Dragon age origins is like…. You’re nineteen, new in town, and it’s your second day at pizza hut. You don’t even know how to work the register yet and you just watched your manager get carted off by the paramedics. You have no contact info for him, his next of kin, or corporate. The only other employee is the guy who’s been here for two weeks and is a bit of a doofus, and neither of you really know what you’re supposed to do now. You both desperately need this job though, and the doofus at least has a drivers license and *kiiinda* knows how to use the oven so you just. Shrug, and start taking orders and making pizzas and praying to god that the bills are on autopay.
And weirdly enough you’re really good at this: making pizzas and dealing with shitty customers and breaking up fights in the parking lot and pretending to be Duncan’s cousin on the phone so the utility company doesn’t cut off the power. But running a store is a lot of work for two dumb kids, so slowly you start accumulating a bunch of competent weirdos to help out, like the nun who left her convent because god told her to help you make pizzas, and the elderly school teacher who just survived a mass shooting, and the guy the papa johns down the street hired to run you over. And really there’s no way any of this should be working as well as it is - you’re absolutely committing fraud of some kind here - but you’ve managed to dodge the landlord every time he’s stopped by, and the health inspector never shows up to tell you to stop letting your dog hang out behind the counter and you’re all still kinda looking at each other and asking ‘are we allowed to just do this?’ before shrugging again and continuing to make pizzas, until somehow, through a series of unlikely technicalities, your doofus coworker ends up on the ballot for governor.
And after like five months of this the regional manager wanders in out of nowhere and you’re sure he’s about to chew your ass out for this mess, but it turns out he’s pretty chill and honestly kind of impressed with how you managed to keep the place up and running all on your own. So now you’re all thinking ‘thank god, there’s someone here who actually knows how to run a Pizza Hut’ only for him to get hit by a car two days later on the night of the Super Bowl.
Summary: The first night in the Keep passes slowly. At the next dawn, she's free to roam... in limited spaces. She meets Baelor in the library, learning that something about him is not right.
It was silent. Perhaps too silent. You had expected to hear something. Anything. That servant had scared you enough that if someone was mauled by a bear outside of your room, you would keep that door shut.
Maybe she was trying to scare you.
It would make sense. Maybe it was their only form of joy here: scaring guests senseless.
You had stayed up next to your oil lamp. You stitched, read, anything you could to ignore the quickening of your heart every time your ears caught the faintest noise.
The oil lamp gave just enough light. It lit your surroundings, but dissipated before it reached the far walls. It was just enough, but you couldn't help but want more.
Another sound, slight. But it caught your attention all the same.
Hesitating footsteps. They padded up the corridor, towards your room.
You held your breath, doing everything in your power to not move an inch. Maybe staying up was a mistake.
The steps were louder, just outside your door. Then, they stopped.
You cupped a hand over your mouth, eyes wide on the door. The silence that followed made a hum buzz in your ears. You weren't sure how long it was there, but long enough that your limbs ached from stiffness.
Then as it came, it was gone.
You didn't hear anything for the rest of the night, but your heart raced until the sun rose.
…
You were ready before your handmaidens rose. You didn't mind it. You had a set way you got ready every morning, and it was something small that you wanted to keep as a reminder of home.
You'd picked a bright dress today, a soothing lavender with a square neckline that was always your favorite back home. The Keep was colder than home, but the chills only spurred you to not stay in one place.
You had a temporary guard for the daytime. Something about the Targaryens wanting to pick the right guard before establishing him as your sole protector. But you didn't mind.
The man followed a few paces behind you, eyes sharp. You noticed the way he entered every room— checking the corners and shadows carefully. You thought it a bit paranoid, but you couldn't blame him. He had a big responsibility.
He had guided you to the library, one of the few places you think you were allowed to go to.
The library was huge, with ancient tombs and scrolls you were sure half the Realm didn't even know about. It was more vast than anywhere in your family castle.
You let yourself get a bit lost, hands wandering over the spines along the large shelves.
"You seem impressed."
You gasp, spinning around.
Baelor Targaryen stands at one of the other shelves. You're not sure how long he's been there. You could've sworn it was empty when you entered. Perhaps you're just that clueless.
"Forgive me, my prince. I did not mean to interrupt your studying. I… I can leave—"
"Please." He holds a hand up. "Stay. I could use the company."
Even as you try to ease yourself, his eyes don't leave your figure. He watches you, head tilting like he's unsure what to make of you. And he doesn't move.
