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asumofwords · 8 months

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The Sublet - Roommate!AU

Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along. Angst (come on its me), feelings of sadness and betrayal, discussion of domestic abuse.

Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader

Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?

Notes: I was stuck in a bit of a writers funk there for a moment, but I think I'm out of it which hopefully means I can start slanging dick from my requests. Also as a side note, abusive relationships are really hard to escape, and often very confusing for the victims and people around them. Anywaaaaay, enjoy! <3

Chapter 11: Scars Of The Past

Work had been something you wished would go faster, eyes cast up to the clock on your wall, watching the seconds tick by painfully slow.

You glanced intermittently at the time on your computer, or the one on the screen of your phone. The day seemed to crawl at a snails pace as you eagerly wished to get home to see him.

Aemond had changed, for the better, and the dynamic that had grown between the two of you had, in your opinion, perhaps gone past a casual escapade.

Cregan had never spent days on end with you in your bed, nor had he cooked every single night for you. Nor had he read to you, or indulged you in your every want and wish.

This was much different to the casual dynamic that you had with Northerner, and the more you thought about it, the more you wondered what you were to Aemond. Did he feel the same way? Was he too having these thoughts today? Watching to clock slowly roll by as he waited at home for you?

Was he jogging to fill the time until you would return?

Did he feel the same pull? The same shift? The same longing for more?

It was something that you clearly needed to talk about, and something that you planned to tonight. You weren’t one to beat around the bush, and you felt that Aemond was the same.

When the clock finally struck 5, and the work day ended, you all but raced from the office and to the train, stopping by the grocery store to buy ingredients to cook him your favourite meal, grabbing your shared favourite ice cream tub to share afterwards as a treat.

You had to force yourself to not skip home, a sweet giddiness spreading into your chest warmly as you sped walked with grocery bags in tow, work bag slung over your shoulder. Your heart raced in your chest as you thought of if he would like your meal.

It raced even faster when you began to roll words around your mind on how to ask him what this was. It was too heated to be casual. Too chemical to be a one time thing. Too high strung for just a month of fun. And you had hopes that it would continue after Helaena came back.

Helaena.

That was another hurdle that you would eventually have to take.

After your talk with Aemond, of course.

When you got to the door of your apartment, you had to juggle your bags to reach for your keys, placing the groceries on the floor awkwardly as you fished around in your work bag on your shoulder.

When the tips of your fingers sought them out, pulling them from an inside pocket, a sound inside the apartment caused your ears to prick up. It was a sound that should not have been there, all things considered.

Your heart began to race in your chest.

But the sound persisted, low and steady.

Behind the door of your apartment, came the hum of a feminine voice.

Your brows pulled together.

Was Helaena back early? She hadn’t told you that she was coming back yet.

Something uncomfortable settled in your gut.

You pushed your keys in the door and opened it slowly, careful to not make noise, picking up your groceries as quietly as you could to enter, shutting the door behind you. You placed your keys in the bowl, heart sinking into your gut.

You could hear it now, a singsongy purr from a woman and the quieter, softer timbre of Aemond.

You got to the end of the corridor and your eyes fell to the couch.

Aemond’s head flicked up to you, hair tied back away from his face in a low bun, wearing all black with his shoes on.

It looked like he had been out for a run.

His body was tensed, shoulders rolled back and hands in fists at his sides.

Beside him, a woman you recognised.

Alys Rivers sat prim and pretty on your couch.

In your apartment.

Next to your-

Next to Aemond.

She wore a green top that hugged all of her curves, breasts pushed high and forward on her chest, cleavage on show by the low cut of the top. Her waist was tiny, pulled in by high black pants, and on her feet were a pair of shiny, black stilettos. Her dark hair was brushed over her shoulder, long and straight, and her red lips pursed as she looked at you.

Bright green eyes became narrowed, and all of a sudden you felt unwelcome in your own home.

You watched as her lips parted and her tongue pressed into the tip of her canine before she shut her mouth, saccharine smile pulling on her painted red lips as she turned to Aemond, hand rested on his knee.

“Aemy, you didn’t tell me you had a friend coming over.” Her voice was melodic, and if you didn’t know about her character, you would say that she sounded almost sweet.

But you knew it was a sirens song.

Your hands tightened around the bags handles, “I live here.” You grit out.

Alys turned her head back to you, and your eyes stayed on her as her thumb stroked against his knee, his fists tightening at his side, pale knuckles looking paler. But Aemond did not tell her to stop, and only looked at you with an expression you couldn’t decipher.

“Oh.” Alys responded, eyes roaming across the apartment at your furnishings slowly, far too slowly to be admiration, subtle judgement in her eyes, “It’s a lovely home. Quaint.”

Heat rose in your cheeks and you had to force yourself to move, unsticking your feet from the floor. You moved towards the kitchen, sparing Aemond a concerned look as you began putting away all your groceries.

“Thanks.” You told her stiffly, back turned, eyes narrowed at the splash back tiles of the sink.

“How do you and Aemond know each other?” She enquired from behind, and before you could turn to face her and tell her, Aemond answered for you.

“She’s Helaena’s roommate.”

Your heart sank.

Helaena’s roommate.

Not friend.

Not lover.

Not undecided whatever the hell you were.

Helaena’s roommate.

Anger began to rise inside, followed with jealousy and hurt. A most dangerous trio.

You wrenched the freezer open, carelessly tossing the ice cream inside.

Why was she here?

Why did he let her inside?

Why was she touching him?

You turned back to the couch standing in front of Aemond and Alys.

She stood, tall on her long legs and reached a hand out to you, red painted nails like sharp claws pointed at you, “Alys.”

“I know.” You looked at her hand, not dignifying her with your name nor pleasantries.

She was an abuser, and with the way her face fell, the smile dropping completely, you knew the act was all fake.

Alys dropped her hand and stepped back to sit back down on the couch again, using it as an excuse to sit closer to him, thigh against his and hand back on his knee. You watched as Aemond’s eye flicked down to the hand, lips parting as he breathed shallowly.

The tip of her nail scratched against his thigh.

A false laugh fell from her lips, “Bad day at work, I’m guessing?” She smirked at you.

Your teeth ground against each other, “Work was fine. Just wasn’t expecting…” Your eyes flicked to Aemond, wishing he’d look at you, give you any indication that he needed help, but he didn’t, and when his eye met yours, there was resignation in it, “Company.” You spat.

Her pale hand lifted, tucking a strand of stray silver hair that had fallen in front of his face, behind Aemond’s ear.

He didn’t flinch.

He didn’t shy away.

He sat stiffly and allowed it.

“It was a spur of the moment visit.” A small giggle fell from her lips, “It’s been so long since we have seen each other, and I thought a reunion was in order. We have had a lot to catch up on.”

“Have you?” You asked, but your tone was directed to him.

Please give me a sign you need help.

Give me a sign you want her gone.

Aemond hummed, nodding in agreement.

Your heart sank again.

“I was thinking of cooking-“

“-Oh, we’ve already eaten. Haven’t we?” Alys interrupted you, looking at Aemond with a wide smile.

Your lips parted, and it felt like she had dug her perfectly manicured claws into your chest, gut turning.

Aemond didn’t meet your gaze, eye looking anywhere but you.

“I hope he hasn’t been causing you trouble.” The woman lightly joked, hand rubbing up and down his thigh.

The urge to cry reared its ugly head inside of you.

“He’s been the perfect gentleman.” You responded quietly, feeling all hope be sucked out of you.

You didn’t know what to do.

Another laugh, the sound grating in your ears, “That doesn’t sound like you.” She purred, double meaning not lost on you.

A blush creeped across your cheeks, and Alys narrowed her bright eyes at you once more.

Silence settled over the three of you, and you wished he would say something, or show you a sign that he wanted or needed your help, but no matter how long you stared at him, he refused to meet your gaze.

Alys cleared her throat primly, eyes sweeping across the room in mock discomfort, “I’m sorry, we haven’t spoken in some time.”

She was trying to dismiss you.

In your own home.

The anger was back.

Your arms crossed over your chest.

“And?” You held your ground.

This was his chance.

His last chance of an out if he wanted it.

If he needed it.

Alys sucked her tongue, jaw shifting in annoyance as she looked at you.

She thought this would be easy.

“I had hopes that me and Aemond could catch up…” She looked at you pointedly, “Alone.”

“You’re in my house.” You all but sneered.

“Y/n.” Aemond’s voice finally rose from the couch, but it did nothing but serve as a warning to you.

Stand down.

One last chance.

You looked at Aemond, pleading him with your eyes, asking him if he needed an out wordlessly one last time, but he didn’t take it, nor did it look like he needed it.

Aemond nodded at you with a slow blink.

And there it was.

Your dismissal.

Any hope that you had crashed back down to earth, shattering into a thousand different pieces as Alys smirked at you triumphantly. You set your jaw in a hard line, and turned on your foot, heading straight to your room and closing the door behind you.

Tears immediately overflowed from your eyes, sliding down your cheeks wetly. Sharp pain twisted in your chest and stomach, and a sense of shame and embarrassment curled around you.

How stupid had you been?

Why did you feel this way?

Did he invite her here?

Did he want to get back with her?

Were you nothing to him?

The way he had dismissed you hurt. The way he had stopped you from coming to his defence had hurt. And the way she had looked at you in triumph, the way she had touched him, and the way he didn’t stop her, hurt.

You laid in your bed, not bothering to get changed and cried into your pillow until the room grew dark, and the realm was bathed in night. You laid numbly in bed, stomach grumbling with hunger.

You checked your phone.

10pm.

Fuck.

You didn’t want to go to the kitchen, to eat and see her again. You knew that your eyes would be red, that you would be teary and emotional, and you didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

Not too long after, you heard footsteps behind your door, the steady click of heels disappearing down the hall before you heard the front door open and shut softly. Your heart raced in your chest as you sat in the dark, listening and waiting to hear his footsteps disappear into his room so that you could leave yours.

You listened to the soft footfall as it came up the hall, pausing at your door.

Holding your breath, you sat up in your bed, looking under the door, the shadow of two feet blocking the light from the lounge room.

Time seemed to stretch forever and then finally-

Knock Knock.

You let out the breath you had been holding, looking at the crack beneath in the dark, mind turning a million miles an hour.

Do you go to him? See if he was okay?

Do you respect your own need for space?

Did he need comfort?

Was he angry?

A new thought turned in your mind. More bitter than the last.

Why would he be angry?

He’s the one who dismissed you in front of her, and all you could see was her smug smirk at you when he had done it. It had made you feel so small, so foolish, so unwanted and like a child again, sent to bed with no supper.

Knock Knock Knock.

You stared at the door.

You didn’t know what to do.

You didn’t know what you could do.

“Y/n. Please.” His quiet voice came from behind the door.

You blinked in the dark, feeling tears begin to gather in your eyes again. Time stretched, and you watched his feet shift his weight and shuffle.

Aemond sighed from behind the door and you watched as his feet disappeared from view of the light underneath. Your stomach clenched, and an ache spread further into your chest.

You waited until you were sure that he was gone before you crawled out of bed, stomach pulling painfully in hunger.

You pressed an ear to the door, listening for any sounds of him outside, and when you heard no sign of his footsteps or the tv, you decided to leave your room.

You were halfway to the kitchen when you saw him, head in his hands on the couch.

He looked halfway to defeated, shoulders hunched forward as he breathed slowly. But he had heard your approach and you watched as all vulnerability bled out of him and he straightened, lifting his eye to look at you.

You locked in a stare, unsure of what to do as you looked at him, hoping he would speak first, hoping he would make the first move, because you didn’t know how to in that moment.

Didn’t know how to move forward or talk about what had just happened.

It didn’t help that you felt used.

And hurt.

And cast aside.

And you knew it was more complicated than that, but there was just something about the way he had dismissed you in front of a woman who had done so much damage to him. Dismissed you as though you were nothing. Called you his sisters roommate and not even his friend. Acquaintance. Someone he had spent over a month getting to know. Someone he had spent over a week sleeping in their bed, cock or tongue between thighs. Gentle whispers in the morning, soft smiles in the evening.

It made you feel like nothing.

It was clear that Aemond wasn’t going to say anything as you waited another pregnant pause, so you tore your eyes away from him and continued into the kitchen to make yourself some two minute noodles, meal that had been planned for the both of your forgotten.

You could feel his gaze on the back of your head, heated. It made your skin ripple in discomfort.

Filling a pot with water, you set it on the stove to boil, moving as quickly as you could to pull down a bowl and grab the noodle packet from the cupboard, tearing the sachet open and dumping the flavouring into the bowl.

You felt his presence behind you before you heard him speak.

“Are you okay?” He questioned you, and you fought to not scoff.

Why was he asking you that?

“Are you?” You replied back, turning to face him against the bench, waiting for the water to boil.

“I’m fine.” He said flatly, and you raised a singular brow at him in question.

Aemond’s face remained stoic.

“Why was she here, Aemond? If I had known-“

“-Why does it matter?”

You blanched.

Why did it matter?

“What do you mean why does it matter? She abused you, Aemond! I was worried about you.”

His brows pulled into a frown, “She didn’t abuse me. We just fought a lot.”

Denial.

“Aemond,” You said, voice softer this time, “It was abuse.”

Anger rippled across his face, “I wish you would just drop it. I shouldn’t have even told you.”

You stepped back in shock, hip bumping into a drawer handle sharply.

“I won’t just drop it. I’m worried about you.”

Aemond sighed through his nose, “I don’t need you to look after me.”

The water began to boil, and so did your patience, “I’m not saying you need me to. I care about you, Aemond. And so naturally it was a shock to come home and find her in the apartment after what you had told me- what- not even two weeks past?”

“She’s my ex, what did you want me to do?” He asked you incredulously, and you turned to dump the noodles in the water, watching them be swallowed down into the bubbles.

“I just don’t understand why you would bring her here in the first place without even telling me.” You looked up into his eye, and you could tell he was noting the way your own were red and puffy from crying.

His lips pursed and then flattened, “I’ll make sure to tell you before next time.”

“Next time?” You had to force yourself to not yell, feeling anger and sadness swirl around in your gut like a whirlpool, dragging you under.

“I didn’t- She just rocked up.”

You scoffed, “Yeah, but how did she know where you were, Aemond?”

The man stayed quiet, and there was something about it that made you step back away from him.

“Are you getting back with her?” You asked, voice quiet and weak, praying that you didn’t sound as pathetic as you thought you did to your own ears.

Silence again.

You blinked, feeling the sting of tears in your eyes again.

“After everything we- After- I thought-”

“-You thought what?” His voice was cool and even, void of any emotion, as though he had put himself behind a very thick door, lock and key.

“Are you getting back with her?” You asked again, voice uneven, cracking at the end heavily with emotion, thick lump stuck in your throat that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard you swallowed.

Again, silence, though something flickered behind Aemond’s eye, and you watched as his brow pulled froward.

Your heart raced in your chest, “Okay. So what was this then? Was this nothing?”

Aemond’s lips opened and then shut, once, twice, three times before a large sigh came from his lips, “I don’t know.”

Pain ravaged you sharply, tugging at your chest as you looked up at the man. You moved to the pot, straining the water out, turning your face away from him as you blinked away tears.

“You don’t know?”

His gaze was hot on the side of your face as you plopped the noodles into your bowl, turning to face him again, biting the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from crying. The only thing keeping you together, the process and mechanical way you made your dinner.

“I don’t know anything right now.” Aemond’s voice was low, “My heads a mess. Seeing Alys-”

Oh.

A terrible realisation dawned on you.

He still loves her.

A lone tear fell down your cheek, and you watched as Aemond’s hand twitched at his side, arm beginning to lift towards you.

You shook your head angrily, stepping away, swiping up the bowl of hot noodles, “I need to think.”

“Y/n, wait.”

You didn’t wait, and stormed away to your room, kicking the door shut behind you as you sat down, noodles forgotten beside the bed, sobs wracking your body as you cried.

He still loved her.

He still loved her, and you had been a fool to think that what you shared was anything else than casual to him.

At times you could have sworn his gazes lingered moments too long to be anything casual, but you guess you were wrong.

Wrong about it all.

An idiot.

But some of the grief that you felt was for him. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t see how bad she was for him. Couldn’t see how he didn’t deserve it. He was trapped, and there was nothing you could do to make him see.

People will only accept help if they allow it. And you could not force help on him. It was something he had to come to terms with on his own.

What was more, the guilt inside of you had been steadily eating at your resolve, gnawing away at you as you betrayed your best friend by sleeping with her brother.

But not only that, you think you were falling for him.

You reached for your phone, calling the only person you knew who would listen to you.

“Hey scuttle bug!” Helaena’s voice chirped sleepily from the other end, “Don’t tell me you’re drunk.” She joked, and a sad sob passed through your lips at the sound of it.

She was going to hate you.

She was never going to talk to you again.

And you deserved it.

“Hey,” She cooed into the phone, voice suddenly alert and filled with concern, “What’s wrong?”

You sucked in another sob, chest aching and stomach feeling wrought with anxiety, “You're going to hate me.” You cried, hiccup stuttering your uneven breath, “You’re going to hate me so much, Hel. I’ve ruined everything.”

You heard shuffling in the background, as though Helaena had sat herself up in bed, “What?” She listened to another broken sob come from your chest, “Y/n take some deep breaths, okay?”

You did as she said.

“What’s happened?”

This was it.

It was now or never.

No going back now.

And once the words would leave your lips, you would be banished from her life forever.

You were about to lose two people you held dearly to you.

You swiped tears away from your face in agitation, angry with yourself for what you had done, “I slept with Aemond.”

Silence on the other end.

Your heart broke.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Hel. I’m a terrible friend. I know I fucked up, I just don’t know what to do. I'm sorry. I know you hate me, I-“

“-Hey, hey, hey, slow down, bug. I don’t hate you.”

Your nails dug into your palm as you apologised again and again, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them.

Helaena tried to calm you on the other end, asking what happened, and so you told her everything, from start to finish, all the way up until your encounter not too long ago, bar the personal things about Alys that Aemond told you. That was his story to tell.

“I know what I’ve done is wrong, and you’ll never forgive me-“

“Y/n,” Helaena cooed on the other end of the phone, “I don’t hate you at all. Disappointed you didn’t tell me sooner, yeah,” You winced, another tear falling from your cheek, “But I had a feeling it would happen.”

You sniffled, “What?”

Helaena laughed on the other end softly, not at you, but in a knowing way that she always had, “I mean, I always assumed it would. You’re both so similar. You’d be perfect if he wasn’t such an asshole.”

“He’s not an asshole.” You immediately defended him, cringing at your own voice.

Helaena hummed in a way that Aemond usually did, and it made your heart clench.

You heard shuffling on the other end of the phone, followed by some muffled whispering.

“Where are you right now?” Helaena asked softly, mumbling to someone again.

Confused you responded, “In my room?”

You thought it would be obvious where you were.

“Daeron’s just organised a ride and a plane for you to come to the Keep.”

You blanched, surprised, “Hel, I can’t. I have work.”

“Fuck work.” She exclaimed on the other side, “My best friend needs me, and I need her. Besides, can’t cancel it now, the drivers on his way.”

“What?” You were breathless, panic rising inside of you.

You heard Helaena yawn on the other end, “Better pack your bag quickly, should be there in like twenty if we’re lucky. I’ll tell mum to tell Larys you need time off. He won’t and can’t say no to her.”

“Hel-“

“No ‘ifs’ or ‘buts’. You’re coming.”

You smiled sadly, grateful that she was such a good friend but feeling like a burden. She was going to fly you to her, whilst her dad was sick, and because what? You had fucked her brother, developed feelings for him, and he had all but rejected you?

But Helaena knew you too well.

“You’re not a burden, and you need some space right now. Aemond does too, and he won’t come here. He needs some time alone to think of what he wants and process seeing Alys.”

You bit your lip and chewed on it softly, “Okay.” You paused not sure what to do, “Thank you, I know I don’t-“

“-Shush. You already had an invitation to come here anyway, so no time like the present. You can atone for your sins by giving me a hug when you get here and telling me the longer story of what has happened. Not to mention get Aegon out of my hair. He’s been such a pest.”

You chuckled softly. You didn’t know what you would do without her, you felt relieved that she wasn’t going to cast you out of her life, though the guilt still lingered, multiplying tenfold by her generosity.

Helaena stayed on the phone with you the entire time as you packed, telling you what to bring and what not to bring. By the time your bag was full and you were ready to go, the driver was downstairs.

You opened your bedroom door, darkness shrouding the apartment.

Your eyes immediately flicked to Aemond’s.

It was closed.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Taglist:

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460 notes · View notes

talaok · 11 months

Note

Hey . First I wanted to say that you are my favorite writer on tumblr ❤❤

And I wanted to ask if you can write a pedro × reader where the reader wakes up in the middle of the night finds pedro starring at her?

I don't know how to develop it but I loved the long things you write ❤

I honestly don’t know what to say, thank you so much for saying that, really ❤️❤️

It wasn't a habit, it was sort of just... ok it was a habit.

Pedro was an awful sleeper. Falling asleep was hell, and even when he did, most times he'd find himself waking up in the middle of the night.

That's how this "habit" had started.

Usually, when he had trouble sleeping he'd get out of bed and either start his day at 4 in the morning or watch tv until the sun came out. But since you moved in with him... he found something else he liked to do much more.

