#fic: dragonhearted

[lordoftherazzles]

Beautiful commission for my Beauty and the Beast inspired fic, Dragonhearted [E], done by the always amazing, @smolestboop!!! Thank you for capturing just how sweet and dopey these fellas are!!

Thorin lives a life of solitude since Smaug’s curse fell upon Erebor. That is, until a brave hobbit turns the mountain upside down with little fear of Thorin’s snarls, scales and enchanted company, and learns to love a beast. (Explicit, Complete, 83k)

#bagginshield #the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #fic: dragonhearted #artwork: dragonhearted #I MISS THIS FIC SO MUCH YOU GUYS! #BOOP DID SUCH A STUNNING JOB!!

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Cup of love

This Mini-Story is dedicated to @lordoftherazzles's lovely fic Dragonhearted!

Words: 1.6k

Characters: Interviewer, W, Teacup-Ori

Prompt: Soulmates

The woman who wants to remain anonymous and to whom I’ll refer forthwith as “W” sits down in the comfortable armchair provided for that express purpose and looks at me from steady, dark eyes that seem to hold an expression of slight challenge.

After the initial, customary exchange of insipid greetings and void niceties, I encourage her to describe – in her own words – how she’s found herself in such a peculiar situation as to be convinced that her soulmate is in fact a teacup.

Here is what she’s confided to this eminent paper:

I was walking in the woods that lead nowhere in particular, which, in and of itself, is strange because you’d think that a forest like that would surround some stately manor or at least separate two villages. ‘Tis not so in this case; whoever enters this densely overgrown patch of land will invariably find themselves turned around and disoriented.

One has to admit that this peculiar effect has been a source of amusement and merriment amongst the people of my village for many years and so, it has become a habit I cherish greatly.

So, there I was, courageously defying the magic of the dark trees by padding noiselessly through their shadows, not expecting anything untoward or unusual to occur.

Suddenly, something thoroughly unanticipated made me freeze where I stood though. In front of me, not five steps away, lay an abandoned teacup in the snow.

To my surprise, it seemed hale enough! Believing that no wild beast would have any real use for such fine porcelain, I picked it up gingerly.

“Hello,” the cup spoke and I almost dropped it then and there, which – I can only surmise – might have been severely detrimental to its health, as far as one may use such terms for what still seemed to me to be but a piece of expertly fashioned ceramic tableware. “I am Ori.”

Stunned, I stammered out my own name with much less poise and gentility as was warranted by a formal introduction, but the spirit inhabiting the teacup is as gracious as it is kind and so no hard feelings remain from that unsuccessful first meeting.

“Your hands are warm,” he – for it was a male teacup – praised and nuzzled his handle firmly into my palm.

Of course, I asked him all the questions that rose to the forefront of my mind haphazardly. Who was he? What was he? Why could he speak? Where did he come from? Was he magical?

Unfortunately, Ori – the little cup man – was rather cagey about the specifics of his circumstances and merely provided evasive replies such as “My name is Ori, I am evidently a teacup, I was taught to speak by my family as were you, I suspect.”

Alas, he would not divulge how he had come to meet me on my stroll or where he’d return to once our meeting had drawn to an end; moreover, he was rather tight-lipped about the undeniable flavour of a seemingly rather whimsical supernatural power of which the whole thing smacked.

“That sounds fantastical,” I cry out, my eyes bulging out of my head as I stare at the mousy, little woman still sitting in front of me.

“Ha! That is exactly what I said,” W grins and takes a sip of the tea I have supplied; she makes a face on account of the bitterness of the lukewarm beverage, but – loony as she might be – she’s too polite to put her distaste into cutting words.

“And what did he say?” I prompt her, remembering that it is bad form to interrupt the eyewitness account. It has taken too much time to put her at ease to snap her out of her talkative mood by side-tracking her with inane interjections.

She leans back in her chair with an almost handsome smile that illuminates her rather stern mien.

“If you’d let me go on, you’d hear all about it,” she chides with the benevolent severity of a schoolteacher and then continues her account.

“I feel like I’ve fallen into a fairy tale,” I said to him, holding him up to my face and seeing my breath fog up his countenance.

“A retelling of one, more like it,” he quipped, visibly comfortable with being held and handled. “If it pleases you, we could meet again soon? It is time for me to hop back to the secret place I have escaped from for a breath of fresh air, but I’d much enjoy some outside company.”

Now, it is known that my people have always believed in the concept of soulmates. My grandmother – wise and toothless as she has been as long as I can recall – has ever told me that, when you meet the soul that will complete yours, you’ll just know.

There was no flash of lightning and no roll of thunder, but my heart clenched in terrible recognition of the one I was meant to find.

All of this, naturally, might sound rather fanciful to a serious investigator of the hard truths of life, but I am a simple woman who does not presume to doubt beliefs that have been upheld and nurtured by my people for countless centuries.

So, what then was I – lonely, poor, and wretched – to do other than to agree wholeheartedly to seeing Ori, a sentient piece of crockery, at his earliest convenience for another round of fruitless discussions?

“Yes,” I breathed and set him down as carefully as if he was made of glass. Come to think of it, that was not all that far from the truth, and I did well in handling him with the utmost care and respect.

I watched him go, listless, and my whole soul was quivering as a bowstring stretched too far by the reckless hand of an inexperienced archer.

Every day, I’d thus return to the forest in hopes of meeting the enchanted object – quite literally – of all my hopes and dreams once more.

A week after our initial meeting, I had almost convinced myself that there had been no such incident and that it had been but an absurdly detailed fever dream that haunted me now with the aftertaste of the devastating loss of something I had never even possessed to begin with.

Nonetheless, I returned to the woods one last time to mourn the demise of my sanity.

Just as I was about to turn homewards once more, a soft clinking sound resounded, and I spun around to find Ori sliding down the narrow forest path cautiously.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “there was a lot going on…in the secret place. I’ve brought you a drink though!”

