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bunniesanddeer · 6 months

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Heat: Part One

Part Two

This was my first attempt at smut, so you will all get to see it now. I hope you'll like it. I originally posted it on AO3. If it is terrible, I apologize. This is also set in the same universe as "Bound to Hell" and "Going Straight to Hell", but it is NOT canon to the official multichapter fic which will be posted when it is half done. So it is the same characters, with a much more developed relationship.

Pairing: Alastor x Reader (AFAB) Lamb/Sheep Reader

Warnings: References to abuse, going into heat, no a/b/o, female anatomy, Rosie being a good friend, references to Soul Bonds, something you can ask about haha. Minors DNI. This part is not explicit, but the next is! Alastor speaks French.

Word Count: 3,690

Alastor knew something was wrong very early on. He hadn’t been able to identify what it was specifically, but it had been unsettling. His shadow had quaked and quivered at something he couldn’t see, and his skin had felt tight. When he had left his room, the sound of crickets in the swamp fading behind him, the feeling had grown worse. It had made the Overlord not quite jumpy, but definitely uncomfortable. Then he saw the cause, stumbling from their room.

His little lamb that was slowly carving out a spot for themself in his cold, dead heart, was the cause. Their wool was disheveled, nearly matted. Their eyelids were drooping low, as if they hadn’t slept. He watched them stumble for a bit before he caught their scent. Due to their bond, and proximity, he was quite attuned to their scent. Normally, they were faintly sweet with a hint of florals, but now? All he could focus on was the deep, heady smell of them. Alastor wasn’t sure what had happened, but it was clearly drastic.

“My dear,” he called. The sound of his voice had made the little demon perk up. They whipped around, and nearly sprinted to his side. They were often enthusiastic to see him in the morning, but this was new.

“Alastor!” Their voice was filled with joy, their eyes full of unwarranted excitement. The exhaustion that had painted their face only a moment before, was gone. Their hands wrapped around his lower arm, and they nuzzled into his side. They cooed, “I missed you.”

Alastor’s brows furrowed. How very peculiar! His little lamb never initiated contact without asking first. He didn’t mind their touch, it was rather pleasing. He enjoyed the softness of their skin, and the gentleness of their hands. They still liked to ask, though, some strange need to make him feel comfortable. (He thought it was unnecessary, he was an Overlord, and he owned their soul; if he wanted them off, they’d be off of him). Not to forget, they had ‘missed’ him? The two had been separated a handful of hours at most. What was going on?

“My dearest, are you feeling alright,” he asked, lifting their chin with his other hand. “You seem a little out of sorts.”

Their eyes wavered, and the exhaustion leeched back into them. The grasp they had on his arm tightened. “I’m sorry, Al. I feel really weird.” Their eyelids fluttered, and they released a strangled breath. “I feel like I’m burning up. Which is weird, it’s winter still.”

Alastor could feel his smile wavering. He hadn’t heard of sinners getting fevers for anything other than strange illnesses. No one else in the hotel was sick, so how could they have contracted anything? He looked them up and down, noting the flush to their cheeks, and the sweat building up on the back of their neck. They were sick.

“Hey, can… can demons get colds?” They asked, almost as if it was a joke. Before Alastor could muster a response, they collapsed. He deftly caught them, his surprise showing on his face.

“Oh, dear,” he muttered to himself. Who would know about these kinds of things? Perhaps Charlie? But she was supposed to be rather busy that day. Perhaps Rosie would know! She had been in Hell for quite a long time. She was bound to know something.

Alastor arranged his little soul-bond in his arms, and stalked back to their room. Their room was full of that smell that had thrown him off just before. It made his skin tingle, and his head feel full. He couldn’t account for it, but it wasn’t something he disliked. The discomfort came from the confusion that was growing in his breast. What a strange sensation!

Alastor wrapped them up in their blankets, hoping that perhaps getting warmer would help their fever. Before he stepped away from their bedside, he stroked their cheek with the back of his fingers. How soft their skin was! He stared down at their little face, taking in every detail. The white freckles that looked like stars against their gray skin, the way their lashes fluttered in their sleep. Their plush lips, just barely open, and the sharp teeth he knew lay behind them. His chest tightened, something aching deeply, as he looked at them. His smile tightened. Alastor decided it was time to go.

On the way out of the hotel, he called for Husker. The cat-demon was clearly disgruntled at being called on earlier than he’d prefer, but Alastor didn’t care.

“My little lamb seems to be sick. They’re in bed right now. If they don’t stir before noon, wake them up and make them eat something.” Alastor let the underlying threat color his words. He wouldn’t have their situation get worse just because Husker wanted to be lazy. They would eat, before he got back, and then he would help them get better. But first, he needed to know what was wrong.

“Alastor! My good friend! What brings you in on such a fine day!” Rosie’s fervor was nearly infectious, but Alastor had a mission. The feather on her hat bobbed as she tilted her head in question.

“Ah, I seem to have a problem,” Alastor replied. “Do you mind if we perhaps have a conversation in a less, public space?”

The deer-demon glanced about, as if to remind her of their location. Rosie nodded, still smiling happily. She gestured with a flick of her wrist, and led the way to the back of her store.

When the two had finally settled into their seats, Alastor sighed. Rosie went about pouring some tea for them as he worked on his words. He conjured his microphone, idly tapping it. Something heavy weighed in his chest, and the feeling wouldn’t go away.

“Oh Alastor! You know you’re my favorite pal! Just tell me what’s on your mind. You look all twisted up!” Rosie sat back in her chair, sipping from a teacup that she held delicately. Her smile was welcoming and patient, and it soothed Alastor minutely.

He was thankful for her breaking the silence, as it forced him to finally speak. “Do you know what might cause a sinner to get sick? Even if they have not been exposed to anything?”

Rosie hummed to herself, a knowing look in her dark eyes. “Oh, this is about your little paramour, isn’t it?”

Alastor’s smile twitched, faintly. Of course! Rosie would be able to tell immediately. She was intelligent, and she was better at reading people than even himself. Not to mention, the two of them had been friends a long time. She could read him like an open book.

“Yes,” he admitted. “They seem to be sick, and I don’t know what it could be. I’ve never seen nor experienced such a thing, here.” His claws tap at the armrest of the plush chair, as he props his chin up with the other hand. “They looked positively dreadful this morning! Claiming that they felt hot, despite the cold.”

Rosie set down her teacup, letting a hand cover her smile as she laughed. “Oh dear! That is quite something.” She laughed again when Alastor let his annoyance show. “They’re a sheep, are they not?”

Alastor nodded, not quite knowing what that aspect of his little soul-bond had to do with it.

“And they are female, yes?” Alastor nodded again, his confusion growing. “Oh dear. You said some time ago that they had reciprocated the soul-bond, yes? And they’ve been down here for several months now.”

Rosie trailed off, as if expecting him to suddenly understand what she was implying. Alastor couldn’t think of how any of that had made them sick. Rosie picked up on how deeply confused he was, and sighed.

“My, my. You really don’t know about how demon manifestations work, beyond what pertains to yourself, do you?” Rosie waved a hand. “As you know, the form we take in death often have something to do with our life. The way we died, the way we lived, all of it contributes in one way or another. Lambs, sheep, whatever you want to call them, tended to have harder lives where they had no control. Often dealing in their bodily autonomy, or lack thereof.”

Alastor’s smile shrunk. Well of course, he had known what their life had been, but seeing that their new form was a reminder of that, each day? It made him uncomfortable. He hoped that his little lamb didn’t know why they were a lamb.

“Yes, I see that you have connected some of the dots. They’re lambs to the slaughter, all of them in one way or another. Their forms, because it’s Hell, often come with some terrible side effects that don’t show for a while. Their stress needs to level out, and they need to feel comfortable with the demons they are frequently near.” Rosie raises her brows, waiting for him to get it, but he doesn’t. “When they’ve settled, and they’re around demons they like, or they bond, the side effects kick in. Your little lamb, is experiencing that now.”

“So, they will get sick, because they’re comfortable?” Alastor feels mildly bamboozled, as he tries to clarify.

“Alastor, no,” Rosie sighs. She rubs her forehead, carefully avoiding cutting herself with her claws. “They’re in heat.”

Alastor shifts in his seat, that uncomfortable feeling tingling in his brain again. “Heat? Like, like an animal?”

“Yes, like a ewe, Alastor. They will seem sick, for about a day, then they will be clingy with you for the next, and then it will happen.” Rosie leans back in her chair, again. Unlike Alastor, she seemed entirely comfortable with the topic of discussion. “They will have the strongest drive for sex that they will have ever experienced. Going without is said to hurt terribly, like their whole body is on fire. They’ll seek out comfort in you, or by themself. Whatever quells the urge.”

Alastor felt like he had been shot. Never in all his years, alive or dead, had he heard of such a thing occurring. How tedious! How disgusting. His nose scrunched up at the thought of having to deal with such a thing himself, but the thought of his lamb… Heat rushed down his chest and into the pit of his belly. His skin was itching. The thought of his soul-bonded needing him in such a way… Alastor could not tell himself that he disliked such an idea.

He was deeply aware of how much he had grown to care for them. When he had finally relinquished some control in their relationship, offering to tie their little string tight on his end, he knew it was cemented. Alastor had a bizarre, and new, kind of love for the sweet thing he had made a deal with. They were his, and for the first, and only time, he could say, he was also theirs. He still owned their soul, but it was different. Their relationship had shifted over time. There were no more orders, and there was no more fear. His little lamb had grown comfortable, happy even, and this ‘heat’ was the proof.

Something akin to pride ignited in his chest. Yes, they were happy with him. What a delightful thing to know for sure!

“What should I do? I am not ready for anything of that nature, and I don’t want to risk them. They have had far too many choices taken from them,” Alastor says. His hands clasp together as he gives Rosie a moment to think. He didn’t want them forced into such an awful thing again. The realization that their experiences in life had caused this…anger was a word that barely described his feelings on the matter. He wanted to tear whatever being was in charge of such transformations into pieces.

“They will need something, at some level. Tomorrow, bring it up to them, ask. Let them know everything you know, and give them a choice. They can try and ride it out alone, or you can be beside them. How you handle it beyond that is between the two of you.” Rosie stands, a gentle smile on her face. “You should get going, my friend. You should get back to them. You’ll want to feed them well over these two days. They’ll need the energy, no matter what happens.”

Alastor stands, thanking her, almost absentmindedly. His trip back to the hotel is spent in silent pondering. He needed to plan. He wasn’t sure if sex was something he desired for himself, but he knew, deep down, he would do it for them; he’d give them that pleasure, that joy. Alastor could also feel something possessive growing. The idea of anyone else getting to commit themselves to such a task made him grit his teeth. No, if anyone was going to touch the sheep-demon, it would be him.

Angry flames licked at the bottom of his belly, something in his thoughts igniting them. They were his, and his alone. He would be the one to drive them to pleasure. (He ignored the memory of Richard and his deeds. None of that changed anything about what they deserved. It just meant that he needed to more carefully heed their wants and needs. He would give them the bliss that no other had).

Alastor smiled widely when he returned to the hotel. Now he needed to sit by their side for the night, and then speak with them tomorrow. Perhaps a quick discussion with the others as well? The two of them would not be available for the next few days, and he needed to make sure they would remain undisturbed. Perhaps a different location would be ideal.

When you woke, all you could focus on was the smell of food. Alastor was a very good cook, and you knew from the lovely smell of spices, that it had to have been his food. When you finally cracked your eyes open, you were delighted to find yourself right. The demon was sitting on the edge of your bed, a steaming bowl cupped in one of his hands.

“Good morning, dearest,” he said. There was something akin to apprehension on his face, but you were far too hungry to immediately comment on it. “I figured you would be quite hungry, when you awoke, so I took the liberty of making you something hardy.”

You smiled widely in thanks. How sweet he could be to you! It was new, in your relationship, but you loved it. You held out your hands, thanking him as you did, but he didn’t hand you the bowl. Alastor merely gestured for you to sit up, and scoot back. You did so, hesitantly, your back settling against your headboard. You held out your hands again, but he settled himself close to you on the bed. With his legs swung over the side, he started spooning the stew.

“No, hey, wait a minute! I can feed myself!” You glared at him, confusion and a tinge of anger mixing together.

Alastor sighed, affection leaking into his words. “I know, my love, but I need to tell you something quite…hmm, difficult might be the best word here. I want you to just listen, and focus on eating. Plus, I just love taking care of you.” One of his hands edges towards your face, claws softly stroking your cheek. He pulls it back, and spoons some more stew. “You can ask questions when I am done, but for now, eat.”

You grumble to yourself before opening your mouth to accept the spoon. Although you were loath to admit it, the stew tasted great, and him feeding you only felt slightly patronizing.

“Do you recall how you felt yesterday? You said you felt like you were burning up. Well, when you fainted, I went to find out what could be the cause. I went to my good friend Rosie, you remember her?” He lets you nod before feeding you another spoonful. “I came to the conclusion that she would know enough about Hell, to know what was causing your sudden illness.

“So I described it vaguely, and she realized I was talking about you, dearest. And she said some things that upset me, more than I had been willing to admit at the time.” Alastor sighs, static, that seemed ever present in his voice, fizzling out. The room was quiet for a moment as he let you swallow your food. “The way we manifest in Hell, has to do with the way we lived, and died. The things we experienced. I know you know some of this, but I also found out something more specific about your form.”

Alastor goes quiet, and you frown. Whatever could he have learned to cause the demon that never stops talking to go quiet?

“Sheep demons are often the result of lives lived that had very little control over themselves or their situation. You are a sheep, because you had such little bodily autonomy in your life, my love.” He feeds you another spoonful as your eyes widen. He snorts to himself. “It made me so incredibly angry, to have that confirmed to me. It only got worse when she finally told me why that had anything to do with your illness.

“You aren’t sick. You are experiencing a ‘heat’, as she called it. It’s a side effect of being a sheep, or more specifically a female, sheep demon. It occurs when the individual has been comfortable with the demons in their vicinity and stress-free for a time. Soul-bonds can trigger this too.”

Your brows scrunched up, and you swallowed the food before you had finished chewing. It hurt your throat, but the urge to grimace was too strong. How fucking terrible. It felt like you couldn’t escape anything from your life. Your eyes drifted to the wall. You couldn’t even make eye contact with Alastor. His gaze felt heavy on you, and all you wanted to do was hide.

“I’m sorry, dearest. You need to know what ‘heats’ are, though. Then we can talk about what you would like to do about it.” Alastor sets the bowl down on your bedside table, taking the hint that you couldn’t eat right then. One of his hands tugs at yours, large claws wrapping around your whole hand easily. “Yesterday, the fever and the exhaustion, was the first day. The second, which is today, it’s common for the affected individual to be clingy, especially with a bonded pair.” His thumb stroked the back of your wrist, as he continued. “Tomorrow, the actual ‘heat’ occurs. You will be driven to-”

Alastor cuts himself off with a cough, and it draws your gaze. “Sorry, my dear. I’ll continue. You will want to have sex. The desire will become a need, and it will consume you. I have been told that it can hurt, to go without, but that it is possible to handle alone. This is what I would like to talk to you about.”

Your nose twitches, and your lips quiver. Of course, this would be thrust on you. How could you deal with this? The idea of sex still unsettled you. However, he mentioned that it could be handled alone. Did he mean masturbation? Would something other than penetration work? Your thoughts whorled in your head, when one stuck to the forefront.

The image of Alastor holding you tightly to his chest, hand cupping your navel and exploring lower, made your brain halt. The thought of his fingers rubbing at your clit, and his wonderful voice whispering in your ear. Him touching you gently, talking you through the whole ordeal, and bringing you to orgasm, lit up your mind. You suddenly wanted it more than anything. You didn’t need penetration from him, but you so desperately wanted to be touched.

Your cheeks flushed, and fluttering erupted beneath your navel. Alastor’s eyebrows raised as he took in your appearance. You were so glad that he couldn’t read your thoughts. How embarrassing, especially because he wasn’t the biggest fan of being touched.

The heat subsided as you remembered that detail. That would complicate things. The idea of being left alone, right now, made you want to cry. You hoped he didn’t want you to handle it by yourself. If all he could do was be in the same room, you would take it over being alone.

“I know that neither of us are at the point where…sexual intercourse would be the best action. However, I don’t want you to deal with it alone. As new as this will be for me, I would like to be there for you. To help you with it, if you so desire.” Alastor leans in towards you, one of his hands cupping your face. “I would bring you pleasure, and help this ‘heat’ end for you, my love.”

Your eyelids flutter closed, letting his breath fan across your face as you think. You want him with you, badly.

Alastor chuckles, making you look at him. “I can do that, my dear.”

Oh. You had spoken out loud. (Your brain feels like it's melting. It feels hard to think, but you push through). Your cheeks flush again.

“Please, stay with me. I don’t want sex, but I would like your help, if you would give it to me.” Your eyes shift off of his face, shame curdling in your stomach. “I don’t know how to help myself very well, as it is. I would like to learn, with you, if I could.”

Alastor suddenly grabs both sides of your face, his own getting closer. “Look at me, my little lamb. You are deserving of such pleasures, and I would gladly help you. We can learn together, dearest. We can stop if you are ever uncomfortable, I swear it. I would never take advantage of such a situation.”

You smile at him. “Same for you, Al. If you don’t wanna touch me, or vice versa, just let me know. I can figure something out.”

Alastor’s smile softens, and his pupils expand. “Oh, love, worry not. The desire to touch you in such a way has been growing, and the thought has been stuck in my head all night.” His thumbs rub your cheeks, gentler than you had ever felt him be.

Your chest aches, and the sudden need to cry grows within you. You love this strange demon, despite everything that had happened in the last months. He was growing to be so good to you, and it made your heart hurt.

“Can I kiss you,” you ask, your volume barely above a whisper.

Alastor answers by molding his lips to yours. His skin is cool to the touch, but compared to the fire you were bathed in the day before, it was Heaven. One of his hands clutched the back of your head, brushing by your sensitive ears. A sound breaks free from your throat, and it makes him press into you harder. You clutch at his suit jacket, your lungs starting to burn. Before you can grow lightheaded, (although you definitely were from just kissing him, just not suffocating), he pulled back from you.

