white man of the month curator

rainy | they/them | 22 y/o | chews through drywall

[bagofshinyrocks]

Navigation

Hello! My name's Rainy and I'm a college student. I don't have much brain power, but I'm gonna post whatever writing I've got here or to my other blog. This one will have stuff from movies, TV shows, and video games, while my other blog @dontbeunraisonable will have my anime and anime adjacent stuff.

I'm taking requests now, but I'm usually slow at 'em. Always feel free to drop a request, comment, or message anytime :-)

Masterlist

Dividers and credits below cut

Shark divider - by @vrtualseraph

Dividers by @saradika-graphics and @diviniyae

[bagofshinyrocks]

Are you planning to write more vox x reader? I've read the latest one-shot and I enjoy the way you write him. Very in character

YES! THANK YOU!!

I have so much Vox in the works. he is the current favorite <3

I'm so happy you enjoyed! and I am overjoyed that you liked my characterization of him. I'll be having more out soon :-D

[bagofshinyrocks]

Lysistratic

Prompt: Vox says something real shitty to you. So why would you be physically intimate with him? That should be obvious. Why is he so mad? Are someone’s hormones perhaps a bit out of control?

Featuring: GN!Reader x Vox

Word Count: 1.7k

Content Warnings: NSFW; unhealthy relationship dynamics; reader is a bad person, but Vox is worse; crass and explicit sexual content

“You are taking this way too personally, okay? Like, I say one wrong thing and that’s gotta ruin the entire night? Tonight has been fine. Great, even.”

You scoff and grab clean pajamas and underwear. “Tonight was great. It could have continued to be great if you weren’t a jackass to me, but here we are.”

Vox follows you into the bathroom, whining and trying to half-apologize his way back inside your holes. He didn’t mean it like that. That phrase slipped out. He didn’t realize the connotation of that word. Well, you shouldn’t have said ‘x’ then, because that’s so much worse than what he said. He was just teasing. He even tried to join you in the shower, cooing that he’d make it all up to you. He’d remind you of why you love him. If you gave him the chance, he could make you forget why you were so mad in the first place. When your hormones are out of sorts, sometimes you just need a good cum to feel better.

You brushed him off and closed the shower door behind you. He continued bitching as you scrubbed off all the evidence of his body on yours. Lathered and rinsed until the scent of him was gone from your skin and you smelled like yourself and your bath products. Smacked his hands away when he reached for you, tried to dry you. You brushed your teeth, ridding the taste of him from your mouth. Shoved him aside when he tried to block your way to the guest bedroom. Wrenched your hands and arms from his grasp when he tried to pull you into a hug.

Every single pet name in the world poured from his lips. Baby, sweetie, c’mon. Let’s not go to bed upset. Can we talk? We don’t have to have sex, we can just go to bed. Just sleep next to me, honey, you know I can’t sleep without you.

The guest room door closes in his face, your numb expression the last thing he sees through the opening. And then, the lock clicks. You locked the door? Are you fucking kidding? 

First of all, that little door couldn’t stop him from getting to you if he really wanted to. Second, he wouldn’t force you to have sex with him. He could have sex with anyone he wants. People would line up (and have!) for the chance to have sex with him. He’s one of the most powerful Overlords in Hell! And you two weren’t even official. He was still a bachelor. Not that him being in a relationship would be of any consequence to his most die-hard of fans.

So he sulks back to his room. Has his own shower. Doesn’t even jerk off before going to bed, even though you blue-balled him in the middle of what had been great sex. He was just too pissed off to stay hard.

He expected to wake up to an apology. Breakfast in bed. You wringing your hands in the living room, tearful and exhausted, asking if the two of you could talk. Maybe to the feeling of his cock in your mouth, you humping his bare leg, you pumping his dick in an attempt to put it inside you again, you riding him. Tearful and exhausted. He needed you to have slept poorly and regretted your decision to not sleep next to him.

No such thing happened. You start treating him like a fucking roommate. Over the next few days and weeks, you move your clothes and toiletries into the guest room and bath. You knock and wait for a response when entering his bedroom or office. You ask before borrowing things. 

He looks absolutely like a loser in your text messages.

What the fuck was he doing? 

After that embarrassing display of desperation, he decided he’d play the same game. Didn’t text you. Ordered meals for one. Came back from his office late at night and didn’t tiptoe around. Fucked Val (loudly) all over the penthouse. In the his bed, his bathroom, the kitchen, the living room. The guest bath. Even your the guest room bed. This was his penthouse, his tower. Everything in here was his. He could do whatever the fuck he wanted.

