#ironically she's the unknowable one

[ghostingfee]

What does it say about me that my favorite Shakespeare character is undoubtedly Ophelia

[lovelykhaleesiii]

hi, other half, I've came to beg you to write some smutty thing for me. You once posted sth about riding Aegon's belly and yOU BITCH, I HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO STOP THINKING ABOUT IT SINCE THEN. So I'm begging you, queen of chubby!aegon, to write something about getting off on Aegon's fat belly (and u know the details, i know u do bc we share the same mind).

i love u, please and thank u🤍🥺

I LOVE YOU! and whoopsie, I can't help it if my thotty thots overtake your mind <3 lord have mercy, I really took my time with this one boo, like I actually lost myself AHAHA you know what they say, great minds think alike :))) hope you enjoy lovely x

Satisfied, Yet?

PAIRING: chubby!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader.

WORDS: 2,464.

WARNINGS: NSFW, slight mention of fatphobic comment, thigh/stomach riding, p in v sex, swearing.

Since being anointed as King, Aegon's life had altered drastically. Most of these changes not only seeped into his political stance in the realm, or in his dutiful role of upholding social responsibilities, although in his physicality, too. Since, having been betrothed to Aegon from his long, before days as Prince till now, you'd been front row and center to all these unfolding changes...

Nonetheless, at the very least you were quite absorbed in all the theatrics, particularly relishing in your husband's growing figure.

Aegon had always been an envoy to gluttony since his youth, his habits had only recently begun to swell from a boy's meager appetite into a man's. Since his coronation, Aegon, with you loyally by his side, had been invited and exposed to plentiful feasts, tourneys, banquets and celebrations in honor of his succession, with copious amounts of succulent roasts, pastries, sweets, treats and wine, that could fulfillingly feed the entire realm thrice. It was inevitable that such a habit of glutton would overtake…

Although you modestly dined in moderation, Aegon often found himself feasting, ravishing through the delectable flavours each region of the realm had to offer to their newly appointed King, eagerly hoping to appease his Grace.  As time went on, you found that his table manners had become wilted, as he’d often lost focus, disengaging in conversations, too enraptured by gorging himself on the delicacies offered to him by his meek subjects. You’d even occasionally witness him satisfyingly licking the tasteful grease off of his now thick, pudgy fingers, savoring the sacred moment, as his other free hand massaged his full, distended belly. 

In doing so, and unknowing to Aegon’s own naked eye, his appetite grew just as rapid as his waistline. His grandsire, the Hand, Otto Hightower, often eyed the King with disgust although, so long as Aegon showed up to such meaningful events, he did not protest. Nor did the Dowager Queen, Alicent, for she grew weary and apprehensive to provoke Aegon, now that he was King. Thus, no one dared to fuss. 

If you were being frank with yourself, you intently observed Aegon’s newly found habits, not in a parallel way to his grandsire, although with lust. Aegon’s appetite was what you’d believed, fit for a King. The repercussions of this, you reaped bashfully, as you gradually watched your beloved husband's figure swell. He maintained muscle, through occasional combat training and flights with Sunfyre, although now a visible layer of fat had grown all over, padding the muscle beneath. His legs, once modestly average sized, had now grown to be as thick as tree trunks, along with his bulky biceps and forearms to match. Although the centerpiece of attraction was his abdominal region, now protruding over his hidden waistline, the soft flesh hung, resting over his stocky thighs whenever you found him lounging. 

Gods be good, was it a mission to remain incessantly composed for hours when you were present to spoil your longing eyes upon your dear husband sprawled comfortably upon the Iron Throne… He’d grown into the seat, the fat of his thighs digging into the edge, subtly hanging over its edge, as he just managed to fit in. The image was stupendously ingrained into your brain, and the only thoughts that you could muster were sinful. 

Nonetheless, Aegon remained oblivious to the venereal effect his appearance was having on you…

****

“Fuck-” Aegon frusturatingly huffed.

“What is it, my love?” You concerningly question. Slowly closing the pages of your novel that rested against your lap, as you turned to face your husband, you had been greeted with an exasperated Aegon, his plump cheeks reddened from all the bustling noises you’d mindlessly heard in the background whilst reading. 

“It seems I am in need of a new fitting. I have been struggling to button these trousers on, dearest, not to mention how uncomfortably tight they now feel,” Aegon sulkingly protested. You carefully watched on, as you witnessed Aegon curiously pondering over his reflection in the mirror of your shared compartment. The pantaloons he’d been whining about, he’d just managed to dress, although remained loose and unsecured where it should have been buttoned and fitted. Instead, his portly belly hung low, his flesh engulfing over the opening and seams of the pants. 

“Be honest before the Gods dearest, have I grown?” Aegon uttered, as he turned to face you sharply, his hands gliding over his swollen belly, as the one squeezed the mold of fat over where his ribs lay protected beneath.

“I-uh, I do not know what you mean, dearest. Y-You look fine,” You meekly respond, unable to maintain direct eye contact, once Aegon was done sizing himself down, returning his gaze unto you. A stern look had brewed across his face, as you lowered your head to the book on your lap, fiddling with its torn edges.

“Do not toy with me, Y/N. Be honest, at the very least, I command that you speak the truth before your King. Have I grown…fat?” A distaste apparent in his stern voice, Aegon looked upon you with fretful eyes. 

Your reluctant gaze had softened with adoration. You did not wish for Aegon to feel even the slightest tinge of shame for his change, nor did you want him to think it possible, that you were revolted by the very sight of your husband.

“Y-You may have grown somewhat in size, but Aeg, that does not mean I love you any less. No lesser, than the day my maiden eyes had laid upon you.” 

Although you spoke warmly of the truth, Aegon refused to believe. Disapprovingly shaking his head in protest, he tore his attention away from you, avoiding eye contact as his glistening, lilac eyes had now wandered to the ground beneath his feet. His hands nervously gliding up and down the sides of his thick thighs, as he slowly seated himself down over the edge of the bed, an audible creak of the wooden frame fracturing the silence. 

“People must look upon us, and feel pity unto you, my wife. For look at the ‘hog’ she has now binded herself to-”

“Aegon, please-” You firmly interjected, racing over towards your husband, as you gracefully knelt before him, your hands now appearing tiny, sprawled against his large thighs, gripping the flesh for stability. 

“Aeg, look at me-” Your hand reached over, tugging at his fatty chin to redirect his attention solely onto you. 

“They-” Your fleeting eyes darting towards the shut door and back towards him, indicating to the world beyond.

“-should not matter. I would never say such vile things, nor could I ever think of you like that.” 

Aegon remained chillingly quiet, although you’d faintly glimpsed a sudden glint in his eyes, as his fixed attention lingered over your soft lips. 

“Prove it.” 

His sudden words took a solid few seconds to register in your mind, before you’d fathomed its meaning. Prove so, how? 

You knew exactly what was required of you. Your readiness for this moment had been stirring amid the quiet moments against the bustle and haste, of the banquets and festivities you’d both attended, that you often found yourself reservedly pondering in your own lustful thoughts, envisioning many things… 

“Sit properly on the bed,” You boldly uttered, as you stood yourself up, pushing yourself up from Aegon’s knees, leaning yourself ever so slightly forward that the evident cleavage in your tightly fitted gown were brazenly displayed to Aegon, as you stood swiftly. It made you innocently chuckle seeing Aegon smacking his juicy lips in response, as he strugglingly shuffled himself atop the bed, right towards the center of the wooden headboard. His large, rough hands steadily rubbed against the tight fabric of his thighs in anticipation for what was to come, as he intently observed you from afar. 

Both your undivided attention remained mutually onto each other: a faint, tender smile appearing on your face, as you noticed the hunger in Aegon’s eyes [mildly similar to how he gushed over the plated feasts], a smirk beaming across his face. 

Slowly walking over towards him, you’d managed to hike the front of your dress up sensually, before crawling atop the bed, only to find yourself straddling your beloved husband. Your legs had been stretched out broadly, accommodating for his wider frame, as his stomach pushed against the sensitive region of your lower abdomen and entrance. Gods, did his thighs feel so tender and soft beneath your ass, as you comfortably lowered yourself down, readjusting your position. Your arms instinctively stretch over towards his neck line, as your fingers begin to tangle and pull on the platinum, short strands from behind. 

It seemed the warm, tense friction of your body against Aegon’s was already beginning to stir the new King, pleasantly.

Closing in the distance between your faces, as your moist lips teasingly hovered over his plump ones. 

“You want me to prove it, baby… So be it,” You softly whispered, the warmth of your breath Aegon had inhaled, unable to remain patient, the young King pushed his mouth against yours, his tongue shoving its way through in exchange for a long, passionate kiss. Somehow, his pudgy hands had managed to find their way towards your backside, roughly squeezing the flesh of each cheek, you were certain his fingerprints would remain evident. 

Almost in tune to a rhythm, you began to pace yourself in a loop, slowly rocking forwards and back against the thin fabric of Aegon’s strained pants, your body shoving in deeper towards his distended belly, before leaning back to give him some momentary relief. 

“Mhmm,” Aegon lowly moaned, as one hand remained glued to your tender ass cheek, whilst the other snaked its way firmly behind your back, his rough hand gripping your neck, his thick fingers entangled in your hair, as he massaged the base of your head. 

“You have no idea what you’ve done to me, seeing you become this-” You breathlessly whimpered, as you tore apart your lips from his to speak. 

Aegon sensed the sincerity in your tone, and the soft, pleasing look in your eyes, as you ached for him. You could’ve sworn he could physically feel the throbbing sensation pulsating from your moist cunt, against the soft flesh of his full gut. 

“And what is it that I have done? What is it that you wish to do to me, my sweet, sweet angel?” 

Your pace had subtly quicked, briefly feeling Aegon trying to align your cunt to his cock, he undoubtedly was not expecting your next move. 

Insisting Aegon to recline himself further back into a semi-fowler position, the plentiful, fluffed cushions supporting his heavy mass in conjunction to the solid headboard hidden beneath. You swiftly shuffled yourself further up his body, thrusting yourself forward with enough momentum that you now sat atop, straddling his doughy, bloated stomach beneath. Your hands now gripping dearly onto his broad, dense shoulders, nails digging into the cloth-like fabric of his white shirt, as you further continued to thrust against him, riding his flesh beneath deeply and vigorously. 

“Fuck, Y/N-” He growled, as his grip remained strained onto your hips, as they rhythmically bucked forwards and back, desperately riding in deeper into his mass. 

“See-uh-See, what you’ve done to me, this, all of this-” You squeeze a little more into the flesh of his skin, pulling at the fat that embodied your husband, signifying his tremendous growth. Your moistened cunt began to coat his pale, soft skin stripped with reddened marks and stripes all along his sides and below, with your sweetness, as his shirt hiked up against your movements. 

“L-Look, my King, look at exactly what you’ve done to m-me-” You bashfully utter, as your spine instinctively arches, the collision and smacking of your skin against his continued to be heard in such close proximity, only muffled by either of your mindless moans and grunts. Nestled between your lower cunt and backside, you could feel something poking through, Aegon’s thick cock beginning to swell, feeling its pulsating urge beneath the strained fabric, the incessant need to shove itself inside of you grew with each movement. 

“Hmmf-” Aegon’s heavy, volatile breathing grew rapidly: as he ate himself to swell, his efforts became strained, often catching him huffing and puffing after hiking up a dense flight of stairs. 

“Come on, Aegon- I-I’m so close already-” You stutteringly whimper, sensual moans mindlessly interrupting your words. Now your wetness began to lubricate his succulent, fleshy skin entirely, as your cum pooled beneath, making your movements easier, gliding over his portly stomach. Where his lean pecs had once been, now a thick layer of adipose mounted over: one hand remained gripped to his shoulder, desperate for the stable support, whilst the other firmly cupped and squeezed at his enlarged, swollen pec. The roughness of your touch against the sensitive site, scored a loud plea for your name from his lips, that momentarily left your lifted breasts, before resuming to suckle on your soft skin. 

“Prove me wrong, baby. Prove me so fucking wrong-” Aegon groaned and moaned desperately, his grip remained firm as he tried desperately to shove you down deeper into his body. 

Instantly, you felt your pulsating cunt drench his swollen, soft belly as you pleasantly cried out, moaning Aegon’s name like a banshee in the night. His cock beneath you twitched in response, some moistness had brewed and seeped beneath its place, for it seemed Aegon was just as close to pumping, making a mess of himself. Although, as surprisingly swift as he could be for his size, Aegon thoroughly knew his way around your body, despite the changes to his own. His pants already undone from before, he could easily lift you up momentarily, pulling it down further enough for his bare cock to protrude through, aggressively shoving himself into you as you now remained atop. His thick cum coating your inner walls, as his veiny, fat cock grazed over your sweet spot, whilst your walls clenched on his thick cock. 

“Fuck, baby-” He subtly mouthed,  as he prompted himself further up, although his belly innately blocking his way, as he tried to lean over towards your own feeble body. The pace of your breathing now in sync with his, as your heated bodies lunged over towards one another for support, he held your weak self in his bulky arms, Aegon’s dense cock still remained inside of you, its strong pulse echoing from within your walls. 

“Satisfied, yet?” You helplessly pant, as you reluctantly pull yourself out of Aegon, repositioning yourself laying, nestled by his side. 

“I guess I should hold back on training for a little while longer, I wouldn't want to lose this figure, if that’s what I’ll be expecting, dear wife.”

[perfectsunlight]

(𝟔𝟖) - 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: none

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬: 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮

minjeong had always been scared of the dark.

ever since she was a child, the absence of light would send shivers down her spine and fill her mind with wild imaginations of lurking monsters and unseen dangers. 

she always kept a small nightlight by her bed, which emitted a soft, warm glow to ease her anxiety during the night. she also tried to distract herself by reading books or watching light-hearted shows before bedtime. however, on some nights, the fear was just too overwhelming.

it was ironic. for someone who was the stillness of night personified, she was terrified of it.

the young girl curled into her blanket as you slept beside her, unknowing of the state of turmoil she was in. you had come over for a sleepover, and your best friend felt embarrassed of her nightlight. as a result, she decided to leave it off for your arrival.

as the night settled in, minjeong's anxiety began to build. she tried to act as if everything was fine, attempting to keep her fear hidden from you. but you could sense that something was amiss. 

you knew her well enough to recognize the signs of her distress.

"hey," you said gently, breaking the silence that had fallen between you. "is everything okay?"

she hesitated for a moment, then finally admitted, "i'm just a bit scared of the dark. it's silly, i know."

you smiled reassuringly. "it's not silly at all. we all have our fears."

minjeong's eyes softened as she appreciated your understanding. she mustered the courage to turn on her bedside lamp but kept it dim. the soft glow created a small haven in the darkness.

the hues of yellow flickered in front of your faces as both of you sat up against the headboard. the room around you seemed to transform with the gentle illumination of the bedside lamp. shadows danced on the walls, creating whimsical shapes that seemed to mimic the creatures of minjeong's fearful imagination. yet, in the warm embrace of the soft light, those shapes lost their menacing edge and took on a playful charm.

as you sat there together, the ambiance was cozy and intimate. the gentle hum of the night outside seemed to draw you closer, like a secret shared between friends. minjeong's breathing slowed as she felt the comforting presence of a trusted companion beside her.

"do you remember that time we went stargazing?" you asked, trying to shift her focus away from her fears.

a smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she nodded. "yeah, that was a magical night. the sky was so clear, and we could see countless stars."

"it was," you agreed. "remember how we tried to find constellations, and we ended up creating our own imaginary ones?"

minjeong giggled softly, the sound like a delicate melody in the quiet room. "yeah. i do."

you noticed her becoming more relaxed and leaned back against the headboard, taking in the sight of your friend finding solace in the soft glow of the lamp. the way her eyes sparkled with a mix of emotions, the subtle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, and the way she absentmindedly played with the edge of her blanket—all these small details became etched in your memory.

“why aren’t you scared of the dark?” minjeong whispered, absentmindedly twirling the ends of her blanket in between her fingertips. 

you gave her a small ghost of a smile and scooted a little closer to her before replying. “remember when you called me the sun?”

the girl next to you nodded lightly, “yeah. what about it?” her irises intertwined with the shadows dancing across her face from the soft glow of her light.

“well,” your hands moved behind your head as you leaned against the headboard in a more relaxed position. “the sun is a star, too. right?”

“yeah. but what does that have to do with anything?” minjeong asked, brows furrowed in confusion still. she called you the sun for numerous reasons, but because you were a giant ball of flaming gas was not one of them.

without skipping a beat, you reached over and placed a hand on top of your best friend’s. your eyes met hers in the dark, and for a moment the darkness didn’t seem as scary anymore once she heard the words you said after.

“why would a star be afraid of the dark?”