I stared down at the pitiful remnant of brownish sludge that had survived his trek through the overgrown bushes and the dense, gnarled roots of the tree sentinels guarding his enigmatic home.

“Am I to lift you to my lips?” I asked, afraid of committing an unforgivable faux pas by simply grabbing a sentient being as if it was indeed but an inanimate kitchen utensil.

“If you want to,” Ori replied breathlessly, a pinkish hue tinging his impeccable glaze all of a sudden. “I fear that the quality of the tea must have suffered a little, but it should still be somewhat wholesome to drink.”

He was kind, you have to understand, and so terribly sweet in his courteous, shy demeanour. To be truthful, I cared very little about the rather subpar tea, containing the odd stray leaf, he offered me; it was of no consequence to me compared to the immense pleasure of holding him in my cupped hands again and lifting his slender, delicate, terrifyingly fragile beauty to my trembling lips and tilting him ever so warily to refresh myself.

Afterwards, I gave him a little bath in the nearby stream – the water was shockingly cold – and we sat and talked for a little while. He would still not tell me about where he had come from and what bound him to that place, but my absurd instinct that he was the One for me solidified, nonetheless.

As insane as that sounds, he seemed to understand me perfectly – humming at the right moments and uttering tinkling peals of laughter at others – and I felt comfortable and cherished in his presence. What does that say about me that it took a cursed item for me to get the sensation that I was being perceived favourably by another soul?

W looks up at me defiantly at this point of her narrative, blinking back tears she visibly refuses to spill in front of such an insensitive audience. “We met up several times after that, stolen moments in the woods far away from our usual cares and worries; it was precious, and I wonder what has kept him lately.”

I admit that I am taken aback by her vulnerability and her frankness, so I look for the right words to say to her; of course, I also wonder whether I should inform her of the ongoing climate of unrest and the riots that would probably break out before long.

“That’s all,” she concludes aggressively and wrings her small, pale hands in her lap. “I met a magical creature, and I might even have had a chance at love in the long run, but now, we might never know.” Just as I am about to give her some reassuring but empty words of polite solace, a great ruckus resounds outside, and she dives towards the window in a flash of flying hair and trembling limbs.

Flames in the night and an angry mob moving towards her beloved, enchanted forest; I stand transfixed and witness the choked cry of horror that seems to deflate the once proud woman who has just finished telling her story.

“Let’s go,” I say in a mournful voice, taking her by the hand. “Let’s see what all of this is about.”

So, my dear friend, I hope this made you smile!

@fellowshipofthefics I am still at it.

Lots of love

#og post #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt #fotfics february bingo #february challenge #prompt: soulmates #hobbit #the hobbit #fic: Dragonhearted #DH my beloved #teacup Ori #Ori #Ori the dwarf #Ori propaganda #interview style #trying new things #read DH

[jckblckford]

@lordoftherazzles Still going! Still thoroughly enthralled by your writing. Thank you so much!

#Fic: Dragonhearted #Fucking God send this Fic is #Thorin Oakenshield #Bilbo Baggins #Sketchbook

[lucradiss]

"Between Thorin and the three wargs that were slowly stalking his way, who was angrier?

Those bright blue eyes seemed to glow like flames of their own as he dug his claws into the ground and then pushed himself to his feet. That glow between the scales of his throat becoming visible again as he let those wings of his, injured as they might have been from the scuffle, spread and make him as large and imposing as possible, another loud and menacing growl erupted and echoed from Thorin take made the ears of those wargs tip back with a whine. Bilbo’s own had dropped at the sound, as piercing as it was."

-@lordoftherazzles, Dragonhearted

AO3 IS BACK! I've been waiting to post this so that I could include the excerpt because this is one of my FAVORITE parts of Dragonhearted! Combat is so hard to write and Razzles does it beautifully. Beauty and the Beast AUs are so tricky to get right and honestly this is the best one I've read to date out of any fandom I've been in. So PLEASE make sure to give it and any other of Razzles' fics a read it will be so worth it I promise

#the hobbit #thilbo #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins fanart #bilbo fanart #lord of the rings #bagginshield #lordoftherazzles #Dragonhearted #fic fanart #thorin oakenshield fanart #thorin fanart #please read this fic #it's actually masterful

[catcas22]

Prince of Death ch121

Prince of Death - Chapter 121 - catcas22 - Elden Ring (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]

Sorry for the delay. I have no excuse.

Including @thatboreddrake's ocs Aelfric the Dragonhearted and Master Fafnir.

#elden ring #fanfic #prince of death fic #melina #vargram the raging wolf #gloam eyed queen #ocs #dragonhearted

[happywitch416]

Food For the Dead

Old Life Festival is upon the province and with it remembering the dead. But when you have a child who is obsessed with that which is spooky, you can find yourself remembering more then just your ancestors. Elena is terrified of the dead but that means little in the face of parenting, especially when the children begin teaming up to do right by even the warriors of the dragon cult.

I am loosely basing Old Life on All Soul's Day which is a bit of artistic license but this is spawned by a very real conversation with my own spooky obsessed child and them wanting to light candles for all the dead because no one should be forgotten. They are a better person then I.

"Mama." Runa flopped on to the bar stool across the sink, waiting patiently for Elena to look up which caused Elena concern. "What are draugr?" 

"Oh. Uh." They tapped the spoon on the side of the skillet, wiggling their bare toes against the cold floor when it didn’t help them think. "Old Nords, ancient ones, but they were warriors of the dragon cults that are bound to serve their masters for eternity." 

"So, they speak Thu'um." 

Elena regarded her carefully; Runa’s brows were furrowed as she stared into a notebook after making a scribbled note. "Aye, some would." 

"So, if one came here you could talk to them?" 

