♡ Hi, I'm Tricia, or Trish is fine. I'm going to write an introduction and include a kind of set of rules for requests now that I've got a few more coming in!
Rules + masterlist
About me
♡ I'm 18, and I'm autistic. This means that perhaps i may interpret things differently, so I'll ask you to please be kind and polite when interacting because I might take things too personally! All hate will just be blocked.
♡ This also means my hyperfixations can come and go as they please, so I might not write your request if Im not interested in that specific character anymore, etc. I am also not a professional by any means, and this is only a hobby for me, so judge accordingly.
♡ I try to make my reader as inclusive as possible, so I avoid using descriptions of hair textures, lengths, or race specific characteristics like pale skin and blushing, etc. If you ever feel like I've not been inclusive anywhere in a fic, please just let me know, and I will change it!
♡ I love films! Feel free to send recommendations of your favourites or anything you've watched recently! I love a chat! You can also request any characters from any tv shows that you think I'll like and I'll look into them.
Rules
♡ Be polite
♡ Hate will be blocked
♡ Asked if you want to be tagged in works
What i won't write
• Extreme kinks, so no rape or cnc/dubcon or whatever NO INCEST or pseudo incest.
• Hyperspecific readers, I try to be as inclusive as possible. I also probably dont know enough about certain characteristics.
• Real people
• Self-harm, explicit suicide or extreme mental illness.
I think I'm going to start writing for From. Why is there hardly anything anythingggg, im dying. I'll write smut, angst and fluff. Send me any requests if you are interested!!
I cant believe that majority of people on Instagram are blaming BB for what happened to Daniel. He made a choice. Also not to mention Buck is the one who killed him? These people will do anything to put the blame on a woman.
CONTENT - a few headcanons, no smut but kind of suggestive at the end.
WC - 600.
NOTES - no one asked for this but i can't get enough of a man wearing a suit.
Buck who loves how your name sounds in his mouth, and does everything so that he can call you by your name. Often being sarcastic or teasing you in some way, using a condescending tone that leaves you irritated and flattered at the same time.
Buck who likes to see you taking control in certain situations and see how much pressure you can handle until you set your pride aside and ask for help. And he always helps you, a true gentleman.
Buck who is undoubtedly dominant in every area of his life, and manages to be subtle about it but still shows this side of himself by dropping quick remarks to you. “Good job. Keep it up.” In a way, it’s as if he’s training a little puppy.
Buck who is always impeccable. Hair perfectly styled, tailored suits, polished shoes and a scent of cologne that makes you dizzy with his proximity as he practically covers you when leaning over the table with your back pressed against his chest. He is always quick, but the shiver that runs through your body always prevails.
Buck who, when is focused on some work for Fisk, is extremely cold and direct. You know which occasions that happens just by his icy look, which is usually more cordial towards you.
Buck who devours you with his eyes whenever he has the chance. Chin lifted, a small sideways smile and his eyes following you like a shadow. In his mind, you already belong to him.
Buck who is possessive with those he likes – he prefers the word protective but doesn’t mind being labeled a villain if it means you’ll be safe, and by his side you always are. He doesn’t like seeing you talking to certain people, and at the same time that he finds you brilliant, strong and capable of making good decisions, he also finds you very naive. But he knows he can take care of you, all you have to do is let him fulfill his role.
Buck who likes to make you nervous, but also loves to hear your laughter. One moment he is teasing you, whispering in your ear, scanning your actions to point out a mistake; the next he is making jokes (and usually only he understands them) and watching your reaction, waiting for a smile.
Buck who casually touches you, hands on your waist as he passes behind you, fingers on your chair as he stops behind it, fingers lingering a little longer than they should when handing you a document.
Buck who was genuinely left open-mouthed when he saw you truly dressed up, a party hosted by the mayor, your hair impeccable and your clothes hugging your curves in a way he had never seen. It was perhaps the first time you left him speechless. “No teasing today, Cashman?”
Buck who definitely has his share of fetishes, dominant (rarely a switch), a fan of size kink, loves to praise you and instruct you, casually rougher, likes to leave marks to remind you of the night with him. Long and intense kisses, but he is also fascinated by games and will make you beg for his touch if he feels like it.
Buck who has invited you to dinner with him on more than one occasion, something in your intuition told you not to accept his invitations, but with each one it becomes harder to refuse.
Buck who is old-fashioned. If he invites you to dinner, he is taking you to one of the best restaurants he knows, picks you up and drops you off at home, and expect a single rose as a gesture of gratitude for letting him take you out.
Benjamin Poindexter + Buck Cashman w/ Autistic!F!Reader
Buck Cashman
You probably met at work, your probably doing something in admin so you only see him in passing or if you have to organise something together.
He likes that you follow the rules and he notices that you've yet to fail a task you've been given. He likes an organised lady.
He doesn't mind your lack of eye contact whilst you speak, he's never thought that you aren't paying attention but just thinks you're nervous talking to him.
He 100% has your whole routine in his calender. Will call you when he knows your on your break - no matter where he is.
He's not put off if you don't have many friends tbh because neither does he. He might be confused by it though, because he finds you so lovely. he just considers himself lucky he doesn't have to fight loads of people to spend time with you.
He loves your honesty and straightforward nature. You're both adults, theres no need to play games with communication and dance around what you really want from each other.
Has 0 problem ordering for you at restaurants or in cafes if you aren't feeling it. Most likely he already knows what you want anyway because he has a list in his notes app of the things you like.