—

minjeong's lava lamp, a prized possession in her dimly lit bedroom, cast mesmerizing ripples of blue and green across the walls, creating a soft ambiance. the gentle, undulating light seemed to dance across the ceiling in an organized pattern. her lithe form was ensconced against the comfort of her mattress, a sanctuary of solace amidst the storm of her thoughts. ning and aeri had been playing a game together in the living room, and behind her closed door she could hear the muffled debate going on about ningning apparently cheating at blackjack.

you came over to see jimin, and the two of you had stayed locked away in the leader’s room for god knows how long and doing god knows what. to be honest, the girl didn’t know what to do. 

she knew you knew everything. so what was she supposed to do now?

apologies were meaningless in this situation. kim minjeong could never atone for the sins of betrayal she had committed. you were someone she once considered a sister. what was she supposed to say to you now that she had destroyed everything?

she clutched a crumpled tissue, her fingers finding a source of tactile comfort as she stared at the ceiling, lost in the labyrinth of her regrets. 

unsaid apologies hung in the air, heavy and hollow, as meaningless echoes in the face of her transgressions. a simple "i'm sorry" could never mend the fractures she had inflicted upon bonds that were once unbreakable. 

she had been the architect of her own downfall, and the weight of her betrayal bore down on her like a crushing weight.

perhaps that was her fate now? to suffer? the thought gnawed at her conscience as she lay there, mind a chaotic whirlwind of guilt and self-condemnation. she couldn't escape the gravity of her actions, the pain she had caused, and the trust she had shattered.

you. jimin. everyone. 

had she ruined everything for good? you and jimin ended up together in the end, so was anything really even worth it from the beginning?

perhaps that was your fate? to be with yu jimin–to always be with yu jimin.

as the sounds outside of her room dwindled, minjeong's internal struggle intensified. she knew she couldn't hide forever. sooner or later, she would have to face the consequences of her choices, even if it meant confronting you, the person she had wronged the most.

hours seemed to pass in that dimly lit room, the lava lamp casting its soothing yet eerie glow, mirroring the dichotomy of minjeong's emotions. it wasn't just about apologies anymore; it was about finding a way to rebuild what she had destroyed, if that was even possible.

or at the very least, salvage what is left of the damage she had made.

she didn’t know how long she had been laying there for, but all she did know was that it was already 4 in the morning.

with a heavy sigh, minjeong finally pushed herself up from the mattress, her movements slow and deliberate. she wiped her nose with her sleeve as she stood and walked over to her door.

with cautious steps, minjeong tiptoed out of her room, the plush carpet absorbing the sound of her movement. it was usually this quiet at this hour in the aespa dorm.

as she entered the kitchen, the cool tiles sent a shiver up her spine, contrasting with the warmth of her thoughts. she filled the glass with water from the tap, the gentle flow creating a soft ambiance that seemed out of place in the weighty atmosphere.

leaning against the counter, minjeong took a sip of the water, the cool liquid momentarily soothing her parched throat. her eyes wandered around the kitchen, taking in the familiar surroundings—the neatly organized cabinets, the subtle gleam of stainless steel appliances, the faint aroma of the lemon scented cleaning product ningning definitely used a little too much of.

her gaze fell upon the clock on the wall. the digital numbers displayed the relentless passage of time: 4:15 am. it was a reminder of how much had transpired during the night, and how much was left to unravel.

minjeong's mind swirled with conflicted emotions, the turmoil refusing to subside. she knew that facing you was inevitable, and she also knew that it was the right thing to do. 

what she didn’t know was how soon it was going to be.

“oh. you’re awake.”

minjeong’s head slowly turned as she faced the sound of your hushed voice. there you were, hair down and in jimin’s clothes. and if she wasn’t mistaken, there was definitely something on your neck, but maybe she was seeing things in the dim light.

you gave the other girl a tight lipped smile before you spoke again. “i just came to get some water. don’t mind me.”

minjeong's heart raced as her gaze locked onto you, the flood of emotions intensifying in the presence of the person she had wronged so deeply. the silence hung in the air, heavy with unspoken words and lingering tension.

you filled your own glass with water, the soft gurgle of the tap creating a momentary distraction from the charged atmosphere. your fingers wrapped around the glass, and you leaned against the counter, facing minjeong. the faint glow of the kitchen light painted your features with a mix of shadows and highlights, emphasizing the complexity of the situation.

minjeong found herself at a loss for words, her mind racing to find something, anything to break the silence. but what could she say? how could she begin to address the betrayal that had fractured your relationship?

"i'm sorry," the words escaped minjeong's lips before she could stop them, her voice barely above a whisper. it was a feeble attempt, a mere fraction of the remorse she felt, but it was a start.

your eyes held hers, and for a moment, minjeong thought she saw a flicker of something in your expression—perhaps surprise, or maybe a hint of vulnerability. but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a guarded mask that you wore so well.

you took a sip of water, your gaze leaving minjeong's to look at the soft glow of the light from her room. “are you still scared of the dark?” you whispered softly.

minjeong's heart skipped a beat at your question. it wasn't the response she had expected, and it caught her off guard. she took a moment to collect herself before replying, her voice barely audible.

"yeah," she admitted, her fingers nervously tracing the rim of her glass. "i guess some things never really change."

there was a pause, the silence in the room heavy with unspoken emotions. the weight of the past hung in the air, a feeling of deja vu as the two of you bathed in the moonlight from the kitchen window.

"not you though," she said, her voice carrying a mix of vulnerability and a subtle firmness. minjeong didn’t know what to say, but she needed to start somewhere. “you never changed.”

a half smile was all you could give her before you lowered your gaze to your own glass. “you did though.” 

your words hung in the air, heavy with implication. minjeong felt a pang in her chest, a mixture of guilt and regret swirling within her. she looked down at her hands, her fingers tracing the condensation on the glass of water. how could she explain the choices she had made, the path she had walked down that led her to this point?

"i know," she whispered, her voice barely audible. the aespa member gently tapped her fingers against the glass in her hands. 

a beat of silence passed before it was broken by you.

“i loved you before i loved jimin, minjeong.”

tears welled up in minjeong's eyes as the weight of your words hit her full force. she knew the truth in what you were saying. you weren’t talking about romantic feelings. you were not talking about some crush or any of that sort.

you were telling her that you were someone she considered a soulmate. and right now, kim minjeong did not feel worthy of such a title.

"i didn’t know," minjeong's voice was low, her fingers gripping the glass tighter. “i didn’t know that.”

you leaned against the counter, your gaze still fixed on her. the idol’s hair covered her face as she looked down, and for a moment you realized you had never seen her this upset. the only other time you’d seen her even close to being like this was when a certain choreographer chewed her out for messing up during a monthly evaluation.

“i don’t hate you.” the softness of your voice reached her ears and the other girl felt her heart stop beating for a few moments. minjeong thought she was hallucinating for a moment before you continued. “i don’t think we can fix things, sure. but i don’t hate you.”

the weight of your words seemed to echo in the room, a somber reminder of the deep connection that once existed between you and minjeong. as she gripped the glass tightly, her fingers trembling, you could sense the turmoil within her—the struggle of staring at you.

the struggle of staring into the sun.

minjeong was supposed to live in the darkness of her mistakes. she would always be the moon, always finding herself amongst the other darker parts of herself. the only light she would ever receive would be from the stars around her. 

you were always going to be the brightest star in the sky. and minjoeng would always be the lower planet only seen in the absence of light.

the aespa member stayed like that, staring at the floor in front of her for more than a few minutes. you finished your glass of water at that time and moved to put it in the sink gently. what was the other girl supposed to say to that?

did she want you to hate her? you should hate her, if she was you, she’d definitely hate herself forever.

but you weren’t minjeong. and minjeong wasn’t you.

just as you were about to cross the threshold into the hallway, minjeong's voice pierced the air, stopping you in your tracks. her words hung heavy, the raw desperation in her tone cutting through the quiet like a blade. the jagged rise and fall of her chest was a visible manifestation of her inner turmoil, her grip on the glass and the counter a testament to her emotional anchor.

your head turned slightly, and your eyes met the floor beneath her feet. the tension in the room was palpable, an invisible thread connecting you even as you stood on opposite ends of the kitchen. the air seemed charged, the weight of unspoken words and unaddressed emotions hanging heavily between you.

"why don’t you hate me?" minjeong's voice trembled, the words a plea tinged with confusion. she needed to understand, to grasp the reason behind your reluctance to give in to anger and resentment. her gaze remained fixed on the floor, as if avoiding eye contact could shield her from the weight of her own actions.

in response, you exhaled softly, the sound a mix of resignation and understanding. your voice was a whisper, a fragile thread woven with a profound truth that echoed through the quiet space. 

"i can't hate one of my own."

the words lingered in the air, carrying a depth of emotion that transcended the conversation. you weren't just talking about friendship, but something deeper. and even in the midst of betrayal, the love still remained, battered and bruised but not gone.

the love you had for your once best friend would never be gone. not now, or ever.

with one last glance over your shoulder, your form disappearing down the hallway, the room was once again engulfed in silence. minjeong's tears, held back for so long, finally spilled over, the glass in her hand trembling as her eyes squeezed shut. in that moment, the weight of her actions, the consequences of her choices, crashed down upon her with an intensity that left her reeling.

it was a truth that had been spoken before, one that held significance then and now. the pieces of the puzzle began to fit together, and minjeong understood, perhaps for the first time, the depth of your words.

and as she stood there, the echoes of your footsteps fading into the distance, a new sense of clarity emerged. it was a clarity that transcended the pain and the regrets, revealing a truth that had always been present, obscured only by the turbulence of the situation.

for minjeong wasn't meant to be the moon, a distant and unattainable entity. as a matter of fact, she never was the moon.

minjeong was a star, just like you.

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ ┊ ☪︎⋆ ⊹ ┊ . ˚ ✧

you and jimin met as trainees before she debuted, and you two never felt more in love. however, once she breaks up with you before her debut, you completely leave SM entertainment under the notion of needing a fresh start. you eventually debuted a few years later in le sserafim, where you met huh yunjin and have slowly started developing feelings for the idol. much to karina's dismay, she hates to see you have moved on, but deep in your own heart, you still can't help but feel as if maybe she has forgotten about you.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @captivq , @wonyoluvr , @yunalvrrr , @spritin , @babycubchae , @vnschldd , @sserafimez , @chaersly , @rosiehrs , @baldd , @bwljules , @jenaissantesworld , @jennasluma , @dream-chasers-things , @lcv3lies , @elyds , @archerheejin , @vnschldd , @skisk1 , @cfvgbhndun-new-blog , @silantryoo , @phamminji , @bzeus28 , @writingficsblog , @strangegirlcode , @uzumakioden , @noiacha , @sserabey , @archerheejin , @pindoris , @yourstrulytrissmerigold , @jisooftme , @yacii , @ddrummie , @justalittledissociation

[ 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 ]

[sorrowsofsilence]

Burning Out • Teaser

I was lost, but now I'm found Under the lights and in the sounds So let us sing and sing it loud That we're not perfect, but we're proud of who we are

Noah Sebastian is lost. His crime-filled lifestyle is anything but perfect; but everything changes once he meets you.

Noah Sebastian x Fem!Reader

General Warnings: explicit content, smut 18+, mentions of drugs, alcohol, murder, other forms of crime, violence.

Authors note: hiiii. This story was requested by an anon a while back and I have decided to try and give it a shot (Prompt given was: Noah and the boys have a tough life and steal to make it by, and live in a motel room together. Meets reader and ends up breaking into her house unknowing.) I hope this vibes with what you wanted! <3 I have no idea how many chapters this will be, im just kinda gonna go with the flow!

Here’s the beginning of the chapter, just to see if anyone’s interested :3

NOAH

The world was always in a state of grey, the life of the concrete jungle persistently sucking out the souls of its inhabitants with every passing second. Destruction. Crime. Greed. A shattering abyss of capitalism and corruption.

Yet, within this life time, I don’t think I was meant to be the good guy either.

Perhaps there was a chance for me, someday or somehow within another universe.

For now, the only thing I could think about was how my heart pounded as the gun sat between my fingers, threatening the innocent ahead. Destruction, Crime, Greed.

“Noah, let’s go,” Ruffilo pulled at my wrist in desperation. My arm remained still, resisting against his force.

The woman’s eyes watched me in horror, tears brimming as her back hit the brick wall behind her, arms wrapping protectively around her body in defeat.

My heart rapidly raced, but I remained still.

“I won’t say anything I swear,” She pleaded, lips trembling, saliva foaming from her mouth as she was too afraid to swallow.

I don’t want to do this, but I fucked up.

“Noah,” Ruffilo said through gritted teeth, “We need to go,” he placed a hand on top of my gloved one, in another attempt to have me lower the bad decision.

I closed my eyes, squeezing them shut in contemplation as my chest heaved, the voice of rationality fighting against the voice of destruction.

I’ll be even more of a fuck up if she rats on us.

You’ve never been able to kill anyone before you moron, why do you think this time will be any different?

My eyes snapped open, leatherd finger dancing along the trigger as I stared at her. My teeth barred through chapped lips, a snarl of frustration crawling from my throat. The woman's eyes turned away in fear as if watching her own demise would kill her. Ironic.

Seeing her in complete terror left me broken. Is who I am? I am nothing more.

The next thirty seconds passed as though I was walking through molasses, my thoughts battling contradictions before I audibly screamed in frustration, shoving the gun back into my pocket as Nicholas and I ran towards the van.

“Fuck!” I yelled, slamming the car door a forceful as possible. The tires squealed in place, burning out as Jolly’s foot pounded onto the gas pedal.

I ripped off my ski mask, throwing it angrily onto the floor of the vehicle.

“You should’ve just left her Noah. Now if they find us we could be charged with assault with a weapon.” The deep Swedish accent was the last thing I wanted to hear. He eyed me sternly in the rear view mirror. I lingered on his gaze for a moment before turning my head towards the window.

“Oh Fuck off Jolly,” I sighed angrily, closing my eyes as my breathing quickened, the anxiety beginning to set in. The pounding of my heart began to vibrate along my entire chest, and my leg bounced in anticipation, waiting for the panic to subside.

I kept justifying to myself that we’re all dead anyway, so what’s the difference between a God and a loaded gun?

+++++

I'll leave the prompt given below. Chapter one will be out later tn <3

“BUT what about a Noah fic where him and the boys grew up with a hard life, but they always stuck together. Growing up they got into a lot of trouble, and they are still struggling. So they all live in a little motel room together. Then one day Noah runs into reader, and she’s new to LA and she also grew up with a bad background but she got away from it and worked her ass off to get a nice little house in LA. So they talk for a bit and get along with each other, they swap numbers and stuff. Then one night it’s noah get money for him and the boys. So he decides to break into a house and just steal some stuff so he can sell it for money. BUT he ends up breaking into readers house by accident, and she catches him. She hurt and scared at first, but then she starts kind of sympathizing for him. He is apologizing profusely to her telling her he didn’t know it was her house, and basically they have a conversation about Noah’s life with the boys, and why he does what he does. And basically they end up falling for each other, and after a while reader realizes how lonely she is living in her house alone in LA with no friends. So she tells noah that him and the boys should move in with her, and she would help them find jobs and stuff. Eventually they agree, and then after they move in she notices how much they love music and that the two nicks both have old acoustic guitars that they occasionally play while Noah songs along. She works at a bar and then ends up getting them a gig at her work, and then after they play there a few times they start blowing up on the internet and getting popular, then eventually they get huge and go on tour. When they become famous they all convince reader to go on tour with them so they can start taking care of her like she did them when they needed it the most.”

[romanestuffsposts]

hiii was wondering could you do a stucky and little reader where they take her to the stark tower for the first time and introduce you to the team and other littles?

Hi there love! 💜

Thank you so much for your lovely request! I'm so sorry you had to wait that long! ❤️

I hope you like it!

Enjoy <33

****

Warnings : cuteness, little reader is shy, pet names, fluff, meeting with unknow people, small talk

Pairings : Daddies!Stucky ; Daddy!Bucky x Papa!Steve x Little!Reader

Summary : new friends ? Maybe

****

Your Papa redresses your beautiful dress, a proud smile on his face as he looks up at you "are you ready ?" he asks excited.

Your Papa is sooo excited today because you will finally meet his friends! He can't be more proud and more happy to live that day with his family and his friends. Everything will be perfect.

You, you weren't so stressed out with that idea. In fact, your Daddies- more your Papa tho- can't stop talking about their wonderful friends and how you'll be so close to them one day. They just know you'll be friends with everyone because, who doesn't want to be friend with you ?? Seriously, you're just the best person ever so of course they'll love you. No doubts about that!

"Calm down Steve" Bucky laughs as he rests two hands on your shoulders "she'll be fine, she always is" he winks down at you. You blush and smile up at him. He gently kisses your forehead while your head is tilted toward him before knocking on the door.

He knows that if the faster they go inside and you meet everyone, the faster Steve will be relax and not so annoying, like your Daddy would says.

The door open and a man who is almost as tall as your Daddies came in your visual. His strict face breaks into a silly grin as he spots your Daddies "finally!" he explames, taking you by surprise "we've been waiting for hours" he playfully rolls his eyes

Your eyes widen at the thought of them being annoyed because they had to wait for you to arrive, just because your Daddy had to iron the dress because you didn't wanted to wear another one. It was this one!

You peer behind you at your Daddy with a worry expression as you walk inside and he gives you a reassuring smile and a nod of his head. You swallow your guilt and take in your surrender.

It's a lot bigger than... than... Well- than everything you've ever seen in your life! There are no words that leave your mouth as your eyes wonder everywhere. You hear chuckle behind you which make you turning around, if nobody would've take you away, you would still be looking around yourself with a drool leaving your tongue.

The man who opened the door kneels in front of you. He gives you a friendly smile "hi, my name is Tony. I'm so glad to finally meet you"

His words make you smile and you shyly play with your dress. "Baby, what do we do when someone is talking to us ?" your Papas asks.

You look up at him and he tilts his head "don't forget the respect we have for others, sweetie. What do we do when someone speak ?"

Answering

You look back at Tony "sank you. 'm happy t' see ya too"

He smiles more at your cuteness "can I give your cheek a kiss ?" You bite the inside of your lips and nod. Nobody except your Daddies and Alpine give you kisses.

He learns over and gives a gentle kiss on your cheek "why don't we go meet the others ?" he asks jumping on his knees "they're dying to see you" he whispers.

Your eyes light up at his words and you quickly nod your head. He stands up and proposes you his hand which you gladly take.

He would'nt have been upset or angry if you didn't took his hand, he would've understand, you two don't know each others so it's normal.

But he's still glad you took his hand with so much excitation and with any hesitations.

Your Daddies smile at each others before following you.

When you enter the next room, it's bigger than the first one. There's little stairs here and there, there's a bar and many little floors who are all connected to the main floor.

You can't take everything in your surrender but that the firsts things you noticed. You spot a group of people near the couches who are laughing together and you suddenly want to laugh with them. You love laughing.

You start walking faster than Tony which doesn't go unoticed by the three men around you.

"Ladies and gentlemen"

All of them turn toward the voice who come from Tony "here is our little star of the night" he points at you, his eyes following his finger. You clench at his hand when you see all their eyes turning to you" He squeezes your hand reassuringly but you don't move. Now you're scared to go to them.

They aren't laughing anymore, they are just looking at you, sweetly yes, but they're looking at you so it kinda stress you.

