#be warned of incest content ofc

[romancestual]

babes who has twt? i remade and i’d love to follow anyone who’s interested 🥹

[tamayakii]

Hi I read your post about yan!Tywin and that you have more inc*st headcanons about him and I’m interested if you’re cool with that 🫣

hehe thank you anon for giving me the chance to talk about this <3

warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, incest, yandere themes, female!reader, nsfw, is it bare or bear, tama asks herself BY PROCEEDING PAST THIS WARNING, YOU ARE THEREFORE CONSENTING TO VIEW THIS CONTENT.

Being Tywin's pretty pretty girl, dressed in the finest of silks and jewelry, the lady of the rock from a young age.

Whilst, of course, you weren't married, people came to view you as Lady of the Rock, which ofc didnt help with Tywin's delusions.

Okay but listen, him HIDING your monthly bleed from the world. Threatening maids that if a slip of your monthly bleed comes out that they’d lose their eyes. So westeros comes to know you as a woman with no viable womb, right? that means you have no value in being married off cause you “can’t bear children” therefore you’d his, no one would fight for your hand.

Losing your virginity to Papa Tywin, riding the same cock that helped made you, imagine a little bit of blood seepin on his cock when he first thrusts into you 😭😭 the same blood that flows through him, smeared across his loins.

BUT IMAGINE PAPA TYWIN BRINGING YOU TO THE RED KEEP WHEN HES HAND OF THE KING :(( you can’t fuck more openly now, back his casterly rock he had more control but in the castle where the rodents kill the cats, it’s a death sentence to be found out.

THAT MAN SUCKS TITTY!! i just know it!! hes a rough one too, harshly sucking on his granddaughters tits whilst sitting at his desk, palming your hips as you grind against him.

For awhile he was reasonable, you couldn’t be with child, at least to the world but as his delusions deepen, he tampers with your moon tea, and practically locks you in your room.

You’re HIS alone, HE made you.

Any man that offers his hand to you is gone, any winning knight that names you the queen of love and beauty in tournaments is suddenly crippled for life.

Your entire LIFE is controlled by him, i cannot emphasize this enough. The very air you breathe might as well be permitted by him, your meals are controlled, you garden time- oh and the GARDEN WALKS!!! When Tywin has a little time to spare and you bat your eyelashes at him, he finds that he can stomach a walk around the beautiful flowers(tho they arent as beautiful as you), servants tending to the bushes and trees find that you cling a little too close, lips a little too pouted and breasts pushed against his arm a bit much but can they say a word? no.

[hana-no-seiiki]

This is generally such a stupid ask but I feel like it would be.. Chaotic? At the very least amusing

Anyways

Batfam x Nicole from Class of 09! Reader

Do what you want (etc make it romantic or platonic, doesn't matter)

Just the batfam (yandere ofc) dealing with a chick who loves to ruin lives for her amusement and sometimes for revenge

Istg she'll just bully them at any chance she gets

~ 🕒

I just binged watched Class of ‘09 and all its endings/choices for you non. I don’t think I can fully depict how brash wittiness of Nicole is but here I go! (I am so traumatized) Didn’t know that’s where “No I’m flirting with you flash me a tiddy bitch” came from no wonder Nicole sounded so familiar.

btw if people are interested in watching class of ‘09 just be warned it’s basically a VN version of Degrees of Lewdity but the mc is actually a minor (without the sex/r*pe mechanic though) and it depicts a lot of just… pedophilia, necrophilia, assault, su*c*de, school shootings, racism??, BE WARNED.

The following content above ^ might be mentioned in this fic but in passing. MASSIVE DDDNE WARNING.

I don’t think I’m comfortable writing stepcest/incest in this blog so despite how perfect it’ll be to make Bruce your step father considering Nicole’s mom has divorced like a hundred times…maybe ask me in @yoru-no-seiiki and I’ll be down for it.

THIS IS ADMITTEDLY TIM + DAMIAN CENTRIC

“Do you even care? Do the results of your actions mean anything to you?”

“Yeah when they affect me, sure.”

You were a bitch. There was no denying that. But you were a pretty one. One many would grovel to be under.

You were used to this, ever since you reached a certain age people just looked at you different, acted in a way that… made you think they were boring, utter losers.

One of those losers was Tim’s friend.

Like all the stupid, horny men in your life, you hung out with him once and he spilled everything there was that you could share.

To the entire campus, the internet, even the news.

And because you were pretty, you got off scot-free. Those morons didn’t even check to see what you’ve been doing the past decade.

Except Tim. Timothy Drake. You only knew that his dad was super rich, and as much as it was tempting to sink your teeth into him and get a load of that daddy’s money, you knew better.

He apparently didn’t.

You see there was one thing every batfam member couldn’t resist. Well, two things. The first was saving people.

The second? Fixing them.

When Tim first approached you he was confused.

You were quite the popular figure in Uni. He heard the rumors. He fully expected to be cussed out to hell and back.

But you were… nice. Agreeable at most really. Brash was an understatement. But you were witty. Your comebacks were swift and deadly.

The more he studied stalked you the more he realized that the two of you were the same.

Two bright people stuck with dull idiots.

And Tim? Tim interested you enough for you to not to completely drop him after the first week. That and most of your bullying probably wouldn’t bode well towards the son of a billionaire.

He was smart, even more so than that nerd friend of his that you destroyed the life of. But more importantly he actually had some tact, and was surprisingly packed underneath all those baggy clothes.

Tim had to admit he was kind of forgetting his entire purpose of ‘fixing’ you.

Until you manipulated yet another guy into jumping off a school building for you. Thankfully he survived because Red Robin happened to be there to apprehend him but still!

And what’s worse, you met up with him afterwards talking about how that Red Robin ruined all your plans of crippling a r*pist.

Wait, a r*pist?

Tim looks through your past victims once more. Admitted he only did a surface level job of studying them in comparison to his PhD level knowledge on everything about you specifically.

And…you were right. Every guy you’ve harassed was being pushy with you in the first place, if not people with authority a decade older.

Fuck.

Well now he had no excuse. He had to make you his.

Meanwhile…

“Ugh, Damian. Can’t you tell your brother to like, fuck off or something? I can feel my social standing totally plummet every second he’s around. How do you handle being related to him?” You groaned. You weren’t fucking stupid. You knew Tim was stalking and drooling all over you lately. You hated it. He was ruining your chances with your new victims.

“Jeez [Y/N]. And here I thought you were like, into him.” Jessica, your actual crush and best friend, commented as she filed her nails.

You being the emotional stunted adult you were only replied with an (admittedly softer) “Eat a sandpaper cock and die bitch.”

Damian stared at you, the words die before they crawl out of his mouth. His hands clenched underneath the lunch tables.

Guess he had another thing to steal from his brother this time.

[theyluvlyss]

i saw your post on needing more creativity (to word it briefly) in remmick/sinners fanfics and IM HERE TO SUPPLY!! im thinking of making a new account should i do it???

𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 !!!

per my last couple of posts, I would LOVE some requests to start piling up. I wanna see more ideas and thoughts for me to work with (and fangirl about🥴✋🏽-).

and as far as you making an account goes, anon, I ofc encourage you do it if it will make you happy - legit, the whole reason I started this blog was because I wanted my own space to write, say, request, post, etc. whatever tf I want, so you'll never get a 'no' from me when trying to do the same😌🫶🏽.

reminder to all, though !! to reiterate/add to some of my boundaries when it comes to sinners requests specifically !! ...

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

I know I have and am usually/typically willing to write taboo topics when it comes to other fandoms, but sinners (to me, in my personal opinion) is a lot more sacred and special, so there's certain changes i'm making/abiding by apart from my usual/normal rules out of both respect and just the simple fact that it's just gonna be strict 'round this bitch, like, idk what to tell you lmao.

- NO moore twins incest or stepcest, i'm not doing it.

- no weird "sammick" bullshit, this is not a sammick ship friendly blog, don't interact, follow, or request things regarding that ship towards me, you'll be blockt with a QUICKNESS.

- I do welcome think, theory, and thirst pieces in my ask inbox, but be aware each of those topics will be kept separate from one another. time and place rules; don't bring up think piece material in the comments of an imagine I worked hard on that has nothing to do with the nuances of the movie and it's themes - and vice versa - don't start thirsting under posts I may make regarding how I view the characters and their role/purpose and whatnot.

- i'm not at all opposed to age gaps, but i'm not doing anything illegal, so don't even go there. but yeah, again, this is vampire media/content - age gaps are a large chunk of the appeal and if you don't like that, then maybe you're not ready to engage in vamp content, idk😭🤷🏽‍♀️.

- unless written or requested otherwise, reader will always be assumed 20+ years old, black/black-coded, and southern. and when it comes to requesting otherwise, plz be clear with your intentions on why, and don't be weird - like seriously, if I see something I don't like, it's not getting written and I will put you on blast, I don't have patience whatsoever for nonsense, so don't start😭🙏🏽.

- i'm a bit picky when it comes to plots, fair warning (i'll try not to let it be an issue tho lol no worries) - especially modern au's, so don't expect a whole lot of those unless you want some of my more "awkward" writing (for lack of a better word) lmao.

- I will write for...

elias "stack" moore

elijah "smoke" moore

sammie "preacher boy" moore

remmick

bo chow

- I shouldn't even have to say this, but NO, I will not be doing any kkk members x reader, kkk dynamic work, kkk NOTHING. I don't even have the words to explain the disgust and anger that it brings me to even think about it, i'm fighting for my life not to say nothing violent and out of pocket rn-...

- be aware that I don't have an official masterlist yet, so stay tuned for when that gets uploaded, because when it does, that means the very first of any sinners related fics of mine has been completed and added :D !!

- and last but not least, basic fanfic/account etiquette...

don't like what I write? don't read it.

don't like me or my content? block me.

questions? just ask, and be respectful.

and finally, if you leave any type of negativity on my page, you'll be dealt with accordingly.

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

anyways, that's all for now. thanks for reading this and for all of the strong engagement, love, and support I've received so far on the topic of sinners fanfic, it's really jarring in a good way after being kind of a dead account for a while😭🙏🏽. I hope I can deliver what y'all want/are expecting💕.

byeeee /ᐠ^˕^マ !!!

[cinnamoonfairy]

moon is goddess, wife of sun

pairing: victorian gothic helaena x aegon.

summary: after years the targaryen family case has always been remembered as one of the biggest tragedies in history but no one ever knew what was behind those thick walls. the secrets and horrors that it kept locked. until a young and ambitious detective is determined to find out the truth.

warnings: very very very dark content. inspired by the jack the ripper events (and my personal theory that it wasn't just one person) brother and sister incest. hunter/prey kind of relationship. emotional and physical violence. abusive parents. not properly treated mental illness. alcoholism. smut. p in v. dubcon/noncon. gore. graphic descriptions of murder. cannibalism. dark magic practices. religious trauma. fluff if you squint. english is not my first language.

𝜗𝜚 poppy talks₊ ˚ ･ 've had this cooking for an eternity but i'm a coward to post it cause i think everything i write sucks. lmk if you want to be tagged ofc.

There had been many investigations throughout the years, too many people obsessing over the case and creating theories to try to give closure to what it still was one of the biggest mysteries in history till this day. The strange and isolating way of living, the secrets, the mysterious disappearances and finally the murder of what was left of one of the most famous families in London. A house haunted by ghosts both real and from the past, a messed up family tree, envy, treachery, the universe or god.

But at the end none of it mattered and the only ones who could tell the whole story were long gone. Until the cursed box was found.

A diary. A locket. A key.

The sun was setting when a young and freshly graduated detective walked past the big half rooted wooden doors of the ruins of what once was the majestic Targaryen Manor. Some may say he had chosen an ambitious topic for his first project. As an official detective for the London Police Department, he must open a cold case and try to solve it with the little to no evidence there was still left. The young man had picked no other than the mystery of the brutal murder of the two last living members of the Targaryen family.

But this innocent investigation may lead to darker revelations and open up old wounds to human nature that were meant to stay stitched and covered.

[theetherealbloom]

AS GOOD A REASON - CH. 6 | OBERYN MARTELL

Chapter Six: There's Blood On The Side Of The Mountain

Summary: You, who has made it her life's work to get retribution on those who mistreated and harassed you when you were a child. The scars on your body are a physical reminder of the suffering you endured at the hands of abusers, and they also provide the fuel for your years-long quest for retribution.

Paring: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, MINORS GO AWAY, GoT is full of serious and harmful topics, mentions of SA, Rape (not the reader), Murder, Violence, Gore, War, Poison, Scars, Burns, Scratching, Attempted Su!c!de, Idealization of Su!c!de, AU, Age–Gap Romance, Angst, FLUFF, Eventual SMUT, Swearing, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Blood, War, Religion References, Nudity, Domestic Abuse, Incest, Prostitution, Weapons, Fire, Horror, Character Deaths, Rewrite Alternate Universe, Sex, Alcohol, Revenge, Panic Attacks, Anxiety Attack,

Word Count: 9.2k (I’m sorry this is so long wtf)

A/N: Istg. Make sure you read ALL the warnings! This chapter is going to be sad by the way. It’s extra sad. Keep your chin up, girl. You got this. Also, yes, ofc the song I chose would be Can’t Catch Me Now by Olivia Rodrigo, it makes sense tehe.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: Can’t Catch Me Now by Olivia Rodrigo

Previous Chapter → Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

KING’S LANDING, THE BATTLE PIT — DAY

From where you stand, the pit feels like a hollow reflection of King’s Landing itself—a stage for brutality, where bloodshed is applauded and violence wears the crown. Your sneer twists in disdain as you watch Ser Gregor "The Mountain" Clegane slice through a prisoner with disturbing ease, lifting the poor soul high on his greatsword. Blood streams from the prisoner’s mouth, his eyes wide in terror before The Mountain tosses him to the sand like discarded meat. The sound of his body hitting the ground is drowned out by the murmurs of the onlookers, but it echoes in your ears nonetheless.

Cersei watches, her eyes cold and calculating, as a line of prisoners stand chained, awaiting their fate. Each filthy, ragged figure, a nameless body lined up for slaughter. You feel a bitter twist in your gut—this spectacle, this violence—meant to terrify more than entertain.

One of the guards barks orders, shoving the next prisoner forward like livestock.

“Go on, move it,” the guard snaps, his tone indifferent to the man’s terror.

The prisoner stumbles forward, his trembling hands reaching for a meager weapon at his feet. You catch a glimpse of his wide, panicked eyes—he knows his fate. Still, he holds the weapon like it might mean his survival, like it might hold off the inevitable for even a few heartbeats longer. But the outcome is written in the blood that already stains the sand beneath him.

The first prisoner attacks The Mountain with desperation. He lunges, wild and reckless, but The Mountain is faster, his sword cleaving through flesh with a sickening ease. The prisoner’s body folds as he’s disemboweled in one stroke, his life ending in a gruesome heap at the giant’s feet. 

The next prisoner, shaking, drops his weapon entirely, sinking to his knees. Tears mix with the dirt on his face as he pleads for mercy.

“Mercy, please. Please, mercy,” the man cries, his voice breaking, filled with the kind of hopelessness that makes your chest tighten.

Cersei watches with an air of indifference, her lips curling ever so slightly as The Mountain delivers a series of savage overhead blows, reducing the prisoner to nothing more than a broken corpse. The sand beneath him darkens with blood, and you force yourself to keep watching, not out of morbid curiosity, but as a reminder. This is the city you’re in. These are the people who rule it.

Cersei steps forward, her gaze fixed on The Mountain. “Ser Gregor,” she says smoothly, her voice cutting through the air like a knife. “Welcome to the capital. Thank you for riding here so quickly.”

You note the lack of warmth in her tone, the way she speaks to him as though she were addressing a weapon, not a man. In truth, that’s exactly what The Mountain is to her—just another tool.

Cersei’s gaze flickers down to the bodies strewn about the pit. “You seem to be in good form.”

The Mountain’s reply is as cold as it is simple. “Who am I fighting?”

Cersei raises a brow, her expression as detached as ever. “Does it matter?”

The Mountain shakes his head. To him, it truly doesn’t. Flesh is flesh, no matter whose body it belongs to.

But you think otherwise.