You don't mind it that he works late most nights, you just would prefer it if he lets you know if he is. That way you aren't just waiting for him or knowing to leave some dinner out for him. He will just send you a text if he can't ring you.
< going to be late home tonight, goodnight sweetheart.>
<don't leave the key in the door. Haha.>
He found your strict routine funny at first, always going to bed at the same time, sitting in the same chair or the order you brush your teeth in. But he's really fallen into rhythm of it, he enjoys it compared to the unpredictability of his work so likes how when he comes home he knows what to expect.
Loves to listen to you ramble about your special interests and loves to ask follow up questions. If he sees something that he thinks you'll like he's definitely getting it.
I think you work really well together because he's so cool and collected. He always knows how to stop you from ruminating.
Will 100% help you prepare a script for a social situation and you'll role-play.
"So I'm going to go into the cafe." You walk back across the room, and walk towards him.
"Yes. Then you'll walk to the counter." He stands on the otherside of the kitchen counter, waiting for the kettle to boil. His shirt sleeves are undone, rolled up to his forearms.
"Right. Then what do I say? Okay wait - you be the guy behind the counter and i'll be me." You pace back across the room and re-enter.
"Hi. What can I help you with today?" He does in his best customer service voice.
"Hello. I would like an iced coffee please."
"Splendid. Can I get a name?" His arms reach out mimicking picking up a cup and a pen.
You pause for a second trying to even remember your own name.
"Oh Buck - what if I get it wrong? What if they don't sell iced coffee? What if iced coffee isn't real and I've made it up? And then everyone in the shop gets up and points and laughs at me?"
His mouth curves slightly, holding in a breath worried he will laugh at you. He lets out a short scoff before opening his mouth, "That would be terrifying. I don't think that will happen." He shakes his head. "At least it's never happened to me before. And I'm pretty sure iced coffee is real."
"What if it's a joint illusion?"
----
Benjamin Poindexter
You could meet him anywhere. You could be waking down the street one day and he will notice you. If you're reserved, he gets so obsessed with trying to figure you out. He spends hours trying to fill in the gaps. Easily makes track of your routines, the way you walk to work or the shops you enter at exactly the same time everyday.
He loves how organised your apartment is, his stuff fits right in. Most the time he doesn't even have to move anything because you've already got it covered.
Your routines just make sense to him, he also follows them and copies your order of things. He finds it soothing knowing exactly what your next move is.
Honestly prefers it if you've got few friends, he has low self esteem so he tends to get jealous if you spend too much time with other people.
He also doesn't mind lack of eye contact but at some point it becomes intense unblinking eye contact when you're speaking to each other. You can just stare into each other souls whilst speaking to each other and it's completly normal for you both.
Also enjoys your honesty because he is the exact same. Why would he need to lie to you? Why would you both not just talk about what you want?
I feel like you have the type of relationship where you might not necessarily be in contact with each other for months at a time but nothing changes. You can just pick right back up after where you left off.
Your relationship is very intense. Meaning when you are having a great time its GREAT. but if you argue then its the lowest of low. Genuinely you both can't stand arguing and both end up just wanting to die.
You ask him to tell you if he's coming home late - but he tends to completely forget and his texts are irregular.
His impulsiveness stresses you out, so you tend to have to try find a balance.
He probably is your special interest. You just want to always learn more about him and spend all your time with him - which he doesn't mind at all. Your probably a bit co-dependent on each other.
You know how to talk each other down from panic attacks etc. Knowing what exactly makes it better, whether thats doing some deeep breaths together or going on a run together.
you've always got Dex's headphones in your bag and some sour candy.
If you journal he is 100% reading it. He just feels entitled to it and wants to know everything that's going on in your mind.
You both talk each other through scripts and roleplays. Wether it's what the appropriate thing is to say to a friend who's lost a relative or mastering the art of small talk.
"Let's practise okay, Dex." You sit next to each other, knees knocking from the proximity. "The funeral is tomorrow,"
"We have never even met this guy more than once," he smirks, "why are we even going?"
"It's the polite thing to do. And we were invited. Be serious Dex - I don't know what i'm supposed to say tomorrow. What if it's awkward?"
"Alright. We can practise."
"So..." he rolls his shoulders in preparation, "I'm sorry about your friend. He seemed like a good guy." He looks forward into the room pretending there's someone there.
"Yeah -" you nod in agreement at Dex and then to the imaginary person in the room, you both await a response before you reply, " i'm sorry that sounds really hard,"
He looks at you for a moment, "i like that one," his teeth flash between his lips, drawing into a smile. "It sounds good. Its convincing."
A/n: shameless self indulgence Im soz #sorrynotsorry + this is just my experience with autism but if u want me to write for your personal traits just ask and ill make a part 2 for u friends :3
i absolutely loved you’re buck cashman x vigilante!reader work and honestly i need more…although only if you’re willing to write more of course 
Dry humping w/Buck Cashman x Vigilante!reader 18+
His hand moves quickly, covering your mouth and pulling you towards him into the cupboard. The voices of anti-vigilante task force fill the room, heavy boots thundering through the room - the clicking of assault rifles following.
Your heart is pounding in your chest, the man behind you pressed firmly against your back, slowly removing his hand from your mouth. Moments pass, before your legs begin to ache at the awkward position your holding yourself in.
You move slightly to adjust but you stumble backwards just enough to brush your ass against the seam of his slacks. He lets out a small sigh at the contact. Heat begins to pool in your cheeks, embarassed at how can feel the warmth from your core already beginning.