"Little one, why are you worried draugr are going to come to the house?" 

"Lucia said there are draugr in the Halls of the Dead." 

"There are." 

"So, there is a dragon priest beneath the city?" 

Elena set down the spoon harder than they meant. "I would like to think there isn’t but there are many important people buried here. And the oldest catacombs they’ve found are supposedly older than the city. " 

"Potema isn’t even in those then." 

"Aye." Runa nodded hopped down from her chair and disappeared before Elena could say another word. Elena went back to cooking dinner, their brows furrowed, and jaw clenched as they hoped they wouldn’t be kept up all night worrying about draugr knocking on the door. 

It was Lucia who appeared for dinner first much to Elena’s relief, flipping through one of her latest magazines. "Lucia, why is Runa worrying about draugr?" 

Lucia’s pale brows furrowed a moment, chewing on her fingernail before brightening. "We are starting the Old Life Festival stuff at school." 

"Oh." Elena let out a sigh of relief. 

"I let her borrow my books though, they gave her baby stuff." Elena matched her scowl. "Why do some of the teachers treat her like that?"

"Because they think she isn’t capable." They snarled, pouring themselves a glass of water.

"Have they met her?" Lucia stomped her foot indignantly, the magazine in her hands crumbling in her fists. "She’s smarter than all of them, who cares if she doesn’t sit?!" 

"Well." Elena let out a tired chuckle then. "You aren’t wrong but it’s a bit more then not sitting still." 

"She only hits people that deserve it." She sniffed, setting aside the magazine to help Elena get dinner on the table. "I wish I could hit people like she does." 

Elena let out a tired sigh. "Save it until after they won’t call me to fix it okay?" Lucia laughed, ducking away when Elena ruffled her hair. "What’s the new one about? Anything interesting?" 

"Atmoran fashion is coming back into style." She grinned at her mother. "Aunt Oddie said I should dig through your closet to find some originals." 

"Ha ha, Aunt Oddie isn’t funny." She snorted. "And I’ve never been fashionable a day in my life." 

"Some of it would suit you." Lucia declared snagging the magazine to show Elena a picture. The woman was regal with the dark furs draped across her shoulders and shining metal at the clasps. "You already have the braids." 

"True." Elena gently dragged their finger down the figure, eyeing it critically. "I would not be caught dead in that floaty, not skirt thing." 

"Mama." Luci groaned. "It’s a tabard." She tapped her bright pink nail against it. "It’s not a skirt, it’s part of the shirt." 

"I’d still trip over it." Elena sang over their shoulder as they grabbed the macaroni from the stove. 

"It’d have to be shorter, or the hatchlings would get tangled in it." She narrowed her eyes watching her mother carefully. "Your favorite color is forest green, right?" 

"Aye?" Any further questioning was halted by the appearance of Sofie and Runa who were discussing the best offerings to leave for the draugr. "Why are we feeding the undead?" Elena’s heart gave a panicked flutter.

The four of them settled at the table, Runa and Sofie exchanging smiles before Sofie spoke. "Because they shouldn’t be forgotten while we remember the dead." 

Elena couldn’t decide if they were going to die from cuteness or terror because they knew children couldn’t go into the Halls of the Dead without a parent.

Elena Songschild Master List

The Witch Writes Master List

#halloween fic #skyrim fic #otp: dragonheart #elena songschild #the witch writes #ao3 link in the replies <3

[fruityfourgalore]

#omg #it’s been updated #this AND skull rock era AND bucket list all being updated?! #I’m so happy #tomorrow night shall be fun #(I already knew of skull rock and bucket list being updated #just haven’t read them YET cos I’m so excited ) #Katy rambles #steddie fics #Steve Harrington The Dragonheart #Skull Rock Era #The Bucket List Club

[huramuna]

firehaired, lavendereyed -- oneshot.

mean prince regent aemond x pregnant wife reader

a sequel to foxfaced, dragonhearted. it can be read as a standalone, though! its not as dark or mean as the first one and is (kinda) fluffy. thank you @echos-muses for inspiring this!

word count: 2.5k

@huramuna-fics -- follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings!

content: smut (specifics below cut), angst, fluffy, meanish aemond, prob unhealthy relationship, emotionally constipated aemond experiences emotions, reader is described w/ auburn hair, no use of y/n, not beta read, i literally went into a haze writing this there are probably mistakes, pregnancy

cloudbusting - kate bush • i bet on losing dogs - mitski

warnings: oral (f receiving), p in v, talks of choking and biting but its not in this fic, BREEDING KINK

Being the wife of a prince, a prince-regent no less, always felt like an honor. People would bow at you in the corridors, maids would bring you your favorite sweets without asking, courtiers would invite you to countless luncheons and extravagant events. It made you wonder, though– was it out of respect for your station– or out of fear for your husband? 

He was constantly your shadow now, insisting on being with you at every waking moment ever since the maesters confirmed your pregnancy. His hand would constantly be guiding you on the middle of your back, towards whatever destination you were off to. He would insist you eat more for the babe, would rub your feet and prop pillows behind your back when you both retired for the day. 

As he shepherded you into the throne room, he glanced at the courtesans and sworn lords alike– he had worn the crown since his brother fell from the sky in flames, burnt and scarred. He melded into the role like he was meant for it, as you so told him. 

‘It looks better on you than it ever did on him, husband.’

‘Careful now, dear wife. That sounds treasonous, does it not?’

It wasn’t hard to spur him on into a feral state of being lately, as he adored your body filling out, belly stretching, breasts growing as you carried his child. His, his. He was still cold, in his way, of course– that would be something you would never pull him out of.

‘Husband?’ you had mewled softly as you came back from the maester’s chambers after receiving the news. 

Aemond was sitting on the loveseat in front of the fire, one hand parting the pages of a book. He looked deep in thought, bristling slightly at being interrupted. ‘What?’