As you stand there, your eyes narrowing at the towering figure of The Mountain, you wonder how many lives he has ruined, how many people have died in his shadow. A thought sharpens within you—among the things victims have lost, how many things can they ever truly reclaim? You can’t help but wonder if any of these prisoners were thinking the same, if their last thoughts were of the homes they’ll never return to, the families they’ve left behind.

It’s not justice they seek in these final moments. There’s no glory here. The only thing left to reclaim is their honor—what little remains of it. Some might hope for forgiveness, for mercy. But you know better. In King’s Landing, where the powerful feast on the misery of others, revenge is often the only way to regain even a fraction of that lost honor. Only then, in the pursuit of vengeance, can one truly begin again.

You look at Cersei, at The Mountain, and think to yourself, Forgiveness has no place here. Not in this city. Not when men like The Mountain are allowed to walk free, spilling blood for sport, for the amusement of those in power. No, here, revenge is the only way to claim victory, to bring balance to the scales. You keep your thoughts to yourself, but deep down, you know—glory through revenge may be the only true path to the starting point.

There are no second chances.

KING'S LANDING, TYRION'S CELL — EVENING

You knew Bronn was smart enough to fear the Mountain. One misstep, and anyone facing that monstrous man would be dead in an instant. Yet, as you moved quietly through the shadowed halls, following Oberyn down to Tyrion’s cell, an unsettling dread filled you. Oberyn had already made up his mind. His determination was palpable, and it terrified you.

You’d trained yourself to move unseen, your footsteps silent on the cold stone floors of King’s Landing. Perhaps Oberyn knew you were trailing him, but he didn’t seem to care. His confidence radiated from him like the warmth of the torch he carried, unwavering, even as you concealed yourself in the shadows.

Inside the cell, Tyrion sat in the dark, his posture heavy with defeat. The door creaked open, and you pressed yourself against the wall, listening intently.

Oberyn stepped inside, his torch casting flickering light across the damp, narrow space.

"I imagined you'd be back at the brothel at this hour," Tyrion remarked, his voice filled with a bitter, tired amusement.

Oberyn’s tone was smooth, as it always was, with a hint of mischief. "I did spend some time with an absolutely stunning blonde the other day."

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly at the mention, a sharp twinge twisting in your chest. But you kept your eyes on the scene before you, your heart quickening as their exchange continued.

"Do tell," Tyrion replied, managing a slight smirk. "I've got every kind of filth down here except the kind I like."

Oberyn placed his torch down, the flame casting shadows that flickered along the walls as he took a seat beside Tyrion. The light softened his features but couldn’t chase away the gravity in his words. 

"Your sister," Oberyn said.

"Oh," Tyrion replied, his expression falling.

You relaxed slightly as the realization settled within you. Oberyn had meant Cersei. The tension in your chest eased, but the conversation soon shifted, becoming darker.

"Cersei approached me. We spoke a great deal about her daughter," Oberyn explained, his voice lowering. "How worried your sister is about her. She was trying very hard to pretend she had not come to sway me against you. I think she may have even believed it herself."

A small smile tugged at your lips. Oberyn was always clever, always able to see through the intricate webs of deception spun by those in King’s Landing. It was a quality you both admired and envied.

"Making honest feelings do dishonest work is one of her many gifts," Tyrion said with a grim chuckle, leaning against the wall.

"It was difficult for her to hide her true intentions," Oberyn continued, his voice calm but full of insight. "It is rare to meet a Lannister who shares my enthusiasm for dead Lannisters. She desperately wants to see you killed."

"She didn't need to bother you," Tyrion responded with a bitter laugh. "It looks as though I've taken care of that myself. The joy she will feel when my head leaves my neck... She’s wanted this for a long time."

Oberyn’s gaze darkened slightly, the firelight reflecting in his eyes. "Yes, I know. We met, you and I, many years ago."

Tyrion blinked, looking puzzled. "I think I would have remembered that."

"Unlikely," Oberyn replied, his tone shifting as he recalled the memory. "You had just been born. Our father brought me and my sister Elia with him on a visit to Casterly Rock. My first time away from Dorne. I didn’t like anything about the Rock. Not the food, not the weather, your accents. Nothing." His voice hardened as he continued. "But the biggest disappointment... was you."

Tyrion’s face fell, his usual armor of sarcasm failing him. "You and my family have more in common than you might admit," he muttered.

You watched closely, frowning as Oberyn recounted his tale. You understood disappointment more than anyone. After all, your own mother had cast you away the moment you were born, sending you to a life of servitude.

Oberyn continued, "The whole way from Dorne, all anyone talked about was the monster that had been born to Tywin Lannister. A head twice the size of his body, a tail between his legs, claws, one red eye, the privates of both a girl and a boy."

Tyrion forced a smile, though it was joyless. "That would have made things so much easier."

"When we met your sister," Oberyn said, leaning forward, "she promised she would show you to us. Every day we would ask. Every day she would say, ‘Soon.’ Then, finally, she and your brother took us to your nursery, and..." He paused, his gaze intense as he spoke the next words. "She unveiled the freak."

Tyrion’s expression remained stoic, though you could see the faint hurt in his eyes. Oberyn continued, his voice cold but full of truth. "Your head was a bit large. Your arms and legs were a bit small. But no claw, no red eye, no tail between your legs. Just a tiny pink cock. We didn’t try to hide our disappointment."

Oberyn’s face hardened as he remembered the moment. "That’s not a monster," I told Cersei. "That’s just a baby."

You swallowed hard, fighting the wave of emotion as you listened. You knew cruelty well—perhaps better than anyone in that room.

"And she said," Oberyn continued, his voice heavy with disgust, "‘He killed my mother.’ Then she pinched your little cock so hard, I thought she might pull it off. Until your brother made her stop. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she told us. ‘Everyone says he will die soon. I hope they are right. He should not have lived this long.’"

You felt a lump in your throat as tears threatened to well up in your eyes. How cruel could Cersei truly be?

Tyrion’s voice cracked slightly, though he tried to keep his tone casual. "Well... sooner or later, Cersei always gets what she wants."

"And what about what I want?" Oberyn’s voice was sharp now, full of purpose. "Justice. For my sister and her children."

Tyrion’s gaze darkened, his voice low. "If you want justice, you’ve come to the wrong place."

"I disagree," Oberyn said, rising to his feet. The flickering torchlight cast deep shadows on his face, highlighting the fierce determination in his eyes. "I’ve come to the perfect place."

You watched him closely, your heart racing. You knew what was coming, but you were powerless to stop it.

"I want to bring those who have wronged me to justice," Oberyn continued, his voice steady, each word a promise. "And all those who have wronged me are right here. I will begin with Ser Gregor Clegane, who killed my sister’s children and then raped her with their blood still on his hands before killing her too."

Oberyn turned to Tyrion, his voice echoing in the dim cell. "I will be your champion."

Your heart plummeted, the weight of his words crushing you. No. You’d seen it—the vision that haunted your every step. Oberyn’s demise. His fate, as cruel and certain as the tides.

As the heavy door creaked open, the flickering torchlight danced across the stone walls, casting deep shadows in Tyrion’s cell. You watched from the darkened corridor, your breath shallow as Oberyn stepped out, the light fading with him as the door slowly shut behind. Darkness swallowed the room once more, the soft click of the latch sealing the quiet tension that hung in the air.

For a few heartbeats, you stood there, your hand pressed against the cool stone wall, the lingering warmth of Oberyn’s presence still felt in the space he had just left. Then, with silent determination, you slipped into the cell.

Tyrion, huddled in the shadows, looked up at the sound of your approach, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. The small torch outside barely cast enough light to illuminate your figure as you slowly pulled back your hood. His tense expression softened with relief.

“I thought you were an assassin sent by Cersei to kill me,” Tyrion murmured, his voice a mix of dry humor and genuine fear.

You tilted your head slightly, a faint, cold smile playing on your lips. “You’re wrong on one of those things.”

Tyrion’s face tensed, the weight of your words unsettling him for a moment. His sharp mind was already working through possibilities, but before panic could fully settle in, you took a step closer.

“I’m not here to kill you,” you said softly, your voice calm but with an edge of bitterness. 

Tyrion let out a shaky breath, his shoulders easing slightly as he watched you carefully. You walked across the small cell, the sound of your steps soft on the cold stone. Taking a seat near one of the wooden poles, you leaned back against it, the silence between you both thick with unspoken truths.

“Do you recognize me?” you asked, your voice low, a challenge hidden in the question.

Tyrion furrowed his brow, studying your face. “You’re one of Sansa’s maids,” he finally said, his tone uncertain.

You nodded slowly. “Just a servant, if anything. But yes.” Leaning forward, you began rolling up your sleeves, exposing your arms in the pale sliver of moonlight that crept through the small barred window. The scars, the burns, every mark of torment etched into your skin told a story of survival. 

“Do you know the rumors?” you asked, your voice harder now.

Tyrion’s face shifted, a shadow of horror crossing his features as realization dawned on him. “You… you survived…”

Your eyes, cold and lifeless, met his. A small, bitter smile flickered on your lips as your jaw clenched. “Yes,” you said, leaning back against the wall, your arms folding across your chest. “Your reputation becomes rumors, and rumors become your reputation. That’s how it works, doesn’t it?”

Tyrion swallowed, clearly unsettled by the weight of your words. "Did you… did you poison Joffrey?" His voice was quiet, but the question held a note of accusation.

You shook your head, your expression flat. “No. I may have set the plan in motion, but they caused their own ruin.”

Tyrion’s eyes searched yours for deception, but when he found none, he nodded, accepting your words as truth.

“No one recognized me, not for the longest time,” you continued, your voice quiet, introspective. “Until… Prince Oberyn. Of course, he would. Every bit of information about his sister’s death... he sought it all. His own kind of hell.”

Tyrion remained silent, watching you closely as you spoke. 

“I sometimes wonder,” you mused, your eyes distant as you stared at the stone floor. “The solidarity between victims, and the solidarity between perpetrators. Which of them is stronger?”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, the sound hollow. “I’ve spent years in this place. Pouring wine, slicing pies, fetching, folding. Day after day, step by step. Every moment leading to this point.” You scoffed softly, your frustration evident. “Keeping myself going… it’s exhausting. I’m so tired of it.”

Tyrion exhaled shakily, his eyes filled with a deep understanding of that particular weariness.

“Oberyn… he has been kind to me. He is the only joy in my unfortunate life,” you said, your voice softening at the mention of him. “He has eight daughters waiting for him. Depending on him. I can’t let him throw his life away. Not for this.”

Tyrion’s brow furrowed, confusion and disbelief crossing his features. “So… you plan to kill me yourself, then?” His voice held a strange mix of resignation and curiosity.

You shook your head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “No.”

Tyrion’s confusion deepened as you met his gaze, your voice steady as you spoke the next words. “I will be your champion instead of Oberyn.”

For a long moment, there was only silence. Tyrion stared at you, incredulous. “Forgive me for saying this, but… Oberyn would never allow a lady such as yourself to fight a beast like the Mountain.”

Your eyes darkened slightly, a flicker of something dangerous flashing across your face. “You of all people should know what it means to be underestimated, Lord Tyrion.” Your voice was cold but not unkind. “It just means I have nothing left to lose.”

Tyrion’s gaze softened as he understood the gravity of your words. This was no grand act of heroism. No selfless gesture. “I’m not fighting for you,” you admitted, your voice low. “This is purely selfish. Oberyn deserves justice, as much as I do, but I can’t let him die. Not when I’ve come this far. I will die on my own terms.”

“He has a chance. How are you so sure that he will—”

“I’m sure. I’ve seen it. Gods, I’ve seen it.”

Tyrion studied you for a moment longer, his face unreadable. “And how, exactly, do you plan to convince Oberyn to take your place?”

You smiled then, a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Leave that to me.”

The door to your quarters closed behind you with a soft thud. You leaned against it, letting out a long sigh. Tomorrow would be the day—victory or defeat, life or death. The weight of it pressed down on your chest, heavy as armor.

You took a step forward, lost in thought, when a figure in the shadows caught your eye. Heart racing, your hand instinctively reached for the dagger hidden beneath your cloak.

“Oberyn?” you breathed, startled. 

He emerged from the darkness, leaning casually against the wall with that familiar, mischievous grin. “Relax, little dove. If I wanted to surprise you, I’d have done a better job,” he teased, his voice smooth and playful.

Your breath caught in your throat. The sight of him here, in your private space, unnerved you—but not in the way you expected. “What are you doing in my quarters?” you asked, trying to steady yourself, your pulse still racing. 

Oberyn’s smile widened as he pushed away from the wall and stepped closer. “I came to see you. Is that not allowed?”

“I—” you stammered, the shock of his sudden appearance blending with the rising tension in the room. “You scared me.”

He chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. “Good. You’re far too comfortable sneaking around King’s Landing. It’s time someone made you nervous.” His tone was light, but there was a warmth in his gaze that made your heart ache.

Your momentary fear melted away under his charm, but then your mind shifted, weighed down by the question that had been gnawing at you. You couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“Oberyn,” you began, your voice growing serious, “have you known all along that I… approached you on purpose?”

His teasing expression faded, replaced by something softer, more knowing. “Yes,” he said quietly.

You blinked, thrown by his straightforward answer. “Since when?” you asked, stepping closer, your voice lowering. “How did you find out about the connection between me and your sister?”

Oberyn watched you for a moment, as though weighing how much to reveal. “I knew every detail of when and how she died along with every single rumor,” he said, his voice soft yet deliberate. “And you—” he gave you a small, almost fond smile—“you seem to be around the age that the child who served her would be now. I figured it out the moment I heard your accent.”

His words hit you like a sudden gust of wind. You had been careful, so careful, but of course Oberyn had seen through you.

“I knew from the start you would want to use me,” he continued, his voice like silk, though there was no accusation in it. “The brother of Elia. It made sense. When I put all the pieces together, I realized I was the man you needed. The one who would do your bidding without question.”

You swallowed, his words twisting something deep inside you. “And you were fine with that? Knowing I was using you for my revenge?”

He smiled, a sad, knowing smile. “I told myself I’d be of use to you. That I’d come running whenever you wanted to use me. Wherever it was, whatever it cost.” His dark eyes held yours, no longer teasing. “But I wanted to be there before your guilt caught up with you.”

Your breath hitched, the honesty in his voice cutting through your defenses. You tried to speak, but the words tangled in your throat. Oberyn’s hand brushed lightly against your arm, the touch grounding you.

“When your sister died,” you finally whispered, “I thought I’d find someone to latch on to. So I approached you. Then I realized something—how could I even think of doing such a thing, just because I’m a victim? You’re a victim too.”

Oberyn’s gaze softened, and he let out a slow breath. “For a moment I thought I wasn’t your type,” he said, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “But now… you have no reason to use me anymore. If you refuse me, it’ll be for love. Not for revenge.”

Your chest tightened as his words washed over you. Tears welled in your eyes, the weight of tomorrow’s trial pressing down like an iron hand around your throat. You knew what you had to do, the price you’d pay to save him.

Your voice trembled as the tears slipped down your cheeks. “Then… help me. Until the end.”

Oberyn stepped closer, cupping your face with one hand, his thumb brushing away a tear. His dark eyes held yours, filled with a tenderness you hadn’t allowed yourself to see before. “I will serve you,” he said, his voice a quiet promise, “until the end.”

KING’S LANDING, RED KEEP – EARLY MORNING

The first light of dawn filtered through the narrow window, casting a soft glow over the room. You had half-expected Oberyn to have slipped away in the night, seeking the comfort of Ellaria or losing himself in his vices. But when you woke, he was still there, lying beside you in the small, cramped bed that barely fit you both. His arm draped around your waist, holding you close as though he couldn’t bear to let you go.

The night before had been unexpected—no grand seduction, no teasing beyond his usual wit. Instead, you’d stayed up talking, sharing dreams and desires you thought long buried beneath the weight of revenge. It had been… peaceful, in a way you hadn’t known in years. For once, sleep had come easily, a deep and untroubled rest. But now, the morning was here, and with it came the knowledge of what you had to do.

You shifted carefully, trying to untangle yourself from his embrace without waking him. Oberyn mumbled something in his sleep, his grip tightening briefly before loosening as you gently pulled away. Slipping from the bed, you began dressing quietly, moving with the practiced ease of someone who had learned long ago how to move in the shadows.

