed vile actions and did awful things, yet there was love in them. Love for you. Love for Aegon. You both would burn for your sins but accept the punishment with your chin high and your hand in his. Fire and blood, even in death. 

Your stare flickered to his lips briefly before they were on yours, sharing a raw kiss of viscera. Tears and pain collided, moons of want and denial pouring into each other's mouths as your tongues danced to a melody of soft moans and grunts. His fingers tangled into your hair, gripping the roots roughly and causing your head to tilt with a gasp.

Your nose slotted against Aegon's, catching your breath, his body warming your skin. "I am the blood in your veins as you are mine," you sighed against him.

Pulling back, you brushed the stray strands of white from his face, tracing the structure as your digits gripped his jaw, having no desire to be without him, and devoured his lips in another demanding kiss. The Heart Tree hid your shadows; its pale bark and rustling leaves provided cover from all eyes except the Gods'. You could feel their stares, the whispers from above, though you could not register them over the sounds of bated breath, the shimmy of fabric as your cloak was strewn open.

Aegon's kisses soon became lower, creating splotches of cold to bloom in the brisk midnight air. They traveled to your jaw, neck, and clavicle, his hands not staying in one place long as you blindly unlaced the front of his soiled undershirt. The Prince shivered at the gentle touch of your fingertips against his hot flesh, voracious in their actions and seeking anything they could find.

A knot formed in your stomach, frayed threads of emotions tangled into a ball until they became one thing.

Lust.

The desire for Aegon, to touch, to feel his heartbeat inside you, to hear his idolatry as you become one. Nothing could stop you from taking what was yours, what you denied and hid from since the moment you were sent away.

You brought his hand to your chest, your nipples taught through the thin fabric of your nightdress. It couldn't wait. You couldn't stay as Aegon kneaded your flesh like dough, the skin molding perfectly under his fingers as you released a demure whine that caused you to flush with shame. His mouth soon found the other and latched onto the covered mound, laving it with his tongue and soaking through the fabric.

Your legs rubbed together at the sensation, squeezing the little nub at the apex of your thighs until pleasure bloomed and your mind became fuzzy.

"I want to be by your side always," Aegon mumbled against your breast, your nails scratching his scalp. "I want to suffocate you with my devotion."

You bobbed at his words, yet he couldn't see, using his weight to push you against the prickly grass. "Say it," the Prince commanded, his voice more firm than you had ever heard as he straddled your waist. He need not say what he meant. You already knew.

His fingers came to wrap around the column of your throat as your mind swirled, not squeezing, simply resting there in a necklace of implied dominance. "Fucking say it."

"I love you," you declared, your hand pressing into his to apply more force, conveying more than words ever could as his eyes dilated in the night. "I love you, my sweet boy. I have loved you longer than allowed, and I will not waste another moment of my time denying it any longer." Your voice came out breathlessly as his grip left your neck, deft fists unbuttoning your nightgown.

Aegon's hips twitched against you, a noiseless whimper spewing past his pouted lips as he revealed the intimate crevice between your breasts. He slotted himself between your legs as he pulled down the upper part of your garments, your skin pricking at the rush of cold winter air. He came to your breasts again, squeezing and pinching one while he suckled the other, your legs cinching around him. His cock was hard against your womanhood, languidly rubbing the covered member over your pulsing mound to relieve some of the ache. 

Aegon wanted to savor this feeling, the warmth of your clothed cunny against him, before he stretched it to fit his needs. He could sense your impatience, the avidity radiating off of you with each moan, but he did not care. The Prince was right where he wanted to be and had no intention of leaving. You would stay like this for hours for all he cared, reduced to a whining and wanting puddle of desire before him.

All the whores and drinks were naught compared to the intoxicating flavor of your skin, the harmonious song of your whimpers, and the unpracticed choreography of your movements. Aegon would gladly rid himself of all vices to have a taste of your slick again.

His fingers bunched the hem of your dress, slowly pulling it until it rested on your stomach. He was unsurprised as his digits traced over your lips, gliding smoothly over the flesh, dragging them up your torso until they reached your open mouth.

"Taste it, my love. Taste what my mere touch does to you." You obeyed Aegon's demand without a second thought, wrapping your tongue around his glistening tips. "You will be mine tonight and forever. We will never part from this day forward. Any man who seeks to strip us of this love will be met with dragon fire."

You whimpered, your brows pinching together as your heels dug into his lower back, pressing him impossibly closer. Aegon pulled from your mouth, his damped fingers directing your lips to his as he drank your combined essence.

He returned his hand to its rightful place, dragging it through your folds to create languid circles around your pearl. It was too much but not enough. The pressure was feather-light over the thin hood and heightened your senses as your hips twitched against his fist. Aegon chuckled nasally on your countenance, a proud grin stretching his mouth as his free hand came to your hair, pulling away.

"You shall deny me no more. I will take your maidenhead and ruin you for any man." Aegon's smile grew wider at your accepting gaze, welcoming him into your heart and body without the reservation he had grown accustomed to. His cock flushed with blood, further tenting his trousers.

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" You nodded your head aggressively, feeling his fingers slide from your nub down to your slit.

"I want no one other than you," your voice panted, a moan punching further words from your lungs as two digits entered you.

You had grown tighter from the lack of use, the stretch of his fingers catching you unaware and biting back a wince as you adjusted. Aegon's face contorted in satisfaction like he was the one being pleasured as he explored your walls. It had been some time since they welcomed him in, if they truly ever did, and he needed to ingrain the structure to memory once more. Feeling the rigid patch at the top, he barely brushed over it, deciding to pull his fingers out to the first knuckle, scissoring the thin veil of skin.

Your cunt would forever be his home, a place for him to forget duty and responsibility and just be. Aegon did not worry about the future or the past with you. He existed—a body in the vast world around him, not a Prince or an heir, simply yours.

Hips bucking against his teasing fingers, he finally pushed them in, a purposeful air to his movements as Aegon stroked the spot that made you keen. The knot in your belly began to loosen, his ministrations pulling the thread that would unwind the tangled mess.

You couldn't control your breathing, the way your lungs inhaled and exhaled rapidly, eyes shut. If Aegon continued on this course, you would peak at such an intensity that you feared you would faint. Yet you didn't stop him, instead moaning and whining soft mummers of his name as your thighs trembled.

The Prince's hand came back to your neglected breasts, his thumb and forefinger pinching at an erect bud as your back arched in pleasure.

It had been so long since you let yourself feel anything other than melancholy. You accepted that life would be filled with sorrow and anger, burden and responsibility. Joy was meant for others, not you, but Aegon showed you otherwise. He showed you many times that your existence could be happy and that bliss could coincide with obligation, though you were too thick to accept. You were unsure if that was something you would have achieved without him and felt a strong wave of gratitude for the man above you.

Your hand snaked its way down to Aegon's trousers, untying and undoing the buttons that confined him. You could hardly see his member in the darkness, shadowed by his body in the moonglow, but you could make out the drop of pearlescent liquid seeping onto the wrinkles of your palm. Wrapping your hand around his cock, he groaned, knees buckling and movements faltering as you swiped a thumb at his slit, collecting his seed to aid in the glide of your fist.