You shuffle slightly, turning round so your chests are pressed against each other instead and you hope he can feel the swell of your breasts against his shirt. His hands apprehensively twitch at his sides before finding their way home on your waist. He drags your hips forward, nudging a knee between your legs - encouraging you to accommodate for it.
Your legs spread eagerly, dragging the length of your cunt along his thigh before nestling at the top. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer so you can whimper into the skin.
You roll your hips again, this time you can feel the growing bulge beneath you. His hips stutter, pushing his straining cock against your heat drawing out gasps from you. His fingers flick up, parting your lips and laying flat against your tongue. "You're going to have to be quiet, sweetheart, be a good girl for me, alright?" He whispers gently into your ear.
You suck his fingers in agreement, teeth lightly coming down to bite at them. You slowly swirl your tongue around the digits, giving them long licks imitating what you'd do if you had his dick in your mouth.
He grinds against you again, pushing against you and rubbing against your clit just right. He moves back and forth again, setting a rhythm that has your back arching and your nails dragging against his neck.
He holds you tenderly, wishing he could see the expressions on your face and the way your body moves against his. Just the thought has his hips bucking into yours, creaming in his pants.
A/n sorry its not very long i was kind of stuck on what I wanted to doooo
You push the barrel of the gun closer to his forehead, making contact with the skin. He's on his knees before you, nestled in the space between your legs. Both his hands are raised in the air, signaling his surrender.
"I won't try anything," he speaks calmly, for someone moments away from death. You watch the rise and fall of his shirt clad chest, his blazer long discarded somewhere in the warehouse. His body matches yours - both try to regain your breath from previous the encounter. "Just drop the gun."
You stay silent, pushing the barrel against his head again as a response. This time clicking the safety off.
You lean closer, until his breath is hot against the fabric covering your face. Your left hand reaches upwards, fingers tugging up your mask slightly so you can feel it against your skin.
Your eyes flicker into his own, challenging him to make a move so you can put a bullet in him. His gaze meets yours, unblinking. His fingers twitch in the air before his eyeline lowers, looking at the shape of your lips, analysing and checking for familiarities.
"I'm going to put my hands down - alright?" His arms lower, pressing against the floor on either side of you. Caging you in. Your heart is still pounding, the situation not made any better at the increased proximity of you both. You take in his features, you've never been this close. Finally coming to the conclusion that he's even more handsome this way, you think.
His lips are parted, as if wondering what the right thing to say is. Thinking what the next step in the handbook would be, and how years of military experience never covered anything like this.
You begin to wonder how his lips would feel against your own, would they be soft and chaste scared of you slipping away - or rough and demanding, taking what he wanted? His hands gripping at your body beneath him, spreading your legs. Would his tongue press against your mouth, begging for entrance, and god you'd let him. You bite your lower lip in-between your teeth, trying to distract yourself from the thought.
He catches the movement, before nestling closer. His thighs press against your own. "Are you going to let me kiss you?" He wispers out, searching your expression for an answer he cant find.
The gun remains against his forehead, before trailing down to just below his jaw. "Easy, sweetheart -" Your other hand reaches upwards, entertwining your fingers with his tie and pulling him against you.
His lips find yours, pushing you down until your back hits the hard floor beneath you. His body presses against yours, spreading your legs further - his bulge pressing against the heat of your cunt.
Your hand releases his tie, sliding across his firm shoulders and up towards the base of his neck. Giving the hair a firm tug, causing him to shudder out a moan. Your tongue slides out, pressing between his lips drinking up the noises he makes. You catch his lip between your teeth, pressing your gun against his throat as a reminder.
He leans impossibly closer, his tongue now tracing against your own, before pulling away with a string of spit connecting you both. His gaze has darkened, eyes glazed over and lips swollen from your assault.
You press your lips against his neck, only to be stopped by the confines of his shirt collar, you tug at the fabric - hoping he takes the hint. "I've got it." His hands lift from his sides, making quick work of his tie whilst you fiddle with the many buttons. Finally tugging the shirt open to the sternum, your lips meet his collarbone sucking on the smooth skin beneath. Dark purple bruises are left against the expanse of his neck, leading up to his sharp jaw.
You lean back to examine you work but he quickly replaces the distance by leaning in again, pressing open mouthed kisses against your jaw and down your throat. This time they travel further, his strong hands tugging at the clothes against your body and settling against your waist. "I want to taste you -"
The gun now presses back against his temple, causing him to pause for a moment. You wave the gun in confirmation, tilting it towards your cunt before returning it to him. He begins to tug down your pants, exposing your soaked panties to him. The wet fabric pressing against you, outlining your pussy has him twitching in his slacks.
His hands wrap around your thighs, spreading them wider and tugging your panties upwards rubbing them against your clit. You bite back a moan between your lips.
A finger hooks beneath them, tugging them to the side and exposing your cunt to the man before you. His tongue flickers out, licking a long stripe from your weeping hole up to your sensitive bundle of nerves at the top. Your back arches, fingers reaching down to tug on his hair again.
He laps at your clit, a hand splayed across your abdomen holding you down whilst he works. "Does that feel good, sweetheart?"
You nod desperately, his words causing your pussy to clench around nothing. He sucks softly on your clit, tongue occasionally flicking out and drawing you closer and closer to your release. His eyes lock onto yours, trying to gauge your reaction.
Your hips attempt to rock back and forth against his face, his nose rubbing against you just right. Your pussy is neglected, slick pooling down south begging to be filled up with the fat cock you knew he was hiding beneath those pants. Just the thought of him pounding you and the stimulation of your clit has you accidently slipping out a whine.
