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buggyswritingcorner · 9 months ago

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Part Two of Where We Part

(previous chapter) (next chapter) Childhood Friend!Simon x fem!Reader

Time has a funny way of slipping through your fingers, doesn’t it?

The years passed as they do, quietly, relentlessly and somehow, unintentionally you followed Simon Riley’s advice, no matter how much it stung during that particular summer night.

You grew older, wiser, or at least you hoped you did.

At the end of that warm, suburban summer, you left Manchester behind, moved to London for university, found yourself caught up in the complexity of adulthood, chasing dreams, making mistakes, falling in love, losing it. You lived your life, embraced its peaks and valleys, and let it sweep you along. Some days were golden, like those late summer days in your twenties when laughter was easy, love felt endless, and the world seemed filled with promise. You travelled with your new friends from university, gelato dripping down your wrist as you laughed under the bright Sicilian sun, the loud conversation with your girls echoing across the cobblestone streets. You invited your parents to London several times, playing tourist with them, showing them your new apartment, savouring moments of connection between the gaps of your new life and their old one. And then there was the day your boyfriend knelt before you, a ring glinting in the rose gold streetlights of Paris, asking you to be his fiancée.

Oh, it was the kind of moment you had always dreamed of, the fairy tale that every little girl secretly hopes will come true.

But life isn’t all dreams, is it?

You wept like a child, your heart shattered when you found out about the affair. Your fiancé, with your college roommate of all people. It felt like betrayal layered upon betrayal, and the sadness you carried then weighed more than all the joy of your past put together, manifested in the hollow echoes of your aching sobs in the shared flat you once called home. You moved out shortly after that incident.

Unfortunately, there were other disappointments, too. Failed job interviews, missed opportunities, the loneliness that seeped into your bones in those years after university, when friends began to drift away and the beauty of childhood transforms into a fading memory. But you picked yourself up. You always did. Because that’s what you did. That’s what you knew best. You kept moving, because the alternative, sinking, was unthinkable.

But through it all, you lived.

And you wouldn’t change a thing even if you had the chance.

You threw yourself into your work, into the messy and beautiful chaos of life. There were still some moments where you felt like you had the world at your feet, laughing with your high school mates over beers in dingy pubs, watching the sun set over London’s skyline, those spontaneous trips to the coast where you tasted freedom in every salty breeze. And you moved forward, not necessarily because you wanted to, but because time forced you to.

And in the quiet corners of your mind, Simon Riley became a distant thought—like the chorus of a song you used to know like the back of your hand. You thought of him less and less as the years went by, as your life became more complicated, more full.

You took his words to heart, didn’t you?

You left him behind.

But still, he lingered.

There were those times, in the early years, when your parents would call, giving you updates on Manchester, on the neighbours, on the old street you grew up on. You’d ask about the Rileys, casually, as if it didn’t really matter. You weren’t prying, not really, just curious. What had become of Simon? Of Tommy? Your parents mentioned Simon had joined the military at some point, which didn’t surprise you. He always carried a soldier’s weight, even as a boy.

They told you about Tommy too, how his life had spiralled out of control with drugs and the wreckage of his past trauma. Your mother sighed when she mentioned Mrs. Riley and how she had hit rock bottom. But Simon, when he returned from deployment, finally helped them rid themselves of Mr. Riley for good, breaking the cycle of abuse that had poisoned their lives for years.

Your parents even got a bit more involved in the Riley’s lives after that—dropping in with food, attending Tommy’s wedding with a kind soul named Beth, helping with little Joseph, their gorgeous newborn, who your mum absolutely adored. She’d tell you about him during your weekend catch-ups.

However, as time went on, the Rileys faded from your thoughts, a chapter you had quietly closed.

Your own life was blooming in London, despite the mistakes you made along the way. You loved fiercely, lost greatly, and found your way back to yourself time and again. The more you lived, the less you thought about the boy who once lived next door.

Until that cold November afternoon.

The air was ice cold, but not just from the weather. It was the kind of chill that settled deep in your bones, the kind that gnawed at you long after the sun had set during winter.

The day had been unremarkable at first—work was its usual rhythm of meetings and emails, the sound of your co-workers chattering as a familiar background noise. But then your phone rang, your mother’s weak voice trembling on the other end like the fragile crackle of dry leaves in the wind during autumn.

You had heard your mother cry before.

The grief at a relative’s passing, the heartache of a goodbye too long drawn out—but this was different. Her sobs were frantic, her rushed words spilling over each other in terrified, broken fragments, so hurried you could hardly catch the meaning.