The Prince stifled noises of satisfaction with the grit of his teeth, redoubling his previous efforts inside your cunt. He wanted to prove to you, no, needed to prove to you, that he could be good, that he could take care of you the way you do him. You went limp momentarily, unable to do anything other than take it. Still, you steadied yourself, inhaling a calming breath as you refocused, bringing your other hand to pet his stones gently.

"Fuck," Aegon growled through a clenched jaw, his movements halting as he composed himself. "I need you. I need this pretty cunny now."

You opened your legs in acquiescence to welcome him inside, impatience getting the better of you.

He pulled the hem of your night dress higher, fully exposing your aching womanhood to his hungry gaze. Aegon looked ready to devour, his violet eyes black with want, a dragon with its sights set on a lamb. You laid pliant for the Prince while waiting for him to gather, appearing as if this was the first time he had seen you bare.

Finally, he moved, smoothing a hand across your thigh to wrap it around him, dragging his cock through your glistening folds. The sensation was unknown yet pleasant, his ruddy tip brushing against your pearl with a jolt through your body as he covered himself in your juices.

When you both could wait no longer, he pulled away, a clear string of your slick connecting your bodies as slid his cockhead to your entrance, his stare focused between your legs as he watched the flesh stretch around him. It hurt like your Septa and Mother told you, but it was not painful. You sent a silent thank you for Aegon's forethought to your comfort as the expending dulled, contained to the area as Aegon pushed past your maidenhead. You felt the tip nestle

inside you, barely kissing your sweet spot as your cunt fluttered around him in anticipation.

Your walls swelled around the Prince as he watched you swallow him, warm and inviting as he continued forward, causing a deep, long, drawn-out moan to force its way through your throat. Struggling to ground yourself to the intense pressure, your nails dug into the decaying blades of tan grass, dirt wedging underneath them.

"That's it, little one. Take it."

You could feel every centimeter of him, the slight curve to his cock, the full roundness of his shaft leisurely glide through you until he connected his pelvis with yours. Aegon dropped his head into your shoulder, a throaty groan dampening your skin as he waited for your muscles to unclench.

"It-It feels," you stammered, eyes rolling back at his heart beating inside. Your body had no choice but to accept him, encircling his cock in a vice-like grip nestled so closely to your womb. 

"I know, I know," Aegon cooed against you, placing a kiss where your shoulder became your neck as he drew his hips back unhurriedly.

"So full," you managed to finish desperately, head lulling atop his crown.

Your fingers carded through his hair as his cockhead caressed your spot, gradually finding a pace that did not overwhelm you or him. Aegon had no intentions of finishing yet, content to feel the pulsing of your walls surrounding him. His thumb began circling attention at your nub, his palm flat against your wirey curls as you mewled.

"Such a pretty cunny," the Prince whispered breathlessly into your throat, "so puffy and wet just for me." You nodded at his words, unable to form a verbal response as the stimulation overwhelmed you, your body sucking him inside. "So good for your sweet Prince, aren't you? Always so good for me."

His thrusts began to pick up in speed, still keeping the same mind-numbing intensity. Aegon was deep, buried so far inside you that you felt he was mere moments away from entering your belly.

No words could describe the magnitude of this sensation. It was far better than any pleasure he had given you, let alone yourself, causing your limbs to become like wet clay under his touch. Aegon could mold you in any way he saw fit, and you were helpless but to bend.

The Prince straightened his back, your eyes opening to see his cock going in and out of you, his free hand digging into your waist. The veins of his shaft shined in the silver light as a ring of white formed at the base, dark blonde hairs connecting to it. The image was so lewd, so primal, that it sent a wave of consuming arousal rolling through your body as you struggled to stifle a pitched moan.

All you could think, all you could feel was Aegon's thrusts pounding you into the packed dirt below. Nothing but him, his matted hair stuck to his forehead, his disheveled tunic, his digits digging into your flesh, his thumb playing with your pearl, his cock spearing its way through your spongey flesh. Your legs began to tremble, your hand flying to Aegon's as you attempted to ground yourself as he continued unrelentingly.

He felt your walls clench around him with each quick inhale you took, subconsciously milking him for his seed as he doubled over, bracing himself on his forearm. He knew you were close. With a few more thrusts of his hips and swirls of his thumb, you would be gushing around him, succumbing to your ancient desire. The thought overwhelmed him, tears pooling in his eyes as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

You felt the tiny droplets before you heard him, Aegon's voice wet as he whimpered on your skin. Immediately, your fingers went to his hair, carding through his waves in the manner you knew he enjoyed.

"I love you," he mewled into your ear, his breath hot. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

Turning your head to face him, you stared into his glassy eyes, yours mirroring his cheeks tinted pink. "My sweet boy. Such a good boy. I'm so proud. You're making me feel so good." Your voice failed into a moan as your abdomen clenched, trying your best to stave off the crescendo of satisfaction. "I'm going to peak. I'm going to come because of you, my love. My darling boy, I'm-"

Ecstasy ran through you, your hips jerking into the air as you came with a rush. Your fingers pulled at Aegon's roots as roaring waves of pleasure submerged you, causing him to move faster at an animalistic pace. It feels as if you've lost control, unable to do anything but thrash and accept his hash movements jolting your body. You are unsure if you want him to stop or continue to prolong this high. 

His thumb leaves your swollen and abused pearl so as not to overstimulate you, the hair on his navel sending shocks as it brushed with each punctuating thrust.

Aegon came soon after with a prolonged whine, his belly tightening and quivering as he haphazardly left his home, spilling the remnants of his seed on your lower stomach and curls. His cock twitched with each spurt as your mind focused, observing with fascination at the physical display of his passion. He panted heavily against your neck, beads of moisture collecting in the area and falling onto the dead blades of grass as you regained your senses. Your hands rested limply at the base of his scalp as the Prince mouthed at your skin, softening above you.

As the haze of lust left you and clarity returned, you slid your palms down his arms, caressing the skin as you directed him to where you needed him most. The Prince kissed you with unwavering devotion, lips unhurried, simply savoring the taste that was you.

"You are so beautiful." His breath tickled your skin as your cheeks became warm.

You giggle, affectionately petting Aegon's hair before he looks at you with the softest expression you've ever seen. It is as if his eyes are sparkling in the near-nonexistent light of the moon. You lean forward and ever so gently kiss his forehead, then nose, before you reach his pink lips. You peck them tenderly, pulling back for just a moment before you truly kiss him again. 

"I love you," he whispers so softly that you barely register it.

Your heart began to race. You almost struggled to find the words to reciprocate. But when you do, Aegon smiles and tucks himself into your side, his head resting on your steadying pulse.

***

The Queen watched as her very world was razed before her. Hidden within a red rock alcove, hands clutched to her beating heart; she listened to the sweet nothings of two lovers beneath the Weirwood.

She initially thought, as she traveled to her and Rhaenyra's favorite spot, hearing the distant moans of coupling, that Aegon was bedding another one of the serving girls. It had become more frequent. Just the day prior, she had walked into whatever he had drunkenly planned with one of Helaena's maids, stopping him with a slap before it could go further.

