#as always feel free to share your thoughts !

[misstycloud]

Isekai’d yandere x f.reader

We’ve all heard about reader getting isekai’d into another universe and bonding with the characters, but what if it was the opposite and the yandere was isekai’d while reader’s just a background character.

————-

You were the mere daughter of a baron. You were pretty, yes, but nothing to gape in awe at. To summarise, you were nothing special. Then how come the heir of a grand duchy followed you around like a puppy seeking its masters attention? Especially since it was only the day earlier that he smitten with another young miss, who he’d declared with his actions was to become his future fiancée.

Yandere! Noble who suddenly approached you out of nowhere one day. You weren’t friends and had hardly ever spoken; to ask directions or work in pairs, perhaps. He was way too cheery speaking to you. It was completely out of character for him. Where did the normally stoic and unphased young man go? He was certainly not to be found here. No, this man chatted your ear off and did not understand that you wished to be left alone. It didn’t feel very safe anymore when all his admirers glared daggers your way. There was one you were especially afraid of. He was head over heels in love with her before. What has changed? You always saw them together and she was the only one he’d smiled at genuinely. Now he didn’t even spare her a glance.

Yandere! Noble who sought you out whenever he had free time. He wanted to accompany you in breaks between your classes at the academy, he wished to escort you to town and he even showed up outside your estate. His change in behaviour was puzzling, but not as much as the shift in his speech. What were these ‘bruh’, ‘sigma’ and ‘I’m cooked’? You didn’t understand any of it, no matter how much he used it around you. You suppose you were thankful he did turn it down a notch when in others company. You already had a hard time with it, you didn’t think it was necessary for others to suffer as well.

Yandere! Noble who had been shocked when they died and woken up in the world of their favourite romance game. They had read a lot of isekai novels but never once thought the thing was actually real. Wait, if this was their favourite game, then wouldn’t that mean that you were there too? Yes! Maybe they should thank Truck-kun for hitting them on their way to work. This was much better than any ordinary life a citizen could have. At first they thought they’d be stuck in the body of a villain or a side character, but they were pleasantly surprised to find themselves being the male lead of the game. He was rich, noble, influential and devilishly handsome. He had everything.

Yandere! Noble who immediately went to the academy to find you. When playing the game, they never found themselves attracted to the female lead, despite the fact she was modelled after the general population’s preferences. It just didn’t work for them. No, they liked you. Loved you even! It didn’t matter that you were nothing more than a simple background character. You were way better and cuter than any other love interest! You kept to yourself and didn’t have many friends, however you were still very kind and modest. On top of that, you were also an animal lover- exactly like them! The two of you also shared one other interest. They wanted to know if you shared more, but unfortunately the information on you was limited(not created because you’re not important).

Yandere! Noble who wrote an email to the game developers about how they should make extra content that should only feature new information and updates on you. They insist it would sell well(no one except them would buy). Sadly they never got a reply back. Rude ass company. Maybe they should’ve claimed mental health damage because the love interests were bad, so they could sue.

Yandere! Noble who couldn’t care less about the female lead. Unfortunately they got isekaid to at the point of the game where you’d have to enter a relationship with the female lead, that you could break off eventually if you wanted to chase after someone else. And sadly for her, you were the only option. The look on her face was laughable as they told her they could give rats ass about her and how they’ve found someone much better than her in all ways.

Yandere! Noble who then realised they were not bound by any rules. In a lot of isekai the person would have to follow some original rules at least in the beginning, but there was no system or points you needed to collect. They could do whatever they wanted. They had the power, the looks, the wealth and what they wanted was you.

There is no way you’d ever say no to a future grand duke, right?

[desireangel]

Dark Cherry [4] | Aemond Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary: after months of a marriage that hardly harbours the passion that you'd dreamed about, you stumble across the reason for your husband's indifference and decide enough is enough. Aemond will learn just exactly what he's been missing out on.

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: MDNI 18+!! canon divergence!!! I fucked the timeline and nigly bits bc this was an impulse fic ok soooo it was mostly unplanned, almost smut, angst, let the grovelling happen babyyy, unedited, mention of alys x aemond but not in a good way :((, infidelity, talk of sex, guilt, mentions of Aegon x reader, hmmm I ramble, little vulnerable Aemond, bad language, let me know if I've missed anything!

Author's note: y'all I was never done with that man like there's no easy out for him :llll. Anyways I wrote most of this instead of studying which I needed to do. Perhaps I'll have my hand at another idea I'm cooking before part 5 but I'm alsoooo unsure about how keen we are to keep this one going - like is it getting too much??? either way, I enjoy writing this. and idk how to shut up, clearly, because I love that internal mind talk shit. Drop your thoughts in my inbox or PM me because I love to yap!!! xoxo, kisses!!! <3

Masterlist

-

He was a fool. A spoiled, arrogant and entitled fool. You often thought about whether Aemond actually recognised the effect of his actions on anyone else. It was always ‘I did it for us’ or ‘I did it because I had to do it’.

So after your confrontation the day before, it had surprised you that Aemond had truly believed he was forgiven. Maybe it shouldn’t have. You had, after all, sat beside him and laughed with him. Shared a moment as if things were better. But it was nothing more than a lighthearted acknowledgement that whatever game was being played was entirely ridiculous yet you could feel how something had changed. There was a newfound intensity between the two of you and Aemond had clearly understood that he had made a mistake

But that wouldn't be enough for forgiveness. Things would never really be the same. You will never forget. The nameless woman had made a home in your unconscious mind and everything would remind you of the woman your husband had chosen to take to bed over you. She was beautiful, she was experienced and free of burden. Based on that alone a part of you could see why she could have been a better choice–a part of you that ached and pained ceaselessly. 

And you weren’t sure you could carry on as if Aemond hadn’t thrown your entire world into the pits of ruin. Because that is exactly what he may as well have done. All you had was your marriage to him–a fact that was as painful as it was true. If it all fell apart because of him only you would suffer from it. 

Your name, your family’s name. A Lady born to a house of remarkably lowly nobility with little more than your marriage to the prince. A charity case marriage to tell the realm’s people that the Crown was not so prejudiced as to be above uniting with the likes of your house. That the Lannisters and Baratheons were important but they were not everything. A fabrication only made necessary to cover up the fact that it was a lie–the Targaryens (and even the Hightowers as you had come to realise) really did believe they were of better blood. 

A failure to fulfil your duty to the Targaryen crown as Prince Aemond’s wife would destroy your family name. And you would have no prospect of happiness after it. What else did you have aside from this?

Aemond would never understand that. Because not only was he a man but he was a prince. A privilege, a safety and a security he had inherited through birth. 

Aside from the pressures of society, he had hurt you. Badly. 

Despite your own confliction about it, you did have love for Aemond–how could you not? Love came from many things and while yours may have come from your dependance on his word, on the duty he performed to be your protector as he was to the Crown and its subjects, on his polite affections as limited as they were, it still found its way into your heart. Perhaps it was foolish to allow it entry into your existence when you had already known that there was no love to come from Aemond. 

It didn’t change anything. Betrayed your trust, taken you for granted and destroyed the sanctity of a husband’s loyalty as if he were as dishonourable as any other Lord. 

You would never say it out loud but it had broken your heart. And heartache is a consuming, suffocating and painful thing to feel. A constant lump in your throat, something always weighing your chest down, a disastrous, aching discomfort in your belly. Tears had stained your pillow at night and dried by the morning, the fabric of the linen acquiring the same unphased facade that you would wear as you plastered on a mask of ignorance so that you could continue to live through your day. 

All because you had wanted him. Aemond, who was doomed to disappoint and destroy merely because that is all that princes do. 

For him to have mistaken your truce–the end to the back and forth game that had been wreaking havoc in its wake-as forgiveness was infuriating. He had no idea. 

Well, maybe he did. Now that he had seen you with another just as you had seen him. And you recognised your own experience in the moment he had realised what was happening. 

Aemond’s call to breakfast made you want to laugh. But you had turned him down for afternoon tea just the day before only to be found swallowing his brother’s seed. You winced at the shamefulness of your thought, muttering a quick prayer for the sake of your piety whether it was genuine or not. 

He was seated lazily in the chair he favoured, an array of food spread across the table. There was a book in his hand. The same one he had taken from you the last time you had shared your morning meal together. Aemond had a smirk playing on his lips. 

You cleared your throat, curtsying before sitting down at the other end of the table to him and with as much distance between you as you could muster. “Good morrow, my Prince,”

“Formalities, I see,” He looked at you through his lashes. It was odd seeing him so relaxed, the tension that was always in his shoulders had been lost and there was a playful glint to his eye. You wanted to smack it out. “I believed we were past titles and distance for the sake of propriety, my sweet. As well as rigid greetings.”

All you responded with was a stare. 

Dropping the book to his side, Aemond sighed and leaned forward, pouring tea into a cup. He stood, taking a couple steps forward to hand it to you. “We have fixed-”

“We have fixed nothing.”

“I am trying to turn a new leaf,” he commanded. You took the cup and saucer from his hand, the warm waft of vanilla and rose giving you a slight reprieve from the threat that rolled off his tongue. “If you do not recall, dear wife, I as well have every reason to resent you. The image of you sucking on my useless brother’s cock is not one I can easily bare. Yet I have chosen to let it be. I could have easily decided otherwise.”

“That would make you a hypocrite.” You glanced at him over the rim of your teacup. 

“It does not matter much if I am a hypocrite, does it?” Aemond sat, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. He wasn’t bothered with the food in front of him, focused solely on you. “I hardly see how that would change anything.”

You squirmed under the intensity of his stare, picking up a cherry from the bowl of fruits and rolling the stem between your fingers. “It matters to me. Certainly, it matters for your reputation among the smallfolk. Nobody cares for a selfish prince, my dear.”

Aemond hummed, smirking at the venom you spat at him. You noticed the coin that he rolled between his fingers, nimble and thoughtless as if it were like breathing. Not so much a nervous habit but a thoughtful one. 

He couldn’t lie and say that he didn’t enjoy your confidence. It was refreshing. But there was a dip in his gut at the thought that there was no hope for the two of you. Aemond, ever logical, knew he had no one else to blame but himself with his lack of foresight and failure to see beyond the now and here. 

Because Aemond had not even considered how things would go on should you not forgive him. He had assumed that you would if not merely on the basis that there was little lost from a relationship that hardly existed in the first place. You had love for him and he was so convinced that such a thing would be impossible that he didn’t consider that it would cause you heartache beyond slighted offence and jealousy. 

A violet eye lingered on the cherry that remained between your fingers. Aemond was good at putting on an act. He thought for a moment that he would rather take lashes to his back than have you know that he had no idea how to love someone properly. A part of him was persuaded that he was incapable of being a good lover. The lashes seemed like a blissful gift compared to the self-loathing that simmered in his belly at the probability that he had ruined any chance your marriage had of recovery.  

It crossed his mind that it was his ignorance towards you right from the beginning that had damned your relationship. 

Either way, it did not help that you had turned to his brother for intimacy. Aemond felt his blood scorch whenever that invaded his mind. He wanted to crumble the walls of this fortress when he wondered if Aegon had enjoyed your womanhood. Jealousy did motivate him well, he realised, and Aemond had the murderous urge to feed Aegon to Vhagar. 

Nonetheless, he feigned amusement. “It seems as if you care for one.”

You ate the cherry. It was sweet and rich. All you replied with was an upturn of your chin as you gracefully held a small embroidered towel to your lips.

“So I am not forgiven?” Aemond had to break the silence before it cut him open. “Are we not even?”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you held back a surprised laugh. “You never apologised. Not that it would make any difference.”

“That does not answer my question.”

“Of course you are not forgiven,” you sighed. The tea cup hit the table with a clang. Your disdain for his actions and his ignorance gave you an unfettered confidence around him which you weren’t accustomed to. It made it very difficult to control yourself. “And no, we are not even, my Prince. And since you have brought it to my attention, I am of half a mind to find Aegon and offer him a meal between my thighs. You see, I have often wondered how it would feel and I expect that our King would be happy to indulge my… curiosities.”

Aemond sneered, a silent one that was more visible in his intake of a breath, the curl of his lips and the hardening of his eye. Bullseye. 

It took him less than a couple seconds to be on his knees in front of where you sat, a strong hand tightly gripping each side of your thighs over the thick fabrics of your dress. He had shoved the table aside, unphased as tea spilled and fruits and cheeses toppled to the floor. Something in the look of bewilderment on your face had Aemond ready to both grin at your clueless innocence and frown at your shock.

Aemond didn’t let himself dwell on the fact that you had given up on expecting such pleasures from him. He was your husband; nothing about what he was clearly intending on doing to you should surprise you. Cursing himself to perdition would not be enough for how he has failed you. 

“I feel obliged to remind you that we had agreed,” he grazed his nose across your knees, looking up at you through his eyelashes, jaw clenched tight as he all but growled his words. “That there will be no more of this foolishness. Not from you and not from me.”

It was an onslaught of different things that had rendered you still and silent. The way Aemond looked at you like you were the only satiating force for his eternal hunger, the wordless mixture of desire and anger in how his fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs, the desperation in his voice, strained by the fear that you would. Or was it the overwhelming feeling that Aemond was finally taking some accountability and that maybe he recognised not what his actions were but the meaning that they carried?

For a moment Aemond just looked at you, conflicted and fragmented and unguarded. The sight of him like this reminded you of a vulnerable child. But it didn’t last long before the menacing, cautionary glint was back in his eye, his posture becoming rigid as shuffled the fabrics of your skirts. 

A new kind of anxiety overcame you. Not like the insignificant nervousness you had felt that night when you had wandered into his chambers or used his leg to make yourself peak and not like the clueless apprehension with Aegon. It formed a ball in your chest and made it hard to breathe. 

There was no chance he would ever admit it but you could see Aemond’s vulnerability and desperation within the hardened facade he had perfected. He wanted nothing more than to seem strong and powerful at all times, worthy of acclaim and reverence. But here he was, willing to stay on his knees and worship you forever, all under the pretence of rageful infatuation. 

