#so of course she's got to be sea based

[theabigailthorn]

What are we supposed to do now? By ‘we’ I mean UK based trans women and transfems. How are we meant to continue? Knowing the country hates us. The law refuses to accept our existence. Everyone wishes we would just shut up and disappear. How are we supposed to live like this? I know I can’t.

Let me tell you a very funny story that might make you feel better.

Not long ago I called the suicide hotline feeling exactly the way you describe. The volunteer on the other end was an older cis lady, and I was like, "Hey, I'm trans - all this stuff is happening, the government says blah blah blah, the court says XYZ, and I feel like I'm living in this really hostile country that hates me, and it sucks!" I told her how angry I was, how much all this makes me hate by fellow human beings, how much I wouldn't care if Britain sank into the sea or was burned away to ashes along with all its inhabitants, and how ashamed I am of feeling such venom and cynicism.

And there was a bit of a pause.

And the volunteer lady says, "What's trans?"

I - Joker makeup bursting from the pores of my face - explain to her what being transgender is. She has questions like, "So, what was the legal process like, what do you have to do?" and I'm like "Oh HO HO HO! Let me tell you the hoops I had to jump through!" and she's like "Wow, that sounds so difficult?" and I'm like, "HEE HEE HEE I haven't even gotten to the difficult bit yet!" I'm ranting, I'm pacing my living room like a tiger, quoting Merchant of Venice and Coriolanus down the phone to this woman on the suicide hotline, like "If you prick us do we not bleed?! If you tickle us do we not laugh?!" "I banish you, and here remain with your uncertainty!" (She's like "I remember this Shakespeare from school!") It feels like I'm vomiting up this black sludge of hate that I've built up, like people spit on me and I've absorbed all that spit and now I'm burning with it.

So at the end of all this the volunteer lady's like well yeah of course you feel angry, that makes perfect sense! Anybody with a heart would feel the way you do! Of course you feel cynical and bitter and despairing! And she tells me that she hasn't seen any of this, but it's shocked her. She thinks this court case sounds like a really backwards step; she thought Britain was progressive. And I'm like, "I used to think that too, and the loss of that illusion hurts."

But then she goes well look - these judges and politicians, they live in a bubble. They don't really know what life is like for ordinary people like me and you. There are plenty of people in Britain like her, who just don't really pay attention to this stuff. There might be some who throw things at me in the street and treat me poorly, but there are also a lot of people who are just... normal? And fine? And who are just doing their own thing, and who are appalled to discover this kind of thing is happening? And I'm like oh yeah - I guess if the country was destroyed all those people would go too... It's not true that everyone wants us to disappear.

And she says she's going to go home and look all of this up because it sounds like trans people are really being mistreated, and she's like "Thank you for telling me all this. I hope you feel better."

And I'm like yeah you know what, I kinda do. It helped to have someone else go, "I understand how you feel." So, y'know, we've got one more ally at least.

[lilyinmysoul]

When The Night Ends

DarkJackson!Joel x F Reader

WC: 2k

Warnings: Smut, unprotected piv, somno (sorry not sorry), dubcon, dark Joel like I said, Joel is dominant, breeding kink, kinda forced breeding but she's into it, Joel palming himself

Note: This is based on a request I got, reblogs help so much. If you like it, tell me, so I can write more. If it's not your thing, shoot me a request so I know what is.

Joel isn’t sure how Jackson has so much damn alcohol, or where it all comes from, really. That hardly matters, though—all that matters is that it’s there, and he will drink it.

Regretfully, he couldn’t overdo it. He had patrols to go on, responsibilities to attend to—but nearly every Friday, without fail, he would take to the Tipsy Bison. Whether it be alone, with his brother, or the occasional patrol partner, he would be there.

You are, of course, aware of this. And even if you did have a say in the matter, it wouldn’t bother you much. There was a complete absence of a label regarding yours and Joel’s relationship; maybe it was because you both knew that he wasn’t cut out for such a role, or possibly how you knew that to bring it up would be to run the risk of disturbing a very concise system—his temper. Really, it appeared that you took what he gave you, and it seemed to be enough.

In any case, it is yet another Friday night. The double doors of the Tipsy Bison swing open, and the cool air on his skin mixes with the alcohol’s hazy embrace of his conscience, and Joel wants to see you. The winds are rough, hence why he is nearly the only man in the streets (paired with the time—it’s the dead of night). His brow furrows a bit harder when a man passes by with his son, and he begins his trek back to… wherever he finds himself. He’s too inebriated to make much sense of it. 

It had been too long, it appeared, since he’d seen you. You had noticed this too, and frankly, it seemed to be the nature of involving yourself with Joel Miller. As of late, he had increasingly withdrawn himself from your company; but tonight, he seemed emboldened in his sense of longing for you.