Had he no shame continuing to tarnish the already precarious nature of his legacy? Alicent had not raised him that way; years of lessons in the Sept with her and his Maesters turned him into no son of hers.

When she had requested your help leading up to Aegon's nameday, the Queen had no intention of you staying in King's Landing for as long as you have. She knew of his sinful affections for you but believed that once you fulfilled your duty, you would return to Dragonstone like Rhaenyra. She had naught the foresight to know how you had not become like her old friend but like the Rogue Prince. Cunning and manipulative, bending society's unspoken laws and rules to weasel yourself into a position on the Small Council. Asking for your help was one of her many regrets in a lifetime filled with them.

The quiet rustling of movements and fabric perked Alicent's ears, swiftly leaving the stone wall she pressed against to peer at you and her son.

He had moved from you, curled into your side as you stroked his hair in a nature that reminded her of her own. It was almost... sweet, the way you touched him, so gentle and kind and full of love that reminded her of the past.

The Queen wiped at the tears that stained her cheeks with her green dress sleeve, nails picking at her cuticles as she slowly retreated into the Red Keep in a manner a frightened doe would, her slippered feet carrying her to the rooms where another one of her regrets resided.

Masterlist of Series

I hope you enjoyed my little Olivia Cook interview reference in the middle XD.

I'm letting y'all know that future chapters will get a lot darker from now on. I won't spoil anything, but it involves Larys, Alicent, and the reader. Some content may be triggering, too, so if you have any concerns, please message me! I'll, of course, put trigger warnings above each chapter like I always do.

Thank you so much for reading!

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#house of the dragon #aegon the second #game of thrones #hotd fanfic #aegon ii #aegon targaryen ii #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x you #aegon x you #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon ii x you #aegon ii fic #hotd aegon #aegon ii smut #hotd #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfiction #tom glynn carney #his love fanfiction #his love fanfic

[cheeriecherrymain]

viktor is a cat, no i do not take criticism

you're right and you should say it.

The Likeness Of Men And Cats [Oneshot] Pairing: Viktor x Reader Rating: T Proofread: no beta we die like men Synopsis: You acquire a cat for the first time, and make a startling connection between it and your best friend, Viktor. Of course, you now have to test your theory: is the man you're crushing on actually several cats in a trenchcoat?

You’ve worked with Viktor for years. Six years, in fact, if you started all the way back in your first year at the academy.

You hadn’t had much interest in him, then. He was just another face in the crowded classroom, just another hand that got raised whenever your professors asked a question. He was smart, sure, but no more than some of the other people in your peer group.

Only once you’d been assigned to a group project did you really start getting to know him - and his less than stellar reputation around campus.

Your friends had all given you their condolences when you’d told them who you’d be working with for the semester, each of them sprouting off some story or another about an interaction they’d had with this Viktor.

And the more you got to know him, the more you realized their stories were true.

He was blunt, and logical to a fault. He refused to take breaks, for either his or your sake - even when you’d been about to pass out from sleep deprivation, he’d merely sighed and told you to sleep, then, if you need it. He frustrated you to no end.

And the more you got to know him, the more you realized your friends’ tales were…wrong.

You had hardly wanted bad blood between you and the man you were supposed to be working with for the whole semester, so you’d stuck it out. You’d been friendly, made yourself approachable, listened to him when he spoke and tried to include him in conversations.

And eventually he opened up.

Shared little jokes with you, brought little snacks to your study sessions so you wouldn’t go hungry. He showed a profound sense of compassion, the deeper your chats got, and a truly spectacular desire to change the world for the better.

It only made sense that you’d fall in love with him. Stupidly, terribly in love.

Even now, years after you’d graduated and moved onto your own projects, you still got heart palpitations whenever you spent time with him. Which happened to be most days, what with your work coinciding so closely. You’re certain that one of these days, the persistent thrum in your chest is simply going to stop, and you’re going to perish.

All because of him, and his stupid handsome face, and his stupid beautiful brain.

And it’s not like you hadn’t tried to tell him how you felt! You’re not the kind of person to just stand there stewing in your feelings for years without trying to resolve them!

He was just…not interested. You dropped hint after hint after hint, suggesting you spend time together to catch up, or maybe go out to lunch, or even dinner. You’d flirted with him so openly that even Jayce was cringing from your efforts!

But he never reciprocated.

Jayce had tried to comfort you one evening, after a particularly rough afternoon of thirsting after your best friend. He probably just doesn’t realize you’re trying to uhh…woo him, he’d said, in a vain attempt at calming your roiling emotions.

Didn’t realize. Right.

You’d been heartbroken for so long after being rejected by Viktor, lost in thought and unable to effectively work. Making excuse after excuse as to why you were ‘out of sorts’ and ‘not feeling well’.

That is…until now.

Three weeks ago, you’d…come into the possession of a soft, fuzzy creature. Or she’d come into possession of you? 

Either way, you’d found a cat. Skinny, mottled black and white, covered in fleas - she’d woken you up in the middle of a fateful night, screaming haplessly from your balcony where she’d gotten stuck. The moment you opened the sliding door, she’d run inside and had since refused to leave.

It had been hectic in the first couple days, particularly when you were trying to get her into the bath to remove all the built up dirt and dust from her fur. But you’d gotten her settled eventually, and since then she’s become a staple in your everyday routine.

It had taken you a while to really notice the patterns in her behavior, and to connect the dots.

Your cat behaved an awful lot like Viktor.

Rather, Viktor behaved an awful lot like a cat.

Bringing you little gifts for no apparent reason, typically in the form of snacks or trinkets. Preferring to sit in the same place as you and work separately, as opposed to actively engaging in conversation. Only showing you his softer side once he knew he could trust you. Even the few times he touched you, he did so in the most unusual way you’d ever seen - running a hand down your arm, or your back.

Not unlike a cat brushing up against its companion.

Looking back, knowing what you know now, you feel…stupid. For disregarding the man you loved so easily, for not clueing into his way of expressing love.

Because of course he loved you!

…probably.

Maybe.

…you need to test your theory.

—

The next day is when you begin Phase One of your plan.

You spent the entire night working on a detailed month-long set of experiments, subtle enough that Viktor wouldn’t think your actions were too weird or out of the blue. In the event that you were wrong in your hypothesis, you would be able to chalk your behaviour up to…

…to…

…wanting to switch things up a bit?

So, truthfully, you hadn’t really thought much about it at all. You’d actually fallen asleep with your face smashed into your desk around ten in the evening, and by the time your alarm had started blaring, you had to scramble to make sense of what little you’d scribbled down.

“Good afternoon, my brilliant men of science!” you cheer, skipping into the lab in your typical loud fashion, your arms full with a large cardboard box that had steam wafting from between its creases.

Viktor hums a quiet greeting from across the room, barely paying you any mind as he continues to focus on his current project.

Jayce, on the other hand, looks over the moment you set foot in the room, making a beeline towards you when he sees you struggling with your parcel.