His breath falters, the sound of your desperate moans has him aching and desperate to hear more. He continues his lapping and sucking, listening to the quickening of your breath and the little gasps you release in pleasure.
Soon your body is clenching, hips rolling into his face as you ride out your release. Biting down on your own fingers to try subdue your own noises.
You sit there for a moment, regaining your composure before quickly standing up almost losing your balance from your weak legs. The gun moves back up before you attempt to redress.
You take a step back, and he does too.
The bulge in his pants is hard to ignore, the outline of his cock pressing against the fabric straining to be released. but self preservation says that you should stop before you get too ahead of yourself.
You knock the safety back on before throwing the gun towards the edge of the warehouse and turning away.
-----
"Long night, Cashman?" You ask innocently, Side-eyeing the man beside you, who fiddles with his collar attempting to hide the purple bruising that leads down from his jaw and to god knows where.
The files he wanted yesterday are held between your fingers - holding them out to him.
His usual calm demeanor is seemingly ruffled this morning. His gaze flickers to you, curiosity filling his gaze - replacing his previous expression of discomfort. He leans towards you - reaching for the files. "Something like that."
I love the hc that Dex technically hits it perfectly every time even without trying 😭
it's one of my favorite hcs especially for like... super anxious fbi dex, and even college dex like. he's sitting there all in his head because he's about to fuck his supermodel of a girlfriend and when he starts he's worried that you're being so loud because you're faking it but he's actully been nudging your g-spot since he started and he's like "is this okay? should i go faster?" and you have to shake yourself out of the daze and warn him that you're going to cum, and it's like his eyes literally sparkle, he gets so fucking cocky after that. like every time you have sex he teases you about how fast he makes you cum "poor thing, again? i can slow down for you baby... make it last."
The chain from the handcuffs rattles against the headboard, jerking forwards with each movement of your bodies. His forearms strain above his head, fingers flexing - reaching for something to grab onto.
"You're such a good boy -" You lean downwards, a hand running through his wet hair, soaked with sweat. His cock twitches inside you when he hears your words. He leans into your touch, eyebrows furrowing as he nuzzles your palm. "Making me feel so good,"
The backs of your thighs ache, loins burning from riding him for god knows how long. Sweat pools against every inch of your bodies. His eyes are watery and glazed over, as if he might begin to cry at any moment.
"Fuck -" he gasps out, "just use me all you want, baby." His hips stutter beneath you, grinding up to meet you in the middle, his cock hitting that place deep inside you over and over again.
His pelvis rubs deliciously against your clit, your wetness has already coated the entire area of skin. Each thrust gets noisier and noiser, filling the room. His arms strain again, his biceps flexing whilst he tries not to move. Always trying to be a good boy for you.
"I wanna cum - fuck I'm gonna cum inside - fuck - wanna fill you up -"
His words head straight down to your core, your pussy tightens around his cock, getting impossibly wetter. "Say the magic words, Dex."
It was quiet in the apartment, at least as quiet as it can be for New York. The lull of traffic used to grate terribly when you first arrived in the city but now you've grown used to the constant hum of the streets.
You sit comfortably under the covers of your clean sheets, legs struggling to move due to the thoroughness of how tight the sheets were tucked in.
---
"Dex, your bedroom is not an Ikea showroom - i want to be able to sleep in the bed."
"You can - i just want it to be tidy. It looks nicer this way." He makes a move towards the sheets, untucking them and gesturing for you to look at the point he's making.
---
Your book lays neatly on your lap, the spine ridged from being pried open so many times from previous owners. The attempt to read are left forgotten as a noise interrupts your thoughts.
Gentle footfall outside the bedroom door becomes repetitive, the creak of the floorboards paint a picture of Dex pacing from one room to another, becoming more and more frantic. You could tell something was bothering him, but anytime you asked he just grew silent and withdrawn.
"Dex?" You call through bedroom door, hoping it was loud enough for him to hear.
The pacing pauses, silence filling the apartment. A moment passes before the footfall begins again - but this time heading closer.
The door creaks open, he stands there, hair mussed from hands running through it. His eyes are wild, searching for you.
He clears his throat, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck before he speaks. "You okay?"
"Yeah - I'm okay, are you okay?"
The question hangs in the air whilst he avoids your gaze, you can almost hear his brain ticking whilst he formulates an answer.
"Of course, m'just tired. That's all."
You lean forward, fingers reaching out to him. His hand meets yours - cautious. He's always so gentle with you, worry constantly presses at the back of his mind that he could damage you in some way.
He sits on the edge of the bed, moving closer but somehow feeling further away.
"If there's something bothering you - you can just tell me, you can tell me anything Dex, you know that right?"
His knuckles grasp tighter around you, his gaze flickering away from your own. His lip catching in his teeth, pushing his emotions deeper inside himself. He hides the way his eyes water, hoping you don't catch it.
He stays silent, trying to regain control of the rise and fall of his chest. "Just take a deep breath - it's okay," his breathing stutters against you, "it's okay. You're safe, honey, it's going to be fine,"
He pushes himself closer, his head finding it's way to the crook of your neck, hot wet tears fall against the skin. Your arms wrap round him, tracing soothing circles against his back.
"I just -" he speaks between heavy breaths, "just -"
"Just what, Dex?"
"I just love you - so much," he confesses, "i don't fucking deserve you,"
"Is that what's got you so worked up?" You question. "Don't worry about things like that,"
Your fingers run through his hair, pulling him into your chest, leaning further down against the headboard.