“That was splendid, ma chéri.” His voice dips lower, his fake radio accent slipping.

You bask in his presence, as you think over what tomorrow will entail. Although he feeds you a few more times that day, and you talk more about how you feel about it, nothing could prepare you for the full force of the ‘heat’. When he transports you to a room that you haven’t been before, you let your curiosity numb your anxiety. Worrying about it wouldn’t help you, anyway.

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imaginedisish · 2 years

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The Only Exception (Din Djarin x fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys!!! Ahhh here is the Din Djarin x reader fic I said I’d post. This has been sitting in my WIPs since late November/early December. This is what I was working on before I got sick. I’m so happy it’s done. I’m pretty pleased with how it turned out, although I may have written something similar to this already. It’s very much inspired by “The Only Exception,” by Paramore. I’m hoping I didn’t use this song as a title yet....Oh well. ENJOY!

Summary: Din has been wildly overprotective of you lately, but maybe it’s because there’s something lying deep below the surface that’s been threatening to bubble over...

Warnings: SMUT!!!!! 18+ Please!!! Oral (f!receiving), fingering, PIV sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), cursing, canon typical violence, Jedi!reader, Razor Crest still exists (and it’s def bigger in my head than it is in the show), praise kink, friends to lovers, angsty but fluffy and smutty dw, I only proofread like 2 times so it may be bad (it’s 3:16am...so...we die like men!), AFAB reader, uhhh I think that’s it...

Word Count: 3,078

“I swear to the Maker, if you don’t get back on the Crest now, I’m gonna-,”

Din is cut off by the sound of your lightsaber clashing through the plastoid armor of the stormtrooper to your left. You swing your saber around, showing off more than you need to. You throw it down the alleyway, feeling through the force as it cuts through another stormtrooper before finding its way back to your hand.

“You’re gonna what?” You say, tilting your head to the side. You point your saber to the stormtroopers scattered around the alleyway. “I just saved you.” You close your saber and cross your arms cockily.

Din shakes his head, his gaze refusing to meet yours. “And where’s the kid? You just left him on the Crest?” You roll your eyes, turning your back towards him as you remove your cloak from your shoulders. There, in perfect condition, is Grogu, secure in a little carrier on your back.

“You really think I’d be that dumb?” Your words have a callous edge to them. Din had been far moodier than usual over the past few days, and with that came a strange overprotectiveness that you hadn’t seen before. It was starting to feel as if he thought you were going to mess up, that you couldn’t take care of yourself. “You think I’d put the kid’s life at stake?”

“That’s not what I meant.” The anger in his voice has all but melted away. You’re shocked by how defeated he sounds now.

You inhale deeply, taking a moment to calm yourself down. “So what did you mean, Din?”

“We don’t have time for this now.” He’s curt and almost a bit cold, his modulated voice echoing off the walls of the alleyway. “We need to get back to the ship.”

You hate the way he’s brushing you off, ignoring you, pushing you to the side. You didn’t need this; you didn’t need to put up with his shit. Not anymore. “What is going on with you?” The words come out louder, more aggressive than you meant them to.

Din takes a single stride towards you, his broad figure practically shoving you against the wall in the process. “We are not doing this here.” The feeling of him being so close to you clouds your mind. You can’t form a coherent thought, never mind a sentence. You want to say something, to stand up for yourself, but you can’t. “Now cut the shit so we can get back to the ship.” There’s that anger again, that finality in his voice.

In the distance you can hear stormtroopers chatting, whispering your name, mumbling on about Grogu, warning each other about the Mandalorian. Din was right. There was no time to hash this out here. You nod, finally caving in. Din takes a step away from you, immediately grasping your wrist in his hand before making a break for the Crest, just on the other end of the alleyway.

Somehow you make it without being seen. Din lets go of your hand, motioning for you to get on the ship. You make a b-line for the back and carefully remove Grogu from his carrier, placing him in his crib. You stand frozen in place in front of it, watching his eyes flutter open and closed as he slowly drifts off to sleep.

You don’t want to move. You rather watch the child you had come to care so deeply for sleep peacefully than deal with a massively enraged Din. The oncoming fight would most definitely wake Grogu, so maybe it was best for you to hide in the little corner that you had come to call Grogu’s bedroom, completely unnoticed. But obviously, that’s not an option. You begrudgingly step towards the end of the hull and decide to keep your hands busy by organizing the tiny stock of food that lined a makeshift shelf along the far wall.

You can hear Din’s heavy steps on the other side of the ship, presumably heading up towards the cockpit. After a few seconds and many annoyed grunts from Din, the ship is lifted into the air and away from danger.

You try your best to bring yourself to get angry at him, to yell some explicative across the hull of the ship and spit a curse in his helmet-covered face. You wanted the consequences, for him to storm over and scream back. But you couldn’t – because things weren’t normally like this. Din had always been kind, caring, protective even.

He'd leave the cockpit to grab a blanket from his cot when you fell asleep in the co-pilot’s chair. He’d come back and gently, yet silently, tuck you in with it. It was the only blanket he had. Sometimes you’d wake up in his bed, having been carried into it at some point during the night. He’d be awake, taking care of the child, flying the Crest, making sure nothing and no green baby woke you up.

You’d be lying if you said his doting behavior didn’t draw you to him, that it didn’t make you crave him. Every soft touch on your shoulder, every time you pretended to be asleep just to feel his arms wrap around you as he brought you to his cot. You’d let your stares linger a little too long from time to time, pushing past your reflection in his armor, searching for some sort of sign that maybe he feels the same.

You wanted him to come up behind you, rest his hands on your hips, squeezing softly at the exposed inch of skin where your top and your pants just can’t seem to meet, and whisper in your ear in that husky, modulated voice that he’s sorry, that he’ll make up to you by-

“Never, ever, do anything like that again.” You practically jump out of your skin at the sound of his voice. You quickly turn around, not realizing how close Din had gotten to you. His chest is practically flush against yours, the proximity causing you to stumble back against the shelf, threatening to bring it down with you.

Din immediately snakes an arm around your waist, keeping you from falling against the cold metal floors below. Your arms instinctively reach up around his neck to stabilize yourself. You’re glued to him now, and you don’t particularly want to let go. You swallow harshly, intimidated by the way the beskar clad man seems to tower over you, by the way you can smell him, by the way his forehead practically touches yours.

You take a deep breath, furrowing your brows and doing your best to collect your thoughts despite the fog that the moment seemed to create in your brain. “Do what? Save your ass?” You spit, instantly regretting the harshness of your words, even if he deserves them.

“You weren’t supposed to leave the ship.” He’s stern, his voice somehow punishing. “You were supposed to stay here with the kid.”

You shake your head, feeling far too much like a child caught playing in the front seat of their parent’s speeder. “You needed my help! You would’ve died out there without me! And I can handle myself,” You yell, trying to ignore how you could feel the rise and fall of his chest against yours. “If this is about risking the kid’s life, I promise you I wasn’t. I would never put him-,”

He cuts you off, “I know you wouldn’t, that’s not what this is about.”

What? You think to yourself, confused beyond belief. If this wasn’t about the child, then what could this possibly be about? “So then what’s the problem?” You ask, more aware of the way that Din is holding you against him now than you were before.

You can hear Din inhale deeply through the modulator. “You.” A shudder rolls down your spine. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.” There’s still an edge in his voice, but he’s calmer now, almost pained, as if considering your death in some dark corner of his mind.

“Sorry that my death would be such an inconvenience for you,” You say sardonically. “It’ll be hard trying to replace me with some other force-wielding wizard that’ll be willing to babysit for you, since clearly that’s all I am.” You wanted the words to sting him, to hurt him, and maybe they did, but it felt like a punch in the gut to simply think them. You wanted to grab the words from where they still hung in the air and shove them back into your mouth, to swallow them so that they could burn in the acid of your stomach.

Din tilts his head down, crushed, defeated. Your heart winces. Fuck. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” His stare finds yours again, and you quickly look down at his shoulder, too embarrassed to have him look you in your eyes.

You shake your head. “But Din, that’s the problem,” You say, somehow finding the courage to meet his gaze. “I don’t know what you mean. How am I supposed to know what you mean if you won’t kriffing tell-,”

“Fucking hell, I don’t want to lose you!”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

Din looks around the hull, as if the words he was searching for were hiding, wrapped somewhere around its silver walls. “I can’t lose you. And before you ask, no, it’s not because you train the kid or whatever the hell you think it is.” You can feel the pain in his voice, guilt quickly filling your gut. “It’s just…” He trails off, silence hanging heavy in the air.

“Well…what is it?” You mumble, struggling to force down the lump in your throat. You wish you could see his face, to get a sense of his expression, an inkling as to what he was really feeling.

“You,” He says, as if those three letters held some secret, omniscient being or meaning. To him, they did. It was you. You were the thing that kept him up at night, the thing that made him want to show every facet of his being for the first time in his life. “You’re reckless and careless and sometimes you drive me absolutely insane.”

You scoff. “Wow, what a glowing review of my services!”

Din shakes his head. “You don’t fucking get it. You’re so much more than that, because even though you drive me crazy,” He pauses; the modulator picks up his breath as it catches in his throat, “I know I’d never be able to spend an entire lifetime without you in it.”

You’re speechless. An entire lifetime? “Din I-,”

“Close your eyes.”

“What? You just said all that and you want me to close my-,”

“Just close your eyes. You trust me, don’t you?”

Of course I trust you, smart-ass, You think to yourself. So, you do what he says, shutting your eyes firmly. Then there’s a hiss, and then something clunks loudly against the floor. And then…

It’s warm, and soft, and smooth, and all those other perfect words someone would use to describe the perfect kiss. He has a mustache under all that metal, and now you know, because it tickles ever so gently just above your upper lip. His hands squeeze your hips just a bit tighter, pulling you further into his chest.

His lips press deeper into yours, hungrier. You keep your eyes closed tightly, your hands sliding up and into his hair, combing gently. He moans into your mouth at the touch as he guides you away from the shelf and towards his cot.

“D-Din,” You stutter in between gasps.

“What is it, mesh’la?” He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead.

You can feel the heat pooling at the bottom of your stomach, but there’s something stopping you, something telling you that there’s no possible way this could ever be real, that it wasn’t a set-up, that it wasn’t a dream. “Do you really want this?”

“More than anything.” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and you silently wish to yourself that you could see it. “Do you?”

You nod, repeating his words, “More than anything.”

His lips find yours again, his knee nudging in between your thighs as he pushes you down onto his cot. He’s on top of you now, his hands on either side of your body. “Wanted you for so long…” He whispers in your ear. “Wanted you this whole time.” Fuck, he was going to kill you.

Din presses sloppy kisses into the crook of your neck, leading up to your jaw. His hands stretch under the hemline of your shirt, his fingertips gliding across your stomach and towards the edge of your bra. You shudder as he reaches underneath, slowly inching towards your chest.

Something was changing within him, and that something was you. You made him want to throw his Creed away, to ignore all he had been taught his entire life. How could you ever possibly be something he shouldn’t have? He needed you.

More than anything. And you needed him.

“Please,” You beg. “I need you Din, please.”

And just like that, something within him finally switched.

“Open your eyes, cyare,” He’s so quiet you almost miss it. His fingers dip underneath your bra, rolling a nipple between his thumb and forefinger teasingly before doing the same to the other. “’Want you to look at me when I make you come.”

Panic rises to your chest. “W-what, are you sure? What about the Creed, what about-,”

“It doesn’t matter, not if it means I can’t have you.”

You wait a moment, giving him time to change his mind, but he doesn’t. You let your eyes flutter open, his curly hair and brown eyes flooding your vision. And Maker, there’s that smile, the smile you’d only heard through laughs and sarcastic, snide quips. You swear your heart skips a beat, maybe even two. He was perfect. Of course he was fucking perfect.

“You’re beautiful,” You whisper, your hands finding their way to his cheeks, his neck, your fingertips carefully running over his lips. His forehead rests down on yours, his eyes closing softly, reveling in the intimacy.

Din lifts himself off you and makes his way down your body, settling in between your legs. His fingers hook the waistline of your pants, tugging them down and throwing them somewhere in the hull. He feels your core through your soaked panties.

“So fucking wet for me, pretty girl,” He coos, practically ripping your panties as he pulls them down your legs. “Need to taste you.”

“F-fuck, Din,” You breathe sharply as his tongue laps at your clit, your hips lifting off the mattress. Din presses an arm across your hips, keeping you down against the cot, his free hand spreading your slick, teasing your entrance.

“’Tastes so good,” He rasps, his voice vibrating deliciously against your core. “Doing so good for me sweet girl.”

His mouth sucks harshly at your clit, taking the small bundle of nerves into his mouth, lapping at you like he was starving. You wanted more, needed more.

“N-need you, Din,” You whine, your hips fighting against the arm that held you down. He pushes you down further into the mattress, his mouth pressing even deeper onto your core.

“Not done with you yet,” He grunts, pushing two fingers into your entrance, pumping in and out, fast and hard. You could feel yourself growing closer with each thrust.

You moan his name like it’s a prayer, and in this moment it is. “Din, please, I, just…” But you can’t finish your sentence. It’s all too much, his fingers, his tongue, his voice, him. He was everywhere and everything all at once. And yet you needed more.

“Use your words, sweet girl,” He says patiently, nonchalantly.

“I want…” Your words fail again. “I…need you to f-fuck me, please.”

But he doesn’t stop, he keeps going. “I said I wasn’t done with you yet.” You could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers, teetering just on the edge.

“I’m so close,” You pant in between ragged breaths.

And then, abruptly, he pulls away, leaving you cold and empty. Before you can even think to sit up or reach out for him, he was back, his hips resting against yours, his pants and armor now somewhere scattered to the side. You could feel his cock throbbing against your inner thighs. He lines himself up with your entrance, teasing you.

“Din,” You whimper. “Plea-,”

He buries himself inside you, cutting you off, stretching you out. “So fucking tight,” He praises, pulling all the way out before thrusting back into you, filling you up again. “So soft, so perfect.” His fingers find your clit, circling the nerves roughly.

His forehead rests on your own as his left-hand searches for your right one. His fingers intertwine with yours just above your head, keeping you from drowning, cementing you there with him. It all feels so good, each pump, each circle at your clit. You can feel your walls clenching around him.

“Taking me so well,” He soothes, rocking into you. “Such a good girl.” It was all too much, his words, his cock.

“I-I’m gonna-,” You choke, white heat flooding your vision. You know Din isn’t far behind, his hips stuttering against yours.

“Come for me, sweet girl, that’s it,” Din moans, sending you over the edge. You feel yourself shattering underneath him, falling apart into a million pieces, only to be put back together again. His name slips off your tongue as he comes inside you.

His hips roll slowly against yours, gently rocking into you a few more times before pulling out.

He shifts a bit so that you can comfortably lay on his chest. After all that, there’s only one thing you can think about.

“You wouldn’t be able to live without me?”

You look up at Din. His smirk stretches into a smile. He presses a kiss to your forehead. “I wouldn’t, no.” He says it so matter-of-factly, so simply, as if it was common knowledge. “I need you. I always have.”

“I need you too.” He was the only person you had ever needed, the only exception. You didn’t need to tell him. He knew. Always has, always will.

You are the only exception

And I'm on my way to believing

Oh, and I'm on my way to believing

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weird-obsessed-girl · 5 months

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Bagginshield Fic Rec

I can’t believe I’ve had such an intense revival into The Hobbit Fandom after being obsessed with the movies when they came out just over 10 years ago now. There’s just some fandoms that have consistently amazing fanfics that are written beautifully and with such interesting concepts.

Some of these are a bit silly and cracky but i think that’s the appeal of The Hobbit, it’s a bit more cheerful than LOTR (vehemently ignoring Battle of the Five Armies)

So below is a list of fics I have loved reading organised by word count smallest to largest.

If you have any fics that you’ve read and don’t see here please share them with me! P.S, if you need more fics to read after these please check out the author’s other works.