“What’s in the box?” he wonders, watching over your shoulder as you set it out on one of the free desks, and begin to unfold the flaps.

“Lunch!” you reply, finally revealing a bunch of smaller boxes packed tightly within. “I know you two don’t always have time to run out to grab something to eat, so I thought I’d do it for you. It’s important to keep your energy up when you’re using your brains so much.”

Jayce wastes no time in helping you unpack everything you’d brought, opening up each little package to discover the treasures that lay inside. It’s mostly foods that you know Viktor likes - a couple of baked goods, some potato dumplings, a thermos of root stew, some little swirly breads. 

In no time, he’s fixed himself a plate and gone back to his own workplace, leaving you to stand alone by the feast.

Looking at Viktor.

Who was looking at you.

Looking at you with the most suspicion you’ve ever seen him wear, with his eyes narrowed in thought and his shoulders held tight and square.

“Why?” he asks, glancing between you and the food.

“What do you mean, why?”

His brows pull together slightly, adding to the absolute absurdity of his expression.

“What’s the catch?” he reiterates, finally rising from his seat to slink towards you. “You never bring us lunch. Ever. What’s the occasion?”

You shrug nonchalantly.

“Why would I need a reason to be nice?” you ask. You supposed you could just tell him what you were up to - you doubt he’d be upset with you if you did. He’d probably just be curious about your theory.

The only issue was that if he knew, it might skew your data. If he knew what you were looking for, he might try to react in a way that he thought you’d like - or in a way that would purposefully fuck with you.

No, it would be better if you didn’t tell him. At least not yet.

“V, I’m all for asking questions, but please stop trying to dissect a good thing?” Jayce pleads from the other side of the room, casting over his best impression of a kicked puppy.

You’re pretty sure he knows what you’re up to.

Viktor, in any case, appears to be momentarily placated by your explanation, poor as it was. You know that he’s going to wonder about it eventually, but for now you’ve got time. You’ve got time to sit and eat lunch with your two best friends, and hopefully think up some better excuses.

—

You continue bringing the two of them lunch for the next week. Jayce remains completely unbothered by the situation, and even offers to help once you tell him what your master plan is.

He knows how down bad you are for your friend, and you’re certain that he’s fully sick of listening to you lament about how pretty he is and how badly your heart aches.

Viktor hasn’t mentioned anything since the first day of your new routine, either, but you can tell he’s just as suspicious as he was at the start. His gaze is always sharp when you clatter into the room with another box of food, watching intently while you unpack, remaining trained on you while he makes his way over to hesitantly scoop some up for himself.

Almost like he’s waiting for some kind of reaction out of you.

But you give him nothing, no hints as to what your plan is. You wait patiently while he fixes himself a plate, asking him how his day has been or perhaps about what he’s working on, smiling softly all the while.

It’s exactly one week to the day when you burst into the lab again, followed closely by your loud and raucous announcement of your presence, only to be met with silence.

“I’m afraid Jayce isn’t here today,” Viktor sighs from behind a stack of notebooks, not even bothering to turn his attention away from the formulas he’s copying down.

You, however, are undeterred, continuing your trail into the room, over to your usual table where you are about to begin Phase Two of testing your theory.

“I know,” you reply, setting your things down. “He said he had a thing with Mel today - and a busy week, too.”

You can see from the corner of your eye as your friend finally turns away from his work.

“You knew he wouldn’t be here?” he wonders, utterly perplexed. When you hum your confirmation, he continues, “Then why did you bother coming?”

That alone is enough to give you pause, glancing towards him in confusion.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask.

You stare at each other for a couple of seconds, before he shrugs and makes a noncommittal grumble, turning back to his papers.

He…thought you wouldn’t come? If it was just him, he thought…you wouldn’t even bother showing up. As if he wasn’t your best friend, and the love of your life, and the brightest part of your day? Like he couldn’t possibly be the reason for your kindness?

Your heart clenches.

In silence, you fix him a plate of the little foods you know he’ll like; you’d gone out of your way to pick out a couple of his favourites today, having suspected that he might be difficult to persuade without Jayce nearby to bully him into eating.

“Here,” you tell him, softly, setting the plate on the desk beside him. You set your hand on his shoulder for a brief moment, letting your fingertips wander down his arm, and then turn away to head back to your own work.

Knowing Viktor, he’d prefer the silence over active conversation. It was easier for him when the other half of HexTech was around to act as a buffer and keep your endless desire to talk entertained. But today, when it’s just the two of you? You know you’ve overstepped your bounds in the past, pushing him into a state of discomfort with your constant chattering.

But not today.

Today, you’ve brought your own work with you, fully intent on sitting quietly with your best friend while you both eat your meals. You had the entire hour to catch up on grading your students’ tests - grades they’d been hassling you about for a while now.

It’s a little bit uncomfortable at first, to not talk while you know he’s nearby. There are things from your day that you want to share with him - something funny that one of your first-years said to you, the gossip you’ve heard about other faculty members.

But you resist.

Viktor, on the other hand, only makes it about ten minutes.

All at once, the incessant scribbling of his pen stops, followed by a deep sigh, and the quiet clatter of the utensil being set down. A creak in his chair, as he turns towards you.

“Have I done something to offend you?” he inquires, bluntly, as usual.

You glance up from your pile of papers with wide eyes, surprised by the suddenness of his question.

“No?” you reply, “Why would you think that?”

He sighs again, his gaze wandering away from yours and down to the floor. He looks hesitant, the same sort of hesitant that he’d been when taking the food you offered to him: like he was waiting for something to happen. 

Like he was waiting for you to…to announce that you were playing some kind of absurd prank-

Oh.

“You’ve hardly said a word to me today,” he mumbles, crossing his arms on the back of his chair so he can rest his head between them.

“But…you like the quiet?” you reply, far more meek than you’d intended to be. Had he been taking your entire experiment as some kind of mean joke on him? Had he already known that he was reminiscent of a cat? Did he think you were making fun of him for it?

“Yes!” he retorts quickly, running a hand through his already-mussed hair. “But you’re always talking! To me, to Jayce - about your students, or some shitty scholarly article you read! You’ve been acting strange for the entire week. First the food, and now this - are you okay? Are you-”

“Viktor, breathe!” you squeak.

The moment you see the worry in his eyes, you jump to your feet and make your way over to him. Taking his face in your heads, despite your better judgment or regard to the rules of your plan. Stroking your thumbs slowly over the curve of his cheeks, holding him close while he forced himself to relax and slow his breathing.

You’ve never seen him so outwardly worried about you.

“Look,” you murmur, “I just…I care about you. A lot. And I feel like sometimes I…do a pretty shitty job of showing it.”

Slowly, you let your hands slide down to rest atop his shoulders.

“I’m always after you to take better care of yourself, but I never actually do anything to help. And - and I always push conversations on you, even though I know you’d rather work on your own projects.”

With a dejected sigh, you remove your hands from him completely, “Even now. My first instinct when trying to comfort you is to touch you, even though I know you don’t really like it.”

Idly, you fiddle with the edges of your sleeves.

“I just want to make you happy, but…I know I can be annoying, sometimes. I’m sorry.”