You feel your Daddy kneeling on the other side of your body, where Tony isn't and grabs your chin "you okay, babydoll ?" he asks, knowing what is happening.

He's surprise it didn't happened earlier to be honest.

You let go of Tony's hand and wraps your arms around your Daddy's neck, your face hiding in his neck when your face touch his flesh. He wraps his arms around you and lifts you up with a little groan.

The others start to stand up and your Papa turns your head so your cheek is against your Daddy's shoulder so your face is facing the others.

One by one, they come to you andpresent themself to you, they either shake your little hand, kiss it or ruffle your hair for others- thanks Scott and Sam.

You became less shy once your Daddy sat down on the couch and started talking with the others. There's a beautiful woman beside you with georgous red hair and the craziest thing is when you look beside her, there's another one! How crazy this world is ?!

She can feel you touching her hair and playing with it but she doesn't say anything to stop you. She kinda like it even tho she's not used to it and she's happy to see you comfortable around her.

She gives you winks and smiles whenever she crosses your gaze making you so happy. You have a friend!

"do you want some water, baby ?" your Papa asks. You nod. He's about to stand up when the lady beside you stand up first "i'll do it!" She doesn't let time at your Papa to answer her as she's already in the kitchen. You giggle at that.

The other red head lady slide closer to you now that the spot is empty and she smiles big at you "hii" she whispers excited. You giggle and smile at her "hi"

"i love your dress!" she whispers again and your smile brighten more. You look down at yourself with red cheeks before looking back up at her "sank you" you whisper "i love your hair"

"thank you so much!!"

"we're gonna be great friends i can feel it!" she squeals at you. You laugh along with her.

~

It's been a few hours now that you're here and you start to get more sleepy. Your chest is against your Daddy's chest as you fight with yourself for not falling asleep. You don't want to fall asleep because you don't want to disrespect them.

Your Daddies could feel how tired you were so they decide to get back home "baby" your Daddy whispers, carressing your back. You hum, your eyes still close "we're gonna go home s we can have a good sleep ?"

You nod your head and feel your Daddy standing up. You wrap yourself around him so you don't fall and you hear your Daddies's friends- your new friends- standing up too.

"you say goodbye, princess ?" Your Papa softly asks in your ear. You pull your head away from your Daddy and looks around you to see everyone looking at you. "bye bye" you say, with tiny eyes and a weak wave of your hand before hiding your face back in your Daddy's neck.

This one chuckle and apologies for you but you hear the others waving him off, saying it was perfectly fine which helped relaxing you more.

You fell asleep after you left the tower and just before entering the car. You opened an eye here and there but nothign too big to fully wake up. You could still feel things around you like when your Daddies carry you, tuck you to bed and cuddle you in a big a warm bed

[hs-is-loml]

Love Looks Good On You. (a.t)

CHAPTER TWO

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Velaryon!OC

Summary: viserra wakes up to her grandparents informing her about her father so called "death".

Warnings: mentions of parent death, so a little angst.

a/n: little filler but that's okay it's just that xavier thorpe has been preoccupying my mind lately...

all translations of high valyrian come from google! english translations are in parentheses!!

masterlist - series masterlist

Unknowing to Viserra, in the middle of the night Laenor slipped out of the iron grip that she held on him. He fled Driftmark with Ser Qarl as soon as the sun rose.

"Viserra, Darling, wake up," Rhaenys shook Viserra gently causing the girl to stir in her sleep. "My darling, please."

"Yes, grandmother?" Viserra yawned as she rubbed her eyes. Once her vision cleared she noticed both her grandparents sitting in front of her with looks of dread written across their faces. Viserra's mind was led back to her conversation with her father last night. "No."

"Viserra, it's about your father," Corlys started.

"No. No, not him. Anyone but him," tears started to fill Viserra's eyes.

"Honey, I'm so sorry," Rhaenys pulled the girl into her embrace.

Viserra whimpered out, "How?"

Though Laenor warned her about this last night, she questioned what if they did get to him. Would she ever see her father again? Only a matter of time could tell now, but what was she supposed to do until then?

"He was found in the hall, charred in the fireplace," Corlys muttered as he wrapped his arms around his wife and granddaughter's sobbing figures.

"They did this," Viserra cried. "They killed him."

Corlys tried to reason with her, "Viserra, no one could have possibly known."

"No. They did this for their own selfish reasons because I was named heir. They mean to kill me next."

"We would never let anything happen to you," Rhaenys shushed her. "Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Viserra, come walk with me," Alicent said as she passed Viserra and Aegon in the corridor.

"Yes, Your Grace," Viserra pecked a now sad-looking Aegon on the cheek and promised him to catch up after the walk.

"I heard about your father. You have my deepest condolences, I could never imagine such loss at your age," Alicent spoke out as they both walked out on the shore near to the water. Viserra felt that her words weren't only about losing Laenor, but more about what happened with her mother.

"Thank you, Your Grace," Viserra responded.

"No more titles, Viserra. You are to marry my son soon it is only right if you call me Alicent," The Queen smiled warmly at her. "Now recalling to it, I never had the chance to properly thank you."

"What for?"

"For what you did for Aemond. He told me how you rushed to try and save him. You were not even involved in their petty arguments, but you still went to defend Aemond. Even getting hurt in the process, that is something I will never be able to repay you for," Alicent admitted to Viserra.

"But I failed?" Viserra questioned in regret believing if she was a second faster in her movements Aemond's eye could have been saved.

Alicent stopped in her tracks and pulled Viserra by her wrist into a hug. It had been so long to feel a motherly embrace that wasn't Rhaenys that Viserra practically melted in Alicent's arms.

"It does not matter whether you failed or not, my dear. It is the fact that was your first instinct of what to do. From the moment Aemond told me that, I knew I can always be able to trust you to do what is best for them," Alicent explained to her. "They are stubborn, my boys."

"I would do it all again if it meant your sons would be safe," Viserra claimed.

"Oh, my darling girl, you do not know how thankful I am for you being in their lives. Aegon absolutely loves you with his very being, and Aemond looks up to you," Alicent told her. "It was torture for Aegon when Rhaenyra moved your family to Dragonstone."

Viserra tensed in her arms after Alicent said the word family. She broke away from Alicent with a small smile.

"That boy is full of complaints," Viserra laughed. "The letters he would send me were just filled with him telling me how bored he was."

"Sounds like Aegon," Alicent breathed out a small laugh.

"Okay, we will visit you in a few moons, so do not grow up too much yet," Rhaenys smiled at Viserra tucking a loose piece of her hair behind her ear.

"We are always a raven away if you ever need us for anything," Corlys reminded Viserra as he pulled her into a hug. "I mean it, Viserra. Anything."

"Yes, Grandfather, I know," Viserra laughed.

"Corlys, quick smothering the girl or she might not even make it back to King's Landing at this rate," Rhaenys joked.

"Oh, hush, you two," Corlys shushed them.

"Be careful when you are riding Silverwing back, always be-" Rhaenys started.

"Loud and clear, I know," Viserra gave a small bittersweet smile remembering the way Laenor would always remind her about being loud and clear with her commands before riding Silverwing.

"I will never understand how you two do not get sick from flying that high in the air," Corlys gave a small shiver as he thought about dragon back.

"I will never understand how you are willing to wait that long on a ship to get to places," Viserra countered.

"Oh my-" Corlys sighed. "Viserra, you tell me if that Aegon boy is causing you any trouble alright?"

"Yes, of course," she replied. "That's only if I don't get to him first."

"That's my girl," Corlys smiled.

"Okay, be safe out there, and we love you," Rhaenys told the girl.

[roseamongroses]

nothing in the world belongs to me, but

Shuri/Riri Williams

[Major Character Death] [Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses] [Apocalypse] [Period Typical Attitudes] [Goddess!Shuri] [Astronomer!Riri] [Hero's Quest] [Rebirth]

Summary: Her. It was all for Her.

- SHURIRIWEEK2024 - day six - "song fic/ song inspo" - loosely inspired by My Love Mine All Mine

@shuririweek

ao3

----

Oh-- The Earth. It waned.

Dark clouds bore down on the countrymen below. Winds picked up, sharp against their skin--warning them of the storm to come.

Days prior, The Oracle warned The King of the devastation. A disaster brought forth not by man nor nature.

Under the Sea God’s might, entire nations would sink.

Was it for revenge? Indulgence? No one knew for certain why such a curse had befallen the lands. At least, that’s what The Crown had claimed. Tucked behind stone walls draped in ivory and gold. Lofty, safe from the encroaching beast below.

Troops were rallied. Songs of conquest and valor sang. Banners swung, legs marched on.

All clamoring forth into battle--all drowned.

A wrath like no other rising to swallow them whole.

Ships were sent and sank. Cargo barreled into the docks. Sailors dumped onto the rocks. Churches filled-- tithings offered with muddied, waif hands. Prayers went unanswered as the sea levels continued to rise.

No other God was willing to intervene.

Bodies piled up--The King was desperate. A draft was enforced despite the uproar from the people. Nobility scattered, abandoning the towering lights of the sea-side cities for the darkest crevices of the country-side. All who were left--the desperate, the needy, the ill-begotten souls of this cursed land would bear the folly of the crown and his noblemen.

Riri did not cry for her country's plight. She’s cried enough. For her mother she left behind, for her father, friends who left her. If she must grieve this wretched earth, it will be for the hands who toiled it. Never The Crown.

And yet, here she was dying for that Bastard King.

Blood seeped into her mouth. The taste of iron and salt squeezing her lungs. She swam on, limbs heavy even as she discarded her overskirts and bodice. Now she faced the cold with only left in a thin chemise and cap. Another wave swelled, pushing her against the wall of the cave. Riri’s body shuddered, a throbbing pain overtaking the fatigue and numbness.

Eyes weary, she cast her gaze up as darkness threatened to take hold. Even a mind as sharp as hers would falter in these conditions. No one would understand why she’d taken on this quest. She was no Knight. She had no armor. No land, no power to her name.

Only her mind kept her from the pits of irrelevance in a society this cruel. No one could interpret the stars like she could. She spent many nights in the Royal Observatory, hunched over an assortment of lenses. She poured over notes, calculations, renderings--deciphering the distance between earth and those endless depths above.

A fever for knowledge--a sign of madness to others. Smarts did a woman no good afterall. Rumors would speculate that her position only existed to keep her close to the King’s bedchamber without alerting the church.

Riri didn’t care. At the end of the day, her ceaseless research was an act of prayer. Not meant to be understood by others. To dare cast her sights above, to dare know the unknowable. Between the moon’s craters, the stars fading lights, and that space that never ended.

She’d see traces of Her everywhere.

Reverently, she’d write through the night catching glimpses of the Goddess’s presence. A breeze over her shoulder in a windowless room. Shadows that stretched like slender fingers, tracing the curved, ink numbers.

Oh--her Goddess of Moon, of Stars. She who kept the secrets of creation just out of sight--teasing her lowly worshiper.

It was a frantic night of discovery--like many others--that her Goddess finally answered.

It led her here. The bloody depths--her inevitable tomb.

And yet, drifting between consciousness, Riri smiles.

Above, through the cracks of the cave ceiling, the moon shined. Its light cool against her face--a caress like no other.

Around Riri, the water retreated. An arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her upright

Cool lips brushed against her ear-- Riri trembled.

“My curious astronomer…” Shuri whispered, watching a trail of water trickle down the human’s throat, “So bright, so fragile--Will you give up?”

Riri exhaled, squeezing her eyes tight, “Never,” she promised, “If I die…”

Kingdoms would fall--man would crumble--but most importantly--

“How else will I prove you wrong?”

Shuri laughed, surprised by her arrogance, “Oh? About what?”

“That I can never know you,” Riri said, head falling back, “That I can never reach you,”

“But I’m right here, aren’t I?” Shuri teased, a featherlight touch tracing Riri’s temple, “There’s nothing else to find. You’ve see it all,”

“I’ve never seen you,” Riri sighed, relishing the brief relief Her touch brought. She knows if she opens her eyes, if she dares to look back, there will be nothing but moonlight to greet her, “My everything, my eternity… I will not rest until I see you again.”

“Again?” Shuri echoed, lost.

Riri has never seen her in this lifetime. Ever.

Riri didn’t seem to take notice of the strangeness of her words. The prayer, it's promise, so natural on her lips.

Shuri let it pass, “If you insist,” she said, “But you must endure far greater pain,” she kissed Riri’s temple, then cheek--just shy of her lips, “No human can return from where you must go,” she murmured, words reverberating against Riri’s soul.

Shuri’s embrace slipped away.

Clouds covered the moon, marring its face.

Riri was alone again.

And the water rose, eager to swallow--to reduce her body to a corpse desperate for shore. Riri braced herself, taking a moment before she she let her fingers slip. She let herself get dragged down, down deeper.

Fear gripped her--it always did. Riri let it rush over, body jerking as brine spilled into her lips--lungs convulsing.

Riri kept swimming deeper, even as her body bloated to the surface.

Burning clarity pulled her from despair. Every atom buzzed into her awareness as she cast herself down deeper until the water scorched.

Riri gripped the sword buried in the core.

Oh-- The Earth.

It trembled as she became a little greater.

[disastercit]

ok complete post of my thoughts and feelings on the episode GO

-why is max here earlier than everyone else 🤨 last time Nikki and Neil showed up late so max being there before them was just natural. did his parents drop him off here at the ass crack of dawn

-lmao that quick little tap of a hug max gave nikki 😭you're not fooling anyone boy 🫵

-neil you KNOW youre not getting science camp

-wow that's two hugs in one episode

-ok so ered being asked to babysit definitely puts the low end of her age range around 14. unless her dads are just wildly irresponsible (not particularly unlikely)

-usually I would guess nikki was freaking out about not changing bc she started her period or something, but she already did in season 3 so idk

-max talking about being completely the same is ironic considering the voice actor change lol

-quartermaster is unknowably old, ok 👍

-speaking of qm, he sure is particularly relevant so far

-mahogany 😏

-cj: its about drive its about power we stay hungry we devour put in the work put in the hours and take what's ours-

-ouh cj I was so right about you

-max talking about his home life??? omg???

-CAMPBELL JUNIOR WE WERE RIGHT

-and he's stoned out of his mind of course

-david is so proud of him 😭😭

-ok so my guess was going in completely the wrong direction, neil doesn't get pierced during the season, he takes the piercing off

-GWEN!!!!

-apparently the clip we saw during the stream was a "next time on" thing, which I guess is a thing we have now

and here's my bingo so far (I haven't made a decision on CJ just yet)

the episode was also technically longer than usual, but not by much so I'm not sure it's gonna be a recurring thing.

[bvidzsoo]

Pure-blooded (Part 1)

 Author: bvidzsoo

 Warnings: the use of the word ‘bastard’, nothing else

 Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x oc

 Word count: 5942

 Summary:  A story about a girl called Vaella Velaryon, who after more than six years, returns to King's Landing due to her brother, Luke, being questioned about his right as heir of Driftmark, and she meets Aemond. A changed man. A vicious man who is set to have his revenge, unknowing that Vaella would do anything for her family.

 A/N:  *khm khm*(does a shameful walk) As a simple mortal, I had no choice but to crumble when I saw this man, so...my brain started working, and here I am, writing about Aemond *sighs* A little heads up, this will be a mini-series and we’ll see how many parts it’ll have, because I initially wanted to write three but uhm well, I keep getting ideas sooo yeah. I can start a taglist if people are interested, just comment on this post to let me know. Your feedback is strongly appreciated, so I hope you will leave your thoughts for me to read. You can find my story on Wattpad as well, under the username ‘Arfina8′. Enjoy now!

↳ Masterlist

              Serenity and peace was something King’s Landing had been lacking ever since King Viserys decided to marry Alicent Hightower. The friendship and trust had been broken forever between the two girls, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Lady Alicent Hightower. Rhaenyra felt betrayed, but tried to understand. Her father and her friend, who seemed to drastically change once her title was given, Queen Alicent Hightower. She had no business sitting on the throne next to the King, but Otto Hightower was a vile man, who out of greed would do anything to see his family succeed. Rightfully or not, it was no surprise to anyone anymore. Everyone from Rhaenyra’s family knew of the distrust and disrespect the Hightowers kept sending her way, time and time again, questioning her rightful title as heir to the Iron Throne and the legitimacy of her children. In some ways, it had become taboo to speak of such thing, unless you wished to grant yourself a very painful death. It was visible to everyone’s eyes, how different her sons were compared to her husband, Laenor Velaryon. And despite sharing the Targaryen features as much as her mother’s temper, Vaella was no different to her brothers. Her long platinum blonde hair and gleaming purple eyes wouldn’t save her from the whispers of others calling her a bastard as well. Why? Even in plain sight it was quite obvious that she shared none of her father’s qualities nor personality despite being raised by him. Laenor was a kind, patient, a bit clumsy and irresponsible, but loving man. Vaella, however, was brash and impatient. She didn’t take orders from anyone but her mother and alleged uncle, Daemon, and of course, herself. She was her own master and thus followed no one else but her own mind and heart. She was a soldier, never to be tamed, and a free spirit who sought justice and fairness. She wanted peace and most importantly to be accepted by her people for once and for all. She hated the whispers as much as her brothers, Jacaerys and Lucerys, did, as Joffrey was too young to understand what being called a bastard meant. And despite Princess Rhaenyra doing her best to protect her children, who meant the world to her, she was questioned time and time again, their legitimacy brought as center of discussion more than once. Vaella hated feeling powerless and uncapable of doing anything as a young girl, watching the pain in her mother’s eyes any time someone accused her brothers of looking like Ser Harwin Strong. As a young girl, she never understood why the people at Red Keep would stare at her with spite anytime she opened her mouth. But as time passed and she grew, she started to understand. She looked nothing like Laenor, yet resembled Daemon as if she were a fierce copy of his. She never dared question her mother, out of respect and fear of knowing the unspoken truth, but she knew. She knew the second her and Daemon were forced to meet at his beloved wife’s funeral, Laena. Their eyes held the same harshness and determination. Their hearts beat for justice and validation as they both felt like they deserved more than what life has given them, and most importantly, they both would burn bridges for Rhaenyra and slay anyone who dared mistreat the Princess. Vaella couldn’t explain why, but her love and loyalty lay deeply with her mother. She swore to protect her until her last breath were to be taken and give her anything she wanted. Sometimes, Rhaenyra would laugh, and say she was the son she never asked for but got in the form of a daughter, secretly wishing that she could name Vaella as heir to the Iron Throne. But Vaella was content with her position and the probability of inheriting Dragonstone one day, she didn’t yearn for the throne. That was to be Jacaerys’ as the second born, but first son of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Prince Laenor Velaryon. Yet after everything they have done for the King’s second family, the Hightowers, they even moved out to let them be in peace, they would still take and take from them. They would not rest until they have seen Rhaenyra destroyed and with nothing. They wanted her dead, especially Otto and Alicent, and it was no secret to anyone. Vaella hated that family with a passion and always wondered how such a sweet man like her grandsire, King Viserys, fell into their trap. Perhaps, that is why he fell into it, because he refused to see their true nature. Now, with the sole existence of Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond Targaryen, Princess Rhaenyra’s succession to the throne would be questioned and debated over and over again. Those bastards would never have enough, not until they see the rightful heir and her family burning. Something that would never happen on Vaella and Daemon’s watches, not if they would strike the Hightowers first, but for that, they had to be patient. And that is why Daemon sent a raven to Vaella, discreetly asking her to join them at King’s Landing as Lucerys’ legitimacy had been questioned once again as her uncle Vaemond was petitioning against him inheriting Driftmark. Vaella’s blood boiled when she read the letter from her father and without much explanation she went to get her dragon, Silverwing, to fly to King’s Landing. Vaella was a traveler, therefore she resided both on Dragonstone and Pentos, the later being a place her father suggested she’d frequent. Daemon loved the libraries they had there and figured he could send her daughter to enjoy what that place had to offer for her. Vaella didn’t complain once she saw the beauty of that place and all the lectures it had to offer her. She might’ve been a soldier, but her heart yearned to study and learn as much as she could about her heritage, history, and curiosities of each land.