Valentino was absolutely living for this lovers’ quarrel. He had Vox’s attention all to himself. He could talk shit about you and Vox would agree. The smell of you in Vox’s bed sheets was fading. He saw you less and less. And Vox was plowing him every night.

But it wasn’t entirely perfect. 

You walked in on them in the bed you once shared with Vox and… didn’t look upset at all. “Oh, shit. Sorry, I just need to grab some washcloths, I’m all out.” You did a little jog to and from the linen cabinet and locked the bedroom door behind you with a little awkward wave. 

Valentino wanted you to burst into tears. To scream bloody murder. To throw things around the room. Vox wanted that, too. You didn’t oblige.

As far as Vox could tell (and he had been watching you even more than he usually did), you hadn’t satisfied yourself physically once. Part of him was glad you didn’t have some other sinner lined up as a replacement for him. But the other part of him… 

Was that not something you needed like he did? Had you just been obligation-fucking him? You lived in his home, ate his food, and worked for him, so you made him feel like a man. To keep him from giving his attention to someone else. Had you been lying? Lying that he made you feel good, that you had been thinking of him, that you loved how he felt against and inside you?

That fucked with him. He had sex with Valentino less often. Left in the middle when he couldn’t get out of his head.

The month-long Lysistratic strike ended once Vox had sufficiently groveled, spilled his guts, and exposed his most vulnerable spots.

“Honey, I fucked up.”

You looked up from what you were doing, giving him longer and longer glances as he demeaned himself.

“What I said to you was fucked up, and I should have known better. I know better now. I won’t say anything like that again. I’m sorry I hurt you. I miss you so much. I shouldn’t have gone to Valentino, I should have tried to fix things with you earlier. I fucked up. I’m a fucking idiot. Please, please give me another chance. I won’t do that shit again. Please let me try again. I will listen to you. Just tell me what I need to do.”

A sigh. Your hand squeezed and settled on his shoulder. Fingers titled his screen up to meet your face. You rested your forehead against his.

“I missed you, too, baby. Let’s go to bed and talk about it in the morning.”

For the first time in your relationship, you and Vox made love that night instead of fucking or having sex. 

Testing the waters, he behaved differently. He didn’t initiate at all. Didn’t rub his erection against you. Didn’t grope at your chest, stomach, or ass. Didn’t even make a point of looking at you when you undressed. 

You rolled him onto his back, unbuttoned his shirt, kissed down from his neck to the waistband of his pants. You looked up at him from where you hovered over his erection.

“Can I take these off, baby?” you coo.

He nodded, chest rising and falling jerkily as he tried to keep himself from showing any emotion. You undid his pants and slid them alongside his boxers down his thighs. His cock sprung upwards, half-hard and twitching under your hungry gaze.

You asked for his permission with everything. Can I put you in my mouth, sweetie? Can I rub myself against you? Can I put you inside me, honey? I really missed the feeling. Can I please move up and down?

He said yes to everything, of course, but kept his hands fixed on your thighs. He tried to keep all his noises of pleasure to himself, but you leaned in and kissed him whenever he panted or hissed. You groaned into his mouth, gripped his shoulders for leverage, and when he tested a little hip roll, you moaned so loud that you clapped your hand over your mouth.

Can you put your thumb in my mouth? Can I move faster now, baby? Is this okay? Am I making you feel good?

You came much quicker than you usually did, meaning you really hadn’t masturbated or cheated. You squirmed and clenched around his dick, grabbing his hands and open-mouth kissed them. Please, please, fuck- fuck, you feel so good. You humped up and down on him a few more times, shivering at the sensation. He wrapped his arms around you and held you to his chest, your wet warmth still around his cock. You panted for breath, twitched every so often, and clung to him.

“Did you feel good, sweetheart?” he murmured into your ear. You nodded and nuzzled into him.

“So good, baby. Thank you for making me cum.”

His ego stretched and unfurled its wings. “Of course, baby.”

“I’ll finish you in a second, I promise. I just need to- I just need to rest for a second. My ears are still ringing.”

He could have jumped for joy. “Take your time, honey. I know you’re sensitive, but can I move a little bit? I like how you feel around me.”

You squeezed him in your arms and inside of you. “Please do. You can use me, if you want. I want you to feel just as good as I do.”

With all of this slobbering and pumping of his ego’s dick, he came a few minutes later. You whined as he fucked into you and moaned when you felt him cum deep inside. Globs dripped down his balls onto the bed sheets. The pair of you panted in unison, kissing when you could breathe and whispering sweet nothings.

See how nice you could be if he just did as you wanted?