The air is thick between the two of you after that. You can’t for the life of you figure out what else you should say, if anything - you can’t even bring yourself to look him in the eye. Instead, you turn on your heel and wobble back to your seat, trying your hardest to keep the hot sting of tears from reaching your eyes.

You feel like an idiot.

Your entire plan was stupid, and your theory was stupid, and wanting to test it? Stupid!

So caught up in your own thoughts, you don’t even notice the sound of a chair being dragged across the room, over to where you sit. Only when Viktor shoves it right up beside you and plops down nearly in your lap do you jostle out of your own head.

Staring up at him with wide eyes.

“You think you’re annoying?” he asks, nearly incredulous. “I never have anything to contribute to your conversations - never have any stories or adventures of my own to share. You have to carry all our interactions! And you…think you’re annoying?”

You scoff softly. “I mean, most of my other colleagues tolerate me, and only barely. Do you know how many break room conversations I’ve accidentally overheard about me?”

He grumbles a bit, letting his head roll sideways to carefully knock against the curve of your shoulder. 

“This isn’t about them,” he insists. “You’re not annoying. I enjoy listening to you talk - you always have interesting perspectives on subjects that I rarely consider.”

He tilts his face up, then, staring up at you from mere inches away with a sort of intensity that makes your cheeks nearly catch fire.

“And I also like it when you remind me to take a break. You know how I am about keeping track of time - if there isn’t an alarm, I’ll sit and work until I pass out.”

Slowly, oh so slowly, you lean towards him. Gently, tenderly, with an affection that makes your chest ache - you bonk your forehead against his, the barest of touches, but the most intimate you’ve ever been with him.

And all at once, his face lights up into a bright, rosy hue.

Much like how you had connected the dots a week ago, all the pieces fall into place in his mind. One by one, clicking together to form an entire beautiful picture: a story of your friendship, finally understanding.

“You…” he begins, trailing off as he tilts his head up by a fraction, drawing you into a kiss you’ve both been waiting years for.

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #viktor fluff #arcane fluff #viktor reader insert #see mom i cant possibly in a depressive episode i wrote THIS #arcane reader insert

[dynamite124]

I know we can ship him with anyone, but would Tally be the best couple with Kaidan, Inigo, or Lucien? Like how would he be in relationships with them?

My first ask of the new year!

Taliesin would probably fit better as an older brother/mentor figure for Lucien due to his younger age at 21 and lack of experience. He'd be more focused on making sure Lucien does die because "Keep calm and protect Lucien".

Inigo would definitely be that friend that enjoys getting under Taliesin's skin as much as Taliesin enjoys doing to others. Inigo's "flea" issue would be a major turn off for him, but he would still enjoy Inigo's company and welcome the returned sass. I can also see Inigo getting a little flustered with Taliesin giving him a cat-related nickname like "Wiskers" or "Pussycat".

The bigger issue with Kaidan would his grudge with the Thalmor. Obviously, Taliesin's only set of clothing is his robes so that would be a turn off for Kaidan. Taliesin, in turn, is smart enough NOT to poke the bear, but that's not going to stop Taliesin from teasing him. I can see these two falling into a lot of petty bickering to the point that it's just the way they communicate with each other. A "No one can pick on him but me" sort of dynamic.

Anything leading to more than a friendship would fall solely on Kaidan's shoulders. Given his past with the Thalmor, Taliesin wouldn't be comfortable making the first move or any move that could make Kaidan uncomfortable. He will openly admit he finds Kaidan handsome though.

#skyrim taliesin #taliesin #skyrim #skyrim custom followers #skyrim mods #Inigo #Inigo the brave #Lucien #Lucien Flavius #Kaidan #Skyrim Kaidan #Kaidan 2

[vqrtualheartss]

Hii

Every Sunday, you scanned the church's congregation for a familiar face ― Aunt Rio's son, Miles. It seemed as though she barely managed to drag him every other week given the nonchalant look he always wore. You held him as a classification of a hallway crush, never daring to do much than pretend not to stare from the other side of the alter unless you were ready to meet the god you served. Well, the God your whole family served; yeaa, you're the pastor's daughter. And I think we know how that goes, being expected to keep Sunday school each and every week, not to mention that the simplest things were prohibited like music, talking in a "ghetto" way, blah blah blah yaddi yaddi yadda. And your absolute favorite ― always keeping your appearance up to posh

"I will not have my eldest dressing like a jezebel or some boy in my own home. Go and take that off right this instant"

Were the ever present words spoken by your mother if you made the mere mistake of wearing shorts or sweats' around the house. If anything, life felt like a Greenleaf episode and not in a good way. Ranging from the secrets and scandals behind the chapel's closed doors or the fact that multiple administrators like to front that they had the perfect, picturesque family. You couldn't tell which was worse; that they had nothing like that or the fact that your own family―. Nah, in this house you had no family, not since your sister Asaria left.

With tears in both of your eyes, she barely mouthed the words "I'm sorry" to you. It could be the fact you were just eight years old to register what she was apologizing for or that the tears bound your vision so badly you mistook the statement for something else. That couldn't be it, you could see clearly the disgust-filled scowls on your parents faces and they held you back. And like all the stupid rules enforced, your family forbid you from ever contacting her, brainwashing you that they were only trying their bests at raising you. Therefore, you pushed Asaria's words and underlying warning at the back of your mind, convincing yourself that she was just paranoid.. yea. Let's just say that all the delusion wore off when it was your time to take the mic.

You never thought that they'd do this, it felt unreal, like some book with a fucked up plot. But it was happening, you were being wed off at the mere age of seventeen. You know that like all the previous fights, you'd never win. Then again here you stood, behind the chancel, arguing about the dominant latter of your life. Did it even feel like you had one of your own? You felt like a puppet being induced to what was 'for your own good' as you helplessly bantered with your parents Mr. and Mrs. Larkspur

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

"If both parents agree to it, you may be wed" Some mother you are "I was barely sixteen last week, how am I eligible to get married" "I suggest you fix your tone young woman" "THAT'S THE LEAST IMPORTANT THING RIGHT NOW"

The frilled dress I wore swayed with the movements my hand made justifying why what they're doing is absolutely atrocious. Why isn't stuff like this illegal? Tears swung from my lash line as I flashed my face from my fathers wavering hand meant to do nothing but harm. He wasn't one to put his hands on anyone but when he felt desperate or threatened to show dominance; like right now. My mother held onto her coat tightly with that same disgust she watched Asaria flea with whilst my father balled his fist. The claps of the congregation started to die down. Grunting, he walked out onto the nave, but not before giving me a scorning glare. She stood unmoved, dragging me to our house attached to the church by my arm to give the same lecture she had over a thousand times.

"YOU have full knowledge as to why we're doing this. You're father and I are growing grey and we need someone to take over the legacy of the church and with you as our eldest we cannot let you rule over alone or by yourself"

Because I'm a girl? I managed to keep up a neutral look, not an angry or sad one. I couldn't bear to show any emotions, they stripped me of them. The teachings of her scolding me for frowning or crying stood bold in the forefront of my mind. You'd think that she'd come with something along the lines of "Strong girls don't cry" or some crap like that but nope, her reasoning was that "Smiling and frowning makes frown lines and we need to look perfect" I shook away the thoughts as I listened to my mother spur verbal diarrhea.