"M'sorry. I'm sorry,"
"Don't be, is that all you're worried about? Have your meds been working okay?"
The mention of his medication has become a sore spot between you both, frequent arguements caused by Dex's new habit of no longer leaving them in the shared cupboard.
"Don't talk about me like that,"
"I'm sorry - i just worry about you that's all."
Silence fills the room again - the traffic outside still bustling, the occasional sound of a horn pulling you back into your current state.
"You won't love me anymore,"
"Don't say that -"
"I know you won't - i know you'll leave me -" His grip tightens on you, worried you'll slip away from him.
"Dex -"
"- then i'll be alone again," he takes a breath, a hint of resentment building in his tone. "i don't wanna be alone, i can't take it."
"Stop it" you interrupt him, "You aren't going to be alone, i won't leave you, i promise."
"I can't tell you - you'll hate me and you'll think I'm a monster -" His anger bubbles, almost reaching the surface, "i'd rather die than have you think that about me,"
"Don't - don't say that,"
"It's true," he whispers, "i'd rather die,"
What have you done, Dex?
His breathing begins to slow, the sound of your heartbeat lulling him away from his own.
A/n if I told u guys I started this with the intention of it being fluff would u believe me.
"Don't make me cuff you," His voice is gruff above you, bodyweight pressing you down into the soft sheets beneath. Both your wrists restricted within the tight grip of his hand. "You gonna behave?"
"Yeah - course I am," you wriggle beneath him, nodding. You can't deny the thought makes your thighs rub together slightly, easing the pressure against your growing heat.
The action does not go unnoticed, his gaze darkening as he follows down the shape of your body, before returning to your eyes. His thighs move closer, pushing your legs together again. "Dex - mhm,"
"Yeah, Honey? You like the idea don't you?" His words roll off his tongue effortlessly, practised, measured. He smirks at your pathetic attempt to hide your expression. "Maybe next time."
He grinds against you, the seam of his jeans catching on your panties. Tugging it upwards against your clit. "I bet your pussy's so wet already, begging for me."
Your body responds, rolling your hips upwards into his. You desperately need him inside you, pounding deep within until you're sore and aching.
"Dex?"
"Yes?" His movements pause.
"When you gonna let me cuff you?" You grin at him, eyes meeting his, challenging him. Lust clouding your judgement. You'd be lying if this was the first time you'd thought about him in this way - letting you be in control. To have him whining beneath you.
For a second his features flickers into something darker, before returning to his usual casual smile. He rolls his shoulders, attempting to ignore the goosebumps that cover his skin.
"Easy, girl —" He pauses, "You're playing a dangerous game."
How do you think Maekar and Baelor would react to a scrappy daughter who gets into fist fights with her brothers and cousins?
★ akotsk men x scrappy daughter!reader
featuring — father!maekar & father!baelor + brother!aerion, brother!daeron, brother!aegon, and brother!valarr (and the other targ siblings <3)
note — thank you for your ask, i got such an immediately vivid idea for this and absolutely ran with it !! once again, i can't ever be normal about anything, so this is longer than i planned, but please enjoy !!
also, this is absolutely targcest free, and fully platonic. i'm not writing None of that.
★ maekar's daughter —
if you’re maekar’s daughter, it’s a little more expected — with four brothers and two sisters, I feel like no one would bat an eye if you were a fighter. and honestly, I feel like you’re kind of a godsend. maybe between aerion and aemon in age?? someone who can put aerion in his place, much to his chagrin, and playfully gets into it with both your older and younger siblings.
maekar, gods help him, tries to be stern with you about it. he’ll act all annoyed and grumpy as he has to pull you off of aerion for the hundredth time (because let’s face it, it’s him you’re always scrapping with) dragging you out of the room by the back of the neck, his jaw tight, muttering about decorum and dignity and how a princess ought to behave — but begrudgingly, he finds it endearing.
he's proud of the fact that you won't shy away from a fight... even if he’d sooner die than admit it. he’ll come to your room after a fight and just stand there for a moment, before almost offhandedly reminding you not to tuck your thumbs in when you throw a punch. it's the closest to approval you'll get.
when it comes to your relationship with baelor's side of the family........ remember that grimace baelor made at aerion? there's a lot of that.
you're just another one of the chaotic maekarlings to him, and unfortunately, you find it endlessly fun to challenge valarr, something new and different and exciting from your siblings. i feel like valarr would sort of love it too, having someone he can spar with that won't hold back, someone to actually challenge him rather than defer to him because he's in line for the throne.
matarys loves you too, even if you do go easy on him because he's smaller, you still get into it with him and don't treat him like glass like most of the court.
i see you with the youngest ones (daella, egg, and rhae, but also matarys) being gentle, but still a bit of a menace — tickling them, snatching them from behind, putting your hand on their forehead to stop them from being able to reach you, etc. aemon is, to your chagrin, too sweet and smart for you to really mess with, so instead, you just fight with anyone who bothers him.
daeron is just like...... you know those videos of huge sleepy dogs and tiny kittens like terrorising them? that's the vibe i fear. lots of you sneaking up on him and messing with him when you were younger, but as the two of you grow up and his dreams (and alcohol dependency) progress, you become fiercely protective of him.