As you buckled your tunic, you felt his eyes on you. Turning, you found Oberyn watching you from the bed, his dark eyes half-lidded and full of sleepy mischief. “Leaving me already?” he teased, his voice a husky murmur. “I was just getting comfortable.”

You couldn’t help but smile, though your heart ached with the weight of what you were about to do. “Someone has to get ready for the day,” you replied, forcing a lightness into your tone that you didn’t feel.

He sat up, the blanket falling from his chest as he stretched lazily. “You know, you could stay a little longer… I wouldn’t mind.”

Your throat tightened, but you masked it with a chuckle. “I’m sure you wouldn’t,” you said softly as you crossed the room. The closer you got to him, the harder it became to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

Oberyn reached for you as you approached the bed, his fingers brushing your wrist before you leaned down, capturing his lips in a kiss. It was passionate, raw, as though it carried every unsaid word between you—every regret, every longing. For a moment, you allowed yourself to drown in it, to feel the warmth of his skin, the press of his lips. But you knew you couldn’t stay there.

With a soft gasp, you pulled away, your heart hammering in your chest. His eyes were still clouded with desire, his breath uneven, when you whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Before he could react, you pressed your fingers to a pressure point at the base of his neck. His body stiffened for a heartbeat before his eyes rolled back, and he slumped into unconsciousness. Your hand trembled as you laid him gently on the bed, your chest tight with the enormity of what you’d just done.

Tying him up was harder than you expected. The sheets you wrapped around his wrists felt like chains around your heart, binding you to this moment of betrayal. But it was necessary. He couldn’t stop you, and you couldn’t let him die for you. Not today. Not when he had so much left to live for.

You left a note by his side, your hand shaking as you scrawled the words. You told him the truth—Dorne needed him, his daughters needed him. He had a future. But you… you were already ruined, with no family, no purpose left beyond vengeance. If things had been different, perhaps you would have let yourself love him fully. Perhaps you could have been more than the ghosts of your pasts. But now… now you had to see this through, and he couldn’t follow you into the fire.

When you met Serena in the hall, she was waiting with a worried expression. You pressed a pouch of coins into her hand, whispering instructions she already knew. “Untie him when the trial ends,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "He must live."

Tears welled in her eyes, and she gripped your hands tightly, her voice breaking. “Please… don’t die. Come back.”

The words struck you harder than you expected. For a moment, you stood frozen, unsure of how to respond. She pulled you into a hug, clinging to you as though she could stop you from leaving, from walking into the jaws of death. Slowly, almost hesitantly, you wrapped an arm around her, patting her back awkwardly. “Thank you,” you whispered, the words heavy with finality.

KING’S LANDING, FIGHTING PIT – DAY

The bells tolled in the distance, a grim reminder that the day had arrived. Tyrion shuffled out toward the arena, his chains clinking with every step. The Lannisters watched from their seats, and Ellaria stood nearby, her eyes scanning the crowd for Oberyn.

You stepped into view, the sunlight glinting off your armor. It was simple but well-made—light enough for movement, but sturdy where it mattered. No helmet yet, your hair loose as the breeze tugged at it. A dagger was strapped to your thigh, hidden from view, while your hand rested on the hilt of a long, slender sword—a weapon you had saved for, piece by piece, over the years. 

Tyrion’s gaze flicked to you, his brow furrowed with worry. “Look like very light armor,” he commented dryly.

You shrugged. “Not really.”

The Mountain loomed on the other side of the pit, fully armored and wielding a massive sword that seemed to cleave the air as he moved. Ellaria’s eyes widened as she looked between you and the towering figure before her. “You’re going to fight that?” she asked, alarmed.

You let out a sigh, your grip tightening on your sword. “Hopefully, I’m going to kill that.”

Ellaria’s hand shot out, gripping your arm. “Where is Oberyn?”

You met her gaze, your eyes steady. “He’s safe. I swear it.” You paused, glancing at the Mountain and then back at her. “Take care of him.”

Pycelle’s voice rang out across the arena, ancient and raspy. "In the sight of gods and men, we gather to ascertain the guilt or innocence of this… man, Tyrion Lannister. May the Mother grant them mercy. May the Father give them such justice as they deserve. And may the Warrior guide the hand of our champion..."

Tywin, bored and impatient, gestured for the fight to begin. The horns sounded, echoing through the arena.

You met Tyrion’s gaze one last time. He nodded to you, his voice barely audible as he whispered, “Good luck.”

You gave a small nod in return, your hand tightening on your sword hilt as you stepped into the pit. The Mountain loomed ahead, but this wasn’t about fear anymore. This was about survival, vengeance, and the weight of every choice you had ever made.

Today, you would fight. And one way or another, everything would change.

MAIDENVAULT, GUEST CHAMBERS

KING’S LANDING, RED KEEP — DAY

Oberyn awoke slowly, blinking against the morning light that filtered through the window. A dull ache settled in his neck, and when he tried to move, he found his arms pinned, bound to the bed with sheets tightly knotted around his wrists. His mind raced for answers, and then it hit him—you. He had kissed you, and then… darkness.

The sound of soft footsteps drew his attention. A young woman stood by the door, wringing her hands nervously. She was small, her eyes wide with a mix of guilt and fear. Oberyn narrowed his gaze, his voice hoarse. "Who are you?"

"I—I'm Serena," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I’m… a maid. She—she told me to wait until after the battle. I promised."

Oberyn’s heart pounded, realization dawning on him. “Untie me,” he demanded, his voice steady but urgent. “Now.”

Serena shook her head, biting her lip, tears welling up in her eyes. “I can’t. I swore I wouldn’t, not until it was over. She made me promise. I—I’m sorry.”

Oberyn tugged against the bindings, frustration growing with each passing moment. His eyes scanned the bedside table, where a crumpled piece of parchment lay. His heart clenched. “What is that?” he asked, his voice barely a breath.

Serena hesitated, then stepped forward, placing the note in his hand.

Oberyn quickly unfolded the paper, recognizing your hurried scrawl. His eyes moved over the words, and with each line, the pit in his stomach deepened.

Oberyn,

By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. I couldn’t let you fight, not when so much depends on you. Dorne needs you, your daughters need you. You have a future, Oberyn. I can’t let you throw it all away for my revenge.

This is my fight, not yours. I’ve been ruined long before we met, and there’s nothing left for me but this. No family, no husband, no purpose beyond this one thing.

If things had been different, maybe we could have found a better life together. But now, all I can do is ask for your forgiveness. You were the one good thing that happened to me, and for that, I thank you.

Serena will untie you when the trial ends. Don’t come after me. Please. Live, for Dorne, for your daughters. For the future you still have.

Goodbye, Oberyn.

The note trembled in his hands as Oberyn read it, his heart shattering with every word. His chest tightened, breath coming short as if the air had been stolen from him. "No," he muttered, shaking his head. "No, no, no!"

He turned to Serena, his voice breaking. “Untie me. I beg you. I have to stop her.”

Serena’s eyes filled with tears, her lip trembling as she clutched the hem of her dress. “She—she made me promise. I’m supposed to wait until—”

“Damn the promise!” Oberyn roared, his desperation clawing at the edges of his voice. “She’s going to die, Serena! Do you understand that? She’s going to die, and I can’t let that happen. Please. Please, untie me. I can save her.”

Serena’s hands shook violently, her resolve crumbling. She looked at him, at the raw pain in his eyes, the pleading in his voice. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she struggled with the weight of your last request. “She said Dorne needs you,” Serena whispered. “She said you have so much to lose. I—I can’t...”

Oberyn’s voice cracked, softer now, filled with a grief that was almost unbearable. “I’ll lose her. Don’t you see? If you wait… it’ll be too late. I’ll lose her forever. She’s… everything. Please… untie me.”

Serena’s hands moved to the bindings, her fingers trembling as she hesitated one last time. “Promise me… promise me you’ll save her,” she whispered, choking on her sobs.

“I swear it,” Oberyn said, his voice raw with emotion. “I swear on my life. I will save her.”

With a deep breath, Serena finally gave in, loosening the knots and setting him free. As the sheets fell away, Oberyn leapt from the bed, his heart racing as he grabbed his cloak, his mind already on the trial and the bloodshed to come.

Serena watched him go, her hands trembling, knowing that she might have just sent him to his death.

KING’S LANDING, FIGHTING PIT — DAY

The sun beat down on the fighting pit, the crowd's chatter falling into murmurs as you stepped into the arena. Eyes followed you, curious, some confused. You were no one to them, just another faceless fighter stepping up to die. But you felt the weight of their stares, especially the piercing gaze of the Lannisters, high above on their platform, surveying the pit like vultures. They didn’t know who you were, not yet.

Your eyes found the Mountain, hulking and monstrous, towering over you with cold indifference. You raised your voice, cutting through the air, “Do you know who I am?”

Gregor Clegane’s laugh was deep and cruel. “Pity,” he spat, his voice loud enough to carry across the pit. “Some dead whore.”

He lunged. His sheer size made the earth quake beneath your feet, but you were ready. You dodged, his sword cleaving through the space you had been a heartbeat before. He was fast, impossibly fast for someone of his size, but you had spent years preparing for this moment. All those nights spent training, fighting men four times your size, all of it led to this.

As you spun out of his reach, you screamed out to the crowd, “I was the maid of Princess Elia Martell!”

A ripple of whispers spread through the spectators. The name Elia Martell always had that effect, even here in King’s Landing. The Mountain charged again, his blade whistling through the air. You blocked his strike, feeling the force of it reverberate through your arms, but you pushed back, slashing at the vulnerable joints in his armor. The soft spots.

Gregor stumbled but recovered quickly. He came at you again, enraged. “I'm going to hear you confess to all these people before you die,” you spat, circling him. “Tell them how you raped her. How you murdered her. How you killed her children.”

His next attack was brutal, a wild swing that glanced off your arm, leaving a burning line of pain. You gritted your teeth, ignoring the blood soaking into your sleeve. You were faster, smaller. You had to be smarter. And so, you fought, with the fury of someone who had waited their entire life for this moment.

“You raped her!” you screamed again, your voice ragged with rage and pain. “You murdered her! You killed her children!”

You moved in, quick as a viper, stabbing him deep in the gut. He faltered, his massive body reeling from the blow. But you knew better than to get close to a wounded beast. He caught you off guard, his enormous hand closing around your throat. You gasped, your sword clattering to the ground as you struggled in his grip. The world narrowed, the crowd’s roar fading into a dull hum as your vision blurred.

But then, with a final burst of strength, you reached for the daggers hidden at your thigh. In one swift movement, you sliced through the ligaments in his knees, then his ankles, his elbows, his shoulders—every joint you could reach. The Mountain dropped to his knees, immobilized, his weapon far from his reach.

The crowd gasped. You kicked his sword aside, watching as he floundered, his monstrous frame now reduced to helplessness. You sliced off his right hand, the brutal act met with stunned silence from the spectators.

Your boot pressed down hard against his throat, your voice raw with fury. “Confess!” you shouted, eyes blazing as the crowd murmured in shock. Leaning in closer, your voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “You may have forgotten but these people haven’t.”

The Mountain coughed, blood splattering from his lips, but still, he refused. So you pressed harder, forcing the confession from his broken body. “Confess!” you screamed, your voice cutting through the stillness.

“Elia Martell,” he rasped, his voice thick with blood. “I killed her children. Then I raped her.”

Your chest heaved, your body shaking as you stood over him, your heart pounding in your ears. “Do you remember me now?” you asked, seething, your voice a low, dangerous whisper.

Gregor’s eyes flickered with the faintest recognition, and then he growled, his voice thick with venom. “You’re the bitch I burned. I burned you, and I enjoyed every moment of it.”

The words hit you like a slap, a fresh wave of rage rolling over you. But this time, it wasn’t uncontrollable. It was cold, calculating. “That’s right,” you muttered, your eyes narrowing as you stared down at the man who had haunted your nightmares for so long.

Gregor Clegane, the monster you had spent your life waiting to kill, was bleeding out before you. The crowd was silent, frozen in shock, their disbelief palpable. You could feel their eyes on you, but you didn’t care. This wasn’t for them.

“Ser Gregor,” you sneered, “death is too kind of a punishment for an animal like you. I’m not a good person—I plan on becoming worse every day. But today, I will be kind.”

With that, you raised your longsword high and brought it down, severing his head with a clean, decisive stroke. Blood splattered across your face and armor, but you didn’t flinch. You stood there, breathing heavily, caked in dirt and blood, staring down at the lifeless body of the Mountain.

The crowd erupted into chaos, screams and cheers echoing around the pit. But you barely heard them. You turned slowly, your gaze drifting to the platform where Lord Tywin and Cersei stood, their faces pale with shock. They hadn’t expected this. No one had.

As you began to strip off your armor, the crowd’s cheers faded into a stunned hush. Piece by piece, you removed the heavy metal, letting it fall to the ground until you stood in the pit, exposed. Your skin, marred and scarred, told the story of your past, of the torment you had endured. The crowd gasped, some weeping at the sight of you. But your eyes—your eyes were empty, a void where once there had been pain. Now, there was nothing but calm.

Oberyn pushed through the throngs of people, heart pounding, eyes wild with panic as he scanned the crowd. The moment he stepped into the pit’s edge, his breath caught in his throat. His world stopped. You were there, in the middle of it all, a figure painted in blood and dust, screaming out for justice with a voice that could tear the heavens apart.

His heart clenched painfully at the sight of you, fury blazing in your eyes as you danced around the Mountain’s monstrous frame, every strike of your sword precise, every movement a testament to the fire that burned within you. You had trained for this. You were prepared. But watching you battle the creature who had haunted his nightmares, who had torn apart his sister and everything Oberyn held dear—it was more than he could bear.

His body surged forward on instinct, but Ellaria’s grip tightened around his arm, her fingers digging into his skin. “No,” she whispered, her voice trembling with fear and anguish. “She’s chosen this.”

Oberyn’s breath hitched, his mind warring with itself. How could he stand here, watching the woman he cared for, the one person who seemed to understand his pain, fight alone? His every instinct screamed at him to run to you, to stop this madness, to be the one to end it for you. But Ellaria was right—this was your choice. You were fighting not just for Elia, but for yourself.

His prayers, silent and desperate, echoed in his mind. Keep her safe. Please, gods, let her live.

And then, just as the Mountain loomed over you one last time, bloodied but still alive, you moved like lightning. One moment, you were in his grip, your life hanging by a thread, and the next, you were free, your daggers flashing like vengeful stars as you cut him down, piece by piece, until the Mountain—the monster who had destroyed so many lives—fell to his knees, defeated.

Oberyn blinked, his heart in his throat, as the Mountain’s confession rang out across the arena. “Elia Martell. I killed her children. Then I raped her.”

A sickening wave of relief and horror washed over him. It was done. The Mountain had confessed. But you—gods, you were still standing, barely. Covered in blood and dirt, your scarred arms laid bare for the world to see, the evidence of the hell you had endured etched into your skin.

Tyrion, still chained but now free of the weight of death, was weeping with joy, unable to believe the miracle before him. You had won. The gods had chosen justice—your justice.

But Oberyn’s eyes flickered to the Lannisters. Lord Tywin, sitting stone-faced on his perch, his knuckles white as he gripped the armrest of his chair. Cersei, beside him, her face a twisted mask of rage and disbelief. Their plans had crumbled before their eyes, and there was nothing they could do.

“The gods have made their will known,” Tywin said at last, his voice cold and measured. “Tyrion Lannister, in the name of King Tommen of the House Baratheon, First of His Name, you are hereby granted mercy.”

The words dripped with bitterness, but Tywin could do nothing to change the outcome. His gaze shifted to you, and the venom in his eyes was palpable. He stared at you as if he could will you dead on the spot, but you, bloodied and exhausted, raised your chin defiantly. Your shoulders straightened, and despite the pain, you walked with purpose, never looking back at the crowd.

Oberyn could see the weight of the battle on you, the way your steps faltered slightly as you moved toward the edge of the arena. But before you could collapse, before your body gave in, you found him.

“Oberyn,” you breathed out, a ghost of a smile on your lips, just as your vision blurred, the world spinning out of focus. You reached for him, and he ran toward you, catching you before you fell.