Although it is cold, the winter snow has since cleared, leaving only the occasional melting puddle of slush under his feet. Those same feet lead Joel all across town. He passes rows of closed up shops and blocks full of houses. Warm houses, he assumes. Houses occupied by families, maybe. Husbands, wives, children… alcohol makes him sentimental. Angry, even. He continues to trudge.

What’s interesting is that drinks seem to both aid and worsen the hole in Joel’s chest. They deliver some sort of tranquility, and also, a comparable and equally as intense sense of abhorrence. This isn’t something he contemplates as he nears his house, and when he sees it, he doesn’t slow. He continues to walk. After all, there isn’t much for him there; and so, his home is going, going, gone to a sea of other, almost identical ones. Ones with more to offer than a few half-built and boring guitars.

And when he arrives on your doorstep, it’s like second nature. He’s been here enough to know where you keep your spare key, but never long enough to find the one that opens the back door. Tiredly, he kneels and his hip pops as he reaches underneath the flower pot (he believes he gave this to you, but he really can’t remember) and slides from under it the key.

He turns the knob—not slowly or carefully, but rushedly—and it twists and opens. You had left it unlocked—God, he hates when you do that.

The door creaks open and gives way to Joel’s figure—you weren’t around to notice; it couldn’t be any earlier than midnight, and you had long since gone to bed. He fishes around on the wall in the pitch blackness for the light switch.  It takes him a moment, but he flicks it on. The kitchen is illuminated by a few twenty-year-old lightbulbs and cluttered by everything you couldn’t bother to put away. Each item thrown upon your table was a fragment of your life—not enough of which included him, which fueled his irritation.

His shoes don’t come off, and instead he climbs the stairs, his heavy boots leaving wet footprints on each step and 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 on the wood but not loud enough to wake you. His every pace is slightly swayed, his balance influenced by many glasses of whiskey, downed alone in a corner of the bar.

Your door is slightly askew, and its hinges squeal as he pushes it open. Joel’s eyes fall upon your sleeping figure, your limbs lost among the sea of blankets tossed atop your bed. Your work clothes had been haphazardly strewn across the floor, and you wore only a bra and panties. This was a spectacle of your everyday life, he realized; one that he didn’t know much about. Another pang of displeasure gnaws at his heart—he isn’t sure of its origin, but he knows that it’s disturbing him.

The way he kicks off his boots is slightly more hostile; a loud, dull noise that rings through the room. The old, hollow walls reverberate the sound, and you stir—but don’t wake. Once his old and beaten shoes rest against the wall, his feet carry him to the edge of your bed. As he takes in your sleeping face, your head resting in your hands and legs stretched wildly on the mattress, he feels almost proprietorial of you.

Only you know that Joel’s vexation often turns to arousal in your presence, and the two often blend. There is something about your still and sleeping face, the plush curves of your body made visible by your clothing (or, lack thereof)—or, it may simply be the fact that Joel is frustrated and he needs it taken care of. As he stands above you, his hand—as if on its own—snakes down to the bulge protruding from his worn jeans. His fingers rub and squeeze, his eyes running over you as you twitch and stir unconsciously. You seem to mesmerize him momentarily as he stands, his roving eyes concluding that they want more.

Soon enough, his drunkenly clumsy fingers are fumbling with his belt, pulling at its leather and clanking its buckle, pulling open the suddenly complex contraption. Next, the silver button of his jeans is popped and the zipper undone as your firm mattress dips under his weight when he sits. For a few moments, he looks at you. And with an almost uncharacteristic gentleness, his fingers reach out to touch you. The graze is tender as it glides along your side, your stomach, your chest—though maybe only an effort to adjourn your waking.

His calloused fingers reach the band of your underwear—a faded blue pair from however long ago. They roam over the soft fabric, cruising over its front and halting when they skim over the spot you like so much—it makes you tense; but your eyes don’t open. Two of Joel’s fingers trace circles for a moment. He watches your still face and glances down when your thighs squeeze. With a few more circlings, his patience has run dry and his captivation with you has turned to necessity.

He does as he can to be gradual with his movements as he lays over you on the bed, his hair tousled and his jeans halfway down. An elbow props him up, his face adjacent to yours as his glazed eyes search your closed ones. His free hand hastily frees himself from the confines of his boxers and rubs fumblingly over the damp fabric of your panties again before pushing aside its material.

His mind is slightly empty from the alcohol, and his head a bit achey, but he knows what he is doing. For no more than a split second, he looks down, aligning himself with you. He pumps his cock a few times before finally notching himself in—a hiss leaves his mouth, and as his hips begin pushing into yours, he looks back up. Your eyes are open.

Your eyes widen, surprised as sleepiness refuses you any sense of understanding.