Posted 2026 June 2nd

[bagofshinyrocks]

currently having a debate with myself that I am sharing with you all.

trying to write some toxic relationship shite.

on one side, it can be "happy ending" with reader changing evil character for the better. but am I perhaps feeding into the stereotype that the romantic partners of evil men (often times women) have the ability to change a man for the better if they are good/love him enough? that it is the romantic partner's fault if they can't make the man better?

or

the "happy ending" that is the evil reader is able to control (or have the semblance of control) over evil character. but will people understand that they are toxic for each other on purpose? that this is exploration of an unhealthy dynamic because it is media and not real life? both reader and character are bad and treat the other poorly on purpose. because they want control over the other.

i am leaning towards full toxic relationship with no redemption. putting on my evil hat and opening 4chan for relationship advice. capturing reader and character in a jar together and shaking them violently.

(there will be adequate content warnings when this shit is released i prommy)

[bagofshinyrocks]

Part 2/2 - Never

Prompt: You explain to someone else that you would never marry him. He overhears.

Featuring: Ser Duncan the Tall; Prince Baelor Targaryen; Prince Maekar Targaryen

Word Count: 2.6k (700 each for Dunk and Baelor, 1.2k for Maekar (oopsie))

Content: angst with comfort; gender-neutral reader w/o descriptors; reader is a crybaby i guess (idk man i guess that's the theme for today); accidental Maekar favoritism; excessive swearing in Maekar's part

Part 1 of this

This is a direct continuation of part 1, so please read that first

SER DUNCAN THE TALL

“I’m seein’,” said Dunk from behind you, “a lot of you flappin’ your insolent mouth and not a lot of you makin’ and mendin’.”

You stared in disbelief at Egg, praying that the boy had somehow become an excellent ventriloquist and imitator of Dunk’s voice. The boy’s bugged eyes told you that was not the case.

“Fish,” squeaked Egg.

“What?” said you and Dunk in unison.

“I think we should have fish for dinner. I’ll go catch some.”

The weasel of a boy ran from your side to where he kept his fishing gear, and then took off in the direction of the river. You watched him go, wishing that you also had some excuse to leave. But alas, you were unable to come up with any plausible escape route.

Dunk walked over to his bedroll and things, paying you no mind. His hair was still wet, and both his clean clothes and body were not yet dry. His shirt clung to his back, the lines of his muscles visible. 

For a beautiful moment, you thought he hadn’t heard any of the exchange. But then you saw it: his ears were red. Not the tips of his ears, but the whole of them, from the tip to the lobe, were a flaming red. His eyes met yours for half a moment before you snapped your gaze back to your lap and prayed there was no evidence on your own face.

“You poke your finger?”

You looked at him, fingertip back in your mouth, before you popped it out and laughed awkwardly.

“Oh, yeah. Jammed a needle in it, honestly. But it’s not bleeding too much, don’t worry.”

“Can I see?”

Fucking kill me, you thought. “Honestly, Dunk, it’s fine. Just a needle prick. I’ve had worse.”

The hedge knight approached you anyway and knelt at your side. His ears were still red, but his face seemed resolute. He held out his hand for yours. “I’m sure it’s fine, but I’d like to see it anyway.”

After a moment of hesitation, you gave in, putting your hand with its bleeding finger extended into his waiting palm. He brought the fingertip closer to his eyes and looked, tutting.

“You really did jam it in there,” he said with a little smile. “Why doncha let me finish that for you?”

Before you could protest, he took the mending from your lap and placed it on his own, settling down next to you. You need only put your elbow to the side in order to connect it with his arm.

A pause. Both of you taking care to breathe as evenly as possible. Trying hard to give no indication to the other that he knew, you knew he knew, and he knew that you knew that he knew.

“Look,” said Dunk, “about what you said.” Your shoulders folded in and you tried to sink into the earth. “I- um… I do love you. And if you asked me to, maybe I would give up being a hedge knight for you. But… But I don’t think you’d ask that of me. At least not for a while. I think you like traveling with me. And Egg. And sure, I want to do things properly by you, but who the hell knows or decides what properly means. You and I- We can do things however we want to. Whatever way feels right for us. Y’know?”

Your mouth connected with his before either of you knew what was happening. Tears wet your cheeks and your hands came up to grab the collar of his damp tunic. His arms wrapped around your torso, tugging you snugly against him. It was messy, two people without much experience with each other figuring it out on the ball. You giggled in between kisses, each one feeling more right than the last.

“I feel a little stupid,” you said, pulling away for breath. “For doubting you. And working myself up for nothing.”