“My beloved,” he whispered, cradling your head in his arms, panic flooding his veins. He pressed his forehead against yours, his voice thick with emotion. “Stay with me. You’ve won. You’ve won.”

But your vision darkened, his face fading into shadows as you whispered, barely audible, “I’m sorry. For all of it. I’m sorry.”

Then everything went black.

Oberyn held you tighter, his heart racing as he carried you away from the pit, the cheers of the crowd fading into a distant roar. Ellaria trailed behind him, her face streaked with silent tears. And as the sun began to set over King’s Landing, Oberyn prayed once more, but this time, it was not for vengeance.

It was for you.

A FEW DAYS LATER...  

KING'S LANDING, RED KEEP — DAY

You inhale slowly, your eyelids fluttering open as a heavy fog of disorientation lingers. The cushion beneath you feels impossibly soft, too luxurious to be real, and the silk sheets that drape over your body are unfamiliar against your skin. For a moment, you wonder if you're still dreaming. Blinking against the blurriness, you take in the room—this isn't your quarters. It’s far too grand, too opulent. The deep burgundy tapestries hang from the walls, trimmed with gold, casting the space in a warm, regal glow. 

Your confusion deepens as your gaze drifts around the room, eventually landing on the man seated beside you, his presence both grounding and comforting. Oberyn. His dark eyes are focused entirely on you, a mixture of concern and anger etched into the lines of his face. He’s holding your hand tightly, as if letting go might mean losing you.

When he notices your eyes fluttering open, his grip tightens, his thumb brushing over your knuckles with a kind of desperation that makes your heart clench.

“You scared me,” he murmurs, his voice low and hoarse, strained by emotions he usually keeps in check. The frustration bleeds into his words, but there’s an overwhelming sense of relief as well. His brow is furrowed, and for a second, it seems like he doesn’t know whether to scold you or hold you closer.

He leans in without hesitation, pressing his lips against yours in a kiss that is both gentle and fierce. His hand cups your cheek as though he’s afraid you might disappear if he doesn't hold on. There’s a warmth in the kiss, but you can feel the anger there, too—the worry that he almost lost you, the unspoken terror that gripped him during your absence.

As you pull back from the kiss, your head still spinning, you can’t help but think of Ellaria. The question tumbles from your lips before you can stop it. “Wait… Ellaria…”

Oberyn sighs, his thumb still grazing the back of your hand as if to soothe away your concerns. “No…” he begins softly, his voice gentler now, though the tension in his posture remains. “We—both of us—have things to discuss.”

You shift beneath the covers, the comfort of the sheets doing little to ease the guilt that's settled in your chest. "I didn’t mean to cause problems,” you whisper, your voice small, barely above a murmur. 

His eyes soften as he watches you, his grip tightening for a moment before loosening again. “It wasn’t you,” he reassures you, his tone filled with a sincerity that makes your heart ache. “None of this was your fault.”

But still, the weight of it all lingers. You can’t shake the feeling that you've upset the delicate balance between them, between you, and the heavy silence presses down on you. "It kind of feels like it," you admit, your gaze dropping to the silk sheets beneath your fingers as if avoiding his eyes will make it easier.

Oberyn studies you for a moment, his intense gaze never wavering. When he speaks, his voice is soft, coaxing, but there’s a thread of steel underneath, as though he won’t let you hide from this. “What is it? Tell me.”

You hesitate, the words thick and difficult to force out. It feels vulnerable, admitting this to him. But you’ve never been one to shy away from the truth, and Oberyn deserves that, at least. You take a shaky breath. “I don’t like to share,” you confess, your voice barely a whisper as you look up at him, afraid of what you might see in his eyes.

For a moment, there's silence. Then, a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips—not mocking, but understanding. “Ah,” he says softly, a faint chuckle escaping him, though it holds no malice. His fingers lace through yours more tightly, and he raises your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “You don't need to worry about that right now.”

His tone is light, almost teasing, but there’s something deeper in the way he looks at you. Something reassuring. “We’ll figure it out,” he adds, his voice calm, steady, as if this problem is not insurmountable, as if you and he could face anything together.

You can’t help the way your heart warms at his words, at the way he so effortlessly defuses your fears with that simple, quiet confidence of his. You offer him a tentative smile, still feeling a little raw, a little unsure, but his presence, as always, is enough to make the world seem just a little bit easier to face.

For now, in this moment, the tension fades. It’s just the two of you, hands intertwined, the weight of your worries shared between you. And somehow, that’s enough.

Everything seemed to be falling back into place, except for one thing—you couldn’t stay. You had already resigned from your position as a servant to the Lannisters, knowing it was only a matter of time before they dismissed you.

That morning, after bidding farewell to your duties, you left a good sum of gold for Serena, thanking her for all she had done. It wasn’t nearly enough to repay her, but it was all you had. She had been your silent ally, and you owed her your life.

You had recovered well enough, and when the time came, you scribbled a note and left it on Oberyn’s desk. Just a few words, playful but loaded with meaning:  

“Do you want to come see the ocean with me?”

The sun was sinking into the horizon, casting the sky in soft shades of gold and lavender as you and Oberyn strolled along the coast. The sea breeze brushed against your skin, cool and salty, but comforting. It tousled your hair, lifting the loose strands in gentle waves. Beside you, Oberyn’s hand was warm, his fingers entwined with yours as he led you along the shore. His voice, rich and smooth like velvet, floated through the air, serenading you with a Dornish love song. His words, though foreign, melted into the air, wrapping around you like a familiar embrace.

You looked up at him, his face glowing in the fading light, his eyes reflecting the endless ocean beside you. In his presence, the world seemed smaller, quieter. The chaotic din of King's Landing, the bloodshed, and the weight of everything that had come before—it all faded into the background. Here, it was just the two of you, walking along the edge of the world.

Oberyn’s arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer as he leaned down to kiss your temple. “You look peaceful,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against your skin. 

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his affection settle deep in your chest. "I feel peaceful. For once," you whispered, your eyes meeting his, drinking in the tenderness you saw there. 

As the two of you made your way to a small dock, you found an old crate to sit on, the wood weathered and worn by years of salt and sea. You sat side by side, legs dangling off the edge, sharing a bottle of Dornish red wine. The world around you felt infinite—expansive ocean stretching out before you, stars beginning to shimmer in the twilight sky, the rhythmic lull of the waves breaking against the shore.

The wine was sweet, its taste lingering on your lips as you passed the bottle between you, laughing between sips, sharing stolen kisses in between stories. Oberyn’s hand slid along your back, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. He was so close, and yet, for the first time, you felt the distance growing. 

There was a part of you that ached, knowing how this perfect moment would end.

You leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder. “Oberyn,” you murmured, your voice quiet, barely louder than the waves.

“Hmm?” He turned his head slightly, pressing a kiss into your hair.

You closed your eyes, inhaling his scent—the mix of sun and leather, and something uniquely him. For a moment, you just listened to the sound of his heartbeat, steady and sure. You wanted to bottle this moment, to keep it forever, but you knew that was impossible.

“I love this,” you whispered. “I love… you.”

Oberyn smiled against your hair, his lips brushing your skin. “And I you.”

You stayed like that for a long time, the two of you wrapped in the silence, the kind that didn’t need words. The sky above grew darker, stars spilling across the night like scattered diamonds. Everything felt right in that instant, perfect even. But you knew better than to believe in perfect endings.

When Oberyn stood to fetch more wine, you watched him walk away, your heart already breaking with every step he took. He looked back, flashing you a teasing grin, unaware of the storm brewing inside you. You held on to that image of him—happy, carefree, the man who had brought light into your world.

You waited until he disappeared into the distance before you moved. You pulled the small seashell from your pocket, the one you'd found on the shore earlier. You placed it carefully beside the note you had written earlier, your hand trembling as you set it on the crate where you had shared so many stolen moments with Oberyn.

Your breath caught in your throat as you re-read the words you had scrawled:

“We’re at the final destination. This is the end. Goodbye.”

The weight of it all settled over you as you stood there for a moment, staring out at the endless sea. Your heart ached in a way you couldn’t describe, torn between love and the inevitability of your decision. You closed your eyes, letting the wind caress your face one last time before you turned and walked away, leaving only the note and seashell behind.

By the time Oberyn returned, laughing with another bottle of wine in hand, you were already gone.

He looked around, the smile slipping from his face as he called your name. Panic crept into his voice as he scanned the dock, eyes landing on the seashell and the note. His hand trembled as he picked it up, his heart hammering in his chest as he read the words.

The bottle of wine slipped from his grasp, shattering on the ground, just like his heart.

ATOP THE CLIFFS — EVENING

The wind howled as you stood at the edge of the cliffs, looking down at the jagged rocks and the sea below. You had built a small fire, watching as the flames consumed the journal you had written in for years—pages full of unsent letters, regrets, and broken dreams. The smoke curled into the twilight sky, taking with it the pieces of you no one had ever seen.

Tears streamed down your face as you whispered into the wind, "I hope that in the end, whether I’m in the world or not, your world will be full of me. I want you to resent every moment of your life so much that you feel it deep in your bones. Let me do that. I’ll be the one who kills me."

The ocean roared beneath you, the cliffs standing as silent witnesses to your final moment. You stepped closer to the edge, the weight of the world lifting as you prepared to let go.

But then—  

“Help! Please help! Save him!”

You turned slowly, tears still blurring your vision. Standing at a distance was Ellaria Sand, her face stricken with panic. Her voice trembled as she called out, “If this is the end you were preparing for, then you should already know. What if… Oberyn chooses this end too?”

You stood frozen, silent, tears streaming down your face as Ellaria took a cautious step toward you. Her voice was thick with emotion as she continued, “I met with Serena. She told me about you. She told me everything—about where you came from, how you ended up here.”

Ellaria’s voice cracked as she pleaded with you. “This isn’t the way things should end. When Oberyn told me he wanted to help you get revenge, I gave him my permission. So please… give me your permission to save your life today.”

You could barely breathe, your chest tight with grief and confusion. 

Ellaria’s eyes were wet with tears as she took another step forward. “Whether I have to hang on to you or jump with you, I will save you. I need you to help him—help Oberyn escape his hell so that he can choose to live.”

You stared at her, your tears flowing freely now, and your gaze drifted back to the ocean, where the sun had almost dipped below the horizon. Stars began to streak across the sky, as if the gods themselves were watching, waiting for your decision.

End Notes:

Okay OKAY LISTEN LISTEN, I know it doesn’t make sense that Ellaria shows up there. It’s all fantasy. But if we assume that there were tiny bits of divine intervention here and there, she could appear on those cliffs because she wanted to save you.

TAGLIST:

@greenwitchfromthewoods @shessweetsour @christinamadsen

[jukeboxsweethearttt]

Introducing Cherry!Reader

“If you die first, I’ll crawl into your coffin and close the lid.”

Paired with Serial Killer!Pope

Content warning please read

This au will contain incest (Pope and Cherry are cousins if you don’t like it I advise you to block me stop reading now and move on), Strong Religious imagery, mentions of murder, corpses, death etc. And just to be safe necrophillia. (they’re fucking around dead bodies)

Requests for this au OPEN/closed

Divider Credits @starfxkrinc ofc<3

Cousins. Soulmates. Sinners.

Cherry doesn’t talk much. Not because she can’t, but because words are too shallow for what she is.

But Pope understands her. Every tilt of her head, every lash of her tongue against her teeth, every little hum that vibrates in her throat when she’s aroused or annoyed.

She’s created an entire private language with him made of sighs, pouts, glances, finger taps, and slow, almost teasing hand movements.

It’s intimate. Sensual. Dangerous.

He translates for her. At the mortuary front desk, to grieving families. In town. In bed.

“She says she understands your pain,” he tells a woman mourning her daughter, while Cherry stands behind him with her hands folded, eyes dark, expression unreadable.

But Cherry didn’t say that.

She said, That bitch is faking it. I can smell it.

And Pope who is the only one who knows her smiles so softly when he lies for her.

To anyone else, she’s mute. Mysterious. Terrifying. But to Pope? She sings in silence.

They have a private, secret language an unholy code of glances, movements, skin to skin symphony.

One blink, and he knows she’s hungry. One drag of her nail along his wrist, and he knows she wants to watch tonight.

He speaks for her in public. He orders her coffee. He signs paperwork for her at the DMV.

If someone dares to address her directly, she just tilts her head with that sweet little smirk.

Pope always answers with a quiet, amused, “She said no.”

When Pope talks to clients, Cherry just sits behind the front desk, legs spread under her velvet skirt, eyes locked on him. And if she blinks three times slowly he knows she’s soaking wet.

Knows she needs his hand between her thighs. Knows she wants him to finish the meeting and bend her over the casket in the prep room.

They are cousins, but the line has always been blurry. She’s been obsessed with him since they were kids watching him dissect frogs in the backyard, whispering to him about the dead like they were mutual friends.

He was her first crush, her first obsession, and eventually, her first partner in crime.

She’s curvy, and always a little too bare for a workplace surrounded by corpses.

Her eyes are dark, dreamy, hooded with something that says I’ve watched people die and felt nothing.

Her voice is slow, syrupy, with a deep southern lilt like a preacher’s daughter who’s just learned how to sin.

Her nails are always blood red, her thighs peeking out from garter belts beneath sheer black dresses, and there’s always a small vial of some stranger’s ashes tucked in the lace of her bra.

They grew up together in a house full of secrets. Always too close. He was the first boy to see her in a slip.

She was the first girl to watch him skin a deer and say, “Do it slower next time.” Even back then, they shared a language of glances and bruised silences. A language no one else could understand.

When Pope took over the mortuary, he didn’t expect Cherry to show up the next morning in a black minidress and blood colored lipstick, saying “You need someone at the front.

Let me be your pretty little gatekeeper.” He didn’t expect to want her at all but the way she leaned on the counter, licking cherry candy off her fingers, made it impossible to say no.

Now they live in the same house behind the mortuary, separated by just one thin wall and a thousand unspoken things. They say they’re cousins when people ask. But if anyone looked too closely. They’d see her lipstick on his collar. Or the bite marks she leaves on his back after hours.

She wears sheer stockings and vintage slips instead of scrubs. On the rare occasions she speaks she answers the phone like it’s a hotline to hell.

“Thank you for calling Heyward Mortuary. Death never sleeps, and neither do we.”

She files death certificates while popping cherry flavored lollipops between her lips.

She crosses and uncrosses her legs slowly when people walk in.

She winks at widowers. Smiles too wide at grieving wives.

She tells Pope who deserves an extra deep grave.

When she’s bored, she sits in the embalming room with her legs swinging off the counter, talking about which bodies are the prettiest.

“You know,” she coos, tracing her finger along a corpse’s jaw, “she almost looks like me.

Maybe if I die young, you’ll keep me here. All cold and soft for you.”

And Pope stoic, brilliant Pope just grits his teeth and tells her to get out. But she never does.

Cherry isn’t just his receptionist. She’s his accomplice. His little helper. His sin incarnate.

She’ll distract a client by sitting across from them, legs spread slightly under the desk, toes curling as Pope finishes the embalming in the back.

When a body comes in, she strips it with him. Slowly. Reverently. Sometimes she kisses their mouths before they stitch them shut.

She’ll perch on his lap, grinding against him while he fills out death certificates.

His pen never wavers.

He’s used to multitasking when it comes to her.

They’ve fucked on every surface in the funeral home. Pope pulling her panties to the side as she lays still in a coffin, his name in sign language against his chest.

When someone needs to be taken care of, Pope handles the messy part. The slicing. The draining. The disposing.

But Cherry? She watches. Sits pretty in the corner in her heels and sheer robe, legs spread just slightly.

She always starts touching herself when the blood hits the floor.

He doesn’t even stop her anymore.

Sometimes, mid slice, Pope will pull her to him, lift her onto the prep table, and fuck her with his gloves still on, the scent of formaldehyde in the air, the body still warm beside them.

He fucks her into the metal, making her cry without a sound, her mouth parted and breath fogging the cold surface while she scratches her nails into his back like a woman possessed.

She follows him everywhere in the mortuary, barefoot, in lingerie under see through gowns.

She keeps clippings of his hair in a silk pouch.