You swallow down the awkwardness, moving back to the shelf and ignoring his ever knowing stare.
You find yourself pulling down a rather thick and opening it.
Targaryen history.
Interesting enough.
You look back to Baelor with a slight smile, quite forced, and make yourself comfortable at one of the many tables.
The book is huge, leather bound, and dusty. It's clearly been untouched for a long time. Upon opening it, a mist of particles enter the air, making you let out a quiet sneeze.
Baelor gets closer.
You begin to look over the content, but can't seem to pay attention. Not when the crown prince is staring at you like you're the most interesting thing he can learn from in the entire room.
You become manually aware of your breathing, forcing yourself to take deep breaths from your mouth. You know your heart is beginning to race.
You see his hand suddenly rest on the table close to you, his body almost leaning over you. Just enough to be considered borderline improper. You expected to feel warmth at the suddenly proximity, but instead, you feel colder.
"What interest do you have in the Doom of Valyria?" His voice is low, calculated.
"Hm?" Your head turns to catch his eye. He's bent down now to almost level himself with you. He's near, so near you think you can see a shine to his eyes that surely shines in the dark like a predator.
He ignores your gaze, keeping his own on the book. He gives away nothing. "The Doom of Valyria. Why read about it?"
When you look back to the book, you see that indeed, you were reading about the Doom. "Oh. I… I just want to understand."
That's when he finally looks at you. His eyes are mismatched, a light blue that captures the attention of anyone looking at him. The other was a dark brown, almost red towards the pupil. And when both looked at you, you immediately felt a pull.
Your lips part, your attention far from the book. But when you didn't answer, he speaks. "Understand what, exactly?"
When he asks, oh so carefully, you swear you see the peak of sharp teeth from under his top lip. You can't help but stare. You're not sure when you began to lean in. But suddenly, the distance between you both is closing and you can't control it.
He notices that dazed look in your eyes and looked away. The moment his pupils quick looking at you, you feel your thoughts suddenly coming back.
You blink. "Um… I want to understand House Targaryen."
He hums, a small nod of his head as he considers your answer. "Well, I can have a tutor requested for you. They could teach better than any book could."
"I'm not sure," you shy. "I rather like reading. It gives me something to do."
"Well, do not start with that one, then." He almost snatches it off the table, snapping it with a close. He returns it to the shelf. He looks over the wall for a while before settling on a different book. It's smaller, not as dusty.
When he returns and hands it to you, you sneeze again. He smiles.
You make sure not to look at him for very long. You don't think your mind could take it again. Reading this book could be more manageable. "That's very kind of you. Thank you."
He watches you open it. The first part begins with the Targaryens already in Westeros. "My prince, this has nothing about Essos in it."
He's quick to answer. "The Doom is not important. Start here."
You accept that, reading over the first few pages. You ignore the way he leans over you again, assuming to read over the material himself.
You wait a little extra at the end of each page, but he gives no indication that he's ever finished. Perhaps he reads faster than you. If anyone could, it would be a prince.
The Targaryens lived in Dragonstone. Aegon the Conqueror invaded and took over Westeros. All the same history you already knew most of, but getting the smaller details was nice as well.
It makes you wonder just how far those Targaryens would go to gain more power, especially now that they are without dragons.
What you miss behind you is the way Baelor isn't paying attention to the book. Instead, he's filling his lungs with oxygen that he doesn't need; he's smelling you.
He does this for a while, committing it to memory. He had caught a whiff of it last night from outside your door, but it was better this close. Especially with your neck so exposed in that dress. Your hair was up. He could so easily—
The book snaps shut.
"Forgive me, my prince, but I should retire to my chamber. You're a busy man, and I thank you for indulging me."
The distance between the two of you makes him realize the warmth that leaves him. You warm him.
It's an odd feeling. He hadn't felt warm since Jena.
"I'll escort you myself," he insists.
"Oh, I couldn't ask you to."
"Please," he smiles carefully, and you realize: it wasn't really a request.
Your back straightens. "Of course."
He offers his hand. You take it.
His fingers are freezing. The rings adorning his fingers only seem to make it worse.
The walk through the corridors is silent. Your guard follows behind, a long distance away. He doesn't even look up at the prince, much like the rest of the servants. He almost seems to kick his feet out with each step, just trying to maintain a heavy distance.
"When you have that finished," the prince says, "Come to me. I will find you a new one."