“The Rileys… oh God, love, the Rileys are gone…”

It took you a moment to grasp what she was saying.

Gone? How? You sat frozen, the world around you blurring as your mum’s words came in and out like waves crashing against the shore.

“Dear Lord, some maniac... a psychopath… some madman…” she choked. “He killed them. Killed them all. Tommy, Beth, even little Joseph, an innocent baby, Oh God…”

You could hear your mother’s quiet anguish, but it was as though you were outside yourself, hearing everything from a great distance.

The Rileys. Dead. It didn’t make sense. Mrs. Riley, Tommy, Beth, the child—how could they be gone? The thought was too large and too grotesque to fully comprehend. It was like a nightmare, one you couldn’t wake up from.

“And… Simon?”

A name you hadn’t uttered in years.

A name that had always lingered on the edges of your memory, like a shadow cast by fading light.

Your mother’s breath caught. “I don’t know. Oh, love. He wasn’t there… I think he’s still in the military, but… oh, we don’t know, we were asleep, didn’t hear a thing…”

She was crying again, her sobs muffled by the phone. Her sobs broke through, and she confessed, through gasps of guilt, that she and your father had been sound asleep when it happened, oblivious to the horror just next door. The sanctuary of your childhood, the quiet safety of the neighbourhood, shattered in a mere second.

Your mind raced, your heart thundering in your chest.

Oh, all those years, all those moments where you hadn’t thought about Simon Riley, and now, now the past was clawing its way back, forcing you to confront something you had thought you’d left behind.

Your coworkers looked up, sensing something was wrong.

One of them asked if you were okay, if you needed anything, but you barely heard them. You wanted to scream, to cry, to do anything, but all you could do was tremble. Your hands squeezed as you gripped your phone, trying to keep your voice steady as you told your mother you’d drive up to Manchester right away, that you’d be there soon. When the call ended, and you were out the door before you had time to gather your thoughts. The moments after that were a blur, your body on autopilot as you stumbled to your car. The urgency to get there, to understand what had happened, burned through you, like liquid fire in your veins.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

Pain hit you suddenly, sharp and overwhelming, something you’ve never felt before. It started as a dull ache in your lower stomach, but it intensified rapidly until you were doubled over, gasping for breath. You couldn’t drive, you couldn’t think. By the time you finally made it to your flat, the pain had become unbearable. Something was wrong, you knew. Terribly wrong. You had to call for an ambulance, your hands shaking as you dialled the number.

However, you weren’t thinking about yourself as they wheeled you into the hospital, weren’t listening to the doctor’s voice as he explained the situation—appendicitis, nothing lethal, a routine surgery, and you’d be fine but you had to stay still.

Throughout your surgery, all you could think about was Simon. The boy who had grown into a man who you barely knew anymore, the man who had lived through hell and had come back to face it once again. Was he back in Manchester? Was he grieving? Or had he been claimed by the same nightmare that had taken the rest of his family?

After the surgery, you lay in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling, tears streaming down your face. It wasn’t the pain of your own body that made you cry—it was the helplessness, the not knowing, the fear that somewhere out there, Simon, your childhood friend, was lost, alone, and there was nothing you could do to help him.

You spent the first few hours after the surgery drifting between sleep and wakefulness, your mind clouded with both painkillers and the overwhelming ache of uncertainty. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw flashes of the past—memories of Manchester, the Rileys, Simon. The years blurred, and for a moment, you could almost feel the gentle summer sun on your skin again, hear the distant murmur of a time that seemed too far gone.

But the present was relentless.

Your parents arrived in London as quickly as they could, your mother staying by your side, fussing over you as she had when you were a child. Her hands were warm, but her eyes betrayed her fear. Fear for you, fear for what had happened back in Manchester. She stayed while your father left for the funeral—the collective service for the Rileys, held only a week after their brutal end.

You couldn’t go, of course. Fucking appendicitis.

The thought of missing that final goodbye gnawed at you. You couldn’t let it go. Therefore, you wrote. A letter. A really long letter. In the small hours of the night, with the hospital lights dimmed and the distant hum of machinery as your only company, you penned a letter.

The words didn’t come easily.

What could you possibly say to Simon Riley, after all these years? What could you write that would bring him any semblance of comfort, any understanding in the face of such senseless tragedy? How could you explain to him how sorry you were? Sorry for what had happened to his family, sorry that you weren’t there when he needed someone most, sorry for all the years you’d spent avoiding the memories of your childhood, of him. But you had to try.