She once stole a photo of him and stitched it into her pillow.

She wears his boxers under her dresses. Leaves lipstick marks inside them before she puts them back.

Has a tiny tattoo on her inner lip his name, of course. Because she likes knowing she has his name inside her at all times.

She doesn’t exist without Pope. And she doesn’t want to.

He records her moans during sex and plays them while he works alone.

He keeps a necklace with one of her used lipsticks inside the pendant.

He has a photo of her asleep in a coffin. Naked. His handprint on her thigh. It’s locked in a drawer. He looks at it more than he should.

He talks about her like a ghost “She’s not like other girls. She’s mine. She’s sacred.”

He lays her on the autopsy table, straps her down “for fun,” and makes her wait until she’s crying mouth open, no sound, just shaking and dripping and needing.

He puts her in his lap during meetings with grieving clients. Her little hands busy beneath the desk while he pretends not to notice.

She’ll sit on his face in the viewing room, veil still over her face, the flickering candles the only witnesses.

She once laid herself inside a coffin and motioned for him to close the lid.

When he opened it again, she was touching herself, looking up at him with glassy eyes. He took her right there, next to the real corpse.

When she wants to be punished, she lays across the metal table and carves little marks into her stomach with a scalpel until he grabs her wrists and makes her stop.

Then he makes her beg with her body.

He bends her over his desk while the cremator roars. She whispers prayers while he pulls her hair.

She calls him “Popey” in that breathy, taunting voice when she’s on top, riding him like she’s summoning something darker than lust.

Sometimes, she slips into the mortuary at night with nothing but a robe on, climbs into the prep room while he’s embalming someone, and sits on the table next to the corpse legs spread, hair damp, eyes wide with sick devotion.

“Do me next,” she purrs.

“Practice on me.”

They’ve had sex on the casket lift, on cold steel tables, even in the hearse after a funeral.

Pope calls her “sick,” but he never stops her.

Because Cherry makes him feel alive.

And she’s the only one who really sees him.

A small exhale = I want you to ruin me.

Thumb on his wrist = We’re being watched.

A certain blink pattern = They’re lying. Kill them.

Tongue between her teeth while looking at him = Take me to the basement. Now.

Back arch, slow stretch, toe pointed = I need you. Right here.

Sometimes Pope will just be mid conversation with a grieving family, and

Cherry will glide past him, brushing her hip into his side slow, intentional. He’ll start talking faster.

His voice will catch. His palms will sweat.

The families think he’s just nervous. They have no idea he’s picturing her on her knees in the back.

Pope doesn’t just love her he worships her.

When the sun sets and the doors lock, he takes her downstairs and strips her slowly.

She always smells like roses, embalming fluid, and death. He buries his face between her thighs like she’s the altar and he’s praying for forgiveness.

She’s silent even when she comes, just trembles all over, her nails dragging blood raw lines down his back.

Sometimes she holds eye contact the entire time. Doesn’t blink once. It terrifies him.

He loves it.

She writes “MRS. POPE HEYWARD” over and over in her grimoire. Then she fingers herself over the page.

Red silk slip under a long black funeral dress.

Wet look lips, bitten raw and shiny.

Lacy white ankle socks in Mary Janes, or nothing at all.

Her eyes always look half lidded, like she’s just been kissed or just killed someone.

Under her dress bruises. Scratches. Bite marks. Pope’s fingerprints on her thighs like shadowy reminders of last night’s ritual.

Cherry doesn’t just see the dead. She seduces them. Talks to them in the cold embalming room like old lovers.

Says things like, “You should’ve let go, sweetheart. This world’s mean. I’ll make you beautiful again.”

She wears crucifix necklaces between her breasts, not because she believes in Jesus, but because she likes the look of holiness stretched across her sin. She prays after sex.

Not for forgiveness but for more. She says rosaries when she’s jealous. She lights candles and moans Pope’s name like he’s something to be summoned.

Every time they take care of a body, Cherry watches. She perches like a crow in the corner, barefoot, eyes wild.

She’ll run her hands across the dead’s arms like she’s reading them.

Then she’ll look at Pope and nod once.

This one deserved it.

You did good.

You can fuck me now.

She’s always soaked after they kill someone. It’s ritual. She fingers herself while he cleans the tools.

He can hear her from across the room, those soft, sticky wet sounds mixed with her quiet, needy hums.

Sometimes he joins her.

Sometimes he bends her over the sink and makes her moan without a voice.

They’re rotten. Sweet. Silent. Feral.

They are death and desire wrapped in silk and funeral fog. And when they look at each other, it’s like watching two wolves licking the blood from each other’s teeth.

They’re not in love.

They’re possessed.

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

~*~

1. Hi! For the next ITMF can you recommend me a protective sibling JYL and JWY. I want them to tell LWJ if he just want to fight/berate/scolding WWX, he better stay away from WWX because of LWJ's attitude not only hurt WWX feeling but hurting WWX reputation and social standing.

Bonus if they team up with WQ and WN

Another bonus if they are angry at LXC at forcing a situation where LWJ and WWX forced to be together when LWJ is not ready to accept his own feeling. They are angry because it only benefit LWJ (he learn to deal with his feeling and socialize) and hurting WWX. Thank you! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

could you find a way to let me down slowly, if you’re leaving baby let me down slowly by ravenditefairylights (M, 36k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Reveal, Implied/Referenced Sex, Miscommunication, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Dynamics, Hurt WWX, Mutual Pining, Unreliable Narrator, Self-Esteem Issues, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Feels, Protective Siblings, Trauma, Slightly dubious consent, courtesy of drunk sex, Inventor WWX, Genius WWX, Phoenix Mountain, Chronic Pain, Getting Together, Fix-It of Sorts, One Braincell Trio, PTSD) 

~*~

2. Hello! First of all thank you for all your recommendations, my brain would probably rot without them. Do you know any fic where wwx has to marry/court/fake marry lxc but is in love with lwj, with the first jade knowing this and absolutely supporting it?

still left with the river by TooSel (E, 77k, WangXian, ChengQing, Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fix-It, Arranged Marriage, Political Alliances, Yílíng Wèi Sect, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Jealousy, Infidelity, Adoption, Angst with a Happy Ending, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation Sect Politics) still left with the river is pretty damn close

~*~

3. ITMF: Hello! I recently read “Turn Left” and it gave me lots of Twin Jades of Lan feels. I’d love to read more fics where LWJ + LXC are separated while young and reunite as adults. I’ve read “we could turn the world to gold,” but those are the only fics I know of with a long-lost-brothers premise. It doesn’t need to be the whole focus, but I’d like something emotional that explores LWJ + LXC’s relationship. No incest, please, and if LWJ has romance I’d prefer wangxian endgame. Thanks so much!!

Across the street to another life by danegen (M, 99k, wangxian, modern, unleashed au, Family Fluff, Set in America, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Addiction, Crime, Amnesia, Ableist Language, another fridged mother, POV Alternating, past wwx/ofc, past wwx/omc, Medium parent YZY, A-Yuan is wwx's biological son, Musicians, Happy Ending) nowhere near the focus of the story, as lwj and lxc were separated very young, but i found it interesting anyway

The Dreams of Youth by sami (E, 85k, WangXian, YZY/TLJ, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Fix-It, Family, Not Lan Sect Friendly, Bad Dads, good dads, JFM's A+ parenting, Qingheng-Jun's F- Existence, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Sort Of, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Some People Live/Not Everyone Dies, Canonical Character Death) This technically happens in the Lan Zhan only part of the Same Moon Shines series

~*~

4. Hope you guys are well!! IITMF Dark Lan Wangji being super protective of Wei WuXian.

Bonus if it's Dark Gusu Lan being protective of our bunny. Please rec only completed fics or the ones that are regularly being updated. 

Thank you ~ @tinyfoxpeach​

A Matter of Time by mrcformoso (E, 44k,  WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, POV LWJ, POV JC, Dark LWJ, Manipulation,  Grooming, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Consensual Underage Sex, Except  problematic please read warning in first chapter, Blood and Violence, Insane LWJ, Manic LWJ, Conditioning, WWX is a Lán, Minor Character Death, Confused JC, Golden Core Reveal, Good Friend NHS, WWX Isn’t Adopted by the Jiāngs, Abusive Jiāng Family, Jiāng Family Bashing, Jiāng  Family Critical, POV NHS, Dark NHS, Anal Sex, Marathon Sex, Dual Cultivation, Qīnghéng-jūn Lives, LWJ Has a Big Dick, WWX Self-Lubricates, Plot Twists, Porn With Plot, Scheming NHS, Manipulative  NHS, BAMF LWJ, BAMF WWX) link in #14

💖 Hoards and treasures by  apathyinreverie (T, 21k, WangXian, Siblings, Family, not particularly Jiang friendly, YZY Bashing, slightly darker Gusu Lans, LXC being the   best brother, Some manipulation, But with the best of intentions, and   not between wangxian, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Smitten LWJ, Fluff, perfect   happiness, adorable WWX, Romance, Some worldbuilding, courting)

~*~

5. I’m in the Mood for a Fic where WWX can use LWJ sword maybe LWJ can also use his, it doesn’t have to be the main point of the story. It could just maybe be a little moment in a bigger story would be great as well @zerokogane​

when you’re doing all the leaving (then it’s never your love lost) by tardigradeschool (T, 26k, wangxian, canon divergence, hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, sharing clothes, sharing a bed, fix-it, golden core transfer) has a few moments where WWX gets to wield Bichen

come home to my heart by occultings (microcomets) (M, 29k, WangXian, Bodyswap, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, First Time, Getting Together, Confessions, Sharing a Bed, Misunderstandings, and a little bit of hurt/comfort as a treat)

❤️ Gentians in bloom by teawater (M, 251k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, AU after cold spring, Political Marriage, Dysfunctional Family, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, LQR bashing (not really), POV Multiple, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Eventual Happy Ending, BAMF WWX, JC is actually a lot better than canon, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, YZY bashing (again not completely)) has something like that at one point if i remember correctly 😊

~*~

6. I just want to ask , is there a fiction where wei wuxian dies at xuanwu cave @random-online-reader​

Blood of the Black Earth by wirevix (M, 16k, wangxian, JC & WWX, JC & LWJ, canon divergence, major character death, Xuánwǔ of Slaughter Cave, Sunshot Campaign, Sad with a Happy Ending, Ghost WWX, Monster WWX, Canonical Character Death, Although not at the canonical time, Grief/Mourning, Good Sibling JC, WIP)

~*~

7. A friend recommended I put a request. I'm in the mood for something like making out to hide from the bad guys, wangxian, modern or not, doesn't matter, I read Shifting Suspicion by scifigeek14 and loved it

~*~

8. #itmf in the mood for a fic where lan zhan is protective of wei ying in canon verse; but in a more direct way, like someone said something or did something ? and lan zhan is frost chill angered @wutheringskies

~*~

9. I’m in the mood for fic where A) it’s a Wangxian Disney inspired au of sorts anything works or B) Wangxian Detective au @selkie-hi​

9A)

all your life you'll dream of this by Attila (T, 22k, WangXian, Fairy tale, Cinderella Fusion, Pining)

Frog, Beast, Fish, Idiot by Attila (T, 3k, WangXian, Fairy Tale, DumbassesStarring in:, The Frog Prince, Beauty and the Beast, The little mermaid)

9B)

Keep Track of Losing Days by giraffeter (T, 74k, WangXian, NieLan, Modern AU, Case Fic, Mystery, Getting Together, Flashbacks, Detective LWJ, antifa WWX, Sharing a Bed, First Kiss, First Meetings, Seattle, Mutual Pining, nonfatal car accident, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers) wwx is missing and lwj is a detective

~*~

10. Hi! I have two requests for itmf. A) Anyone know of any good crow!WWX fics? I’ve had a craving for this recently. B) Also, I want everyone’s favorite modern wangxian fics pretty please! Thank you!

10A)

you by sami (T, 6k, wangxian, modern w magic, shapeshifter au, accidental baby acquisation)

💖 [insert bird pun here] by nienie (T, 7k, wangxian, canon divergence, Animal Transformation, Reincarnation, Thirteen Years of WWX's Death, Crow WWX, Light Angst w Happy Ending, Fluff, Light-Hearted)

❤️ chasing you by jaws_3 (T, 10k, wangxian, shapeshifting, identity porn, pining)

10B)

💖 Pentimento. by orange_crushed (E, 73k, wangxian, modern, college/university au, art conservation, museums, pining, not actually unrequited love, angst w/ happy ending, misunderstandings, smut, major character injury, hospitalization, hurt/comfort, past incarceration, forgery)

Come Around and Stay by trippednfell (M, 160k, wangxian, modern, slow burn, kid fic, found family, it gets worse before it gets better, PTSD, blood and injury,   dissociation, trauma, angst w happy ending, musicals, alternating pov, JC & WWX reconciliation, hurt/comfort, panic attacks)

together, we’re just enough by lulu_kitty (E, 134k, wangxian, past WWX/OFC, modern, younger LWJ, bartender LWJ, older WWX, rich WWX, fluff, yearning, smut, bottom LWJ, LWJ has scoliosis, slow burn)

With No Particular Affection by Chrononautical (E, 92k, WangXian, Modern AU, Arranged Marriage, Kid Fic, Miscommunication, Family Drama, JFM and YZY’s A+ Parenting, Good Uncle JC, Wedding Fluff, Genius WWX, Street Kid WWX, Homelessness, Rich LWJ, Oblivious WWX, Cinnamon Roll WN, Implied/Referenced Suicide, WWX Has a Pregnancy Kink, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst)

The Right to Care by travelingneuritis (E, 61k, WangXian, Modern AU, Mood Whiplash, musician LWJ, nanny wwx, Developing Relationship, Breakup, Texting, Pining, Eventual Happy Ending, Adoption, Child Abuse, abuse intervention, Miscommunication) 

Waiting for Spring by thievinghippo (E, 130k, WangXian, Modern AU, MLB AU, Baseball AU, Mutual Pining, Pining while fucking, slight angst, Happy Ending)

Tempo Rubato by Spodumene (E, 107k, WangXian, Modern AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Romance, Persuasion au, Separations, Mutual Pining, Depression,   Miscommunication, Emotional Roller Coaster, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Reconciliation, Eventual Smut, Jane Austen Fusion, Underage Kissing)

He is Wei Wuxian’s by devinokaze (T, 41k, WangXian, Modern AU, Celebrity, actor!wwx, singer!dancer!lwj, Social Media, Entertainment Industry, POV Outsider, Fluff and Humor)

You & Me Baby, We’ll Eclipse The Sun Series by 2501987 (M/E, 130k, WangXian, XiCheng, MIND THE TAGS, Modern AU, Mafia, Murder husbands, Torture, Possessive Behavior, Blood and Violence, Older JC, Younger WWX, Hurt/Comfort, Dark)

INSTAnt Attraction by CaliKayeTylers (T, 41k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, JGY/NHS, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, modern, Fluff, Meet-Cute, Getting Together, Age Difference, Mental Health Issues, Instagram Model)

Lan Zhan's University Days (JAFFY) by sami (T, 10k, wangxian, modern (with cultivation), immortality, University, outsider pov, Wei Wuxian is a chaos gremlin, ridiculous future bullshit, wwx vs Local Culture)

the minor fall, the major lift by Fleetling (T, 5k, wangxian, modern, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Musicians, Canon Divergence, Oblivious WWX, Good Sibling LXC, Supportive LXC)

To See You (Again) by FrameofMind, Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (E, 84k, wangxian, modern, London au, LWJ fucks, bottom LWJ, friends to lovers, self-discovery, pining, grindr, light bondage, experienced LWJ, less experienced WWX, straight boy WWX) link in #17

Truth Will Out (when caught on video) - End_OTW_Racism! by KizuKatana (E, 90k, WIP, wangxian, WN & WWX & WQ, graphic depictions of violence, modern cultivation, canon divergence, YZY abuses WWX , caught on camera, partial core removal, WWX kicked out of Jiang sect, livestreamer WWX, meet ugly, dual cultivation, smut, no war)

The Fifth Type of Non-Contact Force by Caixx (Not Rated, 83k, WangXian, Modern AU, High School, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Fluff and Humor, Actually Somewhat Canon, Mutual Pining, Horny Teenagers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Non-Graphic Smut)

~*~

11. helloooo, hope your day is lovely.

