I Love Your Writing!! If You're Still Doing Requests From That Prompt List, Maybe 200 For Mando?

𝔩𝔬𝔨𝔦 𝔩𝔞𝔲𝔣𝔢𝔶𝔰𝔬𝔫 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

everything marked with ツ contains smut, my blog is 18+ only regardless of if something contains smut or not. please read all warnings before reading any of my fics. all series contain a mixture of fluff, smut and angst.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘:

― behind closed doors

being in a secret relationship with the god mischief himself and sneaking around to avoid the avengers.

𝖇𝖑𝖚𝖗𝖇𝖘:

― nervous

you and loki are both virgins and have never gone further than heated make-outs until.. impiled ツ

― angel voice | lab assistant!reader

your a lab assistant that mindlessly sings what happens when loki hears?

― mornings in asgard

mornings in asgrad with loki are always so nice especially with the way he wakes you up ツ

𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖙𝖘:

― drunk

loki gets quite drunk and he is quite clingy with you and can’t stop loving on you.

― nsfw abc’s

dirty thoughts and headcanons with the god of mischief ツ

― bunny

you’re being very needy and loki wants to be a tease and not fuck you but tells you to dry hump instead to get off ツ

― a long time | bearded!loki ?

it’s been so long sense you’ve seen loki, when you do he seems to have a beard now. He also seems to miss being between your thighs. ツ

Regulus Black Fic Recommendations

Main Rec Masterlist

mannakell (Wattpad)/WizardGod (Ao3)

The Salt and The Sea (Wattpad)/(Ao3) -> The year after her brother James graduates, Teddy Potter returns to Hogwarts for her final year. With the Marauders gone, it should be a quiet, peaceful year despite the mounting tensions in the world outside of school. The problem, naturally, lies with Regulus Black, the broody boy who just might be the most effortlessly aggravating person she's ever met in her whole life. And for someone who was raised with James Potter, that's saying a LOT.

Dirty Old Town (Wattpad)/(Ao3) -> Finn Lynch lives a quiet, tranquil life in a rural village in the mountains. Her life may lack spontaneity and excitement, but at least it's peaceful. And if it's a little lonely too, then she can't complain too much - she's still happy, after all. When her uncle asks her to house a defector from the magical war he's involved in, Finn agrees reluctantly despite her concerns that the presence of Regulus Black in her home will disrupt the careful peace she's been cultivating for years. Nothing could prepare her for what an insufferable prick he is.

@stylesparker

She's a fighter -> Reader stands up for Regulus.

@specialbrewbutterbeer

Brother -> In which everyone survives the war, and the Black brothers are reunited after years apart.

@nectarcfthegcds

Did I Take it Too Far? -> you & sirius have an argument over your relationship with his brother.

LOVE YOU, TOO, EDISON.

pairing : eddie munson x fem!reader

summary : skipping class with your boyfriend to get high in the woods behind school was your favorite thing to do. but much to eddie’s dismay, this time around didn’t involve heated make-out sessions and heartfelt hugs, it was just you pestering him about his full name. your current theory on what it was? edison.

warning : they’re idiots. in love. and i treasure them both more than anything. established relationship. possibly ooc eddie, i’m trying to get a feel for his character <3 <3 <3 .

note : scoured the entirely of reddit and quora to figure out how to punctuate the title 💀 . if it’s still wrong, hush! shut! zip-it! i’ve wasted 3 hours of life on the sentence already…

st masterlist | eddie munson masterlist | gif credit

pulling the blunt away from your lips to release a puff of smoke, you turned to the boy beside you. a smile stretched across you lips as you nudged him with your elbow.

“eddie,”

he continued to stare straight ahead, but gave you a half-hearted hum of acknowledgment. your face fell and you nudged him harder.

Keep reading

HUMAN

“𝗙𝗼𝗿 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮 𝗰𝗼𝗰𝗸𝘆, 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗯𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗷𝗲𝗿𝗸…𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝘀𝘁.”

        “𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮 𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗰𝗸-𝘂𝗽, 𝗻𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗰 𝗽𝘀𝘆𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗮𝘁𝗵…𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝗯𝗮𝗱 𝗲𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿.”

      Myrah Koor was a mystery. She worked alone and she worked hard. For a while, she was the best bounty hunter the Guild had ever seen. At least, until a certain Mandalorian came along.       After a small hostage situation, the two team up to find the bounty of a lifetime… twice.       Traveling the galaxy, the unlikely pair takes down enemies, saves the day, and makes a few friends along the way.