You wrote with a trembling hand, pouring everything you couldn’t say aloud into that letter, every apology that had been lodged in your throat for years. You tied it to your father’s soul, knowing he would deliver it to Simon, wherever he might be. And your father, with his quiet strength, promised he would.

When the day of the funeral came, you lay in your bed, imagining the cold November air, the way the ground must have looked under the grey Manchester sky. You pictured the small crowd, neighbours, and friends from the community, all standing in sombre silence as the Rileys were laid to rest. But what haunted you most was the image of Simon—if he was even there at all. You wondered if he stood apart from the others, his broad shoulders hunched, his face unreadable as ever. Or maybe he hadn’t come at all, disappearing into the shadows once again, as he always had.

The week crawled by, each day dragging longer than the last.

Your mother stayed by your side, but the quiet weight of what had happened in Manchester pressed down on both of you. Your father returned, but there was no news of Simon. No sight of him at the funeral. No trace of him in the days after. He had vanished, leaving behind an empty house and a tragedy too vast to comprehend. And when you finally recovered enough to leave the hospital, you made the trip back to Manchester with your mother.

The familiar streets felt like a ghost of themselves—places once filled with memories now overshadowed by the grim reality of what had happened. The Riley house stood empty, its windows dark, the air around it thick with loss. You stood at the gate for a long time, staring at the house that had once been so full of life, of pain, of everything in between. But now, it was nothing. Just a shell. Just another haunted corner of your past.

There were no answers. No signs of Simon.

And in the end, after a week of trying to help your parents, after a week of grieving and remembering, you left. You packed your things and drove back to London, promising yourself you’d never return. The city you had once called home felt cursed now, and the memories it held were too heavy to bear.

You couldn’t escape the past, though. Not really.

The promise you made to yourself all those years ago, to never return to that godforsaken city, was one you kept for a long time. It wasn’t out of spite or bitterness, but rather out of a quiet resignation. You had moved on, created a life in London that was full of both the mundane and the extraordinary. And after your parents moved to Wimbledon, following your father’s cancer diagnosis, the ties to Manchester became even more frayed.

It wasn’t until your thirty-fourth birthday that you found yourself heading back to the place you swore you’d never return to.

Not for family, not for closure, but for something as trivial and absurd as a fucking high school reunion. It had started with a sudden phone call from one of your old mates, the same group you used to run around with in your youth.

You hadn’t heard from them in years. Well, apart from the occasional likes on Instagram posts or an awkwardly short birthday text.

“Fifteen bloody years,” your friend had said, her voice bright and insistent. “You’ve been stuck in London with your fancy life, and we’ve barely seen you. Time to get your arse back here and have a pint with the group, eh? It’s been too long, girl.”

You laughed it off at first, citing your tight work schedule and your responsibilities. But the more she talked, the more you realised how long it had been since you’d even thought about that part of your life. A simpler time, before the complexities of adulthood and all its responsibilities weighed on you.

So you agreed. You didn’t really know why, maybe out of a sense of pure nostalgia or maybe out of some lingering guilt.

The drive up to Manchester was long, and your nerves sat uneasily in your chest. What would it be like to see those familiar faces again, to walk the streets that had once been the backdrop of your childhood? Would it feel like home? Or would it feel like you didn’t belong anymore, a ghost walking through memories?

However, by the time you saw the familiar landmarks, something in you began to settle. The nervousness faded, replaced by a strange calmness, as if the city itself recognised you and offered some kind of unspoken truce. You arrived at the pub where your reunion was being held—the same one you used to frequent during your teenage years. It was a dive, the kind of place that hadn’t aged well, but that’s exactly what made it feel like time had stood still.

Inside, the air was warm, thick with the smell of beer and the hum of conversation. And then there they were, your dear friends, sitting in a corner, laughing just like they always did. The moment you walked in, it was as if no time had passed at all. They greeted you with familiar smiles, pulling you into tight hugs and offering you a pint almost immediately.

The conversation flowed easily, old jokes resurfacing, stories being retold with exaggerated details and you found yourself chuckling. No, truly laughing, in a way you hadn’t done in what felt like ages. The weight of the years melted away, and for those brief hours, you felt like you were a teenager again, full of life and possibility, untouched by the heaviness that had since followed you. Oh, you hadn’t even realised how much you missed it, missed them. The simplicity of it all. The foolishness of youth.