(i guess this would be a itmf) Do you have anything where past and future characters meet. any characters is fine but like hopefully they all meet as a group @twlaei​

A Room Full of Dead People by BurningBlueDiamond (T, 10k, wangxian, time travel, fix-it, but not really, canon divergence, Conference in Qinghe but canonically they stay in Gusu, pov outsider)

~*~

12. hello! please, for the next iitmf: song lan/xiao xingchen, preferably modern au, no song lan/xiao xingchen/xue yang, no abo, no mpreg. thank you!

~*~

13. for the next itmf, i was wondering if you have any fics set in novel post-canon before they return to cloud recesses? maybe about their elopement or getting married or just them being happy after finally getting together. thank you for your hard work!

Honeymoon Every Day series by Admiranda, Rynne (E, 103k, WangXian, Established Relationship, Married WangXian, Oral Sex, Snowballing, Hand Jobs, Blindfolds, Dom/sub Undertones, Soft WangXian, Frottage, Clothed Sex, Outdoor Sex, Fluff, Bathtub Sex, Riding, Cockwarming, Hair Washing, Post-Canon, Hair Brushing, Gift Giving, Case Fic, Drunkji, Masturbation, Dirty Talk, Pillow Talk, Post-Coital Cuddling, Come Marking, WWX is a Tease, Domestic Fluff, WWX's debatably self-lubing ass, Night Hunting, Grumpy Ghosts, meteor showers, Intercrural Sex, Non-Penetrative Sex, LWJ Has a Biting Kink, Rough Sex, Minor Masochism, Minor Sadism, WWX is a Brat, Face-Fucking, Anal Sex, Bondage, Forehead Ribbon Bondage, Nightmares, Mild Hurt/Comfort, WangXian Have a Breeding Kink, Mischievous WWX, Inventor WWX)

~*~

14. For an IITMF, can y'all rec me some LWJ time travel fics? Was thinking about Same Moon Shines series again, and now I'm craving some good LWJ going back in time, whether purposefully or by accident, and loving his Wei Ying properly from the start 🥺

A Matter of Time by mrcformoso (E, 44k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, POV LWJ, POV JC, Dark LWJ, Manipulation, Grooming, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Consensual Underage Sex, Except problematic please read warning in first chapter, Blood and Violence, Insane LWJ, Manic LWJ, Conditioning, WWX is a Lán, Minor Character Death, Confused JC, Golden Core Reveal, Good Friend NHS, WWX Isn’t Adopted by the Jiāngs, Abusive Jiāng Family, Jiāng Family Bashing, Jiāng Family Critical, POV NHS, Dark NHS, Anal Sex, Marathon Sex, Dual Cultivation, Qīnghéng-jūn Lives, LWJ Has a Big Dick, WWX Self-Lubricates, Plot Twists, Porn With Plot, Scheming NHS, Manipulative NHS, BAMF LWJ, BAMF WWX)

Looking at You Always, All Ways by Keysmashed (T, 29k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Nostalgia, Subtly Assertive LWJ, very mild angst, Angst with a Happy Ending)

A Narrow Bridge by FrameofMind, Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (E, 700k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, slow burn, getting together, first time, pining, pining while fucking, burial mounds settlement days, angst w happy ending)

Brother-In-Law's by Loveable_Psychopath (M, 324k, JYL/JZX, wangxian, JC/WQ, canon divergence, time travel fix-it, Memories, Butterfly Effect, Sexual assualt, Self Harm, Self Doubt, BAMF JC, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rape Recovery, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Everyone Lives au, PTSD, good parent YZY, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Canon-Typical Violence, Warning: JGS, Emotional Manipulation, Manipulation, Second Chances, WIP)

Unlikely Trio by YumichanHamano (T, 112k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, canon divergence, time travel, transmigration, Fluff, Attempt at humour, Some Canon Character Deaths, Cloud Recesses study days)

~*~

15. I'm struggling a bit atm so I've come crawling back for another ITMF request. Are there any fics that have rusong in them? Alive? Preferably complete (I know of at least 2 wips that haven't been updated in over a year)? And failing that, any where wwx and/or lwj adopt mo xuanyu? Thank you again for all your hard work and thank you to all the people that share their recs ❤ @theladypeartree​

🧡 Resplendence by FrozenMarVel ( E, 166k, WIP, WangXian, CS Lives, Rouge cultivator WWX, Crossdressing, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of sorts, Fluff, Explicit  smut) link in #17

Lan Xichen's Home For Politically Inconvenient Children by Lysces (T, 65k, LXC & LWJ, LWJ & LSZ, LXC & LSZ, JRS & QS, JGY/QS, JC/WQ, wangxian, JGY & LXC & NMJ, Canon Divergence, Post-Bloodbath of Nightless City, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Kid Fic, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Intentional Baby Acquisition, LXC pov, Canon Half-Sibling Incest, Minor Character Death, Off-screen torture, Aftermath of Torture, mild medical descriptions, Grief/Mourning, Necromancy, Adoption, good brother LXC)

~*~

16. itmf nmj/lxc centric fics! mentions of relationships with jgy are ok, but pls be endgame nmj/lxc and jgy getting kicked to the curb and/or getting his just desserts. tyvm!

Synced by theherocomplex (T, 23k, LXC/NMJ, scifi au, romance, falling in love, light body horror, character study)

found in translation by sysrae (E, 12k, LXC/NMJ, wangxian, modern cultivation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, not LQR friendly, Meddling brothers, Coming Out, Loss of Virginity, Under-negotiated Kink, slight breathplay, Light Dom/sub, Aftercare, Angst with a Happy Ending)

yeah it's true (that I fell for you) by ThirtySixSaveFiles (E, 7k, LXC/NMJ, modern, Online Dating, conference attendance, Mistaken Identity, Interfering Siblings, Sexting)

~*~

17. hello! for the next itmf, can you guys rec fic: a) wwx and lan qiren being besties, like they're in good terms, or something like lan qiren realizes that wwx is a genius. b) maybe your fav fic/s for this month, any tag/s is okay :)) thank you! @httpskaixx

17A)

💖  Lessons relearned by Iamnotawriter (T, 44k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Not Madam Yu Friendly, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inventor WWX, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, No Golden Core Transfer, YZY Bashing)

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 663k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement)

17B)

To See You (Again) by FrameofMind, Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (E, 84k, wangxian, modern, London au, LWJ fucks, bottom LWJ, friends to lovers, self-discovery, pining, grindr, light bondage, experienced LWJ, less experienced WWX, straight boy WWX)

Hua Xianle by Tiffany_Guinne (Not rated, 170k, hualian, wangxian, not jiang friendly, not YZY friendly, not JC friendly, not JFM friendly, WWX adopted by hualian, no golden core transfer, WIP)

🧡 Resplendence by FrozenMarVel ( E, 166k, WIP, WangXian, CS Lives, Rouge cultivator WWX, Crossdressing, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of sorts, Fluff, Explicit smut)

Ghost of Mine by SasukiMimochi (E, 113k, LSZ & WWX, LSZ & LWJ, LSZ & WWX & LWJ, wangxian, Golden Core Reveal, Gūsū Lán Forehead Ribbon, Demonic Cultivation, YLLZ WWX, Canon Temporary Character Death, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Supernatural Elements, Canon-Typical Violence, Post-First Siege of the Burial Mounds, Romance, Domestic Fluff, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide, Past JYL/JZX, WIP)

The water keeps on flowing by IsilmeLasgalen (E, 114k, wangxian, WKX/ZZS, BSSR/LY, JYL/JZX, MXY/NHS, Cultivation Sect Politics, YLLZ WWX, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiāngs, Gūsū Lán Sect Rules, LWJ pov, WWX pov, The mistery of Madam Lan, The Power of Communication, Soft wangxian, The Ghost Path, Yīn Iron, outsider pov, multiple pov, Protective WWX, Morally Gray WWX, Bottom LWJ, Smut, Shameless wangxian, Angst, Fluff, Everyone Lives au)

The Scarlet Lotus by rainbowninja167 (M, 137k, WangXian, Marriage of Convenience, Secret Identity, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Canon-Typical Violence, canon-typical war crimes, Yunmeng Bros, the mortifying ordeal of getting seduced by your own husband, nonlinear chronology we die like cql, just kidding nobody dies in this fic, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Miscommunication)

for you, andante by xuanxuanwo (ostentatiouslyrealistic) (T, 35k, WangXian, Modern AU, Music, Musicians, Pianist LWJ, Guitarist WWX, Kid Fic, Coffee Shops, Bookstores, Existential Crisis, Unrelated JGY & QS, Friendship, Romance, Light Angst, Happy Ending)

The Twin Blades of Yunmeng by GhostySword & ofmindelans (T, 82k, JC & WWX, wangxian, JC/NHS, canon divergence, JC & WWX, reconciliation, BAMF JC, protective LWJ, golden core reveal, angst w/ happy ending, slow burn, sect leader QS, WIP)

Hanlong by micratus (E, 282k, WangXian, Modern AU, Case Fic, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, But not only Cloud Recesses, Slow Burn, Oblivious WWX, Drunken Shenanigans, References to Drugs, Canon-Typical Violence, Action & Romance, Eventual Smut, Reincarnation, Humor, This is a translation, Modern with Cultivation)

burning camellias by AvoOwO (M, 284k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Prisoner of War, Genius WWX, Aftermath of Torture, Blood and Violence, Blood and Injury, BAMF WQ, BAMF WWX, BAMF WN, POV WWX, Hurt WWX, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Sentient Burial Mounds, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Attempted Sexual Assault, No Golden Core Transfer, WWX Has No Golden Core, Golden Core Destruction | Golden Core Melting, Poisoning, Protective WQ, Medical Torture, Cannibalism, PTSD, Dubious Consent Consent Issues, Heavy Angst, MIND THE TAGS)

~*~

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

[assortedseaglass]

Borne & Bound - II

[Masterlist]

Aemond Targaryen x OFC

Summary: When Prince Aemond insults the commander of the Braedel cavalry, Viserys sends him to their kingdom so that he may learn the art of diplomacy and do battle with the commander herself, the spirited Lady Geowyth.

Content Warnings: Strong Language, Violence, Smut, Canon-typical Sexism, Mentions of Incest¸ Mentions of Sexual Assault

Word Count: 3.3K

When Geodred Beridan smiled, the apples of his cheeks rose and pinched wrinkles formed around glimmering, beetle-black eyes. The smile was broad and often accompanied by a droll remark or gentle laugh; a shock to those who did not know him, for his broad shoulders and oaken height disguised a gentle-natured and respectable soul whose purpose, so he believed, was to live in kindness and good humour.

As he moved along the Red Keep’s stone walls, many a gentleman stopped to shake his hand in greeting, and many a woman smiled demurely as he passed. The heir to an independent kingdom and commander of their army, he stood tall and sure, feet firmly rooted wherever he found himself. As swift as he was to laugh, he was as quick with the sword. In his presence women found safety and assuredness. Men, counsel and quick wit. In short, when kindly Geodred Beridan had cause for alarm, it was not long before others’ anxiety grew and when he was in a good mood, those around him could not help but join in his merriment. This was most common in the case of his sister.

He found her in her chambers that morning, sat at a small vanity and fixing her hair as a maidservant talked gaily of her time at the Red Keep.

“-mostly, I am with the Princess. She’s ever so gentle. Couldn’t tell you who she takes after,”

Geowyth laughed. “She must be a wonder indeed if she finds herself in your good graces,”

“How do you mean, my Lady?” The young girl was turning down Geowyth’s bed.

“In service of the royal family, you must have seen it all. Every member of this household, the family and those who serve them, at their best and worst. I know I could not see the worst of people and still sing their praises.”

“As I can attest!” Geodred stepped into the room, arms folded across his broad chest. The maidservant curtsied to him. “Is that why I have not had a good word from you since we left Braedel?”

“Alma.” Geowyth addressed the maid. “Spend a week travelling across Westeros with my brother and I promise not even you could find something to defend.” At this, Geodred threw back his head and laughed. Alma smiled nervously. She had been sent to attend Geowyth as she had come with no maid of her own. Indeed, in Braedel the fashions were far simpler and practical than those in the capital and Geowyth had no need of a maid to dress her except in the case of her court duties, wherein any of her uncle’s maids would do. Geodred tutted at his sister and spoke to the young girl.

“Alma, is it?” The girl nodded. “Well, Alma. My sister is to be on her best behaviour during our stay.” Geowyth rolled her eyes and stood from the vanity. “As you seem such a good judge of character, I shall come to you at our visit’s end for a full report.”

“For Alma, I shall be as good as gold.”

Through her giggles, Alma asked if there was anything else the Lady of Braedel needed. At Geowyth’s declination, she excused herself from the room, eyes roaming over Geodred as she did so.

He watched his sister as she moved about the small guest chambers she had been granted. Her dark hair, usually down or plaited simply and been drawn back from her face in ornate braids. One hand fidgeted with the skirt of her burgundy dress as the other ran over the pages of the books open on the table at her bedside. She was muttering under her breath.

“Your hair is different.”

“Is it alright?” She span around, hand flying to check the braids.

“I have never known you to care-”

“Every girl cares. I asked Alma to do it in the Targaryen style.” Geodred nodded at his sister, a sad smile crossing his usually bonny face. Geowyth continued. “We both know that soon you will rule Braedel, and I will take your place as commander. I am fully aware that my attendance at this council is to prove to our uncle, and the rest of the kingdom, that I am capable.”

Geodred took his sister’s hands in his, and together, they made their way from her room towards the council chamber. “Are you nervous?”

“Very.”

“Don’t be. All you have to do is observe.”

“It’s being observed that makes me nervous.” The pair nodded their heads to a passing Maester as they carried on their progress. Geowyth heard from her brother the unmistakable huff of air that gave away his attempt to contain a laugh. “What?”

“As long as you mind your tongue, all you have to do is stand behind me and look pretty. And,” he continued as Geowyth opened her mouth to protest. “If you have anything you wish to say, counsel me first. They do things differently here. Look at Princess Rhaenyra.”

Even in the independent island kingdom of Braedel, tale of the princess’ deposition in favour of her brother sent ripples of fear throughout their society. Even more so when all but three of the Beridan family perished and eyes turned to Geodred and Geowyth, the sickly king’s remaining heirs. Could these children, one of them a girl, rule the kingdom? Perhaps the mainland way was better, do away with the women and leave it to the men.

The two fell silent, haunted by the ghosts of their family, and the task left to them in the wake of their deaths. The closer they edged to the heart of the Red Keep, that is, the Throne Room, a great din of noise fell on their ears. Servants scurried to and fro, preparing the cavernous chamber for the King’s name day feast. Breaking from her brother, Geowyth darted to the open doors. Tables adorned with candelabras, flowers and fabrics ran the length of the hall. Atop the vaulted steps, another table had been drawn across the room, lined with ornate chairs for the royal family. Geowyth counted eleven, twelve including the seat edging the table. It was as she was recounting the names of the royal household in her head that Alma hurried past with a basket of fabric. Catching each other’s eye, Geowyth nodded to the sword-strewn throne at the head of the hall.

“A little over the top, don’t you think?” At this, Alma smirked and hurried to join her fellow maids.

“Geowyth.” Geodred’s face had turned serious. “Widercwedan.” Let’s go. She took her brother’s arm once more they rounded the corner to the council chamber. Many men were already filing in, Lannisters, Baratheons and Hightowers among them.

“Deos forhtlic?” Who’s afraid? Geodred let go of his sister and she settled into place behind him.

“Not I,” she whispered to him, and together they entered the chamber.

Whatever Aemond Targaryen did that day, he could not escape this ghastly feast. Ser Criston was unable to spar with him in the training yard, as all King’s and Queensguard were either with their patrons or on duty. The library was not immune to the hubbub of the castle, and the volume of Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms he sought was missing, alongside the one book with any mention of Braedel. His mother had even forbidden him from riding Vhagar, such was his inclination to assure her he would be back within a few hours, only to return in a few days. And so it was that he found himself at his father’s name day feast, shunted to the end of the royal table, bored stiff by the day’s idleness.

