#no but the book says they got drunk at their feasts

[mintaikk]

Intro really out here giving us drunk Wukong

[darknight3904]

Hi! I don’t know if you take requests but I had an idea for one if you do? Aemond X reader where Aegon insults reader infront of Aemond and he stands up for reader because he has feelings for them

Thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy this one. I tried to make Aegon as gross as possible.

Reader is from House Stark in this but feel free to imagine it differently if you so choose.

Warnings: Aegon Targaryen

Insults

Aegon had never been Aemond's favorite sibling. If he had to choose, that position would've gone to Daeron who had been off in Oldtown for years now. After all, the best sibling is one that just simply doesn't bother others. Of course, Heleana was nice too, she was quiet usually in her own head. Aemond never minded sitting in silence with her while she poured over her needle work and he a good book. All he knew was that Aegon was his least favorite sibling, that was for sure.

You had been an unexpected variable in Aemond's life. His betrothal to you was unexpected and initially not welcome. Aemond hadn't been interested in marrying so young, let alone to some northern girl he'd never met. He knew what Starks were, they were stubborn and annoying, much like that Direwolf they so proudly wore. He found the sigil to be rather boring compared to his families, a dragon would always be the more impressive sigil.

He had kept his negative thoughts his entire flight to Winterfell. Vhagar had let out multiple grumbles of disapproval as the temperature dropped, she seemed to dislike snow as much as he did. His negative thoughts hung over him like a cloud as he stood in Winterfell's Great Hall. Cregan Stark had treated him with kindness and said his cousin was a "Winter Beauty." Aemond found himself rather uninterested until supper that night. In his mind what good was beauty if a person lacked brains. Aegon was proof of that. Silver hair and violet eyes only got his brother so far.

"My Prince, I hope your flight to Winterfell was easy."

Your first words to him had him entranced. He was not to be married to you for another three years yet he found himself petitioning your father to take you back to Kings Landing. A guest of the King, after all he wanted to get to know you better.

Your father had relented after you had begged him to go to the capital. Aemond had a feeling you were entranced by his looks, he could not blame you though, Targaryens were closer to gods rather than men.

He spent many moons by your side, laughing and reading. Your favorite spot turned out to be the Godswood where he ended up spending countless hours threading his thin fingers through your hair. As the days passed and bled together, Aemond found himself more and more wrapped around your finger. His eye sought you out at every formal feast his father threw, hoping you'd honor him with a dance instead of sitting beside his sister or pushing the food on your plate around.

Aemond believed every man was entitled to enjoy his nameday, that is why he was doing this. He wanted his older brother to be happy, that is why he is sitting at a huge table, piled with food for Aegon and his friends rather than at the library with you. It is for Aegon, is what his mind chants as his brother and the rest of their party become drunker as the night wears on. The feast his father had thrown was still in full swing as Aegon downed his seventh cup of wine. His father and mother departed the party early, King Viserys health was troublesome.

"Little brother, you seem rather drawn tonight," Aegon says, suddenly pointing the conversation to Aemond despite ignoring him all night.

He turns his gaze to his brother who is practically drowning in the pitcher of wine before him

"I have other matters to attend to. I don't wish to drink myself into stupor, brother." Aemond says

"Oh yes, right." Aegon smiles, " Are those other matters the Stark girl here? She does not matter. Marriage is so...droll. I only visit Heleana when I am drunk."

"I do not plan to be like that to Lady Stark," Aemond says looking at you, your mouth is pressed into a firm line and your brows furr in displeasure

Aegon lets out a mocking laugh and takes another sip of his drink. Aemond watches as his brother's hand snakes its way back to his cup.

"Why ever not? She's nothing but a walking womb for you brother, a place to carry on the Targaryen line while securing a good relationship with that Cregan fellow."

Aegon's drunken laughter fills Aemond's ears while his mind fills with rage. How dare he? He glances at you who shoots him a look of "Stay put, he's drunk,".

Aemond slams his own cup down on the table. The drink he has been nursing all night splashes out and onto the wood below. His brother's laughs fall silent as Aemond approaches him. Aegon lets out a small hiccup when his Aemond lowers himself so he's level with his pig-headed brother.

Aemond takes his brother's shirt in his hands. The material is soft in his fingers, only the best for a Targaryen Prince. He leans in so he's close enough to smell the drunkenness on his older brother's breath.

"You will never speak another word of her, do you understand?" He says, his voice dangerously low.

Aegon's friends have fallen silent as they watch the two princes stare at each other. Aegon is standing on the tips of his toes as Aemond lifts him so they're closer to eye level.

"Why? She is nothing to us. We are dragons." Aegon lets out another drunk giggle, "She is nothing but a whore."

Aemond cannot control himself anymore, red flashes before his remaining eye as he takes his arms and slams his much weaker older brother face-first into the table. He uses one arm to hold Aegon's head against the wood and the other to pull Aegon's left arm up behind his back, pinning him down.

"Aemond!"

Your voice falls on deaf ears as Aegon struggles below him. It feels good to do this to him, he has poked and teased Aemond for so many years. Aemond might've been able to let it go but bringing his betrothed, whom he had just recently come to accept his feelings for, into their feud was unacceptable.

"Prince Aemond, let him go!" A guard yells as they run towards them.

The party has fallen into a lull as the guests turn to see the two Princes fighting.

"All eyes are on us, brother," Aemond says, leaning down to speak directly into Aegon's ear

"Let me go." Aegon demands, trying to push himself up

"If you ever insult her again, I'll feed you to Vhagar."

"You wouldn't," Aegon says, still struggling under Aemond's arms

"I would. I'd even laugh when your eyes melt from their sockets as you scream for our mother." Aemond pulls his thin dagger from its sheath that stays strapped around him at all times "Do not insult her, ever."

Aegon's eyes widen when Aemond lets the dagger rest on his cheek.

"Fine! Let me up!"

Aemond relents and unhands him. The guards relax when they see Aegon unharmed.

"What are you doing?"

You are at his side immediately, grabbing his arm, ready to scold him for his actions.

"Defending your honor, my love." Aemond smiles "No one, not even my brother, will insult you when I am here."

Requests are open, you can place them in my inbox or message directly.

Main Masterlist

Want more of my writings for Aemond? Check out my Aemond series The Race.

[flippinpancakes64]

cullens with a drunk reader??

The Cullens with a Drunk Reader

Thank you for requesting and hopefully you like this!

Also quick disclaimer I have never been drunk before so this is just gonna be based on what I've seen in like movies or TV shows

Please tell me if I got something wrong <3

Edward:

He thinks you are hilarious

Whether you're a happy drunk, an angry drunk, or a sad drunk, he loves it all

When he hears your thoughts normally, he can hear all these things that you never say

Well when you're drunk it just sort of all comes out

Is more than happy to help you walk somewhere, get you more to drink, and hold your hair back (if it's long enough)

Eventually though he'll put a stop to it

If it gets to the point where he can't hear any more of your thoughts and knows that you are on the verge of blacking out, he is putting an end to the night

Will hold you close the rest of the night

And he is at your beck and call when you wake up the next morning

Alice:

Again, she thinks you're so funny

Every time that you trip, stumble, or slur your words she is laughing her ass off

Loves listening to whatever you have to say

She would love to take you places or have you try to do stuff

Of course, she wouldn't let you get hurt

But she would find endless amusement out of seeing you fall on the stairs

She's not one to stop your drinking

She has been able to see your future for the whole night

She sees that you are still gonna wake up with a hangover whether you have 5 or 10 drinks

So she just lets you have your fun

Again is preparing stuff for you in the morning though

Jasper:

He gets just a little annoyed

Don't get him wrong he thinks you're amusing

But his idea of a fun Saturday night isn't making sure you don't break something or hurt yourself

So he mostly limits you to one room of the house + an activity

One time he got you to sit still for three hours while you were drunk just coloring in some old coloring book he found laying around

His favorite is karaoke night though

Will put a random sing-along song on the TV and watch you sing for hours

He'll stop you after a while though

With just a simple "okay enough fun go to bed"

Has something made for you to eat when you wake up

Rosalie:

Ok I have some thoughts about this one

We all know her backstory

A group of drunk men + her fiance violently and brutally SA'd her and killed her

So I don't think she would be too fond of alcohol

So you drinking around her would bring up those old memories

She tries not to take it out on you, though

Mostly would just leave the house

She'd be back in the morning though

If you drink excessively though, she would get angry and yell at you about it

But every once in a while she understands

Just don't drink around her

At least not for a while

Emmett:

He loves it

He just finds it so funny

He can tease you endlessly and if you're too drunk all you'll be able to reply with is some slurred nonsense

He's an enabler though

Will challenge you to beer pong and other drinking games

Half of the drinks you take are from him

It's not that he means to get you blackout, it's just that he's having fun and forgets that you can't consume endless amounts of alcohol

He won't put a limit on you though

He would only notice that you need to stop if you pass out of throw up

And then he's in panic recovery mode

Is a little embarrassed and concerned the next morning that he let you get that out of hand

He repeats the cycle though

Esme:

I feel like she'd be a wine girly

Or like a brunch mimosa kinda girl

If she was alive, that is

I feel like that was her when she was alive, anyway

She wouldn't know what to do with someone who is fully drunk

Her past experiences have only been with people who were a little buzzed

She does think you're amusing though

But she'll be a lot more hover-y

Won't let you go anywhere on your own

You are in bed by 12 at the latest

You wake up to a feast and every single headache pill the local pharmacy had

Carlisle:

He's a little more concerned

He has people come into the clinic for alcohol related injuries (overconsumption, drunk driving, various accidents while intoxicated, etc.)

He knows the damage it can cause

Also if you are younger than 21 good try he is not letting you drink

But other than that he is a mama bear

Watching you very closely

Literally counting the ounces of alcohol you have to make sure you stay under a healthy limit

And don't even think about leaving the house

He's a bit too worried to find your shenanigans funny

But that's okay

He makes up for it by being there for you

Bella Swan:

Another one who is just amused

She never got out much

She regrets never having drank alcohol while it could still affect her

Unfortunately that means she does live a little vicariously through you

Is playing bartender and giving you everything she makes

They're pretty bad

But you still drink them

Doesn't realize she's given you too much until you literally fall to the floor and pass out

Then she's like "oh shit"

Doesn't really know what to do though

So she has Carlisle take care of you

Apologizes profusely the next morning

Would still do it again though

[sitp-recs]

Thank you so much for your recs—they are fantastic! I wondered if you had any for Draco and Harry becoming friends at (and eventual lovers) at Hogwarts (doesn’t have to start with 1st year, but can!). Thank you!!

Hi there! Happy you’re enjoying the recs 😊 I got a couple recs, the majority is 8th year since I don’t really read canon rewrite AUs. I hope you enjoy these!