He smiled at you, his big blue eyes and reddened mouth sending your heart into another bout of fluttering.

“You’re not stupid. Just a bit silly sometimes.”

You laughed, then leaned in again. Your kisses were gentler now, sure and unhurried.

“Fish,” said Egg.

The pair of you jerked apart and stared at the boy with open mouths, not too unlike the catches in his hands. He shuffled his feet awkwardly and cleared his throat again.

“I got some fish for dinner. Shall I… Shall I start cooking them, ser?”

Dunk coughed and wiped his mouth. “Yeah, yeah. That’s a good idea.”

PRINCE BAELOR TARGARYEN

“Baelor,” Queen Myriah snapped, “Eavesdropping on your mother’s private conversation is unbecoming!”

You leaped from your chair and spun to where the queen’s eyes had fixed themselves. Baelor was standing beside a large bush that must have hidden his approach, looking wholly abashed at being caught.

“My apologies, Mother,” he said, not budging from where he was spotted. “Father has asked you to join him in his solar.”

She huffed and drew to her feet. “You ought to announce yourself, or I will get you a bell.” You curtsied as she passed you by and she patted your shoulder. “We’ll talk more later, my dear.” She fixed her son with another frown and moved in the direction of her husband’s solar. When Baelor made no move to follow, she looked back at him. He turned from her and took a few steps toward you, clearing his throat.

“Might we- Might we discuss this?”

You watched the queen’s retreating form until she turned a corner before nodding, not trusting your voice just yet.

“Let’s sit then.”

The pair of you returned to the breakfast table, sitting next to each other in absolute silence. Baelor rubbed one of his hands against his beard, swallowing and taking a few deep breaths. He seemed to work through several things in his head before you interrupted him.

“I never planned on telling you.”

You felt his gaze fix on your face.

“I know that saying things aloud can alter the way things are. And I didn’t want to risk, you know… changing things for the worse.”

“I was getting ready to tell you,” he confessed. You met his gaze, eyebrows furrowed. “I was trying to find the words to do so, over the past few weeks. I think my mother saw me struggling with it and wanted to help me. Because I… I was afraid I would regret not telling you more than I would regret changing things between us.”

A heavy silence, your eyes burning.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he said, almost scolding. “You are quick to learn. And when you can’t help me with something, you support me where you can. Making somewhere safe for me to retreat from it all. Listening to me.” His hand reached for yours and placed it atop his chest, above where his heart tapped against its cage. “You could never disappoint me. I won’t ever stop caring for you, and I wouldn’t regret marrying you. You would make an excellent consort for me, if that was what you wanted. But I wouldn’t- I wouldn’t demand that of you. If you want things to remain as they are, then I will accept that-”

You cut him off with a burst of tears and flung yourself into his arms. He caught you, holding you tight and burying his nose into the side of your head.

“It’s not fair,” you blubbered, “how perfect you are.”

He laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “That is kind of you to say, my love.”

You untangled yourself from him and lifted your head to face him, your lower lip quivering and face surely puffy from crying. He looked at you like you were a sunset in the palm of his hand.

With a surge of confidence, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his. He inhaled shakily, moving his mouth against yours and bringing a hand to rest on your shoulder.

It was almost like neither of you could believe it was real. Neither of you could believe the other felt the same way. You couldn’t believe how warm Baelor was against you, how perfectly his beard tickled your skin. Baelor couldn’t believe he had you in his arms. That you were kissing him. That your mouths fit perfectly against each other.

“And we always said Maekar was the rabbit,” whispered Myriah to her husband. The pair of them were safely hidden from view, peering in on their eldest’s very forward marriage proposal.

Daeron shushed her gently and guided her back to his solar. “Let’s not interrupt them. I don’t want him thinking he got his spying from us.”

PRINCE MAEKAR

You and Baelor turned the corner and halted in your tracks. Opposite the hedge the two of you had been walking next to was none other than Maekar. His jaw and fists were clenched, and his cheeks were red under his beard. Tears were fast welling in your eyes.

“I’d like,” he hissed, “a fucking word.”

You almost cried in relief. “Of course, Your Grace. I’ll be off to give you so-”

“No!” He jabbed a finger at you. “You stay put. I do not want to even look at my brother right now.” He turned to Baelor and pointed the same finger. “You need to fuck off.”

To your dismay, Baelor obeyed his younger brother and hurried off towards the castle as fast as he could without running. Maekar’s boots paced back and forth, stomping in the grass and the foot-trodden dirt path.

“Un-fucking-believable.”