It was too hot. Even with the cool of the shadows cast by the dark net curtains that only let in enough daylight to see clearly and not enough to cause Aemond irritation from sensitivity in his eye, it was so warm you worried you would have to rip the sleeves off of your dress.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Aemond let out a soft, dark groan, running his fingers across the expanse of your legs over your stockings, your skirts already bunched at your hips. Skin burning at his touch, you couldn’t help the way you whined and squeezed your thighs together, squirming under the intensity of his gaze. 

His voice was heavy with the burden of lust and regret. “I will be better. In all the ways that I have failed you and more. Your forgiveness, I realise, is not as easily granted as I presumed but I will show you that I am worthy of it.” 

There was a moment of weakness in your mind before you caught yourself. You didn’t quite believe him. It had clearly been too easy for him to give you empty promises and there was no reason why things would be different now. 

It was odd. Seeing Aemond weak like this. 

What would it mean if you let him continue? It was clearly different this time. You couldn’t put it into words exactly but there was a rawness, a blitz of different emotions that set things ablaze and made you want to both weep and mewl for him. 

You couldn’t spare a thought about why it was different. Aemond was right there, a weaponised Prince on his knees for you, a lowly Lady with nothing more to offer him than yourself. Since when did you hold all this power over him? 

That night in his bedchambers and last night when you had shared a laugh despite everything that had unfolded felt detached in a way. When you had allowed yourself release over his leg it was simply that. A way to ease the tension he had put in your body and a way to leave him wanting.

Aemond’s eye swam with a tenderness you had not seen from him. He continued to look up at you waiting to gauge your response. It was a slight nod of your head which had his hands tearing at the soft fabric of your stockings, his lips instantly meeting the skin of your knees before you had the chance to even gasp. All the while, he kept his eye on you as if his heart would cease to beat if he could not watch the way you reacted to him. 

It became increasingly harder to breathe. There were so many thoughts, so many sensations that you struggled to put it all together. Your flushed with anticipation, your cunt throbbed at the wet plushness of his lips on your hot skin and your hips squirmed at what was to come. 

Your mind, however, flashed with the image of Aemond, exactly as he was now, between another woman’s thighs. A woman who didn’t flinch at the unfamiliar touch, who didn’t jerk away at the foreign feeling of being pleasured. You wondered if he would be so angered at the prospect of another man’s mouth on her womanhood, if her skin felt softer or more rough on his lips and if he looked at her with the same heated need.

It made you feel sick. 

Aemond let himself enjoy the way your thighs tensed, pulling your smallclothes off of you as much as carefully as he could under the restriction of your skirts. There was an urge to rip the entire dress off but he knew it would be a step too far. He couldn’t help the low sounds that left him, sounds he couldn’t recognise. The expanse of your thighs and the sight of your flushed, hot cunt in front of him made his mouth water with a hunger that would have shocked him had he not been so distracted by your scent. 

Without complete vision, Aemond had learned to train his sense of touch, taste, smell and hearing to make up for the disadvantage he was stuck with. They were always slightly heightened compared to those who never needed the compensation of senses but in the cloud of desire and lust, he was sensitive. 

You whined at the way his tongue glided over your skin, biting down hard but not hard enough to be painful on the flesh of your upper thigh so close to where you needed to feel him. But Aemond was always remarkably patient and he merely made way to your other leg, repeating his ministrations and licking you from your knee to where he bit you at your thigh. 

The haze that had possessed you made you lose track of your thoughts so easily. Still, they fought their way to the forefront of your mind at every chance they could and you were reminded of her. 

Aemond’s mind was overwhelmed by you. There was no power in the realm that could make him think of anything else, not with the way you were trembling under his feathered touch and making such beautiful sounds for him, and not when he desired for anyone else apart from you. 

A heavy breath of shame and excitement tumbled out of you at how lewdly he dragged the tip of his nose across your thigh, pressing it into the flesh that sat above your slick, aching cunt and inhaling. You clenched around nothing, your clit twitching at the sound of Aemond’s unabashed groan. 

He grasped at your hips and your legs, his fingers burying into your flesh and tugging as if there would never be enough of you in his hands. It would have driven you into a similarly desperate state had things been different. 

The prince between your thighs was a sight to behold. Aemond’s skin was flushed pink, his eyepatch slightly out of place and his hair tousled from the way your legs clenched and unclenched against his head. He was almost drooling, mumbling about how good you smelled and how perfect and pretty your cunt was for him. His cock had never been so hard, constricted by the stiff leather of his training attires. 

Aemond enjoyed being a tease but there was only so much he could handle himself. While he wanted you to crave for him the way he was craving you so unbearably, Aemond needed to taste you. He needed to make you feel the blinding pleasure he should have been giving you at every chance he had since the night you were married. He needed to show you the ways of unbridled human desire and to show you all the ways your body could come undone and fall apart only to feel completely whole and fulfilled. 

There was no changing the past but Aemond would make up for how completely inattentive he had been. He would show you all the more fervently. When Aemond placed an open mouthed kiss just above your slit, letting a string of his spit glide off of his tongue onto your sensitive pussy, you shuddered.

All at once your mind was once again taken over by unsavoury thoughts. It had your eyes welling with tears, a familiar lump lodging in your throat, threatening to come out in a devastated sob. There was a ringing in your ears and you were back at Aemond’s door, peeking in only to see him giving that woman the same touch he was giving you right now. He had seemed so enthralled by her and the way she must have tasted. It was as if he’d been there before, indulging in her with so much passion it rivalled how eagerly touched you in this moment. 

Did her smell fill his veins with fire as yours was? Did her scent alone make his cock as painfully hard as yours did? Did her cunt drip for him the way yours did? Was the hunger in his eye shining for her too?

It was terrifying to consider. 

Aemond would spend hours here, he had decided. His duties for the day could be damned to the hells for all he cared. There was a rumbling in his chest for what he saw in front of him, inviting him to indulge and filling his mind with senseless ardour. Aemond let himself enjoy just the scent of you, his eye fluttering shut and his nose gently resting above your folds as he breathed you in, caressing your thighs softly with his hands. As if he were starved for years, Aemond salivated and with no patience left within him, he brought his lips downwards to meet the precious cunt he had been dreaming of. 

With a whimper that you couldn’t hold back, you jerked away from him. Aemond pulled away in surprise, his gaze full of confusion and lust and insecurity. “Wait, my love—“

You had slipped free of his grasp, a strangled cry escaping no matter how hard you tried to keep it in. There was one tear that slipped free, followed by countless more and you couldn’t look at him anymore, couldn’t bear to see that he was hurt before scrambling away from him. 

She was stuck in your mind. The memory of Aemond’s little trysts with her replaying behind your eyes no matter how hard you tried to shut it out. It was clear that there was nothing you could do to get ahold of yourself because everytime you looked at him, so enthralled in you and your sex, she was there. 

Laughing at you in the back of your mind, as if she had taken residence in a permanent place in your head, enjoying the state of despair and madness she and Aemond had led you to. 

But she couldn’t be in your head. Not really. Not in the way it felt she was. 

You barely glanced back at Aemond through your tears, struggling to even your breathing and calm the rapid beating of your heart. He hadn’t moved much; just simply stayed there frowning at the space that you had once occupied on the chair. 

There was nothing he could do to change things. Aemond knew that as well as you did. But there was a pain in your heart at the way he looked so defeated, so guilty that it almost seemed like he would melt into a puddle of remorse. A far stretch from the usual stoic warrior that you had known him as.

“My prince, I–” you swallowed, your voice catching when he looked up at you with a wide eye and furrowed eyebrows. For a moment you remembered that he had no right - but he was trying, was he not? “I cannot continue with this knowing that you had touched her like this. It angers me and it upsets me and it pains me to think of it but ‘tis beyond my control.”

He stayed silent, observing the way you hid yourself from him and struggled to meet his gaze. There was a sullen look to you, one you had not entered with and it stuck needles in his flesh to think that he had been the cause of it. Aemond’s entire body felt hot and he was itching to tear off his leathers. He wished the gods would strike him down as he was for hurting you so.

You had turned away, disappearing from his quarters swiftly. You would never forget the image of how you had left him there–it was both satisfying and devastating. 

Aemond, still on his knees for the ghost of you, his expression tortured and his shoulders tensed. It was a pathetic sight, should anyone stumble upon it, but you considered it beautiful. Beautiful in a lethal, catastrophic manner. Not unlike himself; a weaponised source of destruction who had a tendency to bring torment upon those he loved. 

The rest of your day had been spent alone in your chambers. You hadn’t cried so much over any of it until now. The tears and sobs that you had held inside of yourself for weeks had forced themselves out, along with the emotions you had pushed down until you could no longer. 

Aemond had a certain control while you were sitting in that seat, skirts bunched to your stomach and quivering for him to have his way. Regardless, the power was still yours and you knew that it was Aemond who was wrapped tightly around your finger at that moment. He would have listened to anything you had said–done anything you had told him to do. 

Perhaps you had become too stubborn in your anger to have let yourself feel anything else. A retributive anger; one that sprouted from the lack of love that existed in your marriage and reached a climax at Aemond’s brazen adultery. And it only grew stronger in whatever back and forth Aemond had encouraged by dangling his whore in front of your face. 

Whatever it was, you were feeling so much more now than you had before. 

Or perhaps it was because you could see that Aemond was remorseful. He would never yet admit it but you knew from the way he had behaved since you had visited him in his bed. It was no act of redemption and definitely no apology but it was impossible to ignore the change in him. You had never seen Aemond the way you had seen him this morning. 

Vulnerable, gentle, tormented. 

A knock on your door had you sniffling and wiping away any tear stains that may have lingered on your cheeks. You had stopped crying for some time but the need to wallow and lament had stayed. When you called out to ask, the guard at your door notified you of the Dowager Queen’s presence. 

Oh, seven hells. 

There was really no chance you could refuse her so you merely let her in and called a servant to bring some refreshments. Queen Alicent sat herself down but remained tense, carefully watching you as you took a place beside her. 

“Have you been crying?” Her concern was comforting. “I believe I know why.”

You straightened, not meeting the eye of the woman who reached a tender hand to your knee. Hiding behind a forced smile, you let out a breathy laugh. “I am certain the entirety of the Red Keep knows, Your Grace.”

“It has been known for some time,” Alicent was gentle, her cautionary gaze telling you that she was apprehensive about bringing her son’s misadventures up. You held your breath. “Since the first time he had summoned that Alys woman-”

“Alys? Is that her name?”

“You do not know?” There was a tense silence. Alicent couldn’t meet your gaze, pity swimming across her features. Aemond was her son and there were many things that she had let her sons get away with but her heart pained at the broken quiver in your voice. 

Alicent had noticed the change in Aemond since the night that you had found him with Alys. The second time. He had never paid much attention to you aside from what appearances required yet Alicent knew her son far more than he would be willing to accept. She had known that there was something in his heart for you, no matter how small and no matter how it dwindled until set alight. 

Aemond had done the wrong thing. She had no doubts about that. Alicent would have words with him once she figured out what to say to him. But he was her son and there were certain misdoings that she knew she had to defend them through. To protect his marriage, his image and his happiness. The Queen Dowager cleared her throat and reached for your hand, eyebrows furrowing at the way you stared down at your lap, the anguish you felt in your heart written clearly across your face. 

“I understand that you are hurting, my dear. Although my husband remained faithful to me until his death and I cannot quite imagine the pain in your heart–I see how you have love for my son, even if you nor him have known it, I do understand,” Alicent took a breath, closing her eyes. “This is the way of men. And princes–”

“Please, Your Grace, I mean this with utmost respect for you but I do not wish to hear your excuses,” you whispered. There was a prickly, breathless worry that had settled in your gut. What did you not know? Was this Alys someone who mattered? “But I would like to know what you are withholding from me about this woman. I believe I deserve that at the very least.”

Alicent stared at you for a moment, examining you. She could drive her son further into the ground with what she was about to say. “Aemond had a paramour–at least it was rumoured, he never spoke of such things with me. Alys Rivers, a wetnurse and servant woman from Harrenhal.”

“A paramour?”

“It was before you were married,” Alicent was quick to clarify. “I had assumed that Aemond wanted nothing more to do with her when she left–at his order, I believe. Some say she was a witch. Perhaps she enchanted him.” 

You couldn’t look at her. She was more than just a whore? Had he lied to you right from the beginning? Bile rose up in your throat. There was a thrum in your ears, the sound of your own heartbeat and you feared that you would be sick from the drop in your gut. 

“Did he love her? Could he still?”

Alicent sucked in a breath. “I do not know, my child.”

All you could do was nod pathetically. Alicent was a woman of great strength and dedication; you had once wished to be much like her one day. But as you sat beside her now, you wished she had been a liar and a cheat and a meddling gossip. That you could find a way to fault her words but you could tell it caused her great difficulty to speak of Aemond’s actions honestly. 

Ever poised and elegant, Alicent only leaned forward to you, her posture straight as a needle and her touch soft as linen. “I did not mean to upset you further. I only meant to speak with you about returning to Courtly activities, with the other Ladies and Helaena has been asking for you. And the Ladies speak–”

“They speak terribly of me,” you scoffed, allowing a humourless laugh. “I understand, Your Grace. I will return to spending my days in company other than my own.”

Alicent hated to pry but she felt that she must, now that she had dealt her cards against Aemond’s fate. “Perhaps you should speak with Aemond. He cares for you deeply. It would be a shame for your union to fall apart over such misunderstandings.”

If not for formality, you would have rolled your eyes. Again, you simply nodded, your mind reeling back to the woman that Alicent had given a name to. You would ask Aemond about her. It would be the less damning option rather than turning to Aegon once more but the idea of speaking to Aemond about a woman he may once have loved still made you want to crawl underneath the sheets of your bed and disappear. 

You thought of the woman who you had seen through the crack in the door and wished you had taken extra care in looking at her. There was little you could recall other than the darkness and length of her hair, the paleness of her skin and the perfection in her curves as she pleasured Aemond and as he did the same for her. 

As if she was familiar with all the things that made him weak. All the things that made Aemond weak. How she had touched him like she was an expert in his body. And you thought of Aemond, bare and comfortable with her. Aemond with his sapphire glimmering under the lamplight instead of an eye, a rawness and trust that you had never seen of him until that night. 