Thermodynamic Equilibrium by DorthyAnn (T, 5k)

Harry's far too hot. Draco's always cold. And somehow against all odds, together they create a perfect equilibrium.

Good Company by Greenflares (T, 8k)

With Hermione and Ron always together, Harry's return to Hogwarts to complete his education isn't exactly fun. Somehow, it's his unlikely friendship with Malfoy that keeps him sane.

Stand Back: I'm About to Perform Archaeology by Blowfish_Diaries (E, 10k)

A new Muggle Studies professor takes the Eighth Year students to work on an archaeological excavation. In which Draco is lazy, Harry is sweaty, Hermione is drunk, and Ron turns red.

Nice Things by aideomai (M, 22k)

The first thing that happened was Theodore Nott came back from France.

Makes Me Stronger by Lomonaaeren (E, 29k)

Rita Skeeter’s Harry James Potter: An Unnatural History is a best-seller, mostly due to the fact that Skeeter’s collaborated with a photographer who’s infused the pictures in the book with Harry’s actual memories. As Harry struggles to survive the storm consuming his eighth year at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy becomes an unexpected ally.

On Our Way by evils (E, 30k)

Draco is trying to spend the summer keeping his head down, but a repair project and a certain snowy owl have other plans for him.

Eager for the Sky by @oknowkiss (E, 35k)

It was announced, just as the Triwizard Tournament had been, at the start of term feast. A year-long, international Quidditch varsity match — the inaugural Wizarding Academy Cup. In which Harry is Hogwarts' star Seeker, Draco is on the bench, and they both have a thing or two to learn about playing for the same team.

Like Lightning at Your Fingertips by potterwatch (T, 43k)

The problem with living with another insomniac is, eventually, they find out you’re one, too. When Harry and Draco return for their eighth year, they think they’ll see very little of each other. Then McGonagall assigns them to room together. And the castle starts breaking. And there’s that thing with Potter’s magic.

The July Tree by @oknowkiss (E, 51k)

Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail… nor well-meaning friends, nor questionable communication skills, nor seven years of hating each other’s guts can keep Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy from falling in love.

The Promise of Summer by Omi_Ohmy (M, 67k)

How was Harry supposed to know that coming back for eighth year would be so confusing? Everything is the same, and yet not the same. And nowhere is this more obvious than with Draco Malfoy. Harry finds himself once more watching and following Malfoy, trying to work him out. When they are drawn together to heal the castle, Harry doesn’t just find Malfoy - he also finds himself.

Azoth by @lol-zeitgeistic (E, 88k)

Now that Harry is back at Hogwarts with Hermione for eighth year, he realises that something’s missing from his life, and it either has to do with Ron, his boggart, Snape, or Malfoy. Furthermore, what, exactly, does it mean when one’s life is defined by the desire to simultaneously impress and annoy a portrait? Harry has no idea; he’s too busy trying not to be in love with Malfoy to care.

Helix by Saras_Girl (E, 93k)

Seven months after the end of the war, Harry is feeling lost. Fortunately, he is about to be offered an unexpected and sparkling chance to find himself again.

Changing Tides by carpemermaid (E, 109k)

Draco has spent half of his life spouting the things his father has taught him without much thought about how he feels about what he says. When he unexpectedly comes face to face with the Dark Lord, he grapples with the harsh realities of the world and struggles with his changing views on life.

Written on the Heart by who_la_hoop (E, 114k)

Unnerved by the attention he’s attracting from everyone – the Slytherins are the least of it, to be fair – and struggling with a raft of changes to Hogwarts itself, Harry wishes he could be happy that one constant remains: Draco Malfoy really fucking hates him.

Twist of Fate by Oakstone730 (T, 300k)

Draco asks Harry to help him beat the Imperius curse during 4th year. The lessons turn into more than either expected. A story of redemption and forgiveness.

[bucknastysbabe]

For your health, of course

Aegon II x Baratheon Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Fluff and smut, wg progression, CHONK!Aegon, hand feeding, belly kink, infertility/fertility issues, post!Dance au, they’re in love and everything is perfect okay, health issues, oral sex (m!receiving), hand jobs, mentioned fingering and cunnilingus

A/N: I almost put this on my other blog but fuck it I don’t consider this too The Other Kink to not post. Me love thick men thanks @lovelykhaleesiii for the plot ideas

Aegon came back to the throne skinny, sickly, and surly. He was irritated from the shattered bones and having to rule over an even more shattered kingdom he never wanted in the first place.

You were his new wife, married quickly after he had returned. Aegon liked having you around, requesting you stay by his side at all times. The Dowager seemed to be annoyed as she couldn’t get her son alone to debate how to navigate the still burning coals of war.

You tried to get to know him better, idly chatting away as he drank strongwine. Aegon hollowly stared at you one day and said, “I have nothing to talk about, I like listening to you.” So you had to start bringing books in for entertainment. But the feeling of something missing was in the back of your mind.

Staring at a painting of Aegon on his coronation day brought forth what.

The young king in that photo was robust, handsome, and definitely well fed. You couldn’t do anything about the scars…but maybe some flesh on his bones would help with aches and pains. The Targaryen rarely ate, preferring to drink or sip on soup.

So at your nightly private dinner you ordered the servants to bring heavier options, meats and sweets, bread and pudding. Aegon eyes widened and he grumbled, “I can’t possibly eat that.” You moved to the seat closest to him and prodded, “Why not? You look like a wandering septon.”

Violet eyes turned up at you. He stared at the feast and his mouth twisted slightly. Aegon bitterly remarked, “Because that’s what the Maester told me. Gods, I’m a buffoon. They just want me weak and drunk all the time!” He threw his hands up in anger, cursing himself.

You smiled sweetly, forking a piece of ham to his still frowning mouth, “Eat up then, this will make you stronger.” Aegon opened and took a generous bite, moaning around the flavor. You hummed, “Good. You’ll be feeling better in no time, my lord husband. Show them how wrong they were.”

It was off to the races by that exact moment. Aegon’s notorious appetite of his youth had returned, ten-fold. He requested large feasts for every meal, even beginning to invite some of the lords milling around the place to break up their plotting.

Aegon would often be exhausted after a particularly long day, forcing himself around on that cane in the Keep. He’d plop down in a comfortable chair and you’d hand feed him, cooing, “You’ve worked so hard today, just let me take care of you.”

He would sigh, “You’re too good to me.”

You’d happily do this every second if it got him to smile, that rare, beautiful smile. He’d relax and drink and eat, opening diligently for whatever he dictated you’d bring to his mouth. You didn’t know if you loved him yet, but this made you feel very…warm inside.

You were doing needlepoint next to Aegon, who watched the Blackwater wistfully. He munched on some honey cakes and grapes, having developed a habit for keeping his mouth occupied. You had a feeling the morsels kept him grounded from whatever hellish memories kept the king up at night.

The Dowager Queen entered the chambers, stiff and dressed in black. A new Kingsguard stood behind her, aloof as ever. She delicately perched on a seat, staring at you two. Aegon grumbled, “What is it mother? More spies under the keep? Cregan Stark is on the spires?”

Her pretty mouth thinned, looking so much like Aegon. Alicent wrung her hands together and said, “No, nothing of that sort. I wanted to say you look healthier. Maybe the Maester could check your, ahem, potency soon.” Aegon dramatically groaned around a lemon cake, “Always an ulterior motive, yes! In front of my darling wife.”

You stated, “I do not wish to injure him trying to copulate. I feel this is a private matter between the Maester and us, My Queen.”

She huffed, “Do please meet with them soon, we need an heir.”

Poor Jaehaera was scarcely considered, the child strange and gloomy. Aegon tried his best, the girl often climbing into your shared bed weeping, your husband trying to console her. She was shy of you, but had warmed up some when the princess saw you make Aegon laugh.

After Alicent had left Aegon shoved another lemon cake down his throat. He murmured between smacks, “I don’t trust the gods damned maesters. Not one.” You grabbed his scarred hand and promised, “I’ll be right there with you. I- I’d love to have a child of yours, if the gods allow for it.”

His violet eyes grew glossy and he rasped, “Fine. We go to them on the morn, my sweet.”

Aegon was flushed and very aggravated in the Grand Maester’s quarters. You knew he was self conscious about the scarring and the withered leg he refused to rid of. A blanket lay over his lap, him looking down sullenly. You sat in a corner of the room, hands folded in your lap.

He’d gained some weight, you’d noticed that now that you saw his pale and scarred flesh in the buff. Where ribs once poked through was a soft layer of padding, a small roll creasing his tummy. His arms were more built from the cane, but you could see a bit of softness. Aegon’s hips had flared out.

Heat settled on your cheeks. Your husband looked very good, soft and sweet. You couldn’t help but imagine how more flesh would sit on his delicate Targaryen bones. The jingling of chains alerted the pair of you, the old Maester shuffling in. You relocated to Aegon’s side, holding a hand. He looked up at you and murmured, “You may not want to see this.”

Hardening your gaze you stated, “You’re my husband, I will cherish every bit of you.”

Your heart fluttered watching the stress dial down across his body. Aegon pulled your palm to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss. Orwyle rasped, “So we need to check on fertility, hm?” Aegon snapped, “Why else would I be here? Obviously she’s not broken and burnt.”

The Maester chuckled softly, used to the King’s outbursts. He murmured, “Lay back, I need to check you.” Aegon reluctantly leaned back, closing his eyes tight as Orwyle pulled back the blanket. You stared at the withered leg, frowning in sadness. His other leg, although still healing, had thickened up slightly.

“I see you’ve been having a healthy appetite again,” he noted.

“Because my darling wife cares about me and my health. My aches have lessened.”

“Mhm. Yes.” Aegon gritted his jaw as his cock and sac was felt and checked. Orwyle noted, “You’re producing sperm, but no copulation. We must get your seed and artificially enter it in the Queen.” You spoke, “Can we do this act in private? Ah- the collection part?”

Orwyle waved a gnarled hand, “Yes, of course, I will have to inseminate you quickly after.”

Awkward visit over, Aegon was struggling on his cane, sitting down on a bench with a huff. You nuzzled into his soft hair, teasing, “Not too bad. I have heard the seed takes better when the woman has had her own release.” The king laughed deeply, “Oh, I’ll take care of you. Make Orwyle cover his ears for a bit.”

You pecked his sweet lips, humming. Your hand skated down to his belly, just slightly straining the fabric that once hung off his frame. With a purr you commented, “You are looking very healthy and handsome my lord.” He looked wide eyed at you, eager for some sort of praise, “You think so?”

“Yes, no longer on death’s doorstep, but we’ve got a long way Hm?”