You chewed the inside of your cheeks and lips. You and Maekar had argued before, but never with true malice. You knew his boundaries and what buttons were alright to push and which were never to be touched. Your arguments were mutual sparring matches, sometimes for the entertainment of others. But not this time. This time it felt like you were being scolded. It felt like you were going to be sent away.

“What are your other reasons?”

You blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“What are your other reasons? Because the first one you gave is fucking stupid, so what other fucking stupid reasons have you come up with.”

Your face went hot with anger. “Stu- They are not fucking stupid!”

He spun on you and marched towards you, his face growing redder. “You really fucking think I’d tire of you? Tire of you and send you away? I know you play the fool but I didn’t think you actually were one.”

“How should I fucking know that?” you snapped.

He ignored you. “And why the fuck do you care so much about what random fucking people think of you? What they think of you and I? I never knew you were so shallow.”

“Fuck you!”

“No, fuck you!”

“You know what, never mind.” You backed away with your hands raised. “I’m done.” His heart seemed to break before your very eyes. “I say I’m worried you’ll fall out of love with me and send me away, and you call me stupid and shallow. Fuck you, hardass. Have a nice fucking life.”

You didn’t even get the chance to turn your back on him before he had flung himself forward and grabbed your shoulders.

“No, please. Please, I’m sorry. Can I-” Shaking hands wiped the tears from your cheek you hadn’t noticed falling. “Can I please explain? I- I don’t want you to leave.”

You shoved his chest. “You have a funny way of showing it.”

“I know. Can we sit? And I’ll explain.”

You let him guide you to a stone bench in the gardens. The pair of you had sat there often, watching his children play. Sometimes you would sit there with their tutors whilst he was away, trying to stand in during his absences. You had braided the girls’ hair, corrected the boys’ stances, and chided them for arguing, all from where you sat now.

Maekar sat beside you, his hand holding yours and not releasing it even after you tugged lightly. He took a shaky breath and cleared his throat before beginning.

“I don’t think I’ll ever tire of you.” His voice was quiet. “Or fall out of love with you. And I’d never send you away.” You lifted your joined hands and set them on his knee, squeezing the muscle of his thigh gently. “I like having you by my side.”

“I like being by your side,” you confessed, a lump in your throat.

“What are your other reasons? You said that was the main one but what are the others?”

You gestured to the empty clearing before you two. “Your children, Maekar. I don’t think they’d take kindly to you replacing their mother, even if that’s not what either of us mean by it.”

“They love you. You make Summerhall home for us all. It- It probably wouldn’t even change much for them if we- if we married.”

“I dunno. Sometimes… just speaking the words into existence changes things forever.”

A much less awkward pause before he asked again for your reasons.

“The last one is just… that you’re a prince. Your father is king. And I’m not trained for any of that. I don’t want to fuck something up for you or anyone else.”

Maekar knelt in the dirt and settled his arms and chin on your lap. He looked up at you with so gentle a look you felt your eyes burn with tears again.

“You could never fuck something up more than I already have.”

In spite of yourself, you barked a laugh. It was an ugly noise, thanks to the frog in your throat and the tears in your eyes and the shock of it all. And Maekar laughed too. You combed your fingers through his straight hair, gently running your nails against the skin of his scalp. He leaned into your touch and kept looking up at you.

“That’s true,” you teased, sniffling. “You have a shit way with words sometimes.”

He caught your hand and kissed the palm of it before letting it return to his scalp. “Yeah, I’ve figured that out, don’t worry.”

“I’m going to remind you anyway, hardass.”

“I probably deserve it.”

Maekar straightened and leaned forward, his mouth not too far from yours. All you needed to do to connect your two pairs was to lean forward yourself. “I think,” he said quietly, “that marriage may be too much for us at the moment. But… let’s give us, us being something, a try for a while. And see where that takes us.”

Your nose brushed against his, your eyes fluttering. “Mm. I’d like that.” His hand lifted from your lap and cupped your cheek, the calloused skin warm against you. “I’d like that a lot.”

You murmured those last words a hair’s breadth away from his mouth, and he closed the distance between you with a quiet gasp. Your fingers fell from his hair to his shoulders, clutching the fabric there. His arm wrapped around you and settled his hand between your shoulder blades, steadying the two of you. Tears transferred from your cheek to his, and he pulled away from your mouth to kiss them away, invoking shudders in you.

“Don’t,” you purred, in between breathy kisses after dragging him back to your mouth, “think you’re getting away from me that easily now.”

“Don’t ever let me get away,” he said, hand coming up to cup the back of your neck. “I want to be by your side forever.”