He trusted her.

Alys Rivers. 

.....................................................

Tagging: @padfooteyes @thedyingwriter @mamawiggers1980 @queenofshinigamis @ewanmitchellfanatic @nurtargaryen

[midnightorchids]

Jason couldn’t help but smile when you entered the shared bathroom. The atmosphere was tense as you angrily ran your hands through your hair and frantically paced around the small, compact room. Curses and insults left your mouth, and he stared at you in awe.

It wasn’t often that you had an attitude, Jason never realized how attractive it was before.

He was sitting on the counter near the sink, shirtless, in an almost relaxed manner. The scars on his skin were highlighted under the pale yellow light of the bathroom and you could tell he was trying to hide a smirk. The sheer audacity made you livid. This was the second time this week that he came home bloodied and bruised. Only God knew how many times this exact situation had occurred this month.

You weren’t sure what it was that he was doing or what sort of trouble he had gotten himself into, you were just glad he made it home to you every night. The thought of losing Jason kept you awake in the late hours of the evening, his scars often haunted your dreams, but the fear, however, didn’t stop you from getting angry.

Most days, you wanted to leave him in the bathroom, make him clean the bloodied mess himself, but you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t just leave him alone, you had to be there for him. Your mind and body didn’t always agree when Jason was involved, your body regularly acted on its own accord.

And like every other day, you found yourself grabbing the first aid kit from the medicine cabinet, preparing to cleanse his wounds. You eyed his naked chest before silently reaching over to dampen a cotton pad with alcohol. Your frustration still lingered, Jason could feel the heat radiating off of your body. He stared at you intently, his eyes raked up and down your annoyed figure. He cupped your free hand and gave it a quick squeeze before letting you get back to work.

When the cool liquid touched his torn lip, he let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes. He clutched your hand tighter and pretended to flinch when you went back for a second time. He was being dramatic. He wanted the sympathy and craved the attention, and noticing the lack of reaction made him a little upset.

His hands reached down to your waist, he pulled you in between his legs and gave your skin a soft squeeze. “I’m sorry sweetheart,” he said gently. “I didn’t mean to stress you out.”

You rolled your eyes and continued to clean his mouth. “You’re an idiot, Jay, what are we gonna do about that tooth now,” he grinned in response, showing off the broken tooth. The sight made you want to giggle. He looked stupid, but adorable.

Your body, once again, reacted without thinking and your hands moved to caress his bruised jaw. He needed to shave, his stubble scratched and tickled your skin. His larger hand cupped your own and he placed a quick kiss on the inside of your palm, genuinely flinching this time. It pulled at your heartstrings.

“I’m so sorry,” he said once more, sincerely. You stared into his tired eyes and smiled, silently praying that this was the last time you ever had to clean his wounded skin.

“I forgive you, Jay.”

[youryanderedaddy]

Oleander

Summary: Nine months ago you killed a man. Now you're sharing a drink with his brother. Life works in mysterious ways. tw: female reader, implied murder, captivity, dub - con, hate fucking, degradation, cruel reader

Sometimes you wonder if you’re a good person. It’s nice, almost, to lose yourself in meaningless philosophical battles in your own mind - it reminds you of high school, of balding teachers making you read Kant and Plato, raving on and on about dead men that will never come back to agree or disagree with the countless pages they made you write about them. It’s easier now, though - easy to lose yourself in semantics, to water down hundred years of morals and ethics into a simple question. Am I, the way I am, the way I’ve always been, good? 

These thoughts always come back when the liquor hits your system. You can’t believe Devan let you drink with him tonight. He must be getting lonely, you realize. Your hands are too shaky and slippery to hold the glass, and you end up spilling half of it over your chest anyways. Your shirt soaks the liquor quickly, and the sharp smell of sanitizer makes you feel as if you’re running through a cold hospital corridor. If you squint, you can almost imagine the needle poking at your vein to draw fresh blood. 

Devan watches you with odd fascination - as if you’re a child learning how to walk, and takes a sip straight off the bottle. Were you any less drunk, you’d be disgusted, yet now all you think about is how he’s drinking more and more of the bitter medicine, leaving less for you. And you need it. God knows you need it.

“Messy, murderous slut.” He mumbles under his breath, reaching out to you with a disoriented shake of his hand. “You ruined my fucking life, you know?” He manages to take a hold of your elbow. You flinch impulsively but his hold, in all its drunken angst, is unrelenting.

“You ruined your own life.” You intend your answer to be playful, but it comes out venomous. Maybe you both need some sleep - too bad the bottle is still half full. You pour yourself some more. “You’re 27 with no education, job or any support network. Even your parents don’t call you anymore, because, well… what even are you without him?” You let yourself get closer to the man - so close you can see his eyes illuminate in fear. His skin is warm like concrete melting under the sun. Tonight you are cruel. Tonight you are free - even as the tears fall down your freezing cheeks. “Admit it.” You inhale so quietly you barely feel your lungs. “You fucking love it.”

Even as his hand connects to your cheek in an audible slap, you can’t help running your mouth off. You are absolutely intoxicated - and the sting feels like a kiss to your lonely, untouched face. How long has it been since someone held you?

“You fucking love that your brother died, deep down. I mean, it’s the perfect excuse, isn’t it? You finally have a reason to be this fucking miserable.” Your smirk, filling up with glee - just like a child torturing a helpless ladybug on the ground, it’s so wrong yet feels so right. ”Besides being a lousy loser, of course.”

“How fucking dare you!” Devin flips you over with ease, throwing you on the ground. There is a raw, animalistic sadness in his big black orbs bleeding into his rage, and it makes it impossible to be scared. Even as his thick fist wraps itself around your throat, it’s hard not to burst into laughter. All the good hazy feelings take over logic and now the bleak feels like a big joke of nature. “Joe was… He… He was…” Everything, he tries to say, but his voice breaks into a pained howl and his breathing shallows before the word can roll off his colorless tongue. For a passing moment everything stills.

“It’s all your fault.” Your captor hisses weakly, his hand trembling around your warm inviting flesh. “I should have killed you that first day… that first night.” His fingers dance around your throat, carefully avoiding your jugular. “It would have been so easy. You do have a beautiful neck.” His voice lowers. “It wouldn’t be hard to–” He squeezes again - tight, tighter, and you see stars. “Maybe then I’ll finally be at peace.” He’s staring at you, intently, but it’s himself he’s talking to. 

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes. You can feel a certain fullness in your sides and a dull pain tugging at your collarbone from suffocation - but your mind can’t wrap itself around a single coherent thought other than to hurt him. It’s like the more you hurt him, the more it hurts inside you. “You can’t kill me.” There is no sass in your tone, no mischief - just plain cold acceptance.

Devin stops in his tracks to stare you down as if you’ve lost your goddamn mind. Then he laughs. He laughs so much his hand slips off your throat and you can finally breathe again.

“And what makes you so sure?” He finally collects himself enough to ask, leaning towards you. If anyone were to see you now, they would think you’re two lovers about to elope. “Because…” You avert your face away from his watchful eyes - there’s something about them, a wild flame that makes you sober up quicker than you’d like. “I’m the only person you hate more than yourself. If you kill me, the game is over.” You give him a sad smile. “And you’re all alone again.”

The man grabs your chin, forcing your lips to pucker up like a doll’s. “Like I need a fucked up bitch to keep me company.” He says, yet he keeps moving your head up and down as if he’s inspecting you for damage. As if he cares if you’re bruised, as if his fingers want to feel you for just a second longer. “Then let me go.” You bite back, and you watch his face go dark like a night sky. “No.” The boy - man shrieks, holding onto your arm for dear life. It hurts… but it’s also warm and tight - like an embrace, but not quite. “You deserve to suffer.” He quickly adds, pulling you closer to him. “Then torture me.” You add more fuel. “Do something. Anything.” You sink your teeth into his knees. “For once in your shitty miserable life do so–”

He kisses you. 

You don’t know how to describe the kiss. It’s neither passionate, nor aggressive. It’s desperate, yet it lacks strength. It’s a rushed thing. It’s a memory reminiscent of summer - in a quiet village, after an atom bomb. His lips are the flowers that eventually bloom before they’re stomped by soldier boots. You’re the half - lit match that turns it all to ashes. Your bodies are meant for destruction, and that’s why they fit together perfectly. 

“Let me have you.” He almost pleads once you separate, breathless, on the brink of insanity - as if he isn’t already there. His hands are on both sides of your waist, squeezing so hard it hurts, unstable fingers ready to grab and grope at any shape malleable enough. 

“No.” You wince, but your eyes remain cold and challenging. “Fuck you.” Devin replies, roughly spreading your thighs apart. “Fuck you.” He repeats as he rips into your throat, dragging his teeth against your sweet spot, making you really feel the sharp points tearing into your soft vulnerable skin. The thought of leaving his mark on you makes his stomach turn - and it terrifies him. You try not to look down, but you hear his belt hit the ground and soon his pants follow suit - and then you sense it right against your entrance. Sticky slick whiteness coats your white panties as it drips from the purpling tip so full it might burst by the friction alone.

His hard length rubs along your wet slit and with clenched teeth you anticipate the burn of the stretch, the way he’ll rip your underwear from you, your last protective shield - but it never comes. Yet you see it move in and out, in and out of you rhythmically. You can feel his warm breath on the back of your neck, his rasp groans into your ear, his hands moving your torso back and forth like a carousel. You finally look down. 

He’s fucking your thighs - through your panties, no less. 

“Hold your legs together.” The man barks at you, but his voice is so needy you can’t help giggling even as he manhandles you around like a ragdoll. “T-tighter.” You squeeze your thighs snuggly against his cock - and you hope it hurts him more than it hurts you. You throw your head back, leaning on his shoulder as you jeer gutturally, letting it all out in systematic bursts of laughter that sound more like black cigarette coughs. Or puffs. “God, you’re so pathetic.” You lazily stroke his shaft as it peeks down your stomach, oozing with pre - cum. “I bet your brother would have fucked me like a real man.”

He moves your head to the side with a brute slap, kissing you sloppily anywhere but your mouth - but it still does the trick of shutting you up. “Too bad he’s dead.” He leaves a trail of wet pecks down your throat. Your stomach is sticky. You feel disgusting. “Guess you’re mine now.”

You roll your eyes.

“Dream on.”

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere rivals between Vaggie and Angel dust who both grown attached to overlord reader ? Platonic please and hcs if possible 

I was a bit unsure how to do this at first... but I think there's some interesting dynamics between characters to explore here.

Part of me wants to write something separate for the dynamic you, Angel, and Val have in this. That seems good enough on its own to explore. ALSO! So sorry it got complicated... I had too many thoughts I lost the plot half the time.

@okchijt helped me enrich the rivalry portion near the end.

Yandere! Platonic! Vaggie vs Platonic! Angel Dust with Overlord! Darling

(FT. Alastor + Valentino + Charlie)

Pairing: Platonic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Overprotective behavior, Trauma, Violence, Abuse (Angel and Val), Unhealthy coping mechanisms, Implied Manipulation, Dubious companionship(s).

At first it's a bit difficult to see where you can place another Overlord.

Vaggie would naturally struggle to trust another Overlord based on the ones she's seen/interacted with.

Same thing with Angel due to the fact his soul is owned by an Overlord.

So, both of these characters obsessing over an Overlord is... strange.

The only thing I can think of is you're an Overlord supporting the hotel.

One thing the two share in common is their care for Charlie, no matter how ridiculous her ideas are.

So maybe you're an Overlord who's investing in or just interested in the hotel and its inhabitants.

You'd often come to the hotel to speak with Charlie, not usually going out of your way to have soul deals with anyone there (as per an agreement with Charlie).

This could be a way to get you on good terms with the two.

HOWEVER, This ALSO creates unique relationships between you and Alastor/Valentino.

I imagine Overlords tend to have a territory.

They don't typically want free Overlords in their space or touching their property.

Which means, a new Overlord would catch the attention of Alastor and Val.

First of all, Alastor will notice you often around the hotel and Charlie.

While his role is being a defender of the hotel and yours is simply supplying it, Alastor may feel a bit threatened... or even interested when it comes to your presence.

There's a good chance you can actually get along with Alastor if you aren't a threat... maybe.

When it comes to Val, however?

None whatsoever.

Val would hate you interacting with Angel.

Especially when Angel gets attached.

So, I feel a rivalry like this might come off as complex.

Even more so with the fact you're an Overlord.

Vaggie becomes close to you because you both care for Charlie.

You're seen as an ally and she respects your abilities.

Plus, you're more respectable than most other Overlords here.

She's always found Alastor... shifty.

Vaggie comes off as an overprotective yandere, even if you're a strong Overlord.

Actually, that fact alone makes Vaggie want to protect you due to Alastor.

Alastor no doubt wants to make a deal with you due to your power.

Power is his end game and he isn't sure if Charlie would even need you to be an Overlord.

He can handle it, so why not make a deal with him to give over your power?

Vaggie is often the one trying to keep one (or two) Overlords off your back.

It's originally because she doesn't want Charlie to stress or worry.

But later it's because she genuinely cares about you, Overlord or not.

Angel is a bit more dependent when attached.

At first he pays you no mind.

Oh great, another Overlord to force their way into things.

As if Alastor and Val aren't enough.

He tries not to pay you any mind, often ignoring you.

However, maybe you comfort him after an argument with Val.

You notice him covered in marks and become oddly attentive.

He originally tries to push away, telling you off while he tries to isolate himself.

He finds the idea of an Overlord being caring odd.

Even Alastor does it to get his way.

Yet... You appear to be genuinely concerned...

He hates that he enjoys it.

What may solidify his attachment is you standing up to Val or something.

That or just defending Angel in general.

With you he feels less... guarded.

He knows being around you pisses Val off.

At times Angel gets concerned for your well-being because Val can be dangerous as a Vee.

Yet you try to reassure him you're alright with it.

Even though Angel tries to distance himself for your sake... He can never stay away for long.

Oof... Things just get messy when Angel's attached.

Mostly because Val is erratic and temperamental.

ALL OF THAT and I have yet to discuss Vaggie and Angel actually fighting.

See what I mean by this is more complicated than I thought it would be?