He agreed heartily, belly rumbling as if on cue. More and more eating processed, Aegon seeming to grow more confident with the extra padding. You made sure your husband didn’t have to lift a finger, feeding and pampering him, washing and helping him dress.

Add the lack of mobility and Aegon’s tendency to travel by litter— the weight had piled on much faster than expected. Far exceeding what that original painting you’d scene. But instead of disgust, you grew aroused at his increasing weight and happier moods.

The first few sessions of ‘collection’ were definitely arousing. You’d grope and knead at fatty flesh, hand running tight strokes around his cock. One session he’d busted his doublet after eating a meal and squirming around your slick fist. You’d quivered and came watching his thick belly poke out between shredded fabric, riding Aegon’s scarred fingers.

One cane turned to two to support his heavier weight. You’d ever heard servants complaining about how heavy the King had gotten. He seemed to not pay any mind nor register any weight.

Laying in bed together one night, you idly stroked his swollen belly, bloated with mead and meats of all sorts. This was a far cry from the slim layer of fat lining his body. Aegon’s cheeks thickened, jaw softened, chest swollen. You marveled at his fat sides and rapidly growing stomach. And do not get you started on watching his one thigh grow wobbly and thick.

“Should I cut back on the food,?” he asked.

You raised your brows, replying, “Why do you say that my love?”

“Mother said I’ve gotten rotund, that it’s unseemly.”

You frowned and curled tighter into his soft side while humming, “You look good, happy, and so very arousing to me. A king doesn’t need to change for anyone.”

Aegon eyed you, chin settled into his pudge. He raised a brow and asked, “Arousing you say?” You couldn’t help but smirk a little, squeezing that belly you worked so hard on. The blonde laughed, “Little harlot, you like feeding your king don’t you?”

You blushed, caught unaware by Aegon’s blunt statement.

“Well?”

You shifted against him a bit, growing hot under his heavy gaze. In a small voice you spoke, “Oh, you’ve outed me Aeg. I love it, so much. You look so good, properly fat like a king should be. Shouldn’t have to do a damn thing but order the realm.”

He smiled again, cheeks bunching up. Aegon kissed you passionately, hand greedily reaching to your breast, kneading expertly. You moaned into his mouth, shifting to lay half atop of his mass. You pressed onto his belly, making the poor thing wince.

“Sorry, sorry,” you said.

He shook his head and kept kissing you, tongue lapping you up. Your hand crept down his pale belly, passing now faded stripes to get at his cock. Aegon moaned lowly into your mouth at the contact of your hand. You murmured, “Can I taste you tonight my lord? Please?”

Aegon sighed, “Oh fuck, yes, gods.”

You yanked back the covers, exposing Aegon’s plumping cock, fighting hard to stay up against his generous lower belly. Aegon’s hand laid at the nape of your neck possessively, giving it a squeeze. He panted, “C’mon dear, yes, so good to me.”

You grabbed onto the base, lapping at his ruddy head, tonguing the slit eagerly. Aegon moaned and shifted, stuck under his still gurgling belly. Easing your lips you swallowed him down until he was at the back of your throat, bobbing while your hand got the rest. The other hand was massaging his balls.

Aegon moaned your name again, pudgy fingers scrabbling at your neck. He incoherently rambled nonsense, lazily attempting to buck his hips but quitting when you slapped a fleshy hip. You needn’t have your husband upset his fragile bones trying to fuck your throat.

Keeping up an easy pace you savored the moment, soaking up every moan whimper or cry. You pulled back up to pay special attention to his sensitive cockhead, Aegon’s belly rolling as he squirmed. He cried, “Close- fucking seven hells- angel!”

You flicked your tongue across the slit harder, Aegon losing composure and tearing at your locks of hair. You moaned in ecstasy, greedily swallowing down his spend until your husband was whining and pulling you off.

Wiping the back of your mouth you hummed, “Splendid.”

Aegon, catching his breath, panted, “Get over here so I can get my own. Now.”

He didn’t have to ask twice.

Aegon leant back in his favorite chair by the window overlooking the Blackwater, fingers digging into a bowl of candied sweets. His frame certainly filled out the chair now, heavy sides lipping over the arm rests. You were vibrating with excitement, holding back a smile.

The king stopped his munching to stare at you. He asked, “What’s got you all giddy?” With an excited squeak you moved to lay between his legs, head padded on his stronger one. Aegon’s thick fingers found their way into your hair, scritching idly. He asked again, temper almost on the edge, “Have a jest my lady? C’mon, out with it now.”

Looking up with a beam you chirped, “I’ve missed my moon blood two times now. Orwyle says I am with child!” Aegon’s face was a flurry of emotions— confusion, realization, happiness, then tears. He rasped, “Truly? You are pregnant?” Tears streamed from his pretty eyes, wide with glee.

“Yes, yes!,” you cried.

Aegon grasped at you, pulling you up and closer, an awkward angle but you liked being near to his soft flesh. He kissed you passionately, rambling breathlessly, “Gods be good, I- I can’t believe it.” You nuzzled his nose, warbling, “It’s a miracle. Oh Aegon, I am overjoyed!”

He pulled back, scarred hands holding your face, “We must plan a grand feast, a tourney, something! You’re eating for two now.”

You teased back tearily, “You’ll be eating for three then, yes?”

He rolled his eyes and kissed you again, laughing softly. Maybe the Targaryen’s could rise above the shambles of the realm. This was a new start, a new seed.

[cardansriddle]

Hi:) Could you do prompt #19 where reader gets very frustrated because they’re taking on too much (a lot of school work, pressure from family, and people acting mean/rude to them, then Tom tries to understand what shes going through by telling them to “let their anger out”?

His Comfort - Tom Riddle (1K celebration mini-shot)

warnings: none. just fluff.

A/N: did not proofread, so apologies for any mistakes. also, I'm posting this half drunk so bear with me..

༻♛༺

The library hummed with the sound of pages turning and little whispers of students as the exam period got closer and closer. Your back was hunched in the uncomfortable chair that you were sitting on, devouring bits and pieces of information from the textbook in front of you. Your fingers were aching from the pressure of the quill digging into them as you wrote continuously, and you were sure you could feel a little bump starting to form on your index and middle fingers.

You sighed as you flipped another page, and scribbled another note down on your almost full parchment, all while attempting tediously to hold your drooping eyes open. Exhaustion did not even come close to describing the state you were in. The state you had been in for the past month.

A timid call of your name brought you back to reality as you rose your head to see who had interrupted you.

"It is almost curfew time. You should head back and sleep. You have studied enough for today." Aaliyah nudged you gently, brushing back a few strands of hair behind your ear as she gazed at you worriedly.

"It is not nearly enough." You bit back in reply. "Why are you here?"

She rose her brow in disbelief at your curtness. "You are acting like a proper arse right now. What is up with you?"

You huffed, turning back to your book and avoiding the girl's eyes. "I am fine."

A moment passed where neither of you uttered a word.

"Is there anything else?" You glanced up at her expectantly, wishing she would leave you be.

Aaliyah stumbled over her words before she shook her head and reached into her robe pocket. "A letter arrived for you from your parents today when you missed the feast."

You took the letter from her and nodded. "Thanks. You may leave now, I need to concentrate."

She opened her mouth to speak again but you held up a hand and beat her to it. "Look, I appreciate the concern. I really do. But I cannot rest until I finish this."

"I understand. But self-destruction does not entail success." She muttered lowly before she departed, leaving you in solitude with your thoughts. Your eyes fell on the unopened letter on the desk, your name written upon it delicately by your parents. With a frown, you tore the letter in half and ignited it on fire.

What was the point in reading it if you already knew the contents inside? They had been writing the same thing in every single letter and you had enough of it. Their demands that you focus on your studies and not bring shame on their name had been echoing in your mind throughout your life like a constant reminder.

Your eyes drooped as you got back to your essay. Your fingers struggled to hold the quill and as a result of your loss of concentration and exhaustion, a drop of the ink landed right in the middle of the parchment.

A frustrated groan escaped your throat as you tightened your hand on your quill, causing it to snap in half from the pressure. "Fuck."

"Reparo." A low masculine voice sounded from your left. "Shall I give you detention for being out past curfew?"

Despite the circumstances, a small smile made its way onto your lips. "Tom." You said as you raised your head to look at him. His hair tumbled on his forehead in perfect waves, looking perfect even at that hour. His eyes were cast down to gaze at your not-so-perfect form with a disapproving gaze.

"You are over-exerting yourself."

"Says the Mr Perfect Student. You always skip meals to study. Why is it wrong when I do it?"

The lines on his forehead creased as he furrowed his brows. "I only skip when it is necessary. You, however, miss almost every meal. That is not wise."

"Tom, you know how my parents are."

"Yes. But most of all, I know how you are. And I am quite confident you can pass your exams without all this...carelessness."

"But they—" Tears welled up in the corner of your eyes as your thoughts kept drifting to your parents. Your hands balled up into fists as you attempted to keep your emotions at will.

Tom, the ever-observant wizard, noticed your frustration and with a small sigh sat in the chair next to yours. His palm rose to rest on your back. "Why do you bottle all this up? Talk to me."

You let out a humourless laugh. "I know you do not want that. I would not wish to lay my burdens out in the open for you when I know you do not—"

"Stop." He commanded, his tone harsh but low. "You are stupid if you think I do not have an ounce of care for you."

You had to look away from his piercing, yearnest gaze.

"Let your anger out. Do not let it build up and poison you."

"How? How do I unburden myself?"

"Piece by piece. Scream if you have to. Tear your parchments if it helps." He said before the corner of his lip quirked up. "Or my favourite one is to hex someone into oblivion."

The small laugh you emitted this time was a genuine one. Your smile remained on your face as you sensed his hand rubbing your back in a comforting manner. "Who knew the great Tom Riddle was so good at comforting people?" You teased him.

He huffed in response, his hand travelling to cup the space between your cheek and neck. "Do not get used to it. Or I might hex you as well."

"Oh, he has a sense of humour too!"

The smirk on his face shifted to form a genuine smile. "It is my most well-kept secret."

You put your own palm over the back of his hand that was still on your jaw and nuzzled your face into his warm skin. He leaned closer to rest his forehead against yours and you wished you could freeze the moment for eternity.

"Come. You must rest now." He whispered, the breath of his skin fanning your face. He brushed his lips against yours for a small moment and in his kiss, you felt warm.

"Tom?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

[idontgiveashitabouttourneys]

Any headcanons for Aemond with a clingy s/o?