𝗗𝗶𝗻 𝗗𝗷𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻/𝗠𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗮𝗹𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗻 𝘅 𝗢𝗖 𝗔 (𝘀𝗼𝗿𝘁 𝗼𝗳) 𝗦𝘁𝗮𝗿 𝗪𝗮𝗿𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆

          I am not in association with Disney or Lucas Films. The only thing I have the rights to are my characters and their stories. There may be some alterations here and there, but overall, this follows the general plot to the first season of Disney’s, The Mandalorian.

          As always, I would love to hear comments and recommendations. Your guys’ opinions make my day (and my writing) better.

          Enjoy Human! :)

𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘂𝗲 | 𝗼𝗻𝗲 | 𝘁𝘄𝗼 | 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲 | 𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿 | 𝗳𝗶𝘃𝗲 | 𝘀𝗶𝘅 | 𝘀𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 | 𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 | 𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗲 | 𝘁𝗲𝗻 | 𝗲𝗹𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 | 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗹𝘃𝗲 | 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻 | 𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻 | 𝗳𝗶𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻 | 𝘀𝗶𝘅𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻 | 𝘀𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻 | 𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻 | 𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻 | 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆 | 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆-𝗼𝗻𝗲 | 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆-𝘁𝘄𝗼 | 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆-𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲 | 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆-𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿 | 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆-𝗳𝗶𝘃𝗲 | 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆-𝘀𝗶𝘅 | 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆-𝘀𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 | 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆-𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 | 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆-𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗲 | 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆 | 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆-𝗼𝗻𝗲 | 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆-𝘁𝘄𝗼 | 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆-𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲 | 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆-𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿 | 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆-𝗳𝗶𝘃𝗲 | 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆-𝘀𝗶𝘅 |

The First Snow

Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x fem!reader Rating: T+ Summary: Jack is finally home, just in time for the magic of the changing seasons.  Word Count:  1,827 Warnings: Sexually suggestive comments but nothing explicit, Soft!Whiskey, no beta A/N: This started as a little head cannon that I sent to @talesfromtheguild​ yesterday when we got our first (super early) snowfall of the year, and I expanded on it just a bit. I’m so soft for Jack, it’s unreal. I’m thinking of expanding this to a much steamier part two. yay? nay? 

Masterlist

Fall on the ranch was your favorite time of year. The air was crisp and smelt of the turning leaves that fell gently in the breeze. It was the time to bring out your cozy clothes; your favorite sweaters and scarves, the knit mittens your grandmother had made you, the cute little beanies your boyfriend insisted on buying you (not that you were complaining). Everything inside smelt of cinnamon and nutmeg, and the nights were spent wrapped in a fleece blanket by the fire with your favorite warm drink warming your hands. In a word, it was perfection. The only thing that made it better was when your man finally made it home for the holidays.

And that final thing is what you currently find yourself waiting for.

Keep reading

Frostbite Masterpost

A post-Thor: The Dark World Loki x Reader Adventure

Summary: Iceland is nice - sure, you probably should’ve picked a time of year when the weather was a little warmer, but it isn’t too bad, and at least you’re away from your desk job, right? It’s a pretty big adventure.

You’ve always said that you wanted more adventure in your life.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9| Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31 | Part 32 | Part 33 | Part 34 | Part 35 | Part 36 | Part 37 | Part 38 | Part 39 | Part 40 | Part 41 | Part 42 | Part 43 | Part 44 | Part 45 | Part 46 | Part 47 | Part 48 | Part 49 | Part 50 | Part 51 | Part 52 | Part 53 | Part 54 | Part 55 | Part 56 | Part 57 | Part 58 | Part 59 | Part 60 + Epilogue

Also find it on Ao3! [link] ❄️ 

Print Edition of Frostbite (also available as an epub)! 📚   

Flurries:

(AUs/Alternate Endings/Oneshots/Deleted Scenes)

Paper Planes

Hail to the Queen

Sand

Spank

Spring Fever

A Royal Spooning

Another Royal Spooning

Honey, Revisited

Bedtime Stories

Devour

They keep going by @apurpletrashcan​

Running with the Wolves by @cozy-the-overlord​

Just a Matter of Time by @caughtaghostsomehow​

Never Forgotten by @just-a-lovely-reader​

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Art:

Gjálp & Greip by @acaprioglino  

Býleistr by @acaprioglino 

Hrossþjófr, Býleistr, Greip, & Gjálp Portraits by @acaprioglino (commission them)!