Fanfiction Title - Author

Tags, description of fic | word count | rating

And Down the Road I Goes - pibroch (littleblackdog)

Kid!fic, mpreg, humour, dwobbits, beard problems | 1.3k | T

All That Glitters - BeautifulFiction

Everyone lives, post-BAFTA, Dwarven culture and customs, Dwarven jewellery | 1.5k | G

Truth - alkjira

Body image issues, post-BAFTA, everybody lives, Dwarven beauty standards | 1.9k | T

Brethren, Braids and a Bothersome Burglar - Frankensteins_Monster

Unintentional Dwarven courting, and then intentional after communication is cleared up, Hair Braiding | 2.3k | T

There is A Child - smileybagel

Foresight, canonical character death, Thorin POV | 2.7k | T

Of the King and Consort’s Portraits - undomiel (dolcewrites)

Cultural differences, painting portraits, Erebor and Shire Parallels, domestic fluff | 3.4K | T

Shorn - Avelera

Mourning ritual, Dwarf culture and customs, misunderstandings, pre-slash, Long-beards mentioned! 3.5k | G

A Chance to Make It Right - smileybagel

Thorin is offered a second chance, magical dreams of future children, second part to “There is A Child” | 3.6k | G

The Proper Way To Call You Mine - Fantasyinallforms

Hair braiding, post-BAFTA, misunderstandings, Fili and Kili meddling, getting together, jealous Thorin | 3.6k | T

And in our love u see golden things - Seungshi03

Goldsickness as a mental health condition, domestic fluff, consort Bilbo | 3.7k | G

Riddles in the Dark Brought into the Light - Lucigoo89

Everyone lives, post-BAFTA, PTSD, loooove fics where the trauma from the journey is included, background Dwalin/Nori | 3.8k | G

In More than the Wisdom of Years - jezebel_rising

Dis POV, everyone lives, reunions, Dis and Bilbo friendship | 4.2k | Not rated

A Dwarven Beauty - bevel_bee

Dwarven beauty standards, Bilbo is considered very attractive, but he’s very oblivious to the compliments, post-BAFTA | 4.6k | G

The Seven Gifts - snowmissus (soul_of_blaze)

Dwarf and hobbit courting, awkwardness, Bilbo remains in Erebor, miscommunication | 5.1k | G

The Stone’s Gift - SilverSkiesAtMidnight

Established relationship, consort Bilbo, “the Dwarven equivalent of cabbage patch hobbits”, dwarves made from literal stone, unplanned pregnancy | 5.2k | T

One Remedy for Gold Sickness (or maybe two) - randi2204

Bilbo uses an ancient hobbit remedy for greedy folks, flabbergasted dwarves | 5.8k | T * need to have an Ao3 account

Better an ugly face than an ugly mind - unpeumacabre

Dwarven beauty standards (and hobbit ones), Thorin POV | 6.1k | T

A Minor Problem - fideliant

Smut, thorin finds out Bilbo’s age, obliviousness to different species’ life expectancies | 6.4K | E

Bruises on the Heart - thehufflepuffhobbit

5 + 1 times, soulmate au, Thorin POV, bruises, sharing a bed, during the journey | 7.8k | E

Clue-finder - TheGrayKnight

Post-BAFTA, Dwarven courting, cultural differences | 9k | G

Queen Under the Mountain - benny_Laur

Character death (not really), Dis POV, I LOVE DIS, Requited love, Kili definitely should not be in charge of communications | 11k | Not rating

Call You Home - northerntrash

Hobbit culture, including hidden names (I like the hobbit side as it’s a popular trope that dwarves have hidden names), Thorin’s puppy-eyes, the company | 11.9K | Not rated

Planting a Hobbit - northerntrash

Everyone lives, post-BAFTA, homesickness, domestic fluff, Thorin builds Bilbo a garden trope! 13k | Not rated

Forget-Me-Not - kerkusa, LordOfTheRazzles

Established relationship, post-BAFTA, healing Thorin causes temporary amnesia, Dwarf and Hobbit courting (again) | 14k | G

Defying Death (or at least the ones in charge) - Lucigoo89

I have yet to read this yet but it looks very promising! Bilbo has died and now it’s time for him to smuggle himself into Mahalia Halls to see his love again | 15.1k | T

Ere Break of Day - alexaprilgarden

During the journey, falling in love, Dwarven Ones, soulmates, everyone lives, angst | 15.6k | E

The Different Shades of Bilbo’s Love - SunnyRose

Kid Bilbo wants to be friends with Thorin, consenting adult romance later on, friends to lovers, flower language, Belladonna Took! 17.5k | G

I have loved you and you have not known it - KaavyaWriting

Miscommunication, the company come up with a way of making friends with a hobbit that is inaccurate, jealous Thorin, during the journey | 17.7k | G

You Got Me - drunkonwriting

Company-centric, dwarf culture, fluff, during the journey, friendship fic | 18.9k | G

Gardening - The Feels Whale (miscellea)

Bilbo returns to Shire, Kid!fic, cabbage patch hobbits, Bilbo’s under the impression Thorin died (he’s wrong) | 19.7k | T

My Princess, My Love, Marry Me! - mordelle

Alt universe, Princess Thorin visits the Shire, pinning Bilbo, Thorin is considered ugly by Dwarven beauty standards, smut | 36.3k | E

#bagginshield #the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #middle earth #fanfiction #middle earth fanfiction #the hobbit movies #dwarf culture #mahal #dwarf courting #hobbit courting #Erebor #bilbo x thorin #bilbo Baggins x thorin Oakenshield #thilbo #thilbo bagginshield #dwarrow

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yujeong · 4 months

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I know the fandom loves making Pete have low self esteem in the sense of finding himself ugly and unworthy of being Vegas' "boyfriend" (to the point of having seen the tag "Pete's canonical low self esteem issues" in fics), but can I suggest the opposite?

Can we make Vegas feel self conscious about his appearance post canon?

Vegas, who now can't wear the clothes he used to because his scars will be visible, Vegas who now can't ride his bike or drink or party or torture or kill or stay awake all night or FUCK like before, Vegas who finds showering a chore, which leads to him letting his hair turn greasy on his head, who smells, whose breath stinks because he can't get up to brush his teeth, Vegas who now has to expose every single part of his everyday life to the most important person in his life, even the ugly parts, even the disgusting parts that he hates.

How could he bear Pete watch him struggle like this, how is it fair for Pete to have to deal with him unshaven and smelly and rotting in bed all day?

(Vegas, of course, is a huge hypocrite, because he kissed a feverish Pete who hadn't brushed his teeth in days, and found the taste sweeter than any type of candy he's ever eaten, because he ate Pete's ass when it had barely been washed at the safehouse and it was so good he couldn't stop, even after Pete had lost his mind in pleasure, because the black bags under Pete's eyes made him look otherworldly, because he became obsessed with Pete looking sick and tired as he laid next to him on the hospital bed, below all the layers of guilt he felt for putting Pete through hell multiple times.)

Please, please, I need it, and I need Pete to have the most confused look on his face as he hears Vegas whine and obsess over things he deems unimportant, because what Pete wants, what Pete has always wanted, is Vegas in his life, alive and with him.

#of course disclaimer that if people have this headcanon about Pete it's fine etcetc #I tend to think of his issues in a different way that's all #but yeah pls someone give Vegas some fucking self esteem issues #the man who needed sex appeal to win over Kinn would lose his fucking mind post canon #it's such a delicious thought I'm obsessed #pete saengtham #vegaspete #meta post

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invvuu · 8 months

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YOU WHO DREAMT OF ME (HOLY MOLY) — PARK SUNGHOON (an AO3 written series)

you had many dreams — becoming an idol and park sunghoon, your fellow bandmate, unit member, and romantic crush. you’ve somehow managed to achieve your dream of being an idol by a hanging thread, but achieving the dream of being with park sunghoon was nearly impossible, causing you to give up in making it real. juggling the many responsibilities as an idol wasn’t easy, as well as the personal problems you were facing as a whole person. you thought you would brush them off as something inevitable, things you believed that needed to be accepted. but when you wake up in a body of none other than jang wonyoung — sunghoon’s musicbank mc partner and upcoming member of ive — you knew you had to take matters into your own hands.

or aka, you and wonyoung switch bodies and you both find out and solve each other’s problems.

PAIRING. park sunghoon x 8th member-male!reader GENRE. AO3 written series, supernatural, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, friends to lovers, canon compliant WARNINGS. crying, sickness, and profanity (more will be seen/added in the ao3 preview)

﹙ ADDITIONAL INFO ﹚

available chapters ﹕ 0/? (not yet released)

fic mostly takes place during the time where jangkku became mcs, tamed-dashed era, and before ive debuted (but there will be timeskips)

this is a fanfic that i will be writing in my own time, so the updates will be slow (meaning the entire series might finish at the end of the year)

this is a work of fiction, do not expect everything in it to be accurate. please do not take this work seriously.

﹙ AUTHOR’S NOTE ﹚

╰ i’m happy to finally post this now along with my comeback !! this entire thing was thought of when i was rewatching jangkku clips (because i miss them huhu) and i-land. the series is also kind of inspired by holy moly by ive since i love their b-sides and the song in general. i don’t have that much stuff to say anymore but i hope you enjoy reading ywdomhm <3 (p.s. this was supposed to be posted the same time with my cb fic but i couldn’t wait lmao)

— access the work here !

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emilykaldwen · 4 months

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The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Eighteen

Rating: Explicit

Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

No tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3

Tumblr Masterpost

AO3 LINK

Author's Note: All my love and many thanks to @vampire-exgirlfriend for being my cheerleader, for taking my face in her hands and telling me that I word good, and that the story I'm telling is one that's valid. We all need a cheerleader like her.

EXPLICIT CONTENT

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - She'll Still Be Mine

Aegon distracts himself from his woes with some physical healing, weird talks with both his dads, and a night out with his best friend.

Emotions were a tempest inside Aegon Targaryen as riotous as the churning waters of Blackwater Bay. He slammed the heavy bedroom door behind him, the fury of it shaking the candles in their holders on the small table inside the door. Sunfyre was a growling, heated presence inside the cage of his ribs, pulsing in time with each beat of his heart. How he craved for fang and claw so all would feel his fury.

Too hot. His skin felt too hot, too tight, too much.

Aegon tore at the buckles of his doublet, peeling off the rich, green brocade and tossing it aside. It did little to assuage his feelings. Sick curled in his gut; an impotence he could do nothing about. He yanked at the ties at the throat of his linen shirt and his eyes landed upon the bottles on the table, where they’d been residing for the past few weeks.

‘Mother wishes you to dry out’, his siblings had said the night after him and Aemond had been dragged back to the keep, the betrothal announcement and his brother’s words swirling around his head. No more wine, no ale, no beer. Only ciders, or the watered wine they’d break their fasts with.

What good did that do him now, when nothing was at the ready to distract him anymore? Besides, it would be a shame for all these nameday gifts to go to waste.

Aegon cocked his head as he approached, swiping up the first bottle. He ran his thumb along the waxed cork, the familiar Arbor seal pressed on top. Thunder rumbled outside as Aegon worked his dagger along the seal with practiced ease, bits of wax falling to the floor like petals as he leaned against the window pane. The cool air that accompanied the end of the harvest season felt good on his heated skin, the spray of rain just outside a balm even if it was not quite what he needed.

What kind of man was he who could not protect who he loved the most? Over a moon had passed since his nameday, since Abby’s horrible scream ripped through the night. All Larys Strong had found in his investigation was that the bastard had worked in the kitchens for the past year. No family, a “quiet fellow”, with a few dalliances with the serving maids.

Nothing.

What cold comfort it was to his hunītsos, who could not sleep alone and had taken to his sister’s bed or pulled Wylla into her own. Few nights she’d even crept into his bed, mouth wet against his throat as he distracted her from her nightmares and fear, to replace everything with the thought of him and only him. How he could lose himself in her, the scent of the heady, dark rose and currant soap that clung to her skin, to forget about his lacking when she mewled his name, rutting against his cock separated only by her small clothes, his teeth worrying at the bite he’d left on her shoulder back in the tent, refusing to let it fade. How easy it was to be there, with her, than some stinking brothel with bought comfort.

Aegon gasped for air as the red dribbled over his mouth and down his chin, staining his shirt. Without thinking, he’d taken several pulls from the bottle. It was perfectly dry as it snaked down his throat, a familiar feeling of relief, and the taste of plum and cherry far more enticing than the ciders he’d been restricted to. He watched from behind the silver hair that fell into his eyes as lightning illuminated King’s Landing before a crack of thunder boomed, loud enough to startle him even though he’d been prepared for it.

Dragging the back of his sleeve over his mouth, he leaned against the ledge and shut his eyes, letting the storm mist across his face - the wind blowing north and thus, his room had avoided getting soaked. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Theraxis' great, gray bulk come slinking out from behind the wardrobe, watching him with large yellow eyes as he promptly flopped over onto his side and turned, looking at him upside down.

“The lords tell me should I need anything, I have only to call upon them,” he told the cat, putting to voice what he’d held inside him these weeks. “So ready they are to give me my sister’s birthright, I do not even have to ask them for it.” He shook his head, another pull to ease the rumbling ache. “What kind of man do they take me for?” Theraxis had the courtesy to blink at him, pawing at the air and he snorted softly.

“They take you for potential.” Aegon startled at the unexpected voice. Theraxis let out a pleased meow and scampered up, prancing on deceptively light paws towards his mistress. She was lovely in the firelight, the glow of it catching along the edges of her hair, her long braid slung over one shoulder. Gone were the light silks and fluttering linen of the warm months. She was clad in a dressing gown of cream, embroidered with vines and flowers, the sleeves slashed from her elbows, the lavender lining reminding him of the flowers she had in her room the other day. “Oh, hello my darling,” she cooed, dropping to her knees to greet her cat - the animal the size of a hunting hound, seemingly larger as he tried to crawl into her lap while she laughed. The gown she wore was a deep v at her neck, and he could see the ties and lace of her nightdress beneath.

Her delicate fingers scratched around Theraxis’ ears as he pressed his cheek against hers and finally, her eyes met his. “We haven’t talked about it. Is that why you were so upset just now?”

Aegon took another pull from the bottle and went to the table to grab one of the goblets resting there. “Your brother has no more news,” he said, not hiding the truth from her, but guilt spurred him to take another drink. Abby’s lack of response indicated she had either already been told or was not surprised. Or a dozen other things involving how she didn’t indulge in her far more unpleasant emotions.

She pressed several kisses to the top of the cat’s head before he padded to the door and she followed to let him out, shutting and locking it behind her. He said nothing, giving her time as she rested her head against the wood to gather herself and splashed wine into a goblet like a good betrothed. It was easier to make sure he didn’t drink all of it without letting her share, and surely some wine would loosen her anxieties, if not her tongue.

There were times he wondered if she would ever trust him with all the things she left unsaid - if she would ever trust anyone with them.

Aegon approached, boots thumping softly on the rich rug. She turned at the sound of his approach, watching him as he took a sip from the goblet before holding it up to her lips for her to have a taste, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. “He has no news. Cole and the whole fucking Kingsguard and the City Watch captain have found nothing.” Abby’s hand wrapped around the goblet to take another sip, and she looked so fragile, half in shadow with her back against the door, that he wanted to scream, to throw the bottle and demand the heads of the watch who were meant to be guarding the camp.

He took another swig from the bottle instead, drifting further into the room so she could not see his anger. Futile, he knew, but he’d not have her fear him, not when he was like this. Not when he feared himself.

“You wondered what kind of man the lords took you for,” she finally said and he knew a subject change when he heard it. Aegon scoffed and Abby tutted. “I said they see potential for someone to curry favor with. Your sister may be your father’s heir, Jeyne Arryn rules over the Eyrie, but your sister’s rule puts in doubt their own holdings. Should their sisters and their sister’s children then come before them, or the eldest daughter who married the heir to another keep? Not to mention a woman? Sitting the Iron Throne? Ruling over them when they would not even let their own wives do so?”

“It’s an ugly fucking chair,” Aegon complained.

“So you would not mind your wife ruling you?” was her teasing reply. Warmth spread through his belly - whether from Abby’s words of ruling him and the images that conjured to mind, or the reassurance she was not going to press him to ‘at least think about it’.

“I would not mind, for my wife is far cleverer than I.” The words were easy, calling her wife, that it nearly caught him off guard. Abby paused, teeth scraping over the pout of her lower lip, stained dark with the wine. He took the goblet from her to take another drink. “I do mind that they think me willing to steal my sister’s birthright - something made abundantly fucking clear that is not, and never will, be mine as long as our father lives. If her marrying Daemon did not cause it among-” He caught himself and shook his head. “Nothing will knock her from that pedestal. I mislike them thinking me such a monster.” It did not matter if he and Rhaenyra were close. They were far from it, and the war of jealousy, of anger and frustration towards her, did not mean he would take the throne from her in retribution, first born son or not.

Setting the bottle down on the low table before the fire, he lifted his arms, pushing up on his toes until his spine and shoulders popped deliciously. He groaned, tucking his hand beneath his shirt to scratch his belly and growled as he felt a cool hand join his, nails slightly sharper scratching against his skin and the fine hairs running along his skin, vanishing beneath his waistband.

“Decided to pet me instead?” he groaned happily, nuzzling his nose against the crown of her head and inhaling the bright scent of her hair. The distraction she provided was a good one and he let out a snort of laughter when she pushed him back onto the couch.

“You are most certainly not a monster, nor as awful as they try to paint you with such ambitions,” she said fiercely, immediately, and he held onto her defensive words and reassurance, let them be a balm to his wounded soul and the space where Sunfyre purred, content with the sweet and fierce words.

Aegon let his head fall back on the back of the couch and enjoyed the way she looked above him. Her face was slightly flushed from the wine, mouth stained red as a rosebud, small and plump and begging to be kissed. She was covered up in her dressing gown, no erotic enticement that he was used to seeing and yet she stirred his blood and his arousal all the same. ‘Lovely’, he thought, reaching a hand up to tug on the end of her copper braid, demanding her closer.

“I would devour you,” he murmured, licking his own wine stained lips. He’d tasted her off his fingers, but had yet to truly indulge the way he wanted. To escape into her was all he wanted, better than the wine that coursed through his veins. This was the vice he wished to indulge in, to lose himself in, and all the better with his Abrogail, his love.

Abby raised her eyebrows at him and pressed her hand to his knees to make room before lowering herself before him. His mouth immediately went dry, his lilac eyes widening as he took in her adorably focused look. First, she went for one boot, tossing it away, then the other followed and he settled in to be taken care of. Fingers, delicate with a needle, needy and demanding when in his hair, perfect when tangled with his own, began to work on the lacing of his trousers. His cock twitched, half hard already from her touch, and the groan Aegon made when she touched him had his toes curling against the rug.

Her giggle was sweet, as everything about her was. It was by no means the first time she’d taken his cock in hand, fingers struggling to wrap around his girth in a way that made him see stars, that begged to see her stretched around him, whimpering and whining to take him. This was no different. She drew him out, moisture already gathering around the head and her thumb immediately swiped to spread it around, a gentle squeeze following.

“Missed you,” he murmured, wrapping her braid around his hand once and tugged her closer. Abby’s pupils were blown wide and the flush of her cheeks was deeper, and he knew she liked the gentle pulling of her hair. Aegon had been delighted to discover how much she liked it when he handled her in such a way. “Fuck, you are so beautiful.”

Abby smiled, a shy look of a blushing maiden, before she leaned down and pressed a kiss to the tip of him his mouth jealous with need of her. He jerked at her braid in surprise and she yelped, shock rather than pain and an apology fell from him. Her eyes narrowed at him, assessing.

“Did you like that?”

No longer soft. No longer guileless. No longer his little rabbit; this was his kēlītsos, the little lion batting about its prey. Her thumb was idly stroking the underside of his cock in the way that sent him to shivering, balls aching, and he nodded. He lifted his free hand to cradle the soft curve of her jaw, thumb pressing against her lower lip. His heart was thudding. He’d wanted this for so long, had dreamt of it, but hadn’t asked, unwilling when she was so new to all of this.