Aemond’s wife bursts into tears if she knows he’ll be away from her for longer than half a day. Often times Aemond just sneaks quietly in the mornings without waking her up, his heart breaking as he presses a soft goodbye kiss to her forehead. When he finally returns home, she instantly jumps into his arms, legs gripping at his waist as she holds his face and plants sweet kisses all over his cheeks, his good eye and his scar, Aemond cupping the back of her head and pressing her into an open mouth kiss, his grip on her tighter as she starts melting into his touch.

Aemond used to not know how to handle his wife’s ways of sticking herself to him whenever they were in public. Once, during a diplomatic feast held in honor of House Baratheon — a peace offer of sorts after he annulled his promise to wed one of Lord Borros’ daughters, his wife would not stop touching him. She was either caressing the back of his head, clinging to his bicep with her head resting on his shoulder, or running her hand innocently up his thigh, her chair scooted up as close as humanly possible to Aemond’s, the Baratheon lords and ladies feeling mocked thinking her affections were a gratuitous display meant to rub it in their faces that a Targaryen-Baratheon union was never actually in the books. That evening, once the noise around the table had heightened considerably, and prompted by multiple sour looks from his dear mother and Otto, as well as by Aegon’s impossibility to hold in his laughter at the sight of the two of you, Aemond turned to his wife grasping her delicate hands into his. Her happiness at the gesture was immeasurable, being none the wiser as Aemond let out a small sigh and asked her to tone it down with the touching or they could risk breaking a war right there in the ballroom. She took such offense at his words, that she could not even beginning to fathom what to say in response, as she just nodded, disheartened, tears stinging at the corner of her eyes. Aemond felt awful at his wife’s quiet and restrained demeanor during the rest of the night, his attempts to caress her naked shoulder in order to comfort her met with a recoil on her part. He knew he fucked up as he noticed the Baratheon lords drunk off their faces, not one paying them any mind anymore, one of Borros’ nephews, emboldened by several cups of wine, even going as far as to ask his wife’s hand for a dance. As he watched his Lady twirl and jump with a bear of a man’s hands on her waist, he felt his bile rising and vision blur around the edges, angered at his idiocy and shamed by his lack of appreciation for her love. When his wife returned to her seat, Aemond pushed his chair until it knocked into hers and kissed her where she stood, a hand griping her hair and pulling her head back so he could lay his hand on her collarbone. With the exception of a few stares and some hooting from Aegon’s direction, the rest of the feast continued peacefully, his wife returning to him to nest into his arms.

Following that evening, Aemond vowed to cherish his sweet wife’s affection whenever and however she wished to show it. In the privacy of their chambers he reveled even more into her gracious ways, for he never saw her as clingy as others might have put it, but rather as his savior that showed him how good it felt to be loved as such, seen as such, longed for, at all times.

Although Aemond never attempted another public making out spectacle again, he made sure to let his wife know, that if he could, he would never spend a second away from her, his worshipping of her happening with his mouth between her thighs, his prayers dutifully answered as she shouted for the Seven.

Note: Ok I don’t know if what I wrote works as headcanon, but I was nursing a cup of wine lol and once I started writing I got really into it. Hope you enjoyed!

[otomefoxystar]

You Reap what you Sow

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Pairing : Ieyasu X MC

Genre: Fluff

TW : Pregnancy

The warlords had been away for nearly five months in the war with Echigo; only Mitsunari had stayed behind, occasionally racing out to see how things were progressing. Two nights before they left, Nobunaga had a feast. Alcohol was flowing, but knowing her limits, she stated she was going to bed before she got too drunk. Ieyasu, annoyed with Mitsunari, offered to walk her to her room. Feeling they needed to sober up, she made them some tea, but she tripped on the rug and landed in Ieyasu’s arms, taking them both down with her lying on top of him. He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand while keeping his emerald eyes locked with hers. His hand went to the back of her head and, tangled in her hair kissing her fiercely. Their clothes fell to the floor, and they woke up naked and entwined in her bed. 

It was awkward afterward; they couldn’t even look at each other, then the warlords left. First, there was acne, and her emotions were all over the place. Then Mitsunari finally figured it out when she cried over dropping an egg on the floor. Then, not ten minutes after breakfast, she was vomiting in a pail. “I don’t mean to pry my lady, but is it possible that you might be pregnant? I’ve been researching all your symptoms in Ieyasu’s library of books, and that’s what I’ve come up with.” 

She smiles at him and ruffles his hair. “You noticed, huh?” She says with a sad smile. “I wasn’t sure until recently myself when I started getting nauseous. “I’ll try to do my best to take care of you in Lord Ieyasu’s stead.” she laughs. “You can hardly take care of yourself.” He chuckles, “Maybe I’ll do better knowing I’m taking care of you and your growing child.” He smiles, but then her face falls. 

“How’d you know it was Ieyasu?” Mitsunari takes a drink of water with his breakfast. “It wasn’t hard; he walked you to your room and never returned, even though he left his scarf in the dining hall. Then you two wouldn’t even look at each other. If I’m wrong, please let me know.” She laughs. “You aren’t wrong. I guess it was pretty obvious.” Mitsunari finishes chewing and sets his chopsticks down. “Should we send him a letter?” She shook her head adamantly. “No, I want them all to focus on their jobs; my job right now is getting through this.” Mitsunari grins. “I have to ride out there next week. You’ll be okay with me being gone for a couple days?” Laughing, she shakes her head. “I’ll be okay, Mitsunari.” 

That’s how it stayed; Mitsunari kept his word and took care of her, holding her hair back when she had to vomit and rubbing her shoulders and feet. Her belly had finally popped out. 

She looked out in the distance one evening and saw them riding up to the castle. “They’re back! Mitsunari, where are you?!” He appeared at her side. “He looked at her, and thankfully, with her haori on and her obi wrapped around her waist, it was hard to see her little baby bump. He didn’t want it to be a shock to the warlords as soon as they saw her.

As they rode up, they all looked weary, but alas, the war with Echigo would continue. She hugged each one of them with armor and all. Mitsuhide smiled at her. “I must say you are positively glowing; it’s nice to come home to have a greeting such as this.” She smiled, but she knew it wasn’t because she was happy to see them; it was the pregnancy.

Nobunaga had planned a celebration for their return after a full day of rest. _ _ _  went about her day as normal. She was walking through the gardens, and Mitsuhide and Ieyasu were nearby talking when they both saw her; not that it was abnormal, she often made sure the gardens were being properly attended to. She put her hand on her stomach and sat down on the bench, putting her head in her hands. “She doesn’t look well.” Ieyasu sauntered over to her, “If you aren’t feeling well, you should be lying down.” She looked up; she knew who that deep voice belonged to. “Ieyasu, “he grimaced, “Come on. I’ll help you get to your room.” Normally, she would have said she could do it herself in order to avoid him, but she felt awful and was exhausted, so she accepted and put her hand in his. 

“Thank you,” she said as he pulled her to her feet. Mitsuhide had a knowing smile on his face and continued on his way as he watched Ieyasu help her inside. His arm wrapped around her shoulders as he helped her to her room. “I’ll untie your obi. That way, it’s not so constricting, especially if you’re nauseous. I have something for that; I’ll get you some.” He snickered, “Last time I was doing this, things turned out a lot different.” she blushed, and he chuckled. “can we forget that happened and be friends again?” He asked, her obi fell away, and she turned around to look at him. 

“I wanted to talk about that, actually, and I hope you don’t get mad.” He was perplexed but listened to her. “I’m not sick.” He tilted his head slightly. “What do you mean? You seem sick to me.” She bit her lower lip, trying to figure out how to tell him. “I feel sick, but I’m not. I’m pregnant.” He searched her eyes, so much emotion filling them. “What? It’s mine, not Mitsunari’s. You’ve been here alone with him for months. “Let me show you then. She faced him as she took off her kimono and lifted up her undergarments to expose her swelling belly, proof of the growing baby inside of her. “Mitsunari and I are friends; he’s been helping me through this, but nothing more. It’s yours, Ieyasu.”  

Tears filled his eyes, and she took his hand and put it to her belly. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he looked at her. “but I don’t want you to be with me just because we’re having a baby; if you don’t want me, I’ll understand -“He glared down at her. “Don’t be ridiculous; if you weren’t being an idiot and actually paid attention, you would’ve realized that I’m in love with you.” Stunned, she gazed at him, searching his eyes. “I guess I’m an idiot too. I don’t know how you feel either.” She put her hand over the hand that was placed upon her belly. “I love you.” 

He took her face in his hands and crashed his lips upon hers. He kisses her thoroughly, his tongue twining with hers. She drops her undergarments, and her arms wrap around his neck. When they pull away from each other, he gazes into her eyes. “Come live with me. I’ve already missed five months. I don’t want to miss anything else. I want to be there through your sickness, through your being upset, through joy and happiness. I don’t want to miss any of it. I want to be a family.” Tears trickle down her cheeks. “Of course, I’ll live with you. I want to be with you.” He kissed her again softly. 

“I’d like to lie down now. I’m still not feeling that great.” He held out his hand and guided her to her futon. “Sleep now, I’ll be back later to check on you.” She nodded as she closed her eyes. Ieyasu smiled and slid the door shut. His heart felt light. Even if the war hadn’t ended victoriously, he was happier than he had ever been, and no one could ruin it for him. He went to the library, grabbed a book about pregnancy, and sat down, reading as much as he could, absorbing the information on how he could help her medically and what herbs he could use for her nausea. “She might have to tough it out .” He comments out loud to himself. 

It was time for the feast, and Ieyasu came to rouse her; she was already up getting dressed, and he helped her with her obi. When he was finished, he kissed her cheek. “Let’s go.” He held out his hand, and they walked hand in hand to the dining hall. Nobunaga let out a hearty chuckle, “I knew you two had eyes for each other, but with how you avoided each other, I never thought I’d see the day that you’d come together. “Ha! This is not just a celebration of our safe return but of your union. Let me pour you both some sake.” She shook her head. “Thank you, Nobunaga, but none for me.” He raised an eyebrow. “You always drink with us. “She smiles softly, and Ieyasu puts his hand on the small of her back. “Ieyasu and I are having a baby.” Everyone was excited and hugging. Ieyasu went over to Mitsunari and reached out his hand. “Thank you for taking care of her.” Mitsunari grinned. “Lord Ieyasu, there is no need to thank me, I was only doing what needed to be done.” She walked over, standing next to Ieyasu, “No, you went above what needed to be done, and you put me before yourself. I will forever be grateful.” She kissed him on the cheek and hugged him. “Thank you, Mitsunari,” she whispered in his ear as she started crying. “_ _ _ and Lord Ieyasu are so kind.” Ieyasu scowled. “Don’t let it go to your head. “Everyone laughed, and seeing how happy their friends were for them made her heart smile. Then she felt little flutters inside of her. The baby had become active from all the excitement. She kissed Ieyasu, and his hand went to her belly, and they both smiled into the kiss as everyone cheered. 