Enjoy reading this? Here's a link to my other works! Thanks for reading :-)

Posted: 2026 April 4

[bagofshinyrocks]

Part 1/2 - Never

Prompt: You explain to someone else that you would never marry him. He overhears.

Featuring: Ser Duncan the Tall; Prince Baelor Targaryen; Prince Maekar Targaryen

Word Count: 2.1k (about 700 each)

Content: angst, with comfort in a later part; gender-neutral reader w/o descriptors

Part 2

SER DUNCAN THE TALL

Ser Duncan’s gambeson was comically large in Egg’s hands. You supervised the boy’s careful fingers, nudging and reminding him of his stitches. The stitching around a few of the padding squares had come loose, and Egg was diligently trying to repair them. 

“Don’t worry about it, Egg. I’d rather you clean it too well and rip it than have Dunk walking about smelling poorly. And it’s good sewing practice for you.”

The boy hummed. “I’m not sure cleaning his clothes will do Ser Duncan much good. It’s him that needs the cleaning.”

You pinched the shell of the boy’s ear without much force and with no malice. “Dunk can do that himself. Your job is to care for his clothing.” Then, you pointed and murmured a correction of the boy’s stitches. “Wait, other way for that one.”

The three of you had stopped to make camp early, given that today was “make-and-mend” and time for all of you to bathe. You had bathed first while Dunk and Egg prepared the grounds for camp. You and Egg had done laundry whilst Dunk fetched groceries. Egg had bathed while you and Dunk organized the equipment. Now the hedge knight was bathing in the river. Once he returned, you would all eat dinner together. The horses idled in the nearby grasses, snuffling to each other in the same way you and Egg were chatting.

“May I ask you a personal question?” asked the little squire.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I dunno. What’s the question?”

“Do you love Ser Duncan?”

A sharp pain in your finger as you all but jammed the needle into it. “Fuck! I- What- Why would you ask me that?”

The boy looked up from his stitches. “Because I think you do love him, but I’m confused as to why you aren’t doing anything about it.”

“Not doing anyth- Egg, I left my home to wander the Seven Kingdoms with the two of you lunkheads. Most people would define that as ‘doing something about it’.”

“So you do love him?”

Your face was boiling hot. “Well,” you whispered, fixing your eyes on your bleeding fingertip, “yes, I guess so.”

“Do you want to marry him?”

You sucked your finger, tasting the metal of blood and welcoming any excuse not to speak for a moment. “It’s not that simple, Egg.”

The squire scoffed. “It is very much that simple.” “No, Egg, it’s not. If we were to marry, things would change. Seven Hells, if I were just to tell him that I loved him, things would change. And they could change for the worse. So yes and no. Yes, I want to marry him, but because I love him I would never do so.”

“Never?” The squire looked close to chewing you out.

“Listen, Egg.” You set down your sewing and turned to look the boy head-on. “Dunk is a good man. The best, in my eyes. So I fear that if I tell him I love him, and he loves me back, he’d want to do things properly.”

Egg rolled his big eyes. “And you don’t want things done properly?”

“I don’t want him to give up being a hedge knight for me.”

This took the boy aback and he seemed to work the idea through his mind a few times. You realized that your breath was coming in huffs and your heart was pounding against your rib cage.

“So,” began Egg. “You love Ser Duncan and do want to marry him, but you love him so much that you don’t want him to give up being a hedge knight in order to do so.”

“Mhm.”

“So you think that Ser Duncan loves being a hedge knight more than he loves you?”

A sinking feeling in your belly. Perhaps your heart had wriggled loose but instead of leaping through your chest had tripped on something and fell into your stomach. Then something, perhaps your heart or perhaps some bile, began to rise. Your throat and eyes burned.

“Something like that.”

“I’m seein’,” said Dunk from behind you, “a lot of you flappin’ your insolent mouth and not a lot of you makin’ and mendin’.”

PRINCE BAELOR TARGARYEN

“It pleases me to have you here,” said the Queen, leaning in with an almost conspiratorial air. She had invited you to break your fast together in the gardens, as her husband had risen earlier than she was wont to. You had realized too late that it was only the two of you at her table in the gazebo, and all of her other ladies-in-waiting and companions were sitting at other tables a distance away.

“I am honored to be with you, Your Grace. This is truly a wonderful day for breakfast out here.”

She hummed, musing about how she would break her fasts in Dorne and previous times where a breakfast had gone awry. As beautiful as everything was and as delicious as breakfast smelled, you felt your appetite fading away and your muscles growing tenser by the minute.

Her hand settled atop your white-knuckled fist.

“My dear,” she said kindly, those beautiful brown eyes that you recognized in Baelor looking at you with maternal kindness. “I wished to speak with you privately so you would not be so frightened. Please, take a breath.”