Her mouth opened more, and he looked at the sweet pink inside, and Aegon released a long, shuddering breath.

“Please,” he whispered.

Abby’s teeth nipped at his thumb and he let her go, shifting around to give her more room. His fingers danced over the little buttons holding her dressing gown closed, tugging idly at one. Aegon wanted to tug at her collar, take a peek at her breasts, but the angle denied what sight was his. Another snort of laughter escaped him when she reached up to his chest to push him back. He watched, enraptured, as she opened her mouth once more, resting the salty, warm tip of his cock on the pillow of her tongue and wrapped her pretty lips around him.

“Jaw soft,” he told her through his groan. “Do not force yourself to take more.” She wouldn’t be able to, and he did not want her to hurt herself or him. Just as her sweet words soothed his woes, her mouth soothed him as well.

Aegon let himself fall into the warm tingle of wine and arousal pumping through his veins, gaze heavy lidded as his Abrogail pleasured him. The vision she was to him had him aching and it took everything not to force himself further into her mouth the longer she continued, to use his grip on her braid to guide her down. He would be good for her. A good teacher. He felt her sigh and moan around him, and praise fell from his lips.

“That’s a good lass… you’re doing so well,” he reassured her, delight settling into the heated knot in his belly with each happy wiggle she made. Even as the pacing of her mouth left something to be desired, or the moment where he felt the tease of her teeth before she adjusted and left him wanting more of that sharpness that had his breath catching, he still could not imagine a more intense experience. What she lacked in experience and technique, she more than made up for in exuberance and the simple fact it was her on her knees for him. Cassandra Baratheon might have had a mouth that could take him down, but his precious girl wanted him.

He desired nothing more than to be truly wanted.

Her mouth popped off, strings of spittle clinging from his cock to her lips as she gasped for air, eyes wet with the tears that came from taking him, and he hushed her, reaching up to stroke her cheek and smiling as she nuzzled into his hand. His thumb stroked over her mouth, spreading spit and his own essence until her lips shone with it, glossy and inviting. “Easy now, you can use your hand for a bit.” She was good at that. Abby nodded, eager, and tugged at the waistband of his trousers.

“Up,” she ordered hoarsely, and he complied, helping her work them down and off so there was no barrier. Aegon reached behind his head to tug off his shirt and lifted a foot to rest on the table behind her, lazy and languid, balls tight and aching. A whine stuck in Abby’s throat, those depthless eyes looking up at him as she leaned down, tracing her tongue along his balls, her hand sliding down to cup them the way he’d taught her. Long licks, kisses, each different affection, had Aegon feeling as if he’d spill all over her and ruin her pretty gown. “You are being so good for me,” she told him when she lifted her head from him to smile up at him.

“I want to be good for you,” he swore with a frantic nod. “I will be, I promise. Please don’t stop.”

Abby had the gall to giggle at him. It was then that Aegon noticed that one of her hands disappeared and he realized that it had slid beneath the gap of her dressing down, her nightgown beneath bunched up. A fresh wave of heat washed through him at the idea of her own arousal so demanding from this that she needed to find relief.

Oh, his poor kēlītsos.

“I want to taste you,” she whispered, and he could hear the catch in her voice, just there when he knew her arousal was growing. Abby’s hand worked him, slick and perfect with that slight twist of her grip and he nodded.

“Please,” he begged again. “Clever girl, you’ve learned so fast, you can do it. I know you can.” He tugged on her braid again, hard enough for her to feel it, and it drew a moan from her, the arm that was tucked beneath her gown moving a little faster. “Open up, you’re almost there.” His words were catching with his anticipation as he fed her his cock once more and Abby took him with an eager whine that vibrated up from the base of his spine. His hips jerked towards her, unable to help himself, and she choked as more of himself forced inside but she didn’t stop, taking him with greedy, needy sounds. Then, her other hand joined and the sensation of her wet fingers stroking against his balls and the soft skin just behind had him seeing stars.

It was over nearly as soon as it had started and he was falling into his end like he was still a green boy, the pressure at the base of his spine imploding, pulling him farther and farther down until he was pushing her away, attempting and failing to warn her of what came next. Abby's eyes were wide, wet and blue and endless, as he came, her name choking off in an almost pathetic cry. She was not deterred, the first of his spend catching along her cheek before she was taking him in hand, continuing to stroke him as he caught along her chin and mouth, over her pretty dressing gown that he got to ruin after all.

Aegon did not care, his vision blurry, everything focused on the feel of her hand, the pleasure of his release, the way the milky white spend decorated her. There was a strange sense of waste in the back of his mind that he did not give more thought to but knew where it came from. That time would come soon enough.

He fell back against the couch, limbs soft and tingling, his own mouth wet, his skin heated in that satisfying, post-peak flush even more the better for it was Abby that brought it on, because she loved him. Gods, he loved her. He loved her so much he could not find all the words for it.

“I love you,” he panted, head lolling over to his shoulder as he gazed at her, fondness, affection, everything he could not put into words heavy in his tone.

“I love you too,” she returned, voice rough and weighted and just as sincere, meeting him in the place between them. Affection surged through him and Aegon tugged at her braid again before dropping it, hands reaching for her arms to draw her up his body, his eyes dark and heavy as her tongue swiped against the silkiness of him against her mouth. In a daze, he reached up to push more of it off her chin and into her mouth, and she noisily sucked the taste of him off his fingers.

Eager and adventurous, Abby was not some soft maiden, frightened of a romantic touch. Nay, Abby was an eager lover, excited to be with him, wanting to be with him. How many years had he spent chasing a peak that he could not name, throwing money at women, men sometimes, trying to find the piece that he craved. He was far more experienced than she would ever be, and how he desperately wanted to take her, to bury himself in the home of her body.

How easy it would be, and yet it was the knowledge that it was expected of him to 'ruin' her before their wedding that stopped him. To get her fat with his child, to take some kind of advantage of her, to only sate his own desire. The way the bitter bitch of a septa had grown horrified at their needy kisses in the gallery, to Aemond's angered remarks in the library, to Mother's hawk-sharp stare every time Aegon drew close, the reminders to Abby about 'virtue' in his mother's solar in the evenings. The idea that he was seen as some insatiable, lust filled creature who could not be trusted to control himself, raked hot against his insides. The way he was judged, and the way he knew she would be judged, left him feeling just as strange and raw as the assumptions that he coveted his sister's birthright.

To deny himself the full pleasures of his body allowed him to shake away his own past; to discover in the slow build up of all that brought her pleasure was a new experience and one that he would draw out - to deny himself the pleasure just as he denied her the full experience of him - to build up the anticipation was too enticing.

He kissed her then, the taste of wine, of her and him, making his belly burst into excited moths like the ones pinned to his sister’s collection boards. Abby was shivering and filled with tension as her own peak had not yet been realized, but she came into him eagerly, a needy thing in heat, and he would sate her as she had so kindly and sweetly done for him.

“You are a mess,” he chuckled, and Abby’s flushed skin burned deeper once more. He pondered for a moment before wrapping his arms around her and rising from the couch.

She squealed, a delighted sound, and clung to him as he took her to the bed and deposited her amidst the soft blankets. He braced his arms on either side of her, capturing her mouth for another kiss before he pulled away to get a clean cloth to wipe the rest of her face with. The water in the basin was cool, and he took his lady firmly by the chin to work on wiping her face. Even as Abby’s giggles filled the room, she remained pliant and well-behaved, teeth worrying on her lip as he cleaned her up.

“Ticklish, are we?” he teased her, fingers fiddling with the buttons on her dressing gown. There were only five of them. Five annoying little bastards kept him from her perfect breasts.

“How dare you tease me when I performed so well,” Abby replied with her nose tilted in the air haughtily, which bared her throat to him and the slick shine of spend clinging to her skin. He dove in, licking it up with the flat of his tongue, pushing her back onto the bed as he hovered over her, devouring her neck with exaggerated sounds as if he were Sunfyre feasting upon a carcass. She shrieked, giddy and squirming, his captured prey, and he growled and hummed against her throat and lost himself in the sound, in the scent of her. “Oh no! The dragon is going to eat me!” she cried, pushing at his shoulders as fiercely as she clung to him. He groaned, grinding his hips against her as he felt the bite of her nails in his skin, the edge of pain soothing amidst the pleasure.

The dragon was, indeed, about to feast.

He would be as good of a boy as she had called him and not tear the dressing gown. Aegon took his time to undo each of the fastenings, easing her out of the pretty fabric before tossing it blindly behind him.The nightgown beneath was simple - cream colored linen with pink ribbon laced through the neck, little ruffles along the ends of her sleeves. Nowhere near the near sheer gown he was used to seeing her in. There was something sweet in this, something that called to the dark thing in him that demanded he ruin, and he nuzzled between her breasts, tugging at the pink ribbon with his teeth to hear her laughter again. How much better to have wine in his blood and the sound of her in his ears to chase away all the dark thoughts that haunted the corners of his mind, chasing endlessly, predator to prey. Aegon’s teeth snatched at a nipple, peaked beneath the nightgown, the damp of his mouth soaking into the material.

Abby’s fingers dove into his hair, her other hand grasping desperately at his shoulder as she arched into him. There had been no sweeter experience than discovering all the ways she found pleasure, and Abby was deeply responsive. Not in the way the others had been - responding only to what he sought regardless of the pleasure, only for what he paid them for. Abby was a taut string, full of ticklish spots and places that made her whimper and writhe. Aegon wondered if he could make her peak from toying with her breasts alone - he’d heard for some that was possible, and he was curious if it would be the case for his love.

He kept her clothed, the need inside him thrashing against the restraint, wanting to devour her, to take her and make her his without question. Aegon’s mouth continued to focus on the ripe swell of her breasts while his hand reached down to tug her gown up over her thighs, reaching beneath the fabric to tug her smallclothes away, fingers working at the tie. She was a clever girl, reaching down and helping him remove them until he could touch her freely. Aegon sighed, long and low, vibrating at the feel of her silky and warm against his fingers. A final nip at her breast and he slid down the bed between her thighs. Aegon laughed as they spasmed, and Abby tried to close them around his head.

“Let me,” he coaxed her and she squealed, softly, wriggling against the bed.

“What are you doing?” she asked, voice hushed, and he pressed her thighs apart, Abby letting them fall as he hooked a trembling thigh over his shoulder.

“Kissing you.” Aegon stroked her thigh soothingly and nipped along the soft skin of her thigh. She jerked beneath him with a needy whimper and her fingers found themselves in his hair once more. With a content sigh, Aegon leaned forward to stroke the flat of his tongue softly along the seam of her, the taste of salty and sweet bursting on his tongue. Abby gave a choked cry before it turned muffled and he lifted his head to see her shoving her nightgown over her mouth to muffle the sound. He chuckled and pressed a kiss to the warmth of her, humming so she could feel it and how she squirmed and wriggled at the sensation. Aegon wanted to tell her that she shouldn’t muffle her sounds - he desperately wanted to hear her, every sound, every sigh, to hear his Abrogail whimper and beg for him.

Though he knew how loud Abby could be and the last thing he needed was his mother finding out about this.

Aegon kissed his way back down, avoiding the place where she ached the most and tending to the rest of her. Spreading her with his fingers that knew her so intimately, and allowing his tongue to do the work, kissing her here as well as he kissed her ripe mouth. Seven help him, all he wanted to do was feast upon her with abandon, to hold her down as he brought wave after wave of pleasure over her. Not now though, not yet when he’d never touched her like this, and there were so many new things to learn about her, and what brought her the pleasure she so deserved.

It was so simple to fall into it, the enjoyment in the tasting of her, his hands stroking along her thighs, along the tender flesh behind her knees, reaching up to stroke her belly and feel her desperate hand grab his, clinging to him as she rolled her hips into his touch with a growing insistence. When he wrapped his mouth around the tender bud, another sound ripped through her, back arching, sound muffled behind her attempts at quiet. Her fingers pulled in his hair and he felt it shoot straight through his cock, feeling the stirrings of his arousal come back. He growled softly, nipping along her thigh near the crease, the little mole there a hidden thing only for him. Teeth nipped harder, curiously, and Abby cried out again, fingers pulling at his hair and something dark and molten stirred in his chest. The need to bite her, to break her tender skin, leave a scar of his teeth there for him to admire, for her to touch when she needed him, coursed through him, the needy, feral thing inside of him demanding it. It could match the mark he’d been deepening along her shoulder, that filled him with a heated possessiveness every time he touched or saw the evidence of his claim.

Not yet. He couldn’t yet, not here, not now. But he could leave a bruise, mouth worrying at the soft skin of her left thigh as he left numerous marks along her collarbones, places she could hide and cover. When they were free at Harrenhal, he would not let her hide them. Let them see how much he loved her, how much he craved her.

How Abrogail belonged to him.

Aegon picked up his pace as her hips grew insistent, her fingers tugging harder on his hair, wordless mumbles and whimpers peppered with her gasping, “Please,” and “Aegon,” and even something whispered in her mother tongue, the words giving her a twist and lilt to her tone, “Mo realta geal.” It took only two swipes of his tongue over her clit to have her crying out, slick gathering along her folds, her body trembling at the newness of the sensations, and the familiarity of the peak he gave her. He moved back to press kisses along her thighs and up to press more of them along the clenching muscles of her belly.

“I’m not done yet,” he told her, watching in delight as she managed to prop herself onto her elbows, face flushed and her beautiful eyes heavy lidded. Before she could say anything, his tongue swiped at the fresh rush of arousal once more, insistent this time, the pressure increasing from his more exploratory efforts earlier.

He let the need take over, the touch of his teeth nipping at her skin, the way the tip of his tongue danced Valyrian letters over her to find which motions drew her desperate and frantic. After her second peak, Aegon pressed two fingers inside of her, giving her the sensation that he knew she instinctually craved by the way her moan was full of relief, and the shocked cry as he carefully pressed a third inside of her. His mouth and chin shone with the evidence of her, his other arm banding over her stomach to keep her frantic hips steady as he feasted on her, his thank you for her eager display at pleasuring him from earlier. After the third wave crested, Aegon withdrew to press his wet mouth against her belly, working his way up to settle further between her thighs, cock aching as his arousal returned. When he brushed against her, he whimpered, and beneath him, Abby’s hips rolled up trying to catch him. He knew that motion, the way she angled her hips, the way her eyes, blue and wet and blown black, gazed up at him.

“Aegon-”

He cradled her jaw with damp fingers, his eyes focused on hers, the little freckles sprinkled along her nose and cheeks. A harsh swallow, his throat bobbing, and he let her rock her hips up against his, feeling the slick warmth of her body against him, knowing that after her peaks, she’d be ready for him. It would take little to settle himself and bury his cock inside her sweet cunt.

Their breaths came out in tandem. Heavy gasping filled the air as he lowered his head to press his forehead to hers, noses touching, breathing in each other’s exhales. While he cradled her jaw, Abby reached down between them to wrap her fingers around him, guiding the tip of him along her folds.

“Careful,” he warned her, thumb pressing lightly against the pretty, fluttering pulse in her throat.

“I will,” Abby whispered, voice little and delicate, a mewl as her eyes fluttered, his cock rubbing along the seam of her, bumping along the apex of her. “I need you… I hate waiting…”

He kissed her softly, the arm he was propped up on shaking. “I know, hunītsos… soon. We won’t leave our bed for days, I swear,” Aegon promised her. “I’ll tie you to it, have my way with you. Hells, you can tie me down and have your way, darling.”

“And I’ll say thank you,” she gasped and he could feel the clenching over her body, the fluttering of her cunt against his cock as she peaked again, a little ripple compared to the waves from before but all the same. “As I thank everything I ride.”

It wasn’t more than a moment before he spilled over her for the second time, his spend dripping across her cunt and slipping across the back of her hand. Their moans were soft, muffled as she swiped her tongue in his mouth, and he gave himself over to her, settling into the softness of her body.

Soon.

Soon she would be his, forever.

The double doors to the king’s apartments had intimidated Aegon since he was a boy.

That was their purpose, after all - to be intimidating and guard the sanctum of the monarch. Aegon wondered if his namesake had wanted such doors, or if this was from the menace that Maegor had sought to employ. Were they modeled on the lord’s chambers on Dragonstone? He’d only been to the island a handful of times and had never made it towards those sacred apartments that his elder sister now kept. The ironwood imported from the North was dark and gleaming, the intricate carvings of snarling dragons flying through the knots and whorls of the deeply polished wood. The handles themselves were cast iron, the sinewy body reminding him of Sunfyre’s sleek frame, wings splayed out to press against the door.

Sers Lorent Marbrand and Steffon Darklyn flanked the entrance, the elder Ser Lorent looking at him with his hand raised to open the doors for him but had paused at whatever look was on Aegon’s face. The man was not much older than Ser Criston, his auburn hair gleaming a shade of molten gold in the shaft of afternoon light.

If his father was dead behind that door, would the men standing here bend the knee to him, swear fealty to the king’s first born son? Or would they flee to Dragonstone to throw themselves at Rhaenyra’s feet? Would the blood of he and his brothers still coat their blade?

‘You are the challenge, Aegon. Should Rhaenyra take the throne, your life may be forfeit.’

Would it really? If he didn’t matter to this man?

‘But you do matter,’ a little voice stroked at his thoughts. ‘Near a full moon’s turn, this castle was filled with the expectation that you would be named heir. Finally acknowledged. The rights as first born son finally, finally extended to you. Finally, Sire would have to acknowledge that he beget you, could no longer ignore and wish you were a dead child born to a dead woman.’

The people had cheered for him. They had called for him.

Would being king make that worth it?

Aegon tugged at his left cuff, tucking his fingers inside where the favor was wrapped comfortingly around his wrist over where she had scratched him all those weeks ago. Warmth flooded through his veins, and the knots in his chest eased, and the scent of her rose and currant perfume oil danced through his memory.