★ baelor's daughter —
if you’re baelor’s daughter, its a little more of an issue. being the daughter of the heir to the throne means there are more eyes on you, so you’re scolded for it more often.
i sort of love the image of like. the perfect princely valarr being groomed for the throne, and his feral cat of a sister who like hides around corners and tackle him when he's caught off guard or something lmao.
i see you as his age or just a little younger — but also omg imagine being his twin but just like. his opposite. like baelor can't understand how you came out so completely different.
there's a pride there, though, at your fire. the dragon in you, the fighter, the daughter of the hammer. like he discourages it in public and scolds you for it, but similar to maekar, he's proud that you don't back down from a fight.
also, if you stick up for others? even as a child? placing yourself between your brothers and any perceived danger (no matter how small, like an irritated horse, another mean child, a loud sound)? oh yeah, that's his girl.
now, if you're baelor's daughter, your relationship with your cousins....... they make you more of a menace. honestly, he probably tries to keep you away from them, maybe tells you to stay at home when they visit summerhall etc.
aerion just spurs you on to no end — he's why you need to stick up for others, half the time, and the rest of the time he ragebaits you enough that you actually end up punching him. and his guards can't even do anything about it because you're baelor's girl.
daeron is amused by it and therefore you try to do more to impress him, as the oldest cousin you have deemed the coolest, and then the younger kids are in awe of you (did you see the way egg looked at valarr at the tourney? that, but it's even cooler because you're not supposed to fight).
sigh. okay. i'm getting carried away here, but you catch my drift, this is such a fun concept that i'm completely running away with.
tl;dr — in maekar's branch of the family, you become part of the chaos, but in baelor's, you're the disruption.
Synopsis: Lyonel seeks you out during the joust, wanting to gain your favour.
Warnings: swearing, miscommunication, allusions to misogyny
1 2
The sun is shining down on the lists, finally emerging from the greying clouds that have hung overhead for the majority of the morning. The last few droplets of dew cling to the grass underfoot, ankles wet as the crowd surges forward towards the fence.
Those competing are already straddling their horses, getting used to the loose mud beneath hooves. Lyonel Baratheon among them. His brow is furrowed, he speaks to his squire in short replies, frequently glancing upwards to look at the crowd.
"I hope they start soon - It's fucking boring just sitting here," Red speaks to the woman beside her, both within the cobblestone walls of the veiwing stand just behind Ser Manfred.
"Mhm - maybe we should have woken her up, do y'think she would've wanted to watch?"
"I tried," she sighs out, leaning further backwards into her seat, "but she just said she'd come down later - maybe last night's adventure tired her out,"
"True - you'd think a knight would be used to that sort of thing,"
"She's only a hedge knight, i bet she hasn't even fucking slept in like five years,"
They both 'hmm' in agreement, before looking out into the arena again.
"Why does he keep looking over at us,"
"I don't know," Red replies, her tone curious but wary. "But if he wants to say something - he should just trot on over here and say it rather than just staring,"
"I don't think you should encourage him," Beony breathes out, noticing the way his gaze meets theirs again, shifting in his saddle, "D'you think he heard us?"
Her question hangs in the air, quickly answered by the man murming something to his squire again before heading into a canter. Stopping just before the viewing platform. His helmet shifts uncomfortably underneath his arm, still unsure of when to put it on.
"May i speak to the women in your company, Ser Manfred?" He speaks loudly, drawing the attention of onlookers.
Ser Manfred leans backwards, confused, swapping a glance between both parties. The women feign shock and shrug at him, arms lifted up defensively. Red rises from her seat, leaning forwards down at the man, waiting for him to speak.
"Where is your friend?"
The question causes her to widen her eyes, she looks back at Beony who's holding the same expression, fighting back a laugh.
"I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific, Ser,"
"Don't play coy with me, the one you sent last night, to my pavillion, uninvited, on some kind of reconaissance mission,"
"Oh,"
"Where is she?"
"She only comes out for special occassion, if you wanted to speak with her, i'm afraid that boat has passed,"
He scoffs in disbelief, "don't be ridiculous, is this not a special occassion?" He gestures to the field around him.
"Did you want to ask for her favour?"
"Maybe, i did,"
Both girls look at each other, the same smirk plastered across their faces.
"It's funny that, i don't remember her mentioning him last night, do you?" She speaks to her friend, who shakes her head from side to side.
"It matters not - it is simply unfair that you sent that woman to bewitch me and now you hide her from me,"
"We did nothing of the sort, now i suggest you get on with the real entertainment, goodbye," she says assertively, before returning to her seat, done with the conversation.
The crowd has grown silent, taking in the scene that just happened before them. Lyonel sits for a moment, before trumpets cut through the air, signalling the beginning of the tourney.
-----
You awaken sharply, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, noticing the light streaming in from the tent doorway. You scramble up from the floor disorientated, still wearing the dress from the night before.
The same dress that had got you into so much trouble with a certain Baratheon. If you were lucky, he'd have forgotten about the whole encounter, too drunk to remember.
The grass is soft and warm beneath your feet, whilst you search the outside of the pavillion for your discarded boots. The silk is soft against your skin, blowing in the wind around your calves.
It was fun to pretend. Pretend that you were just a woman, with no responsibilities, free to be yourself.
"There you are," a man interrupts your thoughts, you look up meeting his gaze. Suddenly straightening up, the search for your boots left fruitfless.
"You didn't come to the lists," he stands there, sounding disappointed.
"No, Ser"
"I'd prepared you a gift,"
"Oh," his words embarass you, tilting your head to the side, avoiding his watch. You're definitely glad you didn't attend, the thought of a public proclaimation of love might have finished you off completely.