In-Unga by @acaprioglino

In-Unga by @the-republic-and-face-of-texas

First Meeting *animation* by @blackrose9794

Visiting Asgard *comic* by @blackrose9794​

The Final Showdown by @francisketches​​​

In-Unga by @demilovr247-blog

In-Unga by @luisaskywalker

Loki & In-Unga by @im-way-too-many-fandoms

Loki & In-Unga have a bonding moment by @jelly-draws

Greip & Hrossþjófr (by me)

Loki & In-Unga by @kin-1870​

Loki & Drottning by AsgardianDaisy

In-Unga in the Gown by @lukeios

In-Unga & Her Hat by @theliesmithsdaughter

In-Unga’s Outfit by @apurpletrashcan

Various In-Ungas by @kason-nvidiade-art

In-Unga’s Asgardian Dress by @allthelovefromstylesxx

Greip & Gjálp by @jelly-draws

Býleistr by @magnitude101999

Jotunheim Map by @javelinamilk

In-Unga in Asgard by @cchulainn

Jotun Loki by @neverending-space

Prince B Gets Gucci by @becausekittensareinvolved

Dad!King Loki by @becausekittensareinvolved

Loki & In-Unga Dancing by @just-a-lovely-reader

The Frostbite Gang by @lenerdybunny

Frostbite Chapter Covers by @megalocerous

Frostbite Cover by @pie46733

Frostbite Lettering by @quaainteriude

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Audio:

Mavis Reads - Frostbite Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 by @m-arbles

My Pronunciations of Character Names 

Frostbite Spotify Playlist (my writing music + reader suggestions)!

‘Young King Loki’ rendition by @apurpletrashcan

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The World of Frostbite:

Characters

Culture / Tribes

Mythology

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Asrior, Hlin, Thor (Marvel), Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Warriors Three (Marvel), Sif (Marvel), Steve Rogers, Hogun (Marvel), Pepper Potts, Jarvis (Iron Man movies), Kagoq, Valtur the Unmerciful, Ragnar the Undaunted, Sazur Additional Tags: Asgard (Marvel), Avengers in Asgard, Canon Divergence - Post-Thor: The Dark World, POV Loki (Marvel), POV Female Character, Avenger Loki (Marvel), Angst and Fluff and Smut, Uneasy Allies, Developing Friendships, Drama & Romance, Loki is Not Amused (Marvel), Slow Burn, Danger Summary:

After paying for his crimes, Loki has earned back Thor’s trust if not the other Avengers. And though the God of Lies believes that he has reformed, he takes a dangerous path toward revenge—and his enemy’s daughter must pay the price for his convictions before he realizes how much he has yet to learn. Loki/OFC, Thor, warriors of Asgard, Tony S., Bruce B., Cap, and other superheroes.

Hi gorgeous! I was wondering if I could request a prompt Ben Solo x Reader. I devoured your series cause it was incredible and My heart is aching for some more Ben Solo content. The prompts numbers I loved were 5, 101, and 118. Thank you love and I hope your holidays were incredible.

A Mediocre Proposal (Ben Solo x Reader)

A/N: Writing this cleared my skin and cured my depression. Thank you for sending this prompt in because I love the end result. I hope your holidays were great as well and please enjoy Resistance hero Ben Solo. 

Summary: Ben Solo, Commander in the Resistance, has an important question to ask the reader. 

Prompt(s): “You’re cute when you’re angry.” + “Don’t get too cocky.” + “I got you a present!” “I’m not sure I want it?”

Warning(s): Language, mention of injury, a whole lot of fluff

Word Count: 2687

Ben Solo. The name itself was notorious, continuously uttered around the grounds of the base. And the man the name belonged to was just as unforgettable. The son of a princess and a scoundrel, two well known Rebellion heroes. His uncle Luke Skywalker, was the legendary Jedi Master. His blood was utterly rich. He was a prince, trained in the ways of the Force, and the best pilot the Resistance had. It was no surprise he was so highly recognized amongst the other members, especially amongst women. He was tall, dark, and handsome, with that undeniable Solo charm. But Ben paid them no mind, no his heart had already been taken, held against his will if anyone ever asked, by (Y/N).