           The ride to King’s Landing had been swift, Silverwing could sense his rider’s anger and displeasure as they flew through the air. It came as no surprise to see nobody waiting for her once she arrived to the Red Keep, the courtyard empty as she waltzed through it, head held high. Not being welcomed to the place she once called her home didn’t affect her in any way. What did anger her, however, were the disgusting changes brought to it. The place was littered with green and the emblems of the Hightowers, making her feel sick. This place rightfully belonged to the Targaryens, her own family, and she couldn’t believe the plain disrespect brought upon the still living King by none other than his wife, who Vaella refused to acknowledge as Queen. When she was a child, she didn’t understand the seemingly obvious hatred directed at her by the woman or why she was trying to keep her sons away from her and her own brothers. Her uncles were nice kids while they were growing up, until they weren’t, until their mother’s words got to them, forever imprinted in their minds. Vaella was never one to instigate anything or hate people for no concrete reasons, but that faithful night, when Lucerys cut their uncle’s eye out accidentally, she realized there was no turning back. Aemond had looked at them with disgust and hatred, when he saw them rush to into their mother’s arms, Princess Rhaenyra. Vaella wasn’t a witness to the event as Aegon had stolen one of her dagger’s and was running around the castle drunkenly, hiding from her. She felt horrible when she heard what had happened. It made her hate herself how instead of being there to protect her younger brothers and cousins, she was running after Aegon, who was just being his usual jester self and annoying her. Despite their current hatred for each other, she had fond memories of Aegon, as the two of them would bicker quite often and chase each other around the castle. While they were growing up, Aegon was good with a sword and secretly would train her from time to time as being a lady and a Princess didn’t grant her the same privileges her brothers and uncles had. Aemond was never too fond of her, recognizing the power she held inside her at a young age already. He saw her as someone who would challenge him and outshine him in the future, getting his eye taken by her brother only made matters worse between the two. Vaella wasn’t fond of Aemond either, even before that faithful event, as she thought he was too soft and easy to pick on. He had the potential in him, yet he allowed everyone to walk all over him. Vaella hated people like that, people who willingly allowed themselves to be victims without standing up for themselves and instead running to their mothers to cry about what had happened. If Vaella were to be like that, she’d be nowhere today. She wouldn’t be a soldier, she wouldn’t have one of the most powerful dragon’s under her control, she wouldn’t have earned so many men and women’s respect, and most importantly…she wouldn’t be her mother’s most loyal and sworn protector. Lost in thought, she made her way up the stairs to the second floor of the castle, having in mind to visit her grandsire, but four guards came rounding the corner and stopping her in her tracks. Her body tensed as her left hand grabbed the handle of her sword strapped onto her hip.

“Princess Vaella,” the commander spoke up, bringing the princess’ gleaming eyes onto him, “your mother, Princess Rhaenyra, asked us to escort you to her chamber once you have arrived.”

Vaella stared at them for a second before nodding her head, releasing the handle of her sword. These guards were harmless, and they would lead her to her mother. The commander nodded his head silently and they started walking, two guards disappearing as they descended the stairs to their left, leaving her with two guards only. Despite being a soldier herself, Vaella didn’t wear armor unless she had to partake in a battle. She found the clothing too heavy to bear all day and opted for a simpler outfit, one that wouldn’t restrain her if she needed to fight. She wore tight black, leather pants, and two daggers gifted by Daemon, were hidden in her two boots which reached just above her knees. The laces were tightly tied together, the steel of her daggers lightly digging into her clothed leg, a constant reminder that she had them there. Her camisole was always beige and tucked away underneath her usually burgundy or black flowy shirts. Vaella wore them always off her shoulders and tucked inside her leather pants, accompanied by her usually black corset which came over her shirt and hugged her torso firmly. She didn’t like wearing her corset too loosely or too tightly as it mattered a lot when it came to combat offering her more mobility or restricting her of some movement. Her burgundy cloak was eye catching and everyone would stare at her when she passed by them, she wasn’t afraid or ashamed of her heritage. She wore it proudly and loudly, letting everyone know who she was. The daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Prince Laenor Velaryon. Those who valued their lives stayed away from the fierce Princess. The guards stopped in front of double doors and knocked on it before they allowed Vaella to step inside. She opened the doors and found herself looking at her mother and father. Rhaenyra was cradling her bump as Daemon looked outside the window, eyebrows drawn together.

“Mother, father.” Vaella greeted and bowed her head as a wide smile spread onto her mother’s lips.

“Vaella, finally,” She let out a sigh of relief and approached her daughter, “I was afraid you wouldn’t make it here in time.”

“None sense, mother.” Vaella’s eyebrows furrowed as she embraced her mother, careful of her bump, “I shall never miss out on such a hideous hearing. Will they ever let us rest—”

“Vaella, darling,” Daemon’s fatherly voice interrupted Vaella’s full of anger rant, “we had a rather straining day today. Let us not aggravate Princess Rhaenyra furthermore.”

Vaella gulped and bit her tongue, refraining herself of saying the insults she had in mind directed at the Hightowers, “My apologies, but tell me, what is the matter?”

Rhaenyra sighed and glanced at Daemon, who nodded lightly, “The King is very sick…I do not know for how much longer he will be amongst us.”

Vaella could hear the heartbreak in her mother’s voice and it broke her own heart seeing her like that, and hearing the condition of her grandsire. She loved the man a lot, he always protected them, he always took their side and shut down each and every accusation thrown their way. She might hate the Hightowers, and despite King Viserys choosing to marry such a snake as Alicent, it always left her impressed how much he’d go against his wife to protect his only child from his one and only love, Princess Aemma. Vaella always wished to meet her, but Her Grace died when her mother was a blooming girl; it was a very long time ago.

“Is there anything to be done?” Vaella found her voice as she looked at her father. He shook his head with a sigh, seeing his brother in such state bothered him a lot.

“I’m afraid it’s too late for anything to be done, daughter.” Daemon’s voice was low and Vaella nodded, sensing from his tone that they were done talking about the King’s condition. She looked at her mother and willed herself to smile at her.

“How is the baby, Princess? I haven’t seen you all in over a moon.” Rhaenyra smiled down at her bump and looked back at her daughter.

“She’s doing well.”

“So it seems I’ll have another baby sister?” Vaella smiled as she glanced between her parents, having accepted Daemon’s daughters as her own sisters the day her parents got married. She held no ill intentions towards her half-sisters, perhaps a little envy that they go to grow up with her real father, but she never held that against them. It was never their fault.

“Your mother had decided that it will be a girl and so I have agreed with her.” Daemon said with a chuckle as he brushed his hand against Rhaenyra’s baby bump.

“A wise choice, my Prince.” Vaella chuckled and Daemon smiled at her, noticing the two daggers gifted by him hiding in her boots and the red stoned ring also gifted by him sitting proudly on her left pointer finger. Vaella’s unashamed show of her heritage always amused him, but also made him adore her more. He was content of having a daughter which resembled him so much, yet he was grateful Vaella was lucky enough to inherit Rhaenyra’s level-headedness, which stopped her from being completely reckless as he was.

“Vaella, your brothers have dearly missed you. I think you should meet them.” Vaella’s eyes lit up at the mention of her brothers and she eagerly nodded her head at her mother’s suggestion, “They are probably headed to the courtyard, I heard them talking and saying they wanted to see the training grounds—”

Vaella bowed her head at her father and mother and turned to leave, but her mother’s final words made her stop by the door, “And please, Princess, stop them from engaging into anything stupid. And I also hope I can expect the same from yourself, Princess Vaella.”

Vaella smirked to herself, her mother knowing her too well. If she were to be provoked, there were less chances she’d back down and more that she would stand up to the challenge and accept it, “Of course, mother, do not worry.”

           Finding her brothers was no hard task, as they were quite loud while chatting. They were eagerly running around the castle, looking and checking every nook and cranny they were allowed to. Vaella, just to amuse herself, crept after them quietly, wondering when they’d notice her. So far, she had been tailing them for ten minutes and they seemed oblivious to her presence. Or so she had thought, because rounding the corner which lead to the stairs taking them downstairs to the main entrance, fours hands had her pinned against the wall. Her brothers eyes widened and instantly released their sister, shocked and happy at the same time. Vaella grinned at them and pulled them both into a bear hug, having missed them.

“Sister!” Luke exclaimed and held onto her arms, “We were not informed you would be joining us here!”

Vaella rolled her eyes and scoffed as she leaned a bit down, “I wouldn’t miss such an atrocious event, Luke. Somebody has to make order in this damned castle—”

“And you wish to be doing that, right?” Jace interrupted her inner thoughts spilling out and Vaella smirked at him, leaning her arm on his shoulder as Luke released her. She was taller than both of her brothers, but they were still growing, she was sure one day she’d have to look up at both of them as they would outgrow her.

“I wish to slit every throat that dares question the legitimacy and loyalty of my family.” Vaella answered them darkly as she glared at nothing specifically, letting her dark thoughts control her. Luke gulped nervously as he glanced at Jace before grabbing onto Vaella’s hand, bringing her back to the present.

“You can be so scary sometimes, sister.” Luke muttered as Jace took her other hand and they suddenly started pulling their sister with themselves, heading down the stone steps and marching towards the huge door. Vaella ignored Luke’s comment and let her brothers drag her with themselves, not complaining, as she had missed their presences. She loved them dearly and enjoyed spending her time with them. Being a few years older, she would read to them when they were younger and she’d help them learn high Valyrian, finding amusement at Jace’s repeated mistranslations. Once outside, Jace released his hold on his sister and ran up ahead Luke and Vaella, feeling full of excitement as he took in the place. In his eyes, nothing much had changed. Luke seemed hesitant in following after his brother, but still holding onto Vaella, he was forced to descend the stone steps. She noticed his hesitancy but said nothing, taking in the scenery before them. People had gathered here and there, some chatting as well as walking around. A smaller group had gathered around two fighting knights.

“Smaller than I remember.” Luke commented as Vaella and him glanced at two identical looking knights training, their swords clashing together. Vaella was itching to hold her sword and challenge a knight, but she remembered her mother’s words and refrained from doing so.

“It looks exactly the same.” Jace scoffed at his brother and hurried down the steps, glancing back at his sister and brother, urging them to follow him, “Ah, Luke, Vaella, come on!”

“In fact, it does not look exactly the same.” Vaella whispered to Luke with a grin and he shook his head, suddenly releasing her hand. Vaella looked at him with a questioning gaze until she noticed Jace tensing up and slowing down his walk to wait for his siblings to catch up to him. It didn’t take much for Vaella to realize why her brothers turned suddenly so stiff and alarmed. Everyone passing by them in the courtyard was staring. She hated it. The instant whispers and judgmental stares thrown their way, she wished to cut out their tongues and poke their eyes out. Her hand twitched to grab onto her sword, so instead, she allowed her hand to rest on Luke’s shoulder as Jace suddenly ran forward, towards a wall, with a missing piece in it. Luke and her stopped in front of a table full of various weapons, watching Jace’s excited face.

“See? I told you this would still be here.” Jace walked back towards them as Luke smiled to himself bashfully, “And you thought you could swing Criston’s morning star. And you almost took your own head off.”

No doubt Jace was recalling one of their trainings at which Vaella back then wasn’t allowed to participate, having been deemed too barbaric and un-ladylike. She couldn’t give a shit about it, but she didn’t want to upset her grandsire and her mother, so she stayed inside, and pretended to take an interest in sewing. When in reality, she absolutely hated it. As Vaella grabbed onto a weapon, her and Jace inspecting it, she felt Luke turn his head. She could feel his discomfort still and having her hand on his shoulder, she turned him back towards the weapons, giving him a glare.

“What’s your problem?” Jace asked as he noticed the exchange. Vaella forcefully placed the weapon back on the table as she felt Luke stealing a glance at her.

“Everyone’s staring at us.”

“Let them stare, brother.” Vaella snapped and looked around, catching the eyes of a few ladies and men, making her scowl at them. Everyone knew of the Princess’ reputation and they were afraid of her, her outbursts being sudden and brutal. Jace took a sword in his hand and pointed it at Vaella and Luke playfully, chuckling when Vaella raised an eyebrow at him. To his shame, his sister was a much better swordsman than he would ever be.

“No one would question me being heir to Driftmark—If—if I looked more like Ser Laenor Velaryon than Ser Harwin Strong.” Vaella sighed loudly as Jace stopped playing around with the weapons and looked at his brother.

“It doesn’t matter what they think.” Jace’s answer brought a smirk onto Vaella’s lips, appreciating his mindset which was similar to hers, and it left Luke looking at his two siblings smirking at each other cheekily. He sighed, feeling frustrated that seemingly he was the only one bothered by the stares and whispers. Luke knew Vaella didn’t care about anyone else’s opinions and he knew that while Jace cared, he never let it show. But Luke was different, he couldn’t hide his emotions well and being away from Dragonstone, which was his safe place, he felt uncomfortable and mistreated. However, he feared voicing his thoughts, knowing his sister would slay every soul standing in that courtyard if that meant it would make him feel better. He loved his sister, but she scared him more often than not. The siblings attention was caught by loud gasping coming from the crowd gathered around two fighting knights behind them. Jace, still excited about being back here, turned and ran up to the circle and it promptly made Luke and Vaella follow him. Vaella’s hand still rested on Luke’s shoulder and he didn’t mind, because it brought a sense of familiarity and reassurance to him. She was the only one making him feel safe underneath those judging eyes and he wished he could tell her, but knew his sister didn’t appreciate weakness from the people around her. Luke always tried to act tough around his sister, but sometimes failed miserably, yet it brought no change to Vaella’s thoughts about him. He was her baby brother and she knew he was scared of the world and their judgmental words, but she also knew he would grow up to be a powerful and proud man.

Vaella’s attention landed on the fighting knights and her body instantly tensed at the sight of Ser Criston Cole. She hated that man with her whole being and wanted nothing more than to cut out his tongue before torture him for the vile things he’s said and done to her family. However, her attention went as quickly as it came from that bastard as she watched the tall man fighting him. The platinum blonde hair made him easily recognizable as it could be no one else but a Targaryen. Having his back facing them, she couldn’t identify him, but she assumed it was Prince Aegon. He had been a fine swordsman while growing up, and as he loved attention she wouldn’t be surprised to see him fighting Ser Criston in front of a little crowd, gloating later on. That is, if he changed and became more mature…however, Vaella doubted her uncle was possible of changing much. Luke being a bit shorter tried to see better the fight and Vaella pulled him in front of her, letting go of his shoulder as she watched the fight closely. Ser Criston Cole was swinging his flail at the Targaryen prince, who was ferociously trying to dodge his blows while trying to gain advantage and swing at him with his sword. The fight was violent and the little crowd cheered when the Prince made a futile attempt at an advance, but Ser Criston swung his flail at him harshly, breaking the Prince’s shield in half. It took the later man off balance and Vaella smirked as she watched her uncle lose his footing for a second and slip, but her little amusement disappeared instantly when the two man changed positions, the prince now facing them and swinging at Ser Criston with his sword aggressively. It was not Prince Aegon, but Prince Aemond. Both Luke and Jace took a step back in shock, stepping onto Vaella’s feet, and when they turned to apologize, they saw how much her body language had changed. Vaella’s jaw was tight as her eyes focused on Prince Aemond only, following his every step as he turned around again, recoiling at Ser Criston’s continuous attacks. Vaella’s heart was thumping so loudly that all she could hear was that as she tried to ground herself, waiting for her shock to dissolve. The Aemond she knew was a frail and scared boy, running to his mother to seek refuge after every little inconvenience. But the Aemond before her looked ruthless in his swings and with a final swing from Ser Criston, Aemond swung his sword at him, taking him off guard, and winning the fight altogether. Vaella gulped and felt Luke’s hand sneakily holding hers, giving her a comforting squeeze. She quickly composed herself and placed her other hand on Jace’s shoulder, standing tall as the crowd started clapping for Prince Aemond.

“Well done, my Prince.” Ser Criston said smugly, “You’ll be winning tourneys in no time.”