Vaggie and Angel can agree on one thing... you're helpful, sweet, and important to them.

The two also tend to keep you away from two other Overlords.

You're meddling where you shouldn't, even if you don't mean to, but these two act as good allies to you.

I don't imagine their rivalry gets too violent.

They wouldn't try to end one another, mostly it's just arguments on who cares for you better.

But it's not like you're all that vulnerable.

No, you're an Overlord, most of the time you're caring for them.

You help Vaggie be more confident in helping Charlie and even give helpful suggestions and supplies to Charlie herself.

With Angel you often try tending to his wounds, talking to him, and trying to help him cope in a less destructive way than vices (Alcohol, Drugs, Smoking.)

He doesn't listen all the time but he does somewhat appreciate the sentiment.

The two fighting is mostly due to you being occupied with the other or the Overlords upset with you.

Vaggie tends to blame Angel for Val's actions towards you.

It's often a heat of the moment kind of thing, she doesn't entirely mean it but it slips.

Meanwhile Angel thinks Vaggie only cares about you due to Charlie.

Angel may even say Vaggie couldn't defend you from Alastor or that you're being used in some way.

It's all mostly petty but it ruins the bond between them.

Much to Charlie's dismay.

Alastor may comment on their behavior with you.

He muses that they act like lost children in your presence.

He finds it all very amusing.

He also finds it strange you managed to get them to both like you... even more so to this point.

He may even ask if you have ulterior motives, which you don't share.

Motives or not, the two probably would still care for you if they bicker this much over your "care".

Val just seems to get aggressive with you.

He claims you're stealing Angel from him, to which you decline.

You're merely helping Angel, which makes Val more frustrated.

The Vees are never good with their temper.

It's so easy for you two to fight.

You may even come back to the hotel with wounds, leaving Vaggie concerned and Angel guilty.

You help the two in many ways.

Be it from actual care or benefiting yourself... it yields the same result.

Charlie congratulates you for befriending them and helping the hotel...

Yet she is concerned about them at times.

Charlie often has to prevent the two from fighting.

She'd also be concerned about you and Val's fighting.

Both yandere are mostly overprotective.

Angel may also be clingy when he's vulnerable but he tries not to be.

This rivalry, as petty or light as it is, comes with many moving parts.

You're less concerned with Vaggie and Angel... and more concerned about the other bonds they have and how you complicate them.

I don't know, I no doubt overcomplicated the request, but it's genuine thoughts and concerns I have when thinking of these two.

Overall, I feel their rivalry is more petty than anything.

They themselves wouldn't hurt you as you're an Overlord... but the two end up hating each other.

It's a bit difficult for me to see them fighting though... as due to how complicated these dynamics are, the two would probably just learn to share.

You help them both, they help you, they may not need to fight.

Even if they shared though... I can see arguments occurring due to Alastor and Val.

The two wouldn't be able to kidnap you or manipulate you too much.

Murdering people for you? Sure, I can see that.

They're both protective and capable... but would they need to?

Lesser demons don't come near you and they can't kill Overlords.

Oof... you having the Overlord title in general makes this complicated too....

Vaggie is protective and isolating, wanting you to focus on the hotel more than Angel to make Charlie happy.

She makes herself your personal assistant, ushering you to focus on her, Charlie, and the hotel. Not Angel or Alastor.

To her, this is how you two bond.

She doesn't mind sharing with Charlie... but she tries not to allow you any more time with the others.

Angel is not only protective and clingy, but possessive.

He loves it when you just come to see him because you're concerned.

It gives him an ego.

He likes the attention so much that he'll lie to make you stay longer.

He's never felt more comfortable... and he uses this time to mess with Vaggie.

He's a distraction and he enjoys it.

Vaggie thinks Angel is hogging all of your attention... You have other things to attend to.

Meanwhile Angel accuses Vaggie of boring you and not giving you a choice on what to do.

You have your work cut out for you at the hotel, especially with these two so close to you...

All I have to say is this... Good Luck.

[tradgays]

Embracing Your True Nature as a Beta Husband

Hello, my sweet beta brothers. This article is written just for you, to help you find joy and fulfillment in your role as the loving, supportive partner to your strong alpha husband. In today's world, it's more important than ever for betas to know and accept their place. As a fellow beta, I want to share some hard-earned wisdom on how to be the best husband you can be.

First and foremost, understand that your alpha is always right. He's the leader, the decision maker, the one in charge. And that's exactly how it should be. Alphas are naturally dominant, assertive, and in control. They have a vital role to play in our society and relationships. It's your job as their beta to support and submit to them.

Now, I know what you might be thinking. "But what about my opinions and needs?" Well, darling, the truth is, your opinions don't really matter. Not in the grand scheme of things. What matters is keeping your alpha happy and satisfied. When he's content, you'll be too. So it's best to just keep your thoughts to yourself, unless directly asked. And even then, choose your words very carefully.

Conflict is inevitable in any relationship. But as a beta, it's crucial that you don't argue or fight back when your alpha gets angry or upset with you. Instead, stay calm, listen to what he has to say, and apologize for any perceived wrongdoing, even if it's not your fault. Your alpha has a lot of stress and pressure, being the man in charge. The last thing he needs is a nagging or defiant beta making his life harder. So just take it on the chin, and move on. Forgiveness is key.

Your alpha works hard to provide for you and your family. The least you can do is take care of the household and domestic duties. Cooking, cleaning, laundry, childcare - these are your responsibilities. Don't make your alpha have to tell you to do these things. Anticipate his needs and wants. Have a hot meal ready for him when he gets home. Make sure the house is spotless and the kids are bathed and in bed at a reasonable hour. Go above and beyond to show your love and appreciation for all that he does.

Now, I'm not saying you can't have any fun or interests of your own. Of course you should! But make sure they don't interfere with your duties as a husband and partner. If your alpha wants to watch sports or play video games on the weekends, then that's what you'll do too. Be his biggest cheerleader and supporter. If he's passionate about something, you be passionate about it too. Your hobbies and friends should always take a backseat to him.

Submission is a beautiful thing, my beta brothers. When you fully embrace your role and let your alpha take the lead, it's incredibly freeing and fulfilling. You'll feel so much more loved, safe, and satisfied. There's nothing quite like the joy of knowing your place and living to serve your man.

So the next time your alpha gives you an order or tells you what to do, remember - he knows best. Don't question it or argue. Just smile sweetly, say "Yes sir," and do as you're told. Because at the end of the day, your purpose is to make him happy. And that's the most rewarding thing of all.

I hope these tips help you be the best beta husband you can be. Embrace your natural submissiveness with pride! Your alpha will thank you for it. And more importantly, you'll thank yourself. Because there's no greater joy than living to love and serve your man.

[madomkasak]

It's a vignette of something bigger I guess. Daniel's farm is about to see all the action. Just comfort. Implied retirement for Max and Daniel. ~500 words

“Ask you what? What you wanna do now? You got what, a couple of weeks before-”

“Ask me, Daniel.” Dan-iel — not da-niel. It makes the other man smile. A half turn of his lips. Max wants to kiss it. Maybe he can now, even. Maybe Daniel would let him.

“What’re you going to do next year, Maxy?”

“I was thinking of chilling on your farm, Daniel.” he replies. Sure. Sharp. It’s like they’re back there, and Max wants to have a group of pressers following him so he can say it again. Maybe he can say fuck the FIA too. Thinks strongly: I’m thinking of staying, Daniel. You asked.

“Yeah Max.” he says “Yeah, nah - ok.” Max waits. Watches Daniel swallow air rather than coffee. See, he wants to say, I have learnt to be patient. I waited. I was good, see? “You want to see how cold it gets on the farm in June? Wanna overcome your fear of sharks?”

“No.” he drags out the sound as he steps away. Daniel looks at him, half turned smile again. Flushed pink against tan. Max’s tongue is too big in his mouth, he tests soft fricatives against his teeth. Swallows them for a plosive, forms Daniel’s name in his heart. It never left.   “I’ll teach you to overcome your fear of the sea, of course. There is nothing else for me to do.”

It’s a lie. Max will have hours of meetings to go through. Will need to call his mother, Victoria — GP. They'll of course understand. It is Daniel. And it is Max. Maybe he’ll change his phone number. Maybe Daniel’s farm doesn’t have a signal deep into the sparse land. Maybe he can get him to talk to Christian and Helmut so Max doesn’t have to. Max will ask GP first.

Max doesn’t even own a boat. Yet. Would Daniel laugh when he shows up with a tinny?  Thoughts he left half formed spill into his mind as he waits. Like time slows and Max lets Daniel catch up to him again. It's fine, Max has been doing this since he was seventeen. Since he was young but not, and Daniel was free - but not.

“Yeah? Heard Melbourne isn’t bad in March, Maxy.” Daniel half laughs, but Max knows better. Remembers the strained laugh and the tears and the way Daniel hesitates, always. “There’s something big happening over there this Spring.” “No.” again, drawn out. A shared smile. Max steps into Daniel’s personal space.The stop sound of Daniel’s name fits in his mouth “You asked me to stay, Daniel. And it is autumn Daniel.” Max doesn’t have to be conscious of repeating names now.

He presses in, kisses dark hair on a jaw, bumps his nose against Daniel’s. Kisses him. Finally.

Daniel lets him. He doesn't call Max a cunt when he knocks the pitcher off the countertop. It doesn’t break, but Max’s socks are wet. Daniel's foot nudges his. Kisses Max back, a peck between sounds. Laughs against his lips and Max can feel the laughter sleep into his own bones. Vibrates against the hand he lodges beneath Daniel’s ribs. He digs into the too tight skin there, feels the bumps of Daniel’s rib cage. Feels the flutter of too quick heartbeat and Max tastes Daniel’s tongue, shares a breath with him, drinks how Daniel sighs a half aborted nasal sound that speaks Max's name. He'll stay.

[pamwritessometimes]

Roots in my dreamland

Dean Winchester x Forest Spirit!Reader

Summary: Dean encounters a mysterious forest spirit who’s an enigma.

Loosely based ivy by Taylor Swift.

Warnings: unprotected SMUT (bring protection with yourself, yes, even to a forest), P in V, mentions of being naked in the snow, fingering, crack ending, grammar mistakes galore.

The wind howled through the towering trees, winter’s chill clinging to the air as Dean wandered deeper and deeper into the forest. He wasn’t sure why he kept on going on this path. There were no signs of danger, no clear trail to follow, yet something kept dragging him in. It felt ancient here, in this part of the forest, like time itself was buried in these moss-covered grounds.

The reports of strange occurrences in the area had led him here in the first place: people disappearing, then reappearing with no memory of where they’d been. Dean had taken it as another case, another monster to hunt… but what he found instead was something he didn’t understand, and certainly something he couldn’t really fight.

He had found her.

His steps slowed as he reached the edge of a small clearing. The pale light of the crescent moon covered everything in a soft, silvery glow, casting shadows on the ice frozen ground. And there she was, standing just beyond the oak trees, her figure nearly blending into the darkness of the brusque, winter night.

She looked at him as if she’d been waiting.

She always did.

Dean didn’t know her name. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what she was. Her skin glimmered, like the moonlight itself was part of her, and her eyes – deep and dark, just like the forest itself – held some sort of timelessness in them. Every time he saw her, he felt like something inside him was growing, something he couldn’t quite control.

“Why do you keep showing up?” he asked, his voice rough, soaked in frustration. “Every time I get close to leaving this place behind, I—” He broke off, his mind going momentarily frigid in the air. “I come back.”

Her gaze softened ever so slightly as she took a cautious step toward him with her bare feet leaving no mark in the snow. She was now close enough that he could feel the soft glow of her skin radiating off her eternal warmness and the unusual flowers threaded in her locks. “Maybe it’s because you belong here more than you think.”

Dean’s chest tightened. Belong? He didn’t belong anywhere, least of all here in this strange, enchanted place. But he couldn’t deny that every time he saw her, a part of him felt like it was coming home.

“You need to let me go” he whispered, though his feet stayed rooted to their spot.

Her gaze softened, and for a moment, she looked almost sad. “You can’t fight what’s already growing inside you.” she said quietly. Her hand lifted, brushing gently against his cheek. The warmth of her touch like fire beneath his skin.

Dean stiffened, his breath catching in his throat. “What is this?” he rasped with eyes wide, his hand instinctively catching hers, holding it against his face. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to pull her closer or push her away. “Why can’t I…?”

She smiled softly, but there was an edge of sorrow in her eyes. “You’ve planted your roots here” she whispered. “And so have I.”

He didn’t want to hear that. He didn’t want to believe that he was tied to this place — to her — but the truth of her words cut deeper than any blade. And he had his fair share of experience with those. Every time he tried to walk away, she pulled him back, and no matter how hard he fought, he couldn’t seem to break free.

“I– I can’t stay here. This…” He gestured to the forest around them, then to her. “This isn’t me.”

“I know.” she said simply. But she didn’t move away. She stood there, her eyes searching his, like she was waiting for him to make a choice he didn’t know how to make. Dean’s heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing with thoughts of all the things he was supposed to be doing, all the people he was supposed to be saving. He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t keep coming back. And yet…

“I don’t want to leave..” he admitted, the words falling from his lips before he could stop them. His hand tightened around hers, his thumb brushing over her skin. “I can’t.”

She leaned into him then, her body soft and warm against his. Her fingers traced the line of his clean-shaven jaw. “Then don’t” she whispered, her breath hot against his neck. He groaned, the weight of everything crashing over him at once. His responsibilities, the danger, the distance between their worlds (whatever her world was in the first place), none of it mattered right now. The only thing that mattered was her.

“I’m already in too deep” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “You’re in my head, in my damn dreams. I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop coming back right here. To you. I can’t keep my distance from you.”

“I know” she said, her lips ghosting over his. “I feel it too.”

Before he could think, before he could stop himself, his mouth was on hers, his hands gripping her waist as he pulled her closer. The kiss was raw, desperate, like it was the only thing tethering him to the ground. Her body pressed against his, soft and warm and so right, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t care about the consequences. Only the ethereal feeling of her silky skin against the palm of his hand and the velvet of her lips. She kissed him back with the same intensity, her hands tangling in his hair as they stumbled back, their bodies melding together. He could feel the heat rising between them, the fire building in his chest as he lost himself in her…completely, utterly, involuntarily lost. 