Keep reading

Hi hi! Okay so those song prompts are magnificent. How about ‘17. And at once I knew, I was not magnificent - Holocene, Bon Iver’

It would be good to have something where Aemond l sees the reader for the first time at a ball or something and his own little view that he is superior to others comes crashing down because he is in absolute awe of her? Feel free to alter/tweak/change whatever!

thank you so much @littlemisscaptainfandom ! i ran wild with this one. feral. i love the idea of aemond being outplayed because of his smugness, and the ball idea - enjoy!

request a song prompt!

Magnificent

Warnings: Aemond being in deep denial lmao WC: 3333 (nice)

Prompt 17: "And at once I knew, I was not magnificent" - Holocene, Bon Iver

He heard you long before he saw you – the uneven heel clacking of a noble’s daughter who had shirked one too many dance lessons. 

“No,” he heard a lilting voice laugh, impatiently. “Like this - right foot second, you dolt.”

Dolt indeed – the instruction was lost on the girl, whoever in the Seven she was. Yet another sacrificial lamb to lure the unwed dragon into marriage, no doubt. Even with one eye and a turned back, Aemond could practically smell her family’s pathetic attempt at temptation – a corset two sizes too small and a family ambition two leagues too large. 

The prince didn’t deign to watch the scene. He preferred the game of gleaning, observation – seeing without seeing. Creating the tapestry in his mind and tracing the threads to know which to pull to watch it all unravel. It had long been said by the Maesters that when one loses a sense, the others bolster themselves, and indeed, all he had to do was listen.

Aemond heard the Dolt relinquish a dramatic sigh. “It seems that I simply must retire to the fray then Elyana, lest I bring shame upon our most noble house.” 

The younger – Elyana – huffed.

“It would be wise. How father expects to make you a dragon bride, I will never know. You cannot dance, or sing, or embroider –” 

“Yes, and lest we forget my stunning lack of maternal instinct,” you lamented. “Remember when Darya’s little one bit me?”

Aemond smiled – smug, slight, vulpine. He was right, of course, as he always was. 

The sudden sound of shattered glass upon flagstones jerked Aemond out of his wager. He acted on instinct, as he always did, head whipping towards the drunken laughter and breaking his reverie. Behind him indeed stood two girls, as different as the sun and moon. The younger, dressed in fine lilac gossamer and silver, swiftly began to chase the bard and beg for another song. 

And then there was you. Aemond’s eye roamed your figure, appraising the rich, dark olive of your gown and its deep, square neckline – Braavosi velvet, he’d wager, a show of wealth to have such long sleeves of the stuff. A little demure for an attempted seduction, he mused. Perhaps her family thought to appeal to mother’s piousness. 

The prince would never admit that this was the longest he had stared at a woman. He simply wanted to improve his skill of gleaning, listening, to compare the observations he made with the reality before him. It was imperative to absorb every detail; the way that your gold pendant heaved with your shallow, shocked breathing, and the sliver of hair resting on your cheek. There was a power in your tensed shoulders - coiled, reactive, ready for the threat of weight. Aemond felt his fingers twitch against his will, a yearning to carry it for you. 

He snapped himself back to reality with an internal grimace - the dragon cannot lie with the lamb. The music had begun again, and you finally turned towards him, face blanching at his discovered proximity. 

“Prince Aemond,” you started, eyes wide, muscles coiled – caught in the courtly snare. 

The lamb is too stunned to curtsey, he mused, watching your quick fingers wringing the golden band on your thumb. You certainly were the most radiant of the sacrifices offered to him so far. Though, he parried, there would be little use in marrying a fool.

Aemond hummed, relishing in your panic for a few seconds longer than any decent gentleman would.

“I’m half-blind, not half-deaf,” he said lowly, taking a step closer. “One would do well to be wary of the court, my lady. You never know who might be listening.” 

Your eyes narrowed imperceptibly – a flash of something Aemond didn’t quite recognise, gone as quickly as it appeared. Idiots have trouble accepting their transgressions, he supposed, but her polite smile had something hidden behind it, like the dark side of the moon. Deep within the tides of the fray, Alicent observed the scene with a ghost of a smile. She watched the girl hide fire and intelligence in her muscles like a coiled serpent, and bitterly wished that she had the same instinct as a girl. Perhaps then she could have avoided her fate of staring at ceilings and dancing with dragons.

Her prayer was silent as she observed you, implored with eyes instead of the tongue: Keep buying your time, sweet girl. Her second son was much too perceptive not to see through your mummer’s moronity eventually – she could already see Aemond’s eye probing your mask.