It didn’t matter. None of this mattered; the king did not matter, not anymore. For once, Aegon found himself relieved to greet the day, one step closer to escaping this city and leaving the machinations and the ghosts behind. The future was no longer a dim, necrotic thing, a looming noose waiting for him to climb the gallows. His mother and the Tower’s ambitions, once smothering and all consuming, now felt like something he could finally escape. He had dreamed for years of fleeing across the Narrow Sea to the pleasure houses of Lys, or the once secret city of Braavos, and to know that the Riverlands held such an escape for him, away from the legacy of his forebears and into the life of a country lord, allowed him to finally breathe.

Ser Lorent opened the door and announced his presence. “Prince Aegon, Your Grace.”

It took everything in him to not wrinkle his nose at the medicinal scent that clung to the cloying drifts of incense as he stepped into the room, the great door shutting behind him with enough of a thud that he fought not to flinch. It reverberated through his bones, and Aegon had the mad thought that it was the stone door of a tomb, trapping him inside with the shambling corpse of his sire.

Whatever new concoction Maester Orwyle had been giving him appeared to have staved off the rapid decline he’d been experiencing beneath Mellos’ care. The rot had eased somewhat, and the king’s mind was clearer. He sat beside his table, a great book before him making notes about a new expansion, no doubt. Aegon approached quietly as his father did not acknowledge him right away, and for the first time in some years, he took stock of the Freehold.

The scent of stone dust in the air struck another memory. This was one where he was smaller, mother preoccupied with Daeron’s first steps. He’d slipped in behind Lord Lyonel to lay on the cool stone beneath the table. His father had found him later, surprised, before Aegon had explained that he was too hot and the ailing king got down on the floor and lay beside him. He’d been so surprised that his sire had joined him that he froze, uncertain as to what to say. The king had filled the silence, speaking of how dragon’s blood runs hot in their veins through the bond they have with their mounts. He’d spoken of the theories of the magic that created the dragons, that made them, the Valyrians, different from mortal men so they might ride in the skies.

His breath caught in his throat as his sire patted his hand.

“You’re a good boy, Aegon.”

“Thank you, father.”

The Freehold had expanded further, nearly pressed up against the balcony doors if not for the slight gap behind it for one to get through to open the doors. His father’s quill scratched across the paper, fully occupied with whatever thought he was absorbed in. Aegon’s eyes rove over the buildings, and settled on the great dragon carving perched upon a platform on one of the buildings. The wings were broad things, beginning to spread open, its thick neck arched, its head a rough shape that reminded him of Vhagar. If only it were painted, decorated the way the frescos and murals of the Holdfast were.

Aemond would surely know more about what Aegon was looking at, what this district was meant to be, but Aegon knew that even his brother’s voracious appetite did not hold a candle to their father’s obsession. Aegon doubted even Gaemon and Daenys the Dreamer could recreate the Freehold in such detail. Had the warlord Aenar thought of teaching his grandchildren of Valyria? Or had the coming of the Doom and losing everything they’d ever known, the people and places that were once home, been too painful of a thing?

“I am not sure if that dragon will speak to you no matter how hard you look at it.”

The chuckle that followed was raspy and Aegon jerked as if caught doing something he shouldn’t, backing away from the table before he broke anything just by being too close. He looked up, his sire’s dark lilac eyes so like his own, cloudy with his illness that had prematurely aged him.

Aegon’s hands shifted, wiping his palms on his legs to keep from crossing his arms protectively over himself. He did not know how to speak to the man before him, and all thoughts and preparations he’d made that morning, going over what he’d say to him in his head had all vanished.

“Sunfyre is a good listener, but I don’t think dragons make the best conversationalists, stone or otherwise,” he said, his voice higher than he’d intended.

Another chuckle and a shake of his head. “No, they do lack that needed ability to carry on the other end of a conversation.” He hummed in the way that Aemond had. “The lords of the realm had nothing but good things to say of you, my boy. An impressive feat of might in the tourney. Lord Edmund came to beg for reparations for his injury. I told him he had fought well, but let us not mewl over being bested by someone better, hm?” A shake of his head and the king set his quill down, his full attention on Aegon in a way he had not experienced in some time.

A heated sensation coursed through Aegon and he couldn’t figure out where it had started. He felt it spread in his chest, along the back of his neck and into his cheeks, not quite embarrassment, not quite pride either, but something that felt in-between, as if being seen was both a good thing and an embarrassing thing.

“Everyone knows.”

“I imagine the man is sore knowing not only has he lost to me in front of the realm in combat, but the hand of my Lady as well,” Aegon said, fingers twitching along his wrist for the reassurance he needed once more. It was easier to speak of things not quite himself, than to figure out how to respond to his king’s approval. Even his grandfather had little complaint at how he conducted himself during the festivities. There’d even been approval as to the attacker in the camp as well.

Thinking about it still caused Aegon’s blood to boil, the ache in his hands to raise that bastard from the dead and tear him apart himself.

“You will do well, I think,” the king continued “in your own country house. I envy you the escape, in truth, and it will be good for you. Get out on your own.”

As if Aegon was being sent to a hunting lodge in a little village, and not the largest castle in the realm, beneath the eye of Lord Tully and half the banners displeased at Aegon’s presence, and the others who spent time vying for favor. Still, the king’s platitudes strangely bolstered Aegon and he straightened his shoulders, coming around the table slowly, lingering along the edges of what looked like a market.

“Thank you, father.” Aegon was pleased that his voice did not falter on the word. “I’m looking forward to it. Sunfyre will enjoy the freedom, and I know Abby is looking forward to creating a household.” Aegon was still trying to learn their names outside of the twins who had remained in King’s Landing with both Abby and Helaena, as well as the bubbling and babbling Ryger, who was helping Abby practice the River tongue, and in turn, she was practicing with him. Warmth spread through his chest and he finally met his father’s gaze. “I came to ask about the family jewels.”

“Oh?” The king settled in his chair, a curious tilt to his head as he waited for more.

Aegon swallowed. “Yes. Abrogail is to be my wife, a princess of House Targaryen. It is only fitting that she have her own pieces from the treasury, and I’d like to pick some for her.” He took a breath, forging on before he could lose his nerve. “I would also like to make some custom pieces, that would be hers to… heirlooms. I saw how pleased she was to receive some of her mother’s things. I’d like for her to have that for our own children.”

He imagined Abby’s belly, round with child, his child, their family. Abby, dripping in jewels that he’d chosen for her, that brought out the sparkle of her eyes, the red of her mouth, to glimmer around her throat and in her curls. Aegon’s fingers twitched beside him as if he could reach into his mind for her, to draw the vision in reality.

“Mmm…” That hum, again so like Aemond’s and yet so very not, broke through Aegon’s thoughts and he watched his sire nod, reaching for a piece of parchment. “True enough. Let it not be said that House Targaryen does not care for their own. Women do love jewels.” A dry chuckle. “You should be careful how frequently you give them to her. She’ll come to expect a piece for every minor inconvenience. What one must do to keep the peace.” There was a scratching across the parchment, a pause before it resumed. “One of the crowns, of course. And jewels for… two pieces. I think that is more than enough to supplement whatever House Strong holds in their own treasury.”

He held the parchment out and Aegon closed the distance, as close as he dared, to take it from him. “Take this to Lord Beesbury’s office. He holds the keys to the treasury.”

“They’re not held by your own office?” Aegon asked curiously, glancing down at the scratch of his sire’s hand. A tiara and jewels for two pieces. Aegon wanted to cry that it was not enough, that it would never be enough, but it was more than he had truly expected. To be given this so willingly had left him feeling lightheaded; he’d been prepared to defend his request and to not have to was a strange feeling.

It was not something he thought he should get used to.

“No, the treasury holds the taxes, which in turn goes back to the people. Wars, tourneys, the maintenance of the King’s Road. The servants here and at Dragonstone, the upkeep of the Red Keep. The allowance for you and your siblings to fund all that drinking and merrymaking that I know you like. Your mother’s ladies, the Kingsguard, the Dragonpit… Feeding dragons is not cheap.” The king laughed again and Aegon prickled at it, uncertain how to handle the man before him talking with him so normally, as if they were truly father and son. He ran his tongue over his teeth behind his lips as his sire settled back in his chair and the heavy, dusty book in front of him. “No need to pay double the guard to simply store our things somewhere else. Take that to Lord Beesbury, and do give him my regards, boy.”

Boy. At least it was better than Baelon.

Aegon looked at the paper in hand, permission so unexpectedly granted, before his feet moved and he knocked on the door for it to open. The heavy thing swung open, Ser Lorent giving Aegon a slight nod and…

“Ser Criston,” Aegon said, not quite hiding his surprise to see his mother’s man standing there. Lilac eyes searched the Dornishman’s face as Ser Lorent closed the king’s door behind them. If Aegon didn’t know any better, he’d think that before the man’s features smoothed out, he might have looked worried. Ser Criston? Worried? The thought didn’t seem to register with him. He’d seen Ser Criston look concerned when one of them took a particularly nasty blow in the training yard and blood was involved. He’d seen concern when Helaena was having one of her struggling moments where she needed to get away from everyone.

“Your Grace.” The knight’s voice was low as he fell in step beside Aegon, a half step behind as he did with his lady mother. Unlike the last time, all those weeks ago after the knight had tried to give him advice, there was no air of judgment radiating off the man. “Prince Daeron expressed his wishes for the pair of you to go flying.”

“Did he? Well, I’ll find him after this.” A smile stretched along Aegon’s face. Daeron had been incandescent with the prospect of going flying with his siblings now that Tessarion was big enough to take a rider, and Aegon knew Helaena had gone out with him already. Aegon tried not to feel guilty for it, since there would be plenty of time for the pair of them to ride together without Mother fretting all the while.

"Your Grace."

Aegon paused and turned to look at the knight, uncertainty raising the hairs on the back of his neck. 'This is it', he thought. This was when the lecture would start, when Ser Criston Cole, his mother's sworn shield and protector, the man who first taught him how to hold a sword, who had been there when he was frightened and afraid after Daeron's birth, when Mother was bedridden, when the maesters feared she would not make it, would take another piece from him, and Aegon wondered if it would be that one piece that would send him toppling into shambles.

Nothing he'd done would matter. Nothing would be good enough.

"I have not had the time to tell you how well you've done," came the words that Aegon struggled to register. "I must admit, I was uncertain how things would turn out given your long time away from training, but..." Cole shook his head, a smile crossing his handsome face. "That was an inspired fight, my prince. You took what I've taught you and what you've learned on your own and used it well."

A flush of heat rushed through Aegon, that sudden nervous flush that usually came from shame, but in this moment felt strangely optimistic. "Thank you, Ser Criston," he said, voice stilted, mouth dry.

"You've handled yourself admirably these past weeks, my prince," Cole continued. "I am proud of you, and the man you've shown yourself to be, and I have made that known to your mother." His dark eyes shifted away as his fingers drummed against the pommel of his sheathed sword. Praise was hard earned from Ser Criston, and something Aegon had thought he himself had long given up chasing, as Aemond received it so easily. "She worries for you, of course."

"Of course," Aegon said faintly, eyes burning and he cleared his throat. He was, much like in his sire's room, a boy once more, small in many different ways. The weight of expectation was looming and all he wanted to do was run from it, and how unforgiving the failure could be. Yet he yearned for it. "Thank you for your kind words, Ser Criston." Stilted. Unsure. Aegon felt foolish. He felt like something else was looming and it wasn't coming.

"Should you wish to continue training, I would be glad of it," the elder continued, peering back at him. "With your uncle, Ser Gwayne, coming with you to Harrenhal, you would also be in good hands."

"I will consider it, Ser Criston," Aegon said quickly, desperate to escape the strangeness of receiving praise. "Is this why you came looking for me?"

Cole was quiet, watching him for a moment before shaking his head. "I heard you had gone to see the king." There was more to the statement but Cole did not finish it, and Aegon was not certain how to take it. Had Cole been worried for him? "Your mother did express hope you would join her in the Sept after supper for evening prayers, but I did not think she would ask you outright. That task might be left to the Lady Abrogail.”

Aegon grimaced at the idea of it. He had accompanied his mother to her prayers over the years, had found his own sense of comfort not in the gods, but in the quiet time with her. The way Mother’s face would relax in the candle light, the whispered prayers, even stories of his grandmother who had died a handful of years before he’d been born. The moments were precious to him, were moments where the gulf between them did not feel more than a trickling creek, where Mother’s hand rested warmly between his shoulder blades or stroked her fingers along the nape of his neck as she did when he was small.

“I’ll attend with her tonight,” he said softly. “Thank you, Ser Criston. Please send my mother my wishes.”

“A round!” Aegon declared, hopping up onto the bench, his hand gripping Alyn’s shoulder. “For Alyn Hull! The best fucking man I know!” He giggled, pleased with himself even as Alyn smacked him in embarrassment, ignoring his protestations and dropping back down in his seat.

The Shallows was a tavern they had only recently become more acquainted with as Aegon drew further from the Street of Silk, and Alyn’s aunt and uncle ran the place at the top of the street from the main docks. It had become a comfortable place, all considered, and Aegon had found excitement in the stream of sailors and bards that frequented the place, often only in the city for a night or two, with tales from the Stepstones and the fighting, of far off Myr with their new inventions, Braavos and their clever fighting men.

“You’re ridiculous,” Alyn shook his head, shoving at his shoulder once more as stabbed a hunk of meat out of the stew.

“He’s not,” came the clipped tone, a northern burr tempered by the southern accent. Fresh tankards of the house ale were set on the table as Bri shook her head. The deep green of her kirtle looked nearly black in the low light of the tavern, her skirt tucked up in her wide black belt. “It’s what you deserve.” It was Alyn’s turn to receive a hit as she shoved at his shoulder, before Alyn grabbed her hand and pulled her into him to kiss her cheek.

“You just can’t wait to get rid of me,” he complained. “You’re so happy the prince is dragging me all the way to Harrenhal so you can finally run away with Beric Storm.”

Aegon reached for his tankard and quickly occupied himself while the pair fell into their bickering, and he was quite certain Alyn’s hand had made it to the wench’s backside. He rolled his eyes and turned to look out at the rest of the room from their vantage point at the back of the tavern. Below, the crush of small folk were cheering as the drinks were dispersed, shouts of ‘Hail Prince Aegon!’ in thanks and calls and well wishes for Alyn.

“I’d have no one else by my side, Hull,” Aegon said after Bri returned to her duties, grasping his friend by the shoulder.

“Who else would keep you alive?” countered Alyn with a snort. “I consider it a fine payment for my bodyguard services to you over the years.” Aegon prickled at how transactional Alyn made it sound, a frown crossing his face before Alyn’s hand gripped his shoulder in return, drawing his attention back to him. “We have had fun here, in the city, have we not?” he asked, a smile instead of his usual playful smirk crossing his face. “TIme for us to have a new adventure. How robust do you think the city life of Harren Town actually is?”

“Fuck if I know,” Aegon said shortly, still prickling but trying to shake it away. “You can bring your girl with you.”

“Nay,” Alyn murmured, taking a swallow from the fresh tankard. “Bri promised to stay with my mother until Addam’s back from the Stepstones.” Alyn’s elder brother was serving in the Velaryon fleet, fighting down south in Lord Colrys’ war. “She won’t leave until he’s safe and returned to us.” Aegon nodded, understanding. The Hulls were a close family, Alyn’s aunt and uncle having opened the tavern when Alyn was a babe, not long before Aegon himself had been born. His mother was one of many who wove fishing nets - a trade that could be easily found north in Harrenhal. However, Aegon had offered to put his mother up as well, set up and comfortable how he knew Alyn hoped for her.

“Word from your brother?”

A shrug. “Lord Velaryon won another battle - according to those merchants from Qohor that came in this week. Rumor is the Triarchy might be enlisting the Bright Banners.”

Aegon drummed his fingers against the tankard. “He’ll be fine. And when he comes back, we’ll make sure he’s taken care of.” Another drink to cloak it in the casualness rather than the seriousness of his words, uncertain how Alyn would take it.

“First you make me your steward, now you offer to make my brother another part of your new house?” There was a teasing quality in Alyn’s voice, but Aegon knew better, just as his friend knew his own tones masked his own truth. They had been through much together, things that neither of them would ever speak of, but knotted them together like the nets Marilda Hull wove with such care.

He snorted and shook his head, tearing off a hunk of the fresh bread Bri had brought, soaking it in his own stew. “Addam can do what he likes, and whatever I can make happen, I will. It’s not charity,” Aegon quickly added, because Alyn would rankle at times about charity until he learned not to complain about it. “He served the realm. Should he want to be a Gold Cloak, should he want to set up a tavern in Harren Town, hells, send him to Oldtown and become a Maester-”

“Aeg,” Alyn cut in, fingers gripping his shoulder and Aegon fell silent, eyes focused on the food before him. “I want to come with you to Harrenhal. I want to make a better life, I don’t want to raise my children in this stinking cesspool of a city, I want my mother to have the garden she’s always dreamed of.”

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” Aegon said, voice low, the frown pulling at his mouth once more. “I’d still let you have it for-”

“Aegon,” Alyn said. “As your steward, all I ask is for your respect.”

“And as your liege, all I ask is you tell me when I go wrong,” Aegon replied, finally meeting his friend’s eyes. They were bright green, like his aunt’s, and his mother’s. The silver hair was the only thing that hinted at his origins. His true origins. ‘As your-’ Aegon could not finish the thought and instead he hooked an arm around Alyn’s shoulder, pulling him in to smack a kiss to his silver head. “Here, steward. Give that bard a dragon and let’s get something good playing.”

Thank you for being here! I hope you've been enjoying yourself! It's been a hot minute since we had a chonky Aegon POV chapter and with everything having gone on, I thought it was a great time to revisit. Not to mention, I've been sitting on this Viserys interaction since Chapter 9. I've really wanted to dive into certain personality traits of his that often get understandably overshadowed by less than stellar qualities since he's on a different trajectory here. I understand that maybe that's not what some of you are expecting, and that's okay! But I really do love diving into his head and unwrapping him and shaking him in my snow globe, so those of you that enjoy that, again, many thanks for being here. Also I'm so glad to bring Alyn back! We touch a little on that parentage mystery as well <3 I'd love to hear your thoughts and theories! Let me know what you loved about the chapter! What are you looking forward to? Next chapter we have Alicent and Jace and then OFF TO HARRENHAL! OMG are you so excited? I'm so excited! Also omg who was behind the attack?? I hope justice is served one day :prayeremoji: Hope everyone is having a great weekend!!