"If I could I'd marry off your sister because unlike you, she has sense but you know what the church would thi―" "What is wrong with you― Nyla's been sixteen for only three months― Are you insane―"

She slapped me hard, a reminder that she― "Will not tolerate disrespect from a child". As much as I wanted to retaliate, I held out, rubbing the left side of my face as she continued.

"You WILL listen to you us and meet Mr. & Mrs. Nightingale's son tonight"

Oh great, the Nightingales. Another perfect family, I wonder how'd they feel if they found out that their precious son was really up to. What's his name again? Jevaughn? Jaxon? Do I even care? Mmcht

She did a once over of me before adding "Be in the church in less than 5, you will be leading choir today" Didn't even ask me to

We went separate ways; my mother to my father and I to a powder room. Composing myself once more, I hurried inside the church in front of the choir loft, feeling relief when I spotted not a questioning stare. I've learnt to hide how I felt truly behind a faux smile quite well If I do say so myself, but no matter how much I tried my eyes remained glassy― tears threatening to betray thr façade at any moment.

I gave a tight-lipped smile to the congregation as they welcomed my appearance with cheers. I laughed when Tía Rio moved to the front row in midst of the clapping, she waved to me and I did likewise but a little more erratically. She's an amazing person to know and really a nice woman, a great woman that does her best for her family. It painfully excruciates me how these women could sit on her name and belittle her as if they were someone to look up to. She's definitely a better individual than those in this church that like to claim they are combined. But the day I go off on them, I'll let them know.

After thanking the usher for the microphone I ran back to the choir unsure which song to perform. A few members suggested traditional songs and favorites, one stuck out most to me though: Man in the mirror by Michael Jackson. I bit my lip contemplating the decision, we just started to sing (somewhat) church-related pop songs in church so I was a bit hesitant; but as I said, relating, some of these people need to hear it.

I announced the choice to the band members before returning to my position, clearing my throat as I scanned the audience. No, I wasn't scared, I've done this too many times to be. Receiving a signal from the drummer I allowed the choir to voice the opening, joining when they started the second verse. Eventually, we approached the high note as I begged for my throat to not close up. I looked around the room.

“I'm starting with the man in the mirror I'm asking him to change his ways And no message could've been any clearer If you wanna make the world a better place Take a look at yourself and then make a change”

You're staring

You're still staring

Despite the song being half-finished everyone started to clap, giving a literal standing ovation. Did some of them finally heed the meaning? Coming down from the high, I took focus in my vision. Was I looking at Miles this whole time? Widening my eyes at the realization had him chuckling, he waved before continuing to clap.

First time without a stoic expression and I'm wishing he smiled more. I put a palm in the middle of my face to loosely hide my smile before waving back. A few of the young men waved even though it wasn't directed to them. Looking over to their spots Miles and I shook our heads.

Behind me, my father cleared his throat, the harsh sound reminding me of my earlier troubles. My expression died down quickly. Instead of beside my family I sat in the first row in the choir loft. Miles moved to the front of the church to his mother who began to question him about something. She turned to me and smiled, speaking softly "You did amazing" Although I couldn't hear too well over the preaching, I pieced out her words, thanking her in return.

Usually, I'd be somewhere discreetly using my phone but it was different today. My eyes moved back and forth from my father to Miles who did likewise; giggling each time we made eye contact at same.

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

Even though I didn't want to, I gathered the strength to partake in the seemingly mandatory post-service meet and greet

"'Ah dear, meet one of my good friends. Robert this is (y/n), (y/n), Robert"

The man whom he was introducing looked worn out, wrinkles showing in every crevice in his face despite (from what I've heard) being in his late 30's. He wore gold grills on his bottom canines, which I would hate to say matches well with his black and white suit.

"Hello, I'm (y/n). Pleasured to meet you"

"Likewise"

His voice came off hoarse, sounding as if someone who had smoked for a week straight finally took a breath.

Even though opting for a simple handshake, the man dragged me into an uncomfortable hug. And I mean uncomfortable, his hands trailed all about my back, quickening its pace heading underneath the mid-back vest I wore. I pulled back, crushing the man's toes with my heel as I did.

"I'm so sorry"

I innocently smiled at the grunting man that held onto his loafer tightly. With the hand resting on his left forearm I would've pinched him if my father didn't take him away. I saw my mother introducing Nyla to some boy of her age. Ew.

About 10 footsteps away I felt a warm hand on my shoulder that sent me tumbling. I probably would've fell if I wasn't caught by the hug afterwards.

"Tía Rio" I paused, resting a hand on my chest before continuing

"Hola hija"

She pulled me back into her embrace before stepping backwards.

"You were absolutely amazing out there― as always" "'Thank you tía, that truly means a lot to me" "Oh hush, I know you've heard that about a thousand times now" "Well, it means a lot from you"

We laughed a bit before she started to pat down her bag. "Before I forget" She dipped her hand into its largest compartment before taking out something wrapped in colorful tissue paper. "Here"

Handing it over I could tell by the texture that it was some type of food― cookies probably. At this point they were a symbolic part of our relationship.

------------ Flashback twin

The cold December air on the exposed skin on your knee was doing you no good. Said cold wind was what had you like this. With a snotty-nose you were headed to your mothers purse for a tissue. And when she was nowhere to be found, you frantically ran around in search for her, convinced this was some sick game of hide-and-seek.

Sitting in a random slide with your feet up to your chest, you felt tears rush when a boy with hair slightly longer than the others saw you crying and hurriedly turned back.

"If it's another stray cat we're not keeping it" "No mama"

The same boy came through the other end of the slide, pointing at you. Not knowing what else to do, you hid your head between your legs and chest, bringing it up at sudden speech directed to you.

"My mommy says you should come down. She wants to see you"

Bringing your head up by the slightest, you could see the boy's extending hand in front of your face. "You have to get out because mommy's too fat to fit in" The woman who you figured to be his mother had her mouth agape, her shocked expression turning soft when you two started to laugh.

Holding onto his hand you both slid down, the adrenaline numbing the pain in your knee. Immediately after standing up she noticed your blood stained shorts, rushing you to a nearby bench.

"¿Qué tal? How did this happen?" Even though opening your mouth for words none came out, 6-year-old you unsure how to explain the situation. Understanding your frustration she spoke up. "It's okay, you don't have to tell me" She gave you a comforting smile. Which in return had you smiling, then her son, revealing the front tooth he recently lost.

After she finished bandaging your knee she began to put her belongings back into her bag, leaving out just one thing. A floral pink and white decorative tissue. She handed it to her son who quickly hid it behind his back the moment it touched his hand.

"I wanted the purple paper mama. Pink is for girls" His mother crossed her arms, tilting her head "Do you want me to take them back?" He shook his head no, bringing out the stuffed paper with his free hand. His other was still laced into yours. He placed the tissue beside you, jumping up onto the bench so the pastries sat between you two. He brought one up to your face.