“Aemond,” the Queen beckoned with a regal nod of her head.

Time. She thought, noting the way your minds danced around each other, palpable. Love matches were rare, mind matches even more so – but she could see the way you looked at one another. Time and choice. She would gift you the mercy the gods denied her. 

The prince pried his eye away from you with great effort, waiting for you to answer him. You remained silent, gaze unwavering.

Interesting. He conceded as he walked towards his mother. For a dolt.

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Your eyes narrowed through the dim candlelight. The crowd ebbed and heaved like fresh seafoam, and you searched for your sister, your anchor in the waves, like the Oldtown lightower would a lost ship. In truth, you felt uneasy without Ely, your sworn shield against courtly attentions. It had been like this ever since you were children – a symbiotic relationship, the tide to your moon. She would sing and whirl through your father’s halls, a gossamer dervish, drawing the attention to herself and leaving you free to pursue your histories and hidden halls, and hone your sharp tongue.

You finally spotted the girl by a large table of ale, humouring a dark haired young lord who had not yet grown into his long limbs. You weaved your way through the crowd to reach her, forming a courtly, waxen smile to begin your manoeuvre. 

“Sister!” You gasped, watching Elyana’s dark eyes twinkle as she recognised your ruse. “Mother requires you at once–” You cocked your head, silently wondering how every little lord fell for it. “Something about Ser Randyll?” 

The little lord – Arryn, you’d wager by his gleaming brooch – blanched at the sight of your mother in deep conversation with Lord Reyne and his son. You stifled a laugh watching his chest puff up slightly at the challenge – your work was done. You pried your sister away from the little falcon’s talons, barely managing to stifle your laughing fit until he was out of earshot. 

“Seven hells, Y/N, it took you long enough!” she huffed, preening over your shoulder to make sure that the young Lord Lannister hadn’t seen the exchange and think her spoken for. She had always been a romantic, excessively so, even for her six and ten years.

You pinched her dimpled cheek with a grin. “That’s for having far too much mirth in calling me a dolt earlier.” 

Elyana rolled her eyes, batting your hand away. “It was your grand strategy, if I recall.”

“Yes, and I accounted for the pinch.” You said wickedly, before surveying the hall.

“A job well done I’d say, The Prince heard our performance. I even refused to curtsey. He’ll no doubt relay my idiocy to the Queen, and we’ll be home in no time at all.” 

Elyana regarded you pensively, gently taking hold of your hand. Her gentleness felt like a cage to you, sometimes – perceptive, inescapable. “You know you will have to marry one day.” 

Your sister watched your eyes flutter, soaking in your surroundings like a sponge. Your reply was barely audible over the internal hum of your own thoughts. “Not like this.” 

You had decided that long ago. You knew you couldn’t escape a married fate – all women were cursed with the knowledge of how their lives would go from the moment they stepped into their first etiquette lesson with the septa. But, if you were to be married, it would be on your terms.

Impossible, father often branded you, but always with a fond smile.  If you could not escape your fate, you would fiercely guard the little time you had with your freedom as the kingsguard would protect the king.

Though sometimes, when alone in the vespertine hush of your chambers, you could admit the presence of a longing in yourself, a desire to be seen for who you were by whoever you might be sold off to. Such longing is dangerous, you told yourself. Expect the swing of the sword, never mercy. Especially if you found yourself drawn to the wielder like a moth to flame – you were lucky to have honed your courtly mask so well upon seeing his handsome face. Though you had heard takes of the “one-eyed brute”, there was little account of  the beautiful shadow his cheekbones cast, and his knowing, surveying gaze. 

Your sister pulled you out of your thoughts, head nodding to a balcony alcove. She knew the price you paid for duty as the eldest. “Go. Take your refuge. I’ll be with mother.” 

You offered her a tired, grateful smile before wading through the crowd towards your sanctuary, too close to paradise to be aware of the shark circling. 

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It wasn’t as though Aemond had been watching you. Mother had always taught him to be an attentive host - he was merely cultivating good will, bolstering support for the war to come. He watched you grab your third - no, fourth - glass of wine, an irritated huff escaping his nose. He supposed there was little use in lying to himself any longer - he felt pulled to you the same way he felt called to the skies. Perhaps this was the lust that seemed to drive Aegon to the depths of Fleabottom every night - maddening.