“Shh,” Joel insists. “Baby, it’s me.” His voice tapers off when he says this, his head slouching to rest on your shoulder.

“Joel…” when his voice registers with you, familiar and low, your muscles relax a bit. “What… are you doing here?” You ask, and as soon as the question leaves your mouth, you understand its stupidity. His hips are moving now, in and out… ‘Why else would he be here?’ and you’re half asleep.

“This okay…?” he asks, but it doesn’t seem like he cares greatly about your answer; he is very much out of it. You smell it on him. On his skin, on his breath. Everywhere.

“Um, I…” His eyes are glassy and focused on yours, and his hips are getting faster. The room is black, and you’re not sure what to think, but you’re glad that he’s finally here again. The only sounds in your ears are the old radiator and the wet sound of skin on skin. “Yeah.”

His head dips to your neck, nipping and biting in a way that’s a little too primal. You wrap an arm around him, your hand resting on his back and when Joel begins to grunt, you let sounds escape your mouth, too.

“Shit…” his voice wavers, and he might be even more drunk than you thought he was. But as sloppy as his movements are, they are persistent. 

“Joel.” His name passes your lips. As a question, or as a statement, you aren’t sure. You don't get an answer. The moon outside is the only thing allowing you to see him, the accentuated lines across his face and the greys littering his hair. Your legs wrap around his hips now, seeking some sort of comfort, or reassurance.

He wasn’t ever particularly chatty during sex, but he is even quieter now. His energy, it seems, has been dedicated to pushing his hips as firmly and deeply into you as possible. He looks almost focused, determined. Or maybe distracted.

Joel is clearly working himself up. His movements rougher, his voice louder, and he’s close. You always know, with the way he tenses, the way he speaks. This is the only fact that registers in your mind; everything else is lost on you. So, when he says; “I’m not stoppin’,” you blink.

“What?”

“I’m gonna cum,” a thrust. “And I’m not pullin’ out, I’m not stoppin’.”

“Wh…” you start. A groan on both of your ends sounds when he hits a particularly good spot. You yourself are getting close now, your back arching slightly off the bed, your mind still cloudy as you try to make sense of Joel’s words.

A few of his fingers come down to rub your clit, circling onto you your own wetness before coming to rest on your stomach. His hand caresses the skin on your tummy. “Imagine that…” he mutters in an almost slurred tone. “Just imagine that.”

You look down at his hand, and then back up again. You meet his eyes, and you understand very clearly what he means. You don’t have the will to fight it–at least, you don’t think you do–so, you hold him tighter and closer, letting each thought fade from your mind as he continues to bliss you out. How he holds you so possessively, how he looks at you so rapaciously… you don’t mind at all.

A few more erratic thrusts, and you’re coming. A few more, and Joel is, too.

You hear it—a low grunt and a groan from Joel—and then you feel it; a deep, warm sensation— a release and movement of liquid that you’ve never felt before. He’s never done that. You can’t help but, in all your weariness, think about the weight of what has just taken place.

To claim you had never mulled over the thought of a child—Joel’s child—would be a lie. The thought was welcoming, sweet… but Joel was not. He was neither. What he had just made was either some kind of commitment, or a grave mistake.

“You’re mine, y’know.” He grumbles into your hair.

“Am I?” You ask.

“Y’are.”

“Okay. I believe you.”

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Thanks for reading! Lmk if you like

[satorena]

.𖥔˚. “and whenever we fuck she be fuckin’ me back, put her in a headlock with my elbow” or whatever dababy said.

cw. explicit content. afab!reader. mild asphyxiation play. báckshots. squírting. implied marathon séx. mild impact play. reader is freaked out & toji is trying to keep up. 1.8 wc.

heat.

he feels nothing but heat as your velvety walls swallow his throbbing cock, consuming his vulnerability straight into the warmth of your core. heat, as the course in which blood pumps through his veins runs hot, flashes of pure adrenaline the only fuel left steaming in his worn out body from sheer overstimulation. heat, in the way it creeps up his chest, past his love assaulted neck and sits all over his face.

heat, the way the smooth skin of your ass feels as it ricochets off his hips in ripples that waves of the deepest of sea floors couldn’t ever dream of recreating.

he fucks into you like he’s got something to prove, and maybe he does. because you sit there, sprawled on all fours, a sinful dip in the arch of your spine glazed in drying semen— and in the midst of your mewls, you’re smiling, the furrow in your brows and your loosened jaw a telltale of satisfaction on your end. but, there’s an almost relieved smile etched on your lips, and toji’s never found a woman enjoying herself during sex any more attractive.