You huffed out a quick, rueful laugh and turned your hand so it might gently squeeze the queen’s. “Yes, of course, Your Grace. I thank you for that.”

“It’s about my son. Baelor.”

“I assumed so. Is there- Am I-” An embarrassed laugh. “Forgive me. Please, Your Grace, go ahead with what you were saying.”

“The two of you are fond of each other.” Her thumb rubbed the back of your hand and did not release it.

After taking her pause as your chance to respond, you did. “Yes, Your Grace. He and I are good friends and I very much enjoy his company. I am grateful for the time he makes for me.”

“Just friends?” Your breath came shakily. You tried half-a-dozen different sentences in your mouth before biting your tongue and looking out onto the lawns.

“Speak plainly, my dear,” said Myriah. “I am curious to know your thoughts. Share them, and we can edit them together.” You felt a hot tear escape your traitorous eye, which you rubbed away quickly. She stood from the table and brought her chair next to yours, making the arrangement that of peers rather than an interrogation.

“I care for your son,” you admitted, barely louder than whisper, as if you didn’t even want it to reach your own ears. “But I know what proximity to him entails, and I fear that.”

“The eyes on you?”

“In a way. More so that… I don’t think I’d be a good consort for him, if I may speak as if I know Prince Baelor’s feelings for me. I’m sure that Your Grace was not educated since infancy on how to be Queen of Westeros, but you were raised to be a Princess of Dorne. That is transferable in a way, or at least more transferable than my upbringing.” You felt even more betraying tears drip down your face. “His Grace deserves someone that would be an asset, an ally, rather than a burden or something else to look after. Someone to help him carry the weight of the realm rather than crawl up on his back as well.”

Myriah’s nostrils flared and her mouth twitched in the same way that her son did when he tried not to laugh at something. You giggled in spite of the situation.

“Then,” she said, “you do not wish to marry him.”

“No. Selfishly, I do not wish to marry him.”

“Selfish?”

You finally tore your eyes from the gardens and met her even gaze. “I do not want to disappoint him. I want him to continue liking me. Or loving me, I don’t know. And I’m afraid that I would only make a fool of myself and he would quickly regret his decision. It would be… humiliating.”

Her eyes softened, and then she caught sight of something over your shoulder.

“Baelor!” she snapped, “Eavesdropping on your mother’s private conversation is unbecoming!”

PRINCE MAEKAR TARGARYEN

In a rush of confidence you could hardly explain, you had invited the Crown Prince and Hand of the King to join you in walking the gardens after lunch. And for a reason even more mystifying, he had agreed.

“Are you enjoying Summerhall, Your Grace?” you chirped, your arm loosely looped through his. “I’d ask if you’re enjoying its peace and quiet, but I’m afraid your brother’s brood has scared off any such notion.” Baelor laughed, patting your hand. “But the estate and grounds are beautiful, if you don’t mind something nipping at your heels.”

“I am enjoying it immensely,” said Baelor, “It’s a more relaxing kind of turmoil, where the stakes are much lower. There are still arguments about who sits where, but the arguments are loud and in front of everyone.”

You snicker at the memory of Egg and Daella fighting over who got to sit next to Valarr at dinner the night before, which had to be resolved by their father bellowing over them. “Does King’s Landing have more or fewer proposed fights to the death?”

Another chuckle. “I do not know about King’s Landing, but in the Red Keep… very few. At least that reaches my ears.”

At this time of the season, the gardens were not yet fully blooming. Closed flowers were nearly raised by stems. Unripe fruits in hues of yellow and green hung from branches. The leaves were still little and fat. It was beautiful in its own way.

“May I speak frankly with you,” asked the Crown Prince.

You turned to him and adopted an exaggerated facial expression of fear. Once he laughed again, you dropped the exaggeration and smiled. “Of course, Your Grace. I’d rather you tell me to fuck off than force yourself to pretend I am amusing.”

He squeezed your arm. “I am not sending you away. I enjoy you and the invisible bell-hat you have donned.” 

You shook your head and imitated the sound of tinkling bells.

“Exactly. No, I have a more personal question for you. In regards to my brother.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, nodding sagely. “I see. Is it time for the ‘break my brother’s heart and I’ll break all of your bones’ conversation, Your Grace? Because I believe your little brother will break my bones himself, so don’t you worry about riding here from King’s Landing at a moment’s notice to do so.”

He laughed. “I have no doubt that my little brother can fight his own battles. No, I was going to offer my assistance to you.”

“Assistance?”