"Thank you. Really." You clutched the book tighter, seeing your room coming up. "Might I be truthful, your grace?"
His head tilts, but he allows you.
"The Keep… it's… colder than I imagined."
"Cold?" He says, suddenly on edge. "Did the night grow cold? Shall I have your hearth burn brighter?"
"No, well, perhaps. But that's not what I meant. I only meant… well, for guests…"
"Ah," he breathes. "It's unwelcoming."
Your eyes widened. "I wouldn't say that. You are quite generous to let me into your home."
He says your name quietly, softly, almost to himself. No titles. "You are no guest."
You stop outside of your room, facing him. "As you say, your grace."
He studies the rising heat in your cheeks. Human embarrassment. It's almost amusing. He holds your intertwined hands up, kissing your knuckles. "You are no guest," he says again, more assuring.
"Thank you, then," you breathe softly. You reach back and open the door to your room.
As he keeps your eye contact, you decide you've learned better than the last time.
And you catch the way he naturally leans in.
You take a knowing step back, into your room, pulling away from him completely.
He naturally steps forward, the toe of his boot mere millimeters from that sandy line you wanted to know more about.
You take another step back, just to egg him on to cross it. To see if he would. If he could.
He rests a hand on the doorframe and shifts his weight until both boots rest just at the line.
"You won't come in?" You ask.
His head tilts. "Seems improper to. If the lady does not want it."
"You're a gentleman, my prince," you smile to yourself. "I admire that."
He smiles, and this time, you're sure you see the sharp canines. Maybe even a flash of red in his eyes. "Of course, I can be a gentleman. I'll tell the servants to warm your chamber. I will not have my future bride freeze."
He backs away to walk off, but you come to your side of the line. "Your grace?"
You have his attention.
"Thank you. Again."
That look in his eye… it makes you step onto the line. Just one more step. It makes an obvious flaw in the line. And for a second, just a second, you watch Baelor try to keep his composure. He doesn't look away from your eyes. But for some reason, you know that he knows that line is ruined. As if a barrier was taken down.
He bites on his bottom lip, pupils dilating for just a moment. And like that, he takes another step back, and turns to walk away.
You step out into the hall, mouth open to ask if you had said something wrong, but he beats you to it.
"Have that fixed by tonight," is all he offers over his shoulder.
A boundary line, keeping him from your room, and gods know what else. You look over the book in your hand again, leaving you with two questions:
What was in that other book that he didn't want you to know?
Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+.
Lyonel Baratheon x Wife!Reader
Masterlist
A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms Masterlist
General Synopsis: Lyonel is horrified to discover what conditions his new wife comes from, and you are just as horrified to learn that things are not practiced in the world as they are within your father's House. A good wife is obedient, by correcting hands if need be. That is the philosophy you have been raised on since birth. A lady obeys. A lady agrees. A lady endures. Lyonel does not want you to endure, but some habits are so much harder break. (slow burn)
Content Warnings: emotional abuse (parental), child abuse (punishment), psychological conditioning, trauma responses, arranged marriage, anxiety, mention of first time intercourse, slow burn, angst.
AN: This fic won the vote! I promise that this is not all doom and gloom, but the reader has a rough go of it at the beginning. Lyonel has my entire heart in this.
** = smut
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight**
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten**
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve**
i'm conducting an experiment. everyone who's from an english speaking country state your country, regional area and what you call the following images. i need to see something
For the chronically anxious and/or otherwise mentally ill:
This is not a screamer, jumpscare, or any other kind of horror link I don’t know the name of. It will not cause you to question reality and as far as I’m aware, there is no reason it should cause any kind of hallucinations or psychosis. I don’t want to spoil the surprise because it’s DELIGHTFUL but I am happy to tell you it’s very sweet and gentle and also great lowkey stress relief. This is a cinnamon roll link appropriate for all ages (yes, all the way down to babies) and you will enjoy it if you click it. ❤️
Do you have any fave rebelcaptain fics/ones that you consider like a staple/must read of the fandom?? I haven’t been here very long and don’t really know where to begin 😅 thank you in advance for any recs! 🫶
hello, anon! sorry it took me a while to get back to this but here you go. I don't like the terms staple or must read when it comes to fandom, but here's a non-extensive list of my favorites:
Canon-verse
We've Been Here Before by @angel-deux-writes
tell all the truth (but tell it slant) by @maixela
Euphony by JackofSomeTrades
Asterisms and Finding Home Without a Map (series) by @incognitajones
show a little loving, shine a little light on me by ev0lution
semantics (series) by katsumi
Take Me Home by crystalkei
I've Lived Since Then by scioscribe
Modern (and other) AUs
In the Shadows by StormDancer
A Friendly Agreement by FluffMonster42
PRONTO NOS VEREMOS OTRA VEZ by hotel_raleigh
Soldier's Heart by @rifle-yes
only fools rush in by andromeda3116
All the Broken Hearts in the World Still Beat by @mosylufanfic
@skitzofreak THANK YOU FOR ENABLING ME I’M SORRY THIS IS TERRIBLE
I don’t know if/when I’ll post another snippet of this, but it was bloody fun.