[simplynotcapable]

write the essay - or a summary 👀

OKAY OKAY LISTEN i babbled a lot here and mostly wrote word vomit instead of an actual argument but i'm 99% sure i got the point i was trying to make across so here we go

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one of the reasons you will never convince me that aegon does not love his family, that you will never manage to swing me that show!aegon's motivations have nothing to do with keeping his family safe--is the dinner scene.

because aegon--lazy, drunken, snarky aegon--takes one look at lucerys going for his brother, and he puts him down.

the aegon that we've seen mocking jace and harassing baela, the aegon who tearfully expresses to his mother that he "can never do enough", who bullied aemond as a child--we have not, at this point, seen anything between the oldest two green brothers that hints at any kind of real positive relationship!--could maybe be expected to trip luke. shove him. hit him. letting him run past (once again defending his brother, shout out lucerys the original ride or die) without doing anything at all would honestly also not be surprising.

but aegon doesn't do any of these things. he doesn't just trip luke, or shove him other, or get one solid thwack. he doesn't stay idle, sitting down and soaking up the chaos.

he smashes him into the table and he pins him down. he holds him there. he leans in close, and you can see his mouth go tight because aegon is honestly not much bigger than luke and we know he's more than a bit drunk and holding down a thrashing, pissed off fourteen year old boy isn't exactly a cake walk; they don't linger on it, but he leans in so close that it seems to me he's probably saying something to luke, and we have no idea what that is but! but!

this is how i know aegon loves aemond. this is why you will not ever be able to convince me he doesn't.

this is the boy who cut out his brother's eye. this is the boy who maimed his brother and wasn't punished. this is the boy who mocks him for it still, and aegon was not there the first time, but he's here now, and luke doesn't even make it all the way out of his chair.

and, sure, you can make the argument that it's just aegon being pissed off at the strong boys and joining in on the fight because he's a chaotic douchebag, and maybe you're right! maybe that's part of it!

but i genuinely believe that it's more a testament to aegon's idea of love. because, moving past the dinner scene, moving into the book events of the dance--how, exactly, does aegon show his affection? through actions. through the specific cruelties that he chooses. he slaughters every rat catcher in the city for jaehaerys and jaehaera and helaena; he orders statues built of his dead little brothers; he strips rhaenyra's queenhood in honor of his wife and his mother; when aemond returns from storm's end, he throws him a feast--which, to go on a brief tangent, maybe unpopular opinion, but I do see that just as much a genuine show of affection/support to aemond as it is a backhanded, cruel slap to rhaenyra's face. like the feast is very much perceieved as a "hey, we struck the first blow and killed your bastard son, fuck you" sort of move, and it is, don't get me wrong, aegon is 100% sending that message. but he's also...i mean, look, even people on their side are going to chafe at kinslaying because that's just such a deep sort of sin in their universe, but aegon is doubling down on aemond's side instead of distancing himself from him--which, by all rights, would have made more sense to do after aemond not only starts a civil war but kicks it off with a war crime! he throws a feast, he celebrates, he basically looks the realm in the eye and says "call him kinslayer, call him a monster, call him a beast, but i will put laurels on his head and a kiss to his brow and call him brother even with the blood on his hands"

tell me what that is if not a twisted, demented, fucked up version of "i love you."

love, to aegon, is action; love is protecting someone, and protection requires violence, and so love is violence. blame this belief on alicent and otto's methods of raising a prince to become a king, but that's the fact the way i see it. aegon shows his love through action and through violence because that's what he thinks love is.

aegon is willing to put hands on luke in front of rhaenyra, who he's been raised to believe will kill him for any slight thing; in front of daemon, who he's been raised to fear murdering him and his brothers. in front of his mother, who he knows will be furious that he and aemond are picking fights at a dinner that is so very close to bringing peace between the factions and who he is constantly trying to win some sort of pride/affection from to no avail. he does this because he loves aemond. because he loves his family. because, despite everything else, aegon does genuinely see his family as his responsibility. he sees them as his to protect, even if he does a shitty job at it.

aegon does not like aemond. he does not like helaena. he certainly does not like himself. but he becomes king for his brothers, for his sister, for his children; his motivations are rooted in family and what it means to him.

and i, for one, get more about aegon's character and his motivations from this four second snippet in a scene that doesn't even revole around him than i do from most of the other scenes he has in the season

and a reminder to all: i am team black, aegon ii targaryen is a rapist and a usurper who should not be king under any circumstances--but, like all of these very pretty and stupid war criminals, i find him fascinating as a character.

[cromulentbookreview]

Cult-Adjacent

You know that blissful feeling you get when that book you really loved but thought was just a standalone suddenly gets a sequel? Does it need a sequel? Not really, it works just fine as a standalone, but don’t you want a sequel? In fact, wouldn’t you love for it to be a trilogy? HELL YES. 

And by that I mean:

PAINTED DEVILS by Margaret Owen!

So Little Thieves is one of my favorite books of all time. I absolutely loved it. If you haven’t read Little Thieves, then the review for its sequel isn’t going to make much sense. So why not go on and go read Little Thieves before you continue? Don’t worry, I’ll wait.

Ok, did you read it? Are you all caught up? You won’t be confused as to why Vanja is carrying around a bag of rubies? Or, you know, who the hell Vanja even is? Ok, good. In that case, Painted Devils picks up shortly after the end of Little Thieves, with our favorite daughter of Death and Fortune stumbling around in the middle of the night, blind drunk. 

You know how things go when you're drunk and miserable - you might post something stupid on social media, text someone you shouldn't, accidentally start a cult, you know. Normal drunk person things. It could happen to anyone! Besides, it's not like Vanja set out to start a cult. No, she just needed to get back the rubies she spilled into a river while drunk. It was too cold to gather them all up out of the freezing water herself. So Vanja made up a story about a low God called the Scarlet Maiden (ScarMad?) coming to her in a vision to trick the townsfolk by the river into helping her get the rubies back. A simple trick, no harm now foul. She fully intended to take off the moment she’d gotten the rubies back.

Like so:

Only it doesn't end there. I mean, the book would be pretty damn short if it did. But one "miracle" after another gets attributed to the Scarlet Maiden and suddenly Vanja is the Maidens prophet and…yeah, she's leading a cult. 

Vanja keeps telling herself she'll cut and run soon, leaving the little town of Hagendorn behind and letting the cult die a natural death. Only she doesn't leave. She stays, and stays, and the cult keeps growing. Vanja even gets her own place, even if it is just a lean-to attached to the Ros Brothers' house. 

There is a problem, though (well, more than just one...). The cult is growing faster than Vanja can keep up with it. So fast, the Prefects of the Godly Courts have sent someone to Hagendorn to investigate this supposed new god. And who else do they send but Emeric Conrad himself. 

Which brings us back to the reason why Vanja was drunk and miserable and spilling rubies into a river in the first place. After Minkja, Conrad caught Vanja again, and together they decided to head up to Conrad’s hometown of Helligbrücke. Only a few days out, though, Vanja caught a terrible case of the self-doubts. She didn’t think herself worthy of Emeric, so she wanted to strike out and make something of herself - become someone more than a thief and a liar. So she wrote Emeric a letter saying as much. 

...and regretted it almost immediately. But by then it was too late: the letter had been sent, and she didn’t head onto Helligbrücke. Instead, Vanja wandered aimlessly in a different direction, got spectacularly drunk and accidentally started a cult.

And now the accounting ledger who wished to be a real boy, aka Emeric Conrad, aka the boy Vanja is maybe in love with, is here to investigate. He is not amused.

After an incredibly awkward reunion, complete with screaming goats, Emeric and Vanja resolve to talk it out. But before they can even begin to deconstruct everything that’s happened in the past few months, the actual Scarlet Maiden appears, rising out of a red mist like an evil Florence Welch.

Which is pretty damn terrifying, considering the Scarlet Maiden is supposed to be made up. 

The Scarlet Maiden promises the people of Hagendorn all sorts of blessings, so long as they hold a feast in her honor at Midsummer and sacrifice one among them who is “unclaimed.” Seeing Emeric, and sensing that he’s “unclaimed,” the Scarlet Maiden marks him as her sacrifice. So now Emeric and Vanja have two months to figure out how to break the Scarlet Maiden’s claim over him before she claims her sacrifice. 

And if you think that’s bad, don’t worry, it gets worse! Yay! 

See, Emeric is in the middle of the second phase of his testing to become a fully-fledged prefect. With him is basically a supervisor/examiner, proctor Elske Kirkling. Kirkling immediately hates Vanja, thinking her guilty of fraud against the people of Hagendorn in the creation of the Scarlet Maiden. So Kirkling decides to make the Case of the Scarlet Maiden* Emeric’s Finding - a test case that will determine whether or not he can become a full prefect.

Basically, Kirkling is trying to back Emeric into a corner, where he must choose: does he want to be a prefect, something he’s wanted since he was 10-years-old, or Vanja?

Yeah, Kirkling is the worst.

Throughout all of this, it becomes painfully clear Scarlet Maiden means when she says she wants an “unclaimed” sacrifice. She wants a virgin. Meaning, someone who has never had sex. Specifically, penetrative sex. The penis in vagina kind.** Anyway, This sends our poor demi couple Vanja and Emeric into a tizzy. They’d resolved to take things slowly, figuring out what they’re comfortable with at their own pace. So Vanja asks the Scarlet Maiden: what would happen if someone “claims” her sacrifice before Midsummer? The Scarlet Maiden offers up an alternative: if she can’t have her virgin sacrifice, she’ll take one drop of blood from seven brothers instead. 

And, as luck would have it, Udo and Jakob Ros, the brothers with whom Vanja had been living, happen to be two of seven. The other five don’t live too far away, either. So, with the help of the Ros sister, Helga, Vanja, Emeric, and Proctor Kirikling head off to track down the remaining five Ros Brothers, which, of course, leads to all sorts of adventures, including a heist in the palace of a corrupt prince, a conspiracy involving brothels and a boat that got stuck in a canal, a haunted ghost doll that doubles as a walking, talking wikipedia, a Wild Hunt led by a powerful Goddess… all that while Proctor Kirkling conspires to have Vanja thrown in prison, and Emeric and Vanja try to figure out their relationship. 

Oh, and the Scarlet Maiden keeps getting stronger. 