“Mm. Does he need a nudge?”

“A nudge how?”

Baelor rubbed a hand over his salt-and-pepper beard. “A nudge toward making the next step.” You looked away, your ears feeling warm. “My mother and I had to wrestle him to propose to Dyanna, as the fool had convinced himself that she didn’t feel the same way. And of course, she agreed. And the evidence of her feelings for him are the six children they have.” 

In any other circumstance, you’d be howling at Baelor’s blatant innuendo. But all you could muster was a half-hearted smile. “I see.”

The pause was long, and you felt the Crown Prince’s mismatched gaze fixed on you. Finally, he cleared his throat.

“Have I misread your relationship?”

You tried not to answer too quickly. “I’m afraid so, Your Grace. Maekar and I are… good friends. I enjoy his company, and I like to think he enjoys mine. But anything beyond that is out of the question.”

“Out of the question?”

“There are- There are so many reasons. But mainly, I wouldn’t be able to bear the shame if he ever stopped enjoying my company.” You laughed sadly. “A court fool being sent away is not necessarily terrible. Perhaps the lord had a short temper, or the fool’s sense of humor was not fitted for that particular court. But if we were to become something and he regretted it… I wouldn’t be able to bear the shame of having driven him away. Everyone would know it, too. That I was too much. That I-”

The pair of you turned the corner and halted in your tracks. Opposite the hedge the two of you had been walking next to was none other than Maekar. His jaw and fists were clenched, and his cheeks were red under his beard.

Here's a quick link to Part 2 of this.

Enjoy reading this? Here's a link to my other works! Thanks for reading :-)

Posted: 2026 April 4

[bagofshinyrocks]

If I were to start writing for Haikyuu!!, should I put it on this blog with my newer things or on my older blog with my previous anime stuff?

Older blog with all the other anime stuff

This blog with your newer works

I don't give a shit, bro, just write something for once <3

Voting ended onJul 21, 2025

[bagofshinyrocks]

hi there! would you write for tyrion or no? 😘💗

YIPPEE! yes boss babe I will write for him 💕

[bagofshinyrocks]

hey pookies

neither carrot nor stick can get me to write for the call of duty baby girls... i apologize my loves. the hyperfixation will return some day but it is not this day

instead, y'all can enjoy my game of thrones/a song of ice and fire hyperfixation if you so wish. feel free to drop comments, messages, or ideas/requests about those fuckers and the odds of me carroting/sticking myself into writing for them are much higher

to my beloved cod pookies, your time will come again i promise

[museaway]

I'm not ignoring my WIPs. they're ripening in my mental cellar

[bagofshinyrocks]

mine ferment, but yes

[anexperimentallife]

[charlesoberonn]

World history

[bagofshinyrocks]

LMFAOOOOO

[bagofshinyrocks]

not writing, just yapping

as some of you may know, I am a college student. it is the month of april. so i am currently in the first circle of hell. writing will come in the month of may.

BUT

i currently re-entered the phase where i listen exclusively to guzheng covers of music on youtube while i do homework and i need everyone else to hear these. and if you have any fun facts or recommendations i DEMAND THEM. love you all <3

[cannibal-stag]

hannibal is so cringefail because how do you successfully get away with literal murder and cannibalism for years all while being a well respected sophisticate and food connoisseur and then risk it all for a guy covered in dog hair who is also an asshole and also wants to kill you real bad

[bagofshinyrocks]

it's called being gay, babes <3

[staff]

for april fools we’re deleting this entire site sayonara you weeaboo shits

[bagofshinyrocks]

that's kinda fair actually...

[bagofshinyrocks]

H..hi w..will y-you g..go to t...tumblr p..prom w-with m-me...?

watching the izzzyzzz video essay "the tumblr controversy iceberg" with the homie and now she wants to go to tumblr university prom with me...

send me dress and/or suit ideas <3

[bagofshinyrocks]

okay i just wanted to say that i love your writing!! it is feeding into my gaz obsession as well. i'm going to be honest, i come back to your account to read them again...

TEE HEE HEE!!! i am so flattered. giggling kicking squealing. I'm so happy that there's re-readability!! thank you for leaving me a love note

i send you three million kissies

[bagofshinyrocks]

hello love !! just wanted to let you know that you're hella feeding my soap craze and you totally kickstarted my gaz obsession LMAO i'm obsessed with your prompt work 💕💕

(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) IM SO HAPPY YOU LIKE MY WORKS

Soap is one of my favorite little stinkers to write for, and I hope my Gaz characterization is good too. He's such a cutie patootie.

I send you a dozen smooches. Love you <3