As creepy as it sounded, he like to watch you, he liked to admire the peaceful look on your face as you dreamed, he liked to observe your chest inflating and deflating slowly, hell, he even liked watching you snort once in a while.

And tonight was no different.

The clock marked 3:35 and his eyes were on you, his heart warming at the thought that you were his, that for some miracle, he had found someone as perfect as you.

that's where his mind always went, as he watched your parted lips suck in slow breaths, he would wonder what he did to deserve this, to deserve you.

And this time, he was so hypnotized by the tiny movements your mouth made, that he didn't even notice you opening your eyes.

"Are you staring at me?" you finally asked after some time, your voice hoarse with sleep, and yet sweet as ever.

His eyes shot up to yours, a tint of panic in them.

"shit-sorry, I didn't mean to wake you"

"you didn't" you reassured him, snuggling closer to him, and placing your head on his chest "You didn't answer me"

A small smile tugged at his lips, there was no point in denying the obvious "I was. I was staring at you"

"why? Did I look funny?"

"no, not at all" he rushed to say, moving some hair out of your face as he stroked your cheek "You just look beautiful... peaceful"

You blushed and could only respond with a kiss.

"I love you" he murmured against your lips

"I love you too" you promised, before leaning away

"You can't sleep again?"

"I slept for a while, but I woke up"

"I'm sorry" you pouted "You want to do something?"

He raised an eyebrow suggestively and you smiled, shaking your head.

"Not that, we went to sleep just four hours ago baby"

"Alright," he sighed, "then what?"

"I don't know, we could... watch a movie"

"You're gonna fall asleep by the time the opening credits start, sweetheart" Pedro laughed "Go back to sleep baby, I'll find something to do, don't worry"

You gasped, feigning offense "I'm not gonna fall asleep"

"sure you aren't"

you raised yourself, grabbing the remote from the bedside table "alright, bet" you challenged, turning the tv on.

"what do you wanna watch?" you asked,

"Whatever you want to, sugar" he sweet-talked, his tone still a bit mocking.

"We can finish watching Nights in Rodanthe"

"sure," he said.

You put the movie on and as you turned back, he was watching you with an amused smile.

"c'mere,"

"Why, so you can make fun of me?"

"no, I'm sorry, you're right, you won't fall asleep"

"that's right" You nodded, satisfied, as you nuzzled up against him "It was just one time"

more like ten

"I know" he spoke, his voice warm and gentle as his arm kept you close "Don't worry"

"mh-mh" you nodded lazily, your eyelids suddenly a thousand pounds each, and his chest comfier than any pillow.

He grabbed the blanket to cover you, and by the time he looked back at you, you were already gone.

He smiled to himself, as once again, he remained enchanted by you.

By the time the movie's end credits rolled, he was still looking at you.

800 notes · View notes

causeilikelix · 4 months

Note

hii im the anon who sent the hard dom lixie post ,, and i totally think ur right !! i also feel after that event..hes a lil bit more touchy with u !! just to help get the point across

also idk if u take anons but just would love to be 🐹 anon if you do !! if not thats totally ok , im literally just eating up everything u post

omg hi!!! Yes, you can totally be 🐹 anon! I've never had one before tbh so welcome!!! The support means so much to me! tbh I wish I posted more lol but writers block exists.

Except for right now cause WOW

Part 2 to this ask, but it doesn't necessarily have to be read to understand this

MINORS DNI!!!! Smut under the cut! I............................ got carried away. Warnings under the cut

YES totally. Lix is already a pretty touchy-feely person so like you showing interest in him being a little more dominant and, dare I saw, possessive would really turn on the Clingy.

(banner credit @cafekitsune)

(Warnings: established relationship, dom!Felix?, dirty talk, semi public sex, unprotected sex (it's only fun in fiction), creampie, afab!reader)

This man needs all of his friends (and your friends) to know that you're his. Unless you ask him not to for whatever reason, Felix would mark you up every. time. I mean, first of all it feels amazing to have his lips on you. So pillowy and soft and the way he sucks on your neck is just heavenly!

Any time you hang out with his friends this man has his hands on you in one way or another. He's constantly back hugging you, holding your hand, cuddling with on the couch, whatever. Sometimes, he'd lean over and whisper the filthiest shit into your ear just to make you blush.

"You look so hot in this dress, baby. Who'd you wear it for?"

"I bet you'd love for me to bend you over the couch and take you right here, huh? Want the guys to see how well you take me."

"Sweet girl, I bet your soaked right now. I can practically smell you."

It doesn't take him long to convince you to either leave the gathering or sneak off to the bathroom with him. All of his dirty talk is, in fact, soaking through your underwear. That deep voice of his gets you every fucking time.

The other boys roll their eyes and turn up the music when Felix drags you back to the bathroom. The bass helps drown out the yelp that falls from your mouth the second Felix flips up the skirt of your dress to run his fingertips along the gusset of your panties. He moans into your mouth when he feels how wet you are.

"Filthy girl, I knew you were wet." He growls.

"You always make me wet." You grin at him

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath as he slips his fingers into your panties to touch you properly. You moan instantly at the contact. "Babe, you've gotta let me fuck you. I'm so hard I don't think I'll make it home."

"But the guys-'

"Don't pretend like you didn't love them listening in last time. I remember how tight your cunt clamped on to me when you heard them turn the TV off. C'mon baby, please. I need you so bad." Felix rocks his hips into yours a little and sure enough you can feel his hardness poking at your stomach. It makes your mouth water and your pussy clench at the thought of fucking him here.

"One condition." You whisper as he starts to press hot kisses into your neck. His fingers slide into your heat with no resistance and you choke back a moan.

"Anything."

"Don't pull out this time."

At this, he pulls away from you to look you in the eye. At first, you worry that he's going to pull away completely. The motions of his fingers inside you slow to a stop but he doesn't take them out. His eyebrows furrow.

"Are you serious?"

You'd talked about the risks before, and it wasn't like he hadn't done it before but it wasn't something super common in your relationship.

"Deadly serious." You gripped the back of his neck and pulled him in, "Don't you want us to go back out there to your friends, your cum dripping down my legs to show them once and for all that you're not as soft as they think you are?"

Felix's eyes darkened immediately.

"Ask and you shall receive, baby." He growled.

He grabbed your waist and roughly spun you around and bent you over the bathroom sink. Your panties are discarded around one ankle before he's nudging your legs apart. Excitement sparks through your bloodstream when you hear Felix messing with the button and zipper on his jeans.

A few moments later, something hot swipes through your folds. You moan as the head of his dick nudges against your clit a few times. He teases you by nudging your clit then moving up to press against your hole before taking it away to nudge your clit again.

You swear you've never been so empty in your life.

"Felix, I swear, if you don't fuck me right no- ah!" You let out a sudden moan when Felix finally pressed his cock into you. He suck in slowly, letting you feel every single inch. When his hips meet your ass, you moan again.

"Good girl, let them hear you. I knew you wanted to act like a little slut. You wanted me to fuck you where they could hear you, huh? Let everyone know how well you take cock" Felix moans, the noise going straight to your clit.

He always feels so good inside of you. It's like his cock was made to stretch you open. His thrusts are slow at first, getting you used to him despite how many times you've taken him. He pants against your neck and you rock back onto him.

"Fuck you feel so good, baby, your little cunt always takes me so well." Felix compliments, his hands kneading your ass and thighs. One hand circles up to brush through your folds. Your cunt clenches the second he finds your clit. "You're so tight! How is any of my cum going to fit inside you?"

You open your mouth to answer him but all that comes out is a moan. He rocks into you steadily and he circles your clit with two fingers. It isn't long before your thighs begin to tremble and the knot in your stomach pulls taut.

"Aw," he chides, "Are you gonna cum on my cock, beautiful? Come on, baby, cream for me, yeah?"

It doesn't take much else. It never does. Felix plays your body like an instrument. He always knows just where to touch, just what to say, just where to angle the head of his cock to get you to fall apart for him. You cum, squeezing him tightly. He moans through your orgasm, holding onto his own so he can ride yours out.

"Good girl," he praises, "Make a mess on my cock. When we get home I'll have you clean me up. Fuck! Pussy gets so tight when she cums."

If there's one thing Felix loves, it's feeling every single moment of your orgasm. The way your legs shake, the way your pussy quivers and tightens, the way your wetness leaves a shimmering sheen on his cock. He swears he can never get enough of you.

As your orgasm wanes, his thrusts speed up. He moans into your ear and every sound makes you clench. You wonder if you could cum again. His thrusts are quick and deep. Your pussy aches and throbs but in the best way possible. Overstimulation sparks through your veins, but part of you wonders if it's just another orgasm creeping up on you.

"Fuck, baby, I'm not gonna last. Tell me where you want me to cum. Now!" He threads a hand into your hair so he can tilt your head to see your fucked-out face. The drool seeping from your lips and your hooded eyes make his orgasm threaten to spill without warning.

"In-" A particularly harsh thrust makes you moan, "Inside. Please! Please cum inside. "

"So tight! Fuck, fuck, cumming!"

And he does. He pushes himself into you as deep as he possibly can and releases his orgasm right against your cervix. The warmth makes your cunt pulse and you reach down to rub your clit. A circle or two later, you fall into another orgasm that squeezes him to coax more of him into you.

Felix rocks his hips into you a few more times to unload every generous spurt of cum inside you before finally pulling out.

He puts his hands on your ass cheeks and spreads you open. You blush when you feel his eyes on your spent hole. You wait for the telltale feeling of some of the warmth in your cunt to slip out, but nothing does. After a minute, Felix lands a soft smack on your ass before pulling your panties back up your legs.

"Come on, I've got you." Felix coaxes you to stand up and turn back around. Your legs quiver and you hold onto him. "You held it all in, baby. Nothing's leaking out."

"Guess you'll have to give me some more to make sure it slides down my legs." You quip, even though you know you probably couldn't take more right now.

"Maybe next time, angel. This time I want you to make sure you keep every drop in there. I'll check later and if you've let a single drop go to waste, I'll give you refill after refill until you can't hold it anymore. " Felix's voice sent a shiver down your spine, "Think you can handle that?"

You're nodding and clenching your thighs before he's even done talking.

"Good girl."

#🐹 anon #an ask!#felix smut #yongbok smut #lee felix smut #skz felix smut #stray kids smut #ellie writes #skz smut #kpop smut #got carried away #enjoy lol #lee yongbok smut

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neteyamssyulang · 6 months

Text

✥ Intimate Allures ✥

✥ Pairing: Jake Sully x Fem human mate x Neytiri ✥

✥ Based on this request ✥

✥ Background: All you and Neytiri wanted was a little fun while your other mate Jake was gone doing his olo’eyktan duties, what could go wrong?

✥ Warnings: Frustrated Neytiri, Switch Neytiri, Switch reader, Oral (N receiving), Male masturbation (Jake watching), Bit of aftercare at the end.

✥ Total word count: 863 ✥

✥ Translation(s): Kelku -> Home, Nga, Tstu nefä, heyn nekll ulte pekfk! -> You, Shut up, sit down and watch!, Sì nga, palmks tsenga nga ftär stt! -> And you, continue where you left off!, Srane ha'na -> Yes ma’am.

✥ A/N: Writers block has been a pain in the ass lately so my apologies for not getting this out sooner, I hope you like this babes <3

The day came for Jake to go out and meet with the other clan leaders to try and establish a treaty between all of them, he didn't want to leave you and Neytiri but he had no choice.

After bidding you two and his kids goodbye Jake set off along with a few warriors to the meeting spot. Neytiri and you decided to have a bit of fun time so you both went back into your kelku and climbed into the hammock.

You were laying on your back with your mate ontop of you, the both of you sharing a slow passionate kiss when the flaps of the kelku burst open with Lo'ak walking in.

"Ewww! Moms really?" He gagged shielding his eyes with his arms. Neytiri hissed "I pray for the strength that I will not pluck the eyeballs out of my youngest son!"

Lo'ak gulped "I just wanted to know if I could use dad’s camera fo-" "Yes yes just take it my son and go!" Not wanting to stay another minute there Lo'ak grabbed the camera running out of the kelku and into Neteyam.

"Bro what's wrong? palulukan got your tongue?" Neteyam laughed ruffling his little brothers hair. "Do not go in there.." he pointed to the family's kelku before running off still holding the camera.

Neteyam raised a non existent eyebrow till he heard it- the giggles of his moms coming from inside the kelku, he shuddered as he too ran off but in a different direction.

Before you and your mate could go farther Tuk bursted in demanding she sit with you guys. Neytiri huffed moving off you making room for Tuk to jump into the hammock.

After who knows how many hours Tuk fell asleep so you and Neytiri decided to go out and have your fun, as soon as you both stepped out though lightning crackled in the sky and a storm began.

In the corner of your eye you saw Neytiri's tail swishing angrily, "Well it looks like the great mother does not want us to have fun."

Your mate turned to you hissing "Do not say that" before going back inside with you following close behind.

Two days have passed now, your both finally alone and everything is perfect, taking the chance you lay between your mates legs about to eat her out when once again the flaps of the kelku fly open but this time it's Jake.

His eyes widen at the sight infront of him "So, this is what my beautiful mates do when I'm out?" he says placing his hand over his heart faking being offended.

Neytiri growled out of frustration turning her gaze to her other mate "Nga, Tstu nefä, heyn nekll ulte pekfk!" She hissed at him before turning to you "Sì nga, palmks tsenga nga ftär stt!"

"Srane ha'na" Jake grinned sitting back against the side of the kelku facing his mates. Chuckling you licked a stripe up her folds as two of your fingers prodded against her entrance.

Jake removed his tewng letting his hardened cock spring free already oozing pre-cum, he groaned as he began to slowly pump himself never straying his gaze from his beautiful mates.

Without warning you thrusted two of your fingers into your mate, her velvety walls instantly clenching around them.

Neytiri’s back arched slightly as her hands held onto the sides of the hammock, her eyes locked with Jake’s.

You continued your assault on your mates pussy altering between sucking on her clit and delving your tongue between her folds all while increasing the pace of your fingers angling them to hit her sweet spot each time.

Jakes ears flattened against his skull as small whimpers fell from his lips increasing his own pace pumping his cock faster.

The coil in Neytiri’s stomach snapped when you reached up with your free hand to her breast rolling her hardened nipple between your fingers.

Her legs shook and a silent scream left her lips as she came coating your fingers in her release, you helped her ride out her orgasm before slowly removing your fingers and shifting to sit on your knees.

Turning your head to look at your other mate you saw he was close to finishing, smirking you brought your fingers still coated with Neytiri’s release to your mouth sucking them clean.

Jake hissed as he came, thick spurts of his seed spilling onto his hand and thighs. Both him and Neytiri breathed heavily trying to catch their breaths.

You carefully got off the hammock walking towards a small bowl with water in the corner, picking it up you walked back to your exhausted mate lifting the water to her lips so she could drink something.

Jake reached for a cloth cleaning himself up before slowly getting up and walking towards his mates, you got a small cloth aswell dabbing it in the water when she was done to gently clean her up.

When you were finished Jake carefully moved into the hammock beside Neytiri before reaching over pulling you so your on the other side of him.

“You two are insatiable” he chuckled softly kissing both of your heads.

#neteyamssyulang #james cameron avatar #avatar 2009 #jake x neytiri x reader #neytiri x human reader #jake smut #neytiri smut #comments really appreciated #please like and reblog #followmypage #avatar the way of water

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chemicallady · 7 months

Note

Heyyy, would you possibly be able to do a Noah Sebastian story that is like a brothers best friend dynamic? I live eat and breathe this stuff lol

I WANNA FEEL LOVE AGAIN

Couple: Noah Sebastian x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: slight mention of sexual intercorse. Nothing too deep, I'm saving it for next Chapters

Summary: you're a real mess, your life is turning into a living hell, so your brother Matt convinces you to move in with him in LA and start working for the band he's taking care of

A/N: I dont wanna spoil to much in here, because... Well, you' ll see. English is not my native language and no one peer review this ff. It's gonna be a world of fun, I already know it!

Important! I don't know Noah or Matt or any of the real people portrayed un this story. This is fictional!

Enjoy then 😏

Ouch, I've lost myself again

You've always been around, unseen. Having a brother like Matt could be a blessing and a nightmare in equal parts. You were feeded with stories about gigs and musicians while grow up with your older brother, who is dear to you in a way that actually you cant explain. Matt as always been your twin flame even if you are younger than him. You grew up looking at him with a lot of respect and it broke your heart when he left Texas, moving to California. At the time you werent ready for the big change and your brother's friend were still a bit mysterious to you.

You were used to spend as much time as possible in his company, but with this fresh start for him, you just fell into the ordinary. Nothing against your life, by the way; your parents always supporting, best friends ready to drive you to the closer pub and deliver the best night possible, a lovely boyfriend who adored you in any meaning.

You loved the shit out of Shawn. He was your person, the one always there when you were in need. Your high school sweetheart. Maybe he wasnt your first kiss or your first fuck but he was the one who made you feel like it was worthy, living for someone else. The one who pushed you to improve yourself for your own sake, that helped you in finding a job for the local tattoo shop as a piercer when the school was over.

You did everything in your power to be the best girlfriend possible. You decoreted your shared flat in the warmest way possible. You turned down a good scholarship for that college in Montana, pissing your parents and brother for this lost opportunity. You gave up to your dream to be a writer because he had to stay in Texas and take care of his mom. You helped him through the loss, when she die.

But it wasn't enough.

You loved the shit out of Shawn and he loved you in return, but it wasn't enough.

Your relationship suffered a slow, agonizing death with multiple attempt of reanimation. Vacations togheter, a bigger flat, a cat.

Nothing compensate the distance between the two of you and he was the one brave enough to call it for a quit. You knew was gonna happen but it didn't hurt you less. Moving back to your parents, while quitting your job just to avoid to meet him everyday, took you to the bottom. Then the shutdown decided to kick you while you were already down, spending days in bed just listen music or watching anime whitout any chance to go out with your friends or for just a walk.

Everyone was really worried about you. You lose weight and that energy that always marked you.

And you stayed there, drowing in your own misery until Matt decided that enough was enough.

《 Pack your shit, you're moving in with me to LA. You're done making mom and pops that upset.》

The end of fall 2021 signed your rebirth. Matt found a bigger apartment for the two of you and Lucifurr, your vicious black cat which has an obsession in chewing cables and destroy everything paper made. You have always want to leave nearby the ocean and Malibu had a ton of opportunities to offer you. You started a yoga class the same week you moved, in order to make some new friends. Accoding to Matt, there are a lot of things to do around the band he is working with, Bad Omens.

You offer yourself as a merchgirl, but since you're a good writer an even better in tolerate people bullshit (you have to be karmatic, all the teens who came to get a piercing to the shop have always made a scene in front of needles), you could be perfect as a PR/assistant for the band. You remember them barely because someway somehow, these are the guys who steal all the time Matt has. Time that you never get.

You remember this four guys with long hair, basic metalheads, except for the drummer. You remember when you gave him the nostril after a show in 2015, maybe 16, and he took it like a champ whitout complaining. You remember the singer, this slenderman type of guy with beautiful long hair that looks like silk. You've never felt more envy of someone else hair like that. And also the other three guys were nice, especially Vincent. The only one who you can connect to a familiar face because you two got a nice conversation on tattoos when you visited Matt, three years ago.

They are nice.

You've heard stories about them at every phone call.

But still, thieves of precious moments that you want have again in your life again between you and your brother.

All the missing birthday, all the call postponed due to technical issues. He wasn't there to pick up your pieces when Shawn get a rid of you.

And Matt wasn't supposed to, but being selfish, you wish he was there.

But he is now and this is enough to bring the light back to your life. The long talks after dinner, movie nights, everything is back to the normal between you two since you moved and it's restoring.

With this wave of good mood, even if you havent forgotten Shawn yet, you enroll to gym, so you can work out after yoga.

And is in this specific place that you meet Eric.

The first time you caught him lurking at you you were running on the thremill.

There is something familiar in him but still, you dont know anyone in LA. You were the one who actually landed the first conctact with this new alien subject, so introvert to avoid your eyes.

《 Today is hot as hell, right?》

Talking about the weather is the easiest card to play. He smiled a bit shily to you before answering. 《 Don't tell me, I hate how hot is in here. Are you new? I've never seen you around》

《 I just moved in with my brother, actually. 》

《 You're a southie for sure. I like your accent.》

You giggle at his words, while he gets some confidence, passing a hand through this short hair. 《 you got me. You don't sound californian as well》.

《 Maybe because I'm not》. There was a moment in which he seemed to be doubtful, like he changed his mind and he didn't want actually to talk with you. He looked at you with a weird expression, like he realised something was off. 《 What's your name?》, he asked then, almost suspicious.

And then you lied. You rarely give your real name to strangers. A self defence mechanism for girls. 《 Vanessa. You?》

He looked more relaxed, 《 Eric.》

《 Nice to meet you Eric... Do you know a nice bar around? 》

《 Maybe I know a place 》 he reflected, smiling a bit malicious. He was definitely flirting. 《 Can offer you a beer or something? Just to welcome you in town.》

You are not ready for a new story yet, but after almost a year after you broke up with Shawn, you needed at least some human conctact. Eric was nice with you since the beginning. He invited you to this dive bar after the gym a couple of times, not far from your place. He paid for you a couple of cocktails while having a real nice Conversation. A superficial one, about the tattoos that covered him. About living in LA. You mentioned your brother a couple of times and he talked about his roomates and all the crazy things they have done during the pandemic.