Vanja & Emeric’s life right now:

I absolutely loved every minute of this book. There are multiple storylines going on at once, but it never feels convoluted or confusing. There is so much love and emotion in this book, it’s beautiful and heartbreaking and heartwarming all at the same time. Vanja and Emeric continue to be two of my favorite characters of all time - they can be both equal parts diabolical and sweet, and they care about one another so much. Emeric even spent their three month separation mooning over Vanja, which leads to a hilarious Backstreet Boys reference (I saw what you did there, Margaret Owen. Don’t think I didn’t). There are a lot of scenes of Vanja and Emeric being a normal couple and I love it. They bicker, miscommunicate, get into fights, and then - gasp shock! - resolve said fight by actually communicating with one another. Can you imagine?!? And while they want to be intimate with one another, they don’t want to rush into it. They don’t want to force things, or do anything the other might not be comfortable with. It’s just so sweet and I love them and want to smush their faces like so:

Basically, the moment I finished Painted Devils, I was screaming, crying, throwing up...it's so good you guys. So good. It is the sequel Little Thieves needed, it is everything you will want and more. Your heart will be ripped from your chest and thrown in a bin but in the best possible way. I just love Vanja and Emeric so damn much and I can’t wait to see them again in book 3!

Seriously there are scenes that feel like:

But also scenes that feel like:

It’s just so damn good.

RECOMMENDED FOR: Anyone who enjoyed Little Thieves, anyone who likes a good, Germanic Fairy Tale inspired YA demi romance between two adorable cinnamon buns who are just trying their best, anyone who has ever gotten so drunk that they accidentally started a cult.

NOT RECOMMENDED FOR: Anyone not a fan of YA, anyone who doesn’t think asexuality or demisexuality is a thing (if you think that, please fuck right off and don’t come back), anyone who thinks that getting drunk and accidentally starting a cult isn’t something that could happen, brothel owners who refuse to pay their workers, proctors who have no appreciation for what is clearly true love, goats who scream exclusively in letters with ring diacritics, anyone who hates joy or long waits for the last book in a series.

RELEASE DATE: May 16, 2023

RATING: 5/5

TOTALLY UNBIASED FANGIRL RATING: 500,000,000,000 / 5

ANTICIPATION LEVEL FOR BOOK 3: Too high to calculate.

HOW I FELT WHEN I FINISHED MY E-ARC OF THIS BOOK:

HOW WAITING FOR BOOK 3 CURRENTLY FEELS:

*(which definitely needs to be some sort of Little Thieves/Sherlock Holmes AU crossover fic, please make it happen internet).

**(Yes, that’s right, Vanja, I said penis).

[harrison-abbott]

one little family

Mamma Sammy was opening a bottle of wine downstairs which was her first alcoholic endeavour for three nights and thus she felt she deserved a little more; though she was keen to keep it secret from her son, who was upstairs, because she was one of those discreet drinkers and knew that she was unappealing whilst drunk.

Her son, Roger, was lying on his bed in his room with the videogame stalled, acutely thinking about suicide. There was something comforting about imagining hanging himself and he knew that his little sister had a skipping rope in her room and the image of him tied to a tree with a multicoloured nylon rope gave the cadaverous thought an extra form of zeal and there was no immediate issue with his life aside from a simple hormonal disparity which adolescence often reaps upon folks via nature.

His sister, Rosa, was out playing with her friends down at the park. Not skipping, but feasting on sugary foods they’d raided from the newsagent. Fizzy pop, too – they guzzled it down and the sugar had quite blitzed their minds. Rosa and the gals sat in a ring on the grass. She was telling them about her Dad, who she was worried about; because he hadn’t been home in over a week and the last time he was home, he and Mamma Sammy had had a huge fight. “What were they fighting about?” a gal asked. Rosa said she didn’t know, as she’d only heard snippets from her creaked-open door, with them raging downstairs in the living room. “But he smashed one of the lamps, too. Before he left. I heard this big crash. And when I went down later, the lamp was smashed all over the carpet. I didn’t wanna touch it in case I got cut. In the morning Mum had swept it all up.” The girls were clueless what to say but they listened with close glee.

Rosa’s Dad was called Elliot. Indeed, he had been staying in a motel for going on seven nights. He kinda liked the lost sense of adventure, and wasn’t sure whether he was ever going back to Sammy, or the kids. None of them seemed to like him, he assumed: and this notion of being disliked clocked in with a history of negative impressions he seemed to attract, all across his youth, his school years, college, etc, etc. Elliot, when he thought of it objectively, had very few friends – and perhaps there was a valid reason for this. In the motel room in the drawer by his bed there was a copy of the Bible, and, well Elliot had never been that much of a reader so he flicked through it from time to time and tried to concentrate on a snippet of the stark mini black words. Sometimes they didn’t connect with him at all. Other times they seemed to roll with thunderous power and he could see why this was the most influential text of all time. Then Elliot would get tired. He didn’t need to work because this was his holiday from work [he’d booked two weeks off] and his plan for tomorrow was to drive down to the lake where he’d been yesterday and have a think about his marriage and if there was any point in trying to keep it going. He’d thought Sammy would’ve called him by now; but his phone remained silent. This was her way, he declared: it was always him that had to be the peacemaker, and never her. It was a shame because she was such a beautiful woman and even though they were pushing 40, these days, still was; had her looks. Whereas with Elliot, he wasn’t so slim anymore and his skin not so bright, hair not as brown as once it was, brown as the colour of fecund fields. Elliot stepped out of his motel room to have a smoke. With his phone. He looked through his list of contacts and came across his sister Eileen’s number. He called her, hoping she would pick up.

Eileen lived the other side of the country. She did see him calling her but she didn’t want to speak to him just now. Elliot had been mean to her all her life and though she loved him she was still angry about this fact and, plus, she was tired after working all day at the supermarket job, so she simply watched the screen buzzing and flashing until it died and then that was it.

[ellowynthenotking]

Feb 18

Dear Dad

Once again, we stumbled into a place right before they had a big party, so we got invited too! 

There’s some kind of massive thing that happened in the recent past that they’re celebrating. I think someone new is the mayor or something, so they’re celebrating it. There’s actually a huge deal placed on the mayor and how they’re changing everything and how everything and everyone needs to celebrate it and the changing times. 

I don’t know. 

I wasn’t too focused on any of that. I was more focused on having fun. Which I did! Much fun was had. 

We got to celebrate and dance the night away!

Well, most of us, Riley is mad at the guys again for some reason. So, she ended up sitting out most of the night. For the record, I did go over and tried to ask what was wrong, but she didn’t want to talk when I went over. 

So I was like, “Whatever, if it was really that important, she’d tell us, right?” 

And then I went out, danced, ate, and had fun!

I did help set up cause I saw people who needed help when I left the inn this morning, and I got food in exchange. So it wasn’t even like I ended up doing it for free. It was just a job. A job that needed doing, and because I was in the right place at the right time, I could help and get rewarded for it. 

I’ll probably go check out the library tomorrow. 

If I’ve learned anything from all the time that I’ve spent at feasts and festivals, it’s that the libraries are usually quiet right afterward cause everyone’s too drunk/hungover to go, so I can generally get a lot done, and if the librarians are hungover too, then I can do what I want where I want with pulling stuff out, as long as I make sure to put it back when I’m all done. It’s a pretty good system, really. 

For me, it is. Not for all the adults who are too busy getting drunk or partying to stop me the next day. 

When everyone’s not all hungover, there’s a whole lot to do about getting the right thing from the right place and putting it away before getting the next thing, so god forbid if you want to try to reference stuff between two books. You’ll get the house brought down on you if you try to do it with three or more! But not tomorrow!

I’ll have free range of the whole place, and then we’ll learn what we need and go. 

It’ll all be just fine and dandy.

The actual party itself was really cool. There was lots of dancing, and it was all very wild, but I still felt like there was a theme to the dancing. I think there was actually some kind of professional dance underneath it all. Willow and I danced with everyone. It was great seeing Will relax a little and just have fun. Usually, she’s too nervous about everything and everyone, but it was a really relaxed night. 

It’s pretty cool that we got to join it all, see everything, and eat food we didn’t have to pay for or worry about. Now, for the record, this isn’t the only thing going on. I know there’s stuff going on tomorrow too. 

So we’re going to help with that. I think it’s supposed to be more dancing, but I heard there was a lot more dancing in tomorrow’s stuff and less drinking, too, so it should be more fun. 

For me, at least. 

For the people who like drinking, probably less so. But boo to them, I’m going to have fun with the dancing.

Riley wants us to leave ASAP, though. She thinks it’s a bad idea for us to be here and that we need to move on. But it’s like, we don’t really want to. 

We want to enjoy the celebrations cause even though it’s cold, there’s still a lot going on that we should be able to enjoy. And don’t forget there’s a lot of food cause we’ve been practically starving. 

Not even practically, there’s been a couple of points where we were literally starving cause we didn’t buy enough food. At least the horses can actually eat stuff like the new growth and the grass under the snow, but we don’t have that option.

I was to take the chance to stuff myself while it was available and right in front of me. 

We’ll get going soon, but Riley doesn’t like that we’re not saying how high when she says jump. 

She went back to the room when the rest of us didn’t agree to go back early. 

I kind of get it. She’s probably still spooked cause of the donkey cultists, but there’s really not much that they’ll probably do. We’re safe enough at this whole event. We’ll leave soon, and if we leave with a crowd of people, we’ll probably be safer than if we leave on our own in the middle of things. 

It’ll be fine. 

Probably.

Okay, I’m pretty tired, I’ve been working on this letter for a while, and I have no idea when it is, but I’m pretty sure it’s after midnight. So, really, the best thing I can do is get some sleep.

I’ll write you tomorrow, and maybe then we’ll actually have a plan for going where we need to and where we might be able to stop along the way.

Love, Jack

Read the rest of the series here: 

Or read more by this author here: 

[gabenvrhappened]

LifeOr... Devour The Feast, Scrape Off The Plates, and Lick Up The Platters

Read the inspired lyrics Devour

Nothing screams more "me!" than the word nostalgia and its excessively wistful and sentimental yearning to return to an irrecoverable condition. There's something inside of me that finds a disturbing comfort in missing what used to be. It's disturbing because, even though things are so much better now, they were never great. Nostalgia is a mind trick. So, what should I be missing exactly? In this light I'm in, I'm convinced someone got my soul stuck in a moment of the past and left it there, while my body kept walking away, aging.

Even though I know I shouldn't be missing the times where I blissfully knew nothing about the world, there's one thing I know I'm right to miss: the old me who would have his heart broken but didn't know the reason behind it. The old me who wouldn't question fate and reasons because all it took was just moving on. Now everything cuts me so sharply that it draws no blood because, deep inside, I'm dry. In the past, I would be lying on the floor of my room, drunk and naked, and I would recover because hope kept my torches burning scintillating ambers. Now, they've been buried under the snow I so badly want to see in London.