“I don’t give a shit about tourneys.” Prince Aemond’s stoic expression was accompanied by his harsh words, surprising Vaella and her brothers even more. The frail little boy was gone, and a ruthless, cold man stood in his place. It was a change which Vaella never imagined would happen.

“Nephews.” Prince Aemond’s good eye fell on the siblings, its stare pinning them to the ground, “Have you come to train?”

Luke and Jace stepped back at his words, stepping onto Vaella’s feet again, prompting her to hold onto both of her brothers’ napes to hold them in place. She felt Aemond’s eye on her, taking her in. They haven’t seen each other in over six years. Aemond was tall now, and his eyepatch seemed to scream in their faces, as his piercing blue eye ran up and down Vaella’s body, noticing the changes the years brought to her. Her muscles were firm but not too much, and he could see the discipline in her body, making it obvious that she was a fighter. And if not her body stance, the sword tied to her hips made it very obvious. Her face had also gotten fuller and more mature, her round eyes more hollow looking than they were before. Her purple eyes could slice anyone in half, and he felt just that as she stared him down, hatred mixed with surprised showing on her features. Aemond’s face had changed too, it’s what took Vaella off guard the most. His jaw was sharp and his cheekbones high, his light blue eye paired with his eyepatch making him look dangerous. She wasn’t scared of him, knowing of his nature before his transformation, but the fight she had just seen told her that her uncle might surprise her more than once during her family’s visit to the Red Keep.

“Niece.” Prince Aemond finally found his voice, not surprised at Vaella’s defiance as she refused to speak first. He knew her as a chatty girl, yet her own harsh exterior came as a surprise, making him think that the once cheerful girl he knew was long gone.

“Uncle.” Her voice was firm as she greeted back, not afraid to stand up to him. She intended on walking away, but as she started tugging on her brothers napes to make them walk, a guard shouted for the gates to be opened and in walked Prince Vaemond Velaryon. Vaella didn’t miss the smug smirk on Aemond’s lips as he watched Ser Vaemond walk inside, meanwhile her brothers started fidgeting under her hold, the Prince sending a dirty look their way. Vaella stood tall and gave a glare to Ser Vaemond, but was ignored just as her brothers were. Ser Vaemond and his guards having passed them, headed up the stone steps, inside the castle. Vaella sneered and made a move to leave when her uncle spoke up.

“A fight, before you leave?” His right eyebrow raised as he watched Vaella looking at him with an amused smile.

“I was given instructions not to engage in any provocation to a fight—”

“I wasn’t talking to you, niece—”

“Why? Are you afraid a woman might be able to defeat you?” Vaella taunted, raising her eyebrows and felt Luke trying to make her walk as Jace looked at Aemond with a glare. Their uncle chuckled but remained unphased by her words.

“I have unfinished business with my nephew, Luke.” Hearing his name, the boy tensed and looked at Vaella with pleading eyes, asking her to start walking back inside the castle.

“You have no—”

“Bona iksos olvie unfortunate, uncle.” (That is quite unfortunate, uncle.) Vaella cut off Jace as she switched to High Valyrian, smirking at her uncle as his jaw clenched. Without waiting for an answer, she leaned her head down between her brothers and smiled, “Let’s go steal some snacks from the kitchen.”

Jace snickered at his sister’s words as she started walking them, still holding onto her brothers napes, feeling Aemond’s eye on her, as she held her chin high and looked only ahead, refusing to make eye contact with him. She wished nothing more than to engage into a fight with him, kick him to the ground and point her sword at his neck, but her mother has asked her to behave and keep her brothers out of trouble as well. She didn’t want to upset the pregnant woman, therefore decided to walk away. The air was a bit tense between the three as they started ascending the stone steps and Vaella cracked a grin, glancing back towards where the small crowd was now dispersed but Ser Criston and Prince Aemond remained. She caught the eye of her uncle and immediately turned her head, jaw clenching at being caught looking. There was something very alluring about the man and she hated how her curiosity sparked after their interaction, sensing the distaste and hatred oozing out of Aemond as he looked at them yet dared not to touch them.

“Did you see the mistake he made?” Vaella spoke up with a vile smirk, recalling the slip up of her uncle.

“Who?” Luke muttered confused, glancing up at his big sister as Jace opened the doors for them, and Vaella finally released the boys from her firm hold. It was a tactic to keep them under control but it was also something she would quite frequently do; they didn’t mind it after all.

“Our uncle, of course. When his shield broke, he was distracted and almost toppled over.” Vaella chuckled and placed her hands behind her back, following her brothers down to the kitchen, “Cricket Horn almost got him—”

“Cricket Horn?!” Jace exclaimed outraged and Luke had to press a hand against his lips as his loud laughter broke out of him suddenly. Vaella tried to remain unphased but couldn’t help her own laughter bubbling up.

“Criston Cole, I thought of finding a more fitting name for him.” Vaella managed to say between her laughter and her brothers were now stopped and toppling over in laughter. She knew she was distracting them from their dire moods and felt content watching her brothers forget about the whole ordeal which has happened in the courtyard. They started coming up with more hilarious names as they continued their walk to the kitchen and Vaella listened to them amused, their versions getting more and more creative. It made her realize that they were still young and underserving of the accusations the Hightowers and their own family was bringing to them. It made her blood boil, but being here she knew she could keep them safe and away from harm. Even if that came in the form of their uncle, she could take the man, she wasn’t afraid. And she was certain she’d be able to defeat him too, his fighting combat being that of the usual she saw in battles. Her father made sure to teach her tricks and so did her masters at Pentos and Dorne, making her a very talented fighter. She took pride in that.

“You know,” Luke muttered as they reached the kitchen, “I thought uncle Aemond wouldn’t hold a grudge against me—I should’ve known better, Vaella. I’m too naïve.”

Vaella sighed and looked at Jace as he ruffled his brother’s hair, “You are not. Yes, your uncle lost a very important asset of his, but he should not hold a grudge against a child who was just trying to defend his own brother. Do not be afraid of him, Lucerys, he will not lay a finger on you.”

“Because you will have his fingers cut and fed to Silverwing?” Luke asked quietly, grinning up at his siblings. Jace chuckled and looked at his sister amused, knocking his shoulder into her arm.

“Have I told you that you are a fast learner?” Vaella raised her eyebrow and grinned at her brother with mischief. Luke nodded his head proudly and Jace clapped his hands together, looking eager to raid the kitchen now. He was starving for some sweets.

“Shall we go now?” Jace held the handle of the door and Luke nodded eagerly. Vaella leaned down and licked her lips.

“Remember, we must be quick and under no circumstance can be caught, yes?” Her brothers nodded, mischievous smiles on their faces. They would do this frequently at Dragonstone, raid the kitchen and take as many snacks as they could without being caught. Then they would run to their dragons and fly to the nearest island, which was just ten minutes away, and devour their snacks before going for a swim in the ocean, if it was warm enough that day. Vaella knew there was no island they could fly to right now, but she knew of a forest with a beautiful meadow not far from here. Rhaenyra was the one who had shown it to her and ever since then it became Vaella’s favorite spot in all of King’s Landing.

Jace started counting from one to three and when he pushed the door open, Luke and Vaella slipped inside, making a run for the table filled with snacks.

↳Next part 

[divine-donna]

dragon’s smile

pairing: rhaenyra targaryen x gn! reader

word count: 2,028 words

ao3 link: ❤️❤️❤️

a short rhaenyra fic to accompany the alicent fic i just wrote! i have come through with my promise. so have fun!

The journey to Dragonstone was exhausting and long. You did not fare well on boats, nor fared well on anything that moved (aside from a horse). But you were grateful that you could emerge from your hiding spot on the boat and jump into the sea, bringing with you your mother’s sword. You carried little on your journey to Dragonstone. You did not plan on keeping any of your old items.

You knew there was a possibility that you would never return home.

Your family has long served House Hightower.

And you just betrayed them, their crowned heir Aegon II, and dishonored your family.

Otto Hightower had no idea that you had snuck onto the boat, had no idea that you were missing from the Red Keep. Long had you served Alicent and her family. Alicent was a gentle soul, yes, but you believed in the King’s wish for his daughter to be on the throne. Her son was...well, there are no gentle words to describe your true feelings about him. He was a revolting boy and he had turned into a revolting man.

After all, someone had to keep track of all the maidens he chased after despite being married.

Someone had to keep girls quiet.

You always hated the sound of silver and gold, how hefty the small leather pouches were in your hand. But to defy Alicent then would’ve meant becoming a social pariah and dishonoring your family. Your purpose was to serve her ever since you were an adolescent. You accompanied her to King’s Landing, became an unknowing spy to the Hand of the King.

But she changed your life forever.

When she gazed upon you, you felt your heart stop. Her silver Valyrian hair delicately braided, her rosy cheeks, her witty sense of humor. And that smile of hers. How you would have killed your family and the Hightowers just to see her smile.

Welcome (Y/N). Rhaenyra greeted you with a grin. I do hope we become close. Alicent speaks very fondly of you.

Since then, you have been silently dedicated to Rhaenyra Targaryen and her family, even to the extent of defending her children in private when talking to Alicent. The Queen could not believe that you, her life long companion and friend, would defend the Princess. But your loyalties were firm.

And so you swam to the sandy shores of Dragonstone, turning around to watch the boats with the green three-headed dragon leave the island.

You have never been to Dragonstone. So your first move should be to leave the beach and request an audience with Rhaenyra.

The sound of something heavy landing on the sand caught your attention and you turned around. You were met with red scales and the glint of a familiar sword. “Daemon.” 

“Seems like the Hand of the King has sent one measly soldier to the beaches of Dragonstone.” He scowls. “What is your purpose here, Hightower scum?” The dragon roars and snorts, as if preparing to set you ablaze.

“I come here with no other purpose than to serve.” You say, body tensing up.

“A convincing argument.” Daemon scoffs. “What is your true purpose here?”

Before you can answer, the roar of a dragon could be overheard you. You recognized that roar and when you looked up, you recognized the beautiful colors along the dragon’s scales. Syrax lands next to Caraxes before you. Her face is gentle when she lays eyes upon you. And riding her is Rhaenyra with a golden crown adorning her head. She looked regal and it looked right. Aegon wearing the crown of the Conquerer did not nor can you imagine him looking right upon the Iron Throne. Her eyes meet yours but no smile crosses her face. Instead, her frown deepens. “(Y/N).” She says.

“My Queen.”

“Did Otto Hightower send you?”

“No, my Queen. I have no loyalty to the Hightowers. Alicent does not know I have gone missing and came here.”

“Did you come from their boats?”

You hesitate to answer for a moment. “...Yes. I snuck onto a boat and then jumped off when we arrived, while you received Aegon II’s claims. I swam to shore and I come with nothing but my sword, ready to fight for you.”

“Fight for me?” Her frown loosens.

“Yes, my Queen. I recognize no one else as the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Rhaenyra’s facial expression is one of contemplation. When she sees you, she does not see a Hightower or a servant of the Hightowers. Rather, she sees a capable person with the skills of a knight, someone perceptive of military strategy, someone loyal and willing to do anything for their princess, now their Queen.

“They lie.” Daemon looks at his wife. “Burn them here Rhaenyra. And we’ll send their bones back to King’s Landing to show them what happens to traitors.”

You stood firm, boots sinking into the sand. You stood tall, a clear act of refusal to leave. If you die here, then so be it.

“(Y/N) would never. They take their oaths seriously.” Rhaenyra dismounts from Syrax. She approaches you. “Do you mean it? When you say you will fight for me?”

“I mean it with all my heart, Your Grace.” Your voice is sincere. It cracks a little.

Tears brim the woman’s eyes but she takes a deep breath and closes them. When she opens them again, they are gone. Turning to Daemon, she speaks her final verdict. “(Y/N) will join us. We need as many allies as possible.”

Daemon looks like he’s about to say something but he bows his head. “Of course, my Queen.” He looks at you. “But first, (Y/N) must swear an oath of loyalty to you. And abandon their sword.”

“My sword?”

“Your sword is a sword of old oaths. It is the sword of your mother, yes?” You nod. “Then abandon it. It is a sword that is meant for the oath of the Hightowers. You have no business carrying around a sword meant for their flames and banners.”

You don’t hesitate to move your hands, undoing the string keeping your sword at your waist. Once undone, you toss the sword at the feet of Caraxes. You kneel before Rhaenyra, head bowed. “I, (Y/N) of Oldtown, hereby swear to fight for Queen Rhaenyra, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. My blade rises for no other. I swear to aid my Queen in her quest to retrieve the Iron Throne from the usurper Aegon II, and live out my days as her subject.”

Rhaenyra lets out a deep breath and she smiles. “Rise, (Y/N) of Oldtown. Rise as my sworn subject and as a general of my army.”

You look up at her, her smile gentle. Your heartbeat quickens and you feel yourself become light as you stand before her.

“Come with me, (Y/N). We must get you dry clothes and a hot bath.”

It has been a few days since you came to Dragonstone. By now, your family would be wondering what had happened to you. After all, you send Ravens to them frequently to update them on your life in King’s Landing. And the Hightowers would have to presume you ran away. Alicent especially would know of the reason why.

“How do you find Dragonstone?”

You turn around, eyes meeting hers. “It is a peaceful place. Certainly one for dragons.”

“I wish it could be more peaceful.”

Rhaenyra’s face is exhausted. She looked tired and overwhelmed with much reason. There was no way to plan a funeral for her son and she has plunged Westeros into war.

“It will be, my Queen. We will make it so.” You walk towards her and gently take her hands. “I will make it so.”

“You have always stuck besides me, (Y/N). Even though you were meant to serve the Hightowers.”

“The Hightowers serve the Targaryens. Thus, I have always served you.” Your grip on her hands tighten. “Alicent Hightower and her brat of a child have long been forgotten in my mind. I broke my vow long ago.”

“A brat?” She lets out a small laugh, a small smile crossing her face.

“Cannot convince me otherwise. I spent most of my days cleaning up after him.”

“Is that what you have been doing all these years?”

You let go of her hands and look away, shame appearing on your face. “I am not proud of what I’ve done. I’ve gone against my code and my beliefs, covered up after the prince. Alicent would not be able to do most of it so she left it up to me. Money, silks, food even.” You shake your head. “It is all too vile to discuss.”

Rhaenyra observes your look of shame, the way your eyes are dark with conflict and how the tired look on your face explains all. She gently takes one of your hands and holds it between both of hers. “You did what had to be done, and what was expected of you.”

“Yes. My father would have disinherited me if I did not do the Queen Dowager’s biding. Alas, now he will disinherit me.” You look at her.

“But you are here now. And as a general to my army, I must ask something of you.”

“Of course, my Queen. I am at your command.”

“Daemon says we should aspire to take Harrenhal and make it our base of operations on the mainland.” Her grip on your hand tightens and there is a ferocity in her eyes. “As you know, Harrenhal is occupied by House Strong and its Lord is the only remaining Strong, Larys.”

“He has a weird penchant for feet.”

She has a confused look on her face before proceeding. “House Strong is not aligned with our cause. They back Aegon’s claim to the Iron Throne. We must take it by force. And I want you to be amongst the people to plan on taking Harrenhal.”

“So it shall be done, my Queen.”

“You will, thus, be thrusted into battle. I have something to give you for that.”

“Do tell.”

“That will ruin the surprise.”

Rhaenyra lets go of your hand and begins walking. You follow her, still not used to the corridors and the layout of Dragonstone. You would probably get lost without her guidance. She opens the door, and lets you inside first. Your gaze falls upon the shiny metal. It was brand new, without use. And you ran your hands over its smooth surface. You could see your own reflection. And at the center of the breastplate was the sigil of House Targaryen.

“My Queen.” You turn around to face her. She holds a longsword in its sheath.

“If you are to lead my forces, you will need armor and a new sword to do so. Consider it representative of your new oath.” Rhaenyra smiles as she places the sword in your hands.

You remove it from its sheath, gazing upon the ripples of the metal. “Valyrian steel?” You look at her with surprise. “I am unworthy of such a generous gift.”

“I want my general to have the best. Daemon had the armor made and I had an old sword broken down and forged anew.” She walks towards you and presses a gentle kiss on your cheek. You are too surprised to speak.

“Thank you for everything, (Y/N).” Rhaenyra pulls away. “Perhaps one day, we can ride on dragonback across the Narrow Sea and eat only cake.”

“I-I thought that was a dream for you and Alicent.”

“You were the only one to say yes to me when I brought it up that day.” A smirk forms on her face. “Now tell me, what name will you give your sword? Every great sword has a name.”

You gaze upon your blade, the handle wrapped in a thick, black dyed leather. The metal work is truly fine. And when you look at this blade, all you can think about is the smile of your Queen.

A smile you were willing to go to war for.

“I think I’ll call it...Dragon’s Smile.”

[frogonamelon]

Wow, familial love really ended up being a theme here huh?

Some Atlas (by the incredible @sodaspons) warmups for your consideration.

We have entered the unknowable for me in terms of 2k12 canon as I still have yet to see what isn't on Netflix and know next to nothing about the show moving forward.

I love Karai and Venus' dynamic so much! Adorable! I love that they get to talk about the whole guardian thing and share memories of Shen <3

Since I included HC Rise! Miwa:

'Jitsu for Justice' (Lou's second to last film and the last one before he proposes to BM) had a lone wolf and cub storyline in which Lou meets a young deaf & mute girl and takes her on as an apprentice. She would reappear in ‘Hot Soup Forever’, Lou’s last film.

This young girl is Huay Lian (meaning Blossom and Lotus respectively) played by child actress Miwa (undecided last name). This is also why Splinter knows some sign language to teach to his kids.

Lian is played by either Oroku Miwa (the descendant of Saki’s son/ Karai’s brother Hiroto) or Miwa Smith (with Jennika’s last name). Her and Yoshi's dynamic is very sweet and kind of parental/ fun uncle and precocious niece.

Inspirations: Mara Wilson & Danny DeVito (Matilda) in behind the scenes and Harley Keener in Iron Man 3 & Endgame and Jesper & Margu's dynamic from Klaus in JfJ and HSF.