He told you he is a Producer and you told him you're still unemployed.

One way or another, he got closer to you in a matter of days. And when he kissed you, you obliged and kiss him back. One thing leaded to another and the two of you ended fucking in the back of his SUV. And oh boy... you needed it so much. It was a quickie, but he seemed to be promising. His long fingers stimulated you untill you cried out for pleasure. His mounth divoured you inch by inch. And his cock....

He knew how to use it, let's say that.

After, he gave you his number and the two of you planned to see each other by the end of the week, at the gym, after your yoga class and his class of jujitsu....

The morning after you're fresh and relaxed like you weren't in months. Matt tends to be overprotective so you didn't told him about Eric while you were having breakfast. You need to know this guys deeply before accept that you know have a situationship. And your brother doesn't need to know about you screacting you itchies.

He has a hot temper when someone looks at his dear little sis.

After breakfast you got ready to meet the band again after almost three years.

《 I can't believe Vincent quitted. He was the nicest.》

Matt sighs while driving to the guys' house, mentally focused on the traffic. 《 youll see him when we'll be in Virginia, don't worry. 》

Your eyes slip on streets and houses, wards and parks but you still feel like You're in a new country. You don't know how much it will take to get used to California.

《 here we are》 , Matt says, parking. 《 let's refresh the rules.》

《 Oh c'mon, I'm not twelve anymore》

《 y/n 》

《 alright! I don't have to embarrass you while you're free to be mean on me. I don't have to embarrass myself talking shit just because I'm nervous and if the music sucks, I can't tell your precious Noah.》

《 You can do better but, more or less, that's it. Lets go. I need another coffe and maybe something sweet before start to film the music video. 》

It's so weird filming inside a house and not in a proper set but all this low budget bullshit are quite the normal for small bands, you think.

You have to be their assistant and eventually a PR- so Matt can stop to bitching on twitter all the time- and you know nothing about bands.

According to Matt, you're going to learn quick.

According to Matt. You know that he picked you up for the job so he can force you to write what he wants.

And continuing to bitch around through you.

The guitar player greets you at the door and introduces himself again as Jolly. The rest of the guys minus Noah are in the garage. It's marvelous how Orie, one of the guys who lives here, a director, reorganize the space with tubes and flashlight.

《 What's the name of the song, again? 》 you ask to Nick Folio, whos already youre favorite.

《 Artifical Suicide》 it's the answer, while he takes his place back behind the drums.

《So emo》 it's your honest observation that makes him laught. Matt looks at you in a way that if he could, you would be incinerated where you're standing. You're already embarrassing him.

Nice.

You regret nothing.

It's a lil sister job to make her brother in troubles, that's what pops always says.

Mike brings you a coffe that you accept with a smile, than tells everyone the news about the singer that is still not here.

A diva, of course. That's your first thought. Every singer is a natural diva.

《 He is still looking for the glove.》

《 He would lost his head if it wasn't attacked to his neck》 , a solid comment arrives from Ruffilo, immediatly followed by an annoyed reply from behind you.

《 I can ear you motherfucker. You are- what the fuck?》

You turn in time to face the famous singer and almost choke with the coffe.

《 Yo Noah, do you remember my sister, y/n?》

You see Noah turning pale for a second while trying to say something in return.

You're also speechless for a second, before putting your shit togheter so Matt wont finds out in the first five minutes. 《 Howdy! You... you cut your hair. Nice. I didn't know》

You didn't.

That's why was so easy for Noah to be Eric for almost a week. For a hook up with you. His best friend sister.

....Splendid.

You're fucked.

#noah sebastian #bad omens #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian imagine #bad omens imagine

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sweet-s0rr0w · 9 months

Text

Microfic: I Must Be Lonely

A late birthday microfic, written for the wonderful @getawayfox (look, it balances out @wolfpants' gift which was a couple of weeks early, alright? That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.) Happy happy birthday to fandom's loveliest quadruple threat (writer, artist, reccer, beta/cheerreader). I hope you had a brilliant day! <3

T, 1.8k, no warnings. @drarrymicrofic prompt Simple. Thanks to @tackytigerfic for Irish picking and usual brilliance. This one is also for everyone else who hates night shifts!

Another night shift at the Ministry security desk. If boredom doesn’t get you, the vampires probably will, Draco thinks, sourly. That’s at least half exaggeration, though: Sanguini and his colleagues are always impeccably behaved, hurrying between meetings with barely a glint of incisor on show. But the boredom: now that part’s no joke. Nothing much happens in the Ministry after hours – by midnight, even the most dedicated workaholics have reluctantly ducked into the Floo, leaving Draco to his books, or his fantasy Quidditch, or (briefly and unsuccessfully) his crochet. Sometimes he gets lucky – a disaster necessitating the presence of the on-call Mishaps and Maladies team at the Ministry, perhaps, or an international visitor who’s messed up the time difference – but for the most part it’s lonely work.

Every night, Draco watches as two of the house elves work their slow, methodical way across the Atrium floor from either end, mopping and polishing and casting anti-slip charms until they meet just in front of his desk, some time around five o’clock. Things always get better after that, with the sun rising in the charmed windows and the slow downhill slide until six-thirty, that blessed hour when Draco mumbles his greetings to the day staff, pulling the hood of his robes up to cover his tired eyes, and slopes off towards the Floos.

Midnight until five, then, that’s the difficult time. That’s the hungry but nauseous time, the clammy but shivery time, the grumpy, gloomy, desperately weary time. Helpfully, it’s often the time the morons from the DMLE show up, high on adrenaline and testosterone and god knows what department-approved stimulants, and often, inexplicably, looking to chat utter rubbish.

“Hey! Everyone, look, it’s Malfoy!” bellows Finnigan, his voice rattling through Draco’s skull after three hours of total silence. He marches up to Draco’s desk, at the head of a group of what might appear, at first glance, to be drunken teenagers, but which Draco knows is actually made up of fairly senior Aurors. “How’re things, Malfoy? Ministry treating you well, I hope?”

Draco straightens his robes, shoving his folded up copy of the Prophet out of sight.

“It’s been a good day, Malfoy,” Finnigan continues, clearly not interested in waiting for Draco’s response. “A bloody good day, you know?” His grin is wide and toothy as he thumps his clenched fist against his chest and flings his head back. “Another victory in the fight for truth and justice, and all that’s―”

“Alright, Seamus,” says a voice from the back of the crowd. “Leave him alone, yeah?”

“Hey! Harry! Here’s the hero of the hour! C’mere.” Finnigan tucks a firm arm around Potter’s neck, pulling him forwards, until he’s shoved up against the front of the reception desk, smiling apologetically. “See,” says Finnigan, and his pupils are barely visible when he leans closer, “another bunch of Muggle-hating scumbags behind bars, and it’s all thanks to Hazza here. Good triumphs over evil again, and the world—”

“—hang on Seamus, isn’t that stuff classified?” cuts in Longbottom – who, as far as Draco can tell, is still every bit as much fun as he’d been at school.

“Oh, give over, Neville,” Finnigan spits, mercifully turning away from Draco, “I didn’t say who it was, did I? Classified would be if I’d said oi, Malfoy, d’you know they’re running a Muggle fighting ring out the back of the Reaper’s Arms—?” There’s a collective groan. “What?”

“You’re such a twat, Seamus,” says a short-haired witch next to Neville, folding her arms.

“Oh, I’m a twat, am I?”

“Yeah. You are.”

Then someone else starts up, voices crowding over each other in an unbearable racket. Draco rests back in his chair, closing his eyes, his tired mind picturing the little yapping Crups that Mother’s friend Verity used to bring over; the ones Mother pretended to coo over even while they left puddles of piss on the Persian carpet.

A shadow falls across his desk: it’s Potter, leaning forwards, blocking out the harsh glare of Lumos off the wall tiles. When Draco blinks and looks up, he finds that Potter’s shivering a little, his hair damp and stuck to his forehead. “Sorry about that lot,” he says, softly. “You know how they can get.”

“It’s fine,” Draco says, tightly. “Nice work on the, er, Muggle fighting stuff. Sounds pretty impressive.”

“Oh, cheers,” says Potter, with a shrug. “Just doing my job, you know how it is.”

Draco looks down at his desk: the bonsai yew that reminds him of home, his stupid cheap silver-plated letter-opener-cum-emergency-vampire-repellent, the battered copy of Birdsong he’s been slogging through for two months straight. “Not really,” he replies, shrugging.

“Ah, you’re not missing much. Five minutes of excitement, tops; I’d take a good Seeker’s game over that any day. But, you know—” he glances back over his shoulder, “—truth, and freedom, and all that rousing stuff from the superhero films Seamus watches. How’s your shift going, anyway?”

“Not bad,” Draco says, sitting up taller, sliding the Prophet back into view. “By the way, who’ve you got down for third Chaser? I’m stuck between Lyons and Campos.”

“You should go with Beni, definitely. Ollie’s been raving about his form all summer.” Potter leans over even further into Draco’s space, pushing his glasses back up his nose as he squints down at the page. “You got Chang down for Keeper?”

“McFarlane.”

“McFarlane?” Potter laughs, incredulously. “Seriously? Bloody Magpies fans. Completely deluded, the lot of you.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “Well, Potter, I guess we’ll see.”

There’s a scuffle in the background, followed by cheers. “Coming, Harry?” Finnigan calls, wiping blood from his lip. “Hey, Malfoy, we’re heading out after this. It’s House night at XPulso; they’ve got three for ones on Rusty Nails, and we’re going to get Harry here laid.”

Harry stiffens, his eyes widening. “Er—”

“Yeah, I’ve got your back, mate. Maybe we can sort Neville out too, if anyone’ll have him.”

“I’m married, you knob!”

“You should really come along, Malfoy. It’ll be a laugh.”

Potter, still with his back to Finnigan, makes a faint choking sound.

“Sadly, Finnigan,” says Draco, trying to avoid Potter’s eyes, “I’m afraid I’m stuck at this desk for the foreseeable. But you lot have a great time. It sounds… memorable.”

Finnigan just shrugs. “Ah, your loss. C’mon then, boys.”

“Boys?”

“It’s just an expression, Davis, what d’you—”

They’re off, finally, all backslaps and hooting laughter, and no-one’s looking at Draco anymore, which is a small mercy. Potter reaches down to steal a crisp from the unopened packet at the back of the desk. “Anyway,” he says, mouth full, breath salt-and-vinegar scented, “’s been good to see you, Dra – Malfoy.”

“Yeah,” says Draco, glumly, and he hates himself for envying them all. “You too.”

***

Draco tries not to think about Potter, he really does. It’s hard, though, not to wonder what he’s doing – who he’s dancing with, where he’s sleeping – when all you’ve got for the night’s entertainment is Miffy and Jinks, a dodgy alarm on Level Five, and yesterday’s Prophet. He dithers for a while over his Fantasy Quidditch choices, trying to pretend he doesn’t care what Potter thinks, then Diffindos the completed page carefully out of the newspaper and tucks it into his pocket. Both house elves make it across the floor without incident. Through the window behind his desk, Draco watches the sun begin to rise over Salisbury Plain, as slowly, grudgingly, night gives way to day.

“You off?”

It’s his replacement; showered and shaven and far too bright. Draco nods grimly at him.

“Anything to report?”

“Nothing.” He gets to his feet, rolling his shoulders and renewing the Protego on his tree, grateful, as always, for the speed and convenience of the Floo. Five minutes from desk to bed, via blackout charms and a good Silencio; that’s the way to do it.

Something’s off today, though – Draco can tell, as soon as he lands, drained and unsteady, on his hearth. The heating’s already on, for one – he can’t see his breath in the air, which is a welcome change – and hang on… is that the smell of bacon? His nausea evaporates, instantly, as he follows his nose, half in a dream, only to find—

“Morning.”

Potter’s standing by the hob, grinning, and the flat’s a little more smoky than usual, but there’s eggs frying, and sausages on the grill, and just then the toast pops up and, well, Draco could just about kiss him right now.

So he does.

“Oh my god,” he says, when Potter pulls away, popping a crispy bit of bacon into Draco’s mouth instead.

“Good?”

“Oh my god,” Draco says again, salt flooding his mouth. “But what – what are you doing here?”

“Well, I was up all night too. You’re sleeping today, I’m sleeping today – I thought, well, this way at least we get to sleep together properly for once. And I know how hungry you get after night shifts. Here.”

Dizzy with tiredness, or the cooking fumes, or possibly something else entirely, Draco takes the ketchup over to the table, then slumps down hard into a chair. Potter brings over the plates, pulls his own chair in close.

They eat in comfortable silence, and it’s only once Draco’s blissfully full of sausages and buttered toast and beautifully seasoned egg, that he finally works up the courage to speak. “So Seamus’ efforts failed, I take it?” he says, lightly.

Potter snorts. “Shut up,” he mumbles, through a mouthful of beans. “Seamus passed out after the second round of shots. The rest of my night was spent escorting him back to his cousin's house on the Knight Bus. Why,” he says, grinning, “were you actually worried?

“Of course not,” Draco replies, too quickly, then sips his orange juice to try and disguise the lie.

“That’s good. Because I want to tell them, Draco.”

Draco freezes, glass in hand.

“No, I mean it,” Potter says, dropping his knife to take hold of Draco’s forearm. The Mark aches like a bruise, but beneath Potter’s fingers, the pain’s almost sweet. “Look, you know what those shifts are like; you know how they make you feel. The raid, and then getting everything wrapped up, and then seeing you at that bloody desk – the last thing I wanted was other people’s hands on me, Draco. All I could think about was how sick I am of acting the part, of pretending I’m interested, when what I’m really interested in is…” He gestures at the room, at their plates, then, finally, at Draco. “This. You.”

“I—” Draco begins, and if his voice is a bit wobbly, well, he can blame that on the tiredness, can’t he? Beside him, Potter's resumed blithely eating his bacon, eyes heavy-lidded, as though nothing he’s said was at all out of the ordinary. Draco swallows. “They’ll say you’ve lost your mind,” he says, pressing his socked foot against the knob of Potter’s ankle.

Potter nudges him back. “Well, maybe I have. Working nights will do that, after all.”

#drarry #ss writes #happy birthday el!#god i am shit with deadlines #forgive me please

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softcitrus2345 · 8 months

Text

Full Tank

This is a little written piece I made after a series of doodles from a while back that I ended up liking. A lot XD I sprinkled in the doodles that inspired this written piece into the post as well for double the fun >;3c I'm NOT an experienced writer by any means and this was mostly for fun so I could explore my own characters, but ye, I figured I might as well share it here with yall TTwTT This piece includes themes of funnel feeding, stuffing, male weight gain, some squish stuff and a light dash of spice near the end And of course, a big ass scoop of FLUFF >:Dc

This little blurb features Vanessa (she/her) and Damien (he/him), my two (favorite) lovebugs TTwTT

Hope yall like it! :3

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vanessa stirred in bed, her arms reaching out for the plush warmth that she expected to be there, only to be met with empty bedsheets

Her eyes fluttered open and sure enough, there was a sizeable indent in the bed where her partner should have been..

The clock on the bedside table marked 1:26 am <<Where could he have gone off to at this time of night??>> She thought, but the little voice in the back of her mind already knew the answer…

She felt around the nightstand before locating her glasses, which she hastily put on as she walked out of the bedroom

Tiptoeing down the long and elaborate flight of stairs, the vampire made her way toward the kitchen. Though she was still getting used to living in a mansion, she knew all too well where this room was..

As she approached the dining room, she could hear noises coming from somewhere in the kitchen. <<Found you>> She grinned, her movements slow and calculated so as not to alert the lycanthrope. The faint glow of the open fridge illuminated a small portion of the otherwise dark kitchen, painting a perfect picture of what events had occurred while she wasn't there

Several empty containers of food were strewn about the kitchen counter, picked clean and discarded while the perpetrator focused on his next course, his tall, plump frame hunched over, while his head and hands were stuck in the fridge, busy devouring whatever he could get his hands on

The back of his shirt had just begun to ride up, exposing a small sliver of pale flesh

Vanessa could hardly contain her excitement as the gap between her and her gluttonous partner grew shorter and shorter

"Hey handsome~" she purred, hugging Damien from the back, squeezing the bottom of his belly, nearly melting as she felt the warm softness between her fingers

Damien's whole body jumped, his head shooting up and slamming into the top of the fridge interior before turning around, groaning softly as he rubbed his head with his clean hand

"V-Vanessa-!!" He squeaked, his crumb-covered face red as a beet, pale skin further emphasizing the embarrassment blooming on his cheeks

"I was j-jus- uhmm.." he backed away from the fridge a bit, straightening up to his full height and wiping the evidence off his flushed face

"Hey, it's okay, you were just hungry... You know I'd never discourage you from getting something to eat~" She chuckled, watching her boyfriend's sheepish expression as he towered over her like an oversized kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar

She snuck several glances at his midsection, her own face growing warmer

An idea blossomed in her mind, making the corners of her mouth curl into a cheeky grin

"Here, I'll help you," she said, grabbing Damien by the hand before he could protest and bringing him into the dining room, where she sat him in one of the wooden chairs that she pulled from the table

The chair made a distinctive creak as he sat down, causing the pair to blush once more

"What're you-" "Shhhh, you'll love it, I promise" she interrupted his questioning, pressing a finger to his lips

"I'll be back in a bit, all you have to do is sit there and look pretty, 'kay?" She smiled, planting a small peck on his round cheek before hopping off to the kitchen again

In the kitchen, Vanessa opened the fridge to find Damien's most recent "snack", a large chocolate cake she had been saving for the next day. No matter, it surely won't go to waste..

She picked up the cake and set it on the counter, smiling as she saw the small portion that he had ripped out of the cake with his greedy hands

Then opening the freezer, she grabbed several quarts of vanilla ice cream and set them near the cake

As Damien sat in his chair, awaiting whatever surprise Vanessa was preparing for him, he heard the whirring of the blender, which seemed to go on for quite a while, before stopping and continuing the same routine a couple more times

Damien felt his stomach growl again, demanding more, despite having consumed quite a bit already

"Hhhokay.. calm down, you can wait a few more minutes.." he said to himself, noticing his heartbeat increasing in frequency as the minutes ticked by

"Alriiiight, it's ready!" She called in a sing-songy voice from the kitchen "Close your eyes for me, and no peeking, or you won't get any-"

Of course, he knew she didn't really mean that, but Damien played along, keeping his eyes closed as he opened his mouth, awaiting whatever she had conjured up for him

He was caught off guard by the cylindrical form that entered his maw, which Vanessa had pushed further back into his mouth before he realized what it was, making a small noise between a whimper and a gasp before staying seated, the chair creaking a bit more as he squirmed, flustered out of his mind

Almost immediately after the tube was positioned in his mouth, his taste buds were bombarded with a cold, rich, chocolatey liquid

Several more flustered huffs came from him as he began to hastily drink down the substance in thick gulps

"I wanted to try something new tonight, I've been saving this little tool for a.. special occasion~" Vanessa purred, her eyes focused on her partner while she kept her hands steady, pouring the cake shake into the funnel with relative ease, despite the sizeable pitcher she carried being nearly full of dense liquid

Damien couldn't respond, he could only focus on drinking every last drop of the shake, so he wouldn't make a mess of course~

As he continued to drink, he felt his shirt become tighter and begin to ride up, his growing belly pushing against the fabric while gradually occupying more space in his lap

"Hmmnh, ghmmmg…. ghlpg- ghhhhhn?" Damien whined as the flow of the shake trickled to a stop

"Oh don't you worry lovely, there's still plenty more where that came from.." Vanessa responded, picking up a second pitcher and tipping it into the funnel once more

"Hmmmmmmmmhhhhh.." Damien hummed in satisfaction as his cheeks flushed pink once more as he continued his routine of gulping down more, and more, and more

His hands slowly traveled their way up his lap and on top of his belly, lightly pressing on its cushioned surface, as he expanded more by the second

Vanessa knew him too well, she was much better at initiating these sorts of activities, where he could indulge in his own, less conventional desires, and he adored her for it

At the end of the second pitcher, he could already feel his stomach churning, trying its best to keep up with the sudden surge of calories, growling and groaning loudly while Damien panted, the tube still in his mouth

That should have been enough, but something in him wanted more

Luckily he wasn't quite finished with his task, as Vanessa picked up the final pitcher she had prepared

Damien's eyes fluttered open, panting and staring above him at his partner, his eyes almost desperate as she grinned at her greedy boyfriend They both exchanged a look, blushing as Vanessa lifted up the last of the sweet liquid

"Almost done, this is all that's left, so you might wanna savor-" she cut herself off, pouring in the last pitcher without warning, flooding his mouth once again with the sweet sludge

Damien spluttered for a second, some of the shake dribbling down his mouth and onto his shirt, before getting a hang of it, taking fast, heavy gulps to keep up with the pace while Vanessa poured, giggling as she watched her partner's efforts to keep up

He closed his eyes once more as he felt himself become fuller and fuller, rubbing his hands in soothing circles over his now-exposed belly, feeling it grow bigger with each passing moment

Vanessa held her breath as she watched the last of the precious fattening shake flow down the funnel and into her blimping boyfriend

When it was all finished, she pulled the tube out, Damien in a daze as it left his mouth, before letting out a loud belch and a small groan, still rubbing his belly in a food-drunk state

There was so much of it in him that she could hear the faint sloshing of the shake in his gut as it bubbled and churned the thousands of calories worth of shake into more wonderful softness

The vampire cooed, completely enamored and glad to finally be able to massage his engorged belly, planting several kisses on it before working her way up to his face

"You did so well hon, you finished every single drop, I bet this feels nice hm?" She smiled ear to ear, watching her partner blush, a completely flustered mess

Vanessa leaned on his belly and brought herself close to his face, the shift in weight causing another belch to come out before Damien quickly closed his mouth, face reddening

Vanessa chuffed at his reaction, leaning in further as she kissed and licked the excess shake off of his soft face and neck

She reveled in his response, his small flustered noises making her heart flutter

"Th- * hff * thank you.." he panted, leaning in for a longer kiss, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her further into his belly. Vanessa squeaked, melting into his embrace, hearing his gut's protests to this new disturbance

Once their lips parted, Vanessa locked eyes with Damien before grabbing him by both pudgy hands and attempting to pull him into a standing position

He obeyed, though it took a second to adjust to the sloshing weight inside him, feeling like an oversized water balloon

He continued holding Vanessa's hand as she began to gently guide him out of the kitchen, leaving the cleanup for tomorrow

"V-VanesshuoOorp– Where * huff * are we g-* hic! * going..?"