For reference: Jyn is the Inquisitor (city elf/apostate mage), Cassian is Cullen, K is Sera (sort of), Bodhi is Cole, Baze is Iron Bull but less kinky, Chirrut is Dorian but more kinky, Steela Gerrera is Cassandra, Ahsoka is Leliana, Anakin is Solas but I don’t want to hit him nearly so often which is only an improvement (Solas is an assbutt), Lando is Varric, and Mothma is Vivienne. I don’t know who Blackwall is, but I don’t care overmuch about Blackwall, to be quite honest.
“I hate this place,” says Kei, not very quietly. “Orlesians smell like rotting flowers.”
“Kindly shut up before someone hears you,” says Holdo, her smile never dropping. “They take offense quite easily here, you know.”
“Like I care if someone’s offended.”
Bodhi strokes the crow on his shoulder, and croons to it in some dialect that died out centuries ago.
Here are fanfic recommendations for Oshamir (Osha x Qimir) from The Acolyte! Some of these stories fit into multiple categories. I'll be adding more to the list as I find em!
Canon-Divergance
Salvation / Damnation by of_stars_and_scars
pedagogy by narqueen
Tell me, why does my heart burn this way? by writteninblue
forgive these bones I'm hiding by justatinycollector
Seduction and Obsession by Pincushion_Flower
Starlight by FairyRingsandWings
And the Flesh that Sings by nothanksgrimy
Reverence by heartandthehead
born from dark water (daughter of the rain and snow) by mostardent
wings by thefudge
The Harmony You Crave by LostElysium
Takes place during Season One
crave/spurn by VPB2396
The Dark Side of the Moon by HomeAgainRose
Takes place after Season One
Recovery and Renewal by Samansurahime
there's something about power by signifier
cascade ocean wave blues come by NeonGenesisisis
The Power of Two by truehumandisaster
the fall by absentheart
Echoes of a Dying Star by PeachieSuntory
nom de guerre by the-reylo-void (Anysia)
Trust by LRRH17
Adrift / Anchored by of_stars_and_scars
Shattered / Stitched by of_stars_and_scars
ascendance by last_honey
surrender by last_honey
Soulmate Aus
we bleed the same by satal
tell me you’ll meet me (tell me you’ll keep me) by Stratisphyre
Stranger Mine Chapter 2 by AnonymousMink
Crave / Starve by flythesail
Gremlin/Greasy Qimir
a verb in perfect view by callistos
Supernatural Creature AU
Stranger Mine Chapter 3 by AnonymousMink (Vampire)
once in flight by satal (Dragon)
Kismet by FormerlyIR (Irony_Rocks) (Vampire)
Strange Stars Chapter 2 by FairyRingsandWings (Mermaid)
Alternate First Meeting/First Meetings
Stranger Mine Chapter 1 by AnonymousMink
Poison by flythesail
sugar coated, lies unfolded by callistos
A Lover's Revenge by FairyRingsandWings
Be my submissive, my obedient pupil by vickyblueeyez
Modern AU
heavy is the head... by FormerlyIR (Irony_Rocks) (Mob AU)
The Accidental Duo by witwithfolly (College/Uni AU)
The Second Will Cost You by dangerwillrobinson (College/Uni AU)
roll for initiative! by dangerwillrobinson (High School AU)
Ricochet by dangerwillrobinson
The Antidote by Aladina (Mob AU)
we could make this easy by the-reylo-void (Anysia)
between stars on hollywood blvd. by jellyfishdango (Movie Co-Stars AU)
Alternate Universe
Ouroboros by FormerlyIR (Irony_Rocks) (Omegaverse AU)
The Knife You Twist by dangerwillrobinson (Spies & Secret Agents AU)
i'm a screamer baby (make me a mute) by shippismermaid (Serial Killer AU)
i think all quiet on the western front and the lord of the rings are in direct conversation with each other, as in theyre the retelling of the same war with one saying here’s what happened, we all died, and it did not matter at all and another going hush little boy, of course we won, of course your friends came back
someone should remake lord of the rings as a grandfather telling a fantasy story to his grand child with flashbacks to world war one showing the dead boys and men the characters were based on. grandpa why didn’t they just fly. because they didn’t. they didn’t.