‘I’ve just come from the maester’s chambers,’ you started, walking slowly towards him like a skittish animal.

‘Why? Are you hurt?’ he closed his book with a loud snap and set it aside. ‘Come.’ he prostrated himself on the couch, legs spread slightly as an indication. 

You lifted your skirts and sat upon his lap, as you do– as he commands, usually. It was easy to know what he wanted without words. He inspected your face carefully, turning you from side to side, skin taut between thumb and forefinger. Then, the back of his hand felt your forehead. ‘You aren’t running a temperature. You aren’t sick, are you, little wife?’ 

‘N-No… I had thought so with… the issues of late.’

‘Issues? What issues?’ he pressed, his lone eye boring into you with intensity. 

‘I… ehm… have had an upset stomach– and… my…’ you blushed as you spoke. ‘My breasts have been tender.’

‘... hm.’

‘The maesters– they… inspected, thoroughly. They say I am with child… two moons.’ 

‘Pregnant. You’re… pregnant?’

‘Y-yes.’

Aemond stared at you for a long moment, not blinking. You had feared his reaction, you weren’t sure why, though. You knew your husband… liked you, didn’t he? In his own, special way. The way that he loved to call you stupid and bite you and choke you and never tell you that he loves you, except when lost in the throes of pleasure. 

‘Husband?’ you squeaked out, anxiety swirling in the pit of your stomach at his lack of reaction. Aemond was good at concealing his emotions– but you could see the pupil of his violet eye dilating like a creature in the dark.

‘Good,’ he said simply, a hand on your waist, squeezing slightly. Then, a moment of recollection came over his face and he stopped squeezing, letting his hand laze on the curve of your body. 

‘... good?’ 

‘Yes. Good. Do you wish praise for doing your duty?’ he grunted, already beginning to unlace your bodice. He wriggled it down your chemise and pawed one of your breasts. ‘Hm.’

‘W-what?’ 

‘They do seem… larger.’

He was gentle to you that night and every night after that. In touch and act alone– his words still left much to be desired.

As you both perused the throne room, approaching the iron throne, Aemond’s jaw clenched in irritation. You were well along in your pregnancy now, eight moons, and were quite round and stout, feeling all the part of a plump trout carrying eggs, trying to swim upstream– 

“Where is the chair?” Aemond barked suddenly, causing you to jump.

“T-the chair, your grace?” one of the servants mumbled.

“The chair for my lady wife, you fool. Do you expect her to stand?” He thoroughly scared the daylights out of the poor servant, who rushed off to find a chair. “Incompetent.” 

“... I pray he returns soon– my ankles are protesting this walk.” you murmured.

“If all of these prying eyes weren’t here,” Aemond whispered in your ear. “Mayhaps I’d have you sit with me on the throne.”

The thought of it sent a thrill through you, tingling all the way to the base of your spine and beyond. It was a wonderful fantasy, but you couldn’t get the logistics of it out of your head– you would certainly impale yourself on one of the unruly swords. “Mayhaps we can arrange something in our chambers after this, husband?” 

Aemond uttered a sound between a growl and a quiet moan before guiding you further to your seat, now properly prepared. You leaned back on the chair, adorned with a pillow, putting a hand over your swollen belly. 

As much as you appreciated Aemond’s… concern and vigilance with having you everywhere with him, you wished you could skip the tedious things. Your mind wondered the entirety of the session, tuning out the droning voices of the lords and only focusing on your husband’s. He sounded so powerful, commanding his lessers as if they were the sheep and he the shepherd. You didn’t lie when you thought the crown looked better on him than Aegon– Aemond was more suited towards this life. 

You know he wanted it all– the title, the crown, but not at the expense of his brother, never at his expense– so he would have to be content with what he could make for himself. That included you and your unborn child. You wished so dearly that it would be a son, a son for him to continue his bloodline, his legacy. 

Finally, the meeting ended and Aemond all but swept you off your aching feet to your rooms. He set you down on the bed and undressed you without much ceremony. “I couldn’t keep my mind off of you that entire time– if I were a lesser man… I may have not waited until our chambers to succumb to you.” he whispered, dragging kisses up from your knees, to your thighs and then your belly. 

A gentle, but calloused, hand wrought over the stretched skin. He loved touching your belly, he couldn’t get enough of it– he was a scholarly man in all accounts, secretly in wonder of the machinations of the human body and how it could vessel something like another person. He would never admit this, of course, but you could tell just by how his eye roved your form, how he took in every detail. He parted your legs, swiping a finger between your already soaked folds– as it didn’t take much for you to become feral these days, either. You had been since he suggested the idea of the throne, forced to squeeze your thighs together through the duration of the hearing to relieve some of the ache.

“So wet for me already, are you?” he hummed, gathering your slick with two fingers this time and kissing your thigh, so close, so close to your aching center.

“... y-yes, husband– you kept me waiting,” you murmured. In your pregnancy, you’d become indignant and spoiled– and he let you. “So cruel.”

“Cruel?” Aemond questioned, a brow raised. “Cruel– you know me cruel, my dear wife,” he growled, parting your folds and licking a line from bottom to top. “Cruel would be… letting you sit for hours longer on the edge and not giving it to you,” he anointed his point by roving his tongue over your pearl, eliciting a keening whine from you. “Or mayhaps, not giving it to you at all. Shall I be cruel, wife?”

You shook your head fervently. “P-please, Aemond,” you panted, the heat of the moment and your out-of-whack hormones already making you perspire, sweat beading at your forehead. You felt like a bitch in heat, every touch of him on you was like a thousand sparks from a flint, trying to light your pleasure, trying, trying– but then dying, but it was always so close, on the precipice. “Touch me– don’t tease me.”

“Hm,” he roved it over in his mind for a faux moment. “You are doing so well carrying my child, aren’t you?” 