The more he watched you, the more his one good eye narrowed in bewilderment. Supposedly too dim to follow a septa’s simple instruction and notice the ears of court, yet cunning enough to weave your way through this nest of dancing vipers and their hungry sons. You could redirect the attention of a young lord with a single word, and charm your father with the raise of an eyebrow. You moulded the scenes that unfolded around you, parrying dance requests with a skill he’d only seen with Ser Cole and his morningstar. 

So why the overt blundering before him?  He leaned against the pillar, pensive. The only rational explanation he could fathom was that you had heard stories of him and thought to demean yourself as a marriage prospect. The prince scowled. Of course. What woman such as her would want a one-eyed beast as a husband?  Aemond felt his insides twist and his fingers twitch, barely containing the ire towards himself. 

Despite your repulsion of him, Aemond felt his curiosity turning ravenous in his stomach as he watched you approach your sister. He could not help but want to map you as The Conqueror once did his lands – even if you did not want him, he could watch your mind work from afar. So watch he did, as your sister held your hand in hers like water. He mapped it all to memory – your hushed words, the steely set of your eyes and jaw, your deceptive smile; a sliver of his favourite crescent moon.

The hour was late and the candles burnt low. Nobody would begrudge any of the young ladies for retiring for the night – the young Tyrell girl had already sunk so far into her cups that she had to be carried to her chambers like an overwatered rose. Yet there you slithered to the alcove, alone, alert with empty company and a full cup. 

Aemond had begun to follow you long before his mind registered the movement of his legs. He followed your trail through the flurry of bright skirts, drunk on the hunt. His long legs strode with a purpose that was lost to his conscious mind, stopping when he reached the boundary of the lush, red drapery. Aemond stood outside of your sanctuary for a long while before breaching it, in an act that almost reminded him of protection. From what, he did not know. A mangled dragon guarding its hoard, he thought wryly, before stepping onto the balcony with the silence of a predator. 

The prince wasn’t sure what he expected. A maiden in tears after being shunned at court, perhaps – he wasn’t sure how far you’d go to keep up the show. But there you were, in the furthest corner of the alcove, with your elbows on the dark stone and your eyes to the stars. He glanced at your now-empty cup before clearing his throat. 

You sighed imperceptibly before turning to face him. So you knew I was here, then. The thought made him hide a smile - the idea of you sensing his presence and ignoring him anyway, even if you tried to hide that fact. Insolent. He thought. Magnificent.

You bowed this time, with a tired, chagrin smile - an apology for earlier. “Forgive me, my Prince. It has been a while since my sister and I have been in the capital. The intricacies of court politics appear to be lost on me.”  

Aemond hummed, ignoring the way his innards clenched - my prince. He rather liked the sound of that. “Yet not so unhoned that you managed to avoid that Lannister whelp,” he paused, brow raised. It made him feel less shame to know he was not the only one you rebuked. “Not to mention that little Manderly lordling.” 

The Prince enjoyed watching you war with yourself - needing to keep your shield up, yet too tired and full of ire to keep up the ruse for much longer. 

“Evading them hardly requires a honed mind, my Prince.” You snorted. A clever answer. He thought. Too clever. 

“Aemond.” He corrected. You narrowed your eyes at him, suspicious.  “If I am to play along with your farce, let the rest of it be real.” He amended, making his way next to you but never prying his eye away.

You breathed a laugh, toying with your rings again. “You see more with one eye than most do with two, Aemond.”

The prince hummed. “It is of little consequence. They still brand me “one-eye” after all.”

“Little,” you snorted again, a glorious sound. Real, he thought, the soft skin of your hand calling him as your voice did. Real enough to touch. “Perhaps everything seems little to the rider of the largest dragon alive.”

The mention of Vhagar earnt you a small smile - a true one that you couldn’t quite look away from. Somehow you knew that it was Aemond’s version of a face-splitting grin.

You basked in comfortable silence for a while, noting how he had placed you on his right side – away from his eyepatch. The revelation made you frown, but left your vision unobstructed. It gave you a better look at the way his hair fell, an estuary of molten silver. You committed his profile to memory - the sharp edges that were strong, true, until he suddenly met your eyes. For once, you were speechless - the lush darkness of the night and the sweet smell of gardenias were suddenly oppressive.

“I really can’t dance, you know.” You blurted. 

Aemond artfully raised an eyebrow in question. 