"To bed, silly~! Can't really snuggle ya if you're sitting on a hard chair, now, can I~?"

"I brrrUp- guess no-ot.."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Though it took them a while to get all the way up the steps, Vanessa remained patient, giving loving words of encouragement as Damien clung to her, using his other hand to keep his belly from sloshing around too much while he walked

It was such an amazing relief when he planted himself back on the cushioned bed, his whole body sinking further into the edge where he sat, huffing and puffing

His belly was so heavy that he had to lean on his hands behind him on the bed to maintain his balance, the large mound moving up and down with each breath

The fabric of his shirt strained to contain the little bit of his belly that still remained covered, along with his plush moobs

Vanessa blushed, reaching behind her partner "This looks so tight, let me help you with that" She gingerly pulled the fabric of the shirt up, finally releasing his behemoth belly and allowing him to breathe a bit easier

Damien let out a chuffed sigh of relief as the burden was removed from him, his belly pushing out further in his lap as he relaxed

"I * hff * really needed * huff * that, thanks 'Nessa.." he sighed

"My pleasure, cutie" she hummed, giving him a peck on the forehead and ruffling his soft, white hair affectionately

There was a moment of silence as both retained eye contact before the albino spoke

"Yknow… I'm still feeling pretty hungry…" he said, a flirtatious tone in his voice as he patted his overstuffed gut with one hand, keeping the other on the mattress for balance

"O-oh??" Vanessa sputtered, her eyes widening

"* bHUurp- * Yeah… and I've got the * huff * perfect l-little morsel right * puff * hhere in front of me~" he slurred, grabbing Vanessa by the arms surprisingly fast for how full and dazed he seemed a moment ago, swinging them around and pinning her to the bed underneath his heavy gut

The vampire barely had a moment to react as she froze, her heart going at a mile a minute, processing what he had just said, and the position she was now in…

Though he held himself up firmly above her, his large belly hung low enough to still weigh her down a considerable amount

She just stared into his eyes as he smiled down at her, a very rare smug look on his rounded face

"Gotta return the * hfff- * f-favor~"

Vanessa gasped as she completely melted at his touch while his warm lips began planting sloppy kisses all over her cheeks and neck

Vanessa shuddered in delight, feeling his warm breath on her skin

Suddenly she began feeling small gentle pinches on her neck and shoulders, before realizing he had been incorporating a few little love bites in between kisses…

God, he knew just how to make her melt

She just lay there, her hands sinking into the plush flesh of his chest, feeling as if she was being enveloped in a pleasantly heavy and warm pillow

"Woah… I hadn't realized how h-eavy you'd gotten, honey-" she breathed, her face redder than she thought possible

Damien momentarily paused, looking down at his partner in concern "O-oh? Is it too much? I-I'm not * hff * hurting you am I??"

"Oh no! No, no, it feels… r-really * hff * good, actually… it's perfect~"

"Oh, that's a * hff * r-relief, cause I'm having * huff * waaay too much fun makin' ya * brup- * blush~"

The bed creaked again as Damien shifted his weight, moving an arm up to support himself as he leaned down to kiss his love's forehead

* WHUMP *

Vanessa yelped as her body was enveloped by warm, soft flesh within seconds

Damien belched loudly as all of his weight fell onto his bloated belly… and onto his partner beneath him..

His pointy ear twitched as he heard a small, slightly muffled noise of pleasure coming from beneath his mountainous body before he felt several gentle squeezes to his love handles

Damien felt his face grow hot

There was a moment of stunned silence before he snapped out of it and peeled himself off of his lover, panting

The werewolf gave a flustered, nervous laugh, seeing the vampire's bright red face and wide eyes, her body unmoving as she caught her breath

"Y-you ok down there~?" He asked, stifling a giggle

"That… was amazing…." she sighed, reaching up to hold her face in her hands

"P-please keep going.." she pleaded "Your kisses felt nice…"

Damien melted, immediately giving into her request as he continued his affectionate display, still a bit clumsily as he worked through his food-drunk state

"You're probably.. * hff * the sweetest thing I've * hic! * ever tasted, love~" he cooed between another small bite "I might just get addicted~" he gave a low mischievous laugh as Vanessa made more flustered sounds and giggles

It was rare for Vanessa to be the one to end up so flustered she was speechless...

Damien sighed before leaning in to give her a soft kiss on the lips and carefully slumping onto the bed beside her, his belly sloshing from all the shake still inside it, a small burp coming out from the sudden movement

"I love you like this…" Vanessa finally spoke, her comment making Damien blush heavily, his round cheeks accentuated by the smile that spread across his face

"…Me too.."

The two shuffled closer to one another in bed, unspeaking as they embraced, bodies turned towards each other

The werewolf gently pulled his love into his soft body, humming in delight as he felt two small, cold hands graze his belly, rubbing in gentle circles, small gurgles and groans coming from the full belly of the lycanthrope

The pair lay there in comforting silence, the sound of each other's gentle breathing and low gurgles lulling them both into a warm, dreamless sleep

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Hai :3 ABFUIJDSKGS

That's it XD Hope yall liked it, just don't expect much written stuff from me in the future, I'm much better at storytelling through a visual format than I am with written stuff, but I had fun writing this nonetheless!! Hope this blurb makes yall as feral for these two as I am BHFDSIJKGDSB

#we've got sugar spice and everything nice in this bitch #softcitrus damien #softcitrus vanessa #softcitrus writing #softcitrus art #weight gain #stuffing #funnel feeding #bhm #m/f romance #wg fluff #wg encouragement #weight gain writing #weight gain art

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lowkeyrobin · 1 month

Note

hello! i was wondering if you could write a one shot for finn wolfhard? maybe like a date night or something but take your own route!

oooo fuck yeah of course!! ; I hate writing standard dinner dates (esp bc I've never been on a date before but we ain't gonna talk about that) so I hope you enjoy this! ; thanks for requesting :) ; also I'm so sorry this is so short, writers block kicked my ass on this :(

FINN WOLFHARD ; city boy

summary ; a little date in the city with Finn

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; I don't know shit about living in a city lol

word count ; 551

masterlist

"Jay-Z or Fleetwood Mac?" You ask, hanging Finn an earbud as you scroll through one of your playlists.

"Uh, Jay-Z" He nods, inserting the little device into his ear, making sure as he walked on your left side, that it went in his left ear, pairing with the earbud that you had in your right ear. "Now you're in New York~." He smiles, purposefully singing badly to play with you.

"Shush!" You laugh, taking his hand in yours.

When it came to dates with you two, anything but dinner was up for discussion. You both hated classy dates, you'd rather go do something fun and live your lives while you could.

You were walking down the streets towards one of the many bridges in the city, wanting to walk on one of the lower levels and experience the wind of the cars passing by punching your backs and being able to smell the water below.

The noise of the metal pittering underneath your feet was unintelligible, being defeaned by the whizzing of passing vehicles. The breeze brushes against your faces, pushing your hair back as you look over the railing, arms crossed over the ledge to get a bit of a better position to look down.

The water has a sort of quiet white noise to it, washing and running below the bridge. The tide pushes toward you, the large ripples, almost waves, stagger their way down the surface of the water, carrying the boats and canoes with them.

"This is nice" Finn says quietly, taking a glance at you to see your expression, trying to read you.

You nod in agreement, looking down at the water, feeling cars whizz past you above and behind you.

"You look nice today" He smiles, catching your gaze. "Really makes your eyes pop"

You lightly smile and roll your eyes. "Such a romantic, Finn"

"Yeah, I know"

"You wanna go down there?" You ask, pointing down at one of the boat piers.

He shrugs, "Yeah, sure"

You walk all the way back off the bridge, then make your way down the streets and across the other bridge to get you down to the docks. Near those docks was a huge fountain that you both liked to be misted with water by.

The walk down is calm and peaceful, hands tied with Blue Foundation playing in your earbuds. The breeze sends chills down your spine, causing him to feel the quick here-and-gone tenseness within the grip of your hand. His curls reveal his face as the wind pushes them back, nearly taking his jacket with it before he zipped it up.

The sun produces enough heat for a moment of warmth before it's back to chills, clouds filling the sky and hiding the firey ball of flame periodically. He pulls you a little closer, seeking your body warmth, considering you'd been wrapped up in jeans, a long sleeved shirt, and a heavy hoodie.

You look over at him, an eyebrow raised at his actions, your pace slowing down a bit for him.

"I'm cold, shut up." He smiles, resting his arm around your waist, your shoulders brushing every few steps. "You're warm"

"I'm hot, actually"

"Yeah, yeah. You are hot." He giggles, placing a light kiss on your temple.

"Mhm, say it again"

"You're hot"

#lowkeyrobin #finn wolfhard x reader #finn wolfhard #gender neutral reader #gn reader #they/them reader #gn! reader #actor x reader

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year

Text

thistle, part one

a/n: I'm posting the next part in a few days, so you won't have to wait too long to find out what happens next ♡

summary: “A title that’s been true since the moment I was born, but there are also a few others that are just as real. I am a son, I am a brother, I am a soldier. I am still the exact same person you spoke to only yesterday. I haven’t changed one bit, so please don’t act like I have. Please, at least call me James.”

warnings: James Potter x reader, royal au, prince!James, servant!reader (lady's maid), forbidden romance, secret relationship, historical au (beginning of the 1920s), references to WW1, surely extremely historically inaccurate but this is just for fun, lovesick!James, weapons, grief, death, smut, kissing, attending a ball, dancing, pussyjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie, cockwarming, oral

word count: 6148

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

series masterlist - next part

Marching up to the bespectacled man exiting the stables, his clothes all ruffled and dirtied from the ride he’d presumably just taken on this drizzly day, “excuse me, sir?” he slowed his trek at the sound of your soft voice, turning his head to look at you in surprise, “do you know the way to the servant's entrance? I seem to be a bit lost.”

“Um, yeah,” he blinked a second, taken aback by your question as he gave you a quick once over, “it’s just down that path,” he pointed towards the east side of the castle, “green door, can’t miss it.”

“Thank you,” you nodded, tightening your grip on your suitcase and began to move in that direction.

“Are you new here?” he asked swiftly, halting your movements.

“Kinda,” you said, “I’m the queen mother’s new lady’s maid.”

“Oh,” a genuine smile bloomed on his face, “I didn’t know grand-, I mean, her majesty Delilah was coming for a visit.”

“Well, I’d imagine you as, I presume, a groundskeeper,” you guessed, squinting your eyes at the helpful stranger in front of you, “isn’t exactly first on the list of people who need to be notified of such things.”

Choking out a small chuckle, neither confirming nor denying your guess, he simply glanced down at his muddy boots, “yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Looking back over your shoulder at the large castle looming over you, “I’m sorry, but I should really get going. Her majesty likes to freshen up quite a bit after a long trip such as this.”

“Oh, yeah,” he exhaled, clearly not ready to part ways yet, “you go take care of that, I’ll see you around.”

“See you!” you shouted over your shoulder as you made your way towards the discreet green door.

“That’s pretty,” a smoky voice from out of nowhere made you jump and promptly stop your soft humming, dropping the small bouquet of wildflowers you had picked but a moment ago. Turning to see who else could be out here in the forest, you spotted the helpful figure from the day before, leaning against a tree.

“Jesus! You gave me a fright!” a hand came up to clutch your chest.

“Sorry,” he smiled, shifting the bent hunting rifle that rested over his burly forearm.

“It’s fine, no harm done,” you exhaled slowly, “just need to make my heartbeat understand that as well…”

Watching as you momentarily bent down to pick the dropped flowers off the forest floor, “you out on a walk I presume?” he pushed off the tree and stepped closer.

“Yeah, well,” you rose back up, “the weather finally cleared up, so I thought a bit of fresh air might do me well,” you said, gliding one of your cold hands down into your coat pockets, “plus I’ve heard so much about the grounds here, I wanted to see them for myself.”

“They are quite something, aren’t they?” he smiled warmly down at you.

Feeling heat begin to rise in your cheeks from his unwavering glare, you coughed lightly and glanced down at the humble bouquet clutched in your grasp, “and, um, you’re-”

“Hunting,” he filled in before you could manage to finish your guess.

“Oh, am I getting in your way?” worry filled your voice, imagining that bullets could start flying over your head as soon as a bird flew by, “is it safe for me to be out here? I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware-”

“Nah, you’re good,” he waved a reassuring hand, “I split up from the others a while ago and then when I heard you, I wandered even further away from the rest.”

“You followed me?” he noticed your eyes flicker down towards the weapon he was carrying.

“I-, oh god,” he winced, scrunching his expression up in regret and bowing his head, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I am a stranger to you with a deadly firearm, not a harmless bunny rabbit,” you could literally see the imaginary whip he was punishing himself with, “I’m sorry I scared you, I’ll just go-”

“No!” flew out your lips before you had a chance to think, “It’s fine, you can stay if you want.”

Gazing into your eyes a moment, he then exhaled, “thank you, miss.”

“Y/l/n,” you told him, “my name is Y/n Y/l/n.”

“Y/n,” the corners of his lips curled up as he tasted your name on his tongue.

“And your name?”

“James,” he said, then stressed, “just James.”

James… like the youngest of the two princes? You shouldn’t act too surprised; it was a common enough name after all.

“Can I ask you something?” he spoke as you wordlessly agreed to go for a stroll together among the birch trees.

“Sure.”

“How long have you been the queen mother’s lady’s maid? It’s just, I remember her previous one, the one she had before the war, and I feel like I would have noticed when you came along.”

“It’s been about 6 months now…” you answered rather sombrely.

“You don’t sound pleased about that.”

“No,” you glanced in his direction to underline your statement, “I love the job, don’t get me wrong, it’s just-,” you choked on the bitter fact and opted to say, “it’s complicated.”

“Is it too complicated for a man like me to comprehend?” he offered with a gentle smile.

Letting a low sigh flow out, you spoke, “that previous one you remember?” he nodded in confirmation, “that was my mom.” You tried to ignore how your bottom lip began to quiver, “she had me out of wedlock and later in her life, so not many people knew about me. But her majesty Delilah did. She’d always been very fond of my mother, so she let me grow up there at Cudworth palace. She-,” you let out a shaky breath, still finding it difficult to vocalize, “she became ill a few years back, so her majesty made the decision to let me inherit the position. Made sure I was set up for a good life, I guess… My mother trained me for as long as she could till I was nothing short of flawless. It’s been 6 months… 6 months with the job and 6 months without her…”

“Yes, I think the sapphires will do quite nicely for tonight,” Delilah purred as her weathered fingers brushed over the jewellery spread out in a presentational fashion on the vanity she sat at.

Wrapping a silver lock around your finger, you carefully pinned the last piece in place, securing her intricate updo. Glancing at the finished product in the reflection, you then agreed, “sapphire it is,” plucking the precious stones off the doily-clad table and gently adorning her earlobes with them.

“Beautiful work, dear,” Delilah gave your hand a small pat as you secured the last earring, momentarily catching your eye in the mirror.

The dragon lady. That’s what people called her. Though, through all of your life, the intimidating queen mother had been nothing but kind to you. It was clear that she had a soft spot for you, though you’d never dare to confirm that suspicion.

“Thank you, madam,” a soft smile quickly warmed up your features as you checked her hair one last time, “I hear the prime minister will be attending dinner tonight.”

“Oh, well, I guess I couldn’t avoid him forever. Hopefully, they won’t seat him beside me this time, it was so awfully boring last time, kept on talking about cricket.”

“Could always be sneaky and pretend that you can’t hear him,” you suggested with a sly grin.

“Wouldn’t that be something,” her crow's feet framed eyes glinted with a youthful mischievous glow.

Your shared giggle was interrupted as the door to her champers creaked open. Turning to look, you saw none than your helpful stranger.

“Grandma,” James simply sauntered in as if he owned the place, “I was wondering if you could-,” both his words and his brisk pace fell short as he spotted you, “oh, hi,” your presents promptly brought a fluttering smile to his lips.

Just as you were about to speak up, your eyes wide enough to burst at his audacity, Delilah bellowed, “good lord, James, it’s been enough time, you really must shred that army brashness and start entering a room the way you were raised to. This is not a war room, it’s the castle’s peacock suite!”

“Right,” he chuckled lightly, his eyes never staying on his grandmother for long before flickering back to you, “sorry granny.”

Why was the groundskeeper referring to the queen mother his grandmother? It couldn’t be because-

“Y/n,” Delilah turned in her comfortable chair, “I don’t think you’ve been acquainted. This is my dear James,” she presented with an outstretched arm, “the youngest of my two grandsons.”

Swiftly averting your flabbergasted gaze, you curtsied timidly and gasped, “your highness,” your terrified eyes darting across the Persian rug.

You’d only gotten to know the prince’s likeness through old paintings of him as a child. The battle-scared man standing before you now looked nothing like the bespeckled young royal captured in the portrait you’d passed countless times before.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you miss,” he smiled warmly, bowing his head slightly at you in return.

“Now,” Delilah reached for her cane and slowly pushed herself up to her feet, “what was it you needed?”

“Yeah, um,” he thought for a second, seeming awfully distracted, “it was-… I’m sorry, I completely forgot what it was.”

“Well, maybe you’ll recall during dinner, my boy,” she slowly moved towards the door, “shall we go down?”

“You go ahead,” James gesticulated, “I just need Y/n to send a message down to the kitchen for me. We wouldn’t want them to hold back on the wine now that prime minister Ferrell is joining us.”

“Oh, bless you,” Delilah grinned before disappearing out of the room, “that’s why you’re my favourite.”

Closing the heavy door behind the former monarch, James gently grabbed you by the elbow and guided you further into the room. Preparing yourself for the worst, you immediately promised, “I’ll go relay the message at once,” your head still bowed, not daring to look him in the eye.

“You don’t really have to, I already sent word down an hour ago. I simply said that to get a moment alone with you,” he lowered himself in an effort to catch your cautious gaze, “Y/n,” breathing out your name as if it weighed a ton, “would you please look at me?”

Only momentarily flickering your eyes up to meet his, you blurted out, “forgive me, your majesty, I swear I didn’t know,” your heartbeat was so strong you could hear it pounding in your ears, “I would have never spoken to you in that manner if I knew who you were!”

“Please do not apologise,” goosebumps bloomed on your skin as you felt his fingers briefly caress your arm, “I was so grateful that you didn’t just stiffen up like everyone else, you talked to me like any other man. So, for that, I thank you and beg you to please not change it now that you know.”

“What? I-I couldn’t do that! It isn’t proper, it isn’t right!”

“Why not? You did it before.”

“Well, I didn’t know you were a prince before.”

“A title that’s been true since the moment I was born, but there are also a few others that are just as real. I am a son, I am a brother, I am a soldier. I am still the exact same person you spoke to only yesterday. I haven’t changed one bit, so please don’t act like I have. Please, at least call me James.”

“Your majesty, I couldn’t.”

“Why not, Y/n? It’s just my name, it’s not gonna bite you, didn’t before and I promise it won’t start doing it now.”

“Thomas,” king Fleamont glanced up from his papers to address his eldest son, “we’ve invited a few eligible ladies for tonight. Please actually talk to them this time, don’t just sulk in the corner with your brother.”

“Christ,” James' brother groaned, “papa, I thought this ball was just a little get-together now that granny is in town. Must I truly have to be paraded around every chance there is?”

“If that’s what it takes for you to find a wife, yes,” his father said sternly, then returned his attention to the crisp newspaper.

Grumbling, Thomas slumped back, huffing beside his brother on the tufted couch, “let’s hope they at least push their tits up to the heavens above,” he muttered under his breath for only James’ ears to receive, “that might make it tolerable.”