he’s rounds deep into fucking, has forgotten the amount hours ago, but even with sweat seeping out of every pore on his body, there isn’t anything celestial that could sever the magnetic pull of his thighs meeting the back of yours. your cunt is soaked, so wet he hardly feels his own dick crushing your cervix. but clamps down on him with a grip so tight— as if running from good pussy has ever been in his character.

he holds onto your hips harshly, and knows he’ll leave visual proof of his dedication printed into your skin. there’s a wonton symphony that soars into the sex scented room— a harmonious blend of your dripping pussy squeezing onto him for dear life, sweaty skin slapping against sweatier skin, and the love child of guttural groans and throaty moans. his name spills past your swollen lips in broken hiccups, but the way your nails claw into damp sheets suggests you’re just as relentless.

if not more.

his abdominal muscles tighten with every devastatingly deep thrusts, and there’s the familiar tingle simmering in his guts. he knows he’ll hold out until he rearranges yours via mushroom tip, but there’s only so much a man can muster out of sheer will alone, and you looking back at your bodies’ point of contact with heart in yours eyes certainly isn’t helping.

he doesn’t need to look to feel your creamy essence enveloping the base of dick. it sits into the patch of raven hair right above and connects strings of the sticky substance from your rear end to his front. it’s as messy as it is disgusting, and it takes every brain cell left in his putty mind to not cum.

a stray drop of sweat trickles from his matted locks and lands straight onto your ass cheek, and he brings a hand to land a firm blow onto the flesh. a deep rumble emerges from the depths of his lungs when your sweet cries are accompanied by a tighter claw of your cunt on his cock, “fuckkk mama— you tryna k-kill me here?”

a rhetorical question, of course, but the probabilities of it are never zero, by the way your misty eyes drag up slowly to meet his darkened ones.

your torso twists as your neck shifts, the love bites near your jugular blossoming into a purplish hue on full display. your smaller frame bounces forward from ruthless pounding, and even as your head jerks from the repetitive attacks, your smile never fades. and the wider your cheeks split, the harder he pistons his length into you.

his heavy balls ache for release, desperately tempted to fill your womb full of his unconditional love, but knows better than to cross that bridge, and instead lurch forward with each stroke to slap at your puffy clit. the additional stimulation forces your teeth to sink into your bottom lip, failing to contain the whimper that crawls out of you.

“tojiiiii,” follows the pathetic sound as his knee knocks into yours to further spread your thighs apart and deepen the exploration of his tip inside your cave. “you fuck me sooo good— can feel you in my s-stomach, baby.”

what a sweet little thing, he thinks smugly, though doesn’t doubt your words in the slightest . he’s positive if he flips you onto your back, the outline of his cock protruding your tummy would be prominent. you always take him so well, possibly better than how he takes you. little to no complaints ever, besides to up the pace or readying up for another round.

toji doesn’t get the chance to answer when he hears the thick sound of your bodies colliding echo in the air. there’s a look of overwhelming lust glazing over your eyes, and it doesn’t take the namely faster point of contact of your ass against his pelvic region to piece together that you’re fucking him back .

as your hips push backwards to chase that euphoria, his own drag forwards in timely manner. the gravitational push and pull of your sweaty bodies in synchrony has long surpassed human comprehension, your battered cunt surely in dire need of a break despite your mind’s own desires, as well as his painful hard-on diving back into the familiarity of home. toji didn’t care enough to let his weary body rest— he’d blow your back out until you personally begged him to stop.

and judging by the subtle throw of your head from his hand wrapping around the column of your neck with pressure applied, he knows that isn’t any time soon.

“that’s it, doll.” toji praises you through an animalistic growl, hooking his thumb in between your gaping mouth, doubling in the groan when you latch onto his digit with pouty lips. “fuckin’ show me how bad you need this dick.”

and show him you do, hips relentless as you bounce on his puncturing cock as if it were your lifeline. he matches your energy effortlessly, his body having a mind of its own as it meets you halfway. there’s bliss spread all over your face, a feeling you’re unable to shield even if you wanted to, as drool slobbers past his calloused knuckles.

the sharp coil in his stomach feels too big for the space it occupies, as it tightens the faster the pace augments. you throw your ass back so hypnotically that toji has no other choice but to spank both cheeks to cease the daze you were pulling him in.

it does no damage, of course, but the reddening hand mark embedded into your jiggly flesh certainly riles him up .

when the glide of his thick cock against a fleshier wall in your cunt has your teeth sinking painfully into the pad of his thumb, he knows you’re near. the soaring pain shoots straight into his balls, the sack twitching in anticipation to release generations worth of hot cum onto you.

not into you— yet, at least.

it starts with heat licking at every limb in his body. then, the tingling buzz in his rib cage. his mind runs miles a second, simultaneous full yet deviated of thoughts, besides a range between putting a ring on your finger as soon as he’s finished shooting blanks and how sinful every dribble of your essence melting into his skin forces a curl of his toes.

and your eyes— god, your eyes.

they don’t leave his for a second. not when the tickle of his pubic hair scratches your ass. not when the back of your thighs meeting the front of his starts to become borderline painful. not even when he pokes at your golden spot like he’s trying to push all your buttons for that explosive reaction. they don’t pull back, barely even blink at all, but stare deep into his emerald ones as if trying to bare his soul open at your disposability.

if your body wasn’t revealing your every desire to fuck like animals, then the look in your eyes most definitely did.