As the night wore on, you found yourself drinking more than you should have. The beers went down easy, their familiar taste blending with the warm laughter and nostalgia. You hadn’t had a drink in a while, not properly, and it didn’t take long for the alcohol to loosen your limbs and soften the edges of reality. You felt light-headed, slightly detached from your surroundings but in that comfortable way that comes with the perfect level of drunkenness. Your words were slurring a bit, your laughter louder, but you didn’t mind.

Not tonight.

Eventually, the haze became a bit too much, and you excused yourself from the table. You needed fresh air, a moment for yourself to step away from the heat of the pub and the noise of the reunion. You fumbled with your jacket as you headed for the back of the building, where the designated smoking area was. It was behind the pub, near the dimly lit, empty parking lot, and as you made your way there, you nearly tripped over a discarded bottle on the ground.

“Bloody hell,” you muttered under your breath, the curse falling easily from your lips. Even small inconveniences seemed dramatic when you were tipsy. Some habits never died.

When you reached the smoking area, you were grateful to see it wasn’t crowded. Just one man, standing off to the side, leaning against the wall of the building, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he took a long drag. The tip of the cig glowed bright orange in the darkness. His silhouette seemed larger than life, almost unreal in the way he stood. He was massive, the kind of bloke you’d notice even in a crowded room, let alone in the quiet of the night.

Tall as a statue but built like a brick wall—shoulders broad and thick with muscle, his frame nearly filling the space between the wall and the edge of the lot.

At first, you stopped, startled by his size.

He was the sort of man you’d expect to see guarding the door, maybe a bouncer or a security guard. That made sense, considering how much physical strength he had. You nodded at him out of politeness, the way you do when you make eye contact with a stranger and want to acknowledge their presence without committing to a conversation. His gaze lingered on you, sharp and calculating.

Why was he looking at you like that?

You quickly turned away, feeling oddly self-conscious, and pulled out your cig, attempting to light it. But of course, as your luck would have it, your lighter chose that moment to give up on you. No matter how many times you flicked the damn thing, it refused to spark.

“Seriously?” you muttered, cursing your luck again. The bravado of the alcohol in your system pushed you to turn towards your only companion, flashing him an awkward smile. “Hi. Hello. Any chance you’ve got a lighter, mate?”

The man didn’t speak at first.

He just watched you, observed you, his expression unreadable, his eyes dark and reflective under the dim light of the parking lot. There was something oddly familiar about the way he held himself, something in the way he stared at you that sent a ripple of recognition through you, but you couldn’t quite place it.

Without a word, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a black, well-worn lighter, and flicked it open. The flame sparked to life, small but steady, and he leaned forward, offering it to you. You stepped closer, holding your cigarette to the flame.

As you did, you couldn’t help but take a better look at him.

His face was mostly obscured by the dim lighting, but his features were hard and chiselled. His nose was crooked, as if it had been broken more than once, with a small scar running through his upper lip. His lips were thin, pressed into a line that gave nothing away, and the faint lines around his eyes hinted at a man who had lived through more than most. However, it was his gaze, those beautiful hazel eyes, that stopped you cold. They were sharp, almost piercing, and there was something else behind them—an intensity that made your stomach tighten.

For a moment, you thought it might just be the alcohol playing tricks on you, but the longer you looked, the more certain you became. There was no mistaking it.

Those eyes, guarded and haunted, belonged to Simon Riley.

“Thanks,” you muttered, taking a quick drag from your cig, stepping back, trying to act casual even though your heart was racing.

There was something about his presence, something that felt both familiar and distant at the same time. It had been years, after all. You’d moved on, or so you thought. But standing here now, the weight of the past pressed down on you, the memories flooding back like a tide you couldn’t hold back. This random bloke before you… yes, the resemblance was mad uncanny. You stole glances at the giant man, unsure, your mind buzzing with uncertainty and the effects of the alcohol. Was it really him? Could it be?

You hesitated, your hand trembling slightly as you took another drag from your cigarette. You wanted to ask, but the words stuck in your throat, too afraid to sound foolish. Too afraid that if you asked, you’d break whatever fragile moment this was. But before you could find the courage to speak, the man sighed.

That sigh.

It was unmistakable—quiet, irritated, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders and he was tired of carrying it. It was the same sigh you’d heard all those years ago, on that warm summer night beneath the street lamps.

“Fuckin' hell,” he muttered under his breath, the deep, rough rumble of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “S’me. Stop gawkin'.”