“Earlier,” you clarified. “what you heard.” You tucked your hair behind your ear with what you hoped was a self-effacing smile. “I really am a terrible dancer, it was no lie.” 

Aemond nodded grimly in understanding. “There is no need, my Lady, I understand your distaste for the match.” He stood taller, and tapped his eyepatch lightly. 

Aemond watched ten emotions cross your face at once, until you settled on the one that most puzzled him; anger. Your eyebrows furrowed deliciously, something he noticed you did before you wielded your barbed tongue, and your lips parted. He did not see how your heart caught in your throat, nor the way your hands almost sprung to hold his shoulders. You slapped your palms onto the cold stone instead.

“Gods no. No, that is,” you breathed, warring with yourself before finally conceding. “It is not you, Aemond. Nor the sapphire eye that likely costs more than my entire dowry,” you jested half-heartedly. 

You steeled yourself for honesty, looking into the sky once again and sneering in defiance at the gods who watched.  “If I am to be sold off, I at least want to choose my buyer.” 

Aemond’s gaze never left you, probing your truth as if he were caught in its net. He finally understood, and you knew he did. There was little that could be said, he thought.

Your eyes were almost crazed with a repressed frustration that was finally breaching the walls of your dutiful facade. A longing to be understood that matched his own. He saw fire – not that of ‘fire and blood’, but the fire of lightning. Beautiful, terrible, calculated in its strikes. Magnificent. 

You trembled as if to cull the rage from erupting out of you. Years of playing placater, unable to unleash the true potential of your mind and spirit. Aemond’s eye flitted down to the stone, observing the shaking of your hands.

He did the only thing he knew how to and rested his hand gently over yours, the same way he would calm Vhagar. Real, he thought. Warm. Much too warm. You calmed under his touch. He understood, you know he did – years at court culling your own ambition at the expense of duty. Aemond created the “one-eyed brute”, just as you created the “little dolt of a lamb”. 

You placed your hand over his. Horribly improper – it made you smile under the valleys of his scars and callouses. You wondered if you could map them in your mind as the maesters mapped the stars – a sky that was your own. Aemond felt your pulse thrum under his fingers and let it reverberate – his hands, his ears, his heart, his bones, it was all you. He knew you would have to leave soon enough, but for now, he would bask in you, knowing you’ve scorched him for life. 

“Aemond,” You said, hushed. “How far can a dragon fly?” You looked up to meet his faraway gaze, relishing in catching him off guard. His lips were slightly parted as he stared at your own. It took every ounce of his steel restraint not to pull you to him and show you the meaning of fire and blood. 

Instead, he hummed. “Vhagar has been known to make the trip from here to Dorne in a day, give or take - ”

He stilled at the interrupting shake of your head. If you had met his eyes, you would have noticed the questioning squint of his eye. Instead, your eyes were now trained above him, not wavering from the star-spittled sky.

“No,” you began, the gold of your necklace jingling as you craned your neck - as if the stars would be able to hear you better that way. “How high? Your maesters would not tell me.” 

Aemond stared at you for a moment, finally following your gaze upwards with a slight smile. You asked the maesters. Of course you did. The thought of you badgering them in the palace library filled him with a disturbing level of fondness. 

“Perhaps we could find out.”  

Your head whipped towards him, eyes sparkling in the dark. “We?”

Aemond hummed again, this time in affirmation as he took your hand in silent question. “If I’m steering Vhagar, who will take note of the scientific observations? Maybe you are a dolt after all, my lady.”  You squeezed his hand in your own, and your answering grin was like the sun. Magnificent.

Triple Frontier fic: Why Did It Have to Be...

for day 12 of my hyggetober ficlet challenge. today’s prompt is “pets.”

Francisco “Catfish” Morales/gn!Reader, rated gen (warning: contains mention of snakes, though they exist entirely off-screen). can’t stop won’t stop writing extremely soft babyfic about hot single dad Frankie Morales™. 525 words. thanks to @heatherbel for suggesting Frankie for this prompt.

  Every now and then, Frankie has a flair for the dramatic. You hear him come through the front door, murmuring excitedly as he makes his way through the house to find you in the bedroom, folding laundry, and he pauses in the doorway, baby in tow.

“You will never believe,” he declares, “what we just saw.”

“What did you see?” you ask. You’re a little distracted, facing down three socks without their pairs, so you almost miss it when he widens his eyes expectantly.

“Guess,” he says.

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