The drawing itself is Miwa and Yoshi/ Lou on the red carpet. Yes, his suit is bright blue and sparkly in my head.

[ponder-the-orb]

Shades of red

Pairing: Fem Tav/Ascended Astarion, (unnamed tav)

Tags: 18+, smut and angst, biting (whole lotta biting), blood, choking, P in V

Word count: 6K

Summary:

She sees the blood smeared like rouge on his lips as he lifts his head. A beautiful colour. Their colour.

She isn’t sure the last time she hasn’t thought about her life in shades of red: dripping from her hands, hot in her mouth, shining sharp and violent in his eyes.

She looks down at those same eyes now, burning intensely as he works her. There’s an image she hasn’t been able to get out of her mind for a while, more faded than a dream. She’s sure they were softer once, rich like apple skin, fresh as autumn hues. Now if she stares too long it feels like she’s looking down the lit barrel of a cannon.

***

Forever gives one ample time to think. Was the man she once knew ever even real or just another mask to be dropped once 7000 souls had been burned through her eyes?

Read on AO3 or below

How long can eternity truly be? It’s a question that’s been turning in the back of her mind with numbing regularity for a while now. The very idea of time seems to wear away when she has forever at her fingertips, stretching on and on into a grey horizon. It’s not really a concept that exists between the dark walls of the palace anyway. She couldn’t tell you how long she’d been here with any more accuracy than guessing the number of pebbles lining the streets of Baldur’s Gate beyond. Years seem to melt past with unknowable speed but the turning of days drag slower than dripping molasses. 

Never is that thought more pressing than the nights Astarion feels charitable enough to acquiesce to audience requests. 

The ballroom is draped in half darkness, his preferred atmosphere for these meetings. Long shadows shift in flickering silence from the high ceiling, the wrought iron candelabra standing stiff as they throw their orange glow over both the polished tile and his quaking guest.

He’s reclined in the throne at the end of the room, the lack of furniture only serving to make the space between him and the visitor seem that much longer. She stands behind him as usual, one hand at her side, the other gripped to the top of the chair just behind the crown of his head. It’s her place - looking every bit the beautiful weapon she’s been polished to be. Cold. Sharp. Sheathed.

Astarion’s head inclines as they continue to speak, a clear sign he’s only half paying attention to whoever this poor soul is. She never needs the details but from a glance she can glean he’s some elven noble who’d drawn the short straw to come and beg at his feet. 

Before, these meetings had almost made her smile. Those with status always wear their fineries like armour but golden threads do little to hide their true nature once they cross this threshold. Tonight is no different. The elf’s words are steady but his eyes shake madly in their sockets, never landing on either of them for too long. 

It’s not exactly surprising. It’s an open secret as to the nature of those who dwell here. Whispers of power, blood and darkness float throughout all of Baldur’s Gate and beyond, working their way into every rotted inn and polished mansion. If the palace is where this elf has ended up then all brighter roads had obviously crumbled under his feet.

She keeps her gaze fixed just over the elf’s head to the door as he continues- something about debts or an ongoing feud. He could have come with tales of great gold dragons circling the palace or a portal ripped open at the centre of the city and she still doubts it would be enough to cause her expression to break. Astarion’s either.

There’s the tiniest sigh from his lips and she instantly draws her gaze back to the pale sweep of his profile. She’d call him beautiful but the word doesn’t taste right when she’s used it to describe the same perfection for Gods-knows how many years now. The only change is the colour of his clothes. Today’s ensemble is wrapped by two grand peacocks, immaculately stitched in scarlet and black. She can’t even say that it’s one of the more resplendent outfits when every garment in his wardrobe is equally fine.

Her own dress matches - naturally.

It only takes a few more seconds before he slightly raises his index finger. The signal that this conversation is decidedly over.

She’s on the elf instantly, her hand slamming clean through his chest to the other side. The rest of his sentence gargles in his throat and his body crumples to the floor in a pathetic heap. Blood pools sticky and savoury from the wound until there’s an almost perfect disc reddening the tiles. Her stomach clenches at the scent. Hunger, ravenous as an unquelled blaze snarls within but she resists the urge to feast. She stares at the gore dripping down her arm instead as she catches her breath.

Astarion’s feet are silent behind her but she sees him approaching in the blood, his own eyes fixed to the spot where her reflection should be.

“Slower than usual. You haven’t been eating,” he comments dryly. It’s not a question.

She keeps staring at her wet hand. It quivers at her overwhelming urge to suck it clean and then the floor. 

“I will when you do. I’m not hungry,” she answers without turning to him. They both know it’s a poor lie. She’d been in a constant state of starving since the second she opened newly reddened eyes, something she’d never quite acclimatised to.

He raises her stained hand to his lips and licks a stripe from her palm to her wrist. He doesn’t tear his eyes from hers as he audibly swallows. She does too but for a decidedly hotter reason.

“Not the finest fare I will admit but it’s better than hunting for whatever wastes are wandering the lower city,” he says calmly, a red drop staining the corner of his mouth like a bloody kiss. “And you know I’d never let that dreck anywhere near your lips.” 

Some nameless spawn shuffles forward and drags the body back into the shadows, their gifted feast for the night. 

Her eyes stay fixed to the smear. She wants to lick it. She wants to bite his lip and taste him properly, drink something that sings for her, something to drown the other thoughts forever clawing at the flat wall of nothingness wrapped around her mind.

His fingers flex harder around her wrist. “What’s the matter?”

She sighs - the question with a thousand answers, and so many of them so so stupid. She wants to leave and see every corner of this Gods-forsaken continent. She wants to stay and never leave their bedchamber. She wants to feast until she rips apart at the seams. She wants to starve and see how far she can push herself as a spawn. She wants more. 

She holds his gaze, waiting for him to relent. 

Above it all, she wants one thing. The one thing that’s slowly pushing her to dull foggy madness as she waits.

“It’s nothing,” she answers softly. She doesn’t want to have this fight again and she’s fairly certain she doesn’t need to answer anyway. His stare is so intense she’s sure it can see through to the very back of her skull. His own expression is as impassive as an ivory mask, perfectly carved and cool. What she’d give to crack through and unspool that beautiful, maniacal mind and understand his whims for just a moment. She’s sure she could once upon a time- a lifetime ago, perhaps when the word lifetime actually meant something.

His tongue suddenly flicks out and catches the drop at the corner of his mouth. Her own tongue mimics the movement behind her teeth, a jealous breath rushing from her nose. She isn’t sure how long it’s been since he’s actually touched her-  perhaps days. Maybe months. She can’t quite remember the number of moons she’d watched rise and fall from the balcony, throwing a dagger in the air and catching it bladeside again and again until it finally left a scar. 

He slides his free hand up her neck and cups the side of her face. “Perhaps I’ve been neglecting you of late,” he murmurs, lightly tracing the contour of her jaw, then her ear until she shivers slightly. It’s a small thing- the sweet reminder of exactly who she is to him. 

His right hand. His treasure. His precious thing. 

She remembers the first time someone had dared question that fact, years back. She’d heard the whisper from the dark of their library- a jovial tone and one far too warm for these halls.

“I guess there’s no thinking blood required, eh?”

She’d ripped the head from the spawn’s shoulders and tossed it towards another before the words had cooled in the air. She almost wishes it was the only time.

He tugs her towards the door, the lights snuffing out with every step as they go. “Come.”

He leads them to the other end of the palace and into her bedchamber. Their bedchamber really though she can’t recall the last time he’d used it… or slept at all. To be fair she hadn’t for at least a few days, exhaustion just another pain she’s found she can put up with.

The room is grand but mostly empty save for the ridiculously huge bed he’d had installed. He’d clawed away anything in the palace left by its former master, even his name forbidden to be said aloud. She’d seen all too many messes left smeared for days on the new carpets when anyone had forgotten that particular rule- a warning few had forgotten since.

Besides a few drapes the only thing she’d added was a painting, the one staring down like a great round eye opposite the bed. Both of them had been captured in a similar pose to when they'd received their unfortunate guest- pale faces stark against the dark backdrop, his hand resting over hers. It's her only real reminder of how she looks or at least some overpaid artist's interpretation of her. She’s as beautiful as temptation itself but it’s hard to imagine such grandeur when her face hardly feels the same. She’ll never age, never wrinkle or shrink but it’s like she can still feel the hands of time slowly pulling more of her away under her skin.

He closes the door and then the distance between them. Even at the same height he still seems to tower over her into infinity like some dark God. She can’t remember if she had any faith before this, but there can’t have been a being divine or otherwise that she’d loved with such fervour. Worshipping with bloody hands and eager parched lips.

“No audience here. Now-” He tilts her chin up, his thumb resting against her bottom lip. “Tell me what you want.”

She feels a lie rolling on her tongue but she can’t quite spit it out. “You know what I want.”

“Say it.”

“Make me a true vampire.”

He releases her face, shaking his head. “Gods. This again.” He doesn’t seem as irked as the last time she’d pressed this, but her gut still twists when he turns away. It’s the same cool brush off as always, the way one would to an errant pet that’s not quite trained yet.

“I really didn’t want to discuss this now,” she admits quietly. Last time her frustration had gotten so loud she’s surprised her voice hadn’t cracked the windows. 

Her fist had instead after he’d stalked away from that conversation.

She takes a risk, palming a hand to his shoulder and slowly turning him back around. “I know you promised. It’s just been so long,” she starts carefully, keeping her eyes to his chest. She cups his other shoulder when he doesn’t pull away, letting herself feel the strength hidden under the dark cloth. “I want to be stronger. For both of us.”

It’s a half truth. She does want it for them- the power being full vampire would give her coupled with his extra gifts would be everything. They could take more, do more, finally see more of the world in bright and dazzling splendour. 

Her lip quirks up at the thought. Perhaps even feel more too.

He sighs and runs his finger over the crest of her hand. “Your strength is already quite the feat to behold. You change any more and you might destroy a wall.” He holds it firm as she starts to step away, his chuckle soft.

“I said that I will. You know that I will. But the timing has to be perfect.” He brushes a stray hair away from her face, winding it around his finger and letting it fall back against her shoulder. “You’ve tasted me enough, you must know being sired by the Ascendent will take a little more preparation than your standard vampire. But when I do, I’ll be able to give you so much more, more than you even have now.” His hand leaves hers to grasp her chin, fingers lightly pressing into both cheeks until she’s pinned under his gaze. “I’ll not waste such a gift on any regular night. It requires proper celebration. And time.” He leans in until each word kisses over her lips in a long low whisper. “Time for me to properly indulge you. Pleasure upon pleasure upon pleasure.”

It’s a heady promise and one she’s heard before. That doesn’t stop it being so easy to let herself sink into the words - the sweetness of such a beautiful tale. 

She closes her eyes, waiting for his kiss. 

He chuckles again when she finally opens them, his smirk perfectly pointed. 

“Until then, you still share in immortality with me. So tell me, what else can I possibly give to you?” He squeezes her face again before releasing her. 

She rubs her cheeks. “You have so many other spawn. They all share it too.”

His hand lashes out and grabs her wrist, a little harder this time. “All this time and you still believe you’re just some spawn? Like the rest of them?” He jerks her closer, folding her into the circle of his arms until their bodies rock together with her every breath. “How many times must we go through this?” 

She clings to the sides of his jacket, pressing back harder.

“Have I extended any of my talents to anyone else?” 

She shakes her head.

“Do I make you do such grunt work?”

“No, but-”

“Then how can you possibly think you’re the same?”

Her answering protest vanishes as he slips a hand under the back of her dress. He curls his fingers over the skin of her waist, cradling her in a way that has something prodding below the surface of her mind, smudged memories too worn to pull into focus.

“You will always be my first. My first spawn. My first thinking blood. The first person I told everything to.” He lightly scrapes his teeth down her neck until she shudders in his arms, the memory quickly disintegrating. “200 years of nothing and I finally had something that was mine. No power on this or any plane is going to take that away from me.” 

He tilts her head back and finally crashes their lips together in a firm, desperate kiss. It’s as messy as a storm - every movement taking more like he’s drawing the remaining life from inside her. She can taste the wine on his breath, the blood on his teeth- tart and rich and maddening. 

Something stirs within her again, something larger and familiar. Even under the fog, she has what feels like aeons of love for this man inside, swelling and gnawing, threatening to burst and consume her whole with its painful teeth. It’s the only feeling she can fathom with any clarity, equal parts sin and sanctity.

 She holds him, her arms clamping round his middle with all the strength she can muster. 

She’d be less than nothing without it, drained to dust. So she’ll let herself be devoured by the pleasures of hell’s flames with a smile on her face and tears on her cheeks.

“You could have anyone,” she breathes against his lips.

She yelps as his hand digs into her thigh and roughly hitches it to his hip.

“I want you,” he murmurs, kissing her again. Satisfaction blooms under her skin as he opens his mouth, her body already on fire for him. She knows it. Of course she knows it. She wanted to hear him say it, hear the words as sweet as a siren’s trill to drag her back to the present.

“But perhaps you need reminding.” He pushes her until the backs of her knees hit the bed. “I will see you living the best life. Even if you won’t take care of yourself, I’m not letting either of us go hungry.” His fingers brush from her face down to her chest, blood from that elf still shining against the fine material. He pinches the fabric and tugs, red smearing over his thumb. 

“What a mess,” he observes quietly.

Before she can apologise, he grabs two fistfuls of the fabric and pulls, tearing it and her undershirt apart until she’s all but nude before him. He turns her and pulls the remains of her outfit from her body, pressing his hand against her bare stomach so her back curves against him. She shivers slightly as his fingers rip through the seams of her underwear and leave her fully naked. He sweeps his hand up over the curves of her torso and slips his thumb into her mouth, the cool taste of the elf’s blood igniting the fires in her stomach.

Her restraint snaps immediately and she sucks, desperate for more. She moans as he adds a second coated finger, the frustration in her gut only matched by the one growing hot and frenzied between her legs.

“That’s it,” he says quietly as she licks them clean. “Don’t deny me. Don’t deny what you are.”

His hand moves from her lips until she feels it close around the sides of her throat, his thumb resting over the twin scars there. Their matching pair he’d said when she’d awoken that first day. She can’t see it in a mirror but she can feel it, still aching like it’s a fresh wet wound.

He touches his mouth to her ear. “No more doubts. You are mine. Say it.”

Her words dry to a sigh as his thumbnail scratches across the hollow of her throat.

He squeezes harder at her silence until she throws her head back against his shoulder.

“Say it.”

“Yours,” she gasps out.

His other hand wanders down her body to cup her breast and she arches into his touch. 

“That’s better,” he whispers, rolling her nipple between his fingers until she keens softly. He pinches harder, drawing a louder gasp, her back slamming back against his torso. 

She presses her free hand to her neck so their joint touch encircles her throat in a makeshift collar. His smile grows against her ear. 

They both know it'll only ever be a symbol. She’ll bow her neck for one without him even having to say, but it’s so much more for him to not need to. Where could she ever run to where he wouldn’t find her? 

Bound in blood and flesh for eternity.

He brushes his mouth down to the base of her neck and bites down hard. White hot pain melts into pleasure as he does it again, his tongue laving over the fresh marks. She moans and grabs the back of his head to press him down harder. The caress of his lips, his tongue- it’s her bloody paradise. She barely registers his hand move from her neck and down over her stomach, seeking its prize. 

He cups her between the legs and her mind starts to spin. He spreads her, her breath hissing between her teeth as he fingers tease a familiar path through her folds, so achingly close to where she needs to be touched.

He holds her upright as he pulls off her neck, kissing the shell of her ear. “Delicious.”

She presses down, grinding her clit against the heat of his palm. He’d mastered the command of her body long ago, what it takes to make her beg, gasp, to drown out any needless thoughts in red wet screams. 

He spins her round, one hand sliding up her spine and leaning her backwards. He lowers his mouth just below her collarbone, lips and teeth dragging further down until he bites again over the swell of her left breast. She moans again at the sensation as his tongue traces over the wound and then against her nipple in a slow circle.

She sees the blood smeared like rouge on his lips as he lifts his head. A beautiful colour. Their colour.

She isn’t sure the last time she hasn’t thought about her life in shades of red: dripping from her hands, hot in her mouth, shining sharp and violent in his eyes.

She looks down at those same eyes now, burning intensely as he works her.

There’s an image she hasn’t been able to get out of her mind for a while, more faded than a dream. She’s sure they were softer once, rich like apple skin, fresh as autumn hues. Now if she stares too long it feels like she’s looking down the lit barrel of a cannon. 

There are other moments too, touches that almost felt tender, maybe even unsure. They’re all wrapped in his same face but somehow different. Different enough for her to wonder if the man she knew before the ascension was even real or just another mask. One he could finally drop when she let 7000 souls burn through her eyes.

She pushes the thought away, angry it could still worm its way back to her when she’s in his arms. She could live long enough to watch the oceans boil and the skies crash down and she’d still stand steadfast as bedrock knowing that she’d never have made any other choice. 

She cradles the back of his head, keeping his lips right above her cold silent heart.

Of course she’d burn the world if it kept him safe. And she’ll stand next to him as king of the ashes knowing there’s nowhere else where her broken parts would ever feel even close to whole.  

A sliver of moonlight cuts through the curtains and over the portrait in front of them. The lacquer shines coldly, Astarion’s painted eyes staring at their bloody pleasure with the unyielding intensity of the sun. The eyes of a killer to so many fools, too scared to look past their scorching surface. She knows better. Knows that the true eyes of a killer watch from next to him, as flat and dull as a red sheet. Numb. Trained. Obedient.

He softly bites her nipple and her fingers tighten in his hair. “Please.”

He languidly moves on to her other breast, sucking and nipping in a sharp tease.

She tugs harder. “Gods, please.”

He lifts off of her with a sinfully wet noise. “You know as well as I that the Gods fear to tread these halls. Not even the divine would dare intrude on a night like this.” He kisses the tip of her nipple, dragging his lips down over the new fresh marks until she groans and shivers. “So, who’s name should you be saying?”

Her hips rock against nothing but cold air. Gods she needs to feel him. Feel something.

“Astarion,” she cries.