“Y-yes, please!” 

“Mayhaps I will reward you for being a good wife, a good mother.”

“Please, my king,” you whimpered, using his title only reserved for bedplay. You wanted it bad, and he knew.

Once again, his pupil waxed and waned like the moon phases, like the ebbing and flowing tide– and then he began to feast upon you like the animal he truly was. His tongue roved over your sensitive core, suckling and nipping. Your hand flew to his hair, clenching it into your fist. He had become so expert in pleasing you with his mouth, something he only started after you became pregnant– you hoped this would stay. 

“A-Aemond, f-fuck,” you cursed, throwing your head back on the pillow, clutching his silky strands between your fingers. “M-more, your grace–” 

He lavished you like he was starved, not letting up at any point to even let you breathe– it was a constant assault on your clit, with only a few moments of relief when he caught his breath, looking up at you like the cat who got the cream, a smug grin on his face, the glisten of your essence on him. His thumb finished what his tongue started, kneading over your sensitive bud as you babbled and cried, fluttering around nothing as you came. 

You heard the sound of his belt undoing, and his hand was in yours, guiding you to his rock hard member. “Don’t you see what you do to me, hm? I quite like you round, so full of my child,” he said as he lined up with your entrance, sliding in with no resistance. “Mayhaps I shall keep you like this and we will have an entire castle full of children.” he stayed upright, hands on your thighs. You still ached for his hand around your throat, so badly– but it wasn’t good for the babe. 

He began a slow, almost lazy pace, staring down at you now as he loomed like a shadow, picking up his speed. As he sped up, he reached up and tore off his eyepatch, throwing it aside. The sapphire in his eye socket gleamed at you and you swore you could see yourself reflected into it– 

It didn’t take long for him to reach his own peak, grunting and growling, balls tightening. His hand also itched so desperately to lace around your throat like a necklace, but his hand just twitched and clawed into the sheets as he emptied himself into you. He, regrettably to both of you, pulled out and encircled himself around you, arms resting on your ribs as you were lulled to sleep by his breathing and closeness.

You awoke, not knowing how many hours later, to him speaking. “Nyke jaelagon ao emagon aōha muñnykeā's pungos.” I hope you have your mother’s nose. “Ao'll rhaenagon gūrēñare lēda iā egros rȳ izula. Iā kostilus tōma. Aōha muña kessa daor hae ziry, nyke gīmigon.” You'll start training with a sword at age four. Or perhaps five. Your mother will not like it, I know.

His head was laid near your belly, faced away from you, his hand draped over it softly. He didn’t know you were awake– he was… speaking to the baby. You could only catch bits and pieces of what he was saying– but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t a conversation for you to know. You closed your eyes once more.

–

“M-may the mother… guide me… and bless me with a son,” you murmured. “Bless us with a son, please.” you groaned as you tried to get up, your knees bruised and sore. You had been praying every day for the last fortnight as your delivery loomed closer. You feared to give him a daughter– as accompanying as he’d been during your pregnancy, you knew… you knew what he wanted. And you knew it was a coin flip to give him what he wanted.

You felt heavier than usual, finding it difficult to get back up after being down for so long– you felt a strain in your lower back, then an acute pop. A gush of wetness flowed down your legs. “A-ah– ser!” you called to your sworn sword, a member of the Kingsguard picked by Aemond specifically to be with you at all times when he wasn’t around. Presently, Aemond was taking a ride upon Vhagar. “Ser!”

“My lady?” the Kingsguard rushed in, eyes wide. “Are you alright?”

“T-the… the babe–” 

–

“Why wasn’t I notified?” Aemond growled, stalking through the corridors as he paced to the maester’s quarters. 

“Y-You were in the sky, your grace– we didn’t know how to reach you–” 

“Fuck’s sake– is she alright, then?” 

“Yes– uhm…” 

“Uhm? What? Is my wife alright or not?!” 

“Yes– she and the babe are alright.”

 Aemond fumed as he opened the doors, eye zeroing in on the maester, then you. You were mortified, crying, holding a little bundle against your breast. 

“A-Aemond,” you croaked. You were shaking like a leaf.

“Congratulations, your grace,” the maester spoke. “It is a healthy baby girl.” 

Girl.

Girl.

Girl.

You couldn’t stop sobbing as you watched his face, impassive, turn to confusion, to longing, to grief, to anger, to…. Nothing. He stared at you blankly then.

“Aemond– please– I- I prayed to the Gods every day for a son, I’m sorry,” you blubbered. “I’m so sorry–” 

“Don’t.” Aemond’s voice snapped like a whip as he walked closer. “Let me see the babe.” 

You offered the bundle to him– a baby girl. She had curls of red hair like you and lavender eyes like her father. Sensing movement and a change of presence, the baby sneezed, staring up at her father. He stared back, his expression unreadable. “Vaella. Her name is Vaella.” he didn’t ask, nor suggest. He declared. Glancing back at you, he spoke quietly. “We will just have to try again, won’t we, wife?” His tone was like a fog upon you– it was proposed like a thinly veiled threat, a promise– but then his gaze softened almost imperceptibly. You wonder if you imagined it. “Kirimvose, ñuha dōna ābrazȳrys.” Thank you, sweet wife. “Ñuha hūra,” My moon. He turned back to Vaella, whispering. “Se ñuha qēlossās.” And my stars.

–

Aemond ended up getting his heir and then some, a year and a half later. You gave birth to triplets. All boys. 

Maegon, Vaelar, and Rhaelor.

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fic #aemond fanfic #aemond smut #my writing

[kaykaytwilie]

Been working a while on these! Really happy at how they turned out!

Thank you to @lordoftherazzles for an amazing and inspiring Bagginshield Beauty&theBeast!AU !!!