Chuckling at his sibling’s pout, James then suggested, “since this is for grandmama, why don’t we extend the invitation to Y/n?”

Furrowing her brow over the small fluffy dog in her lap, Euphemia questioned her son’s bold idea, “who’s that?”

“Granny’s lady’s maid,” his words awoke a severe expression to all but one of his family member’s faces.

“Why that’s a wonderful idea, James!” Delilah cheered, “she does indeed deserve a bit of fun.”

Leaning in closer, Thomas hissed in his brother’s ear, “have you gone quite mad? A servant at a ball? Look at a calendar, brother, it isn’t December yet.”

“She isn’t that bad,” James defended, a storm quickly brewing in his chest, “plus, you know, granny’s not that young anymore, it might be a great help for her to be there as support. Just as a precaution.”

“But I have nothing to wear!” you protested, “I didn’t bring a gown, let alone own one.”

“I know you don’t,” Delilah said calmly, not taking any of your blubbering to heart, “that’s why I had a few maids go through an old trunk of mine that I never brought with me to Cudworth,” she snapped her finger at the butler in the corner as he swiftly presented the dusty box he was balancing, “you are gonna wear this,” the top slipped off and you caught sight of the most stunning lavender beaded gown you’d ever beheld in your entire life.

“Your Highness,” you marvelled at the way it sparkled in the low light, “I can’t wear that.”

“I know it’s not the latest fashion, but it’ll do a lot better than that frock you’ve got on now. I only remember wearing it once at a ball back in 1861.”

“I-…” you tried to protest, though nothing came out.

“Y/n, this is not a proposition, you are gonna wear that gown and that is final.”

“God, this soiree is even more ghastly than the last one,” Thomas glanced back over at the cluster of young women fanning themselves and batting their luscious eyelashes at the eligible heir, “you think people would notice if we sneaked off?”

Ever thankful that he didn’t receive the same level of unyielding attention, James cocked his brow at the man half-heartedly attempting to hide behind him, “I don’t think that’s an option, brother,” then snatched up two tall flutes of stary bubbles and handed one off, “here, have another glass of champagne.”

“Thanks, but I’m gonna need a lot more in order to survive the 12 dances I've been swindled into later tonight,” he pouted and took a large gulp. Just then, as the crown prince swallowed down the stinging carbonated beverage, he caught sight of the figure that appeared at the top of the wide staircase. “Wait,” he elbowed his brother, ushering him to glance in that direction, “who’s that?”

Recognising you immediately as you timidly ascended the grand steps, clutching onto the side of your lilac dress, lifting it off the tile so as to not have to trip over it, James uttered through his growing smile, “that’s Y/n,” and nothing whatsoever could stop his unwavering gaze.

“Really?” he scoffed, “that’s the scullery maid?”

“That’s her…” James replied dreamily.

“I gotta admit, in that dress, you could almost mistake her for a real princess.”

“Yeah…” James uttered softly, not hearing a word of what he had just agreed with. “Hold this, will you?” without looking, he handed his glass off to his brother and left his post as the crown prince's unofficial shield.

“James!” Thomas hissed, standing there in alarm, one glass in each hand, not sure if he should follow or not, “where are you going? Don’t leave me alone! I’ll be swallowed whole!”

Catching sight of James’ determined approach, you let out a deep and shaky exhale.

“Y/n!” he smiled, coming to a jovial stop right in front of you, ignoring every merry man trying to catch his high-regarded attention.

“Your highness-” you started, but his voice cut in, breaking your greeting in half.

“James,” he corrected you, the glint in his eye promptly sending a shiver down your corseted spine.

“Good evening.”

“I hope it’s not too forward of me for saying this, but you look absolutely beautiful tonight.”

Your breath got caught in your throat as you blushed over his honeyed words, “thank you, your highness. Though I wouldn’t dare take any of the credit, this was all your grandmother’s doing. This is actually one of her old dresses,” you glanced down at the elegant gown, carefully playing with the skirt and presenting it.

Looking over the fabric just as you did, his earnest words nearly didn’t catch your ears, “I wasn’t complimenting your dress…”

Blinking up into his warm eyes, you found yourself speechless, clueless of how to respond to such flattery by someone of his stature.

“Would you care for a dance?” he asked unexpectedly, evidently not caring about the improper nature of the request, and looking at you as if you were the only person in the entire ballroom.

“That’s very kind of you, your majesty, but I’m afraid I would just embarrass you,” you averted your gaze, “you see, I don’t know how.”

Briefly glancing back at his parents, checking to see if they were watching, James then grabbed your hand, it seeming so small and dainty in his, and uttered, “come with me,” discreetly guiding you out into one of the vacant side chambers.

Following his lead, looking back over your shoulder in fear that someone might notice, it calmed you ever so slightly to see that everyone else was entirely enraptured by the dazzling event.

Shutting the door behind you, his hand still holding yours, he gently turned you around to face him once more. Hearing the string quartet still loud and clear through the walls, the prince smiled, “so, miss Y/l/n,” asking you once more, now in a more private setting, “may I have the honour of this dance?”

Lifting the back of your hand up to give it a small peck, eye contact never wavering, you answered, “the honour would be mine,” blinking up at him through your lashes, “yes, yes you may.”

“Okay, so you just put your left hand right here,” he grabbed it and slid it up, past the many shiny medals adorning his chest, to rest upon his broad shoulder, “and keep the right one where it is,” you inhaled sharply as you felt his free palm slide into place on your waist.

“A-alright,” all the hairs on your body stood up at the intimate proximity, “and now?”

Your right hand entirely engulfed in his, he glided his thumb over it, delicately swiping over a few of your fingers, “now you just let me lead,” noticing how your jaw clenched, he reassured you, “don’t worry, love, it’s easy,” you felt your tense muscles begin to relax a bit at his deep soothing tone, “I’ll do all the hard work, you just trust me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you offered him a small nod as he gently began to move, taking you with him as he fell into the song’s rhythm as if it was second nature to him.

Simply swaying softly at first, it didn’t take long before he had you flowing to the music, slowly making your way deeper into the room, dancing further away from the lines of light the closed door cast.

When you eventually felt him gain more confidence and move your body around freely, you followed the instinctual reflex to briefly glance down at your shoes. Feeling his hand let go of your waist momentarily, he whispered, “don't look at your feet,” and lifted your chin up so you could meet his gaze, “look right here.”

Letting his finger drop back down into place, you felt his palm move and slide around to your lower back, drawing you in just a little bit closer. Feeling yourself disappear into the warm eyes veiled behind his spectacles, completely enraptured by his being and entranced by the way he moved you, you felt his hitched breath hit your skin as he leaned in close enough for your lips to graze against each other.

But just as your eyelids fluttered close in anticipation of his eventual touch, the sound of the door, now a good ways away, creaking open halted your dance at once.

“James?” you heard the crown prince call out, music now more vibrant as it didn’t have to travel through walls anymore to reach your ears, “you in here?”

Acting quickly, James pulled you around the corner and settled you into the little alcove there, pushing you up against the plate mail stature decorating the small corner and cloaking your figure with his own. His bulky frame swallowed nearly all of the starry light streaming in from the tall windows scattered around the chamber, causing you to be able to see him and only him.

“Seriously brother, you have to get out here before pa realises that you’re gone!”

Disregarding his sibling’s warning, James stood his ground, completely enraptured and sharing your breath as he pressed himself up against your voluminous gown. You weren’t sure if it was because of the proximity or if your fingers simply followed the magnet calling them, but you found yourself pressing your palms against the silky fabric of his detailed jacket, feeling his taught abdomen expand with every shaky breath.

Dilated pupils flickering down towards your lips, you found your own mirroring his, fearing that you might faint in the intensity of it all.

His lips pressed against yours before you even had the chance to fathom that it was actually happening. The prince was kissing you. His lips were brushing against yours not in curiosity, but in genuine yearning.

“Come on James, stop messing around, I know you’re in here!”

A small string of saliva followed as James reluctantly pulled back, thumbs brushing over each one of your cheeks as he stared deeply down into your hazy eyes.

“Come to my room at midnight,” he whispered breathlessly, restraining himself to dive back in.

“Your highness, I-”

“Please,” he interrupted desperately.

You didn’t give yourself another moment to think before giving him an answer, being completely spellbound, you uttered, “yes.”

And with a bright smile, he let go of you and backed away, still staring as you had to reach out for support against the wall in order to not tumble back against the ornamental armor.

“Just hold your horses, Thomas,” he called out to his frantic brother, eyes still locked with yours, “I’m coming!”

Hearing the rapid beating of your heart thumping in your ears, you let out a shaky breath. It took you a long moment to finally mustered up the courage and let your fist come into contact with the prince’s door.

Almost instantaneously was it ripped open as if James’ fingers themselves had already been mere inches from the silver knob, impatiently lying in wait like a lion on the hunt, the action was so swift that it startled you.

Face lighting up as he saw you, nervously standing outside his chambers, he promptly grabbed onto your wrist and pulled you inside.

As the door shut behind you, “h-hi,” you offered him a meek smile and stood in the dim room as if it was a china shop.

Elatedly biting down on his plump bottom lip, he echoed, “hi,” sliding his fingers down to weave through your own. Using the hold as leverage, he gently pulled you in closer, his other palm ready to catch your cheek before confidently pressing his lips against yours.

When he momentarily pulled away, you squeaked, “your majesty-,” hindering him from taking your lips once more.

“James,” he corrected you breathily, keeping his eyes shut and nuzzling his nose lightly against yours.

“James…” you tried to keep your head levelled, “what am I doing here?”

“What do you mean? Do you not want to be here?” he took the hand still enveloped in his and pressed it against his chest, “here, with me?”

“I…” this was wrong. The list of punishable things to stray away from in your line of work was extensive, but this one was certainly at the top, “James…”

“Christ, that sounds good coming from your lips,” he groaned, seizing your lips again and flexing his fingers on the side of your head, lightly messing up your primly pinned hair.

Feeling yourself melt under his touch, the kisses began to wander, scattering down your goosebump-ridden neck.

“We…” your breathing was heavy and ragged, “we can’t… What if someone finds out?”

Pulling back, he gently shook his head, “they won’t,” dark eyes boring into your very soul.

“But I can’t-… Y-you’re-…”

“I?”

“You are-…”

“I am just me… Just James,” he stared down at you, begging you to stay.

“But-”

“I am yours,” he promised you earnestly, a hint of fear glinting in his golden eyes, “I am all yours.”

Choking down a sob, you then found yourself pulling him down for another kiss, letting his overwhelming vow sink in and dim that warning light pleading you not to venture any further.

Soon clawing at the silky fabric of his jacket, your fingers caught in the two rows of shiny buttons, restraining yourself from just ripping them clean off. Letting out a quiet whimper as James suddenly detached from you, taking a step back, gazing down at your heaving form, not giving in as you reached out for him to return.

Eyes fixed, his own fingers slowly found the buttons along his torso and began to undo them. Tilting his chin up, he watched you closely as he carefully unveiled every inch of himself to you. Moving your fingers up to mirror his actions, he swiftly spoke up, “wait, let me do it,” stopping you before you’d truly begun, “please.”

The wish made you suck in a breath in anticipation, slowly lowering your hands back down to either side of your skirt, clutching onto the heavy lavender fabric for support as you gave him a small nod.

For a moment, you thought he was gonna bear it all to you right then and there, perhaps he did as well, but his fingers stilled right at the waistband of his underwear when only they remained. Blinking sluggishly as you tried to take in his breathtaking visage, in what felt like a millisecond, James had moved to be back into your proximity. Walking around to stand behind you, his fingers then began to work at the numerous buttons and laces, freeing you of the unusually extravagant ensemble.

You hadn’t even noticed how you’d stopped breathing till his lips pressed against your exposed shoulder and let the first layer fall.

Little by little, the weight you carried was lightened as he tossed more and more fabric to the cold floor, creating quite the poofy puddle. When the corset fell off, James quickly replaced the stiff restraining item with his large warm palms, feeling your waist through the last thin layer remaining, inhaling deeply against the back of your neck.

Gently turning you around, he slid his hands up your sides, promptly lifting your arms to stay above your head. Not dropping his eyes from yours, he glided fingers down to gather up the material of your delicate chemise, only lifting it over your head when the whole length of it was bunched up in his fists.

Not being able to wait any longer, you let your arms fall, draping them around his broad shoulders and pressing your bare body up against his, the palpable tent in his briefs twitching against your stomach at the contact.

Kissing him deeply, you nearly didn’t register when he scooped you up into his arms, the action seeming so effortless for the prince. Thighs enveloping his hips, it was first your heel that attempted to rid him of his last remaining clothes, though when it only worked to push them an inch off his hips, you impatiently dropped a hand down to yank them down the rest of the way, letting him step out of them as his slow stride closed in on the plush bed on the opposite side of the chamber.

Feeling the bedframe soon halt his footsteps, your lips didn’t fall from his as he leisurely turned and planted himself on the mattress, taking you with him still securely wedged against his body.

With his hands already rooted on your rear end, now that he no longer needed to carry you, they started to explore your body, palming at every pillowy curve within his reach. It only took one measly little rock of your hips against his thighs for him to needily yank you forward, landing your sobbing centre directly on top of his hard length.

“Your highne-, James,” you whimpered, the intoxicating contact making you detach from his lips and hide your blushing cheeks in his sturdy shoulder, still reciprocating his forward actions and sliding your dripping heat all along his throbbing length.

“Please, let me have you,” he groaned into your hair, his hot breath blowing back some of the unravelled hair framing your face, “let me feel your warmth,” he pressed a palm on the small of your back, making you arch it and causing all of the delicious pressure to always be directly on your buzzing little pearl, “just let me in, love,” his fingers caressed your spine as you moaned against his neck, bucking desperately against his hardness, “let me have you, let me have all of you just like you have me.”

Reaching down between your bodies, you grasped onto James’ cock and lifted up your trembling thighs, though his large palms swiftly scooped under you, granting you some more security as you swept the bulbous tip through your folds, parting the wet petals over and over again till your quivering hole was screaming for attention. And then, still with your face buried in the crook of his neck, you sank down, eyes rolling back in your skull as your creamy pussy slowly swallowed all of his length.

“Fuck,” James cursed, his chest rapidly rising and falling underneath you.

Clinging onto him for dear life, you slowly began to ride him, shakily bouncing in his lap. Lewd squelching noises reverberated off the palace walls as he let you find your rhythm, eventually finding a slow but intense pace, first raising yourself nearly completely off, till just the memory of his girth remained, and then slamming your hips down against his own so hard that it actually made you see stars with how deep he got.

“Let me see that beautiful face of yours,” you felt his fingers come to rest on each side, in no way attempting to force your head back, simply pleading with you sweetly with every gentle sweep of his thumbs against your cheeks. Your hips faltered as you timidly crawled out of your hiding spot and blinked your heavy lids at him.

The shyness eventually melted away as you registered the adoring look in his eye. Gradually resuming your hips moments, you watched as his head tilted back ever so slightly in pleasure and gaze down at you through his lashes, “there you go, darling,” you let out a loud moan as you felt his palm accompany his praise, swiftly landing it upon your bottom, encouraging your bouncing and causing you to get back on track that much faster.

Rapidly nearing the end now that his soulful eyes were locked with yours, you found yourself completely lost in the euphoric feeling, eventually welcoming James’ desperate aid as he dug his fingers into your hips and rocked you in his lap, essentially just using your body as he would with his own fist at night, lifting you off with such ease and fucking into you till you were both absolutely wrecked by the perfectly synched orgasms that rocked your realities. Though still, even as the pace slowed, he still kept on bouncing you in his lap, pushing his load deeper within you with every needy thrust.

Breathlessly, both of you still completely enveloped in each other, your arms sluggishly draped around his neck and his wrapped around your sweaty body, keeping you pressed up against him.

Slowly blinking his eyes open and staring back at you through his glasses, which had long ago glided so far down his long nose that they were now on the verge of falling off, he sighed contently and pressed his forehead against yours.

“Promise that you’ll write to me,” he whispered, his deep rumble making your sensitive body tingle and your walls clamper down on his softening girth.

First giving his nose a light nudge with yours, you then brushed your lips against his, rapidly developing the innocent peck into a kiss so passionate that the time might as well have stopped.

“I will,” you breathed, feeling the most blissful of tears roll down your cheek, “I promise.”

“Y-your majesty!” you gasped, throwing your head back in ecstasy, nearly bumping your head against the doorframe you were balancing against.

Detaching his lips from your swollen clit with a pop, he glanced up at you from his kneeling position and corrected, “James…” chuckling lightly as his fingers still clutched onto your dark skirt, bunching it up at your waist, “love, it’s been a whole year, thought you’d shake that habit by now.”

“Has it truly been a year already?” a shaky breath escaped your throat as he planted a kiss on your gleaming petals that was way too soft for how close he had you to the edge.

“Happiest year of my life…” he beamed, right before diving back in, eating you out so as if someone could walk in and interrupt your fun at any moment, which was completely probable seeing as he hadn't waited for you to be behind closed doors for him to have a taste, simply whirled you around a corner and told you to be on lookout while he had his fun.

“Fuck!” you weaved your fingers through his hair in an effort to keep him steady as the fireworks set off inside your belly, “James, I’m gonna-, don’t stop!”

Bucking against his tongue as he stared up at your pleasure-filled face in awe, his mouth eventually eased into light pecks, loving the way your sensitive form jumped against his lips. Eventually rising back up to his feet, he pressed his slick-covered lips against yours and let your dress fall back down, covering the mess he had made.

“Thank you,” he smiled brightly, lifting his thumb up to clean the glistening lower half of his face, swiping the finger over his chin only to bring it back up to his pillowy lips, licking the rest of your essence off and enjoying every last drop you’d given him.

“…It was an automobile accident…”

“W-what?” James uttered breathlessly, haven not heard a word of what his father had said after the bomb had been dropped.

Tightening his jaw in an effort to control his own unbearable emotions, the severe king repeated, keeping his voice clear and stern, “your brother, crown prince Thomas, died last night. The authorities found him this morning a few hours away from here, in his car, which had crashed, tumbled over completely. I don’t know how long he was out there, trapped beneath an entire ton of metal, waiting it out, all alone… I-…” he let out a shaky breath, momentarily closing his eyes in order to centre himself, “the funeral will be held on Monday. That should give people a chance to get here in time.”

“Monday…” James’ unfocused eyes flicked around the room as he tried and failed to breathe in a world without his big brother, “granny will be able to get here in that time… that’s-…” he noticed how his glasses were now completely fogged up by his agonising tears, “she-, she should be here…”

“My dear boy, you know what this means, right?” he exhaled, trying to catch his son’s glistening eyes, “as of last night your life will never be the same. It’s time for you to step up as the next rightful heir to the crown.”

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plussizefantasia · 6 months

Text

Little Stinker

Flufftober Day 30: Pumpkin Carving

Steve Rogers x f!mom!reader

Word Count: 1.7k

AN: This is a continuation of Day 21's Story: Good Punkins. Steve and Little Dude have my whole heart I stg. I can't believe that we only have one more day! This was such a fun experience and I think I'm a much better writer than I was when I started. Reblogs and Feedback are always appreciated. I'll see y'all tomorrow for the last day of Flufftober!

divider credit @royallaesthetics

Your little family had gone to the pumpkin patch on Saturday, little dude had been so tired that he passed out in his car seat on the way home and didn’t even stir when you lifted him out of his car seat and into the house.

However, in all of his five and half years on this planet, Caleb James has never slept past 7:00 am. That is why you were not at all surprised when the door to yours and Steve’s shared bedroom creaked open at about 7:05.

“Momma.” Caleb had whispered. Trying to climb up onto the very tall bed that you and your husband shared. “Momma gotta get up. Gotta put faces on our punkins.”

“CJ, it’s too early to carve our pumpkins. We can do that in the afternoon, okay baby?” You pulled him up from his armpits and swung him over your body. Landing him in the space between you and Steve. “Plus, Mommy needs her cuddles. Can I have some cuddles, baby boy?”

“Course Momma, I loves your cuddles.”

“And I love yours, baby.”

“Do I get some cuddles too?” Steve’s sleep-coated voice rasped from beside you. His large arm curled around your waist and pulled both you and Caleb into his chest. His other arm came around from his side and trapped you and the little man in a bear hug.

“Daddy!” Caleb giggled. “You’re squeezing me!”

“Am I?” Steve asked. Squeezing the two of us a little tighter.

“Yeah, Daddy you’re squeezing too tight!” Caleb fought to say in between his giggles. Steve loosened his arms just a little bit, still holding firmly but allowing some space.

“Cuddles for a little bit then I’ll make breakfast and we can talk about what to do with the pumpkins okay?” You asked your boys.

“Otay Momma,” Caleb said as he snuggled deeper into your chest. Slow mornings like this were your favorite. Just being able to exist with the people you love most in the world made everything worth it.

Your family sat in bed for another hour or two, Caleb drifted in and out of sleep and you and Steve just watched each other and your baby in content silence.

Eventually, your husband's super metabolism caught up to him, and his stomach started to growl. He looked sheepish and a little bit upset that he had ruined the moment. You just laughed and kissed his forehead and your son’s before slipping out of bed and making your way downstairs to start breakfast.