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buggyswritingcorner · 9 months ago

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YOu are a beautiful soul for writing halbrand and elf reader! I cannot wait to lay my eyes on it!!

Ooooh, you dont even know whats comin, i love writing this dude hes so sassy and cute, its gonna be pretty long like aroun 2k maybe more?? Words

love you guys! Please shoot all requests into my inbox!

#trop #annatar #x reader

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buggyswritingcorner · 9 months ago

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Did someone say Halbrand Fic on the way? 👀

Hell yeaaaa~ i’m a little busy with uni and getting a job but I looove weiring Halbrand he’s so fun and sassy!

it’s an elf x halbrand (ambiguous on whether he is sauron) lots of longing tension and spice.

i hope you guys will like it because i do!

xoxo i love you, if you have any requests PLEASE give me a message

#halbrand #annatar #the rings of power #lord of the rings #rings of power #x reader #mairon x reader #annatar x reader #halbrand x reader

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buggyswritingcorner · 10 months ago

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Info - halbrand fic

Hello everyone! Just wanted to let ya’ll know I have two! Fics coming(crazy i know). Anyhooo one is about halbrand and an elf reader, the other is about numenorean reader and isildur. so no worries content is on the way and im pretty proud of my self if you’ll allow me to stroke my ego haha.

love you xx

edit i'm at 1.3k words and I'm not even halfway done? lol

lmfao the Isildur fic that i'm mostly writing for myself has almost 5.6k words... lol

check me out! -> masterlist

#trop #halbrand #annatar #isildur #lord of the rings #galadriel

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buggyswritingcorner · 10 months ago

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OMG just found you through your NSFW-alphabet for Aemond, could you please please do one for his brother as well?

heyy... heyyy.. uh i know this is.. two years.. late, im sorryyyy, i had sooo much stuff happen to me tho and i feel like now im finally ready to start writing again! thank you for this request! check out my

MASTERLIST

NSFW Aegon Targaryen

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Yees girl go give us ⋆✩nothing⋆✩, hahahah no it really depends on what your relationship with him is, i can't see him being overly loving and patient with someone who's a fleeting moment in his life, if he is in love with you tho (whether or not he realises it) he will do his utmost best to shower you with love, even after a hate fuck this puppy couldn't possibly with good consience let you go without a bit of love

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he's quite insecure (shocking) so at first he had basically nothing, no part of him was entirely without flaw and he hated it, being with you and seeing how you look at him changed his mind and now he finds his shoulders and torso quite attractive (especially with your feet over his shoulders)

what he likes most on you differs every day, one day it's your eyes, the next your ass, he loves and longs for all of you

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

this dirty bitch, anywhere... anywhere

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he definitely caught alicent and crispin doing it at least once.. did he enjoy it? debatable

he has many secrets, most of them dirty.. so yeah, he's probably even seen you naked many times before you courted officially, he has his ways..

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he's always been very well versed in the art of sex, he fears nothing and is up to experiencing everything, so good luck with suprinsing him with something new.. if you do though, well just be prepared to not leave your room for some time, he loves new experiences

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

you on top, no arguments, on part because he's a little lazy, but also because he can see all of you that way, every curve, every sweet drip he'd like to lick up

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he's a gooof, a silly boyy, cannot stay serious for the life of him bless this poor man he tried once and you laughed at him because he looked constipated, if you really want him serious tho.. that takes a lot of teasing the entire day, then at night he takes what he was promised in those foxy smirks flashed his wayy all day

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

no grooming, unless you ask for it, like really plead for it, i think he just also forgets and obviously on you he doesn't mind any hair, on the contrary i think it makes him more turned on because it feels 'animalistic' and raw

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he can be romantic, he definitely uses his puppy eyes to his advantage and makes you take care of him haha

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he knows he looks good and won't hesitate to show you too, so you walking into your shared chambers while he's lost in himself is quite common, and then he just flashes you a coy smirk and get louder the longer you ignore him

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

i fear... i may have to say this man has a mommy kink, or just a woman kink in general lol, he definitely searches for validation where he didn't recieve it, so you being able to praise him and make him feel loved is a biig YES

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Unlike his clean brother, this man is dirty as fuck and is down to do it just about anywhere. Is a never ending list really. He looks forward to taking you into the darkest alleyways of King´s Landing or underneath the stone table in the Sept of Baelor.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

once again, just you, there is nothing more ravishing than you in a pretty dress or tunic and a pair of pants, the lower the cut of the hem the better, he loves when you swoosh your hair around him, likes the wilder side of you more than the proper side

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

... i really tried to come up with something but i dunno, i feel like hes down for anything??