Fic:

#fanart #the hobbit #bagginshield #the company #ao3 #dori #nori #ori #bofur #bifur #bombur #dwalin #balin #gloin #oin #fili #kili #go read the fic #cute #beauty and the beast #au #beauty and the beast au #my artwork #please dont steal

[lordoftherazzles]

This right here☝️☝️☝️ this is why I share my fics.

I write them for me, yes, but these are the comments that make those stories worth sharing. On the days when I feel no one cares about the things I pour my heart and soul into, gems like these are what I look to for a mood boost, as well as new inspiration to keep sharing.

I can’t tell you how overwhelmed I was last night reading this comment on a fic I finished a year ago (Dragonhearted). If the person who left this comment (I struck out the name for the sake of anonymity), is here on tumblr, just know you truly brightened my mood - THANK YOU!!! 💖

Thank you to everyone who supports real creators. Whether you comment (regardless of comment length), reblog, tag, bookmark, whatever that support looks like, it means a lot, and I can’t wait to keep writing!

#razzy’s rambles #thank you so much #this truly made my little heart explode #bagginshield #since it’s about a bagginshield fic huehuehue #ty to everyone who supports REAL creators!!! #fic: dragonhearted

[bagginshieldlibrary]

Omg a Library! Can I check out some fairytale AU? (No Fem!Bilbo please)

Oooo that's a good ask!

My recommendations are:

Mugr by the_Hexerer. Written in 2021. It's based of "Bearskin" by the Brothers Grimm. Its a soft feely one and a great bedtime read.

1001 wishes by aquileaofthelonelymountain. Written in 2016. This is not your traditional fairytale au, being that it is based on just genies and not an actual story that I can personally find. Great read. Gets some light angst but some good feels. Has an Explicit second part.

Also to be noted, This fic is locked on A03. so you have to have an account to read it.

Dragonhearted by @lordoftherazzles

Beauty and the Beast Au. The only one I have read that is m/m. A great long read. Has one explicit chapter. A classic with a twist, if i do say so myself.

A most unlikely dance Partner by @fantasyinallforms.

This fic gives all the Cinderella vibes you could ask for, and hits all the right spots. Masquerade, magic, dancing, Soul mates, confusing fairy godfathers (I'm looking at you Gandalf). Another great bedtime read.

I absolutely adore these fics. I hope you do too! Thank you so much for the ask! If you have anymore requests, I will do my best to find what you're looking for!

HAVE A GREAT READ!

#the hobbit #bagginshield #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #hobbit #fanfic #the company of thorin oakenshield #i love it

[siflshonen]

Hi, I love your analyses and your fics! 💕Especially that Eureka Seven AU man ngl it lives in my head and starts playing in my local theaters every other night at 2 AM, but *clears throat* I'm getting off topic lol :D do you have a bakudeku fic/authors rec list?

I'm honored you read the Eureka Seven one!

Good Bakudeku authors... the truth is, there are SO MANY. Just in general, and so many that are really, truly excellent. I have begun consuming more and more fic lately as I feel the itch of the subtext of what's happening in the manga rapidly becoming text and just plain consuming me, but many of the individual stories I've read can be GREAT as a story but perhaps not so great as a canon-faithful representation of Bakudeku - so I'm not entirely sure what kind of Bakudeku you're asking for ("fun and good story" versus "horny vignette" versus "that's totally Katsuki and Izuku.")

Also, like, for several of these authors, their Bakudeku portrayals evolved as the series progressed and we all learned more about these characters and the varnish of what BNHA pretends to be (superhero stock shonen!) peeled off to show what it actually is (The newest generation of something that should never have been domesticated now outgrowing the limits of the modern genre.) This is always good to keep in mind when looking at the dates of each work published.

Um, it's hard to pick just a few, and even harder when there's no specific direction about what TYPE. So here's a scattershot off the top of my head:

Me. My work. Read Mundane Crimes, Public Displays of Affection and I Want What I Don't Deserve. Those actually have some substance to them. The rest are kind of whatever, but you may still find them fun.

Kickass AUs and All-Rounders

chymerical is my favorite author on this list. They can do anything. I care about sports now because of chymerical. There's your fuckin' fadeaway.

young_crone - some are truly Bakudeku and some are just great stories that are using familiar names. Read all of 'em.

SmartiMart - Variant Edition is a sweeping epic and fascinating enough that the Bakudeku isn't actually its primary draw for me. Please also read Where in the World is Marigold? It's not Bakudeku, but I love it. SmartiMart is clever, inventive, and sometimes so much of a romantic that it makes me go, "woah, now! That's a bit much!" but in the best way.

iphido - this author has only one work for bakudeku, and it is worth it.

nicc - bite-sized sweet scenes, though many are very NSFW. Consistently excellent.

pikahlua - Dragonheart. this is your kick in the pants to finish those scenes, Pika.

Romantic Comedies

qodqodqod - Cringe comedy where love always, always, always prevails and bakudeku can't out-stupid their way out of it. Great job of not making the miscommunication, or lack of communication, a bore or overdone past what it needs to be.

heartsinhay - the cringe comedies are named that for a reason.

Darker Stuff

rironomind - apparently published something new earlier this year and I missed it??? DAMN! Existential, experimental, melancholic, high concept, fantastic. Rom's work is mostly in this category because it tends to throw curveballs at the reader. This is the category that just felt the most right by its vibes.

bkdkink - Lemonhead specifically.

Roadtripwithlucifer (read their new stuff too) - horny, but focused and full, full, full of ennui and anger and love and grief. It's the confidence of handling the last four that makes these works shine.

Surveycorpsjean - hit or miss for me personally, but always well done.

majjale - always great work; sometimes hit-or-miss for me personally on the bakudeku.