If there was one thing Caleb had inherited from his father it was his appetite. Your boys would go through mountains of food if they could. For this breakfast, you made pancakes, some with chocolate chips for Caleb and some with banana slices for Steve. You cooked some scrambled eggs and fried up some sausage and bacon. You cut and peeled fruit to make a fruit salad, juiced oranges, and set the table. By the time you were done, your kitchen looked like a photoshoot for a cookbook.

All that food only lasted your boys about thirty minutes though, before the table was cleared and Steve was up and cleaning the dishes and countertops.

“Can we put faces on our punkins now Momma?” Caleb had asked.

“Sure baby, why don’t you go upstairs and get dressed while Daddy and I bring in the pumpkins from the car?” You had barely finished your question before your little man was racing up the stairs toward his room to get himself ready for the day.

You laughed and finished the last bit of the coffee left in your mug before you slipped on some shoes and made your way out to your car. You grabbed a pumpkin under each arm and started heading back inside. Before you made it more than three steps your show-off husband had taken them out of your arms and back inside.

It seemed like Steve wouldn’t let you lift any pumpkins this year, even if it was just from your car to your house.

You had begun to get the kitchen table all set up for carving pumpkins. You covered the table in newspaper and grabbed three mixing bowls from your cabinets. You grabbed Sharpies and tape, some paper to draw on, and all the different kinds of knives that you’d need.

By the time everything was set up, Caleb was making his way downstairs, fully dressed and practically bouncing with excitement.

“It’s punkin time Momma!” He yelled.

“Yeah baby, time to carve our pumpkins.” Three pumpkins were sitting on the kitchen table. Two of them were pretty large, with one flater side perfect for carving. Those were the ones Caleb had picked for you and Steve. His own was slightly smaller but taller rather than wider.

“What do you want to carve on your pumpkin little man?” You asked Caleb after helping him up onto the chair, making sure that he was okay to stand and wouldn’t fall.

“Uncle Tony!”

“You want to carve Uncle Tony’s face on your pumpkin?”

“No Momma, not his face. His mask, the one on the suit.”

“You want to carve the Iron Man face baby?”

“Yeah Momma, and you can carve Auntie Nat’s widow and Daddy can carve his shield!’

“You want us to have Avenger pumpkins buddy?” Steve asked. “I thought you wanted faces?”

“Mine will have a face. Uncle Tony’s mask has a face.”

He had a point. “Okay little man, let's look at how to draw Uncle Tony’s mask.”

Twenty minutes later, Steve had finished sketching each design on your pumpkin, you had forgone doing Nat’s symbol for doing an actual spider. You’d made sure to include the signature hourglass shape on the back of the sider though, just to keep on theme.

Steve had grumbled the whole time he was drawing Tony’s mask. “He’s my kid?” “Why does he want Tony’s mask?” “My shield is so cool.” All muttered under his breath.

“Steve honey, to Caleb you’re just dad. You’re not Captain America, the first super soldier. You're the man who makes dinner and takes him to the park. He thinks Tony’s mask is cool, sure. But he loves you.”

“How do you always have the right words?” Steve asked you, sharpie still gripped in his hands.

“You have your powers I have mine.” You teased, kissing him chastely.

“Momma help.” Caleb had called out from the kitchen table.

“What do you need help with baby,?” You moved across the room towards him.

“Can you cut the top open so I can get the guts out?’ he asked.

“Absolutely buddy, I’ll cut off the top and then you can use your spoon to get in here okay?” You grabbed the serrated knife from the table. You began to see at the top of the pumpkin, making sure to keep it as neat as you could. So that the lid could be put back on when you brought them back outside.

Steve stood back and watched you help Caleb with his pumpkin. Overwhelmed with love, he took out his phone and sent a picture to the group chat.

Avengers-themed pumpkins, courtesy of little dude. The text message read.

He snapped a few more photos of you with your tongue sticking out of the side of your mouth like it usually did when you were focused. You finished cutting the top off of Caleb’s pumpkin and started on yours. Eventually moving on to Steve’s as well.

Steve and Caleb were on scooping duty, given that you absolutely couldn’t stand pumpkin insides. They smelled and looked horrible and you just couldn’t deal with them. While the boys were scooping, you were warming up some apple cider that you had bought at the farm yesterday along with the pumpkins. You weren’t expecting to be ambushed by your husband when you returned to the table though.

Steve held in his hands a spoon piled high with pumpkin insides. He and Caleb were both giggling like children and Steve counted down from three before chasing you with the spoon.

You shrieked and ran away, hearing the cackling of your little boy from somewhere behind you. “Steve!” You ducked and dodged. “Steven Grant! I swear to all that is holy.” He continued to chase him, laughing along with Caleb who was still perched on his chair at the dining table. You managed to circle Steve and dashed towards your son.

You grabbed onto Caleb and held him in front of you like a human shield. “What’s your move, Rogers.” You raised your eyebrow at your husband. “Drop the spoon and nobody gets hurt.” You pulled Caleb closer to you.

"You wouldn’t dare.” Was Steve’s response, matching your raised eyebrow.

“Watch me.” In one fell swoop, you dropped your hands to Caleb’s sides and started tickling the little boy. His laugh increased in pitch and he started trying to wriggle out of your hold.

"It’s up to you Honey, I don’t know how much longer he can last.” You laughed and continued to tickle your little boy, making sure that he was still having fun at the same time.

“You’re an evil woman you know that?” Steve asked you before theatrically placing the spoon down on the table. You stopped ticking Caleb as soon as the spoon was down and both you and Steve chuckled to yourself as his giggles died down and he tried to catch his breath.

“That was funny Momma.” He told you.

“What was funny, Daddy chasing me with yucky pumpkin guts or all the tickles?"

“Both.”

“Oh yeah?” You blew a raspberry on the side of his cheek. “You’re a little stinker.”

“The stinkiest” Steve agreed.

Caleb began to laugh once again and you and Steve followed suit.

Moments like this made all of it worth it. Steve's mind echoed your thoughts from that morning. Having both you and Caleb was like a dream come true. He would do it all over again if it meant that he would have you. That much he was sure of. Even if his son wanted a Tony Stark pumpkin for Halloween.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #plus size!reader #x reader #fluff #fanfic #plus size reader #marvel fanfiction #flufftober #Steve and Little Dude #drabble #mom!reader #captain america #captain america fanfiction

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tunamayojazz · 5 months

Note

Love your art, any Toge/Yuuta fanfic recommendations? Thanks so much!!

hi!! thank you so much...🥺🩷🩷 and i am SO glad you asked this. i have so many!! here are the ones i read/reread more recently along with some of the tags. tried to make every rec here different from each other hehe have fun reading!!! can't help it (if you look like an angel) by glimmiks (12.4k)

tags: college au, friends to lovers, mutual pining, IKEA

THIS WAS SO FUN TO READ PLEASEEEE i absolutely love college aus so much. and you just know the 2nd years would be the most fun and chaotic as college students. their dynamic is just chefs KISS, and it's written so well here. the mutual pining in here is truly a 10-course meal and i always go back for another round.

i'm alright if you're alright by anonymous (14.2k)

tags: spoilers up to ch146, fluff, hurt/comfort, injury recovery, fix-it, love confessions, pining

post-shibuya fic excellence. i always have such a great time reading this like inuokkos really do eat so well in this fandom. yuta pining is always so great to read like he is Longingly thinking about toge at all times im cry

Magnificently Cursed by diggingupthegrave (91.2k)

tags: dark academia, magic au, magic school au, slow burn, angst, mutual pining

i will always always recommend diggingupthegrave fics. they are easily my favorite inuokko writer pls you have to read all their inuokko fics...i saved this particular one of theirs to read for much later bc i knew it was going to change my life (7 chapters ok) and boy did it do exactly that. the way they implemented canon elements into a magic setting was so so brillaint and i savored every bit of it.

Beat the Turtle Drum by CasuallyScreaming (7.4k) tags: major character death, post-shibuya incident arc, angst, minimal comfort, no shibuya spoilers read this before sleeping the other night and honestly how i managed to still fall asleep after was my body trying to protect me from full out bawling and having a mental breakdown...i don't think i've read a lot of MCD inuokko but god this one shook me to my core. almost like the feeling of loss and grief were bleeding through my phone screen. so well written and while it's definitely mostly painful, the ending....well you'll find out :')

a special occasion by Cheshire (2.5k) tags: idiots in love, established relationship, first dates this was so so cute...!!!!!!! panda: but aren't you two already dating? yuta: well yes! no. sorta, kinda. super cozy and fluffy read!!

is this how every day begins? by mitgi (5.4k) tags: roommates, living together, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, angst i will always love me a roommate au. this fic was such a lovely read and i'm actually going to reread this right after i finish writing this! there's so much to explore in inuokko's relationship and also when it's in different settings. every time i think about how the actual source material are literal crumbs, i'm just even more amazed by how writers are able to draw out the most of what info we have and write their mannerisms so well. it all feels right and so WARM UOGHHHHH

haunted by sieling_fan (3.3k)

tags: pining, hurt/comfort, canon typical angst, character study

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

you showed up just in time by diggingupthegrave (14.6k)

tags: time travel, friends to lovers, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, slight age gap

another diggingupthegrave fic that had me crying screaming shaking throwing up because god. this was so so good. the build up had me at the edge of my seat bc like oh my god what happened? what's happening?? why is this like that? @#$%^&*()_!!!!!!!!!!!!! and when it's all pieced together? oh it ended me. read this again and again for DAYS you would think i was researching it for a thesis or something. take your time reading this btw like im so serious.

okie that's all for me from now, i have so many more to rec honestly....sending out 100000000000 hearts to inuokko writers you are my roman empire....

#inuokko #ottoge #inumaki #yuuta #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #fic rec #inumaki toge #okkotsu yuuta #okkotsu yuta #asks

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areyoudreaminof · 5 months

Text

ACOTAR GIFT EXCHANGE

Beyond: a Helion x LoA fic for @spell-cleavers

For the @acotargiftexchange I was thrilled to write this fic for @spell-cleavers who just so happens to be one of my very favorite people. Getting to know her over the course of this year has been such a joy, so I wanted to writer her something special. And by special, I mean I wrote my first ever smut scene. Can you believe?? Special thanks to @iambutmortal and @rosanna-writer for the beta help, and @separatist-apologist for allowing me to have a fun little cameo.

The Lady of Autumn has agreed to come live at the Autumn Court, though seems hesitant. Can Helion convince her that she belongs at his side?

And here's a little playlist!

She shines me up like gold on my arm I wanna take it slow but it's so hard I love to see her face in daylight It's more than just our bodies at night

Do you think I'm being foolish if I don't rush in?

Beyond-Leon Bridges

MORNING:

Helion Spell-Cleaver was feeling a bit unhinged. It wasn’t a surprise, since he had been looking forward to this for centuries. But still, he was teetering on the edge of his sanity.

It couldn’t have been a more perfect day, though. The sun rose over the Day Court, cloudless skies stretching from the far valleys and hills in the east to the rocky coast and the city of Naxopolis. Groves of orange and fig trees surrounded the sandstone palace, brushing up against its white pillars and walls. The smells of citrus and trees were deepened by the warmth from the sun and a cool breeze from the turquoise sea. From the balcony, Helion watched the early morning sunlight reflect off the waves like small golden flecks. The room was peacefully quiet and open. Helion was certain when he had chosen the large and spacious suite, she would love it.

Now, he wasn’t so sure.

She had never seen the sea, she had told him once, many, many years ago, when they had only met under cover of darkness in the far corners of the Autumn lands. He chose the large wing of rooms as soon as she had agreed to move to the Day Court. Helion wanted a fresh start for them both.

They had each other again. They had their son, Lucien, who had agreed to stay too. Though, Helion would admit only to himself that he wasn’t letting his son and his mate out of his sight again. Never again would Thérèse be stuck in Autumn, never again would she be under anyone’s control. The members of his court were thrilled when he had found Lucien, and they were equally as thrilled when Helion announced his mate would finally come home.

But as he heard the soft cries of morning gulls, and the city coming to life below him, Helion’s doubts slithered back into his mind.

Will she even like it here? Will she ask Eris to take her back? She left once.

Yes, but that was to save us, and to save our son. Helion reminded himself as he took steadying breaths to calm his speeding heart. And I am not that monster. I will never force her. I am at her service.

A soft knock at the door brought him back to the morning. Costis, his butler, entered with a soft robe of linen in his arms. The satyr’s hooves clicked sharply on the tile, as he draped the ivory fabric chiton across a chair.

“Good Morning, my Lord. We’ve received word from Velaris, and the Lady Thérèse will be arriving with your son and his mate promptly at eleven o’clock.” Costis announced, crossing the room to bow. “Her personal items will be sent here.

Helion nodded once, quickly attempting to clear his mind. “Is everything else in order?”

“Yes, your Grace. The food is being prepared as well as the smaller dining balcony in the northwest wing. Nothing much is happening in the city, and The Magus has predicted fine weather for today. Perfect to show Lady Thérèse her new home,” the satyr said as he removed the sleeping robe from Helion’s shoulders. “I can send up for breakfast, unless you prefer to wait.”

“I’ll wait, thank you,” Helion said. He hardly had an appetite anyway.

Costis began to dress Helion, expertly wrapping the toga around him. The soft mix of linen and cotton promised a warmer day, the fabric hitting just above his knees. Enough to tempt, but not enough to scandalize. As Costis fetched his sandals, Helion removed the silk wrap from his head, satisfied that his hair still looked perfect. He had removed the ornaments from his locs for the occasion, instead opting for a small golden thread woven throughout his hair, tying it back with a leather strap. Helion placed a golden sun band on each bicep, cuffs on his wrists, and the small bronze ring Thérèse had given him five centuries ago. Striding to the mirror, Helion took in his reflection. He wore no crown, his toga was simple, and he was unadorned. He looked like the same male that went to the Equinox ball all those centuries ago.

The sharp clang of steel and bronze bells from the Magus’s tower rang, indicating it was half past ten. Helion straightened and took a deep breath. He had been planning this day for weeks, no, centuries. He was ready. “Costis, remind me of the possible itinerary I had drawn up.”

READ THE REST ON AO3

#acotargiftexchange #helion x loa #jenn i love you #eris is a redheaded step-child #my first smut ever??

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valleyof-goldenlilies · 6 months

Text

Skori Zaldrizes Ropagon (When Dragons Fall) [Jace Velaryon x Reader]

HOTD Masterlist | Main Masterlist |

Warnings: nothing explicit, just lots of character deaths, as in F&B canon

Word Count: 10k+

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader

A huge, huge, HUGE thank you to @asa-do-your-thing for the lovely artwork provided in this fic! I love both the collages you created for the teaser and the actual fic itself, and bless you for putting up with me and my slow responses 💕 this fic is dedicated to the both of us, and I hope you will enjoy it even though I was a complete hot mess struggling with writer's block when I came up with it haha. Special thanks also goes out to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for putting together this Big Bang! I'm honoured to have been a part of it.

A/N: This is the first part of my new fic, Skori Zaldrizes Ropagon, submitted for @hotd-bigbang! The rest of the parts will be released sometime soon, as I was only able to write the first part of my fic in time for the deadline haha. It's my first time writing a Jace x Reader fic, and it is rather lacking in romance, most unfortunately. Still, I hope you enjoy the fic. Thank you for supporting my mess of a writing!

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon was aged only ten and two when he heard the prophecy for the first time.

Ever since his mother had decided to relocate their family to the ancestral seat of the Targaryens, Jace had spent much of his days with nothing but the same foreboding walls he was slowly growing tired of. He swore he knew every single crook and cranny in Dragonstone by now, having spent much of his youth traipsing through the home of his forebears, poking and exploring every inch of it.

Dragonstone was a sleepy island, which did little to quell the young Jace’s thirst for adventure and exploration. But once every six moon turns, the inhabitants of the village located on the rocky shores of Dragonstone would come together for a festival of foods and goods. It was initially a small affair, but upon Princess Rhaenyra’s moving of her household to Dragonstone, many merchants and revellers from all parts of the Realm had flocked to the island like sheep, hoping to curry the favour of the numerous Targaryen royals currently residing at the island, or various nobles who visited the island to pay homage to their queen to be with their goods.

And the festival was exactly where Jace found himself on the cusp of his thirteenth nameday. Sick of the constant gloomy atmosphere of the castle, he had snuck out after bribing one of the stablehands, disguising himself in the simple raiments of a peasant, along with a satchel of various coins concealed in his cloak. He had thought of bringing his dagger for protection, but he winced as he recalled the incident on Driftmark, and decided to leave it in his chambers. He wasn’t expecting any trouble tonight, anyway. All he wanted was a bit of harmless fun, and freedom, under the cloak of anonymity. Just for one night.

The festival painted an animated and cheerful scene, so refreshing in contrast to the rather dismal air in the fortress. For a moment, Jace thought he had been transported back to the streets of King’s Landing, where the nightlife atmosphere was second to no other place in the realm. Fascination lit up his brown eyes as he bought samples of snacks from the street food vendors. Many of them were varieties of whatever fishes that could be caught in Blackwater Bay, but due to the expensive nature of imported spices from Essos, the food was seasoned rather simply. Jace enjoyed it however, the whole experience felt liberating. Here, he could just be among the commoners, someone unnoticed.

Even though their relocation to Dragonstone after the Driftmark incident had brought some reprieve, deep down, Jace still felt tormented by the rumours of his parentage. Harwin Strong was long dead now, and so was his father, Laenor Velaryon, yet Jace still felt affected by their passings, though his mother oddly didn’t. One was his…his sire, the other the father Jace had been brought up to believe as his for his whole life, and though both men had not been present for nearly half of Jace’s life now, Jace still missed them. He remembered Laenor’s smile, his guffawing laugh, his warm touch whenever he herded them back from the Dragonpit and back to the Red keep. And he remembered Harwin’s presence - detached, as a respectful nobleman would keep in deference to a royal, but also warm and more constant than Laenor. Daemon was oft far too occupied with his mother to pay attention to him, Lucerys, and Joffrey, though he seemed polite enough to Jace.

But what Jace craved deep down was for the presence of a fatherly figure: strong, brave, caring. And ever since his mother and Daemon have had little Aegon, Jace oft found that those fantasies of his were becoming more and more impossible to come true. Especially now, when he was coming of age soon, and was expected to bear the brunt of his duties as future Prince of Dragonstone, and heir to the Iron Throne. Little sentiment can be found in his world.

Jace sighed, milling around and mingling with the smallfolk, trying to purge those thoughts from his head. And that was when he caught sight of it.

A caravan sat in a corner of the street, its dark red and blue exterior a stark contrast against the earthy cobblestones of its surroundings. The caravan was beautiful, even in its age, and Jace let his eyes trace over the woodwork and craftsmanship of the carvings of various celestial bodies and strange creatures on the caravan. A simple wooden sign hung outside the bright blue painted door, ‘Come have your fortune divined on this joyous day. Should you choose not to, you might not live to see the next day.’.

Jace chuckled at the words, feeling some derision upon knowing what craft the inhabitants of the caravan possessed. He was not a faithful man, by any means. He worshipped the Seven, like any future crown prince of Westeros ought to, yet he felt no connection to those gods. His mother held a reverence for the gods of Old Valyria, and Jace had inherited that, but fortune telling? It all seemed a bit absurd to him. No one can see the future after all, He began to turn his back on the caravan.

However, Jace was seized with a sudden urge to go inside the caravan. It felt like an invisible force was pulling him towards it, despite his disdain for such practices. What is wrong with me? I am a Targaryen prince for god’s sake- But it was like he was under a spell, as his legs moved on their own accord, much to his dismay.

‘You know what, I came here for a night of relaxation after all. This might prove more entertaining than I expect it to be.’

With that thought, Jace found himself knocking tentatively on the door of the caravan, as the door swung open to reveal the dim interior of the caravan. He found it strange that there was no one behind the door, but shrugged it off, taking in the plush furnishings. Gas lamps and candles lit the small space up, giving the interior an inviting glow. Colourful tapestries depicting the sea were hung on the walls, and thick soft carpets covered the floors - such that Jace felt bad for wearing his dirtied boots into the caravan. But all those thoughts of guilt vanished from his mind as he laid his eyes on what was possibly the most beautiful woman in his life.

She didn’t even look old enough to be considered a woman, no, this was a girl so beautiful, he thought that maybe he was looking at the form of the Maiden himself, descended upon this land to grace him with his loveliness.

“Welcome, my prince.” Her voice was soft, nearly encasing him deeper into the spell that was her, until he realised how she had addressed him. Shock surged through his veins, along with a faint uneasiness. “You know who I am?” The fortune teller tilted her head, lowering the hood of her dark red cloak. The colour of spilled blood. “Of course. My god knows the true faces of all people who enter this caravan. And their fates as well.” She motioned for him to sit in front of her, and Jace obliged, sinking down on the cushion, unable to take his eyes off her. It felt like all coherent thoughts had left him. The fortune teller studied him back, her eyes glowing with the knowledge of endless possibilities.

“My god senses some doubt in you of my abilities, my prince.” Jace was startled by her words, but he quickly recovered, a sheepish smile on his face. “I must confess I don’t quite believe in these things.”