They sank to the icy forest floor, the snowy moss cool beneath them as they tumbled into each other’s arms. Though, somehow, Dean didn’t feel cold. He didn’t feel his skin being affected by winter’s brusque. Her hands trailed patterns over him, her touch so incredibly soft, almost like a ghost, but it magically made his body immune to the weather. He responded with equal vehemence, his lips trailing down her neck, tasting the woodsy warmth of her skin.

“Dean” she whispered, her voice trembling with need, but there was something else there too, something fragile, like she was holding back. “You need to–”

“No” he cut her off, his voice rough. “I don’t want to think about it. Not now.”

She hesitated, her breath hitching as his hands moved lower, pulling her closer. “But you’ll have to leave.”

Dean’s movements stilled, her words slicing through his hazy state of desire. She was right. He would have to leave. This, whatever the hell this was, couldn’t last. He didn’t belong in her world, and she didn’t belong in his.

But for now, he didn’t care.

“For tonight” he murmured, his lips brushing over hers, “Just– please.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his, and after a long moment, she nodded as a sign of her silent agreement. They moved together again, slower this time, like they were savoring every moment, every touch, every warm glow of her hand on his skin. The world outside the forest faded away, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in the soft gleam of moonlight, the ancient trees standing tall silent around them.

Dean kissed her lips slowly, his mind completely fogged by need. He didn’t know her, didn’t understand exactly what she was, but none of that mattered now. Not in this moment. Not when every part of him was drawn to her in a way he couldn’t explain, couldn’t fight. Just for tonight, he let himself get lost in her. His hands found their way to her soft, leaf-woven dress, fingers trailing along the strange fabric that did a sinfully poor job at hiding her curves. As he slid his hands down her waist, her lips parted in a heavenly moan, a testament of her sharing the same need as him. His fingers traced slow and purposeful patterns along her upper thigh, teasing her skin beneath the hem of her skirt (or whatever magical leaf-dress she was wearing). Their breath met halfway as she arched into him, her hands gripping his shoulders as he kissed down her neck, tasting the warmth of her otherworldly pulse beneath his lips. 

He leaned back slightly, looking into her eyes, feeling the gravity of the moment settle around the pair. “I want you” he murmured. He really did. He had no idea how, why or who, to be frank, but he craved her.

Her lashes fluttered as she struggled to look into his emerald green orbs. It was just like the forest.  “Then take me” she whispered back.

With a slow movement, he pressed her back against the soft, icy moss. The world around them slowly faded as he kissed her again. Deeper this time… pouring all his desire into the action, savoring the taste of her lips, and the way her celestial presence made him feel. His hands explored her body, making it his goal to commit every little line to memory. He wanted to remember this. Her hands slid under his shirt, warm fingers dancing over his skin, fueling the fire in him. He could feel her heat radiating against him and he responded to that by deepening the kiss, wanting to wipe everything out of his memory, except for this.

His fingers were still under her dress, exploring the soft skin of her thighs, inching closer to her honey-soaked pussy. As he finally met her heat, she gasped, looking at him through half-lidded eyes, her body arching against him as an encouragement for him to continue. 

Dean met her gaze, searching for any sign of hesitation, but he saw none. He slowly slid his fingers deeper, feeling her sweet cunt envelop him. Her eyes fluttered shut, and a low moan escaped her lips as he began to move his middle finger in and out. He kept his gaze locked on hers as he couldn’t help but murmur a breathless “You're incredible. So incredibly beautiful. So wet for me already.”

With each thrust of his fingers, he felt her walls clench around him, and eventually he found a rhythm that matched the heartbeat of the forest around them. 

“Dean” she moaned as her nails dug into his shoulders. “I need to feel all of you.”

Amidst hearing that, he captured her lips again, pouring every drop of his need into the kiss. 

He couldn’t wait any longer either. His own need had reached a fever pitch. His fingers slowly slipped out of her core, which earned a whine from her parted lips. He kissed her hard, his tongue sliding against hers as his fingers worked at the button of his jeans, his breath coming in shallow gasps. She was more than happy to help him, her hands quick and eager as she pushed his jeans down over his hips, his painfully hard length springing free from its confinements. He could feel the heat of her body, the way she pulled him closer, her legs wrapping around his waist, not a single thing between them now.

Dean’s hand slid up her thigh, guiding himself to her pussy, and he hesitated for a brief second, meeting her gaze again. Again, there was no doubt in her eyes, only a quiet plea for him to close the distance between them finally. He slid the tip of his cock up and down her sloppy heat a few times before he finally began to ease himself in. He pushed into her slowly, inch by incredible inch, savoring the feel of her cunt hugging him so snug. The soft gasp that escaped her lips as he filled her  was enough to make his cock twitch inside of her. She was tight, and oh, so warm, and every inch of him ached with the need to move, but he forced himself to go slow, to feel every moment, every convulsion of her pussy.

Her hands gripped his back, nails biting into his skin as her hips rose to meet him, her body urging him deeper and deeper – despite his effort to stay calm just for a moment. The feeling of her wrapped around him was almost too much and not enough at the same time. He groaned, his head falling against her shoulder as he pulled out almost all the way before thrusting into her once more, harder this time, losing himself in the way she moved beneath him.

She moaned his name, the sound sent a shiver down his spine. Dean’s pace quickened, his hips moving in time with hers, each thrust deeper, harder, rougher. 

Her fingers tangled in his hair, her lips finding his again as they moved together, the rhythm growing faster, more urgent. Every sound she made, every arch of her back, every gasp and moan spurred him on, driving him closer to the edge.

Dean’s hand slipped between them, finding her clit, and the moment he touched her there, she cried out, her body trembling underneath him as her release hit her, hard and fast.

“Dean, oh my— i’m going to—” and with that, her walls clenched around him, gushing all over his length. Threatening to slip out of her, because of the force of her release, he thrusted himself deeper. And then, he couldn’t hold back any longer. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, I can’t—” and with a low groan, he followed her over the edge, his muscles tensing as his hot, white seed filled her, his hips bucking erratically as he tried to make his orgasm last as long as it is possible. 

For a long-long moment, neither of them dared to mov. Their bodies tangled together, the only sound is their ragged breathing as they came down from their highs. Dean’s forehead rested against hers, their lips brushing in soft, lazy kisses as they lay there, utterly spent.

They lay together in the quiet of the clearing, the warmth of their bodies cutting through the chilly air. Dean stared up at the sky, the stars barely visible through the branches overhead. His heart was still racing, his mind already starting to spin with what would come next. He still had no idea who she was. He still didn’t know if she was the one behind all those strange happenings around the area. 

Then reality crept back in.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Dean blinked, once, twice, his body stiffening. The warmth that had enveloped him was gone, replaced by the biting cold of the winter air. He lifted his head, eyes squinting in confusion as his surroundings snapped back into focus. The enchanted glow, the surreal energy of the forest… all gone. Just the regular, old clearing. And there, standing at the edge of it, was Sam, staring at him like he’d lost his damn mind.

“Dude” Sam started, his voice incredulous, “why the hell are you naked? It’s the middle of winter.”

Dean frowned, slowly realizing his current state. He glanced down at himself, sure enough, he was sprawled out on the cold, snowy moss, wearing nothing but his birthday suit. The warmth of her body and everything that had felt so real was now a distant memory. And yet… he swore it had happened.

“I…” Dean sat up, quickly gathering his clothes from the ground and putting them on, trying to come up with some kind of explanation that didn’t make him sound like a lunatic. “I was, uh… investigating.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Investigating? Naked? In the freezing cold?”

Dean let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his messy hair. “It’s— It’s a long story.”

“Yeah, well, make it quick, because I’ve been looking for you for an hour, man” Sam grumbled. “What happened? You were supposed to check out the weird stuff going on, not have some naked winter party.”

Dean’s gaze darted around the clearing. She was nowhere to be found, no sign of her leaf-woven dress, her touch, not even a trace of her pinewood scent. It was like she had never been there. The forest felt… ordinary now. The magic, the connection… they all seemed to have vanished with her.

“I’m not sure” Dean admitted, standing up and brushing the snow off his legs, the chill sinking into his bones now that reality was firmly back in place. “There was this… girl. I think.” He paused, frowning. “Maybe?”

“Girl?” Sam’s eyebrow shot up even higher.

“Yeah, I’ve been seeing her for a while now… She was—” Dean gestured vaguely, trying to put words to what had just happened, but it felt harder and harder to grasp the details. “She was real, I think. Or… maybe she wasn’t. She could’ve been some kind of forest spirit. Or maybe I hit my head?” He shrugged, genuinely at a loss. “I don’t know, man.”

Sam shook his head, clearly unimpressed. “So you’re saying you’ve been seeing a girl, possibly not real, and decided to strip naked in the middle of the forest when you saw her once more?”

Dean opened his mouth, then closed it, his frown deepening. “Okay, it sounds weird when you say it like that.”

“It is weird, Dean!” Sam exclaimed, motioning around them. “Do you see anyone else here? Anyone at all?”

Dean looked around the clearing again, trying to find any trace of her. There was nothing, just the trees, the snow, and the silent forest. No footprints, no clothes, no evidence that anyone other than him had been there at all. And yet, he could still feel her, the way her body had moved against his, the way her voice had whispered his name in the quiet of the night.

“I swear, it was real” Dean muttered, more to himself than to Sam. “I felt it.”

Sam sighed, getting Dean’s jacket from the ground and tossing it to him. “Whatever you felt, we need to get out of here before you freeze to death. We’ll figure it out later.”

Dean caught the jacket, wrapping it around himself with a huff. He wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, or if anything had happened at all, but there was still an ache in his chest, a feeling like he’d left something behind in that clearing. Or maybe it had all been in his head. Maybe the forest had cast some kind of spell on him, drawing him into some half-dream state where reality and fantasy blurred together. He wasn’t sure anymore. Was he— was he one of those victims he read about? But why does he remember it then? 

As he followed Sam out of the clearing, Dean glanced back one last time. The trees stood tall and silent, like keeping the secret of the girl’s presence. There was no sign of her. No shimmering figure stepping from the shadows, no soft voice calling him back.

But for just a second, he thought he saw something. — a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, a faint, glowing shimmer in the air.

He shook his head. Maybe he was imagining it. Or maybe… just maybe… she'd been real after all.

Sam glanced over at him, frowning. “Dean, you okay? You look… weird.”

Dean smirked, pulling the jacket tighter around him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… wondering if I’m gonna need therapy after this.”

Sam groaned. “Probably. Come on, let’s get you some dry clothes before you start hallucinating snow fairy porn again.”

Dean chuckled, though his mind lingered on the thought. Snow fairies, huh? He wouldn’t put it past the universe.

But as he walked away, he couldn’t help but wonder — had it been real? Or had it just been a fever dream? He’d never know for sure. But either way… he wasn’t complaining.

"Next time, though" he muttered under his breath, "I’m bringing a blanket."

Don’t even get me started. The crack fic muse made me do it. Not that I mind.🤭

Let me know what you think.

And have a nice day!🤍

[retiredteabag]

winter weight (nanami ver)

Synopsis: nanami has gained some weight this winter, it seems you don't mind.

based on this fanfic I wrote for Toji which was based on this fanart! thank you @lil-sis for requesting more nanami :,)

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

You had known Nanami Kento for years before you were romantically involved. He had never made an inappropriate comment, always treated you with the utmost respect, and was all-around, the truest form of a gentleman.

For a time, you locked away your feelings for the kind man, sure he could never see you in that way, but little did you know, the man in question hid from your gaze, not because he did not want to see you, but in fear that you would see him. See him for what he was: a man, obsessed.

You had been with Ken for nine months now and he was everything you could want and more. He was communicative, thoughtful, and romantic. He looked at you in a way nobody had before. Likewise, for you, those nine months passed with comfortable ease.

This was your first winter together, and with the changing of the seasons you learned day by day that the man you knew was your life partner. The both of you were homebodies in a sense, however, with the chilly air and light snowfall this week, you were even more keen on a night in together.

You raced around the house, lighting candles, simmering mulling spices on the stove, and laying out blankets for the two of you. The house felt even cozier knowing that Ken was coming to join you.

He had spent the afternoon with his parents and was coming over after having dinner, he told you to eat without him and you had just finished cleaning your plate when you received a text,

"I am on my way now, sweetheart, is there anything you would like from the store?"

Ken was like this, domestic in the way that made you want to bounce around the room. You thought for a moment before deciding you would probably need more eggs. Earlier this week the two of you had planned a movie night, the next morning you were both hoping to bake cookies together while playing board games or taking turns reading to one another.

You informed him of the need for eggs and he told you he would be just a few more minutes. During that time you scrolled through the choices of movies, picking a few for the two of you to choose from.

Despite being together longer than the gestational period for a baby human, you still received butterflies in your stomach at the thought of his arrival. Knowing he was nearly home, you bounded to the kitchen and faced the door, the room smelled delicious, the only thing missing was his presence, and perhaps another layer of clothing.

Even so, you could hear his footsteps approach and knew that the two of you would share a blanket and body heat in no time.

When the man finally opened the door he was smiling shyly, a red dusting across his face from the cold. He wore a long winter coat, and in his arms were a bouquet of flowers and a wrapped gift.

You rushed to greet him, taking the day bag from his arm,

"Oh! Ken, they're beautiful!" You stood on tiptoe as he bent his knee and you kissed his cold cheek. "Goodness, you're freezing! Come in please!"

"Hello, my love." He smiled more broadly now, wrapping his free arm around you, "This if from my parents, but they told me not to let you open it until the holidays."

A warmth ran through you, the Nanami's were all too kind. Kento set the flowers on the counter and stepped toward the coat rack by the door to retire his shoes and jacket.

In the motion it took for him to pull the sleeves off his broad shoulders, you took him in. Leaning on the kitchen counter you allowed yourself to stare at him. His dress shirt was tight on his arms, and his suit pants clung to his thighs. You took a step toward him again.

"I almost don't want you to change, you look so handsome in your work clothes."