Nobles stood around the royals, chattering excitedly as stewards and footmen removed tables for dancing. The band had not stopped their playing, and a few of the younger noblewomen were already jumping with glee. Indeed, at his own table Rhaena and Lucerys stood hand in hand, ready to lead the evening’s festivities. Aemond watched the boyish red of Lucerys’ cheeks grow as Rhaena inched closer to him. Watched how he beamed at the people below them, and how they smiled back. Saw how his father gazed, misty eyed, at his grandson. The scar beneath Aemond’s eye patch prickled with pain and he pushed his goblet away, no longer inclined to drink. A pale hand closed around the cup, and the chair beside Aemond screeched along the floor as a dead weight fell into it. Aegon raised his eyebrows to his brother and brought the cup to his lips. For a while, neither spoke. They settled instead, to watch their guests.

Jason Lannister was speaking spiritedly to Borros Baratheon, the latter sat somewhere between annoyance and fascination. Ser Tyland, bounced on the balls of his feet in embarrassment. The princes’ Hightower aunts and uncles had already found themselves a seat, watching Alicent with pride or else gossiping with Beesbury and the Tyrell delegation. Aemond sighed. He had not the proclivity for this aspect of royal duty; socialising. Nor dancing, for that matter, but he understood it from the not-so-subtle hints of his mother that enough was enough. The Baratheon girls were terrified of him, and the incessant giggling of the other young noblewomen was driving a headache. Perhaps Helaena would dance with him. Aemond turned his head to see her seat already vacated. Ah. Jacaerys had stolen her to the dancefloor.

The brothers watched her, all sadness fading from her face to be replaced by joy. The hesitancy that had lingered about her since marrying Aegon faded into some semblance of contentment as she danced with her nephew. Under the candlelight, her skin glowed gold and her hair shimmered like spun silk. It buoyed Aemond, to see her happy. When the dance was done, Helaena clapped the band with girlish light-heartedness, and began chatting animatedly to someone at her side. At first, Aemond believed it to be Jacaerys. It was not until his nephew took a step sideways to whisper in the ear of Lucerys however, that Aemond saw Helaena was not speaking to her dance partner, but the young lady of Braedel.

The woman’s hair, though darker than Helaena’s, was similarly styled. The long, frizzy strands of it cascaded down her back, a singular braid keeping it from her face. As they spoke to each other, their hair bustled about them and in the firelight looked like embers and sparks of flame. Where Helaena was bedecked in yellows and golds, the lady by contrast wore blue and bronze, and her eyes, that had rendered Aemond so completely speechless the day before, burned orange. It took Aemond a moment to realise how he could see their extraordinary colour from where he sat, but when Helaena led her towards the royal table, he saw the smearing of charcoal that lined them. Unlike the other ladies of court, who had enhanced their delicate beauty with rouge and powder, this woman had seemingly run her thumb in coal and brushed it across her face. Looking to the where her brother and the rest of her party stood, Aemond saw that they too wore this strange streak of black across their eyes.

“Are you not going to ask about the council?” Aegon had finished another cup and was growing bored of Aemond’s silence.

“As you are going to tell me, I see no need.” Still, he watched his sister and her companion. They approached the top table and Helaena took a seat next to her brother-husband. The Braedel woman curtsied before the king and queen, uttered something to which Viserys smiled, and made her way towards Helaena’s outstretched hand. She curtsied to the princes, Aegon briefly nodding in acknowledgement, and settled by the princess.

Over Aegon’s increasingly slurred babbling about the council, Aemond watched Geowyth. Though their voices were low, the two women spoke quickly, Helaena most of all and Geowyth’s eyes shone as she listened. Aemond noted that when Helaena momentarily withdrew, Lady Geowyth leant closer, or else held her hand near his sister’s in encouragement. Never had he seen Helaena so open with a stranger.

“- council’s just a load of old wankers trying to beat each other off, in more ways than one-”

The two women laughed at something. Helaena’s light like a bell peal, Geowyth’s hearty like her brother. Something akin to gladness settled over Aemond.

“-Aemond is a far better rider than Aegon or I, I think.” Every sense in Aemonds’ body keened. At Helaena’s words, Geowyth glanced to him. She smiled brightly as their eyes connected. Aemond looked away. Damn.

“- and it’s a wonder grandsire made mother marry father. You’d think, with the way he carries on, it would have been him in the wedding dress.”

“Aegon, please.” Aemond was finally starting to enjoy the day, intrigued by the woman before him. The last thing he needed was Aegon’s vulgarity.

“-though I must say, Lady Geowyth, the council was made much easier by your presence.”

Aemond’s head snapped up. Surely not. Was Aegon so drunk he couldn’t tell the tired old council from young noblewomen? His eyes flickered to Geowyth, shock shadowing his sharp features when he saw that the lady was smiling.

“I shall whisper it, for I don’t want to offend the court,” Geowyth leaned forward, eyes gleaming from beneath a curtain of hair. “But you must not have had a great deal of good company if you found my presence pleasant.” She punctuated her statement with a wink at Aegon as Aemond found his voice.

“You were at the council?” Geowyth smiled at him in gentle affirmation. “Why?”

Geowyth had not expected the bluntness of his query, but knew that sooner or later questions from the rest of the court would follow the council. Indeed, even some council members, namely a certain golden-haired lord, asked King Viserys the question as Geowyth flanked her brother’s seat at the table. She turned to the young prince, serious but still smiling and said simply, “I am my brother’s heir.”

“But second in line to the throne?” It sounded more like a question than a statement, a hesitant ponderance, as though he were trying to solve one of Helaena’s riddles.

“Yes, but with our uncle so unwell-”

“-and your brother is to marry soon, is he not?”

Realisation dawned on Geowyth. “Your Grace, Geodred is indeed to marry, and he and Folchild will rule well together. But if all those above us will it, he will have heirs long before our forebears take him. No, when our uncle dies and Geodred assumes his position as King, someone will need to take his place as commander of the renward.”

“I’m sorry?” The words were sharper than Aemond intended. The slight aghast shake of his head as he spoke irked Geowyth, but she clarified her meaning nonetheless.

“I will take my role as commander of the cavalry.”

“You?”

“Yes?”

“A woman?”

“Yes.” Though her voice was indignant, Geowyth felt she had been slapped. A clap of laughter escaped Aegon as his eyes darted between his brother and Geowyth with glee. Beside her, Helaena picked at the skin on her palm. Despite only being mere inches shorter than Aemond, Geowyth felt herself shrink. Already, the doubts of the kingdom were knocking at Braedel’s door. She steeled herself against the fire glowing in her chest. “I know it is hard to believe, Your Grace, when your dear cousin and sister were swept aside so easily. But that is not how things are done in Braedel.”

The hall became chill. Aemond was certain a gust of wind had ripped through the chamber and he looked briefly around. Nothing was changed. The guests were revelling in the royal splendour. His siblings were still at his side, one nervous and one neurotic. But when he looked back at the lady before him, he found the source of his discomfort. The light of nearby candles flickered in her amber eyes, and something of the would-be warrior woman haunted her face. Seven Hells. He tried to recover. Not to sound like a bitter child or obnoxious ass, but interested.

“And do you find yourself to be as adequate a rider and swordsmith as your brother?”

“Would you ask the same of your dragon riding sisters?”

“Sister.” His voice was firm.

“Pardon?”

“She is no sister of mine.” He grew silent, and Geowyth didn’t need to ask which sister he meant. She’d seen how he’d looked at Helaena. How he was looking at Princess Rhaenyra now, across the hall. Her eyes followed his and, as they scanned the crowded hall, landed upon her brother. He would make a good king. He could sense trouble, for he was looking at Geowyth with a mixture of assessment and warning. “Deos forhtlic,” she heard him say. It would not do to make enemies of the King’s children on the second day of her visit. Swallowing whatever retort was pressing against her lips, Geowyth tried a different tac.

“Do you dance, Your Grace? Perhaps you will join the princess and I in the next? I have seen many a girl looking hopef-”

“You’ll note, my Lady, that I only have one eye.” Aemond cut her off before she could finish and he was astonished when she began to laugh.

“Do you dance in circles?”

Aegon laughed louder than he had all evening, the wine in his goblet slopping onto the table. A little of the red splashed the sleeve of Aemond’s doublet and he looked down slowly. When his eye returned to Geowyth’s, it was cold and unamused. He looked down his eagle nose at her, steadying his feet as though readying for a fight, and Geowyth found herself breathless at the power that suddenly radiated from him. For the first time in her life, she felt truly small. She turned to Helaena. The princess had resumed the picking of her hands, her shoulders stooped and mouth downturned. She would not look at her new companion. Without a dance partner, and her pride decidedly dashed, Geowyth retreated into the crowd towards her fellow horse lords. Aemond’s gaze followed her, body humming with embarrassed rage.

“Shame you weren’t born in Braedel, brother.” Aegon slapped Aemond on the back as he made to hunt a more rakish kind of revelry. “You’ll just have to make do with being my spare.” Aegon made his drunken trail through the crowd. The newcomers bowed before him. Those used to court life at the Red Keep turned away, among them Ser Westerling and the princess of Dragonstone. Ser Harrold was deep in serious conversation with the Braedel beast Herumbrand, no doubt discussing military strategy and their glory days, and as Aemond watched them his Targaryen blood ran cold. For beside the guardsmen stood Rhaenyra, smiling at the guard who had always favoured her, and Lady Geowyth, her eyes bright with self-satisfaction as with a laugh, she turned away from him.

Notes: Split this in two so I could get a chapter out.The first sentence begins the same way a Far From the Madding Crowd. I love Thomas Hardy and I think his description of character is amazing, so I used it as a way to open the chapter.

In this world, Vizzy T is still alive, and Rhaenyra was ousted as heir when Aegon was born. I’ve said before that this will not be a canon compliant story. The background of the Beridan family and why Braedel keeps to itself will be revealed soon. Sorry it's taking so long, I'm not myself at the moment - will correct any mistakes when I've had a good night's sleep. Hilde x

Renward = horseguard/cavalry

Tags: @arcielee @mefools @bladeofdreadfort @glitterandgoldfinds @heimtathurs @ewanmitchellcrumbs @babyblue711 @wingeddeliciouscanonrebel @greenowlfactif @fantasias-creativebubble @httyd-marauders @sirenangelroyal

[drusies]

I think the point Jules Bongjoonheaux was trying to make was that the person was interested in one kind of taboo, but was afraid of judgement and neutered the story- despite the fact there was already an unhealthy power dynamic in place. so the hypothetical person was so hellbent on avoiding being "problematic" they changed one part of the story in a strangely specific way without getting rid of the actual "problematic" part- the power dynamic. so it's a humorous critique of people neutering their kink work to avoid something that the kink is centered around- in this case, a dangerous power imbalance- by just slapping a weird disclaimer on and not actually changing anything meaningful.

personally I like the idea you had about changing the dynamic and exploring that, it's super compelling and neat! it just wasn't really the point I think was being made in the original post. kink & kink fiction is really interesting to me so I hope this didn't come off as hate but more of an explanation!! because I can see where your interpretation differed from the intended one.

same anon as last, forgot a (very reasonable!) point you made- I think the person in the hypothetical didn't remove the age gap because they were uncomfortable, but to avoid judgement from others. the taboo is fun for some people- a friend of mine is into teacher/student and likes the dynamic at play, while I'm uncomfortable with the setting and specific power dynamics. if he were to remove the age gap (two adults ofc) or change the setting for my preferences, that wouldn't be cool because he's not writing for me! but me choosing a different setting or writing without the age gap is cool because I'm making that choice for my own comfort. sorry for rambling, I just got super hyped about being able to talk about this sort of thing! have an awesome day whoops sorry re: your latest post! same anon still. 😭 I'm a csa & incest survivor, and ended up with a massive CNC kink because of it, but ageplay and incest kinks trigger me. I was also exposed to extreme kink positivity at a young age, and I know how much it fucks someone up. that said, this is more of a hypothetical- in your ideal world, how would this be handled? personally I think that while sex isn't bad or inherently traumatic, the power dynamic we've built around it and how it's abused is incredibly traumatic and embedded into society. it's a balance that isn't easy to fix and I'm always interested in how different people approach the issue! sorry for all the asks, thanks for putting up with this haha

first of all thank you for reaching out and having a conversation about this! this is the kind of discussion i want to foster when i make public posts about contentious subjects. i'm not striking out at anyone, and i know i am not the only one with strong feelings on the subject, so i am doing my best to be respectful. i thought i was laying myself pretty low with my tone but its clear some feelings were hurt anyway 👼

for context i have seen a number of posts straight up bemoaning safety in kink that made me want to speak up about this one as it crossed my dash in the hours before i was ready to be awake. multiple times in the past months have i seen a post that reads like 'oh i wish we could go back to the good ol' days of fandom before we cared about giving comprehensive content warnings, and the pesky acknowledgment that the things in this fiction are in fact not safe in real life'. as well as that post thats like 'people who write bdsm play between fictional characters arent real sadomasochists, you are jerking off to shadows on a cave wall'.

so none of those things are things that bongjoonheaux said, and i would apologize for their post being the target of my ire that i chose to act upon, because it was emotionally fueled by some other stuff.

but i dont think the hypothetical person theyre making fun of is an issue to anybody. and i think this attitude of belittling people who would concern themselves with if their own actions are "problematic" is a symptom of a society that wants people to commodify themselves an any way possible, including sexuality, if it reinforces the correct ideals. maybe that hypothetical person thats ineffectively censoring themself does exist, but i think the more likely situation is what i described in my response, someone who is probably made uncomfortable by that particular aspect and is, albeit clumsily, catering their work to their own tastes. and i dont think erotica is necessarily the place to moralize, but i do think being conscious of the context in which your art is published is important, and fanfiction/fandom spaces are heavily populated with vulnerable teens and young adults figuring out their sexuality. and if you dont remember doing it yourself, i can tell you, lots of minors lie about their age to quietly (or actively!!) engage with adult content!

i would describe myself as kink positive, i want to be kink positive. but kinksters online seem to have this no true scotsman approach to things, like kink is only stuff thats consensual and good and anything that isnt is decidedly not kink, as if no one has ever utilized kink to abuse or exert control. porn is art and should be respected as an art form, but talking about it critically is taking me out of it and that's not fun. i think this kind of attitude feeds into the idealization of being "no limits". it creates this all or nothing dichotomy, like if you're entering a kink oriented space, you should be ready to accept being exposed to anything. i think this is why people feel the need to label themselves sht like pro/anti. like, i want to be able to criticize call of duty without being dismissed and accused of colluding with concerned mothers against video games. i do believe it is possible to invoke contentious themes for the purpose of titillation without rewarding and reinforcing oppressive ideals!

mostly i just wish people would be less vindictive lol. i dont think this is an issue that will be solved be legislation or having people upload their ids to view porn. but having the consciousness to think about who can access what youre publishing and who it may be shared with is something people should take responsibility for. i think human moderation or a small paywall can do a lot to ensure that sensitive content is only being viewed by those who really want to and really should be seeing that content. i think teens who are discovering themselves should have places where they can safely interact with peers, especially slightly older peers who will educate them with kindness and not judgement, where they wont feel pressured to pick a side so to speak.

so again, apologies to Jules Bongjoonheaux for directing my frustration with a general trend at their post. but i dont think its productive to make fun of content warnings, or the guy whos hamfistedly avoiding his discomfort with age gaps, or the guy whos like "and dont forget to wear a condom 🤗". "i cant believe i have to say this but" i can girl the state of sex education is in shambles!!!!

[neuship-zone]

Intro post + DNI and Userboxes

Heya, you can call me Damien. This is my sideblog. As you've probably guessed, I'm a neutralshipper. This is blog is dedicated to asking and answering questions about shipcourse, discussing darker topics in fiction, and ships/fandom stuff in general (because I am NOT clogging my main with that stuff).

The first week of every month will always be (mostly) shipcourse-free

Well, this is a new rule so take it with a grain of salt rn

I am multifandom, and I am willing to talk about ships in all media (provided they aren't incest, adult-child or FNAF because I dislike them), as well as general darker themes such as paraphillias and abuse in fiction (tagged with tws ofc). I may also talk about my own works/planned works when relevant.

Feel free to block any tags related to content you don't wanna see.

I always tag relevant fandoms. Feel free to block any that you don't want to see.