"Want one?" Being thoroughly instructed to never take anything from anyone in public made you decline― or try to. Opening your lips to refuse politely, he pushed quarter of a cookie into your mouth.

"MILES―" "Yes, mama" He smiled innocently, turning towards his mother. She stood shaking her head in disapproval, sighing in relief that you didn't choke.

"Do you like them?" He paused waiting for an answer, receiving a satisfied hum, he gloated "My mom made them" He looked at the cookies still stacked high "Want more?"

Even though saying yes once to the question, Miles seemingly made it a priority to ensure there were always enough cookies in case he ever saw you again. Given the amount of times he woke up to a fresh batch and reminded his mother of his constant request, it became robotic like clockwork to her.

''Mama, did you make enough for-'' ''Yes, I made enough for you and your little girlfriend"

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

"Yeah huh?" The sudden high pitch of her voice brought me back to Earth. The one place I don't want to be right now "This is my son, Miles. I'm sure you remember him"

I hummed in response, turning my back to my family's faces to draw any unwanted press while shaking his hand. Retracting his hands he gave that signature one-dimple smile which I felt shy to return.

"Nice to meet you" He raised a brow

"We're met before, did you forget?" I literally proposed to you with a ring pop

"Ah my bad, we have to leave― Early shifts at the hospital"

"I completely understand, get home safely" She placed her hands over my balled fists, giving me a bright smile before departing. Her son lingering behind her followed in tow, waving as he left.

"What was that (y/n)? I hope you're not talking to those people outside of church matters" My mother stood closely behind my back, so she could freely show her disgusted expression without judgement. I turned to meet her wild looking eyes of age 38.

And I thought ursula didn't exist

"No mother, I would never do such things" She said nothing but a hum, which on her part would be 'not gracing me with an answer'

"Be at the south porch at evening. We have something to discuss"

What the heck did I do.

In the Larkspur mansion there's a total of four sub-buildings: The north porch used for house-warmings, general church meetings and such, pool house to the east, church to the west, and the south porch. The south meant nothing good, being the farthest sectioned from the house it was an analogy for things to be said in the dark and only in the dark, something grave like an affair. Things like that, things that could change a person's life and given by the term 'we', probably meaning my father, mother and I. I know that whatever they had to tell could change my life for the better or worse. But by now we know that anything 'for the better' would be just for them so that's not even an option.

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

Sitting down with his legs spread my father watched as my mother pranced back and forth the hardwood floor, prepping herself to say whatever it was. She looked as if the words she were about to speak pricked her tongue before they came out and whenever they did. I watched with a blank expression, hands crossed on my stomach as the fluffed material radiated heat to every crevice of my body.

"Cecelia" His paitience wore thin as the whiskey from the glass ran low. My mother repeated the same words she had over 100 times since we've been here

"This is ridiculous, certainly there's something else" My father sucked his teeth reverting all the attention to him and he chugged the last of the liquor. Although not meaning to I stared into my his eyes with some hope he'd continued what my mother couldn't start. His stare got intense, hardening every minute the contest went on.

My grandmother always told me that "It come like puss bruk coconut in yuh fada yiy" meaning that he was one with seemingly dry eyes or that he was an ill-mannered person to hold a stare to absolutely no limits or regard to who it be with. She always told me that it was something I inherited from him but unlike my father it looked better on me.

"You're changing schools"

I swear to you my eyes nearly dropped out of their sockets is a sign?

"Recently there's been a spike in teenage pregnancies at CHS and with such a tainted image we cannot have you attending there so, we had arranged a transfer for you to Brooklyn Visions"

Despite the sudden relief radiating from my body I sat still, muttering a compliant response before getting up to the exit. "And you're meeting with-" My father got cut off by my mother placing a hand on his upper thigh. Through my peripheral I could see her smirking as I went off.

I love my parents right, but sometimes (most times really) I swear— I'm going crazy in this house

--------------------------- like 2 days later

If it's one thing I know though— the sexism is gonna get you right. Long nails, lashes makeup and everything was one point but maybe there was one teeny tinyy thing you despised, clothes. You knew that Cinderella princess wardrobe of yours was too much and so you were going to argue for it.

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

As we were leaving I contemplated asking for some new clothes — speak now or forever hold your peace.

"Mother "

"Y/N?"

"Aren't we getting new clothes"

"And why would we do that? You have a plethora of dresses back home"

"That's it, the dresses are a bit.... pricy and might get the attention of the wrong crowd. I mean other than the great neighborhood around Brooklyn Visions there's its opposite too" I sucked in a breath knowing that this could go one of two ways— I could get what I want or they'd put an ankle monitor on me.

"I guess I'd never look at it from that perspective. Atleast that brain of yours works"

Excuse me.

Despite that little backhanded thing I smiled, that's 1 point for Y/N.

--------

So that's it, I'm too lazy to decorate ATM but I will

#black tumblr #earth 42 miles x reader #spotify #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x you #miles morales #across the spiderverse #e42 miles #dae

[dearsnow]

WORK IN PROGRESS

- aegon believes he is not worthy of a love as great as yours, despite his recent improvements (aegon ii targaryen x reader, angst/fluff, in this scenario he has NOT assaulted a servant and never will, not proofread we die like men)

a/n - i love him :( he’s such a tragic character, so i’m writing his redemption arc 🎉

Aegon stares down at his legs, the sheets under his sitting figure crumpled and messy. Just like himself, he thinks. He will never be the prince his mother needs or the man you deserve. God knows why you even indulge him at this point. He’s nothing but an alcoholic manwhore, and you should know.

He looks up at you with tears brimming his eyes. “I can do nothing for you,” his voice breaks, “nothing but slouch around and curse you with the fate of being with a man who’s too far gone.” He hates the whimper in his tone. He’s a snotty, arrogant child.

You take his clenched fist and smooth it around your own, worry creasing your brow. The birds outside his window seem far too cheery for the mood of the morning.

“You do much for me. You put your drinking on hold to ensure that I am happy, a selfless act- everyone is better for it. You save sweets for me after dinner. God, you love me better than any man could imagine to. You make me happy. All of that and more, Aegon. No one gives me more than you.”

“I’ve done some bad things. I should be with some whore in the pits of Flea Bottom.”

You straighten your shoulders and lightly grasp his chin in your hand. It hurts to know that is truly what he thinks of himself. Your Aegon, the boy that reaches out for you in his sleep and plays with your fingers under the dining table.

“You’ve made mistakes, yes, but you are still deserving of proper things. I love you. I’ll love you ‘til my lungs give out, ‘til the sun melts in the sky like a pile of snow in the south. You’re my work in progress, my love.”

“But I-“

“You’re not getting my point. No one is perfect, me least of all,” You tell him. You need to be firm, as much as you want to let him melt into your arms. “and very few are too far gone. We will work on you together, if you are truly regretful. I will love you every step of the way, I swear it.”

He lets a sob escape his lips, pressing himself into you. You don’t care that his tears are wetting your clothes.

You stroke his hair, whispering everything he has not gotten from the wicked world. He will improve- you know it deep in your heart.