I will never get over how Tolkien & Lewis took the horrors of war and spun them into fantasy.
Shivering in the trenches dreaming of cozy hobbit holes, shaking as bombs pockmark a forest and imagining each shallow mud-filled crater contains a new world—that maybe there are still as many beautiful things in the universe as there are bombs—that maybe the world is bigger than this moment and this ugliness and one day this will be a peaceful forest again full of small ponds.
I mean look at these photos of the shell craters in Sanctuary Woods, near Ypres Belgium and tell me it’s not the Wood Between The Worlds:
Happy B-day to one of the sweetest people I know @quarantineddreamer! Much love from myself and @frostbitepandaaaaa!
We hope you enjoy your gift! A certain someone told me you’d like an X-Files AU. (:
“I think you’d have better luck interviewing the victim, Andor.”
Cassian turns around, undeniably relieved to see his partner, Special Agent Jyn Erso, perched on the bottom stair of the half-rotted stoop. She blinks up at him from under the brim of her almost comically large umbrella. Her eyes are knowing, her expression as lucid as ever. She had, no doubt, witnessed the entire debacle between him and the local law enforcement on her short trip from the car to the sway-backed and moss-fringed front porch of their newest crime scene investigation.
“Ah, that’s not my job, Erso, that’s all you,” Cassian tosses back archly. Jyn rolls her eyes and he comes to join her on the bottom stair. He assumes that she does not wish to venture inside the rotted, sodden prairie Colonial until absolutely necessary (and perhaps is wanting to dodge the ire of the local sheriff that Cassian had just pissed off in almost record time).
“Lay it on me, Andor. What is it this time?” Jyn asks, trying to sound bored but he knows better. His partner likes to evoke the straight-laced, no-nonsense career woman but Agent Jyn Erso is also the most accomplished forensic pathologist and scalpel wielder in the FBI… perhaps in the whole damn country. And one doesn’t reach such lofty acclaim by being squeamish. She had also quietly denied several career opportunities over the years that could be considered, well, more sane, in favor of chasing lights in the sky and slicing and dicing in backwater morgue bays.
Had stuck with him. But he tries not to think about that part.
He ducks under the umbrella and they venture out in the weedy front yard in tandem. Jyn makes no effort to accommodate his seven inch height advantage and Cassian does not expect her too. The rain is a dismal, steady drizzle and much of his back is damp within a few steps.
“The victim— 34, male— looks to have been frightened to death,” he announces as if commenting on the shitty weather.
“Cassian,” she groans, stopping to look at him like he had just expressed his desire to join the circus. He knows that tone well. It’s also never a good sign whenever she uses his first name. “Frightened to death?”
He nods, trying, and apparently failing, to keep the amusement off his face because Jyn’s eyes close and she sighs mightily as they continue on their way. “You ever heard of the Boogey Man, Erso?”
“There’s no such thing—“
“Look, I’ll leave it to you, Dr. Erso. Once you get the autopsy done and dusted then you can call me crazy.”
They reach the car and Jyn pulls the door handle on the passenger side. She drove here, but she is not fond of driving— especially when there is a perfectly good man to do it for her— and Cassian is always happy to oblige her in her few glints of prissiness.
She closes the umbrella, shakes out the rain and swings her sensible kitten heels into the car. “Cassian, I’ll save us both some time.” She leans precariously close to him, elbow on the center console of their little rented Cabriolet. He freezes in the midst of fastening his seatbelt (after having to push the seat back what felt like a good four feet). Her hair is damp and a bit wild despite the shelter of the umbrella (her hair always gets frizzy in the humidity— he thinks it’s unbearably cute) and he can smell her perfume. His heart stops in his chest.
“You’re crazy,” she pronounces sagely and falls back into her seat.
He puffs out a laugh, shakes his head, and fires up the car.