Next Chapter

#hotd fic #hotd oc #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x oc #aegon ii targaryen fic #house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fandom #house targaryen fanfic #my fics #oc: abrogail strong #otp: do not go far from me #aegon x abby #abrogon #fic: the maiden and the drowning boy

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inevitably-johnlocked · 9 days

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Hi! Do you have a post for recs on hidden/secret relationship (dating, marriage, etc etc)?

Hi Nonny!

I actually recently replied to a similar ask that came back around the queue, and I sadly I don't have very many personal recs! I've been asked this enough that I think I'll go through both of my offline lists and make a new updated list because I need content, LOL! So here you are, and if anyone has fics to add, as always, please do!

SECRET RELATIONSHIPS (Sept 2024)

See also:

Lestrade / The Yard Finds Out

Lestrade / The Yard Finds Out Pt 2

BOOKMARKS

A Sofa with a View by nondeducible (G, 1,855 w., 1 Ch. || Domestic Fluff, Schmoop, Secret Relationship) – Lestrade loves football, John and Sherlock love each other.

The Internet Is Not Just For Porn by cyerus (G, 1,911 w., 1 Ch. || Different First Meeting, Humour, Fluff, Crack) – John is Sherlock's internet boyfriend - from CANADA. No one thinks he's real.

This is my friend, John Watson by aaronisgay (T, 3,691 w., 5 Ch. || Established Relationship, Secret Relationship, Yard Finds Out) – Lestrade has known Sherlock for over three years, yet in that time barely learned anything about the man. Then one day, Sherlock walks onto the crime scene with a short army doctor in tow. As time goes on, Lestrade wonders why neither of them ever go on dates...could this mean something? Otherwise where Sherlock is married and the Yard doesn't even notice.

5687 (Approximately) by prettysailorsoldier (T, 6,771 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Alternate Canon, Christmas, Pining, Fluff, Soldier John) – When John's leave request for Christmas is denied, Sherlock is nothing short of devastated, not that he's letting it show. The holiday season now something he's just waiting to end, Sherlock doesn't think anything can possibly make it worse. That is, until he realizes no one in his life believes his army "boyfriend" is even real, but, luckily, everyone is in for a surprise. Part 13 of 25 Days of Johnlock

Performance In a Leading Role by Mad_Lori (E, 156,714 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Hollywood / Actor AU, Secret Relationship, Falling in Love, Slow Burn, Romance, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Pining) – Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world? Part 1 of Performance in a Leading Role

MARKED FOR LATER

No place on earth they’d rather be. by gelos (bia_mpinto) (G, 460 w., 1 Ch, || Established Relationship, Fluff, PDA, Secret Relationship) – John’s thumb is caressing Sherlock’s skin and thinking how soft it is and how lucky he is right now. This is the first time they’ve held hands in public, only because they seem to be alone in the street and there’s nobody to see them.

I've Got Him by AnneCumberbatch (NR, 1,182 w., 1 Ch. || Established Relationship, Privacy, Semi-Secret Relationship, Domestic Life, Caring, Sick John, Flu, Annoyed Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Sleepy John, Forehead Kisses, Papa Lestrade) – He returned to the living room and looked down at John. “You’re going to weigh so much more than I’m prepared for, aren’t you.” Sherlock grimaced slightly as he mapped out the best way to lift his partner. Part 9 of the Sometimes in the Evening series

A Study In Partners by LonelyThursday (T, 3,051 w., 1 Ch. || ASiP Divergence, Humour, Established Relationship, Attempted Murder, Secret Relationship, Tired Greg, Papa Lestrade) – Sherlock and John met years before ASiP, but nobody told the Yard that

Alibis by JohnlockRelapse (M, 6,645 w., 1 Ch. || Established Relationship, Secret Relationship, Implied Mystrade, Secrecy, The Yard, Fluff) – Sherlock is away for the weekend, John indisposed. And Greg would never admit to himself how desperate he was for Sherlock’s help. A series of phone calls to concerned parties, and a frustrated Detective Inspector later, alibis would prove to never be enough.

Illusory Correlation and Confirmation Bias by VanillaBroompolish (T, 10,464 w., 6 Ch. || Alternate Canon || Soldier John, Secret Relationship, Relationship Reveal) – Looking back, there were a few things that should’ve tipped Greg off long before that night at the pub. A few things Sherlock left fairly obvious, that on reflection, made Greg question how he’d gotten his job in the first place.

The Moaning Detective by Imjohnlocked87 (E, 14,873 w., 5 Ch. || Oral / Anal, Threesome w/ Lestrade, Secret Relationship, Top John, Bottom Sherlock, Multiple Orgasms, PWP, Sex Toys / Dildos / Vibrators, Gang Bang / Group Sex, Dom/Sub Undertones, Dirty Talk, Accidental Voyeurism, Fantasizing) – Theoretically, Sherlock Holmes doesn't like sex, and John Watson is not gay. Theoretically, because when accidentally the Yards listen to what is happening at Baker Street, they found the practical truth is totally different...

Sanctuary by a_different_equation (E, 15,437 w., 7 Ch. || Medieval AU / Canterbury Tales Fusion || Blacksmith Sherlock, Guard John, Secret Relationship, Dom Sherlock, Sub John, Porn With Plot, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Anal, BAMF Female Characters) – England, 1230: John Watson is an ex-soldier who works as the head of the guards in his hometown. Sherlock Holmes, the local blacksmith, is his secret.

The Sweetness Makes the Smoke and Stings Worthwhile by 221b_careful_what_you_wish_for (M, 70,032 w., 31 Ch. || Historical 1920′s Unilock AU || Summer Romance, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, First Kiss/Time, Inexperienced Sherlock, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Drinking, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sexual Tension, Hand/Blow Jobs, Dancing, Secret Relationship, Skinny Dipping, Angst with a Happy Ending, Closet Sex, Hotel Sex, Emotions, Falling in Love, Mutual Pining, Letters/Epistolary, Heartache, Minor Violence, Separations, Reunion Sex, Love Confessions, Victor & Mary in this Fic) – After nearly being expelled from university, Sherlock is banished home to Musgrave Hall for the summer. A friend introduces him to John Watson, a handsome medical student visiting the area. Sherlock and John find themselves drawn to each other, falling into a summer romance that may be as painful as it is sweet. Although they follow different paths, their feelings for each other still haunt them, their love finally coming full circle years later. For those concerned about Mary and Victor, they appear only briefly and as very background characters. My version of Mary is not modeled on the BBC version. She is more of an original character, if anything.

combat fatigue by simplyclockwork (E, 75,714 w., 30 Ch. || Military AU / Different First Meeting || Captain John, BAMF John, Violence, Betrayal, Developing Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Secret Relationship, Whump, Angst, Mutual Pining, Happy Ending) – When Sherlock is deployed to Afghanistan with his brother and the 4/73 Bravo Sierra Bravo patrol unit, he is thrown into a terrifying new world. Developing an unexpected connection with Captain John Watson complicates things, and the two begin to wonder if they can keep each other safe when betrayal lurks in unexpected faces.

This Is Your Song by agirlsname (E, 79,990 w., 19 Ch. || Moulin Rouge Fusion || Prostitute Sherlock, Poet John, Acting, Singing, Dancing, Writing, Poetry, Musical, Song Fic, Heavy Angst, Unreliable Narrator, Sherlock is French, Love at First Sight, UST, First Kiss/Time, Frottage, Coming in Pants, Anal Sex, Switchlock, Clothed Sex, Crossdressing, Secret Relationship, Forbidden Love, Jealousy, Terminal Illnesses, Grief/Mourning, Breakup/Makeup Sex, Past Drug Use, Attempted Rape, Canon-Typical Violence)– When John Watson is invalided home from the army in 1895, he moves to Paris to rediscover his writing and find a new meaning in life. His old friend Stamford invites him into a group of artist friends, and suddenly John finds himself auditioning to write a show for the famous brothel across the street. There, he meets the most beautiful man he’s ever seen - Sherlock, the star of the Moulin Rouge. But Sherlock is already promised to the investor of the show, the rich Duke Moriarty.

Of Ice and Men by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 176,906 w., 20 Ch. || Olympics AU || Paralympics, Prosthesis, Disability, Established Relationship, Threesome - Johnlockstrade, Angst with Happy Ending, Coming Out, Secret Relationship, Asexual Sherlock, Pilot John) – Greg wants Sherlock to win his first Olympic Gold medal. Sherlock wants John to win his first Olympic Gold medal. John wants Greg to come to bed wearing all four of his Olympic Gold medals, and you didn't really think this would be that terribly serious after reading that title, did you? Bundle up, it's a Winter Olympics OT3!

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #secret relationship fics #my fic recs

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sans-guy · 1 year

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(explosion) butch info masterpost (explosion) I’ve been asked a few things a couple of times and i just wanna lay some stuff out about butch that doesn’t get asked just so u guys know. i'll update as needed (if i can remember) <3

I can’t say everything because sooner or later I want to create some kind of comic or fic, but can’t right now cus my brain sucks and i'm pretty busy irl

Here is his updated ref sheet How old: 30-ish How tall: 6'8"

He kills people???!?!?!? D: Yes. only people that really deserve it, he's not a mindless killer. Even though he's a butcher, killing isn't something he enjoys doing.

AND HE EATS THEM??! D: No. but he sells the meat to monsters that do, in an effort to get rid of evidence. he's not friendly with the monsters he does business with, and he does not sell to humans. The selling of human meat is a drug trade of sorts; and it is by no means an easy business to get out of.

lore and loreposts; -He needs glasses -How he lost his fingers

-He isn't too fond of humans.

-despite everything, he is goofy.

-extra info about relationships/"clients".

-he is not too socially inept, but prefers to keep to himself and not say too much, just the way he was raised. -he is a workaholic, preferring to stay either busy or asleep, despite occasionally getting sick from all the stress he's under.

-he is technologically illiterate, hates newer technology, but will still use a landline (for his friends or for work) and the library computers with help (to check emails cus the modern age is horrible and requires you to have an email) -he is very slow to make friends, but when he does, theyre very good friends, going as far to consider them his family. -he LOVES knives, and has a collection of unique knives (culinary/pocket knives/hunting knives etc) he's found or obtained from flea markets.

-because of the state of his right hand, he's technically ambidextrous, since he's had enough time to learn how to use his other hand, but still writes better with his right hand. he could use ecto fingers if he really wanted to, but he doesn't care either way.

-he lost a tooth rough housing with his brothers when he was younger (he has many siblings ((and his older brothers picked on him becus thats what loving siblings do <3 )) )

-his arms and hands are riddled with scars and cuts because thats what a lifetime of physical labor and 10 years working with sharp objects will do to u

-the gloves he wears are cutting gloves here's some fluffy small character stuff for him ive thought about, i'll update this list when i . remember what i posted lovers/trust/friendship can i draw butch (or any of your characters)??

can i draw butch kissing me/my insert?

i'm ok with most fanart, I love everything everyone makes of my guys!! but if ur not sure if i'll be comfortable with it, please just shoot me a message. i dont bite i promise *bats eyelashes* also its a given but no fanart or ships can be inserted into the canon sorry

edit; pls pls check out the #fanart tag, so many beautiful ppl have drawn/written so many beautiful things of my boy and they must be seen

#butch #masterpost #urghh let me know if i missed anything or if i should add stuff #and i'll link this in my pinned post when i redo it #ggrhggahghg so many thoughts #long post #also im slowly working on cleaning up my tagging system cus i am so bad with it

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honeyydrunk · 3 months

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I NEED SOMEONE'S OPINION !! i'm going to write a satosugu fic, but i have two options of the fic and since i'm REALLY busy, i can't do both. so can someone please 🙏 help me decide which to invest my energy on?

just dm me w a request or anything !!

option 1: bittersweet a slightly angsty 'confession on the tip of your tongue but never said'. very canon compliant bc i really love writing as cc as i can and there is something about ooc i despise. i'll write like cute pre plasma arc slice of life scenes ofc. but smth about a symbolic bittersweet 'i love you' but never said is so appealing. i want to write something so horrifically bittersweet you don't know whether to HATE me or not.

i'm the strongest after all, is it wrong i'm hurt by the fact that a goal you'll never achieve was more important to you than me. be lucky that my love for you is more than my want. you knew i never cared about jujutsu society or for the weak. but i'll never tell you that you were all that mattered. as i saw you standing there like you never cared i realised i prefer cherishing my memories of you than to risk ruining them for you

after all, i'm the strongest

option 2: cute high school fall in love okay the plasma vessel arc will happen, but instead of it all going wrong and sour (i'm still killing that girl) they continue on with their days but eventually there's a confession. they talk things out? i get to finally say how IDIOTIC geto's whole ideology is because i've got annoyances for days.

i perhaps just want to use every trope i get my grimy long fingers on and yank it in there because i'm nasty like that idk 🤷‍♂️ (ex: 5 + 1 things, they end up at the gojo mansion for no reason at one point, "cherry flavoured. want to taste?", basketball but there's flirting, gojo wearing crazy outfits for attention, truth or dare,)

love makes you do crazy things. he used to be the easiest person to be around. but gradually, without me noticing, it's no longer comfortable. wanting him to like me, no longer not even thinking about it because i knew he did. is he tolerating me now because we"re friends or now i'm wondering if he's even friends with me because he likes me or because i'm 'the strongest'? whatever that's meant to mean.

"hey what would you do if i said i love you?"

my final opinion:

this was originally going to be a kfc breakup but gojo tweaks out and goes "nah uh". because i couldn't actually fathom how someone how went crazy insane when dealing with toji round 2 just let geto go like that. but what changed my mind was that if i was gojo, i would've acted the exact same way he did. so i was going to write the bittersweet one showcasing what gojo wanted to do, but never ended up doing. however then i thought about the fact that i was him, i would've badly confessed during high school.

i'm also REAL sick of people mischaracterising the both of them. getting this close 🤏 to making a whole new post about how i think the should be characterised and why everyone should follow suit with my opinion.

(if this whole post looks messy it's because it is. i wrote this with no editing no proofread just whatever i managed to somehow manifest. i'm actually listening to she a wolf by wayv and growling like taeyong did in the tiger inside superm)

(did you know i know like japanese to a certain level?) (i watched jjk in sub)

#jjk fic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #geto suguru #satosugu #please someone respond dm me please help #satosugu fanfic

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tenpintsof-sundrop · 11 months

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FNAF Movie Requests - CLOSED

Requests CLOSED as of November 16th, 2023.

(Requests are now closed, and I am keeping this request form up in case I have need for this again.)

So, I highly resisted the urge to fall into the fanfiction hole with the Five Nights At Freddy's Movie characters, but here I am lmao. Josh Hutcherson is so wonderfully sat, wet, and pathetic and I can't help myself.

I have tweaked my prompt list for this fandom, and you don't have to use these prompts when requesting fics, but please keep in mind that I am more likely to write and complete a request if it is simplistic and can be written in a shorter fic. I aim to keep request fics under two thousand words (around three thousand words at most).

Characters I write for: Mike Schmidt, Vanessa Monroe (Afton), and William Afton (Steve Raglan). (I may also write platonic fics with animatronic characters if people want to see that?)

Note: I will be writing for the movie version of the characters, but because I am a fan of the games, I am not against making references to the games and playing around with the canonicity. I care much more about the themes of the games than any solid sense of canon.

Requests can be sent to my ask box here or to my ask box over on my writing blog @sundrop-writes - I am probably not going to get to requests right away because unfortunately I am feeling sick right now, but I wanted to post this request form to help me get inspired. Please read all the rules/guidelines below before sending in a request.

(More information below the cut - please read it before requesting.)

(Also - warning, this prompt list technically does have some mild spoilers for the movie.)

I will accept requests for poly ships. (Character x reader x character.) I love requests like this - I think for this fandom, the only one that really works is Vanessa x Reader x Mike (which is one that I would really love to do), but under certain circumstances, with the right request, I might write Mike x Reader x William.

In your request, please specify if the reader character is female, male, or gender neutral. When I write gender neutral fics, I do not describe what kind of genitals they have in any way, so I don’t write ‘GN AFAB’ reader fics. If you want the reader character to have a vagina, that would be a fem reader in my fics.

EDIT: Typically, I don't write for reader characters that have specific traits - like a specific race, height, described as having specific looks, etc. but my one exception to this rule is that I love writing plus sized/fat reader fics. I love spreading love for fat bodies, especially through fics, and I love making people feel good about their fatness through the gaze of a fictional character. So feel free to send in requests for a plus sized reader character, it's one of my favourite things to write!

I will write smut, angst, or fluff, but I mostly prefer writing smut or angst. When requesting smut, please specify if you want the characters to be dominant or submissive. In your request, write ‘sub!reader’ or ‘dom!reader’ or something like this to let me know. I am a big fan of writing submissive men, so know I don’t shy away from that, but I will write any dynamic as long as it’s properly communicated to me.

I will for a lot of dark topics and different kinks. In general, the list of things that I won’t write is a lot shorter than the list of that I will. So if you’re wondering if a request is okay with me or not, just ask!

Just for reference, my big no-nos are: virgin!reader, sexually inexperienced!reader, or innocent!reader - I am okay with doing a ‘faux’ innocent reader or writing about the canon character being a virgin and having their first sexual experience with the reader. I am okay with writing about sexual cocercion, sexual blackmail, or dubcon.

Also, I don’t write fics about miscarriages, safeword use, or extreme choking kink. While I don’t write about miscarriage, I am okay with writing about pregnancy (and it’s something I enjoy writing about).

Smut Prompts/Ideas:

The canon character is a virgin (ex: virgin!Mike)

“Just the tip.”

Stuck and Fucked/Situational Bondage

Hate Fucking

There Was Only One Bed

Caught Masturbating

“Can you teach me how to do (blank)?” (ex: “Can you teach me how to give someone an orgasm?” “Can you teach me how to perform oral?”)