However, I'm too stubborn to understand that. The storm of snowflakes invades my gardens, but I still pretend that there's a sun to warm everything up and make the white pavement a small river for my dreams to sail freely. I try to convince myself that I can be the guy who goes on meaningless dates; the guy who can stop caring, like a red light can make me stop at the streets I walk singing, while looking for the next eye to fall in love with, pretending that I can be the guy who won't chase but will attract. And so I live like this, an eternal loophole of indecisive signs, wanting to be something and being the total opposite. My lighthouse keeps the universe so confused that it's no wonder I am where and who I am right now.

Devour the feast, scrape off the plates, and lick up the platters. But in what way? What's being served? I would be fierce and eat love alive, with my bare hands covered in blood, feathers, and dirt, no matter what. Now, I'm scared of this so called holy foundation, so I eat dishes made of false cold hopes because I know better now about how the story will end. And I can't help but wonder where have I lost it. What would it take to be my old self again? If there's one thing I hope to be alive to see, it's the day they will invent a map where one can find where all started to go wrong, that way I would know the perfect time stamp of when my mind started to control my every move.

It's paralyzing knowing that something is wrong but not knowing what that something is and, therefore, not knowing how to fix and make it right. It is just not worse, however, than watching everything you ever wanted passing through your eyes while you know that you'll never reach it because you're just not the chosen one. You’re the boldest and bravest you can ever be, but never the boldest and bravest that you should be to achieve your wildest dreams. After all, if everyone could be a hero, heroes would be just normal people.

Then all the hurt will mean nothing? It won't serve as a plot device in a future inspiring conversation of how life was hard but even so, he made it? Then me wanting to stop daydreaming because I wanted real things will be a fruitless effort? I guess I'm missing more closing my eyes at night without thinking of a single thing than what I used to miss when I used to lay down imagining me being picked up by a faceless guy in the middle of the night. At least, if I decide to come back to this habit, I can say I'm doing it because Stanislavski said fantasy is one of the most important tools of an actor in the book I'm currently reading. Maybe that's the first step to coming back to my old ways of shouting to the world that I would never stop trying to find real love just because my heart happened to be broken once (or twice, or more…).

In a way, I'm doing that now, as if there's still a small glowing spark inside of me that wants to keep the reminder of how innocent I once was, when ignorance was bliss. If now I can hold on to the belief that God, the Universe, or whatever knows what I want and what I deserve, as a mature thing I positively conquered throughout these years, the old glowing spark keeps telling me "all it takes is one", and nothing screams more "me!" than a blind hope that will follow me until I'm actually blind, without sensing or feeling the dirt that’s covering my body six feet down.

[the-forbidden-archive]

Emily - january twelve 2024 report given by Kian Characz male 20 years old when the report was stated regarding his experience in the cannibal cult of "the blood moon" and death of his twin sister interview stated on January eigth year 1984 report states -

it was winter me and my sister Justyna decided to join in a potluck we were invited to it by my sisters friend, the potluck was as the friend said made by her "book club", the reality was diffrent though, we were ment to bring any ingriedient and the people would combine the ingriedients into a stew, so we decided to bring some carrots with us. the people were suprised to see us but our friend took them somewhere and we assumned they explained everything to them, because when they came back they greeted us again, we gave them the carrots and everything started we were the last guests to come,i took a sneakpeak at the table and went back, then it was just a party we were listening to music and dancing happily then someone took out beer out of a two freezers and someone else showed us another portable freezer with vodka, naturally everyone began drinking well exept for me and the party organisator, you see i used to have a drinking problem and i was after rehab so i did not want to come back to my habits because of a stupid potluck also we came in by car so someone had to drive, but that didn't stop my sister from drinking after two hours a lady came by me and drunkenly asked me to dance, i agreed because she was pretty attractive, and that was when i lost sight of my drunk sister after another hour we were all called in for the feast so i wanted to get my sister and began looking for her, i couldn't find her and was told to sit and eat, so i did, i took a spoonful of my stew i did that two more times before i realised something, i was tasting meat, and i saw the table earlier i have allergies and needed to do that, there was no meat at the table, we were the last people to come and no one else came by with meat, now i began to worry where my sister was i said that we are missing my sister and they looked shocked at me like i just mentioned someone who never existed or like they realised i wasn't drunk and just can't dance. They got angry and they told me to leave immidietly i said i am not leaving without my sister so they escorted me out, so i called the police when i got into my car a police officer came up to me and asked me about what was happening so i told him everything he told his friend to get my sister and introduced himself to me his name was Florence then his friend came asking for us both and they investigated the stew and fridge in the fridge they found… her. They found my sister, dead with her arms and legs missing, her arms and legs were the meat that was in the stew they took everyone to prison for interogation and that is why i am here now. and that's how it all ends.

end report

… i .. wow … i need to meet this man and say sorry… i tried to locate him before i read it, but i was unsuccesfull, what i was succesfull at is to know more about the cult of the blood moon, it is a cult that blesses his people to gain powers, by feeding them human meat, when i got that information i had to read this report.

[sansaorgana]

— REDEEMABLE

PAIRING — King Aegon II Targaryen x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — You are sent to King’s Landing to become the new King’s wife. He needs an heir and the Kingdom needs a Queen. However, he seems to ignore you most of the time and is certainly not interested in marriage. You’re angry and frustrated but you keep fulfilling your duties, believing that Aegon still can change.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I have loved Aegon since the very beginning because he was funny, however the coronation scene in Episode 9 has changed me as a woman and now I’m totally a simp. This is for all my #I Can Fix Him girlies!!! 😍💕 Also, Aemond is Helaena’s husband in this one.

WORD COUNT — 3,420

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

REDEEMABLE

The young King needed a wife just like the Realm needed a Queen. Aegon Targaryen the Second of His Name had to produce an heir to strengthen his claim over the Iron Throne and his court would use powerful allies, so his mother and grandfather spent long days and nights trying to find the right candidate for the wife.

You were the best choice – your father was rich enough to be so proud that he still didn’t bend the knee for the new King and you were known for your many virtues.

Your father rolled his eyes at the sight of the messengers from King’s Landing, expecting him to bring a letter about his obligation to bend the knee. However, his eyes sparkled at the marriage proposition.

His daughter would become the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. How could a man so proud and greedy like him say no?

Therefore, you were sent to the court to adjust to the new life and new duties before you would marry King Aegon and be crowned to become his Queen.

You were quite excited – you had to admit – after all, what kind of Lady wouldn’t be at least a little thrilled to marry the King? But at the same time, you were full of fear. Your maids had repeated to you the rumors about your future husband – that he would spend most of his days getting drunk at the brothels and fathering bastards all over King’s Landing.

The very first disappointment awaited you on the very first day. When you got out of the carriage in the Red Keep’s courtyard, you spotted all the most important people – Queen Alicent, Otto Hightower, Ser Criston Cole, Prince Aemond Targaryen and his sister-wife Princess Helaena, even their twin children. Everyone… except for the man you were supposed to marry.

Queen Alicent apologized for that occurrence and you could see in her eyes that she was very sorry. You pretended that it didn’t bother you.

“It is alright, your Grace,” you bowed your head. “I am sure that our beloved King is busy with fulfilling his many important duties.”

There was a feast thrown for your arrival and you wore your prettiest dress while they sat you on the chair next to Aegon’s but he didn’t show up either. You saw him for the first time during breakfast and he looked completely wasted; barely looked at you and only nodded his head at your presence.

He was a handsome young man with beautiful Targaryen features and, honestly, it was a shame that he was already wasting it all away. You looked down and focused on the food, trying not to overthink your future.

It was difficult not to, though. Since Aegon had been avoiding you all the time, you had lots of free time in between your classes on how to be a good Queen. Sometimes you felt like you would be a better Queen Consort than he was a King.

The realm was thriving only because of Otto Hightower, Dowager Queen and Prince Aemond – they were all members of the small council and they were all doing King’s work.

You were sitting on one of the benches in the garden and pretending to read a book, while in fact you were staring at the couple a few benches away – Prince Aemond and Princess Helaena. As much as quite disgusting you found the fact they were siblings, you had to admit their relationship was extraordinary. You had never seen them exchanging a word between each other and yet, they seemed to live in a perfect harmony and peace. He was reading a book and she was embroidering, while their twins were sitting on the grass nearby and playing with wooden toys.

You could only wish for a relationship like this – so quiet and comfortable in each other’s presence. You were getting a drunkard and a whore of a man and you had to pretend to be happy about it since he was a King.

You sighed, left the book on the bench and decided to take a walk around the gardens. In fact, you wanted to get away from Aemond and Helaena because the sight of them was filling your heart with melancholy.

You had never counted on love. Your father was way too greedy for that. He would marry you off to anyone who would make his position even more important. You had always known that. However, each night you had prayed to all the Gods Old and New for a husband who would be kind at least; gentle. Who wouldn’t hurt you, who would respect you.

You couldn’t comprehend what had you done for them to give you Aegon.

Of course, he wasn’t the worst. You doubted he would physically hurt you. He just… didn’t care.

It was a lonely life you would have.

The Royal Wedding was lavish. Your dress was imported all the way from Essos to make you look majestic and regal, however your husband didn’t even look twice.

His mother made sure he would present himself well but you could still smell a stench of alcohol from him when you were exchanging the vows.

“Father. Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger. I am his, and he is mine, from this day, till the end of my days,” your voice was weak and you had never felt smaller in your whole life.

The weight of this marriage, the weight of the crown that was to be placed upon your head, the burden of the Kingdom and even the burden of this expensive dress – it all felt so unfamiliar. Like you were thrown in the middle of something you couldn’t quite understand nor bear.

And then, the cloak Aegon had put on your shoulders. Black and red like the sigil of his house, heavy like the crown on his head. You felt like throwing up.

But when you turned around to look at the crowd, you saw your parents’ proud faces. You saw your father clapping hands with a smile so wide you had never witnessed it before. And people gathered inside the Sept… cheered.

They cheered for their new Queen.

Perhaps you wouldn’t have your husband’s love but you still could have the love of your subjects.

The wedding party was huge and loud, Aegon got drunk very quickly and most of the time you were dancing with his brother. It was done out of courtesy, Princess Helaena admitted herself it would be a shame for the bride not to dance during her wedding day, so he told her husband to dance with you.

When it was time for the bedding ceremony, Aegon suddenly started to look interested as his drunken eyes sparkled. He licked his lips and watched all the people carrying you to the chambers, while you felt numb in all your limbs; petrified. You noticed that Prince Aemond did not participate in this and he took Princess Helaena back to their own chambers.

Your husband was different. He clearly enjoyed the sight of you all disheveled waiting for him; scared and covering your chest with your hands.

“Lay down or turn around, I don’t care,” was all he said while taking off some of his clothes that would make the act more difficult for him. However, his hands were shaky from all the alcohol and he struggled with certain pieces of clothing.