"Well, I've certainly put on some weight. These pants hardly fit now." he looks increasingly uncomfortable, not to be in your presence but to show that he was dressed in such a tailored fashion.

"Ken, my dear, you look incredible." You contain the desire to squeeze his thigh by walking to the bedroom and bringing out a pair of sweats and a cotton shirt.

"Although you are a delight to see this way, I'll let you get comfortable." You smile and pinch his bicep.

"Thank you, dear, I don't believe I've ever been so heavy. It's all the good restaurants you introduce me to, perhaps I should get back into the gym." He had grabbed the soft clothes you picked for him and walked into the bedroom to change.

"You're the one bringing me to all those good restaurants so you can't just blame me." You smile from outside the door.

"I'm just grateful you're with me" He laughs, pulling the shirt over his head.

"Ugh!" You exclaim, "Of course, Ken, don't say something so ridiculous." He laughs but you are still caught on what he said earlier. "And don't start going to the gym, you look great, very chewable."

He pops out from behind the door and looks down at you, amused. "I'm not sure how to feel about that descriptor, but if you still like me with extra weight, then I suppose I can remain comfortable."

"Still like you?" You gasp offended, "Ken, I grow more attracted to you every day, I don't care how tight your clothes are, in fact, it's a good look."

He gives you a mischievous face, "Go sit on the couch, pick a movie, stop trying to seduce me."

You laugh, incredulous, "I'm not trying anything, I'm only speaking the truth." You shrug, bounding to the couch and crawling beneath the blanket. Ken brings two mugs of cider before joining you.

That night you lay on his chest, watching a cheesy romance, the both of you laughing at the silly main character. You tilt your head up, to watch his face, your eyes catching the beginning of a few grey hairs dispersed in his blonde hair. You gently run your hand through his undercut.

In that moment, in his arms, as comfortable as you've ever been, you are sure, he is the man you will grow old with.

[percyjackson-post]

What the Percy Jackson and Olympians characters would give as birthday gifts

Percy- A homemade baked good. That boy loves birthdays, and he loves baking; you will not convince me of anything else. He’s bringing something with far too much sugar and a truly concerning amount of blue dye. Most often his gift is blue cookies his mom helped him bake.

Annabeth- That girl is spending weeks agonizing over what to get. She needs it to be perfect, and she has to know you’ll love it. Which you will because she managed to track down something you mentioned 7 months ago that you think about constantly. It’s usually a very practical gift, but it is exactly what you need. One year it’s new headphones, another it's a brighter lamp; it's always something you want but can’t convince yourself is a priority.

Hazel- Hazel is making you a homemade card and a personalized drawing. She puts in so much effort, and it’s truly a beautiful gift. The minute she hands it to you, her eyes are shining, and she’s fighting back the biggest grin as she waits for your reaction. It will almost definitely be an intricate drawing of your favorite memory with her.

Frank- His gift is a small handmade trinket that took him a lot longer to make than he’d be willing to admit. It’s intricate and exactly your style. He looks a bit embarrassed and nervous as you open it, but then he's smiling and excitedly explaining exactly why he wanted to make it for you. It’s something like a wooden carving of your favorite animal or a new cover for your weapon. 

Leo- You never know what you’re going to get from him, but you do know it will leave you laughing so hard your sides hurt. It’s also a handmade gift, but it’s less personalized and more something Leo thinks is cool and he knows you’ll also like. The fact it may be a fire hazard is just a part of the charm. His gift is a small animatronic toy that can and will turn into a dangerous weapon.

Jason- He listens a lot more than you give him credit for. He will always end up giving you something super meaningful that will remind you of how much he cares. It’s not an extravagant gift; it’s something you’ll use a lot or will see constantly and smile to yourself as you’re reminded of the memory. It’s a weighted blanket for late nights or a new version stuffed animal you loved but lost.

Piper- Her gifts are always incredibly chaotic, but you realize there is a lot of thought put into them. She’s got a good memory and will pick something very specific that you mentioned off-handedly once. You don’t need it, but life will be a bit more fun with it than without. A ridiculous, bendy straw to drink from bed or a blanket that looks like food—truly,  you will never be prepared for what you get.

Thalia- She tries to be nonchalant, but she’s got a sly smile, and you can see how excited she is to give you a gift. It’s almost guaranteed to be a weapon, but it will be absolutely perfect for what you need. You can tell she spent a long time picking something out for you specifically, but she’s going to play it off like she just happened to come across it. 

Nico- Whatever he gives you will surprise you, that’s for certain. A lot of people joke that he’s bringing some basic dark gift, but that excited 10-year-old boy is still just as much a part of him, however. His gift is something you’ll be able to do with friends and something that will keep spirits high and laughter going. Often it is a card game that you can tuck away and take with you; he knows what it’s like to feel alone on a quest.

Will- He’s giving you a free pass to not be scolded the next time you end up in the infirmary. You need it. Kidding…mostly. He’s getting you something semi-specific from the mortal world that you can share with friends. Sometimes it goes with Nico’s gift, but it’s also something completely his own. A set of movie CDs, a giant container of popcorn (he’s not as stuck up on health as everyone likes to tease)

Grover- Enchiladas. It’s not even a question or hypothetical that guy is bringing over at least 20 cheese enchiladas from his favorite restaurant. You’ll be lucky if they last more than 10 minutes. They’re incredible, and even if you’ve had them 20 times you’re eating, them like the ambrosia of the god

[cherriecove]

Fine Line Between Duty and Oaths (Part 10)

Gwayne Hightower x Targ!Reader

Summary: The second born daughter of King Viserys I Targaryen and Queen Aemma is just as brave, beautiful and stubborn as her older sister but cannot deny her growing love for a certain red haired knight who just so happens to be a dear friend's brother.

Cherrie's Note: Hi everyone, I am pretty sure that this is the longest thing I've written so far so I hope you enjoy! Please feel free to message me about feedback or even requests!

Masterlist | Previous Part |

The days leading up to the royal wedding passed in a whirlwind of excitement and anxiety. The Red Keep was bustling with preparations: tailors from all over the Seven Kingdoms had arrived, vying for the royal family to honour them with their patronage. Banners were being hung, and the kitchens were filled with the sweet smells of honey cakes and roasted meats. Despite all the joy of the impending union, there lay an undercurrent of tension. It was no secret that the small council was urging your father to remarry, and the matter seemed to grow more urgent with each passing day. As you walked through the halls, the main topic of court appeared to be about who would become your new stepmother, rather than your wedding to Gwayne.

The uncertainty and the constant presence of this topic felt like a weight upon both you and Rhaenyra. The already anxiety-inducing thought of leaving your dear sister to start your life as a married woman gnawed at your heart, as if you were leaving a part of yourself behind. This heartache was worsened by the knowledge that another woman would soon replace your mother in the eyes of the people. The marriage would most likely be political rather than one of love; this was the one thing you were most certain of. The encouragement to remarry stemmed from the small council's dislike of Rhaenyra being named heir—they favoured the possibility that this new bride might provide your father with sons. The preference for following patriarchal ideals had already taken your mother’s life, but it seemed the gods were not satisfied with that alone and now wished to replace her legacy. The loss of the queen was still felt deeply within your family, but neither you nor Rhaenyra could ignore the fear of losing the closeness your grief had forged with your father.

One evening, as you sat in your chambers with Rhaenyra, the reality of your departure felt all the more inevitable. Your elder sister was uncharacteristically silent, something you found unsettling. It wasn’t like her to be so withdrawn. As you sat at your vanity, you studied her face while she focused on brushing your hair—a habit you often shared when you both needed to be close. Her eyes were fixed on her task, and her usual smile had been replaced with a slight frown. Rhaenyra paused, her hand stilling in your hair, and tension radiated off her in waves. Just as you were about to ask if she was alright, she broke the silence.

"I don’t want you to leave me, hāedar," she said quietly, her voice tight with emotion.

You met her eyes in the mirror, and an aching tug filled your heart.

"I don’t want to leave you either, Nyra," you replied softly. "But I have to. Gwayne and I are to make our vows, and I want to be with him."

Rhaenyra pressed her lips together, her brows furrowing as she resumed brushing your hair, though her strokes were slower and more hesitant.

"It feels like everything is changing," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "First it was Mother and the baby, and now you. It feels like we’re losing something or someone every day. I haven’t been alone since you were born. How will I manage when you’ve been taken away?"

Her words struck a chord within you, her feelings mirroring your own. You reached up and gently grasped her hand.

"You will always have me, mandia. Regardless of where I am. And we will see each other—I’ll make sure of it."

Rhaenyra smiled at your words, but it didn’t reach her eyes, which were filled with unshed tears.

"I know. But it will never be the same. And with Father… I don’t know how I feel about him choosing a new wife."

You nodded in understanding. The idea of someone else stepping into your mother’s place felt like another loss.

"It won’t be easy," you admitted. "But we’ll face it together. Whoever he chooses, we’ll make sure she knows who we are—that you are our future queen, regardless of any children she may provide."

Rhaenyra’s eyes softened as she squeezed your hand.

"Promise me you won’t change. That you’ll still be the sister who sneaks lemon cakes with me, that you won’t let Oldtown turn you into a pious, boring courtly lady."

You laughed, a pure, genuine sound that lightened the air.

"I promise you, no distance will ever change that."

The morning of your wedding was quite possibly the busiest you had ever seen the Keep. The clatter of maids and seamstresses rushing about the halls mingled with the hum of excitement as the final preparations were being made. You stood in your chambers, surrounded by Rhaenyra, Alicent, and your handmaiden. Rhaenyra and Alicent had been constant presences in the last few days, ensuring they spent as much time as possible with you before the separation. They had even arranged for the three of you to have baths together, with lots of warm water and scented oils often becoming the main feature of Rhaenyra’s chambers. Despite the tension between your father and Otto Hightower, Alicent had remained steadfast in her friendship; her quiet support had been a source of comfort. The bond between you now felt more like that of sisters than mere friends.

As Rhaenyra worked on securing the last intricate braid of your hair, Alicent helped you slip into your wedding gown, her movements careful and delicate. The gown itself was a masterpiece—your father had spared no expense. The dress was woven with Valyrian silver threads, with the Targaryen dragon embroidered subtly across the bodice. The long, flowing sleeves echoed the ancient gowns of Old Valyria, a nod to your roots and your father’s passions.

"You look beautiful," Alicent whispered, her voice soft with admiration.

You glanced at the red-haired girl, smiling warmly.

"I feel like I’m floating."

Rhaenyra, having finished with your hair, stepped back to admire her handiwork.

"As you should," she teased lightly. "You’re marrying a knight and flying off to Oldtown. Just don’t forget us when you’re there."

You turned to face both of them, taking a deep breath.

"I could never. I have two sisters close to my heart now. You and Alicent—you’re both part of me."

Rhaenyra’s lips quirked into a small, bittersweet smile, while Alicent’s eyes grew glassy with emotion.

"How dare you make me feel things," Rhaenyra jested, attempting to lighten the mood.

The Great Hall was filled with nobles from all corners of the realm, their finery on full display. The banners of House Targaryen and House Hightower hung side by side, symbolising the union of two powerful families. At the head of the hall, King Viserys sat on the Iron Throne, his expression a mixture of pride and lingering sadness as he prepared to watch his daughter take this significant step in her life.

The ceremony was a mesmerising fusion of Targaryen and Faith of the Seven customs, each tradition seamlessly woven into the fabric of the day. The Septon stood tall before the gathered crowd, his hands raised in solemn prayer as he called upon the blessings of the Seven to watch over you and Gwayne. His voice echoed through the grand hall, invoking the Maiden for purity, the Warrior for strength, the Father for protection, and the Mother for guidance. Yet, while the blessings of the Seven were important, it was the Targaryen rites that truly resonated with you, their significance running deep within your bloodline. As the moment approached for the Valyrian vows, your heart raced with anticipation, swelling with emotion and history.

Before you stood Gwayne, the man who would soon be your husband. Clad in the green and white of House Hightower, the colours were striking against the backdrop of the ancient hall. His hand reached out toward you, fingers steady yet tender. His gaze was unwavering, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with an unspoken promise. Despite the grandeur of the occasion—the regal banners that hung from the walls, the flickering candlelight casting a warm glow, and the countless eyes upon you—everything else seemed to fade. In that moment, it felt as if the world had narrowed to just the two of you, standing together, united in purpose and love.

You were the first to speak, your voice soft yet strong, carrying the weight of generations. The ancient words of your ancestors flowed from your lips like a melody, each syllable steeped in tradition and meaning.

"Nyke rūvēbagon ao, issa jorrāelagon. Ēlīrion ziry arlī. Naejot nūmāzma, nyke pāsagon bē naejot ziry rūsīr." I bind myself to you, my love. From this day until the end of days, I will walk with you.

The Valyrian words, so familiar yet sacred, hung in the air between you, like an invisible thread tying you both to the past and to the future. You could feel the weight of their meaning settle in your heart, binding you to Gwayne in a way that transcended time and place.

Gwayne met your gaze, his eyes shining with both love and determination. You knew how hard he had worked to master the unfamiliar Valyrian tongue, spending days—perhaps weeks—practising these very words. When he spoke, there was a slight tremor in his voice, not of fear, but of the significance of the moment. His pronunciation stumbled ever so slightly, but his sincerity was undeniable.

"Nyke rūvēbagon ao... issa jorrāelagon. Ēlīrion ziry arlī. Naejot nūmāzma... nyke pāsagon bē naejot ziry rūsīr."

Your heart softened as you listened to him. Though the words were foreign to his tongue, their meaning was not. In his voice, you heard the depth of his love, his willingness to embrace not only you but the traditions that were so deeply a part of who you were. His love for you, and his commitment to your shared future, radiated from him like a beacon, stronger than any stumble over the ancient language.

A soft smile played on your lips, the intimacy of the moment enveloping you despite the opulence of the hall and the presence of so many witnesses. It felt as though time had stilled, and in that suspended breath, the two of you stood at the precipice of a new beginning. Your worlds—Targaryen and Hightower—were being brought together, not only by this union but by the promises you had just made to one another.