He nips harder and pushes her onto the bed below. 

She slides up the sheets, blood from her last meal still splattered around her like a handful of rose petals on the silk. He ignores it, roughly pushing her thighs apart and licking one firm stroke through her folds until her hips arch off the mattress. He does it again, then again, lingering against her clit before twisting and biting the soft flesh of her inner thigh. 

She cries out again. She isn’t sure how many more places he can mark her before she all but melts away from this reality.

She lifts herself onto her forearms as he spreads her wider, swallowing another embarrassingly loud noise as he tongue dips inside her with a shallow thrust. Blood beads from the fresh bite and trickles down the slope of her leg, heading towards his shoulder.

She quickly pulls her thighs away and scrambles towards him.

“Wait.” She wipes his mouth when he looks up, then unlaces his shirt as carefully as she can. His trousers follow so she can finally see him. All of him. 

“Better,” she breathes, tracing the slope of his shoulder. He catches her hand before it can go any further and turns it slowly between his fingers. She expects him to bite again. Her wrist is already dotted with so many tiny marks that she isn’t sure there’s any virgin skin left to taste. The ghost of a blush runs through her instead as he skims his lips from her forearm to her palm, scraping the skin but not letting it break. 

Through half-open eyes she quickly catches his, the way they study the veins on her wrist like the secret to the universe is tangled in them. They’re open wider now, like some gaping red maw. It’s so much. Too much. She blinks and the look is gone, his eyes now closed and his mouth back on hers.

He pushes her down onto the bed and climbs over her. She grabs the back of his head but he quickly pulls her hands away, pinning them above her. She doesn’t resist, letting herself be claimed again as he pushes inside. 

Gods, she needed this. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be wrapped up in darkness and in him. She hooks her feet around the small of his back to pull him deeper, revelling in every near silent breath he pants against her ear. 

He sets their pace. Fast. Fucking her into the mattress below until she’s crying out his name with every precise movement. She gives back in kind, thrusting with him until he finally  releases her wrists to find better purchase by her head. She immediately grabs his back, one hand sliding down and stroking over the familiar ridges of his scars. It’s a jagged reminder of the past, one he refuses to speak of again. As cold as it sounds in her head, she knows why he doesn’t. What power could truly be so impenetrable if people knew he could feel pain once, fear- terror even.

So it stays locked away behind both their mouths, same as anything that ever brought them such sadness. His own kindness in a way, she reasons. Why exhume those parts of the past when they’re much better off laying with the rest of her mortal affairs. Buried.

He moves harder and her nails dig in. She hopes they leave marks, scarlet crescents sore enough that he might feel how deep her own claim to him runs.

She tightens around him, desperate to come. Desperate to pull him with her too. But he stops suddenly, letting her waver on the very edge of that little death. It feels like she’s dancing on some taught cusp, pulled so tight like a bow string and begging to be released.

She reaches down to touch herself but he grabs her hand again. 

“Bad girl,” he whispers in a tone so low it almost pushes her over that edge. He flips her over, clamping his hands over her hips as he pushes back inside. He wastes no time setting a faster rhythm, ramming into her mercilessly until she’s screaming into the silks below, loud enough to drown her doubt and that of every wretched spawn in this place. It’ll only be her. Forever.

His fingers dig in hard enough that she knows there will be a pretty set of inky marks there, painful to the touch for days. The hurt doesn’t matter anyway- not when she knows what true torture feels like. She can still remember the night she was changed, perhaps more vividly than anything else. The way her body snapped and convulsed as every part of her died and then roughly reshaped into something new. Something that was his.

“He’ll ruin you.” 

The warning calls from somewhere dusty in the back of her mind. She can’t quite place where it came from. Probably the same closed door where every half faded image and whispered concern hid and occasionally slipped through when her nights alone were so utterly silent she could almost hear her brain churning. There’s a shadow of a half elf’s face, mismatched eyes, the fading melody of a wizard’s warning. She can’t grab them and pull them into focus, the words buried too far below the surface of her mind. 

She turns her face into the silks as if she could rub the thought away. Perhaps she’s scared to dig too deep and remember what it is she might have wanted before every moment was about their shared dream. Bright and bloody and beautiful.

Astarion’s hand finds her clit and everything else melts away. There’s nothing else now, just their sweat on the sheets and the discordant slap of his body on hers.

So let them sin, feast, burn. She’s already ruined anyway - punctured with so many holes that whatever there was of her mortal life had trickled out long ago.

She finally comes against his hand and collapses in a sticky, spent heap under him. He slowly traces his finger down the length of her spine as she catches her breath, every inch of her body heavy and useless. She barely registers herself being heaved into his lap, her head falling against his shoulder with a gentle thud. 

The haze of her orgasm parts a little when she smells something fresh above her. Blood, his blood. It starts to drip in a slow mess over her mouth like thick hot rain. Her body moves on pure instinct, surging up to clamp down on his cut forearm, but he holds her steady by her hair. She swallows the offering, her hunger only growing at the tease of something so decadent. He guides her head back further, letting a few more drops fall messily over her face before finally lowering it to her waiting mouth. 

He doesn’t flinch as she drinks desperately. It’s exquisite, like cool wine to her parched throat. She’s sure she could drink him dry or until her stomach bursts open and she’d still not be satisfied. She sucks harder, flitting her gaze up to his as he watches with clear amusement. There’s still one more thing she wants. One thing she’s not sure he’d ever let her do even if she still had a soul to offer him. She wants to sink her own fangs into his neck, the one place she never has. She wants to cover those ugly punctures just for her own pleasure. 

“I love you,” she whispers as he pulls back. It might be these moments when such love swells the most: clothes shed, scratches still fresh on his skin, hair curling out of place against his forehead- a reminder that the ritual can’t keep him quite so perfect for every moment of forever.

He wipes the remaining blood from her lips, his thumb resting there a moment longer. “And I adore you, terribly.”

She narrows her eyes and digs her nails in harder, enough to draw blood. “Say it properly. Say it.”

He raises an eyebrow, but his smile doesn’t waver. He presses his arms back to her mouth, squeezing the back of her head as she sucks again. “I love you.”

She bites down harder at the words. They’re what she wants and yet she doesn’t understand why it doesn’t feel like enough. The fog in her mind clears a little as her hunger quietens but she can’t think of even a moment when something was enough for either of them. They have almost everything this realm could offer and it still feels the same. 

How big will the pile of gold and corpses need to be before either of them can remember what joy actually tastes like?

He pulls his arms away and kisses her again, slower this time. She keeps her eyes closed as he stops, trying to centre herself.

“Are we bad people?” she murmurs.

He drops her from his lap, eyeing her curiously. “My, what a question.” He looks past her to the mirror on the bedside table, brushing his fingers through the mess she’d made of his hair. “Good and bad are such trivial concepts to us. Darling, you need to think bigger than that. We are everything. Beyond such unimaginative definitions.”

“Right.” She pulls the sheet over her torso. The room feels colder somehow, like the darkness itself is judging her nakedness. 

“None of that,” he says, rubbing her cheek. “Besides, thanks to me you’ve become one of the finest killers, dead or alive. Nothing can stand in our way.”

“The only one who could kill you I suppose,” she mumbles, leaning into the touch.

He quickly nips her chin, then her throat. “Oh my love. Now that’s something I’d like to see.” He pushes her back down and crawls over her, sliding his hands over both of hers. “So tell me, how would you do it? How would you defeat the most powerful being alive?”

“Who else could get close enough?” She leans up and kisses directly over his heart. “One thrust with the right weapon is all it would take.” 

“And then what would you do? You’re mine- always.” He moves a fraction more until his legs trap her thighs, the hands so gently wrapped around hers now pinning them into the mattress. “No direction. No love. No power. Without me your life would be a shadowed path. Pure nothingness.” Every word wraps around her like velvet, his hands the softest chains she could be caught in. “You must know it hurts me to even think of you like that,” he continues, dipping down and running his nose against hers.

He squeezes her hands harder as he does, walking her along the very edge of pain before letting go. She flexes her limbs slightly, letting the soreness settle along with her mind.

He kisses her forehead, each wrist then her lips again. “But we need not worry about such awful things.”

She cradles the back of his neck, idly wondering just how hard she’d have to press to snap it. “Of course not.”

His eyes drift up and down her body as she answers, before his hand works its way between her legs again. She lets him, her hips bucking with needle-sharp pleasure as he presses against her over-sensitive clit. 

“Until the world falls down,” she says, throwing her head back and grinding her core against his fingers. 

He leans forward and muffles her exhausted moans with shining, brazen lips. “And even after that.”

Perhaps that’s how long eternity is, she thinks and surrenders herself to him again.

It’s almost dawn when he rolls away from her. He leaves a promise of tonight against her shoulder as she stares at the ceiling, thinking in circles. 

One day, when she finally drives a stake through his chest, she’ll weep. He’s more than everything to her, his arms as tight as a cage, as comforting as salvation. The only person with a heart as black and silent as hers and yet she’d still rip it out and give it to him on a sharpened skewer if he asked. 

It’ll break her, but it's still her task and hers alone. One she can do with deliberate and devoted hands, away from any angry mob or pack of ravenous spawn.

She surges up and captures his lips before he goes, kissing with every ounce of passion still warm inside her.

Until then they’ll stay like this, wrapped and writhing in bloody matrimony. Frozen. Perfect.

Red.

***

I'm mainly bummed I couldn't work out a way to get him to turn into a bat during this. Perhaps another time...

[blorbologist]

Architect of our demise: Chapter 5

Scheduling, chores, and discussions of religious desecration over black coffee. Such is the routine aboard a skyship.

The Grey Huntress sighs, as if in awe of the proceedings. The floor tilts beneath their feet as she rocks in the wind.

Percival knots his fingers together. He would like to think about this. He probably does not have nearly as much time to think as much as he would like. Not just yet, with Vex’ahlia watching him in the low light. Despite how still she stands her chest trembles and heaves in turn - trying desperately to keep a lid on her emotions. 

He gives himself until she’s evened out her breathing. Perilous little time, but enough to get to the heart of the issue:

“So,” he says. Her ears twitch. “This is… a lot.”

Vex’ahlia croaks a laugh. “You’re telling me.”

There are so many questions to ask. But Percival has enough tact to know he can only offer a few before she walls up this wound again. Best avoid the painful bits and stick to business.

(Why? Did the ritual go wrong? Why? So she’s over a hundred years old? Why? Is her bond to death strengthened by their relationship? Why? Why achieve godhood only to want to revoke it?)

“If I am, ah, understanding you correctly: you stuck close to me in the hopes I would know how you could undo the Reaper - your brother’s godhood?” She nods. “Without… wiping him from reality, as the ritual did to his predecessor?” Another nod. “And, hm. Putting him in an aeormaton?”

This time she shrugs. “I mean? Not necessarily,” she says. Her voice is weaker than she’d like; it comes out stronger as she continues: “I just want him back. And - well, his body is… a whole thing. So that makes more sense.

“And I understand,” she’s quick to add, “if - you said it can’t be done. Couldn’t, with your family.”

But the god of death is not dead. 

But the god of death is not a nobody, a soul like no other. 

Her optimism is sensible. But Percival keeps himself from flinching nonetheless. 

And yet - and yet! Sore as he may be, he is wired, humming with energy so vicious he might shock himself. Without a spark of magic he carved enchantment into being, leylines writ small. He, a mortal man, is creator of thousands, made not by messy biology or unknowable divinity but his own hand. Five names, a list of people too powerful to touch, and he had killed four and ensured no mage would ever feel so untouchable again.

What would the world look like, without a deity to mind death? Unshackled from fate? What if the Reaper Prince’s iron grip on his loom, cutting frayed threads, was not there to deny his family’s return? 

There is the one snag of his entire laboratory having gone up in smoke. And that he failed, before. But science is a ladder; perhaps this was the one wrung missing to reach his family’s hands and pull them out of the heavens.

They’ve been in the ship’s hold for a time, now. The thought of leaving the wheel unattended unsettles him; Percival stands, brushing dust and metal shavings from his coat. Some sticks. Ugh, he’d forgotten about the blood.

“... I can’t give you an answer just yet.” It comes out more gently than expected. “However, it’s - frankly, this is too tantalizing a prospect to not consider. Will he - the Warden of Ravens - try to stop you? Stop this?”

“I don’t know. But I know him - I know him,” she insists. “He won’t help, because he’s - such a dutiful shit about things. But I have to try.”

He understands that perfectly well.

Prologue | Keep reading on AO3!

[ashesandhackles]

Fic recs

Other Women and of Purer Blood by @saintsenara

Summary: Narcissa is adrift, rattling around Malfoy Manor, when an equally lonely man comes into her lonely life.

Thoughts: I have been wanting a story that contextualises the sexual charge and familiarity we see between Snape and Narcissa in Spinner's End for ages (canon compliant, that is) and this story is a lovely backstory to that. It also captures Snape in transition: Snape still ironing out his northern accent, how his movements are still spider-like. He is in the process of becoming the adult Snape we see in canon: whose speeches are a performance, and how he irons out the awkwardness of his movements in adulthood.

Excerpt:

Snape looks completely wrong in the flowery bower where Dobby has set out tea. His sallow awkwardness seems to repel the summer, even though Narcissa suspects he must be baking in his layers of shabby black robes. 

He doesn’t have the fine manners of the sort of person who normally comes to tea with the Malfoys. He eats quickly, and slurps his tea, and looks at the cakes with the greedy eyes of a boy who isn’t used to treats. Lucius would be disgusted, to have a greasy half-blood at his table spraying crumbs everywhere. She imagines the expression of horrified confusion on his pointy face and giggles.

Snape immediately goes scarlet and puts down his tea-cup.

In Infinite Remorse of Soul by @perverse-idyll

Summary: Albus Dumbledore never makes the same mistake twice. Certainly not in love.

Thoughts: My very first Snumbledore, which is a frightening meditation on the very vast power dynamics between Snape and Dumbledore from the hilltop scene in Deathly Hallows and expanding the very personal reaction Dumbledore had towards the wayward young Death Eater. Perverse Idyll is among the best writers in the fandom, brimming with words and fantastic imagery that just stays with you.

Excerpt:

"My boy," Albus says almost kindly, because kindness is something that mystifies his young servant. Severus' eyes dart upwards, apprehensive, accusing, and Albus can see the darkness inside the boy clawing to reach him. Guilt calling to guilt.

The moment quivers and thins until he judges that Severus has had enough and is about to rebel. A harsh rasp draws his attention. He looks down at the bruised, blackened fingernail scraping across stone.

"My boy," he sighs. "You never fail to disgust me."

The ritual word strikes Severus down. His obstinate body shrinks, wings of hair flapping forward to shut his scowling face from view.

To Build A Home by @mblematic

Summary: 1978-1981: Sirius stumbles on something in the woods, Sirius and Remus stumble into each other, everyone stumbles into the war.

Thoughts: First War hijinks, dysfunctional Wolfstar - I was fed! I cannot rave enough about the gorgeous, subtle writing of relationships (the author really captures this raw, visceral vulnerability between two friends who are attracted to each other and how it explodes in heightened tension of war) and there is some fantastic world building and mirroring. Excerpt: Later, Sirius would remember almost everything from this night with crystal clarity except the sky, which in reality was clouded but in his memory would be open, star-studded, expansive and unknowable as the future. He’d remember, correctly, that the wolf was different than it had been at Hogwarts. He’d remember the restless, brutal, snarling fury, all of it undercut with a fear so intense it had its own meaty weight. The night took Sirius by surprise and he spent the whole long stretch of it trying to put himself back on track, trying to reacquaint himself with the wolf, and trying to convince them both that they remembered each other. At one point he found himself literally between Remus’ jaws, helpless and pliant, mewling like a supplicant. This, too, he would remember for the rest of his life. 

Second Life by Cassandra, nwhiker Summary: What happens when two men are given a second chance.

Thoughts: I finally got around to reading one of the most recommended Snirius fics out there. Beautiful, understated, deeply emotional - the authors take you on a journey with the two of them post war. It also feels....old?? As in, the kind of perspective this fic has is the perspective of someone in late 30s (which both Snape and Sirius are in this fic, post war). There is a fragile, "who else will understand what our generation went through?" running through the vein of this fic.

Excerpt:

It was like walking into a tiny garden in the tropics, and he was reminded of some of the places he'd visited while on the run after his escape from Azkaban. There were hundreds of plants, most of them unfamiliar, and a large table was filled with orchids. There was a tree, which turned out to be a frangipani, its white flowers soft and sweet. A delicate white flower with an exquisite fragrance that Snape said was bouvardia. Along one wall were plants Sirius recognised from Potions classes, wolfsbane and asphodel, wormwood and sopohorous, a shrivelfig tree, and others he'd seen but didn't know the names of.

"I'm not supposed to have them," Snape said.

Sirius turned to him. Snape was staring down an orchid, brushing planting mix from the edge of its pot.

Al Aaraaf by eldritcher

Summary: There is a place between heaven and hell.

Thoughts: An unsettling, poetic horror fic featuring a grieving Walburga Black. The whole fic is structured like a poem, with rhythm and repetition and metaphor shining through.

Excerpt:

He had her face. He had her scowl. He had her loathsome, loathing heart that mourned and loved. Hell dwelled in him, as a warm and heartful thing calved of mother.

The last of earth's make she held was son. His hands were placed in prayerful clasp over her belly.

The lamb in her was of Tartary, born of son fed and killed with milk and honey, birthed of widow's mourning.

"It is all right," Sirius said, and held her to him as if she weren't damned.

Runaway Boys by Delphi

Summary: Severus dreams of pirates, and Lily closes the nursery window. Thoughts: I'm not sure if I have recommended this fic before, but I am recommending it again, just in case. This is a wonderfully strange coming of age, a tale of puberty told in dreams/ fantasies featuring Snape and Captain Hook. Excerpt:

"Severus S—" He cuts himself off and then tentatively amends: "Prince. Severus Prince."

It's a better name, he's decided. His new friends at school know the Princes, but they've never heard of any Snapes.

"That is a fine name, Mr. Prince," the man says. "As for me, I am Captain James Hook."