#bakudeku #fic rec #bakudeku fanfic #bnha #ask #bakudeku fic

[lucradiss]

Whoever is ddosing ao3 has to stop bc I can’t look up references for fic fanart without it …

#not art #I’m drawing for razzles’ fic Dragonhearted bc it’s. phenomenal #and I DONT KNOW WHAT THORIN LOOKS LIKE IN THIS FIC #bc he’s all royal and stuff #Bilbo is easy enough!! he wears the same thing in every fic ever!! #but Thorin PLEEAASSEE I’m gonna have to headcanon it at this point #gulp

[freshvanillapng]

part one of the commissions i completed for the lovely @lordoftherazzles!!!

the first is from her AMAZING fic ‘Dragonhearted’ over on AO3.

the second is from another personal favourite fic of mine, ‘Where The Shadows Lie’ also by the beloved Razzy on AO3, go check them out if you haven’t already!!

and a huge big thank you for the commission <3333

#commissions #bagginshield #Thorin Oakenshield #bilbo baggins #thilbo #the hobbit #the hobbit fanart #lord of the rings #lord of the rings fanart #dragonhearted!au #wwdits!au #thank u razzy again for commissioning meeeeee #my art

[fantasyinallforms]

hi, i hope you have a great day! sorry to come with such a sudden ask but my friend just watched the hobbit trilogy not long ago and she really wants to read some bagginshield and i, sadly, have no recommendations of my own for her. can you, maybe, recommend some of your favorite fics? something to heal the soul in the aftermath of the hobbit finale? i'll be really grateful!

Well, hello, friendly Anon! I'm happy to hear your friend is getting into some bagginshield! I have a few personal favorites I enjoy that I would love to share! Some of these require an AO3 account to read, so fair warning. Also, I don't know your age, so always mind tags on all fics.

~For one shots

Songs in the Dark {T} by leoandlancer

Incite and provoke {M} by vintagelilacs

If I could give my breath away (I would) {NR}by StupidFatPenguin

Problem Solved {T} by HiddenKitty

~For long-format works in progress, I recommend

Backs To The Wall {M} by Conkers

One of a King by {E} DomesticGoddess (Everything this writer creates I'm madly in love with.)

Bookbinder//Songwriter {E} by LordOfTheRazzles (My favorite modern AU of all time)

~For long-format stories, there are always the classics you'll hear about 100 times. Some other really good ones are

A Kingly Gift {E} by Middle_Earth_Mama

Roses of Iron {M} by Porphyrios

Dragonhearted {E} by LordOfTheRazzles

#FIAF(me) asks #thank you for the ask! #Fic recs

[happywitch416]

Hello From The Other Side

Elena's office is attached to the Blue Palace at the worst place they could imagine, right next door to the Pelagius Wing. When Runa spots a ghost outside the door, they hightail it home only for Serana to drag them back to solve the mystery. But it only starts a new one when she disappears with the ghost before Elena's eyes.

Mama?"     "Hm?" Elena didn’t look up from their work.     "Did you know there’s a ghost in the Blue Palace?"     All the hair on their arms stood on end as they froze. "There is not."   "Could it come in here?" Runa was fidgeting with her sleeve, staring at the door that led into the palace proper.     "Baby, there’s- there’s no ghost."     "Then why won’t you look?"     Elena took a deep breath and set aside their pen, the inkblot still spreading. Every part of them screamed to not look but they did anyway, telling themself Runa was just messing with them.     Except someone was looking back.

Elena was curled up on the couch when Serana got home. "Runa called- Elena?!" She took their frozen, shaking hands in hers.     "Palace is haunted." They turned green. "Saw it. Wish I didn’t."     "Really?" A brief smile appeared as Elena heard Serana’s brain start working. "Huh. I wonder who it is."     "Does it matter?!"     Serana was hesitant. "It does. It could be anyone, any former ruler or servant. Where did you see it?"     "Ru saw it first, but it was at the door between the office and the rest of the palace wing." Elena let go of her hands to rub at their arms.     "Isn’t that the old Pelagius wing?"     "Aye." Elena said quietly. "I never wanted the office there because of that."     "Which side of the door?"     "Palace. Can it, can it get into my office? If I put a poster over the glass will it fuck off?"     "Darling." Serana very gently took their hands again when their knuckles started cracking as they ground their fingertips together. "Ghosts don’t believe in doors." Elena shrunk in on themself. "I can go look at it." Elena shook their head violently and she let out a soft laugh, tucking back some of their fire red curls. "I am a necromancer, if it talks shit I will make it wish it stayed dead."     Elena groaned, pulling their knees up and pressing their face against them as they mumbled. "I can’t let my wife go yell at ghost by herself." Serana patted their shoulder. "Well, I can’t."

"It may not be anything evil." Elena gave her a sidelong scowl. "Spirits get lost, not everyone is a hero meant for Sovngarde." She reminded them gently before finally saying what she had initially thought when Runa had told her. "It might be Torygg."     Elena let out a hysterical whimper. "I don’t want to be haunted by my dead friend."     "Maybe he doesn’t know Ulfric is dead."     Elena straightened turning thoughtful. "Tor was protective, always wanting the best for people. To keep them safe." Shame crept on to their face. "And he died there. There was no one to protect him, no one that could."     "Except you."     "And I wasn’t there." They sighed. "Fine. We'll go talk to the damn ghost." They scowled when Serana kissed their cheek. "But if it’s some damned demon or crazy emperor, I am going to haunt you."     They settled in at the office, Serana drinking her tea serenely as Elena lined up three energy drink cans. "Do I sit on the floor and chant nonsense?"     "If you want." Serana laughed. "I was going to eat dinner and see if it wanders up."     "How can you eat knowing there’s, that some fucker is looking at us."     "There isn’t." Elena shot her look. "Necromancer."     Elena settled cross legged on Jordis' desk chair and stared at the door as she grumbled mockingly. "Necromancer." Serana snickered.     Elena had both elbows leaned on the desk, eyelids heavy and barely hearing the pages of Serana’s book turn. "I thought this was supposed to be dramatic."     "Just on Runa’s shows." Serana informed them. "Even when I’ve summoned ghosts it’s been pretty boring." Elena’s face contorted. "I didn’t summon any in the house."     "I don’t know why I ever worried about Alduin; I married the scariest thing in Skyrim."     "Yes, you did." Elena about fell out of the chair when she ghosted her fingers up their sides. "Boo."     A groan of laughter left them, and they wrapped their arms around her waist and hid their face against her. "You are so mean."     "It keeps you young." She giggled, running her fingers through their hair. "I think we should call it a night. I haven’t felt-." There was a click against the window glass.     Elena’s stomach fell into their boots, and they swallowed hard before they could speak. "It’s there isn’t it?"     "It is." Serana���s voice was very empty. "It’s not Torygg."  