“shit,” he cusses, realizing he’s lost both the battle and the war, “‘m gonna cum.”

your moans come out muffled around his finger, though the excessive nod of your head confirms you’re both on the same wavelength. he feels it in the way your pussy kegels on his dick, practically begging him on your knees to grace you with his nut.

and just who was he to deny you of that right?

though, you beat him to the chase as you suddenly pull forward, just barely, off his cock and robbing him of warmth, and your body convulses in tremors of ecstasy. your jaw slackens and his thumb slips from your mouth, but easily finds your neck and clutches. he then only realizes you’re cumming when your smaller hand wraps around his cock, and drags his tip up and down your slit as you shower him in liquid.

what a sight for sore eyes— your body hardly able to contains its arch as your thighs tremble, and your lips part to cry out his name. his fingers hold a little harder around your neck while you use him to get yourself off, spraying yourself all over. the desperate tugs of his dick at your pussy lips are amplified by the unexpected but never unwelcomed dam that floods.

his chest pants heavily, and the coil in his guts snap. he swears his mind blanks out as he coats your fleshy pussy in hot strings of cum. he doesn’t even try to suppress how desperate his moans come out, not when your upper body slumps into the bed and your ass toots in the air. you let his cock rest in the crack of your ass as he finishes up his heavy load, the evidence leaking from your spine to the dimples in your lower back.

it takes both an infinity and a second for his high to come down, dick jumping weakly against your ass as it empties its contents out. he’s struck with the urge to spank your globes one more time and does just that. “fuckkk,” toji sighs, the tingle in his cock breaching the painful zone as you wiggle your hips back. you’re fucking insatiable, teasing him so.

“come on, old man,” you peer over your shoulder, giggling at the scowl on his face from that god forsaken nickname. he watches as your hand slips beneath your body to knead at his balls, and his cock twitches eagerly at the touch. fucking hell, he’s just as insatiable, “don’t tell me you’re already tappin’ out?”

he knows you’re baiting him. he knows you know he could and would keep you up until sunrise. but dangle a bone in front of a starving dog and watch how fast it’ll lunge. and before he can even bother weighing the pros and cons, he flips you onto your back and rests your legs over his shoulders.

and your smile is telling. i’m gonna be here for a whileee, toji thinks internally as he grips the base of his weeping cock and slips back in.

rena writing for toji????? hello????

[rawjutsu]

thinking about giving satoru head for the first time (and its your first time giving head too)

your knees hit the floor way too fast for you to back out now.

and okay, maybe that wasn’t the smoothest descent. there was a little wobble. a slight thud. but you’re committed. you are so stupidly committed to this that you’re willing to risk public humiliation and possibly your life because fuck, this man’s stupid perfect face looks way too smug, and if anyone deserves to be humbled via blowjob—it’s gojo satoru.

“aw.” he says it immediately. just that. aw. that cocky, too-pretty-to-be-real grin spreads across his face, and you feel it in your bones.

“what?” you mutter, face already burning.

“you look so cute down there,” he coos, lounging back against the couch like a fucking roman emperor. his sweatpants are already pushed low on his hips, pale skin on display, and his dick—long, flushed, heavy—rests against his stomach like it knows it’s intimidating. “lil determined look on your face. you’re gonna suck me off or die trying, huh?”

you give him a narrow-eyed glare and wrap your hand around the base. he hisses. “oh? baby’s serious,” he teases, voice dropping as you stroke slowly, trying to figure out a rhythm. he’s so warm, and heavy in your hand, and okay—this is fine. you’re doing fine.

until you actually put your mouth on him.

the first lick is awkward. just a shy little kitten-lick at the head. he groans—dramatic as hell—and drops his head back like you’ve just parted the fucking red sea.

“god, that’s hot,” he murmurs. “you’re so fuckin’ cute trying to act all experienced.”

“i never said i was experienced,” you grumble, cheeks hot.

“nah,” he agrees, looking down at you with amusement. “you didn’t have to.”

you almost back out. almost. but then he smirks. and it spurs you on like no other.

you suck the tip into your mouth and start bobbing your head, determined to make him shut the hell up for five seconds. he huffs a breath, hips twitching—but then it starts.

the commentary.