A large hand extends into the branches, and after a moment, Severus carefully leans down and shakes it.

"Pleased to meet you," Severus says.

"Are those friends of yours?" the captain asks, nodding towards the neighbouring island, where the boys are now riding wild ponies bareback, jousting with each other using lances made of hollow reeds.

Severus shrugs. Of course, he thinks, the man would rather know them.

Note: Please check the pairings and tags in each of these fics and keep in mind your own triggers :)

[cake-warlock]

Because I’m ADDICTED to happy endings, and the idea of Astarion outliving Prunella is depressing as hell (while at the same time I think vampires are too cool to want to make him fully mortal again in my own personal headcanon), I’ve been musing on alternative solutions.

This one somewhat spins off of a previous post that I reblogged and commented on. Astarion says he prayed to every god he could think to, and none of them answered.

But what if one did?

Say, about sixty years before the nautiloid, Cazador creates the final spawn for his “family”, a gnome named Yousen. Astarion hears Yousen pray to the Gnomefather, Garl Glittergold, one night for salvation, and despite his…distaste for gnomes thinks “fuck it, may as well try.” So he prays too, and Garl hears them. The problem is, Garl is a god of jokes and trickery as well as benevolence and protection, and what would be more ironic than sending Astarion a gnomish savior?

And so Prunella Goldenberry is born, unknowing that her fate has been touched by a god. And she did grow up to embody many of his domains: a bard of heroism whose primary weapon was her wit.

And then perhaps some years after the events of BG3, when Astarion and Pru are adventurers, Garl himself approaches them and offers her a deal: as long as she acts as his emissary in Torril and beyond, doing his bidding when he needs, he will continue to extend her lifespan. Astarion is…hesitant to have his lover offering her fealty up to some god, but ultimately agrees. And so they get to be two travelers out of time who get to hop from realm to realm, occasionally running errands for a god for as long as they choose.

[sansaery-theonsa]

Rhaenyra x Alicent fic recommendation

This list is not final and will be updated. i read many good ones (and some of them you guys sent me!!) but this few are the ones i found on AO3 and not here and decided to share

ps many of this stories are 18+ , I haven't written which one id what but the authors did so check notes

Paltry is the passion that never makes us shudder by WhimperSoldier (finished - 1/1)

It was painful, but only at first, then it was peaceful, even when armored men and unfamiliar Targaryens poured forth to gawk at her. They all wore unfamiliar faces, and looked on with unknowing eyes. Had this been what Rhaenyra had felt in those last moments, as she stared into the maw of Sunfyre and was only watched by the twisted snears of those who hated her?

She let her head slip back and the sunset had the shimmer of Syrax's scales and with her final breath gave a soft dracrarys and imagined the dragon's mouth pouring forth fire to cleanse her clean. She was the Mad Queen of Megor's Holdfast, and she would not give them the satisfaction. Red, red, red staining the bark so that one couldn't distinguish the leaves from the roots.

Then with a painful jerk, as if she were ripped free from her skin, she woke with a shout.

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A wedding of fire and blood - By hagtower on Ao3 (finished 7/7)

Before Alicent realized what she was doing, before she heard the shouts commanding her to stop, to put the knife down, she’d grabbed the very same dagger that had pierced her son in the face and gracefully marched toward Rhaenyra, every unshed tear that had threatened to fall finally cascading down her face like a raindrop on a glass window.

or; a story of old friend's reconciling and mending what once was due to ... a mere accident.

(A/N: The premise of this fic is essentially Rhaenyra not having been pierced by Valyrian steel yet (although we see it later in the episode when Rhaneyra traditionally marries Daemon) and someone points out that now, Rhaenyra and Alicent are technically engaged. They both agree (begrudgingly of course) and chaos will ensue in the coming chapters.)

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You Broke Me by skullgamerscy (updating/unfinished)

“Hate.” She mutters looking up from her hands to Alicent. “I could never hate you Alicent. No matter how hard I try I could never hate you.”

“Then why-“

“You really don’t know.” Rhaenyra stops Alicent question. If they are going to have this talk then she is going to be the one in control. Alicent shakes her head. Clarity erupts within Rhaenyra. She had known. It was all in her head. Alicent wasn’t aware of her feelings. Alicent never felt the same way. It was just something Rhaenyra had built up on her head to make herself feel better. To assure herself that what she was feeling wasn’t wrong. “I loved you Alicent."

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we are the storm by thedevilsgarden (finished 4/4)

Summary: After the death of Aemond Targaryen, Rhaenyra ascends the throne; she and Alicent rebuild.

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you don't know what love is (if you don't put up a fight) by tansymeadows (updating/unfinished)

Rhaenyra and Alicent find solace. Or, The King lives long enough for the princess to return on dragonback and change what is to come.

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Say yes by Kacchi (finished 1/1)

Queen Aemma Arryn survives and The Dance of the Dragon never happens. Two years after the queen offers the recently widowed Alicent Hightower a post in the Red Keep, Crown Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen asks for a favor.

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This is What Love Feels Like by Kacchi (finished 1/1)

The Dance of the Dragons happens much earlier and House Velaryon ascends to the Iron Throne. Years after the war, Alicent comes to King's Landing to woo the crown prince but she ends up meeting a disgraced princess by the river instead.

***I read all of the rhaelicent works kacchi written so far and loved them all, this two just captured me the most. Here's the link to their AO3 page ***

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Right Where You Left Me by enaraux (finished 1/1)

An attempt to rekindle any remaining friendship causes a shocking revelation that neither Rhaenyra nor Alicent expected.

❛ and it's been so long, but if you ever think you got it wrong, i'm right where you left me. ❜

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The Princess's Plan by ChocolateCookieCream (unfinished/updating)

After the announcement that Alicent is to be married to her father, Rhaenyra decides to take matters into her own hands and calls Alicent to her chambers late at night. PWP. Very M-rated smut. Intersex. G!P Rhaenyra x Alicent.

A/N: THIS FIC CONTAINS EXPLICIT SMUT. RHAENYRA IN THIS FIC IS INTERSEX AND HAS A PENIS. THERE ARE SPOILERS POST-EPISODE 2 IF YOU STILL HAVE NOT SEEN THE SHOW YET. ALL CHARACTERS INVOLVED ARE OVER 18. PLEASE ENJOY!

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Ascension by teamgreen10 (finished 6/6)

What would happen if Viserys had died at that table, in the middle of the family dinner? This fic is my version of an answer to that question.

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The Heir by teamgreen10 (finished 5/5)

Alicent has always done what's expected of her. Without question, without argument. Her father always impressed upon her the necessity of perfection. Hard work, diligence, and attention to detail is what made this company successful, he says, and if Alicent intends to inherit it someday, she needs to prove herself worthy. Don't trust anyone, that's his most important rule, but above all, NEVER trust a Targaryen.

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Never Shall We Die by teamgreen10 (finished 10/10)

Following the death of the Pirate King Viserys, the council commiserates to choose their next King. Rhaenyra Targaryen, captain of the ship called Syrax, sees her opportunity to claim her father's crown as her own. And she has a plan. One so bold, none have ever tried before. A plan that involves kidnapping Governor Hightower's daughter.

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Love, Duty, and Everything Between by Autorand7291 (unfinished/updating)

An alternate retelling of the relationship between Alicent and Rhaenyra. The characters are reimagined as a little bit older at the beginning of the story. The story starts around the same time as episode 2 after Rhaenyra gets home from Dragonstone and speaks with her father. Rhaenyra runs into Alicent and cannot wait to tell her all about her run-in with Prince Daemon on Dragonstone. What would happen if a friendly nightcap caused some buried truths to come to life between lifelong friends? Would Alicent and Rhaenyra do things differently if they knew about each other's true feelings before it was too late?

Will have alternating POVs. The timeline, storyline, and ages will not adhere to the show/book canon.

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High Tower of the Dragons by ChaseAphrodite (unfinished/updating)

Fire and Blood were more than the words of the Targaryens. They were Valyria's words.And magic, especially ancient magic... It always came with a price.

Or

The accidental marriage between Lady Alicent Hightower and Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen after the Vhagar incident.

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On the mend by thedevilsgarden (finished 1/1)

When Rhaenyra first met her, Alicent was living in Oldtown, crushed under the weight of her father's thumb. (Modern AU)

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dog person by spookyscaryskeletons (Buttons15) - (finished i think 8/8)

“You’re staring.”

“Just thinking, my princess.”

Rhaenyra turned sideways, moving into a position that changed her center of balance and was twice as risky. A few centimeters to the side, Alicent could all but see it - splat on the ground. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“My thoughts are worth far more than that.”

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All you know (painting around) By violetsblackgarden (finished 3/3)

Where what you write on your skin, reflects on that of your soulmate. barista! Rhaenyra - lawyer!Alicent - Soulmates AU.

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The Rogue Princess by sapphicsmaximoff (unfinished/updating)

Once upon a time, Otto Hightower, the hand of the King, named Daemon Targaryen a 'Rogue Prince'. Some hated him, and some loved him. What the Hand hadn't expected was for Daemon's influence to leak onto his niece, Rhaenyra.

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Somewhere between Faith and Desire by Ladyamy (unfinished/updating)

When Alicent is betrothed to Rhaenyra, the friends take on the challenges of duty, love, faith, and desire.

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Kryptonite by dragondance23 (unfinished/updating) (smuth)

Alicent and Rhaenyra are high school sweet hearts now turned exes trying to be 'just friends.' It doesn't help that Rhaenyra is an newly presented alpha and Alicent is an omega. What could possibly go wrong? (The answer is that a lot could and WILL could wrong along the way)

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the knight princess and the lady of fire by violetsblackgarden (unfinished/updating)

Rhaenyra wants to be loyal, brave and protect her family and her people. All Lords are the same; heartless. All ladies are the same; empty. Or so she thought, until she saw her and her heart was set on fire. or where Rhaenyra meets Alicent for three seconds and her blood roars as its recognizes her soul mate. Obviously, she thinks she's having a heart attack.

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Figure You Out by fiefdom (unfinished-updating) - none binary Rhaenyra

Rhaenyra and Viserys haven't spoken since the death of their mother, but that doesn't mean they're about to let him marry some gold-digger half his age. They'll just have to show him that Alicent isn't as sweet, or as funny, or as charming as she seems.

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The dragon fire series by Shadysider ( 5 part series)

A new outtake on Alicient and Rhaenyra's relationship following the knife incident.

* Its just generally really good. It's wholesome, heartwarming and painfully satisfying. There's also some steamy parts as well for those who are interested in it.

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where fire and ice meet by wariangle (finished 4/4)

For almost a year, it had been thoughts of Alicent – of her scent, her smile, her care, and the secret, hidden sound she made when Rhaenyra made her come, and of forbidden fantasies of taking her to Dragonstone on Syrax’s back and marrying her in the custom of House Targaryen of old, binding themselves together with steel and blood – that had sustained her. The joy of knowing that she would return not to the childhood companion she had unwittingly lusted after for so long, but to the woman who had responded to her advances and, Rhaenyra had thought, returned her affection. She had been so very wrong.

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Wandering souls, blooming in unison by Lumyart (finished)

Rhaenyra runs to a small village to escape her obligations, hoping to find peace and calm to inspire her inner artist. Alicent has a similar idea.

There, they find their home.

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extension by thedevilsgarden (finished 1/1) - this one made me cry

The day Jace is born, Rhaenyra takes one look at his scrunched-up face, his pink mouth, and falls madly in love. But Alicent cradles him in her arms, and doesn't seem to feel a thing. (Modern Parenting AU)

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'tis the damn season by @geralehane (updating)

ex-childhood friends and almost-lovers Rhaenyra and Alicent have to reunite for Christmas at the Targaryen’s Dragonstone Manor. it goes about as well as one would think (very, in the end).

*Pure chaos , holiday warmth and daemon supremacy (literally the only version of him i ever loved).

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fill my lungs with sweetness (and fill my head with you) By barbiewrites (finished 1/1 - words 19,410)

Alicent finds, once again, that making friends is not as easy as the movies have made it seem.

* This story is *cheff kiss* 🥲🥹 its sweet, its wholesome, its awkward and honestly so SO good- and rhaenyra stans will be delighted

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silk chiffon by iwantthemtostay (finished 1/1)

Alicent’s mouth is dry and her palms are sweaty and she’s wondering if it’s still gay panic if she’s very sure she’s gay and she’s queueing for the concert of a very gay band. Aka Alicent goes to a concert (and gets the girl)

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cleopatra by dontaskmedude (finished 8/8)

But I must admit it, I would marry you in an instant - Damn your wife, I'd be your mistress just to have you around OR sometimes a family can be a lesbian, her stepdaughter, her gay husband, his lover and their eight children

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every vote counts by beepboop (permanganato) (finished 3/3)

Rhaenyra Targaryen’s campaign should be a disaster. She has a weirdly close relationship with her uncle, had an affair with Harwin Strong while married to Laenor Velaryon, dates celebrities of all genders and swears on prime-time television. She goes viral on social media, comes from old money but leads a left-leaning campaign and says the truth in interviews.

This senate race should be a slam dunk. The easiest win of Alicent’s career.

Instead, she wakes up to learn Rhaenyra is beating her father’s candidate by fifteen points in the polls.

This country is fucked.

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Let's Spend Every Year Like This by DMCMercy (finished 1/1)

Rhaenyra Targaryen spends the holiday season with the Hightowers for the first time, learning all of their quirks and traditions, with hopes to grow closer to her girlfriend's family.

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oh, and i wonder by barbiewrites (finished 1/1- 24,225 words)

rhaenyra invites alicent and her family to a week at her estate.

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In the Dragon’s Eye by Poptop1698 (unfinished/updating)

The Dance of the Dragons is over. Alicent Hightower has been confined to the holdfast, both a queen and a traitor all at once. She has been left to ponder her mistakes and failures, and according to many whispers, she is slowly going mad. One day she receives an unexpected visitor who will force her to revisit her past and her feelings for her childhood friend.

**This one is easily one of the most painful and heartbreaking fics I've read, but oh man, a part of the writer incredible writing skills, they also captured the characters so well and i feel like if something like that will happen after the dance, it will be incredibly painful and necessary in a way. a sight into rhaenyra's mind and Alicent's haunting guilt and memories. I give this one 10/10 with this emoji ❤️‍🩹

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The Affair By SquirrelThatDoesCrack (unfinished/updating)

Alicent and Rhaenyra are together, to bad Alicents husband doesn’t know

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blame it on fate By Lumyart (finished 10/10)

Hosting the country's most popular morning show together is bound to create tension in the most sweetly cruel of ways. Rhaenyra has spent the past year working by Alicent's side learning all about that - the hatred, the admiration, and the unrelenting conflicts. Alicent Hightower is running the show like a queen in her realm and for a reason that is only hers to know, she has decided to make every day of Rhaenyra's life a living nightmare. Nothing either of them has not fully incorporated into their routine by now.

However, it seems fate has a mind of its own and plans that do not always end in Alicent's control when they find themselves having to travel to Lapland for HTV's Christmas specials and spending a week basking in snow and coldhearted drama that heats up their relationship in more ways than one.

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you’ve got your demons (darlin’ they all look like me) by geralehane (finished 2/2)

Rhaenyra reincarnates, over and over again.

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grey ridge (ríl liatroma) by molter (finished 8/8)

“It’s only the first year,” Rhaenyra used to say, broken down at the breakfast table by the window in their London flat with her head in her hands. “It’ll get better, after this. We just need to right our ship.”It was loving in the beginning. (a collection of snapshots before it falls apart // a schematic of reconstruction after)

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A True Heir by Revans_Mask (finished 27/27)

When Rhaenyra Targaryen presents as an alpha, it sets in motion a chain of events that could change both her relationship with Alicent Hightower and the future of the Seven Kingdoms forever. (Or at least make a great deal of trouble for everyone involved)

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Falling From Hightower by ohsnapitzalli (38/38)

Rhaenyra is the heir to multi-billion dollar corporation - Targaryen Industries. Alicent is the daughter of the Targaryen Industries COO. They become fast friends at a young age and learn to navigate life together from high school to college to adulthood.

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pay you back by beepboop (finished 8/8)

Alicent thinks she’s met a struggling single mom out of a job. Rhaenyra thinks she’s met somebody to have some casual fun with while she worries about taking over her father’s company.

They’re both wrong, kind of.

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Sleeping Dragon by WanderingFan (finished 10/10)

Three years ago, the wicked sorcerer Otto Hightower cursed Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen to fall into a death-like slumber. Since that fateful day, Lady Alicent Hightower has toiled day and night trying to break her father’s curse. It is said that only true love’s kiss can wake the queen. Unfortunately, Alicent doesn’t believe in such silly things. Or: A Sleeping Beauty AU starring Rhaenicent.

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Not on the Last Day by Revans_Mask (finished 20/20)

But the very last. With the Seven Kingdoms on the brink of civil war, Alicent risks everything by reaching out to Rhaenyra one final time. After all the years of pain, is there still enough left of their old bond to save the realm and perhaps allow them a chance at happiness?

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Easy Lover by Smitty1314 (finished 10/10)

Alicent Hightower has just accepted a job as an assistant physio with the English National Women's football team as they prepare for the European Championships. Star recruit Rhaenyra Targaryen strikes up a friendship with the new physio as she shoulders her family legacy and strives to bring football home.

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Of Wine and Royal Cocktail by LunaLuthor98 (finished 11/11)

Alicent was one of those omegas that saw herself with the standard two story house, picket fence, two kids and a dog kind of future. Whenever she dated someone or thought of dating them, she always had to make sure they were ambitious, hard working, dedicated, compromised with a good head on their shoulders. You know someone she could have a stable future with.

And you know what? She found them or at least she thought she did.

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Fire in the Belly by Revans_Mask (finished 8/8)

Presenting as an alpha is the worst thing that could've happened to Alicent Hightower. Not only will it end her friendship with Rhaenyra, her father is going to send her far, far away in order to make sure she doesn't bring shame to the Hightower name. Unless, of course, she and Rhaenyra can find some way to to turn this to their advantage...