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

a master in giving, terrible at recieving, he wriggles and whines and tugs on your hair, wear a whole set of armor if you dont want scratch marks everywhere!! also be carefull this one bites

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

he's sloppy mostly, but at times when he sobers up in a moment of clarity he can rock your fuckin world, you'll be climbing the walls im tellin you

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

yes,yes,yes - aegon on quickies, he loves it, anywhere anytime, he'll srsly take you in an alleyway if you let him, so be carefull

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

once again i feel like he'd risk anything for that rush of adrenaline that he just longs for, he feels so bored and dead all the time that he wants to experience it all with you

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

if he's drinking? barely one, may even fall asleep on you. if he's sober? get ready for a ride till the sunrise, he takes his time and just kissing him may feel like only minutes passed when in reality you've been there for hours

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

i mean, you saw the damn dildo, thats all imma say, he a freak

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

oh he's such a little tease, but not in the way most would expect, he's not a very dominant boy, so he'll more likely tease you to make you jealous or to make you look at his neck and chest when his tunic get mysteriously untied in the wind

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

looud, get your chambers soundproofed please, for the sake of the children, he's grunting, moaning, whining, cursing and all in between, the more orgasms you give him the higher his voice goes in octaves, its a fun game to see how high the bird will sing

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

i think he likes getting spanked, something makes me believe he'd be begging for that sharp sting, be it his face, cock or ass, he'll take anything you'll give

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

average sized, pretty boy cock what can i say, curved with a very pink flush

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

he's a whore, but a whore with feelings, he's down to do it most of the time but sometimes you'll have to console the poor boy because he feels like he's too demanding, just make sure you kiss him and he's forgetting all about those pesky insecurities

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

after you're done, he's not even letting you get up to use the restroom, he grabs you and just won't let go until he's sound asleep, you make him feel safe and loved

Hope you enjoyed!!

masterlist

#aegon x reader #king aegon #aegon ii #hotd #house of the dragon #oneshot #x reader #smut #aegon smut

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buggyswritingcorner · 10 months ago

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Can you please write Sauron/Annatar x fem elf where she dies in the explosion because she wanted to surprise him with a gift.

hello! Thank you for the request i hope i met your expectations! Please enjoy it! <3 its kinda short i hope thats not a problem also i didnt have much detail to go off of haha, please provide as much detail so i may cater it to your liking next time! <3

Masterlist <- click me for more!

A gift ne’er received

As long as you could remember, you had been a giver. Your hands were nimble and always working on something. That was a part of the reason why Annatar took to liking you. A smile blossomed on your lips as you thought back to the man.

His real self, that which he concealed under the —undeniably handsome — mask of a mortal man. But you knew him as more than just a man.

That is why you stood with him through all those years of suffering, pain and shame. It was why you had given up your family for love.

It was why you were in the middle of the forrest now, with your hands carving the fresh young wood of the Southland trees. A statue of a king. With long hair and a beautiful face which could only belong to one.

Your hands stilled when you heard it. A deep rumbling in the earth, an earthquake? No.. your eyes flashed to the sky in horror as you recognized the smoke froming thick clouds above you.

Suddenly a great wave of wind came upon you as you stumbled to the ground. Your head rang with pain and a ringing was bothering one of your ears. The sharp ears were so sensitive the wave must’ve deafened you for a moment. Because the next you could not hear anything, and a moment later black ashes enveloped you in a warm and deadly embrace.

Mairon of course looked for you, he stumbled through the forest with burning tear stained cheeks. His lungs being filled with ash and smoke. But he endured. He had to find you. His one.

And he did. Lying in a bed of the softest blackest earth. Your beautiful soft hair singed and blackened, your lips dried and your eyes lifeless. He dropped to his knees before your body and pulled you to his chest.

Silently he weeped for all that was and all that would never be.

And in silence he brought the carving up to his face and then tucked it behind his armor. And then carried your body through the desolate land. And he swore vengence and he swore death. But most importantly, he swore life.

He’d shepherd your soul back unto this middle earth no matter what it took.