They nodded; face still pressed to Serana’s stomach. "Thats good." They squeaked.     "I don’t know enough history to tell who it is. Not from my time though." Elena whimpered. "I can look it up. Maybe."     "I can do it." Elena’s voice was barely a whisper, but they let go and turned the chair, eyes screwed shut. Serana’s hands found their shoulders and with a deep breath they opened them.     The figure was watching them, its head tilted to the side with a wide-eyed, slightly crazed smile. "Oh, I hate it." Elena muttered. "A Septim, I think." Its head tilted the other direction slowly, its smile widening. "Stendarr’s mercy." Serana stepped away from them and towards the door. "Hey, wait no." Elena missed grabbing her hand.     They watched, frozen to their seat, fingers clawing into the wood as Serana reached out and opened the door.     And then vanished with the ghost.     "Serana?!" Elena bolted across the room, grabbing the still open door and searched the hallway beyond wildly. "Serana? This isn’t funny." They waited a breath, and there was nothing but silence.     Elena pulled out their phone, their breathing rapid and was near lightheaded before someone answered.     "Elena?" Illia groggily answered, checking the time and her brows furrowed.     "I’m. help. At the office. Serana. There was a ghost and she’s gone, and I don’t know what to do." Elenas voice gradually grew louder and faster as they continued to babble. “But she disappeared and so did it and.”   Illia cut them off. "Breathe, Elena, we are on our way."     They found Elena staring at the still open door, their skin so pale they glowed. "What happened?" Illia bent to look into their eyes and then spoke over her shoulder. "They’re in shock, grab a blanket and make some tea." Jordis nodded and disappeared down the other hall. "Elena." She set her hands gently on their shoulders, heart aching when Elena jerked. "I need you to talk to me, honey. I can’t help if I don’t know what happened."     Elena nodded slowly and started to explain, letting Jordis wrap a blanket around their shoulders and shove a hot mug of bitter tea into their hands. "And then she just disappeared. With the ghost."     "You said it looked like a Septim?" Elena nodded and Illia pulled out her phone. "You know they’ve said for years that the Pelagius wing is haunted."     "But where, why would a ghost take her?"     "She’s a powerful necromancer." She sorted out all the Septims that had never lived in the Blue Palace, and then all the women. "If they have unfinished business, she’d be able to help."     "They can’t ask nicely?" They squawked.     Illia held out her phone. "Which of these?"  

Elena studied them a moment and then blew hard out through their nose. "Pelagius the Mad."     "You are certain?" Elena nodded. "Well fuck."     "What, what do we do?" The panicked look returned. “We can do something right?”     "Right now, I say we wait and make a call to Ranmeif, ghosts can’t just kidnap someone."     "But a daedra can." Elena grumbled pulling out their phone. "If I have to walk through Oblivion for the next century, so fucking be it." Their fingers shook too much to dial. "I want my wife back, work damn it."     Ranmeif was on his way, Illia was going through her sources and Jordis had both eyes on Elena. They still hadn’t left the chair, fingers wrapped around their wrist so tight their fingers were colorless as they stared down the door.     "It’ll be alright, Elena." A hysterical whimper answered her. "This might be the weirdest shit in your life though." Elena shook their head. "And she’s more than capable of taking care of herself."     "I know that." Elena snapped with a scowl. "She wrangles me and the kids without batting an eyelash and is a teacher. No Daedric lord stands a chance."     There was a pop and cloud of mauve colored smoke that had Elena out of their chair and ducked behind a filing cabinet. Coughing, Serana waved her hand in front of her face and stepped out of it. "Elena?"     "Oh, thank fuck." Serana’s feet left the floor, a staff clattering from her hand as she hugged Elena close. They set her down, barely, their shaking fingers brushing her cheek. "Are you okay? Where did you go? What the fuck-"     "I’m alright." She smiled up at them. "I’m alright, Elena." They nodded looking green and she pulled them back down into a hug. Elena buried their face against her neck and breathed her in until the shaking stopped. "If it makes it better, he won’t be back."     "I’m working from home forever." They mumbled. "And I’m going to sit on you while I do."     Illia picked up the staff, studying the screaming face. "Is this the wabbajack?"     "Yeah." Serana stepped away from Elena who reached out and grabbed her hand in a vice grip that made her smile. "From Sheo himself."     "You have to tell me what happened." Illia gushed.     Jordis interrupted as Elena opened their mouth. "And I’ll take tall, red and anxious to get coffee." Elena scowled, wrapping both hands around Serana’s. "Nope, come on you." Jordis snagged their elbow and yanked them towards the door. "I’m going to be sick if I have to keep watching you."     "I’d hope your wife gets kidnapped by a daedra but she’d study them like a bug in a jar."     "You think yours didn’t?"  Elena Songschild Master List

The Witch Writes Master List

#dragonborn/serana #nonbinary dragonborn/serana #female dragonborn/serana #otp: dragonheart #halloween fic #skyrim fic #ao3 link in the replies <3