The ceremony continued with the exchange of rings, the smooth metal sliding onto your finger, a tangible symbol of the vows you had spoken. The Septon offered final blessings, his voice rising once more in prayer, but you barely heard him. All you could focus on was Gwayne, standing there, as bound to you as you were to him—by vows both ancient and new, by fire and faith.

When the final blessing was given and the hall erupted into applause, you felt a wave of joy surge through you. Gwayne turned toward you, his face lit up with warmth and joy, his smile wide and unguarded. Without hesitation, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that felt both tender and triumphant. Around you, the crowd’s cheers rose, their voices blending together into a sound like the distant roar of dragons.

The Great Hall was alight with celebration after the wedding ceremony, its high vaulted ceilings echoing with laughter, music, and the clink of goblets filled with the finest wine from across the realm. Long tables were laden with platters of roasted meats, sweet fruits, and delicacies meant to honour the union of House Targaryen and House Hightower. Banners bearing both houses' sigils fluttered overhead, the Targaryen dragon and Hightower beacon intertwined in a show of unity.

You sat at the head table beside Gwayne, your hand resting comfortably in his, fingers interlaced as if you couldn’t bear to be separated even for a moment. He smiled at you, a soft, adoring expression that warmed your heart. The hall was loud and vibrant, but the world felt quiet and intimate in the small bubble you both created. You couldn’t stop stealing glances at him, the reality of your marriage still sinking in. Gwayne was yours now—your husband—and you, his wife. The weight of that truth was thrilling.

Across the hall, Rhaenyra and Alicent exchanged looks, both beaming at you with obvious joy. The tension that had shadowed your lives since your mother’s passing seemed to lift, if only for this night. Rhaenyra caught your eye, a mischievous glint in her gaze, and you knew exactly what was coming next. She stood abruptly, waving a hand to the musicians, and the hall quietened for a moment before erupting into cheerful applause as the first notes of a lively dance filled the air.

“Come on, dear sister,” Rhaenyra called from her place, grinning widely. “No wedding is complete without a dance!”

Gwayne chuckled softly, squeezing your hand as he stood and extended it to you. “Shall we?”

You felt your cheeks warm as you took his hand, allowing him to lead you to the centre of the hall, where couples were already gathering. The music swelled, and soon you were twirling under the twinkling lights of the Great Hall, Gwayne’s hand steady on your waist, guiding you effortlessly through the steps. His laughter was infectious as you spun together, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You dance far better than I expected for a knight,” you teased, breathless from the movement.

“And you, my princess, dance with all the grace of a dragon taking flight,” Gwayne replied with a smirk, his tone playful.

You laughed, the sound bright and carefree, and for a moment, the whole room felt distant. It was just you and Gwayne, your hearts beating in time with the rhythm of the music, a perfect match.

As the song drew to a close, Rhaenyra pulled you away from Gwayne, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "You’ve had enough of your husband for now," she teased. "It’s time for the sisters to share a dance."

You twirled with Rhaenyra next, your hands entwined as the two of you moved effortlessly through the dance floor. Her smile was genuine, full of love and happiness for you. “I’ll miss you,” she said softly as you spun together, her voice barely audible over the music.

“I’ll miss you more,” you replied, your chest tightening at the thought of leaving her behind in King’s Landing. But for now, there was no sadness—only joy, only this moment.

Alicent soon joined the fray, pulling you both into a playful circle, the three of you laughing together as you danced. The bond between the three of you felt stronger than ever, and though there had been difficult times, it was clear that the friendship and love you shared could endure anything.

As the lively reception continued, the sounds of music and laughter filled the hall. You had been swept into the rhythm of the evening, dancing and speaking with guests, but as you stepped away for a moment of air, you found your father standing near the edge of the courtyard. The warm glow of lanterns illuminated his familiar face, making the silver strands in his hair catch the light. He smiled when he saw you approaching, his eyes filled with pride.

“You look radiant tonight,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, but steady as always. "Just as beautiful as your mother was on our wedding day."

His words made your heart tighten with affection. You reached out and took his hand, feeling the callouses that had been there for as long as you could remember.

“I wish she could be here,” you whispered, your voice softer now, filled with a longing that had been quietly sitting in the back of your mind.

“She is here, my sweet girl, in the love we carry forward,” he said, squeezing your hand gently, a quiet reminder of the legacy you had inherited. “And I can see so much of her in you, especially tonight.”

You leaned into him, finding comfort in the familiar embrace of your father. It felt good to share this moment with him. “Thank you, Father. For everything.”

He looked down at you, his gaze serious. “This is only the beginning, my daughter. You and Gwayne will face challenges, but always remember that family comes first. Lean on each other, trust each other, and never forget the strength that comes from unity.”

As the music played on, you looked back toward the hall, where Gwayne was chatting animatedly with Rhaenyra and Alicent, laughter bubbling around them. Your heart swelled with affection for him. He was your partner, your equal, and together, you would navigate whatever lay ahead.

After several more dances and rounds of wine, the energy of the hall began to feel overwhelming; the excitement was almost too much to bear. You exchanged a knowing look with Gwayne, who seemed to read your thoughts immediately. His hand found yours again, and with a small, playful smile, he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“Shall we sneak away, my love?” he murmured, his voice low and full of mischief.

You grinned, feeling a rush of exhilaration. “Lead the way, husband.” With careful steps, you slipped away from the throngs of people, unnoticed as the revelry continued in full swing. Gwayne guided you through the familiar stone corridors of the Keep, your hand tucked securely in his as you moved swiftly past guards and courtiers. The cool, quiet halls felt like a world apart from the boisterous celebrations, and your heart raced with anticipation.

Finally, Gwayne stopped, pulling you into a secluded alcove near one of the grand windows overlooking the city. The moonlight bathed the room in a soft, silvery glow, and for a moment, the two of you stood there, catching your breath, laughing at the thrill of your escape.

“I think we’ve officially abandoned our own wedding feast,” Gwayne said with a grin, his eyes dancing with amusement.

“I think they’ll manage without us for a little while,” you replied, stepping closer to him. The playful atmosphere shifted as the space between you disappeared, the weight of the moment settling in. You were married now, bound to each other for life, and the realisation sent a shiver of excitement down your spine.

Gwayne’s hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “You know, I never imagined this,” he said softly, his voice filled with awe. “Marrying you, being here like this. It feels... unreal.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with love for him. “It feels perfect.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You simply stood there, gazing at each other, the magnitude of the day sinking in. Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, Gwayne leaned down and kissed you, his lips soft and warm against yours. The kiss was slow, tender, full of the promise of everything yet to come. Your hand grasped his tunic, your senses focused solely on him.

When you finally pulled apart, you were both breathless, but your smiles spoke volumes that words couldn’t convey. “Well,” Gwayne said with a playful smirk, “I suppose we should return to our guests before they notice our absence. Though I wouldn’t mind staying here a little longer.”

You laughed, tugging him toward the hall again. “Come on, husband, let’s not give the courtiers something to gossip about on our first night as husband and wife.”

Gwayne groaned dramatically but followed, his hand still clasped in yours. “As my wife commands.”

Hand in hand, you returned to the feast, your hearts full and your souls bound, ready to face whatever life had in store for you together.

The Great Hall gradually quietened as the feast drew to an end. Guests trickled out, content with food, wine, and revelry, while the musicians played the final soft notes of a ballad. You and Gwayne remained at the head of the hall, but you could already feel the subtle glances cast your way, the unspoken expectation that the bedding ceremony should commence soon.

But that moment never came.

King Viserys, seated beside his daughters, had made it clear to the courtiers: there would be no bedding ceremony. No raucous crowd of drunken nobles tearing at your clothes, no jeering chants echoing through the castle halls. Instead, the King rose to his feet, silencing the last whispers, and raised his goblet in a final toast to the newlyweds.

"Tonight," Viserys declared, his voice steady yet warm, "my daughter and her husband shall have their privacy. I trust them to find their own way together, with no interference from us. Let this be the start of their journey, not only as husband and wife but as partners, as equals."

A murmur of approval swept through the hall, though some lords seemed disappointed by the lack of spectacle. Gwayne stood beside you, his hand once again finding yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Relief washed over you, grateful for your father’s understanding.

After the final goodbyes were said, the two of you were quietly escorted to your chambers. The flickering candlelight cast soft, golden shadows on the stone walls as the door to your room closed behind you, leaving you and Gwayne alone.

For a moment, there was a brief, almost shy silence. Both of you had been caught up in the whirl of the day—the ceremony, the feast, the dances—that now, in the stillness, the enormity of it all began to settle in. You were married. You had chosen each other, not just for duty but for love, and that realisation filled the space between you with a new kind of energy.

Gwayne turned to you, his expression soft, his smile gentle. “Are you as nervous as I am?” he asked, his voice laced with tenderness and a hint of vulnerability.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and warm. “Perhaps a little,” you admitted, stepping closer to him. “But mostly... I’m just happy. So very happy.”

His hands found your waist, pulling you gently toward him, and you felt the warmth of his body seep into yours. “I am too,” he whispered, his lips brushing your forehead. “I never thought I would marry someone as captivating as you.” There were no words needed after that. The tenderness between you both, the love you shared, was enough. The night passed in quiet, stolen kisses and whispered promises of forever. There was no rush, no pressure, just the sweet unfolding of two hearts finally joined, fully and completely.

Afterward, you lay together in the quiet of your chambers, Gwayne’s arm draped protectively over you as you rested your head on his chest. The warmth of the hearth, the soft rustle of the sheets, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat created a cocoon of peace around you both.

“I was thinking,” Gwayne murmured, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin. You smiled and pushed yourself up, looking at the red-haired young man. “A dangerous pastime for you, no?”

Gwayne laughed and shook his head. “Yes, indeed. My brain is about to implode at the effort of my princess.” You laughed and settled back down to your earlier position, encouraging your husband to continue. “Anyway, before I was rudely interrupted, I was thinking about what our life will be like in Oldtown. Do you think they’d allow us to build a dragonpit there?”

You looked up at him, your eyes twinkling with amusement. “A dragonpit in Oldtown? Surely the septons would have a heart attack.”

“Well,” Gwayne said, grinning, “we’ll need somewhere to house Vermithor and Silverwing, won’t we?” You smiled, the thought of your dragons resting in Oldtown sparking excitement. “It’ll have to be large enough, though. Not just for them.”

Gwayne raised his eyebrows in a questioning manner. “Well, we need a place for all their future clutches. Our children will be part dragon after all.” He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. “Of course. We’ll need to plan for a whole brood of dragons. Oldtown might not know what to do with itself when we arrive.”

The idea of building a future together—not just a home but a legacy—filled you with joy. You could see it clearly: the two of you in Oldtown, your dragons soaring over the city, your life filled with love and adventure. It was a future you hadn’t dared to dream of, and now it was within your grasp.

The morning of your departure arrived all too soon. The excitement of the wedding had faded into a bittersweet calm, and the reality of leaving King’s Landing—and Rhaenyra—was heavy on your heart.

Rhaenyra stood by the stables, her face tight with emotion as you approached. You knew this was hard for her. The two of you had been through so much together, and now, the idea of being separated felt like a deep, aching wound.

“You’ll visit,” she said, her voice soft but firm, as though she were willing it to be true.

“Of course I will,” you replied, pulling her into a tight embrace. “I’ll fly over whenever I can, and you’ll always have a place with us in Oldtown.”

Rhaenyra squeezed you tightly, her breath catching as she held back tears. “It’s not fair,” she whispered. “Emā ōños lantra syt tolī... Nyke daor ivestragī iā ao nūmāzma.” We’ve already lost so much... I can’t bear to lose you too.

“Ao daor ivestragī nyke,” You’re not losing me, you reassured her, your own tears threatening to spill. “Īlva mandia iksi. Daorun ivestragon ziry.” We’re sisters. Nothing will change that. Rhaenyra pulled back slightly, her violet eyes glistening with emotion. “Nyke jorrāelagon ao,” she said softly, her voice breaking. I love you.

“Se nyke jorrāelagon ao,” you whispered back. And I love you. “Va moriot.” Always.

Alicent appeared beside you, her own eyes watery, though she managed to keep her composure. “Don’t be a stranger,” she said, giving you a small smile before wrapping you in a warm hug. “Oldtown isn’t so far, you know.”

You smiled through your tears. “I’ll write, and you can visit too. There’s plenty of room for all of us.”

When it was time to say your final goodbye to your father, King Viserys, you could see the sadness etched into his face. He pulled you into a long embrace, holding you tighter than he had in a long time.

“I’ll miss you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve always been the rational one, the one who tempered Rhaenyra’s fire.”

You smiled softly, feeling the lump in your throat grow. “She’ll be fine, Father. She’s strong. But I’ll miss you too.”

Viserys pulled back, his hands resting on your shoulders as he looked at you, his eyes full of pride and sadness. “You’ve made me proud,” he said quietly. “Go and build the life you deserve. And know that you’ll always have a place here.”

With that, the final goodbyes were said. Gwayne helped you into the carriage as you saw Vermithor and Silverwing circle overhead. Your heart was a mixture of excitement and sorrow as you waved to Rhaenyra and Alicent until they were no longer in sight.

[writersdrug]

Hi Jane~ 👋🏽 I just read your post about not being able to post anything new rn (esp in regards to bartender!Ghost who everyone is head over heels for, including me 😆🤭💕) and I'm sure I'm not the only one who is curious to know if you have a Kofi or something similar that you'd like to share?

I know some people aren't comfortable with advertising such a thing bc maybe they feel like they're "begging" or asking for donations when most writers post their work for free, but maybe you could look at it as like, a tip jar? Just a thought! You obviously don't have to if you don't want to for any reason (you don't owe us an explanation as to why either), and you don't even have to post this ask, but I thought I'd bring it up in case maybe you read all this and figured "that's not too bad of an idea!" 😆😉✨️

That being said, best of luck with everything you've got going on now! 🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀

Hey there!!

First of all, this is a very sweet message - and to everyone who's mentioned supporting me, I really appreciate you all! I don't expect help, but it is received with a big thank you when it is given. I just started a Kofi since some of you were asking - again, please don't feel like you have to give anything. But if you'd like to, it's here!