“careful, baby. teeth,” he says, all sing-song and sweet.

you pull off with a wet pop. “shut. up.”

he holds his hands up, grinning. “just tryna help. don’t want my little rookie choking on the final exam.”

you flip him off and go back in, a little more confident, a little sloppier. he’s definitely too big to take all the way right now, but you’re trying—working your mouth around the head, spit already pooling, hand pumping the rest as you suck.

“ohhh, fuck—look at you go,” he moans, voice starting to crack at the edges. “ten points for enthusiasm. minus three for—ngh, okay, never mind. you’re passing.”

he’s such an asshole. you want to punch him. you want to impress him. you want to make him whimper.

you flatten your tongue along the underside and suck harder, hollowing your cheeks a little. you hear him breathe sharp through his teeth.

but then, you try to go deeper.

and of course his dick fights back.

it hits the back of your throat too fast. you gag, splutter, nearly pull back—but his hand gently lands on your head, not pushing, just grounding.

“easy, easy,” he murmurs, suddenly softer, brushing your hair off your face with surprising care. “you’re doing so good, baby. look at you. so fuckin’ pretty with your mouth full.”

you’re coughing. your mascara’s probably smudging. you blink up at him through teary eyes like a raccoon who got into the trash and instantly regretted it.

he moans. moans. “you’re killing me. like, actually. this might be how i die. death by adorable little cumslut.”

you squeak—literally squeak—and slap his thigh with your free hand.

“language,” you croak, voice hoarse from nearly deepthroating a monster.

he just grins wider. “aw, she talks. i thought i broke you for a sec there.”

you take a second. deep breath. regroup. and then go back in, slower this time. more spit. more confidence. you start stroking with your hand and bobbing in a rhythm that makes him swear under his breath.

and when you glance up at him—eyes glassy, lips swollen, drool at the corner of your mouth—he freezes.

“oh, fuck. that look,” he groans, finally sounding a little desperate. “you’re gonna make me lose it.”

“then shut up and let me,” you say, voice raspy, and smirk around his cock like you’ve just taken control of the entire situation.

you don’t make him cum this time. you gag again. you get drool all over your chin. your jaw aches. but he’s so soft with you after—pulling you up into his lap, stroking your back, kissing your temple while you grumble about getting better at it.

“you did so good,” he murmurs, voice low and thick with affection. “gonna be my favorite little toy once we get some practice in.”

you flick his forehead.

[p0orbaby]

Double Exposure

sunmary: you want to go topless, alexia isn’t too pleased

warnings: mentions of smut, some vulgar language

a/n: okay a bit of context; rich!alexia inspired by that pic she posted looking hot all in black. reader was her sugar baby before things got serious and they fell in love. sugar baby = bad for image so reader was kept secret up until now. this is their honeymoon. *and breathe*

word count: 2.2k

-

“You’re not seriously going out there like that?”

Her words flat. Almost bored. Which is rich, coming from a woman who—barely ten minutes ago—was on her knees between your legs, growling into your cunt like it owed her rent and a written apology. Her voice now is the exact opposite of how it sounded then: cool, clipped, almost affronted. Like you’ve just told her you prefer supermarket olive oil. Like she doesn’t still have your taste on her mouth, drying into the fine creases of her lips, sunk into the seam where her teeth pressed down too hard on your inner thigh. Like her face wasn’t, moments ago, framed by your knees.

There’s a bruise on your hip in the exact shape of her thumb, planted like a signature. Another on the inside of your arm—darker, more controlled. Intentional. Just about composed, like something framed and hung under a spotlight. Your ribs ache faintly from where her elbows braced, sharp and functional, digging in as if she was preparing to split you apart. You haven’t seen your reflection yet, but you don’t need to. You already know what you must look like: mouth swollen and slightly parted, ribs flushed with heat, nipples still tight from her teeth and the blast of the air conditioning you forgot to turn off. Hair tangled, skin glistening at the hollows. The kind of wreckage that suggests not just sex, but possession.

You wonder what someone might assume if they saw you now. Not what, but who.

As in—Who did this to her?

As in—Who owns her like that?

The answer, of course, is already stepping barefoot onto the polished teak.

Her presence is enormous—not in volume, but in precision. In density. She radiates this sense of curation, of something not just expensive but worth owning. She moves like something honed to a point. She exists the way a Cartier Crash watch does: violently elegant, disturbing in its fluid asymmetry, confusing in its intention but undeniable in value. She is the kind of woman who doesn’t tell the time; she is the time. You once asked her for it, just to see what she’d do. She didn’t answer. Just turned your chin with her knuckle and kissed you hard enough to erase the question mid-sentence.

“I’m warm,” you say.