Late Night Semi-Public Sex (bathroom sex, kitchen counter sex, etc.) where they shove a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet (or purposefully try to make you scream)

Overstimulation

Breeding Kink (or Faux Breeding Kink with a Strap-On)

Extreme Dirty Talk

Phone Sex

Underwear Stealing

Them taking dirty pictures of you

Unknown surveillance/Perv!Canon Character/Them getting off to you doing something mundane

Dumbification Kink/Objectification

Daddy Kink or Mommy Kink (their reaction to being called Daddy or Mommy for their first time)

Them masturbating to the thought of you

(There is more kinks that I enjoy writing, but this is just all that I thought to add to this list)

Angst Prompts/Ideas:

(You should definitely send in some of these, I love writing angst but people don’t request it as often. I will even write hurt/comfort just to write the angst part, so you can send in a hurt/comfort request if you prefer.)

They break up with you to keep you away from danger (this one would work really well with Vanessa)

Attending to their injuries after a fight (or, them attending to your injuries after a fight)

You are attacked (verbally or physically) and they step in to save you

Their reaction to you being killed/your death (bonus angst: you died before they got to confess their feelings to you)

One of you has been brainwashed and completely forgets the other

(Directly inspired by the movie) - you are in a coma and they confess their feelings for you thinking that you can't hear them

They save you from a near-death experience (or you save them)

They find out you are alive after thinking you had died

Being reunited after years, but you didn’t part on good terms

“Who did this to you?”

Unrequited Love (they see you with someone else, they think that you’ll never love them back, etc.)

(For hurt/comfort, I can do any of these with a sappy ending!)

Fluff Ideas/Prompts:

They confess their love for you

Your first kiss together

They surprise you with a cute date

(I am really stalled for ideas for this list, I suck at writing pure fluff lmao)

(Again, you don’t have to use these prompts, I just think that these are good examples of things that will fit the 1k-2k mark.)

#sundrop speaks #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #vanessa monroe #vanessa monroe x reader #vanessa afton x reader #william afton #william afton x reader #fnaf movie #fnaf movie fanfiction

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fumifooms · 4 months

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was not expecting how head over heels i'd fall for marchil- i stg there's something they put in the sauce like goddamn! and i've loved seeing your posts analyzing their dynamic, really helped articulate what i was feeling. i was wondering if you had any fic recs, or any recommendations for ships with a similar vibe? i'm hungry for them...

I know right, marchil gripped me in a chokehold out of nowhere and still hasn’t let go… The sauce was designed by the demon for me to get addicted specifically. It’s been too long since I haven’t written fic for them. I’m still chipping away at my Marcille & Chil arc analysis I know I always mention it and I started the draft in January but I SWEARRR… Season 1 is ending next week :/ On the upside I’ll probably be more focused. After that analysis, which is only analyzing in depth like one aspect/half of their intertwined arc btw so who knows there might be a part 2 one day, I kept thinking it’d prob be my last marchil analysis but let’s be real, probably not. Every week I find something new to point out about them aah…… Dungeon food, ahh, dungeon food…

Fanfic rec wise, well first I have my own marchil fics, to which I mostly recommend Grind Me Down Sweetly, and then feel free to browse my marchil bookmarks for what seems good! I don’t know what your tastes are but Shroomyystar makes super good angst (and smut), my favorite being 'Til our fingers decompose, keep my hand in yours about Marcille getting deathly sick and the dilemma to confess or to not confess, incredibly haunting piece of bittersweet but soul-crushing angst AND character study. Like wow! Chilchuck I need to throw you in a river. I want you beside me is cute bedsharing banter. From me to you makes my head spin and makes me shake my screen. And- *gets dragged off before I can mention more* Meanwhile on the flipside, Anita_Amai (the first ao3 marchil writer, still going strong 👏👏) is especially great at offering short and sweet pieces, the tone is usually light and comedic and it always makes me smile and giggle, gives me fluff attacks, the fics always a strong good scene or theme idea too. Just browse and pick any, it’s a good time. There’s soo many more. Honestly I recommend just diving into the ao3 tag and start reading. You can start by kudos and read the highest ones first to dip your toes and get the community classics one out. Early on there was a recurring anon writer who did great bittersweet domestic confession stuff like this one, lifespan angst oughh... Wherever you are now thank you for all your work 😭💖 A lot of new marchil writers are starting to post too! A csm asaden fanfic writer legend just joined the tag so marchil will probably finally get some multi-chaptered fanfics haha~ But yess there’s unrequited angst, there’s self-sabotaging angst, there’s domestic fluff, there’s falling in love and bantery fluff, bunch of good stuff <3

As to ships with similar vibes: The closest I’ve seen so far is honestly weirdly close, it’s the protagonists from a romance comedy josei called Dame na watashi ni koishite kudasai or Please love useless me! I don’t want to spoil but there’s even the guy needing to move on from a doomed love + emotional distance issues and the gal slowly invading his personal life/social circle and my god… They were coworkers, he was rude, he’s a workaholic, he’s reliable, she’s sunshine and needs to get some reality checks... The banter. THE BANTER. He represses and she copes by simping for fictional characters. He made, like, a mutual aid community for ex-gangsters. They dress up in silly costumes sometimes. They’re weeeird about each other in an unlabelable way before dating in a way (in a fun marchil in canon way). It’s so funny she’s cracking open his convoluted personal drama like her morning newspapers. There’s more there’s so much more. Give up on your dreams, make money, love loses 🔥🔥 It’s honestly just a great fun read, it’s such a mood. Haven’t read the sequel yet but there’s one so really if it hooks you you’ll be fed well and for a while. The greatest bits are too spoilery but here, have the vibe.

Howl’s Moving Castle, specifically the book, and there’s a ton of themes and narratives that are so fitting for them that I couldn’t possibly all list, I already made a post on it here if you’re interested in all the details and similarities and my AU thoughts haha.

Teen Titans 2003 the show, Beast Boy x Starfire. THAT’S RIGHT I’M A BBSTAR, BAM! 💥🫶 Jokester that’s dependable x sweet and idealistic but strong and protective. Short gremlin and tall beauty. Friends-coworkers to lovers. Very soft fluffy slice of life ship I like it a lot, and I wrote a fic for it hehe. Might do more one day, I have a bunch of prompts written down and a series I really wanted to get to sob.

I almost forgot to mention Shrek. It’s SO FUNNY how well it goes sometimes… Chil Shrek, Laios Donkey, Marcille Fiona. I want to say Mickbell could be Farquaad but even Mick doesn’t deserve this slander… Shrek 2 fear that he’s not prince charming enough for her oughh. Laios getting to be a horse good for him good for him. Winged Lion singing I need a hero. Someone stop me.

There’s also zenmiyo from Touge Oni but no one reads that </3 I gotta get to my review/lore analysis about that manga it’s sooo good a fave read of mine from last year. Like it’s so fucking good. It keeps just ramping up and getting more crazily good. Scrolling through some pages rn and it’s a unique blend of comedy, philosophy and awe-inspiring visuals and creativity. Well, sort of like late Dunmeshi actually. If it had a fandom any bigger I’d be all over it constantly. And I’d also recommend Harahara Sensei / Timebomb Teacher if it had any english translation, one of my fave mangas also. It’s about mafia, and a goody two shoes willing to go through a corruption arc to save her sister x stern rude mafioso who’s there bc he’s poor and on a revenge mission, never had any other option growing up etc etc. Ok he’s not that Chilchuck but the dynamic does have that "grow up and see the world for what it is, a shithole. It’s been hell for me" vs "ok you have a point. But also have you considered not sacrificing your humanity and emotions in a self-destructive pursuit" (not that she’s in the position to talk lmaoo) like ohh my goood him throwing his popsicle stick in the fire that she lit over a corpse, it haunts me.

From the marchil Discord it’s also fun to notice ships some of us share… Csm asaden, some combination of LotR elf x short guy, fair amount of dunmeshi ships overlap too. Haven’t found the overall common thread quite yet and I’m forgetting many that have come up but lol some off the top of my head.

#Marchil #“Do you know ships like marchil” marchil has 50 layers of themes and circumstances and world-specific dynamics there will never be #another ship like marchil #With that said you can have dollarstore marchil/differently flavored here and there yes #Ask #Sorry for answering days late </3 #Bc i have bad memory and i’m a raging shipper i literally keep lists of ships i like and have a ‘ships that are similar’ section so like.#I was born ready for that question. The random prep for a ship surprise quizz paid off.#There are a few other ships i didn’t put bc they aren’t close enough #With marchil i come for the comedy and stay for all the themes and the angst and the complementary-ness my god… So ships that remind me of #Them tend to come from more comedy focused stuff or whatnot #You gotta appreciate the marchil range man… Fluff angst sitcom melancholy slice of life it can do it all #It’s honestly hard to find protags/love interests that are both scholars and too idealistic. I love Marcille’s academic side </3 #Koishite kudasai is the josei-shojo i’ve related to the most in my life for sure for sure. Adult struggling </3 #I’m rereading to find good pages for this and my god it’s so good i keep laughing. Ah well…! This is why i take so long w asks

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adallinda · 2 months

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A small talk about the creepypasta Sally williams and the fandom itself.

( TW: OPINION?!?!?! )

As we all know the creepypasta fandom was never perfect, it had its ups and downs. Thus I wanna talk about a character that we all love. Sally.

Sally was created in 2012 and she is a young girl at the age of 12. She firstly was 8 but her creator changed her age to 12 to reasons that I don't want to discuss since they're messed up. Her backstory is truly heartbreaking. She is represented to be a lively, happy and caring young child. She has a teddy bear that's she loves and loves sweets and the color pink.

Now that you know a little information about her, what I wanna talk about is the fandoms problem. The fandom has always been broken, there has always been questionable and wrong stuff in it about litterly anything, even about the characters themselves. And Sally is a victim to that.

From the first time I came into the fandom I saw weird stuff about Sally, questionable art, weird headcannons, wrong ships and the list goes on. She is a child, a minor, she's 12.

"She's a fictional character! " she's still a minor, her being fictional doesn't excuse your weird posts about her nor your weird ships.

Also the ships, she shouldn't be shippen with anyone.

"Sally x Ben" "Sally x toby" "Sally x Jeff" all of those are problematic and any ships with Sally is problematic. Be better and do better and actually make this fandom be an enjoyable place because it can also influence new comers. If a new person joins the fandom and they see wrong stuff they're gonna think it's normal when it's not.

Some people need to realise that "Sally x Ben" is extremely problematic since there is an age difference and also any ship with her is. Also some people need to stop condoning and supporting people that do these stuff, it's sick and wrong.

This isn't a thing that happens to only Sally, it has happened to more characters sadly, it is one of the reasons people leave the Fandom.

The fandom has became a toxic place and there are a lot of new people coming in, mostly children, that want to be in a friendly fandom but all they get is a hit in the face with the cruelty of it. It is not the first time it has been toxic and won't be the last but can we at least try to make it a place we can enjoy? New fans are mostly children, like I said, if they see this kind of behavior and these kind of posts they're going to think it's normal and that'll be a bad influence on them. I know every fandom has its ups and downs and not everyone can be pleased but the fandom used to be so lively and so open minded.

I've seen people judging one another for "wrong headcannons" like... That's what a headcannons is, what YOU think the character does. According to the fandom:

Toby can't be happy ( or any happy emotion )

The creeps can't have a stable relationship

The creeps are abusive

You're not allowed to ship characters that aren't canonical partners

If you don't add Toby's stutter and tics ( in a fic or somewhere else ) apparently you're äbléist

^ BUT if you do somehow you're cringe

If you don't laugh at the fanon jokes you aren't a real fan

You aren't allowed to remind ppl that Sally is a killer too

I'm sorry but what. All of these things are ruining the fandom and that's why many people leave. We wonder why the place is so bad but no one is speaking up nor doing anything about it and the people that do get torn to shreds ( not actually ) by the "fans".

Like I wanted to start this small rant with Sally cuz sadly she is one of the most séggsualized characters in the fandom.

I also want to bring awareness to the MASSIVE BULLYING IN THIS PLACE. Like I said a thousand times already, literal children join the fandom and instead of being greeted warmly they get bullied. They are new, they aren't going to know everything from 2016 to now because frankly I wouldn't know either in a new fandom. Instead of bullying them why not help them? Tell them fun facts about their fav char or help them not spread misinformation.

#sally williams controversy #sally williams #creepypasta #creepypasta talk #reminder sally is 12!!#please stop making questionable posts about salle #sally is a minor #make the fandom a good place and enjoyable #creepypasta headcannons #creepypasta controversy #controversy #crp fandom #fandom #toxic fandom #fandom controversy

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baronessblixen · 11 months

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I know fic canon mostly has Mulder eating questionable things and getting sick from it, but if you are willing I’d like to request a Scully sick fic please. She eats something off on the road during a case, while driving it starts repeating on her loudly which she tries to stifle, her audible stomach cramps and gurgles intensifying and moving lower while her nausea rises until she’s begging Mulder to pull over at the nearest motel or gas station bathroom because ‘ one way or another, whatever is inside me needs to get-urrp out, now!’ Inspired by a recent stomach bug of mine where I wish I’d had a Mulder to hold my hair and rub my back

Almost two years later and here we go! (I hope anon is well after that stomach bug)

Hurt/comfort post-"Arcadia": They're on their way back home from The Falls at Arcadia when Scully gets sick. (wc: 1,918)

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2023

Fictober Day 17: In Sickness And in Health

“Are you hungry?” They’ve been driving for about two hours and have exchanged about as many words. Neither of them was in the mood for breakfast this morning before they got into their family-friendly car to leave this place where neither she nor Mulder fit in. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees that he’s still wearing his wedding band. It irritates her.

“Are you asleep?” Mulder asks, glancing over at her.

“No,” she says in a clipped tone.

“No, you’re not hungry?” She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes briefly. It’s not Mulder’s fault she’s on edge. At least not entirely his fault. They went from ‘don’t make this personal’ to him invading her personal space at every opportunity and flirting with her as if the whole Diana thing hadn’t happened.

“No, I’m not asleep,” she says calmly. “I’m hungry.” The tension in the car eases, but they fall quiet again. What is there to say these days?

It doesn’t take Mulder long to find a roadside diner. He parks the car and she doesn’t wait for him while he stretches out his long limbs. He catches up with her – damn those legs – and attempts to hold the door open for her. But he’s too quick, and they’re too uncoordinated so he smashes his shoulder into the door.

“Are you hurt?” Scully asks.

“I’m fine,” he says, glaring at her, his eyes glinting.

“Let’s get something to eat then.”

Mulder goes for pancakes and bacon, asking her if she wants the same. She does. She does want something fatty and greasy. Instead, she shakes her head.

“Scrambled eggs, please.” The waitress wanders off, leaving Mulder and Scully alone with their thoughts and their silence. He starts playing with the salt and pepper shakers, his hands unable to stay still. Scully wishes she had something to say. Anything. She watches and waits for the waitress and their food. Her stomach is in knots. She knows it’s not just because she hasn’t eaten anything in a while. It’s because of whatever is happening between her and Mulder. She wants things to go back to normal, but she still flinches when he touches her. The way he treated their first case back still leaves a sour taste in her mouth. The way he treated her, as his wife, even more so.

Maybe they should have sent Diana with him.

The thought makes her so sick that she’s tempted to just leave her scrambled eggs untouched. Mulder digs in undeterred, glancing over at her. She doesn’t want to worry him and more than that, she doesn’t want him asking any questions why she isn’t eating. The eggs are runny, and don’t taste good at all, but she makes herself finish the plate out of some misguided sense of obligation.

“I’m gonna pay,” Mulder says, his chair noisily scraping over the floor. It grates on her in the same way his behavior does. She tries to shake the feeling off. Her skin feels raw and she takes off her blazer, feeling too warm. Mulder returns and she catches him contemplating whether his hand on her back would be welcome. When he doesn’t touch her, she feels the absence of him all over.

Another two hours on the road and Scully’s stomach begins to grumble and gurgle. She takes a sip of water and all it does is make her nauseous. She decides to close her eyes and ignore it. She’s become quite good at that. Soon she realizes that closing her eyes was the wrong move. She feels too dizzy. She rolls up her sleeves, her skin seemingly on fire.

“You okay?” Mulder asks. She doesn’t answer; she’s not deliberately ignoring him, but she’s not sure what will come out when she opens her mouth. “Scully? What is it? You look pale.” She shakes her head, hoping that Mulder will see it. Her stomach cramps violently and she presses a hand against it.

“Stop,” she presses out through her lips.

“What?”

“Restroom,” she tries instead.

“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” Mulder says, sounding panicked. “Can you hold on?” She wants to say yes. She wants to assure him that she’s fine. Her shivering body and the overwhelming nausea, however, tell a different story. “There’s next to no traffic here.” Mulder looks around and stops the car so abruptly that Scully’s stomach revolts. Her shaking fingers try to unlatch the seat belt and she almost cries out when it won’t come undone.

Mulder reaches over, and their fingers brush against each other. She’s free and stumbles from the car. She doesn’t get far until her meager breakfast comes back up. There’s no relief, just pain, and a sense of shame. Her breath goes quickly and her knees are wobbly. She wants to lie down, or at least sit down.

“Hey,” Mulder says, rounding the car. She presses her eyes shut, but what’s the use? Even if she can’t see him, he can still see her. “It’s okay,” he murmurs softly, rubbing her tense back softly. “Feeling better?”

“No.” Her voice is weepy. The nausea explodes like a volcano inside of her and she just about manages to turn away from Mulder’s shoes to get sick again.

“Oh, Scully,” he says, his hand moving from her back to her hair. “I’m so sorry.” She barely hears him. Her knees want to give in and before they do, Mulder catches her. His arms are securing her, holding her upright.

“We need to get you to a hospital,” he says, his voice wobbly. “You’re scaring me.” The last time she felt like this, cancer was wreaking havoc on her body. And Mulder remembers it as well as she does.

“The eggs,” she says and the words alone make her sick once more. “They were bad. They must have been bad.”