You didn’t intend to help him with getting out of them. You felt so disappointed and even angry at him that you pretended not to notice his struggle.

You chose to turn around so you didn’t have to smell him.

You were sitting in the same room as Princess Helaena and Dowager Queen Alicent, all of you busy with something. Helaena was embroidering spiders, Alicent was reading a book and you were fulfilling one of your new duties, which was answering some of the letters.

You massaged your temples and thought of the best choice of words while addressing the Lady of Winterfell, when the doors opened and one of the maids walked inside. She was pale and her hands were shaking.

“Your Grace,” she addressed you and you furrowed your brow at her as Queen Alicent looked up, intrigued, “you are needed, your Grace.”

“Me?” you asked, surprised.

“It’s about the King,” the maid explained as her eyes widened.

You sighed and stood up. You didn’t know what it could be about but you had your suspicions.

“Is my son alright?” Queen Alicent asked, her voice filled with concern.

“Yes, your Grace, he is. He just… He demands the Queen's presence,” the maid nodded her head. She wasn’t a very good liar, you had to admit.

You followed her through all the corridors, keeping your head high and desperately clutching on the leftovers of your dignity.

The most surprising thing about your marriage was the fact that you were sharing chambers with your husband. Most importantly because he would rarely spend his nights there anyway.

When you opened the door, you spotted Aegon laying on the floor and two maids trying to make him stand up. He had his lip bruised and there was fresh blood on his cheek – he had to get himself into a fight. He was also mumbling nonsense and he smelled like alcohol, piss and vomit. He would always smell this way after visiting one of his favorite brothels.

There was no way no one had recognized him. He could dress in ragged clothes but his platinum blond hair was revealing way too much. It was a matter of time when the whole Kingdom would know what kind of a man your husband truly was.

“You’re a disgrace,” you stood above him and he groaned before opening his eyes lazily to look at you.

“Leave me alone!” he whined.

“I would be delighted, my King,” you made sure to make the irony in your voice audible. “However, I am bound to you forever, it seems,” you crossed your arms and looked at the terrified maids. “Leave us,” you nodded your head at them and they bowed down before hurrying out of the chamber.

“And what are you gonna do now? Slay your King?” Aegon smirked and winced right after since his bruised lip had let him know about its presence.

“You might disgust me but I do not wish you death, which might be surprising indeed,” you sighed and crouched down to pull him by his tunic and sit him up. “Gods, you stink like a swine.”

“Just leave me,” he whispered as his voice suddenly sounded sober for a moment. You looked deep into his eyes as you furrowed your brow. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do. It is my duty. I’ve sworn,” you cupped his chin to force him to look back at you. The vulnerability in his eyes caught you off guard however. There was no cockiness; just pure… regret?

“‘ts not your duty,” he slurred out and you took a deep breath in.

He looked pathetic and yet, you found some sudden urge to protect him deep inside of you. Perhaps that was the curse of every woman, that urge.

You gently moved his ruffled hair out of his face and Aegon seemed to be petrified by this delicate gesture coming from you.

“It was not my wish to marry you, however we are now presenting ourselves as a union, Aegon. Your wrongdoings are my wrongdoings. Your reputation’s damage is my reputation’s damage. I do not wish the whole Kingdom to know about your whores and your bastards, your alcohol problem… I want my King to be respected. My husband,” you explained. “Speaking of, it’s heartbreaking to see you getting drunk like some old lord already. You’re wasting yourself and you’re going to die soon if you continue this way of living. You might die before fathering a son even. And what then?”

“Aemond will become a King. He’s better suited,” your husband pointed out. “I shouldn’t be a King and you all know that. I’m on the Throne by mistake, just because I left my mother’s womb first.”

“I find your brother endearing but I would rather see my son sit on the Iron Throne, my King,” you smirked before standing up and approaching your vanity table where a bowl of water stood.

You took one of the rags you would use before going to sleep to remove your makeup with and you wetted it before going back to your husband and proceeding to gently clean his face.

“I’m going to tell the maids to prepare a bath for you,” you spoke softly. “Then you can sleep it off.”

“Gods, am I like my father?” Aegon asked all of sudden and you froze, looking at him questioningly.

“As far as I am concerned, your father was not a drunkard spending his days in the brothels. Care to enlighten me?”

“I mean the way you take care of me despite hating me. Just like my mother did, all these years,” he answered with a disarming honesty.

“I don’t hate you,” you smiled, “and I doubt your mother hated your father either. Hate is a strong word.”

“Despise, then.”

“Perhaps she did despise him, yes,” you nodded your head and went back to cleaning his fresh wounds and dried up blood.

“And you despise me the same way,” Aegon insisted.

“I don’t know, maybe I do. It’s hard to tell,” you sighed. “You are insufferable, that is certain. But I still do wish and hope for you to change like the naive fool I am. Perhaps it is because of your young age, perhaps it is wishful thinking, a sort of desperate prayer,” you confessed and bit on your lower lip while staring deep into his eyes. “Can I kiss you, my King?” you asked all of sudden, surprising your own self with the words leaving your mouth.

The fact was, you had never actually kissed him. You had pecked his lips during your wedding ceremony and that would be it.

“I stink,” he pointed out.

“I am willing to risk it,” you smirked and he leaned in to close the distance between you two.

The way your lips met with his was careful and delicate – after all, his lips were bruised and swollen and you didn’t want to cause him any further pain. He tasted as bad as he smelled like but for some odd reason, in that moment, you felt like everything would be alright; like it still wasn’t too late for him.

“Do you seriously think I can be redeemed?” he asked like a child would ask his mother, with a dose of innocence and clear hope for the positive answer and reassurance.

“Yes.”

On the nights when Aegon would share the bed with you, he would always sleep until noon or even longer. Therefore, when you felt the bed next to you being cold and empty after opening your eyes, you sat up immediately and looked around, confused.

“Had a bad dream?” Aegon’s cocky voice brought you back to reality You squinted your eyes and spotted him getting ready somewhere. He was all dressed up and sitting by your vanity table while putting his rings on his fingers.

“Wha-what are you doing?” you rubbed your eyes.

“There is a small council’s meeting. I don’t want to be late,” he shrugged his arms.

“But you are always late,” you pointed out.

“I believe it is time to change that,” he stood up and fixed his tunic for the last time in the mirror. “Stay in bed, I told the maids to bring you breakfast here. I want you to get ready and meet me in the Dragon Pit in two hours,” he added before leaving the chamber.

You were left speechless at that. Perhaps it all was just a dream…?

After eating breakfast and putting your clothes on, you took a short walk to get to the Dragon Pit. Aegon was already waiting there for you with a smirk on his face.

“Can I ask you what has gotten into you?” you asked after approaching him.

“Can I ask you why are you always so querulous instead of enjoying the moment?” he shook his head as he led you inside the Dragon Pit.

“What is there to enjoy about the moment?” you raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve been wondering would you want to ride Sunfyre with me,” Aegon stopped in front of his dragon and you gasped.

Sunfyre was absolutely the most beautiful dragon of them all but at the same time it was still a dangerous beast that you had feared… which reminded you of your husband indeed.

“I would rather… I would rather not,” you admitted. “Not yet,” you added and Aegon petted his dragon before looking at you, intrigued. “I do not trust you enough and you do not like me enough for him to accept me.”

“My apologies. I just wanted to… I wanted to do something nice for you, my Queen, but I didn’t know how to and…” Aegon sighed while struggling to find the right words.

“It is fine, my King,” you stopped him by putting your hands on his wrists as he froze. “I appreciate it.”

“It is not my desire to be like him,” Aegon whispered.

“Hm?”

“Like my father,” he explained. “I did not expect you to… care so much. I do not think anyone has ever cared about me this way. I do not think anyone has ever thought of me as redeemable,” he swallowed thickly as your eyes widened at his confession.

“Your family loves you, your Grace,” you assured him, “but their love is of a harsh kind.”

“They have their reasons,” Aegon sighed.

“I am harsh to you, too,” you reminded him. “You could behead me for the way I speak to you.”

“I am not going to lie to you, sometimes I do need harsh treatment. I am aware of my own depravity. It is not like I am clueless. It has always been a way to escape for me. I have never wished to be a King,” Aegon’s fingers caressed the palm of your hand.

“The best Kings have never wished to rule, so I have heard,” you cracked a smile and he looked up to meet your gaze.

“But I cannot do it alone. It is not a burden for me to carry on my own,” he admitted.

“You are not, your Grace,” you intertwined your fingers with his. “Shall I remind you of the vows we have made on our wedding day? I am his, and he is mine, from this day, till the end of my days.”

“I have been nothing but awful to you,” Aegon looked down, embarrassed.

“What kind of Queen would I be if I couldn’t forgive?” you chuckled softly. “Let’s start all over again, how about that? You shall court me properly from now on. Let’s get to know each other and finally do what we are supposed to do,” you laughed.

“And that is?” Aegon furrowed his brow while looking at your face again.

“Producing heirs, don’t you know?” you reminded him.

“Yet another thing I am expected to do but I do not feel ready for,” he muttered.

“I was not ready to come here and become your wife either. To become the Queen,” you tried to encourage him the same way mothers had to encourage their children.

Your life with Aegon would be hard work and you didn’t have to do this. You could leave him be to his whores and drinks, brothels and sins. You could live a completely separate life, move to different chambers and only lay with him once in a while, hoping to get pregnant and give birth to an heir.

However, you didn’t want to. You wanted to help him since he was your King and your husband. But, most importantly, he was a lost little boy with a crown a bit too big and too heavy for his head.

Despite his awful ways, you had learnt to love him in some odd way.

And judging by the look in his eyes, he had already grown very attached to you.

“Well, perhaps we will never be as compatible as Aemond and Helaena but…” you broke the silence with a little joke.

“But where's the fun in that?” Aegon interrupted you with a sly grin on his face.

“My thoughts exactly.”

MASTERLIST

[jaqdawks]

[ID: piece of paper with poetry made out of cut out lines from a book. Reads: HOLY BIBLE but GAY. I am drunk, / my heart is broken within me, But / on that night there will / be two people in one bed: / I will kiss him / He said / “What are you After / I say / your cock / kneel before him / I will feast again / How you shall groan / After / He entered into me, / With my own voice I cry / I will make it / known* that the love with which you loved me/ Then they indulged in sexual promiscuity / Blessed is he who comes in me //end ID]

Found a Bible in my closet from Catholic school. Decided to cut out the lines and reorganize them into gay obscene poetry. People on my IG were begging me to post it on my sketch account but I already got in trouble once on that account for a drawing that was a little too lewd for Instagram’s bots’ liking so I’m not risking it. Onto Tumblr it goes!