Which, in your shared language, means: Don’t tell me what to do.

Which also means: I want to see if you’ll still claim me in public after I deliberately ignore you.

Which, if you’re being honest, means: I’m still hungry. Even now. Even after that.

She says nothing.

You can feel her looking at you—feel her stare like fingers, counting every inch, every blemish, every trace she’s left behind. You wonder what part of you she starts with: the notched line of your spine, still red where her nails dug in; the subtle knot at the base of your shoulder from how she’d gripped it, too tight and too long; the soft under-curve of your breast now exposed to an entire sea that doesn’t give a single fuck. A sea that couldn’t care less whether you’re clothed, naked, adored or completely destroyed.

You imagine a lens somewhere. A long one. A telephoto. Some French man called Henri crouched in a small dinghy, cradling a Canon 1DX with a greasy finger and a questionable sense of ethics. You picture the headline already drafted in someone’s inbox: PUTELLAS’ MYSTERY WIFE BARES ALL OFF THE COAST OF CORSICA.

In all-caps, of course. They always use all-caps when a woman’s tits are involved.

You smile.

She walks over now, slow and certain. Picks up your discarded bikini top from the side of the lounger. Holds it between two fingers like it offends her on a structural level.

“This is literally a shoelace,” she says.

“It’s Prada.”

“It’s two triangles of fabric and the audacity of youth.”

You bought it impulsively the same day she signed the closing papers on the London penthouse, high off real estate and champagne, off her hand on your thigh beneath a linen tablecloth at Scott’s. She’d said it was too revealing, and you’d laughed directly in her face—mostly because she said it while unzipping your dress in the boutique changing room, knuckles grazing the lace you’d worn just for her. You still have the tag, folded neatly into your drawer next to a crumpled Agent Provocateur receipt and the Hermès tissue paper she tore through with zero ceremony. She, meanwhile, keeps everything. You once found an envelope in her office drawer marked in her small, upright script:

Apology Gifts – Receipts (Honeymoon Series).

Inside: three separate invoices from Van Cleef & Arpels. Two dated the same week.

“You’re topless,” she says this time. Not angry. Just too the point. Aware. Like she’s updating you on the weather.

Cloudless sky. Northeasterly breeze. Wife’s tits out.

You reach up, twist your hair into a loose knot. The strands stick slightly, damp with sea mist and the residue of her breath on your neck. Your breasts lift and settle with the motion. You can feel the weight of them shift, the sore prickle of friction where she pulled and twisted and nipped. Her eyes follow the movement, a twitch of hunger barely there in the corner of her mouth.

“I know,” you say, voice neutral. Sweet. Dangerous.

Alexia sighs. Her hand moves through her hair—shorter now, though just enough off to rifle her off split ends. There’s a dent pressed into her hairline from the fabric headband she still wears to play, out of habit more than need. You touch it sometimes in bed, when her back is to you, when her breathing’s heavy but not quite asleep. A thumb against the divot, like a priest touching his rosary.

Her wrists are bare. No jewellery today except for the platinum wedding band you places there twelve days ago, and the thin gold chain at her throat. It holds a Charles X medallion, antique, slightly tarnished. She claims it means nothing. But she wears it every time she signs a deal. Every time she fucks you after one. You’ve seen her in diamonds, emerald-cut and cruel. But nothing sits on her body like that coin.

“There could be press,” she says.

“There could be sharks,” you say. You don’t even look at her. “But that didn’t bother you when you fingered me in sea yesterday.”

You recline against the lounger, the one with the pale linen cover you never sit on dry. Your spine still stings—fibres rubbing into your back while she pinned you there, muttering things too filthy to be translated. The fabric beneath you now is cool, slightly damp from condensation or the aftermath of a very physical forty plus minutes. You cross one ankle over the other, toes flexing idly. The sun toasts your chest. You let it. You want it to tan the shape of her mouth across your breasts.

She doesn’t respond. Not immediately. You know that silence. It means she’s choosing her words, trying not to sound like her mother. Or worse—like the managers, the press officers, the people who shadowed her for years with clipboards and crisis management emails. Alexia never speaks by accident. It’s one of the things that drove you insane when you first met her—this polished, endless restraint. The way she could dress down a boardroom of men, then turn to you and call you mi amor in the same tone.

Like both were contracts. Like both were binding.

Now, she says: “You’re not used to being wanted by people who don’t actually like you.”

And there it is.

It lands like a dare. Like a diagnosis. Like she’s giving you something to chew on, not swallow.

“Is that what this is about?” you say, head tilting. “You think someone’s going to look at me and decide I’m… what? A threat?”

“I think someone’s going to look at you and decide I’m careless,” she says.

You freeze. Not outwardly. Just a beat in your breathing. That’s the thing about her—she never needs to shout. She just drops the knife and waits to see who bleeds first.