“It’s okay. I’m here. And I’ll be here from dusk to dawn, tomorrow to tomorrow. I promise.”

Reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

#solar eclipse. #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen fanfic #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd x you #hotd x reader #house of the dragon

[ladyvlolypop]

Bucky Barnes Headcanons

these are both dating and overall head canons, if you think the writing is a little out of my usual type it's because I wrote these while

My Masterlist

Bucky Barnes x gn!reader; sfw

Very gentle, his touches are very soft and he tries to avoid being harsh with you, knowing he’s way stronger than you(and because he’s unsure of his metal arm).

When he passes you he gives you subtle touches, his hand on your hip or waist for a brief moment.

He used to smoke when he was a soldier. Heavy smoker and drinker but he never touched a cigarette again after he became the winter soldier, not because he didn’t want to but he just didn’t want to be addicted to anything.

He can definitely speak and understand bits of german and italian because he was stationed in Austria and Italy during the war. He speaks french as well but much better(we love a multilingual king)

He understands russian perfectly but struggles to speak or write/read it. He understands bits of other slavic/balkan languages as well(if you speak russian freshen up his skills a little pls)

He sometimes still stares in awe at modern things, he imagined the world differently in the 30's. Will sometimes tell you how certain spaces changed and how they used to look like back in the day.

He likes to tell you about his childhood, liking to compare how you two grew up

Has lots oft things to catch up to

Has a flip phone w a loud ass ringtone

Jumps a little when hearing his ringtone

He has a smartphone for work but he barely uses it

Loves fantasy shows/movies and reading

LOTR and GOT fan honestly

Likes baking and cooking but he’s not good at it, he’s thankful for microwaveable meals and your cooking

Can’t ride a bike

Can’t drive, learned it just before infinity war happened

He probably let his his metal arm get hot in the sun and cracked an egg on it with sam

It fried

You only call him 'James' if it's serious or if it's to tease him

will use nicknames like "Doll", "Babygirl", "Honey","Darlin'(g)" or "Dear" for you

Uses lotion for his scars

would fold if you did it for him, def will offer to do the same for you(he gives really good messages let him)

Has a routine for his beard when he lets it grow out, likes to keep himself groomed

Same for his hair

Has insane home remedies

Pulls out chernobyl broth when you have a feet ache(boils sprite)(He read about it on facebook)

Doesn’t trust italians

He’s such a dad

Dad jokes all the way

Enjoys shopping for home gadgets

Knows how to haggle and will show his skills when he can

Will often come home with surprise groceries or gifts, things or snacks you like or some other stuff he got on sale

Likes to go to flea markets

Sometimes comes home with large amounts of certain products

Man will come home with 3 boxes of fruit because there was a sale

Love language is definitely gift giving and acts of service

Carries your bags or groceries for you without asking, pretty good at fixing things around the house

He’s good with kids, wants his own but unsure when the right timing for it would be

He sometimes shows them tricks with his metal arm

He’s not much of a talker unless you two are alone

Often rants about work

Good listener though, very attentive listener

He sleeps like a bear, very warm and keeps close to you, his arm cools down at night though and you might wake up with the feeling of cold metal against your belly

He started sleeping better when you were with him, still you will sometimes find him sleeping on the floor in the mornings, old habits die hard.

He’s very stubborn, especially if it's about your safety but he hates arguing with you

He hates the possibility of you getting hurt in any way

You're on his mind all the time

walks around with the thoughts of "would Y/N like that? Should I buy them that?"

first thing he does when coming home after missions is give you a tight hug

if it's really bad all he wants to do is hold you closely and cuddle for hours

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

if you think the writing is a little out of my usual type it's because I wrote these while on a call with my bsf and she was poorly singing lana del ray songs in my ear, some of these hc were even here ideas

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes domestic hc #bucky barnes fluff #x reader #marvel #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine

[tayshifts]

Extra things I scripted into my MHA DR

Some are safety related and some are for my convenience as i was worried about them

Mosquitoes, lice, ticks, fleas, cockroaches, silverfish, and bed bugs don’t exist.

There is no rape in my DR.

There is no racism or racial prejudice.

There is no homophobia and no transphobia. There are no surgical requirements for transgender people to be able to change their gender legally. No ban on same sex marriage or same sex adoption. Equal fucking rights. LOVE IS LOVE BITCH

I take Mineta’s place in Class 1-A. Mineta is not in my DR.

UA has always had the dorms.

I have enough money to always live comfortably. UA provides all students with stipends

No one in my Class or Class B will die.

Midnight will not die

Present Mic will not die

All Might will not die

Eraserhead will not die

There is no hero licensing exam. We are given our licenses at the discretion of our teachers at our school, based on when they think we are ready for them. Class 1-A and 1-B all receive hero licenses after the events at the Training Camp and Kamino.

TikTok exists in my DR, younger heroes often have their own TikTok accounts to gain popularity.

Current music exists in my DR

We speak English at school but everyone is fluent in both english and japanese

I cannot be expelled

The Hero Support course develops a fabric for Hagakure so that she can wear something during hero work and still retain her invisibility. AKA used her hair as a base like they did for Mirio

Hagakure can also control when she is invisible and since her hero quirk will be similar to Mirio’s in concept, it will turn invisible with her

I do not know the plot as it will play out beyond where I enter my DR. For example, I will not know about the attack on the Camp prior to the attack starting

There is no Covid-19 in my DR

We have the same homeroom teacher for all three years at UA.

UA has professional therapists to help hero students cope with stress and emotions that come with hero training. These therapists can make sure students in need of mental health counseling and medication receive the proper care. (Amajiki)

UA is a college and all students are 20 upon entering their first year at UA, no matter the program.

Eri is not aged up, despite all other characters being aged up. She is still a child.

I will always remember my classmates and their hero names

Spotify Premium is just how spotify works in my DR, for free

UA gives students access to all streaming platforms. Netflix, Disney, HBO, Hulu, etc

Squishmallows has ProHero squishmallows

Sir Nighteye doesn’t die. He is injured but he and All Might will reconcile and All Might will finally explain why he couldn’t give the quirk to Mirio

The War Arc doesn’t happen, there is a better solution

Instead of the Licensing Exam, we do interschool training exercises to promote working together in the future and being exposed to other future heroes, not just our class or school’s.

I have the right adaptors/chargers/etc for outlets used in Japan

The zombie ova doesn’t happen

I understand the metric system

I understand the yen to US dollar conversion and my banking is set up when I arrive, so I don’t need to worry about it

We have the same dorm building all three years, they just change the signage to signify what year we’re in

Each dorm room has its own private bathroom. There are still the communal baths

Fatphobia is a no <3

Hidden cameras in public and nonpublic spaces aren't a thing.

The toilets are like the ones in America

ADHD/stimulant drugs are legal. I have no issues getting any of my needed medications in Japan and can get them easily from local pharmacies

Stronger Western deodorants are available in Japan, easy to find

#reality shifting #shifters #shifting #shiftblr #quantum jumping #shifting realities #shifting community #shifting to mha #mha shifter