“And yet here you are.” “And yet here I am,” Jace echoed back. The fortune teller slid a cup of tea to him, and he wondered how he didn’t see her preparing it. He eyed the steaming tea, debating on whether he should drink it.

“Relax, my prince, I have no reason to poison you, if that’s what you fear.” Jace was growing more unsettled, it seemed like the fortune teller was reading his mind. Was his thoughts really that obvious? He caved nonetheless, lifting the cup to his lips. Its taste soothed his nerves, and he felt some of his former rationality returning. “If I may ask, who is the god you owe your powers to?”

The fortune teller shook her head with a smile, tapping the crystal ball between them lightly. “Does it matter, my prince?” “Well, it does, if you want me to have some faith in your readings.” The fortune teller looked amused. “You will believe what you want to believe, my prince. And my god prefers to withhold his true name from non-believers.”

Jace wanted to roll his eyes a little at that. It was clear this girl was a con-artist, but suddenly, her eyes grew sharp as her crystal ball filled with dark smoke. Jace drew back instinctively, nearly spilling the cup of tea. “W-what’s happening?”

“My god is revealing your future,” the lightness in her voice was gone, replaced by a sort of seriousness. As sceptical as Jace was, his eyes were fixed on the swirling dark smoke. He was entranced by it when he suddenly felt a warm grip on his wrist. His eyes widened when the fortune teller tugged his hands towards the crystal ball, a slight flush in his cheeks. “Put your hand on the crystal,” her voice was filled with urgency. “There is something you must see.”

Gripped by curiosity, Jace did as she said, placing his palms against the cool surface of the crystal. The curiosity vanished in an instant, replaced by a morbid horror as the scenes were seared in his mind.

The sickening smell of blood. Fire everywhere, the distant roars of a dragon roaring and the screams of soldiers on the battlefield. Two opposing armies, one bearing a quartered banner with the Targaryen, Velaryon, and Arryn sigils, the other bearing a golden three-headed dragon on a black field, clashed with each other. Corpses littering the shores of a river. Three dragons lashing at each other in the sky, as one fell to the Earth with an agonised screech. And now Jace was in the sea, watching as ships were set aflame and a dragon that looked like Vermax falling from the skies. The sky was glowing with the colour of freshly spilled blood, smoke filling the air. Jace felt like he was on fire, as the soft, solemn words of the fortune teller reverberated throughout the horrific scene of bloodshed before him. “As dragons battle with each other, and fall from the skies, kin shall betray kin, kin shall murder kin, and Westeros shall burn alongside House Targaryen’s power.”

Then, fire engulfed Jace as he jolted away in shock. The sound of a teacup clattering on the ground pulled Jace from the nightmare, and he was back in the caravan: far away from the smoke, the screams and the flames. He was still shaking as he recalled the searing sensation of fire on his skin, scorching his bones. The dark tendrils of smoke had seeped out of the crystal ball and were creeping up Jace’s fingers, and he hurriedly pulled away and shook his hands until the smoke had dissipated, feeling sick. “What in the Seven Hells was that?” His voice was tremulous with fear.

The girl’s eyes were grim as she fixed her gaze on him. “The future of your family, and House Targaryen.” Now Jace was shaking with something much more than fear: anger. “You must be mistaken,” his words were not as steady as he had willed it to be, and he tried to correct the quiver in his voice. “Your god is a sham. All that was just illusions of the mind. You’re lying.” She must be.

Now it was the girl’s turn to look incensed, and it was like the fury of a thousand sea storms crackled behind her eyes. “Do not dismiss the abilities of my god because of your fear, Prince Jacaerys. You know that war is inevitable between your mother and your uncle, and you would choose to play ignorant?” Her words struck him as he winced while recalling the scenes he had seen. Despite the cool night air flowing into the caravan through its small windows, Jace couldn’t shake off the dreadful feeling of being on fire.

“...it just can’t be possible,” Jace murmured to himself, running his hands through his hair in distress. The scenes plagued his mind like a disease, and the smell of burning flesh was still ever present, making him nauseous. He reached out and gripped the hand of the girl desperately, “You said that there would be a war. My mother wins, right? She’s the rightful heir after all.” The girl looked troubled, “I cannot divulge more than what my god has allowed you to see.”

“Not even if I paid you a golden dragon?” Jace pressed. The girl’s nostrils flared with indignation. “The visions granted to us by my god is something none of your paltry money can buy, my prince.”

Jace was gripped with despair, as he tightened his grip on the girl’s hand, pleading, “Fine, forget about money. Just please, tell me if my family survives. I need to know, please.” Jace could see the girl’s eyes softening, and he tried to implore her even further. “Please, miss. I just need to know that. Your god has already been so merciful to show me so much, surely one more tiny bit of knowledge will not hurt?”

The girl bit her lip, and looked downwards, as if contemplating. It was true that the prince’s future was bleak, and she knew of his eventual ending, but she must not go against her god’s limitations. And yet, she felt compelled to tell him the truth, to tell him of the bleak fate that awaited him. So she prayed to her god for leniency as she locked eyes with Jace again. Her voice was quiet as her reply echoed through Jace’s mind: which would prove to soon be his source of torment that plagued him for his next years.

“No.”

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For years, after being told the prophecy, Jace felt like he was no longer in control of himself. His sleep and dreams no longer belonged to him. Instead, they fell victim to the visions and the prophecy that had plagued every one of his senses since that night. His attempts at seeking Maester Gerardys out discreetly for doses of Essence of Nightshade had only succeeded in eliciting the alarm of his mother and brothers, so he had stopped taking them. He found no reprieve in the dreadful tea anyway.

Instead, Jace tried to find solace in other mediums. The library at Dragonstone had essentially turned into his bedroom now, along with the yard where he and Lucerys trained at arms. He toiled through the histories of wars and conflicts, pushing himself until blotches of crimson began to dot the ancient tomes.

He trained at arms diligently, in an almost ruthless, cutthroat manner. Lucerys had since long given up on duelling him in arms, and the knights that had trained the both of them since they were old enough to pick up a sword had pleaded with Jace on numerous occasions to exercise more leniency on his younger brother. Jace’s only response to that was, “Will leniency be afforded to you on the battlefield, Luke?”

To Rhaenyra, Lucerys and the rest of Jace’s family who cared deeply about him, it was admirable that Jace was pushing himself so hard. He clearly wanted to prove himself worthy of the title as future heir to the throne. But Rhaenyra could see far deeper than that. She recognised a reflection of her youth in her eldest son: the constant, debilitating need to prove himself. However, Rhaenyra did not know to whom he was trying to prove to. She had told him countless times of how proud she was of him and his prowess, but it was never enough.

Rhaenyra had not seen a genuine, happy smile grace her son’s face since his thirteenth nameday.

Jace could see his mother’s concern, could feel the worry of his brothers, the anxiety of Baela and Rhaena. He knew his refusal to open up had caused a slow, but increasingly noticeable rift between their relations, but how could he allow his family to witness his demons? To see the darkness that had been eating away at him like a parasite since he stepped foot into that godsforsaken fortune telling caravan?

He couldn’t.

He wouldn’t let the darkness taint his family’s joy, no matter what. This was a burden he must endure alone.

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The day of Vaemond Velaryon’s petition brought out Jace’s paranoia which had been slowly building up over the years, like an ugly mountain of coal, to the forefront.

But as it always was, fate rendered Jace’s promise useless when they received word that the Greens had repudiated the succession and crowned Aegon as King of the Seven Kingdoms in sight of the smallfolk.

Jace nearly tore himself apart in rage, agony, and horror, at both himself and at the usurpers. How could this have happened? Jace’s mind was numb as he listened to the pained screams of his mother echo through the halls of Drgaonstone. How could he have failed so utterly in his promise to defend his family?

He felt like beating himself up even more when he failed to get Daemon to at least accompany his mother during her labours. It seemed like such a triviality to be angry at, given their circumstances, but watching his mother’s vacant-eyed stare at the corpse of his dead sister just made him want to bash his head with a rock. He felt like a complete failure: he had failed to control his temper around his uncles and to behave in the calibre which the future heir to the Iron Throne should have acted as, he had failed to foresee and prevent the Greens from usurping his mother, and he couldn’t even effectively convince his stepfather to be there for his mother.

And his snowballing of failures had led to the continuous, ominous echoing of the prophecy in his head. The constant feeling of being burnt alive.

But then, the Seven, or whatever capricious deity that held the strings to his miserable life, shone a beacon of light into his life again. When his mother gave him and Luke the task of going as envoys and renewing the allegiances of various lords and ladies in the Realm, Jace was determined to use this mission to make amends. He would not fail his mother no matter what, he told himself as he swooped through the clouds, Vermax rumbling under him, as though sensing his rider’s fierce determination.

He had landed first in the Eyrie, where he had initially received a frosty reception from the Lady Jeyne. With skillful persuasion and a reminder of the lady’s own familial ties to his mother through his grandmother, and the promise to send dragonriders to the Vale, Prince Jacaerys had just successfully completed his first envoy.

He didn’t stay for long however, flying off the next day upon a restless sleep in the Eyrie’s chambers. Time was not on his side when it came to the prophecy, and Jace dreaded to think that every single second he took to idle or dawdle would cost his family their lives. He didn’t want to see the vacant-eyed stare his mother had at his sister’s funeral mirrored in her death.

He then flew to Sisterton, then to White Harbour, and each time, he spoke with the lords firmly, yet charmingly, persuading them to his mother’s cause with promises and betrothals and reminders of their oaths. Jace found that he might yet be a fluent speaker in the language of diplomacy.

However, now, despite his continuous successes, Jace never felt more nervous as he and Vermax soared above the snowy expanse of the North. Enervated grunts sounded from Vermax, and Jace felt sympathetic to his dragon. He clearly does not take well to the cold. But they couldn’t stop now, not when Jace was so close to completing his mission to his mother. He couldn’t disappoint her now.

Cregan Stark was a man with a reputation, and not necessarily a helpful one to Jace. he was known to be stern, formidable, but the Northmen were known to be men of their word, and to have never broken an oath. But the Northern lords always had little interest in Southron politics, and Jace feared that the Wolf of Winterfell might take a stance of neutrality in the conflict instead.

However, he couldn’t turn back now, and it wasn’t like he would do it if given the choice. The prophecy lingered over his head like a dreary cloud as of late, and Jace’s nightmares had intensified in its vivid horror. Vermax let out a shuddering grunt, as if in sync to his rider’s perturb.

I can’t fail. I won’t fail. Jace thought to himself firmly, as Vermax’s leathery wingbeats began to slow as the structure of Winterfell loomed in the distance. ‘There has to be a way to stop the prophecy’s events from coming true somehow. There must.’

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Jace’s initial reception at Winterfell was as chilly as the climate in the North, even with the heat from the sauna emanating from the walls. Cregan Stark had lived up to everything Jace had been fearing, a stern, formidable man of few words, and seemingly disinterested in the brewing conflict. “The North has no place in Southron politics, my Prince,” Cregan had told Jace. Jace had a feeling he was trying to convey a sort of sympathy in his words, but the man’s face was unyielding as he spoke.

A sentiment that Cregan had expressed had given Jace a small sliver of hope, “However,” the imposing man said, clinking down his cutlery. “Tis’ true that my late father swore an oath of obeisance to your mother. And House Stark, and the North, will honour that oath no matter what.”

Jace had attempted to seize on that to leverage Lord Cregan’s support, but the man seemed adamant not to interfere. Jace spent the next moments picking listlessly at his meal, trying to decide the next best course of action. The Northern lord seemed as unyielding as stone, much to his growing frustrations.

“If I may say something personal, my Prince,” Cregan’s low, thoughtful voice broke the silence. Jace’s heart leaped at the voice, coming to life with the hope for negotiations again. “Please, speak freely, my Lord.” “You remind me of my late younger brother, my Prince.” Jace tried to shove down his spike of disappointment, instead feigning politeness as he asked, “I am flattered. Do you hold fond memories of him?” Cregan nodded slowly, his eyes studying Jace’s every move like a hawk. “Many of them, in fact.” “May I ask in what way do I remind your Lordship of your late brother?” Jace inquired, out of courtesy more out of genuine curiosity.

Cregan fixed his flinty gaze on Jace, the corners crinkling a little in memory. “The burden. The feeling of all the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

Jace didn’t quite know what to answer to that, shrinking uncomfortably into his seat as Lord Stark’s gaze penetrated through him. He suddenly felt more aware of his age than ever.

No other words were exchanged throughout the rest of their dinner.

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Cregan had seen men driven by many things before: greed, anger, power, but he had never met someone quite like Jace Velaryon. A strange sense of urgency enveloped his every move, like he was racing against an invisible foe better known as time. Every one of his muscles always seemed taut in tension, his eyes broody, his mind clouded with a thousand storms of struggles.

Perhaps it was this sense of oddity that drew him to become more sympathetic to the young prince’s cause. He had noticed that the young prince had grown more dishevelled ever since their dinner in the hall where Cregan had refused to lead troops in Queen Rhaenyra’s name. He looked like a petrified animal, leg stuck in a trap.

Over time, Cregan began to warm up to the young Prince, taking his meals with him as Jace covertly tried to persuade Cregan into contributing his troops to his cause. Cregan was amused, but remained otherwise unswayed.

And then, the raven from Dragonstone arrived.

Cregan didn’t see Jace for a few days after that. The guards he had assigned to the young Prince had reported him looking nigh delirious, refusing to take more than a few bites of his meals, his eyes sunken in, and the occasional sounds of weeping coming from his chambers.

It seemed the young Prince had been truly broken. And who wouldn’t be, with the death of their younger sibling? Innocent blood spilled at war, Cregan shook his head as he reread the letter from the maester of Dragonstone. Kinslaying was a taboo among Westeros, and rightfully so. Even Cregan had been hesitant when dealing with his power-hungry uncle a few years ago, choosing to imprison him instead of carrying out the sentence meant for treason: execution.

When a week had nearly come and gone and Cregan had not caught sight of the Prince, he began to grow worried. The letter Cregan had received had requested for the immediate return of Jacaerys to Dragonstone, but the prince seemed to have no signs of moving in his mourning.

Cregan was startled to see the young Prince appear while he was breaking fast in his solar on the morrow. While he had sent the young Prince an invitation, as courtesy bode, the sudden appearance of Jace had him unnerved. Jace appeared detached, polite, every inch the prim and proper Prince he was. But what sent a chill through even the hardened Northman’s heart was the look in Jace’s eyes.

They looked steely determined, yet devoid of life, like he was a soulless shell of the person he was. The Prince before him was no man, but a wraith, worn thin by his inner turmoil.

As Cregan offered his condolences, Jace had only smiled faintly, thanking Lord Cregan emotionlessly. “I can only hope that the usurpers will be punished by the Gods for my brother’s death,” Jace’s eyes glowed with an unearthly sort of fury, Cregan noted with concern. “My brother committed no act worthy of such a gruesome death. And for the act of kinslaying, my uncle must pay with blood.”

“Justice will prevail, my prince,” Cregan reassured Jace, his black eyes filled with certainty. But what took Cregan aback was the hard look in Jace’s dark brown eyes: it was like wildfire, blazing and ready to consume everything in its path. And what unnerved the young Lord of Winterfell even more were the next words out of the Prince’s mouth: ‘What I desire is no longer just justice, but vengeance. I will rain fire and blood upon those usurpers who have harmed my kin, mark my words.”

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Ever since receiving the missive informing Jace of Luke’s murder over Shipbreaker’s Bay, Jace felt like all time had ceased to exist. When once he fought to race against the clock to prevent the prophecy from coming true, now it seemed like nothing mattered anymore.

Somehow, he managed to secure an alliance with Lord Cregan, having moved the man enough for him to pledge himself wholeheartedly to his mother’s cause. Jace should have felt relieved: that the task he had set out to do was accomplished, but now, he felt naught but a gaping hole where his heart had been.

Luke had always been his baby brother. Joffrey was his youngest brother, but he was filled with an impish sort of charm and self-assuredness. Luke had been none of those. He was always the more serious, more sensitive of the three brothers. Jace had watched his mother place his dragon egg in his cradle. The first baby Jace had ever held in his arms was Luke. His precious, lovable, younger brother.

And now he was gone, his remains lost forever to the sea. Along with poor Arrax, and the remnants of House Baratheon’s allegiance. With Luke’s death, it was like Jace’s heart had hardened into cold, unyielding stone once more, like it did when he had feared for Luke’s disinheritance and potential punishment during Vaemond Velaryon’s punishment.

Dragonstone was an even drearier place now. The lingering feeling of despair that had been left in the aftermath of his mother’s stillbirth seemed to have increased tenfold, seeping into the walls and hovering above everyone in the fortress like a cloud of anguish.

Rhaenyra had swept Jace into her arms when he had returned. Too tired to even receive her son at the doors, both mother and son held each other and cried in Rhaenyra’s chambers as they mourned Luke, their sweet boy.

But after that, there was no time for tears. At least not anymore for Jace. Though he was still prone to walking into his younger brother’s room every morning to wake Luke up for their daily sparring sessions, he always halted in his path when he remembered. Luke was dead, and there was no coming back for him now.

Perhaps it was this constant feeling of gloom that began to drive Jace back into his old patterns of neglecting sleep. With Daemon gone, and his mother barely a fraction of what she used to be, Jace had to take charge as the future heir to the throne. He initially felt miserable, finding it useless to fight with one part of his heart having been stolen away and smashed to pieces.

Yet the echoing of the prophecy never ceased, and neither did the ticking of time. No, now was not the time for grief. There was still someone left to pay the price for Luke’s death, and Jace vowed that he would kill Aemond One-Eye with his bare hands, along with the rest of his traitorous kin.

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The Hall of the Painted Table was in tumult, voices shouting over one another, loudest and most outraged among them was the voice of Lord Corlys, Jace’s grandsire.

It had been hours after the Battle of Rook’s Rest, and the Black council was in chaos, as Lord Corlys raged and screamed at Rhaenyra, who looked passive and sickly despite being seated at the head of the table.

“It should have been you,” Lord Corlys had screamed, his face a tangled mess of pure unadulterated rage and grief. Even Jace himself could not find the courage to stop his grandsire’s tirade, having experienced the death of Luke not too long ago. But an uncomfortable tingling plagued him as he watched his grandsire hurl curses at his already frail mother. He wasn’t sure whose side to take in this argument, so he kept silent, despite his reluctance.

The Battle at Rook’s Rest had not been the only blow they’ve suffered. Earlier, Ser Erryk had been slain, by the hands of none other than his turncloak brother, Ser Arryk. The bloody discovery had sent jolts of alarm through Jace, as he soon came to fear for the safety of his younger siblings, who were vulnerable should Dragonstone be infiltrated by any more knights such as Ser Arryk.

The seeds Jace had scattered on his laborious trip as an envoy had begun to bear fruit, and not a moment too soon. Quickly, Jace made arrangements for Luke’s betrothed, Rhaena, to make way to the Vale. going with her would be Joffrey, along with his mount Tyraxes. Too small to ride, yet Jace found a greater purpose in sending him as part of his promise to Lady Jeyne. The Vale was the most secure place in the realm, Jace had reassured his petulant brother, who did not wish to be apart from his family. When that did not work, Jace had instead convinced Joffrey that he was being sent to the Vale so that he may defend it against any of the usurper’s dragons, to which Joffrey eventually reluctantly acquiesced, though with a pout.

Barely had Joffrey and Rhaena been sent away then did Jace start making preparations to send both Aegon and Viserys away as well. Both of them were even younger than Joffrey, and should be kept the in the safest and furthest place possible, lest the usurper tried to use them as hostages. This time, Jace enlisted the help of Lord Corlys, mending the broken bonds between them by naming his grandsire Hand of the Queen, a position Jace knew he had long coveted. With his grandsire’s help, they had made arrangements to send Aegon and Viserys to Pentos. It was more secure than anywhere else in Westeros, his grandfather had reassured him as they sent them both off.

All this had been accomplished within the matter of a few days, yet Jace still felt restless. An unpleasant knot had formed in his stomach at Joffrey and Rhaena’s send off, and it only multiplied in its discomfort as Aegon and Viserys set sail. But I’ve done it , Jace thought, trying to console himself. That fortune teller can’t get all of my family now. I made sure that they were sent to the safest places in the whole of Westeros and Essos. I’m safe. We are all safe.

Convinced, Jace had settled into bed that night, shutting his eyes with a grim sort of victory pumping through his veins. See how your god is a falsehood, he wanted to taunt the fortune teller, triumphant in his victories.

He didn’t feel so victorious, however, when he fell into a deep slumber, and came face to face with the fortune teller’s face. This time his dream was tranquil, with no signs of fire anywhere. Jace had nearly hollered in sheer, utter relief, thinking he was free from the nightmarish landscape of that night’s visions at last.

A slender hand reached out to Jace, and Jace levelled a baleful glare at the fortune teller, who only serenely shrugged and continued holding out her hand. “It is rude to refuse a lady’s hand, my Prince.” That voice that had once enticed him, that had been the source of his dread for the past few years.

He couldn’t tell whether he wanted to throttle the woman or kiss her.