Once again, thanks so much to everyone who was mentioning this! Bartender!Simon don't take a backseat for too long, I just have to make sure Starr is OK and then we'll be back on track ❤️❤️ I'll always write whether or not you choose to give me something!

As always, love you all!!

[reshaaaxsimmies]

Whispering Winds Campground

Hey Simmers! I just made a new lot for you to enjoy — a 50x50 "Visitors Allowed" lot that I made for my story and thought I’d share with y’all! 🌲 It’s the perfect spot for your Sims’ families or for sending the kiddos off to a cozy summer camp! 🏕️

More info under the cut!

I built it in Far Watch, so the background is a bit sparse on trees, but I was going for a realistic, well-worn woodsy vibe. It features:

🌟 Three cabins, with one for the camp counselors 🌟 A mess hall 🌟 A cute bridge over Bone Lake (shaped like a bone, of course 🦴) 🌟 Tons of activities & skill-building for your Sims to enjoy! 🎨⚽

It’s mostly CC-free (I'll link the things I used if you want it to look exactly the same)

Grant Park Screen Doors Fence (Used for the bridge) Sanyosims Dumpster Lawn Chairs White Hydrangea (idek where I got it) Back to Basix Windows ATS3 FULL Camping Set ATS3 Single Airbed, Scuplture, & Trashcan ATS3 Punching Bag ATS3 Cooler ILTS Yuxi Floors ILTS Fiddledeedee Walls Outdoor Seating Tree Industrial Strength Door (Bathroom)

And as always, feel free to edit it how you like — after all, our games are our own custom worlds! 🌍💕

If you use it, tag me! I’d love to see your Sims having fun at Whispering Winds Campground! 🥰

Happy Simming! 💚

Download

[iloveelliefanfics]

Bela's sweet little thing ୨ৎ

synopsis: you're friends with the Dimitrescu daughters, but your relationship with bela turns from friends to... more

summary: mentions of nicknames, flirting, fluff, friends to lovers, wc is about 1k.

pairing: confident/flirty bela x shy reader (no pronouns used for reader)

story is proofread, i take requests

a/n: this is my first post, thank you if you take your time to read this! english isn't my first language so if you find anything that i should correct, please feel free to do so. pics are from pinterest!!

It was just a usual normal day around the castle. You befriended the Dimitrescu daughter's after a few weeks you had moved to the village with your family. Their Mother, Alcina Dimitrescu liked you from the very start, which was rare, considering how overprotective she was when it came to her daughter's. The summer breeze kissed your skin as you made your way to the beautiful castle to spend time with Bela, Cassandra and Daniela.

Although, you mostly spend time with Bela, she has the same interests as you, it made you two connect very quickly. Your shared love for music and art was lovely. If you weren't playing on an instrument with her, or listened to your favorite songs, you walked around the castle viewing the beautiful painting's they had hanging on the walls. This time was no different. As much as you loved spending time with Daniela and Cassandra, you loved every moment spent with Bela even more. Secretly, she adored you, so did you adored her.

Everything felt... Natural when it came to you and her. Every conversation, every second, every stolen look, every laugh. Little did she know she started developing a crush on you. Maybe you had too. You weren't too sure of your feelings. Lately you started feeling nervous around her, longing stares felt like you were going to blow up any minute if you wouldn't stop looking at her. She's too gorgeous not to look at.

You tried denying that you like her. That you really started developing feelings. Once you had realised, you wanted to act on it. You wanted something to happen so badly, but it's easier said than done. Even if it's just your skin brushing against each other's it was still... something.

She was stuck in your head while you were walking. Once you were at the castle, the enormous gates opened, revealing the three daughter's. They were always on time when you talked about catching a break and spending time together. They rushed to you, hugging you tightly. They are always so, so welcoming.

"Y/N, hi, you finally arrived! We have prepared tea for you." -Bela said with a huge grin while nudging you inside the castle.

While you were walking through the hallway and as the daughter's were chatting, you couldn't help but catch Bela looking at you from time to time. Once you arrived in the living room, all of you sat down, and started talking.

Hours passed, which felt like seconds. When Daniela and Cassandra returned to their bedroom, you were left alone with Bela.

"I have a few new things to show you, c'mon." Bela suggested and held out her hand to help you up. You accepted her hand with a smile, clinging onto her.

As she led you through the hallway, with intertwined arm's, you were lost in your thoughts, thinking how could you give a hint that you want to be more than friends.

"Y/N, you there?" she bumped into you with her shoulder, bringing you back to reality.

"Huh? Yeah, just lost in my thoughts. Were you saying something?" You ask, confusion visible on your face.

"Yes, I was saying that i had a new painting I want to show you." She smiled at you, leaning closer to you.

To make you walk faster she placed a hand on your waist, guiding you through the rooms and hallways of the castle.

"You look really pretty today, sweetheart." She complimented on your appearance, making you blush, by not just the compliment but also the nickname.

"Definitely not better than you, Bela" You return the compliment, catching her off guard. She turns her head to hide her blush, she's not used to compliments.

"Oh, returning my compliments, now, sweetheart?" She asks, confidently walking beside you.

"Just because i returned it, doesn't mean it isn't true, sweetheart" You return the nickname, making her laugh.

Her hand remained on your waist, guiding you in silence. You find yourselves standing in front of a large window overlooking the castle grounds, the sun is setting, its light still visible from the castle window, so you're still met with a spectacular view.

You notice that she's standing a little closer to you than she'd usually stand, as she likes to keep her own personal space. You gaze out upon the darkening landscape together, admiring it, wishing it could last forever.

"Quite the nice view huh?" Bela says with her usual sly grin, after taking in the views.

"Yes... Quite the nice view." You nod in agreement and you both look back out the window, watching the sun begin to sink behind the surrounding mountains. It's a breathtaking view, with shadows starting to fill the grounds as the light fades.

"Yeah," she responds, "It's a nice view, alright." She says as she looks in your way.

She looks over to you, meeting your gaze, a sly smirk still across her lips as she admires you in the fading sunlight. You notice now that she's standing much closer than she was earlier, less than a foot separating you two. Her smile grows, almost sultry, as she continues to look into your eyes.

"Although," Bela says, her voice just above a whisper, "The view right in front of me might be even more appealing..."

You blush, words stuck in your throat. Is it actually happening? You can feel your cheeks flush under her gaze, her words sending a shiver down your spine. Bela notices your reaction and her smile grows even wider, enjoying the effect she's currently having on you.

"No need to be so shy." She says softly, taking a small step closer, closing the remaining gap between you and her. Her lominous eyes never leaving yours, you get lost in her eyes. She brings a hand up to brush some hair away from your face, her fingers gently tracing your jawline. She can feel the heat of your blush as you struggle to respond, your eyes wide and your pulse beginning to quicken. Bela knows she has your full attention now, and she's loving it.

She let's her fingers drift from your jaw to your chin, gently tilting your head up to maintain eye contact as she closes the space between you two.

"You're so cute when you blush like that," She murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper, leaning closer to your ears. "It almost makes me want to keep teasing you, you sweet little thing..."

"Bela..." Your breathe quickens "Maybe i put myself in situations like this to make you tease me.*

You exit the window-lined hallway and continue down the dark passageway. The castle is quiet now, most of the maids have already retired to bed, leaving you alone in the dimly-lit corridors. Your footsteps echoing softly in the silence as you make your way to the art room. As you walk, she glances over to you, admiring your profile in the low light. She smiles slightly, enjoying the quiet moment between you.

You know," Bela begins after a few moments. "You never asked me what the painting is of," She points out, gently bumping your shoulder, "You just agreed to see it, sweetheart."

"Because everything you touch or make turns out to be beautiful. I'm always curious what you have for me, Bela." You look at her with a shy smile. After admiring the spectacular view, you make your way to the art room. As you reach the door, she pushes it open and gestured for you to step inside. The room is dimly lit by a few hanging lamps, giving the room a cozy, intimate atmosphere.

She leads you further into the room, towards a large canvas that stands in the center, hidden by a cloth. Bela glances at you, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"You ready, sweetheart?" she asks, her hands on the cloth, ready to reveal the painting. You nod slightly, a mix of curiosity and anticipation on your face. You also can't let go of the given nickname.

"Alright," She murmurs, taking a deep breath, "Here we go, sweetheart..."

she pulls the cloth away with a grand flourish, revealing the painting to you... of you. She made a portrait of you. It captures every detail of your face, from your delicate features to the way your hair falls across your shoulders. The paint depicts you in an artistic, almost ethereal way, the light from the lamps in the room casting a warm glow across the canvas.

She stands back behind you, watching your reaction carefully, waiting to see your response. Your eyes widen as you take in the image on the canvas. You almost don't recognize yourself at first, the way she captured every bit of your features surprised you.

Bela remains silent, standing quietly behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You both can feel the tension between you grow as you examine the painting, your eyes tracing every brush stroke, every detail, every small part of the image that depicts you...

"Well?" She murmurs in your ears after a few moments, unable to hold herself back any longer. "What do you think, sweetheart?" Her voice is soft, a hint of flirt in her voice. She's desperate to hear what you think of the painting. Did she capture your beauty? Did she do justice to your likeness? She looks at your face, searching for any reaction, any sign of what's going through your mind.

"This is... amazing Bela, wow!" You're left speechless. Instead of saying something you turn around and hug Bela tightly."

"Oh you sweet little thing, I'm glad you like it." As she was petting your hair, she pressed her face against your neck. She pulled away from the hug. slightly leaning to your face. "I'm so glad you like your very own potrait, sweetheart." She repeated caressing your cheek. She leaned closer to you, pressing her lips to yours. You slowly kiss her back giving into her kiss and touch. You pull away and look into her eyes, touching her face.

"I think i can say it now, I've liked you for a while now." You say smiling, with a flustered face.

"Oh you sweet thing, you could've confessed sooner."

[darksigns-exe]

here are some autumn-flavoured nicky thoughts <3

warnings: none, just soft cosy feelings

There’s a noticeable chill in the air when you wake up. The soft wind that billows into the room through the partially open window carries that autumn scent with it, formally announcing the beginning of your favourite time of year. 

Next to you, Nick shifts under the covers, burrowing himself deeper into their warm comfort. The little noise he makes tells you that he’s no longer sleeping, but by no means ready to be awake yet. He looks so pretty like this, all soft and rested. The skin of his cheeks is creased from where it was pressed against a fold in his pillow all night, and you can’t help but reach out to trace your fingers across it. His face wrinkles up adorably when you brush your fingers against his cheek. Nick grumbles out a little sound, shifting and turning until he settles on his side, facing you. His eyes remain closed for a moment longer before he reluctantly opens them. Without saying a word, he lifts his arm, allowing you to scoot closer into his space. 

There’s nothing on the agenda today, you’re free to stay here for as long as you want. And with your face buried against his chest you can’t really imagine yourself out and about. Your lips find his skin so easily. Nicks arms tighten around you, pulling you just a little bit closer against him. You’re so warm and comfortable – how could you possibly want to get up. 

Nick presses a kiss to the top of your head, before he rests his chin there. You love these slow mornings. The ones where absolutely nothing has to be done, and you can just enjoy your boyfriends' presence. Your days together are always numbered, there’s always another tour on the horizon. 

You spent a little more time cuddled up together, making quiet conversation before the need for breakfast overwhelms both of you. 

Nick suggests that you should go for a little walk, enjoy the nice weather and all that. Knowing him, you know that you’ll find your way to the just opened pumpkin patch. Expecting that, you’ve set up the slow cooker so that you’ll have something nice and warming to eat when you come back home. 

A little while later, you find yourself wandering around the little market stalls that line the area in front of the actual pumpkin patch. You’ve already brought a plethora of new scented candles, soap and hand-made bath bombs. 

The wind had picked up over the course of your little trip. Before you had left the house, you had told Nick to remember his scarf, which he had promptly ignored. You watch him shiver for a moment longer, before you tell him that you want to check out one of the other stalls while he waits in line at the one operated by a local bakery. While you had been browsing you’d spotted a booth with the cosiest looking wool scarves. Just the right thing for your Nicky. The one you settle on has a purple marbling throughout its black fabric. Once it’s paid for you make your way back to where Nick is just wrapping up his purchase. He notices you before you have the chance to be sneaky about it. 

“You looked a little chilly.” you explain as you wrap the scarf around his neck, tucking the ends into his jacket, “Can’t have my boy be cold.” 

Nick looks at you for a long moment, soft adoration playing across his features. He thanks you with the sweetest kiss. 

You make your way back home not long after that. The chill of the autumn air has properly settled into your bones by the time you step inside your shared home again. You’re welcomed by the warming smell of the soup you had started earlier and before long you find yourselves in your living room, sharing steaming bowls. 

You stay where you are for the rest of the evening, curled up under the soft blanket his mother had gifted you when you had first moved into this place. Once more, Labyrinth flickers across the TV screen, and you only pay very little attention to it. With Nick settled against your body, you can’t bring yourself to give your attention to anything else. Nick sighs heavily, relaxing even more against you. 

You think that you could spend the rest of your days like this, just you, your boy and the cats, all comfy and cosy without a thing to worry about.

[loadinghellsing]

you've said before that you see Alucard/Anderson's dynamic differently in each version of hellsing? I was curious if you'd share how you see them?

Yeah sure, why not!!!

HELLSING ULTIMATE - I really only ship Andercard in Hellsing Ultimate... because, well... more reasons then I can functionally phrase. They're the same person, they're each other's other half, they're soulmates, ext.

the parallels, the symbolism, the acknowledgment, the respect, the care- *chef's kiss* there is simply so much to their dynamic that I can get lost in it for days. Correction- years.

---

HELLSING GONZO - They hate eachother. With a passion. The amount of superiority complex they bark at eachother. And how upset the get when they lose?

Yeah, there's nothing to structure fondness off spare having a challenge that feeds their own ego. (Additional Note: out of all versions of hellsing, this is the only one Anderson feels straight in.)

---

HELLSING ABRIDGED - Bromance. Best bromance to ever bromance. Just two silly near 7ft goblins getting into chaos and raising hell "just because". Companion ship in shenanigans. Partners in crime, via being the other's crime. Integra and Maxwell shall never know peace again.

However, Andercard ship wise, they give me the vibe of this post;