#trop #annatar #mairon #sauron #x reader #mairon x reader #the rings of power #halbrand

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buggyswritingcorner · 10 months ago

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I Couldn't not do it :) Healthy way to resolve your conflicts XD #MorfyddClark #CharlieVickers #RingsOfPower #sauron #annatar #galadriel

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buggyswritingcorner · 10 months ago

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just waiting for the moment to finish this…

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buggyswritingcorner · 10 months ago

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REQUESTS WRITING

helloo people of tumbledumble just wanted to let yall know im now taking requests for rings of power and the hobbit and lord of the rings!

Please send all request my way! Im feeling super motivated (finally) so id like to get back to writing

Also there an aegon nsfw alphabet coming (hopefully) check out my masterlist for MORE

alright i love yall, be nice stay happy and dont be afraid to throw anything at all into my inbox (especially isildur omg i love that pookie)

MASTERLIST

#rings of power #sauron #isildur #trop #hobbit #lord of the rings #galadriel #halbrand #x reader

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buggyswritingcorner · 2 years ago

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Could I request Rhaenyra x Velaryon!reader in a kinda soulmate au where their dragons become a mated pair, which is a sign from the (Valyrian) gods that their riders are meant to be together, and Nyra and reader’s bonds with their dragons end up transferring to include each other, so they can feel each other’s emotions and pain, just like with their dragons, and it draws them together? Maybe some smut?

Hand in hand, wing by wing

Heyy sorry this is late lol. I’ve had no motivation. Anyway you didnt specify gender so i did it as GN as i could but reader wears a dress one time. Hope you like it!

masterlist

Word of your dragons’ mating was brought to you no longer than a day ago. Some guards spotted Aegarax - your grown dragon soaring the skies alongside Syrax.

Your family has recently journeyed to King’s Landing. Your mother - the king’s cousin has offered your hand to the king and you had been proposed the match by the king himself in the royal gardens. You were not delighted with this revelation yet still performed as a flawless heir to Driftmark should.

Now it was days later and the proposal seemed to have been forgotten, at least for the time being. Thankfully.

These days you spent most of your time with the crown princess Rhaenyra. You had always been suitable for each other. Since you were just babes you played together and shared toys generously. Sometimes even beds after playdates.

“Ehm ehm.” Your thoughts were interrupted by none other.

“Princess Rhaenyra.” You turned to the silver haired lady and bowed your head in mock respect.

In turn she rolled her eyes and linked her arm around your elbow.

“Did you hear it?” She inquired cheerfully. “Our dragons are rumored to be mated.” She raised her eyebrows with mischief evident on her face.

“Really? I had heard of no such thing.” You pretended ignorance. Playing with her emotions was far too much fun. The princess could never hide her true feelings. She was all fire and smoke which could not be stomped out. She frowned then just as quickly lit up.

“No matter, now you know.” You continued walking the halls of the red keep. Initially you were headed for the kitchens in hopes of stealing a lemon cake or two. But the princess was headed elsewhere, which meant you would follow her.

“Let us go for a ride no?” She smiled and quickened her pace dragging you along. Once outside calling for a carriage. You both giggled as you climbed excitedly in the cramped space.

You saw her whisper to a servant the location which she wished to visit and off you were.

You both stared out of the windows of the carriage looking at the common folk and whispering gossip about the royal court. You never laughed with anyone as much as you did with the princess.

The carriage stopped as you arrived at the Dragonpit. You took the princess’s hand as you climbed out of the carriage and headed for your dragons. They were readied for flight in no time.

Your dragon was much bigger than Rhaenyra’s easily being able to carry up to three riders. But you had to admit that Syrax carried a queenly attitude. The two dragons snuggled their noses and sniffed around each other. Rhaenyra laughed at them and then directed her gaze to you. You smirked at the heart shaped piece of armor on Syrax’s chest and took to flight.

The weight of the wings cut through the stuffy air and soon you were above the city soaring torwards the clouds. Your white hair whipped around in the currents of air. Soon Rhaenyra emerged beside you.

“Isn’t this far better?” She yelled so you could hear her.

“Undeniably princess!” You loved being free like this. Unchained, soaring far away from the problems of the little men beneath you.

Suddenly Rhaenyra led Syrax closer to you and bumped her wing across Aegarax’s.

“Hey!” You startled. “What was that for?”

“Because you didn’t tell me my father proposed a wedlock between you two!”

You sighed as you stared across her face, studying her expression. Was she angry? Or maybe she was hurt you didn’t tell her?

“I didn’t want to burden you with something that might not even happen! He hasn’t spoken to me since.”