Asks are tagged #asks

Anon hate gets tagged as well

I post #hot takes where I'll yap about an opinion I deem unpopular for a bit

Shipcourse posts will be tagged #shipcourse with any relevant stances (eg proship) also tagged. The stances tagged do not indicate my views unless otherwise stated.

Posts about triggering stuff will be tagged as "tw _____" or "cw _____"

I DO like monster/robot x human and non-sexual selfcest (between adults ofc). I consider myself a lightshipper.

Occasionally I post about paraphilias and ask questions to radqueers. Such posts are tagged #pro para and #radqueer respectively, but please note that I am not a rq and don't really support them.

Here's a up-to-date list of all the fandoms I know I'm in:

This should go without saying but yes, I like TCOAAL and will post about it. If you hate that game, this is your warning.

I also occasionally post about the Boyfriends webtoon (although I don't consider myself a part of the fandom).

My pfp is a neuship/peacefic flag made by @slowlyshamelesscolor

My new banner is another neutralship flag made by @dupsydidahop

My old banner was a (likely unserious) anti-discourse flag made by @femmefarmer

Link is here:

Feel free to ask me questions about my views on shipcourse. All views are open for debate, but hate/harassment will NOT be tolerated.

Generally, I:

- am ship and let ship

- encourage blocking

- do not support darkships (i.e I don't encourage darkshipping. I don't actually care too much if you are a darkshipper)

- do not believe fiction affects people on a 1:1 basis (mainly because I'm an aroace fictosexual and so am living proof that that's kinda bs)

- am STRONGLY anti-harassment, pro-mental health, pro-para (and pro-recovery), and anti-xenosatanist

- will ask questions to anyone, even people I disagree with. I am always up for discussion unless the discussion is going nowhere and/or negatively impacting my health

!!! DO NOT SEND ASKS FOR DONATONS !!!

They will be deleted. I don't generally reblog donations, but my main blog, @felix-01000101 should have some there (including a masterlist of Palestinian/Gaza donos if you want them)

Note:

This blog uses the following definitions:

Proship - someone who is generally anti-harassment and SALS, and believes taste in fiction does not dictate IRL beliefs, may or may not like or support comships/darkships

Antiship - someone who believes fiction DOES dictate IRL beliefs, generally does not believe in SALS, may or may not be anti-harassment

Comship - A ship that is "complex" (Comship = complex ship). Examples include enemies to lovers and monster x human. A comshipper may or may not be proship.

Darkship - A comship that would be illegal in real life (eg incest, minor x adult), or otherwise problematic or "dark" (eg abuser x victim). Darkshippers are usually proship but not always.

Neutralship/neuship - Someone who is neither antiship nor proship. They may be antiship or proship leaning, but choose not to label themselves on either side.

(Note that these are rather loose definitions, since these are essentially labels people choose to use, and as with all labels, usage can get tricky)

DNI:

There is no DNI for this blog, but I block freely. Obviously, both antishippers and proshippers can interact, but I will not be making any posts or reblogging stuff that promotes darkships, as they make me uncomfortable and I don't personally support them.

Credit to @pleasantcherryblossomtreenight for most of these ^^

[diejager]

Hiiii I hope this doesn't come across rude but pls make sure you're consistently tagging stepcest or incest with the same tags on each post 😭 I have just about every possible iteration of the tags blocked and it still gets through sometimes or just isn't tagged at all, which can be especially frustrating when going through basic x reader tags

It's ofc not the end of the world, but it'd be majorly appreciated as I still enjoy your other writings while I'd rather avoid any -cest content, please and thank you in advance 🫶

Hallooo! That’s weird, cuz I always tag it with stepcest and incest, I always double check, but I might’ve missed a few here and there. I am forgetful as fuck ad have a very, very short term memory so that is completely my fault.

I’ll go check through every parts, but I know I’ll miss one or two, so -just in case you find any - could you send me the link for me to fix it?

And no, it didn’t come off as rude, you wrote this in such a cute way that I can’t even be mad :3 but pls, do let me know if you find anything that’s missing a warning tag.

[sjsmith56]

Lord Buchanan - Series Masterlist

Series completed.

A bit of a mashup, set in an alternate universe, where a modern woman finds herself stuck in a medieval world. She needs the protection of a powerful man (guess who?) to stay safe in this world as there is danger in many places for an unaccompanied woman. The people of the medieval world (with touches of the Renaissance) are also aware of the modern world through the visions of their sorceress. Magic is accepted as being equal to religion. All MCU characters except for two will have different identities in this story. The two will be revealed during the story. Much of this story will be suitable for 18+ readers only. Minors should not interact with this story. If you follow me and your bio does not indicate you are older than 18 you will be blocked.

Characters: Lord Buchanan (James Buchanan Barnes), OFC (named), King Steven (Steve Rogers), Queen Peg (Peggy Carter), Sir Samuel / Knight Commander (Sam Wilson), Bruce the Giant (Bruce Banner), Lord and Lady Stark (Tony and Pepper Stark), King Thorn and Prince Loke (Thor and Loki), Dr. Jane Foster, Sorceress (Wanda Maximoff), Garrison Commander Rhodes (James Rhodes), Archer Barton (Clint Barton), the Baron (Baron Zemo), the Dreykov sisters (Natasha Romanoff and Yelena Belova), Prince Arthur David Joaquin de Torres Walker aka Quin Torres (Joaquin Torres as a teenager), Duke John Walker, Lord Fury (Nick Fury), and others in brief cameos. The final character of note is not an MCU character but a horse, Magnus, the black stallion ridden by Lord Buchanan; Magnus is a central character in several plot lines.

Warnings: sexual content, violent content, misogyny, talk of slavery, talk of child abuse, talk of sexual abuse, talk of incest, forced arranged marriages, death. There is also love, valour, honour, truth, and attention to duty so it balances out quite well.

Previously published on Wattpad and AO3 platforms, under the username SJSmith56.

Novels/Collections Masterlist Tumblr Masterlist

Read past the break for chapter titles.

Chapter 1. A New World

Chapter 2. To the Castle

Chapter 3. The Feast

Chapter 4. The Duel

Chapter 5. Declarations

Chapter 6. A Time for War

Chapter 7. Time to Live

Chapter 8. The White Wolf

Chapter 9. Two Brothers, Two Kingdoms

Chapter 10. Decisions

Chapter 11. Magic Moment

Chapter 12. Coronation

Chapter 13. Tactics

Chapter 14. Friends in Need

Chapter 15. Setting Things Right

Chapter 16. The Way Home

Chapter 17. Heavens Above

Chapter 18. At Home in the Rocky Woodlands

Chapter 19. Hope and Friendship

Chapter 20. Meeting of the Minds

Chapter 21. Solidarity

Chapter 22. Two Steps Forward

Chapter 23. Three Steps Back

Chapter 24. The Sweet and the Bitter

Chapter 25. Radio Silence

Chapter 26. Across the Waters

Chapter 27. A Single Step

Chapter 28. Home

Chapter 29. The Danger

Chapter 30. Celebrations

Chapter 31. Revelations

Chapter 32. Destiny Calls

Chapter 33. A Matter of Honour

Chapter 34. Time for Love

Chapter 35. A Call to War

Chapter 36. The Gathering

Chapter 37. Time to Fight

Chapter 38. The Last Time

Chapter 39. A Shot in the Dark

Chapter 40. Reap What You Sow

Chapter 41. Coming Home

Chapter 42. A Time for Everything

Chapter 43. Epilogue

[duskier]

Hi, gorgeous! I'm here with questions regarding boundaries and how we interact with the blog. First and foremost, is there anything you'd like us to refrain from sending in? Any topics or dynamics you dislike and would prefer we don't bring up? Secondly, do you mind people sending in porn links (as long as there's warnings that that's what they are)? And lastly and more self-indulgently, are you still writing for sub/dubconned!Simon? I always really really enjoyed your take on it and I've never found another writer that wrote similarly about him lol. Thank you so much!!

Ignore the fact I'm about ten years late answering this very considerate ask !! Thank you for asking for boundaries and all :)

I won't post the following: ageplay, faux/incest, race "play", stuff regarding body fluids that aren't blood, spit, or cum (occasional piss but that is RARE for me) I don't like posting concepts where only one character is genderbent making a het coupling (queer superiority!!! (kidding... kinda...)) - This isn't me shaming anyone for what they like (except race play actually block me if you like that ty) it just isn't to my taste. There is also probably more I'm not a fan of writing or receiving asks on but that's all I can think of right now! (Also I would HOPE this goes without saying but nothing glorifying/sexualizing animal or minors sexual abuse, that is an immediate block.)

I am not a fan of receiving porn links unless I'm able to verify the person in the video's age. I don't consume it in my personal life unless directly from paid content creators due to both being an online nsfw content creator myself as well as abuse in the industry of both minors and adults. So.. if it is from a content creator directly promoting their work, sure!! Otherwise, I would prefer not.

Yes I love and adore Ghost being a sub and also yes I love writing/interacting with ideas of Ghost getting dubconned ofc <3 the brain juices just haven't been flowing recently tis all! I welcome any ideas people may have festering in their noggins.

[accentedstar]

╭────────────╯ ││ ✦ Table of Contents:✦ ││• Preface ││• General Rules ││• Triggers ││• Kinks ╰─────────── · · · · ✦

List below the cut!

Preface

Hello hello!! If you’re interested in roleplaying, please take a peek in here for my rules!

I have also posted further information about my favourite genres, tropes, and fandoms! Click on the respective word to be taken to those posts.

General Rules

ᥫ᭡. • 18+ only! I don’t feel comfortable roleplaying anything dark/nsfw with minors.

ᥫ᭡. • Must be female or nb! I have had really bad experiences with male roleplayers that made me feel unsafe and I do not want to risk a repeat :/

ᥫ᭡. • Have an idea in mind! I have lists of my favourite tropes, genres, and fandoms posted, so feel free to poke around those and see if you find anything you like! If you don’t see it on the list though, still feel free to ask! I like trying new things! But it makes it a little easier to start plotting if you come to me with an idea already in mind

ᥫ᭡. • Must roleplay on Discord! Tumblr’s messaging layout just isn’t for me.

ᥫ᭡. • I don’t mind group chats!! It’s pretty fun to get several role players together for one plot

ᥫ᭡. • OOC conversations!! I love to talk outside of rp and make memes, art, playlists, and aesthetics for our characters and roleplays, and more than that, I want to talk to you! I like getting to know my rp partners and form friendships!

ᥫ᭡. • Length. I’m not picky about how long replies are— Just a paragraph or two is okay! No one liners though. I’m semi-lit/novella depending on my motivation, but I personally stick to just a few paragraphs! Fluctuating length doesn’t bother me either. Write what you’re comfy with

ᥫ᭡. • Please write third person!

ᥫ᭡. • NSFW content is okay! However, I would like a good balance of plot with it.

ᥫ᭡. • And ofc basic rp rules: no godmodding, no meta-modding, etc

Triggers

I’m willing to get pretty dark with roleplay, but I prefer an OOC warning before anything occurs! These I refuse to do though:

ᥫ᭡. • Graphic descriptions of amputation ᥫ᭡. • Graphic descriptions of eye removal ᥫ᭡. • Suicide ᥫ᭡. • Graphic self-harm

Kinks

I am not above darker NSFW content. Dubious consent, manipulation, force, stuff like that.

This is a list of kinks I will NOT do:

ᥫ᭡. • Waterworks ᥫ᭡. • Incest ᥫ᭡. • Necrophilia ᥫ᭡. • Infantilization ᥫ᭡. • Roman showers ᥫ᭡. • Foot fetish ᥫ᭡. • Puppy play

Everything else is okay but please clear it beforehand!

Please DM or comment if you’re interested in roleplaying! :]

[suiteheart-hotel]

The neon lights of a love hotel beckon you... Will you be staying for the night? ♡

✎ navigation links coming soon! ૮꒰˵• ﻌ •˵꒱ა

. . . ♡ masterlist

. . . ♡ list of charas i can take requests for + how i would write them

. . . ♡ my tags!!

saccha.txt = text posts

saccha.png = mi art!!

🍓🌸🍓꒰ Saccha┆he/him/hole┆artist n writer!!! ꒱🍓🌸🍓

HIIIHIHIHI my name is Saccha!!! as in Saccha(rine) HEHEHEHEH

IM JUS A LIL OVEREXCITED TRANS PUPPY BOY RUNNIN A LUV HOTEL ,, there r a lot of aesthetics i wanna b associated w/, this intro post will prolly change over time lol

i wanted tew stretch out ma writing skillz n i have a lot of ideas i jus wanna throw out in2 da world,, scenarios i hope ppl would also enjoy n such!! ♡♡♡ just wanted to pump out x readers for the gayz tbh,,

as much as i love reading fempovs, i want 2 make food for other transmasc ppl like me ^w^ and also interact w/ other blogz!!! also sorry not sorry of my excessive use of colors and kaomojis lol!!

dis blog is where i will dump all my horny ramblings about

★⋆ Degrees of Lewdity (mentioning this game alone should indicate i dont mind dead dove stuff hfbhg)

★⋆ Call Of Duty MW2 (im only a very casual fan tho lol look man im a porn blog my content isnt gonna be that deep!!)

★⋆ The Last Of Us (specifically joel content bc im feral 4 him but im also feral 4 ellie,, WRITING ABOUT THEM SEPARATELY THO OFC LMAO)

taking requests for each >w<)b !!!

♡ ┆ stuff i will write ┆ ♡

★⋆ DRUMROLL PLEASE... THE MAIN REASON I WANTED TO MAKE THIS BLOOOG... transmasc reader content!!! 🎉🎊🥳 with warnings on what terms to be used on the naughty bits, ofc!!

with that being said....

★⋆ DDLB :3 tee hee!

★⋆ mayhaps some gender neutral reader stuff!! no pronouns other than 'you',

★⋆ if i write nsfw with GN reader, i'll have separate sections for when u have afab/amab anatomy and how characters i write with would interact with em !!

so the format would go like

˗ˏˋ ꒰ König with a chubby S/O ♥ nsfw!! ꒱ ˎˊ˗

♡ ┆ headcanon

if you have AFAB anatomy…

♡ ┆ headcanon for how he'd treat u with ur coochie, gender non-specific

if you have AMAB anatomy…

♡ ┆ headcanon for how he'd treat u with ur pp, gender non-specific

most of my fics/drabbles would be gender neutral unless stated otherwise !!

plz note!!! in cases like Ellie who is explicitly and canonically a lesbian i will also only write in fempov, everyone else i write about automatically becomes readersexual meaning theyre attracted to the reader regardless of gender, appearance, etc etc so for example if ur super mad i made your big strong masculine military man a cocksucker das on u, go cry ab it somewhere else thanks (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

★⋆ BIG GIRTHY AGE GAPS… but readers in my stories should always b regarded as 20+!!

★⋆ and ofc hand in hand with that comes a corruption kink BAHAHAHA and as a heads up i place a heavy emphasis on virginity !!!

★⋆ yandere/obsessive content bc im a sucker for it :((

★⋆ pet play/hybrid stuff… sometimes human but most of the time it comes w the reader having animal characteristics!! (ex. bunny reader, cow reader, puppy reader etc) ONLY LIMITED TO STUFF LIKE EARS/TAIL/WINGS THO and maybe heat cycle stuff bc im a sucker for that too

★⋆ A/B/O content and dynamics

★⋆ incest/stepcest probably???

STUFF I WONT WRITE ABOUT... no cute format for these ones LMAO 'm just gonna lump all of them together

zoophilia content (YES I KNOW DOL IS RIFE W/ THAT BUT I ALWAYS TURN OFF BEAST TOGGLES SJHDS) | scat/piss/basically any bodily fluid aside from CUM LMAO (i'd probably make an exception 4 squirt tho,,,, 👀) | gore

das about all i can think of for neow heheh!! btw i may like and interact w blogs that have dark content or even the content i said i wont write, please be aware of that in case the posts i've liked show up :<<

i'll eventually come up w/ a list of characters im comfy with writing for, as well as a general idea of how i would write them for requests n such!! if the character u like isnt there, im still looking into how i would write content for them :>

IF U READ THIS FAR ILY BYEEEEE ♡♡♡