He clears his throat, "It matters not, I'll give it to you now,"
He steps closer to you, his gloved fingers reaching down to his belt where the hilt of his sword begins. Atop it hangs a delicately crafted flower crown, deep yellow marigolds adorn it. He lifts it gently, holding it out to you.
Your arms stay straight by your side, unsure on whether to accept it or not. Your fingers grip the sides of your dress, running your digits through the fabric to soothe yourself. The action does not go unnoticed by him.
His arm wavers, contemplating on pulling away and giving up on the chase. Your hands move forward, interlinking in front of you, before you bow foreward quickly, suddenly worried he might just walk away.
He steps forward again, hands reaching upwards, placing the crown softly against your hair. The proximity is daunting, dangerous and threatens everything you've ever believed in.
"It's curious," he begins.
"What is?"
"I spoke with Ser Manfred - He says you do not belong to him,"
You meet his gaze again, his eyes yet again search for answers along your features, but the attempt is futile. You stay silent.
"Where are you headed after the tourney?"
"I do not know,"
"Come with me to Storm's End."
"No," you refuse, "i have no interest in playing house with you,"
"I will knight you,"
His words reach a part of you deep inside your being, that you didn't realise existed. Your expression changes, eyes widening.
"That is what you desire, is it not?"
"How -"
"How did i know?" He questions, "how did i know? Rumours of the knight that never speaks travel fast. It's curious that he disappeared at the exact same time - you conveniently appeared,"
You stand there foolishly, "You don't know anything about me,"
"And i watched you, for hours yesterday, moving as if you carry the weight of the whole of Westeros on your shoulders," he laughs out loud, "then you gave yourself away, taking out that drunken cunt,"
He was right. You'd been sloppy, thinking you could be someone else just for the night was naive. You could never be both.
"Come with me to storm's End," he asks again, "i will give you purpose,"
His arm reaches out, fingers closing the gap in-between you both.
a/n: this one is kind of short, i struggled with the writing for the first part but then i contemplated rehashing the whole thing and posting it on ao3 as a whole oc fic.
tags: this one is for u @deadpool15 i hope u enjoy!!
Synopsis: A favour for an old friend leads somewhere that may cause you to regret attending the Ashford Meadows Tournament entirely.
Warnings: swearing, mentions of prostitution, violence, reader knows hand to hand just bc i thought it would be cool.
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Ashford Meadows is quiet, this late in the afternoon anyway. The loud hustle and bustle of people making their way to the lists earlier in the day, now replaced by people hidden within their tents preparing for the evenings festivities.
Your boots dig into the mud, the steel now coated in a fresh layer as you trudge further into the town. Your sword is heavy against your waist, only inches away from dragging against the ground. The reigns to your horse are wrapped round your gloved fingers tightly.
"Oi - excuse me," a voice calls out, causing your spine to straighten, a hand reaching for the hilt of your blade. You turn slowly, gaze travelling through the gap in your helmet. Two women sit there, dressed in silk and coiled hair tumbling down their shoulders. "yeah, you. C'mere," she points at you assertively, beckoning you over.
You stride closer, shoulders relaxed. shifting your weight between your legs attempting to fighting off the ache from hours of travel.
Her smile is bright and eyes crinkling in the corners, "Long time no see,"
"Likewise,"
"Don't be so cold, we aren't strangers now, are we?"
"I suppose not,"
"You're taller now, but i still knew it was you," she breathes out a laugh, "your sword doesn't drag against the floor anymore,"
A time when the steel against your waist felt heavier and more oppressive flickers through your mind.
"You still a hedge knight?"
"Yes,"
"Oh - well that's okay, there's plenty of great houses here," she nods encouragingly, the woman to her side joins in.
"I'll tell you what - you do us a favour and i'll put in a good word for you,"
"What kind of favour?"
"Some theiving bastard stole my necklace yesterday - must have taken it whilst my back was turned,"
"Do you know who it was?"
"No - didn't catch a name, but the man he was with mentioned he was going to the Baratheon tent tonight,"
"You want me to kill him for you?"
"Hmmm that is quite romantic, but probably a bit extreme." She laughs again, "just steal it back, i know you can."
"Alright, I'll bring it back for you,"
You take a step backwards, tugging the horse with you.
"You can leave the horse here if you'd like," she announces, leaning forwards to reach the reigns from your grip.
"I'm sure Magnolia won't get up to much trouble, will you girl? I'm not so sure of the same for your rider though." She whispers to the mare.
Her gaze turns to you again, eyes following up your form.
"Do you want to borrow something to wear?"
"Perhaps that would be best,"
---
The silks shift comfortably against your skin, unusual but not unwelcome. Your arms are bare, exposed to the night air apart from the delicate silk that decorates your shoulders.
"It's a good thing you wear that helmet all the time, otherwise I'd probably struggle to find work." She jests. "All the men in all of Westeros would line up just for you, and women even."
"Don't say such things," you scoff in disbelief. Your calloused hands grab her soft forearms which are tenderly tangled in your hair, detangling it. Braiding parts of it, and placing beads within.
"I'm serious -" she grins again, "if you ever change your mind about being a knight, there will always be a place for you here - with us,"
Your eyes meet for a moment.
"I must decline,"
"Of course -" she nods, "Never change."
Silence fills the tent.
"Anyway I'm done, I've done a pretty good job if i do say so myself."
You stand slowly, the silks cascading down your thighs. The shape of your waist is accentuated by the nature of the dress, sections of skin exposed, but also hidden by sheer lengths of fabric.
Your arms cross in front of you, confused on where to place them.