“You still could’ve told me. Anyway I do not think this marriage agreeable. You two are not fit for each other! I would be a much better match don’t you think? “Her grin was now as wide as her face and you could not help laughing.

She watched as your laughter died out. Then she asked again. “Don’t you think so?”

You stared at her in confusion. Then you thought about it. It was true that an heir to Driftmark and the crown Princess of the realm would make a strong political match. But somehow you didn’t think this was entirely out of political reasons.

You’ve avoided your own feelings for the princess for too long to know what they were. Always blaming it on being young. But what were your feelings on this matter?

“I believe we would make a strong match Rhae!” You grinned at her. She looked regal and beautiful yet disheveled with her blonde hair pulled into a loose braid.

And you could never forget how she smiled that day.

Weeks later the king announced that he should wed Alicent, the hand’s daughter. And a rock fell from your chest.

Rhaenyra took this news dreadfully. She avoided Alicent and her father. Now you were her only ally in the world.

You became more intrigued by your Aegarax’s relationship with Syrax. He circled around her at most times and they were reported to rarely be seen apart. When attempted to separate the two would turn agressive and protective.

You yourself have started experiencing certain sudden changes in mood. These changes felt hazy like a dream. Like they were not your own.

You shook these thought off and focused.

You were adorned by blue robes and exquisite jewels. Today was the official dinner to celebrate the proposal of the king. Your parents were a bit offended and kept muttering about their child being far more beautiful and wiser than Alicent. You scolded them silently with sharp looks.

As you were headed to the royal hall for the banquet you noticed Rhaenyra standing in the shadows of the hall.

“What are you doing?” She just looked at you, grabbed your hand and started leading you the other way far from the royal hall.

“Come with me. I don’t want to spend tonight with those hypocrites.”

“Alright fine, you could’ve just asked me no need to sweep me away. I warn you we will be missed.”

She shot you a look and continued leading you to her chambers. Once inside she finally relaxed and locked the door.

She walked towards the balcony. And stood silently watching the city candle lights being lit one by one as the sun set over the horizon.

“Rhae?” You whispered.

“How could he do this?” She sniffled. “And then expect me to celebrate him?”

You walked closer and put your hands on her shoulders, placing your head upon one.

“People are strange. Your father needs a supportive wife. Or he will fail. Maybe he sees that in Alicent. I’m sorry either way but this doesn’t have to mean an end of your friendship.”

You spun her around to face you.

Her eyes glimmered with tears daring not to spill over. Then she spoke.

“You know what the people whisper?”

“I don’t concern myself with the opinions of sheep.” You smiled. “Neither should you.”

“In old Valyria it was believed that when two dragons mate, their riders are destined to each other. Syrax has laid eggs.” She stared into your eyes unwavering.

Your breath was stuck in your throat. Did she mean you and her were…?

Your faces closed in closer and closer. You could feel her breath on you lips as your eyes closed slowly. First she kissed the corner of your mouth. Then your left cheek.

“Rhae.” You breathed, you supposed you should feel panicked, yet you felt strangely serene. As though this was some sort of destiny, as rhough it was mesnt to happen. After all, she just felt so right here in your arms.

Your hands snaked around her waist hugging her tightly. Her kisses trailed all over your face and neck. You could bear it no more. You grabbed her face and kissed her lips. Stumbling you pushed her onto the stone wall on the balcony.

A light breeze flowed through your clothes. She had worn a simple light dress and her body was now shivering with lust.

You took her with you onto the ground and kissed every inch of her. She flipped both of you and started running her hands around your body. Caressing the curves and sharp edges.

Her hands worked on your clothes. Until your top half was bare to her. And the you unclothed her. Both of you couldn’t speak. You were too lost in this little world of yours’. Harsh breaths echoed from the walls.

She pinched your nipples between her teeth and you gasped in fresh air. Your throat was dry and you loved her so much.

You loved her.

Like the wind. Like the sea. You loved her like a huriccane and you would not let her go. Even if your head spun like crazy your feet would always remain steady with her by your side.

So you told her. “I love you my princess.”

She sighed contently as your fingers reached her opening. All those years of longing and silent loving gushed out.

“I love you too.” She smiled feverishly. Her face was red and contrasted again her pale hair.

She took your hands and joined them with hers.

“The Gods have blessed us. Let us not waste time.” Then she leaned down and caught your lips once more.

#rhaenyra x reader #house of the dragon #oneshot #rhaenyra targaryen #fluff #smut #rhaenyra smut #velaryon reader

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