“Food poisoning?” he asks her.

“Yeah. Just- I can’t fly home like this.”

“We’ll find a motel, stay another night. Or two. Do you think… do you think you can manage the car ride?”

“I can try.” Mulder’s arms are like a life belt around her, refusing to let her drown. He helps her sit in the car and puts her seat belt back on.

“You look a little less green,” he says with a small smile. “Don’t worry, okay? And tell me as soon as you want me to stop again.” She nods.

She manages a whole 10 minutes before her stomach revolts again. The car skids to a halt and Scully jumps out a moment before Mulder does. He’s by her side, holding her and comforting her. He’s saying things she doesn’t understand, but the irony is not lost on her that he’s spoken more words to her while she’s standing here by the road being sick than he did while they were driving.

“Thank you, Mulder.”

“That’s what partners are for.”

They try again. Her stomach gurgles and hurts, but otherwise behaves. After another 20 minutes of driving, they find a motel. She hears Mulder’s sigh of relief. He treats her as if she were made of glass, leading her to the entrance. She only listens half-heartedly as he asks for a room. They’re handed a key and make their way to their room. One room. She didn’t misunderstand.

“I’m not leaving you alone,” he says as if reading her mind. She’s not in the place to complain or refuse.

She feels like a marionette when he helps her undress and get into pajamas.

“You’re burning up, Scully,” he says. She shivers whenever he touches her skin. “Will you please reconsider going to the hospital?”

“Only if it gets worse. I just need to-” and there it is again. The nausea comes unexpectedly and she runs for the bathroom, Mulder at her heels. He flushes the toilet while she scrapes herself off the floor. Without a word, Mulder hands her a toothbrush. He watches her every move and only leaves her alone when she uses the toilet.

“Lie down. I’ll see if they have any Pepto-Bismol. Can I leave you alone for five minutes?” Scully nods, her eyes closing as soon as her head hits the pillow. Mulder wakes her what feels like a minute later, with two pink pills in his hand and a glass of water. She takes the pills, washes them down with the water, and succumbs to sleep a moment later.

When she wakes again, it must be hours later. Mulder has switched on a light and is just sitting there in a too-small armchair, watching her with a distraught look.

“Hey.” His voice is hoarse. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Can I have some water?” He brings her a fresh glass and she down it in small dips despite her intense thirst. She doesn’t want to make herself sick again. “I’ll never again eat eggs at a roadside diner.”

“I won’t let you,” he promises with a smile. But she sees his lips tremble. “Fuck, Scully. You really scared me.”

“It’s just food poisoning,” she says, sitting up.

“I know that, but… you were so out of it. I thought- I was scared. I didn’t know what to do. I just sat here and wondered. I kept replaying everything. I know you’ve been angry with me and I get it now. I think I do, anyway. I had a lot of time to think.”

“How long have I been asleep?” she asks

“Almost six hours.”

“What?”

“Like I said, you were out of it. I was this close to taking you to the hospital. I called Skinner and told him what was going on. He said not to worry and for you to get better. Scully, we need to talk about Diana.” His sudden change of topic gives her whiplash.

“I already feel sick, Mulder.” He chuckles softly.

“I’ve been an ass,” he goes on. “I was so pissed off. They give us the X-Files back and send us to play house.”

“You would have preferred to do that with Diana.”

“What? No. Not at all.”

“You treated all of this like a joke, Mulder.” Me, she thinks. He treated her like a joke. Like a consolation prize.

“Because I was so angry,” he says. “Not at you. At everything. I was – am – angry at myself. I knew I was out of line when I said you were making things personal. What is this if not personal?” There are tears in his eyes. He's still wearing that ring and she wonders if he even realizes it. In sickness and in health, she thinks, the thought unbidden.

“I could have lost you.” His words interrupt her thoughts.

“Mulder, it’s food poisoning, not cancer.”

“But it could have been. I’m sorry, Scully. I’m sorry for dismissing your doubts about Diana. I’m sorry for acting like an ass. I’m sorry you got sick.”

“That wasn’t your fault. As much as I would like to pin it on Diana, too.” They share a smile, their eyes locking. She knows that this is just a stepping stone. She still needs time. To recover from this, and from Diana. From everything they’ve been through. But they’ll get there.

“Will we be okay?” he asks.

“We will be okay,” she assures him because they’ve always been. She reaches out her hand and Mulder takes it. His touch doesn’t make her flinch. His skin is warm and soft; his touch is strong. He’s still her Mulder and he’s still his Scully.

#fictober23 #this one was super fun for some reason #could have written 5000 words if i wasn't so tired #so much diana this here #i'm loving it #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

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esorxy · 8 months

Text

remembering all the insanely long marauders fics ive brainrotted over because i kinda forgot all of them. roughly in the order i read them.

Whatever happened to the young, young lovers?

355k, jegulus wolfstar rosekiller. post war (ended by regulus) where they just hang around grimmauld place all day. i literally cant remember anything that happened. but i liked how they stayed home and didnt go outside, because i relate to that. it was alternating chapters between post war and pre war, honestly i dont even know it was just so much relationship angst and regulus being incredibly competent and hurt.

All The Young Dudes

526k, the character development and buildup, its like the level of the actual series without the annual voldemort attack. i was DESTROYED by the ending, it lived in my brain rent free for like a week. why did it have to be canon compliant???! the way they spent so much time pining, so much time apart, and so little time together. but that theyre literal soulmates, which is so sad for grant (he suffered true emotional damage) lmfao. I guess this is the basis (canon??) of marauders era

we can be heroes, for ever and ever

102k alternate happy ending to atyd - yes PLEASE this is what i needed to heal the pain after reading atyd.

choices

624k. lowkey feel the same way towards this as atyd, except it didnt live in my brain rent free for a week. in that i respect that it's good and got heartbroken when everyone died and they didn't get their happy ending, but it did get me into jegulus so I'm not complaining. IDK it's just sad, but i love regulus and evan and cerci. even though i deadass can't remember anything else.

crimson rivers

865k actually SOBBING this fic is everything. so much plot and so much hurt, it is amazing and painful and intense. it has the most picturesque scenes, beautiful happy ending. but i did kinda get sick of it near the end cos its so fuckin long, and i was not into the girls in the fic so i was kinda cbs

holding onto the self

76k and it was so good i felt so sad for sirius. this is the type of fic which makes me jaw drop and suck in breath like poor baby honestly. no summary needed cos ill never forget what its about lmfao....

just lovers

321k fake dating au. this is GREAT. its so light hearted which is a great change from the akckdjebakzj. this is the climb to the top for regulus being my favourite character. lowkey can't remember shit but i liked it and i need more fics like it because it was creative and there's not much room for that in marauders verse

only the brave

645k and The fic of my dreams. this is everything and i loved every second of it. every character is so great, and it got me into pandalily!!! perfect amount of hurt (a lot), and such good plot. it has every ship i like, i was like drowning in a hot spring of happiness while reading this

ecliptic

147k, oh it's so creative and new. it was so suspenseful cos we got 0 answers, and the fic is deadass incomplete wtf!! i love how everyone is sad but mostly rational. the jegulus was really really nice, and i liked how the cruciatus was made out to be a big deal so the hurt/comfort is better. i feel like the plot is better than the delivery

wolfstar my one true pair, jegulus my second true pair, evan®ulus has a special place in my heart, marauders fanfiction a permanent space in my mind for at least the next few weeks

new edit: shit! i forgot to update and i read so many more long fics and can barely remember them now

mastermind

311k i cant even remember anything that happened ... except i liked the dynamic between narcissa and regulus, and narcissa is so damn pretty. this was the one where regulus made james and sirius go with him to the cave, and then james had to force him to drink the potion, so much angst arghhhh.

all along there was some invisible string (tying you to me)

103k spiderman AU + high school and all i can say that its an original setting... the pining was great, and the spiderman kiss!! but other than that like it was good, i guess

I adored you madly, extravagantly, absurdly

243k Victorian AU with arranged marriage trans regulus. I loved regulus' character, he was so spiteful and petty but also down bad, and jegulus matched so perfectly together. i want his life so bad because his literal job was being married, like deadass he didnt do shit all day except read, play with his cats and pine for his husband...

a violent kind of spin

212k not going to lie, my favourite/most striking parts of this fic were the $h scenes... and i just finished it last night so I dont even have an excuse. james asking sirius to turn around and not even waiting for him to do it??? oml hes unhinged and it was so well written. the bathtub scene when he was on a timer and then just walked out like everything was fine!!! help it was so angsty im in love. i feel like i speedran this fic and didnt read it properly, which is probably accurate

Im not gonna teach him how to dance with you

122k. rosekiller is the BEST. i love the whole plot tbh and it was so well paced. love that for evan because nobody else is gonna keep by with barty's crazy. i would have liked it more if it had crack undertones but yknow whatever, cant have everything. i thoroughly enjoyed all the romantic tension in the leadup, the way they were both so in love im gone.

All the young dudes - Sirius' Perspective

628k, let me tell you, canon has no right being that sad, and the beloved author just fed off that like a parasite. i should have expected how this fanfic would destroy me, but the delivery made it so much more painful. i sobbed reading the Halloween and Azkaban chapters. and sirius,,, like why did you have to be so angry all the time. and so obsessed with remus from day 1. it was great. although like halfway through i just felt like ... wolfstar is so basic. jegulus once jegulus forever i guess.

whatever our souls are made of

157k hanahaki where we really gotta work for the happy ending. OML it was so beautifully sad. reggie 💔💔. sirius said nobody on the earth deserves his baby brother, but if he had to pick someone, it would be James 😭😭 I'm a broken man

oml i havent updated in 2 months... its ok i didnt read that much cos i was too tired with uni and work. anyway i found all my fics through tiktok, tumblr, or thru the author cos this gold mine is too big sorry chief. which is like. someone recommended this following fic :skull:

I'm not okay (I solemnly swear)

107k and unfinished :000 cant believe it i read something unfinished but when i read the tags i was like ok yeah im in. my secret is that i read fics like these!!! and most of them are not well written but this one is. and so was that other one about sirius but it was only like 78k so i didnt write it up. anyway poor reggie is going through it, and idk if its ever getting finished cos the poor author might be going through it too. additional note: idk if this is the one but bestie has so many problems like get help fr.

the veil of secrecy

100k but its unfinished and let me tell nobody i was devastated. omg it was so sad so the summary is after reggie defected voldymouldy found out and like --- got all his remaining horcruxes and stuffed them inside his chest and abdominal cavity in some crazy ass surgery. and then he sewed his mouth shut and broke his fingers and kept him around him like some porcelain doll/pet and thats the punishment????? oml how do u think of that... anyway so he dissociates into his fabric walls of occlumency so voldy doesnt know where the locket is. ok whatever they escape and he falls in love with jamie idk. its unfinished.

to the boy who...

238k its similar to the previous one (written by the same author ibbsterkisster) and i found it to read to cope with the first one not being finished. yes this is like 3x as long sighs we all know how it is. anyway its similar except reggie is like his boy toy instead... which is even worse. anyway i cant remember anything about the jegulus but i DO remember that evan was so sweet (as he is) he like stroked the bruise on reggies wrist very gently :facepalm: and that scene lives rent free in my brain.

blood on my shirt, heart in my hand

22k and id just like to say, this is the kind of horror that i like. its kinda a mystery at first but its not so creepy, and the jegulus endgame is stronger than a bulletproof vest. so james is having dreams which are vaguely murderous, and when he wakes up the events like kinda match up. turns out hes like having some repetitive dissociative episode every night at 12.37am and getting up to murder people. and after the first time reggie was just like 'well if ur in then im in too' and straight up helps him murder people ?!? i loved it. murder husbands.

the long game

250k and this is the most unique fic youll get here. modern high school au where reggie is like this god genius talented painter and they work on a musical set together, and reggie gets an art show and idk why this stood out to me but he drew like a green soft and a purple cushion and was like... this represents me and evan, cos were ok separately but great together. i read this so long ago i cant even remember what i thought of it

jealousy, jealousy

85k + unfinished again!! anyway so bartylus fake date so james and evan can get jealous and then they both end up together. i just remember it was so cute because they would just hug each other like constantly all the time, and cry at the smallest inconvenience, then their friend/boyfriend would go and lie with them in bed and hug them and that was like a very significant portion of it. and im not even complaining this is the type of physical affection they deserve

pathological people pleaser

114k but it passed so fast?!?! james is so fuckin unstable man like get a therapist. ok i actually enjoyed this so much because for some reason i was really into horror (it was literally 2 days ago) and this wasnt horror but they did not reveal like why james was so fucked, and which parts of his narration were unreliable until quite a bit in. also there was more than a month gap between me bookmarking this one and the last one and like i dont even know what i did with myself??? (actually i lied i read more fanfiction i just forgot i did cos i forgot to bookmark it) (summary: summer holiday where starchaser fall in love also effie died in a car crash on the way to james after he called and was like mom im gonna kms. ok but it was really well written and full of suspense)

anti-hero

237k and i just finished it so its fresh in my mind (for once) ok now that i think about it i have no idea why regulus lived that first time... maybe i didnt read closely enough but like when fics are that long i kinda just miss some stuff or forget it and they all blur together anyway. ok so firstly i want a story of james and regulus in this universe when they were still at hogwarts because like having a secret relationship for 2 years and also doing drugs.. just the hurt comfort ahhh maybe without all the hurt and yelling but whatever. cant have it all. anyway this was so well written i always like narcissa tbh. glad james and regulus sorted out their shit eventually even though it took so. fucking. long. anyway yikes (summary: reggie lives after the cave and they go horcrux hunting and kill voldy but then reggie fucks off to america and becomes a drug addict again but comes back, and james has anger issues but only when it comes to regulus anyway they kept hurting each other that i didnt even feel sad anymore when it happened) addition: oml reggie being an addict + nic in beautiful boy the stars aligned finally i get some visual scenes in this fandom

doing a word count sum of the above and its: 6 million and 476 thousand...

meetings that start in the dark

656k and oml i was SEMI HOOKED. honestly like why did it take them so fucking long to get back together like the moment Voldemort dropped dead James should have been unable to stay away from regulus. anyway love how they're obsessed with each other, love how Luna and Harry are playing matchmaker. and i especially love how Sirius was the lame embarrassing parent ahah. also the amount of bs evan has to put up with from reg and barty... jesus christ i loved them in this except for how he was buff girl no evan is a twink and this fic wont change my mind

sometimes, running away does solve all your problems

15k so reggie literally walks out of his house and his parents dont even notice and he runs away and meets james and they live together it was perfect omfg i loved it so so so much. it had the same sad, resigned tone as the dsmp fics that i was obsessed with before and would reread over and over. and the small village quiet life is a dream

27 club

27k and why was it so heavy oml like i didn't sign up for this sadness. ok so reggie is DEAD but before that he and James were like lovers and drug buddies but also lacked healthy communication. james is like bye imma get clean without u, the literal love of my life. the whole thing was so sad because it would be like one bit of 'oh and they were in love and making music' and then another bit of 'james was mourning so hard he couldnt get out of bed'. it was lowkey magical to read except for how hes dead.

you missed my heart

100k and omfg im in shock tbh. like what the actual fuck. I'm in shock in an "im unsettled and creeped out" way. i don't even know why because ive read serial killer jegulus fics before and it was all peachy, but maybe this one was so creepy because we were in the dark, and the killing isn't unrealistic and romanticised. James was so smitten with regulus too I'm crying i was actually convinced that reggie wasn't the killer. i need soft regulus fluff to cope with this. to erase the image of reggie being a psychopath. omg Sirius after finding out the truth.. poor boy was like catatonic. I'm never reading unhappy ending fics again I've become weak my heart can't take it

I'm going to start including the shorter fanfics that i read and are memorable as well because i don't discriminate

which means i have a lot of catching up to do

the moment and the sound

29k so james runs away with harry to escape voldemort and meets reggie by chance. they live together and james is like straight up depressed. i liked this fic but also forgot what it was like.

raise hell

30k it's basically about them being angels and demons and working together to idk stop the world from ending. i liked the tone of the fic in that everyone was like set in their ways and was like wtf at everyone else but also i wish it was longer and there was more about each person's like representation like Sirius being the angel of justice. also it was so funny regulus the angel of diligence and James the demon of lust.

blackpool

63k and omg it was so well written but i was so confused the whole time cos i have no literary ability. like regulus being a straight up unreliable narrator?!?! deadass in shock half the time reading this tbh

calm before the storm

51k and i could draw a graph of the shock factor of this fic and it would look like a staircase with 3 steps. at the start it was so happy and cute and i was like omg why did i click on this again and then sirius dies and james loses his memory and reggie is like fucked up that's the first step up and then they heal whatever but then reggie straight up starts murdering people and making a show out of it i read it all like 😳😳. unhinged fr, and also everyone tried to kts at least once like besties go see a therapist please

pink lemonade

121k band tour au where they sing (i think mostly) arctic monkeys songs and kudos because the lyrics all fit so well to whatever clown ass miscommunication situation jegulus have going on. it was relationship angst and maybe i would have enjoyed it more if i read it earlier but rn i need action and thrill. i was like to my irl friend like miscommunication angst isn't enough for me anymore i need murder and she was like girl wtf.

youngblood

75k basically jegulus were roommates in juvenile detection and they had such a deep soul connection in the 2 months and then never reconnected until like 9 years later. ok anyway my favourite part was James and how he was so unhinged. like literally provoking bullies so they hurt him is his form of sh... girl get a grip honestly but also respect for the idgaf factor

mercy

36k so james gets possessed by a ??demon called mercy and reg is an exorcist... so its very obvious what drew me into this. anyway james lives at regs house while hes figuring out what the fuck is wrong with him and they just ??? fall in love. ok slow burn was not really burning at all more like a ticking bomb but the horror was cute. also i found it at night and then read it all at like 8-9am in the morning before getting out of bed so i cant remember it but it was well written and the demon was lowkey cute too he was just out for drama which i can relate

#marauders fic recs #wolfstar fic rec #jegulus fic recs #marauders ao3 #jegulus fanfiction #wolfstar fanfiction

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