She had looked much unchanged since their encounter in the caravan, Jace thought as he took her hand, slightly relishing in the warmth of it. That certainly didn’t feel like a dream. He looked around, registering nothing but rolling grass fields of an unnatural blue-green hue and trees with leaves of the same colour. Frosty pink roses dotted the landscape ever so often, and their sickly sweet nectar wafted through the air.

“Is this real?” The woman tilted her head, and Jace’s eyes couldn’t help but follow the movement of her neck. Damn, he cursed himself internally. He needed to get a hold of himself. Keep himself focused on whether this was reality.

“It’s as real as my god deems it to be, Prince Jacaerys,” she informed him, and a harsh laugh rolled off Jace’s tongue. “Your god, is nothing but a falsehood, my lady,” Jace informed her, his voice dripping with venom at the thought of what he had lost. Luke. His mother’s joy and happiness. His mother’s and his rightful birthright. Though Jace knew it was the greed of the Greens that drove them to such straits, Jace couldn’t help but feel resentful to this unknown, eldritch god who had driven his paranoia for the past few years.

The woman’s face did not show any visible indicators of outrage, but a thunderous flicker in her stormy eyes made Jace feel a little cowed. He did not believe in the god that this woman did, yes, but he knows that there is something unearthly about the woman before him. Her eyes already narrated such an expressive story, Jace wondered about what would happen if all the power swirling in her was put on display in its full fury.

“I’m sure you thought you’ve evaded sailing into the eye of the storm,” the woman began to walk. Jace stared after her, perplexed, but began to walk with her nonetheless. The sweet smell in the air began to dissipate, and Jace felt a wave of nausea in his abdomen as he began to smell burning flesh again. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the more calming scent of something like honeysuckle.

“A man seized by fear may do something moronic in the spur of the moment.. A man who allows fear to take control of him is as good as dead.” Anger bubbled in Jace, though he tried to tamp it down, worried that if he broke the serenity of their talk, the nightmarish scenes of fire consuming everything in its path and the dead faces of his family would return. Not that. Anything but that.

“Had your god not shown me those visions, do you think I would have become a man ruled by fear?” Jace retorted in a calm voice, as they strode into a meadow, dotted with red roses. Jace was desperate to keep this conversation going, to know if he had been successful in tricking the heavens. He knew this woman held the answers to his success in the palm of her hand. He just wished he could stop his eyes from wandering and admiring her visage instead of the scenery.

“Every man is ruled by fear, my Prince,” the woman’s voice was amused. “And are you telling me you regret seeing those visions? Would you rather have remained blissfully ignorant?”

“Maybe,” Jace reached out to pluck a blood red rose, admiring its crisp petals. “Perhaps if I did, then I wouldn’t have to watch the ones I love die in my dreams, slaughtered by our enemies. Maybe then, I wouldn’t have to watch my worst nightmares come to reality, to see Lucerys die and be helpless to stop it.”

“But it’s over now,” Jace and the fortune teller turned to face each other. Her impassive look unnerved Jace slightly, but still, against his better judgement and by some raw, magnetic pull of the universe, he tucked the rose he had plucked free of thorns in the woman’s hair.

“Joffrey and Rhaena are in the Vale, the safest place there can be in the realm. And Aegon and Viserys are in Pentos. Or soon to be.” He tilted his head upwards cockily. “I have beaten your god. And he would never be able to get the rest of my family. Not now, not ever, and if he wants to, he’ll have to spit on my dead, cold corpse.”

Jace had intended to provoke the woman, to goad her into admitting that he had played his cards right and well, but her next words caught him off-guard.

“And what of King’s Landing? The Greens and their dragons?” She reminded him. “The murderer of your brother and unborn sister still remain at large, and the usurpers will live to breathe another day, the same as the rest of your family. Tell me, is your happiness truly just relegated to the safety of your family?”

“You know you desire more, Jacaerys Velaryon.”

The meadow filled with an eerie silence. The fortune teller’s eyes pierced through Jace’s, as if extracting all his deepest secrets with just a single, searing glance.

“...you’re right,” Jace gritted his teeth. “It’s not enough. And I will raze the usurpers to the ground, every single last one of them, for conspiring against my mother. For murdering my brother.”

“But if it’s a choice between vengeance and the safety of your family?” The woman’s voice was playful, a stark contrast to the subject matter they were discussing. “Is that your god’s way of telling me that I am doomed to follow one path or the other?” Jace asked sarcastically. He noticed that when he got more worked up, the familiar smell of burning flesh became stronger, before being quickly suppressed by a sickly sweet scent.

“Mortals cannot have it all, Jacaerys Velaryon. We must make compromises.” Jace thought of Luke, poor, sweet Luke, losing his life at the hands of their uncle, thinking of his mother and the pain she had suffered through his miscarriage, hot white anger blinding him. But he also thought of Joffrey, Baela, little Aegon and Viserys, his mother, his grandsire, and Daemon. For all the wrongs the Green had wreaked upon them, if Jace ever came to the position where he had to choose between taking off Aemond’s head with his sword and protecting Joffrey, say, would he hesitate? What would he choose?

“Not any more,” Jace forced out. “I will be controlled no longer by your god’s visions. By the fear he had instilled in me.”

“My family has the power. We have the dragons and strength in numbers,” Jace’s voice rose in conviction. “The rest of my family are safely stowed away. What’s to stop us from raining blood and fire upon the usurpers?” The overwhelming smell of burning flesh was overtaking his senses again, and not even the sickly sweet scent of the meadow could hide it anymore. “I will prove your god wrong, my lady,” he informed her, a crude sort of determination in his voice. “The Targaryens are closer to gods than to men, after all.”

The roaring in his ears grew louder and louder, and suddenly Jace was back in the battlefield of bodies again, the sky filled with shrieks as dragons plummeted to the ground. It was as if the fortune teller’s god was striking him down for his challenge to it. The hellscape blistered with smoke and fire, but Jace was insistent, continuing to yell. “You’ll see! You’ll all see.”

Jace fought back the urge to flinch as he felt the burning sensation of fire engulfing him, forcing his screams of pain down his throat. That nightmare again. So he hadn’t escaped after all. His breathing grew heavier, as the flames grew greater in intensity and temperature. He could barely see anything now, and it felt worse than all the previous nightmares he had had. Was he wrong to have challenged the fortune teller’s god so boldly? To want to turn the tides of fate?

“I will prove you and your god wrong!” Jace shouted, thrashing and trying to wrangle himself free from the prison of flames. “You will not touch my family no matter what! No more of them! I swear this on all my ancestors of Old Valyria, that you will have my family’s lives only if you spit and step on my dead body! Just try it!”

A fiery burst of flame blinded his eyes, and Jace let out an agonised scream as he felt himself being burnt alive.

And then he was falling into an empty pit, his limbs outstretched and his heart seized by terror.

A figure bolted upright from the lavish four-poster bed in one of the more secluded rooms in Dragonstone, gulping in the fresh air greedily. His sheets were stained with sweat as Jace wearily wiped a hand down his face, dismayed but not surprised to see a patch of scarlet stain his palm as a steady trickle of blood dripped from his nose.

His heart thudding, Jace tried to recollect himself as his heart thudded in his chest. Yet again, the fortune teller’s calm, flowing voice filled his head as he recalled the last words he heard while he was hurtling through the empty vortex.

“Dragonseeds.”

A warning, Jace started, or another prophecy. But what does it mean?

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Jace couldn’t quite find the steely strength that used to take hold of him every morning as he walked down to the Hall of the Painted Table. His vivid dream and talk with the fortune teller the night before had not yielded his intended result, to say the least.

His grandsire was holding court as usual, and they immediately settled on their newest problem now that the younger children were away and out of the castle: the problem of their dragons. While the Blacks did have strength in numbers, having Syrax, Caraxes, Vermax, and even Baela’s Moondancer, as she insisted, against Aemond One-Eye’s Vhagar, the battle to retake King’s Landing or to withstand an assault by Vhagar would be a risky one. The loss of Meleys had been a devastating blow for the Black council’s earlier plans to take back King’s Landing as soon as possible, for it remained a key symbol of legitimacy that supported Aegon the Usurper’s rule.

Jace sat stoically in his chair as Baela and his grandsire fielded suggestions and assessments on the risk factor of taking King’s Landing with their current dragons, lost in thought. His mind was focused on the dream he had last night, of death and battle and destruction that somehow felt more real and close to any dreams he had in the previous years, but also because of that fortune teller.

That darn woman. With her mysterious words, her expressive eyes, her solemn wisdom falling from her very kissable lips-

“Jace.” Jace wanted to kick himself for even thinking about such thoughts, when his betrothed was right next to him. Baela arched an eyebrow, clearly noticing how distracted he was. “My apologies, did you address me?” Jace murmured lowly to her, averting his grandsire’s disapproving gaze.

“I asked what you thought about attacking King’s Landing with our current forces,” Corlys’ lips were pressed in a thin line, looking slightly displeased that his grandson had been caught lacking in his duties. Jace was about to repeat just about what everyone in the room had voiced out, when the fortune teller’s words from last night rang through his mind.

Dragonseeds. Wild, untamed dragons on the island.

Seven fucking Hells.

“I would like to make a proposal.”

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Lord Corlys had been dubious but intrigued about the plan of the Sowing of the Dragonseeds, but the Black council, including Baela, had seemed receptive to the idea. Particularly the Council. Jace wondered if he had made the right call when he saw the shifty looks on the various councillors’ faces, clearly hoping to claim a dragon of their own. After all, the Targaryens boasted their dragons as their might, should they be lucky enough to get the chance to bond with one…

The gold and knighthood Jace had planned to offer along for anyone successful enough to tame the dragons would pale terribly in comparison to a dragon.

Jace was alone on the balcony with a view of the eastern slopes of the Dragonmont, musing, when he suddenly heard the doors slide open. His eyebrows shot to his hairline and his heart pounded with delight when Rhaenyra Targaryen emerged on the balcony, garbed in black. She had only been wearing black ever since Luke’s funeral, or the makeshift one they were forced to arrange without his remains.

“Mother,” Jace greeted, moving to bow, but Rhaenyra halted his movements, moving to take his hands. “Oh my son,” she murmured softly, stroking Jace’s hair like she used to do when he was younger. “My strength and my consolation.”

Jace felt a fluttery feeling in his heart, but also a deep pit of longing and sadness in his stomach. This was the mother he had missed sorely, not the one tucked away behind the vacant-eyed stare, face subdued during council meetings and always looking preoccupied with her own thoughts.

“Mother. Have you heard of my plan about the Dragonseeds?” Jace asked softly, a warmth spreading across his cheeks as his mother gently stroked his hand with her thumb. His mother smiled, “I have. I think it is a sensible plan. More dragons on our side is never a bad thing.” Her eyes glittered with pride as she reached out and cupped Jace’s face in her hands gently.

Taken aback but not at all averse to the gesture, Jace let himself be soothed, letting all the nightmares, that nonsense about the prophecy be evaporated into thin air. All he needed was his mother’s comfort.

“Oh, my sweet boy, how I have let you down,” Rhaenyra spoke tenderly, sorrow in her voice. Jace felt something in the spell break, Rhaenyra was speaking to Luke. Not to Jace. A bit of Jace’s happiness gave way to sadness.

“You haven’t let me down, Mother,” Jace tried to reassure her, but his voice came out a little croaky. “I should be fighting for you. It is my duty as your son and heir to the throne.”

A little of the vacantness slid back into Rhaenyra’s lilac eyes. “I’m glad you know that, Jace,” she said quietly, but it broke Jace’s heart to see how far away she was. How her heart never fully repaired after Luke.

But for now, Jace was content in acting as a placeholder for Luke, if it meant that his mother would return to him bit by bit. How long it took did not matter, he just wanted his family to be able to heal, to survive. He would shoulder a thousand burdens if it meant he would see them all safe and sound.

The prophecy rumbled through his head again, but he tamped it down, not wanting it to poison his moment with his mother.

“You’ve grown skinnier, Jace,” the pads of Rhaenyra’s fingers gently traced under Jace’s undereyes, where his eyebags were more prominent than ever. “Are you well? You need not feel too troubled, you know. We will win the war, because I am the rightful heir to the throne. The rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms.” His mother’s voice was so full of conviction, so much like the mother he had known, that Jace didn’t have the heart to tell her that conviction did not win wars.

Whomever favoured fate did.

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The Dragonseeds plot had worked its magic, and soon enough, four of the six wild dragons had been tamed. While Jace had not come to trust them just yet, he felt a little abashed. Was he just treating them with mistrust just because they were of bastard birth? He knew he had no prerogative to think in that shameful manner, after all, wasn’t that being a little bit of a hypocrite himself?

There was no time to dwell on guilt however. With the sowing of the Dragonseeds, Jace, Rhaenyra and Corlys had been advancing the plan for the taking of King’s Landing at breakneck pace. Jace felt a warm relief spread through him as he began to see his mother participate more actively in council meetings, and he could see how much it invigorated the council too. The former self-assured, rosy glow his mother had would never quite be the same, but Jace was content to settle for this for now.

Alas, all good things did not last.

They had underestimated the strength of the Greens’ alliance with the Triarchy, as demonstrated when his younger brother, Aegon, returned on a faltering Stormcloud, in terror after having been attacked by Triarchy warships in the Gullet, and losing his younger brother, Viserys in the ensuing melee.

Rhaenyra turned pale as soon as she heard the news of Viserys’ disappearance, collapsing into her chair and no longer speaking another word. Still, she listened and watched as Jace and Corlys began discussing plans to counter the threat of the Triarchy, knowing that if House Velaryon’s hold on the Gullet broke, it would be a resounding strategic win and gain in resources for the Greens.

Thus on the fifth day of the new year of 130 AC, a flurry of dragons and ships departed from Dragonstone, all headed for the Triarchy. Jace commanded Vermax, along with the other Dragonseeds, his lips pressed in a thin line and eyes haggard with lack of sleep. His nose had been bleeding oft as of late, even now, as they drew closer to the Gullet, but Jace only wiped it away with a fierce look on his face.

It was his first battle as the heir to the Iron Throne, and he was going to show those Triarchy bastards they had chosen the wrong side to back.

Swooping down on a line of Lysene warships, Jace narrowed his eyes as he heard the alarmed calls of “dragon!” among the crew. Good.

“Dracarys!” Hungry dancing flames licked the wooden remains of the Lysene warships, as chaos broke out throughout the fleet of Triarchy warships. “Hold your formations!” Jace could hear the soldiers scrambling, but more frenzied shouts began filling the air, as the shapes of Vermithor, Sheepstealer, Silverwing and Seasmoke appeared in the skies.

“Fire!” Jace barely had time to react before a Myrish crossbolt had nearly struck Vermax’s underbelly. His dragon let out an enraged shriek as it swooped for the offending vessel, burning it to ashes. Jace gritted his teeth, they had clearly learnt this tactic from their time in dealing with Daemon in the Stepstones.

Egging Vermax on with a roar, he bade Vermax to destroy as many vessels loaded with crossbolts as possible. Already, some ships were beginning to turn, a good sign for them. Jace was confident that the battle would end in a resounding victory for them.

Just then, he flew past Seasmoke, whose rider, Addam Velaryon, looked ashen. Jace’s gaze shot to where he was staring at, where the ships were headed straight for Driftmark and Dragonstone. Fuck.

“Stay here!” He yelled a command to Addam, already directing Vermax to head back to defend Dragonstone and Driftmark. “I’ll handle this. Burn every ship that has one of those fucking crossbolts, and don’t fly too close to the water.”

With that, Vermax’s leathery wingbeats headed for Dragonstone once more. Please, Jace begged, hoping to make it in time. No more of my family. Not my mother, or little Aegon. Please no.

Perhaps if Jace was more careful, more alert, he would’ve noticed the squadron of ships, veiled by the smoke of the fires Jace had set earlier. Perhaps if he hadn’t chosen to fly so close to the edge of the water, hoping to conceal Vermax’s presence and sneak an attack from behind instead of from above, he would’ve noticed the crossbolt aimed at Vermax’s eye.

A loud roar filled the air, one which could be heard all the way across from Dragonstone. Vermax shrieked and flailed, as both squadrons of ships attacked at the same time, loosing crossbolts at him. Jace panicked, trying to redirect him to fly up, to escape, to flee, but a horrific screech erupted from Vermax as a crossbolt pierced his eye. Jace was gripped with fear as he began to unbuckle his saddle as Vermax careened for the waters.

In his frenzied fury of pain, Vermax loosed several fireballs, which hit the ships in front of him, destroying the back of some of the squadron headed for Dragonstone. The ships splintered into pieces as they exploded, and the remaining ships shouted orders to row away from the firing range of the dragon.

As Vermax hit the waters with a loud crash, Jace finally got loose of his saddle. Spotting an adrift, large shipwreck near him, he leaped free…

And landed on the shipwreck, barely clinging on in the freezing waters. He struggled to keep afloat as Vermax continued thrashing about in the waves, and his heart ached as he watched his beloved dragon suffer.

Then, a sharp, excruciating pain filled his left chest, and Jace looked away from Vermax to see an arrow lodged in his chest, piercing his dragonriding leathers.

Fuck.

Jace tried to make himself look smaller, anything to seem less conspicuous, but a volley of arrows were shot in his direction. Most of them missed in the dark, but the pain was blinding to the point where Jace’s feeble grip on the wood slowly loosened, and he thrashed about wildly in the cold sea waters, gasping for breath. The weight of his dragonriding leathers and scarce amount of armour did not work well in his favour however, and the treacherous waves soon dragged him down, into the deep dark depths of the ocean.

I cannot die now, Jace thought, sputtering for air desperately. My family, my mother needs me. She cannot lose another son-

The currents were getting harsher and harsher, as Jace bled out helplessly on the water. Armour, he needed to dislodge his armour- he frantically attempted to remove it, but as he lost more and more blood, his limbs grew number and number, and soon, he could barely retain consciousness.

‘I’ve failed. I’ve failed them all.’ was Jacaerys Velaryon’s last thought as he was pulled beneath the currents by invisible tendrils of water, into the murky depths below.

‘I’m sorry I failed to protect everyone.’

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In his dreams, Jace was at the meadow again. The woman was nowhere to be seen, but he could feel her presence all around him. A light, serene sort of happiness filled him, and he felt the phantom feeling of warm arms wrapped around him from behind.

It was something he hadn’t felt in years. An eerily calm sense of bliss. But Jace didn’t care, he was too busy relishing in the moment where his mind was free of his demons. Free from worrying about his family’s survival, about the prophecy, and about the war.

In his blurred senses, he could see someone smiling at him, a tender, playful one. A warm breath grazed his ear and the voice from his sweetest dreams and most horrid nightmares spoke in that calm, flowing manner of hers.

“The living are not quite done with you yet, Jacaerys Velaryon.”

And that was the last thing he heard before darkness consumed him once more. At least this time there was no pain.

The first thing Jacaerys registered when he woke up was the faint scent of snapdragons. He groaned as he awakened, feeling an agonising pain in his shoulder as he tried moving.

Aren’t I supposed to be dead? Jace remembered the events of the battle of The Gullet, where he had watched Vermax flail about in the sea, screeching as he fought not to drown in the cold depths of the ocean. His heart ached at the loss. Another one of my family gone, in the blink of an eye. And in the sea too. He wondered how the battle ended, did they win?

But that soon became a minor concern as he began pondering…where exactly was he? He looked around, trying to sit up, but the pain in his shoulder forced him to fall back onto his pillow with a groan. So he was still alive then. Sudden panic gripped him. Had he been taken hostage by the Green forces? But if he had, then he would be in a far worse state than he was now.

He glanced around the small space, noting that he was in a cottage of sorts. The smell of salt was heavy in the air, and the sky outside was grey and gloomy. Had some fisherman rescued him when he washed upon the shore? And if so, where in the Seven Hells was he now? The Crownlands? He definitely didn’t wash ashore on Dragonstone, or he would have been handed over to his mother. His heart ached as he wondered how his mother must have reacted to the news of his death. Once he ascertained his whereabouts and who had saved him, he would fly home for Dragonstone immediately….Jace sighed when he remembered that Vermax was dead now. He would send a raven or any messenger bird he could find then.

The sound of the front door to the cottage opening caught Jace’s attention and he tried bolting upright, but yelped when his shoulder pain acted up again. He waited with bated breath as the door to his room opened, and revealed his saviour and possible enemy. However, the sight before him left him thunderstruck.

In that instant, Jace’s heart felt like it had stopped and then had been jolted forcefully back to life again by a tight grip.

No. No, no, no, it was impossible. He had died, had felt the arrows pierce through his chest near his heart, before he fell prey to the treacherous waves of the Gullet, drowning in his failure. This has to be some false afterlife, set up to torment me.

And yet, the pain in his lungs was overbearing, and definitely real, as he sat on the bed like he had been bolted to it, tightly clutching the coarse bedsheets in his fists.

The whole world seemed to stand still as his eyes took in the familiar figure, holding a basket of herbs in her arms. Garbed in simple peasant clothing, yet that did not diminish her otherworldly beauty.

“ You. ”

“Me.” An insouciant, wry grin graced her lips, and it was like Jace’s most horrible nightmares and his dreams were blossoming before his very eyes.

“Welcome back to the world of the living, Prince Jacaerys.”

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published as part of the HOTD Big Bang 2023

Part 2 will be published soon! If you made it this far, thank you for reading! 💗

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