---
The night air is cool against your skin, startling compared to the warmth of the day. Your fingers grasp the layers of skirts, hoisting them slightly to prevent them from dragging through the mud whilst you head to the Baratheon tent.
You recognise the colouring of the banners and the antlers adorning the outside immediately, thanks to Red's brief description and a quick shove in right direction. You push through the entrance, the noise from within hitting you all at once.
You become drawn into the crowd, bodies pressed against you swaying in time to the music. The ground beneath your feet vibrating.
You look at the people around you, searching for the necklace. You swirl in between the crowds, moving through them like water.
You can feel something else now. You're being watched. You turn quickly to the source. towards the edge of the pavillion, meeting the gaze of the man sat there. Antlers sat proudly atop a head of curls. His eyes meet yours, a deep intense brown. His brow furrowed as he takes in your form. Curious.
don't talk to anyone unless you intend on bringing them back with you. You know how men are. That was what she said.
You turn back quickly, pushing back into the crowd. A flash of gold appears in your periphery. The chain hangs out the pocket of a drunken man in front of you. There it is.
You lean forwards quickly, snatching it out and making a move to escape. A hand grabs your wrist, yanking you backwards and onto the floor. "Who the fuck d'you think you are?" He spits out.
You scramble back upwards, holding onto the necklace tightly. The crowd disperses around you, no longer dancing. The music comes to an awkward end, instruments tailing off one by one.
"It's not yours," you hiss out, "you going to fuckin' hit me?"
He drunkenly moves towards you, but your fists are already up, protecting your chin whilst your stance widens. He lunges closer, but your right arm flies forwards, knuckles connecting with the side of his jaw. Knocking him to the ground.
Your arms return to the side of your body, palms sweating against your fingers.
A slow clap breaks the silence. Heavy boots make their way across the ground, towards the scene.
"That was very impressive," the man from before speaks, the one who was staring. His clapping stops, quickly leaning forward to pull the necklace from your grasp.
The man on the floor groans again, attempting to regain consciousness.
"Get him the fuck out of here," he signals to the men beside him, who stand frozen. "Stop gawking at the lady, remove this man from my tent - and musicians please continue, i don't recall saying the night was over,"
You stand silently, staring intensely at the man, who also refuses to be the first to look away.
"So - what's so special about this?" He lifts the necklace upwards, bringing it into the light.
Your mouth stays firmly shut, thinking of the right thing to say.
"Speak," he announces, "i assume you can? Or perhaps i've made you speechless?"
"That is not the case. I just want the necklace," you assure him, "It belongs to my friend."
"Is this the friend you were with earlier? I saw you both conspiring."
You look away, uncomfortably. He must have seen you whilst Red was fussing about with your dress. The other women joining in to give their opinion, might have caused some unwanted attention.
"Now tell me - are all of Ser Manfred Dondarrion's whores' so well versed in hand to hand combat?"
Oh so that's who he thought you were.
"No, Ser."
"Just you then?"
"Yes,"
"Now that is fascinating,"
His hand moves forward dangling the necklace between you both. Your arm reaches up to grab it, put he pulls back.
"Let's make a deal," he grins again, clearly enjoying your discomfort, "i will return your precious necklace, in exchange for - one dance,"
His hand reaches out, ready to be shaken. Your hand flexes at your side hesitating. before you take it, apprehensively.
A warm hand grabs your wrist, pulling you closer to him. His hands rest against your waist, hot against the thin fabric between him and your skin. Your arms rise from your sides, unsure of where to place them, before being satisfied with laying them carefully on his broad shoulders.
"I haven't seen you around here before,"
"Maybe you just didn't notice before, Ser."
"I would have, such beauty is hard to come by in the entire of Westeros let alone Ashford Meadows," he grins, "do you take me for a fool?"
"I don't take you for anything," you speak, discouraging his advances, "i do not know you,"
"Well I'd like that to be different," his gaze is curious, flickering across your features, "I'd very much like the pleasure of knowing you, if you'd let me."
"It's a tempting offer, but one i must refuse,"
"Why do you deny yourself? I could offer you so much more, than that stupid cunt Ser Manfred ever could,"
"You're drunk, Ser."
"No - no i feel much sober right in this very moment than i have in many years," his grip on your waist tightens slightly, afraid you might slip away from him entirely.
The song finally comes to an end, and you stand there silently. His gaze searches your face for an answer he cannot find.
"I think it's time I make my departure, I have stayed longer than i intended to,"
You turn away from him, skin growing cold from where his hands were resting.
"Wait,"
You turn back just for a moment.
"Will i see you at the joust tomorrow?"
You stay silent, your answer dangerous. You turn away again and head into the night.
----
"How'd it go?" Red whispers to you, through the night.
"It was fine."
"You stayed longer than I expected," she grins at you, "Beony and I had a bet on whether you were going to kill someone or sleep with them,"
Beony pipes up, "so did you do either? Or both maybe?"
"No,"
"Oh," they both say.
The silence is loud.
"I knocked one out though," you lean onto your back.
"Did anyone catch your eye?"
The eccentric man with the curls pressed under his antler crown, flickers through your mind. The way he held you gently against him, his warm eyes meeting yours at a final attempt at convincing you to stay.
"No,"
a/n: i've never actually even watched Game Of Thones (u can probably tell) so all my knowledge is based off of akotsk. i only watched it because i read about it in a magazine guys i'm such a newgen. if theres anything wrong, please do let me know. I'm also gonna do a pt2 for this i think.