Her shadow breaks across your thighs like ink. The sun hits the length of her left leg, slicing down from hip to shin like it’s auditioning for something. She’s all lean geometry and sin. A shape so precise you’d believe it was machine-cut.

You think she might kiss you. You want her not to. Not yet.

She leans in instead, low enough that her voice barely has to travel.

“You’re covered in bruises,” she says, almost admiringly. “I fucked you stupid. You’re wearing nothing but saltwater and lip balm. And you’re sitting here like you’re not my wife, and I didn’t make you like this.”

You swallow. Your throat is dry, like it always gets after she’s done with you—used up and dusted out. Your body throbs in memory. Your cunt still pulses when you shift.

“You did make me like this,” you murmur. Soft. Sincere.

And somewhere in her expression—just for a second—you see it: that twitch of pride she tries not to show. The quiet, sinful satisfaction of ownership.

“Exactly.”

She reaches for your sunglasses—her sunglasses, black Celine with amber lenses and an arm smudged with your thumbprint—and lifts them off your face in one smooth, silent movement. Her fingers graze your cheek, knuckle to jawline, and it’s enough to short-circuit your thoughts. Your brain hums white for a moment. She’s close enough that her breath ghosts across your lips, and you can still smell yourself on her skin—rich, musky, heady, obscene.

She looks at you like she’s weighing options. Like she’s standing in front of a vitrine and trying to decide whether to sell you, pawn you, or buy you back again just to prove she could. There’s a flicker in her eyes, something almost amused. You get the sense she’d fuck you right here on the deck if she thought it would end the conversation.

“You forget this is a game,” she murmurs, voice low and even, like silk slipping through her teeth. “And the thing about games is, someone always plays dirtier than you.”

You blink slowly. Her breath smells like lime and sea salt, fresh and sharp. Her bottom lip is still slightly swollen—faintly bitten, faintly red, with a drying sheen of you along the corner. You imagine licking it off.

“Let them play,” you whisper.

And you mean it. You’re reckless with it. Bare, skin hot and mouth parted, knowing she could undo you again just by slipping her fingers into your bikini bottoms—or worse, pulling them down and walking away.

She smiles, but it’s sharp around the edges. Not cruel, just resigned. As if she already knows how this ends. As if she’s already read tomorrow’s headline and memorised the photo credit.

“You say that now,” she says. “Until they’re in your face asking how much I paid for you. How long you’ve had your tits done. Whether the bruises mean I hit you. Whether I own you or rent you.”

You flinch, but barely. Not from her—never from her. It’s not the words that land. It’s the image of someone else using them. Of a voice you don’t know, speaking in contempt and press passes. Of a cheap hotel room and a slideshow of your body from twenty different angles, taken without permission, captioned without truth.

“I can handle it,” you say, but your voice lacks the usual gloss.

“Can you?” she asks, soft as cashmere. “Because I don’t think you’ve had to yet.”

You want to argue. You want to say you’re not naive. That you’re not a doll or a trophy or some wife-shaped ornament she found at a charity gala and forgot to put down. But the sun is too warm and your skin still buzzes from where she held you down. Your cunt still aches in the best possible way. And deep down, you know she’s right.

You’ve lived wrapped in her world like a pearl in velvet. You’ve been sheltered in her storm—hidden inside her yeses, her private flights, her curated little ecosystem where nothing touches you unless she allows it.

“I like the sun,” you say.

It’s not a counterpoint. It’s not even an argument. Just a truth. You like the heat on your skin. You like being watched. You like the idea that someone, somewhere, might see what she’s done to you and ache with the knowledge that it wasn’t them.

She nods. Stands. Her shadow slips away like an expensive afterthought.

“I’ll talk to Marc,” she says. “Have him revoke the crew’s electronics permissions.”

And then she’s gone. Back into the cool interior, where everything is silent and beige and expensive and untouched. Where the floors don’t creak. Where the cameras can’t follow. Where her phone is probably already ringing and her assistant is already listening.

You stay.

The sea is stupidly blue. Aggressively blue. The kind of rich that makes you feel poor just looking at it. Your nipples are tight. Your skin smells like sweat and sex and suncream. Your pulse is low and steady, like a cat in a warm window. Your lips still taste faintly of her—salt and spit and something deeper.

You don’t know where the camera is. But you’re certain there is one.

You sit perfectly still. Posed. Cinematic. The image already forming in the lens:

Topless. Ruined. Glowing. Defiant.

The kind of wife who knows exactly what she’s risking.

And exactly how good it looks when she does.

[tovibeornottovibe]

Don't Panic

Friend!Nesta x Reader | Azriel x Reader (ish)

based on this request (thank you @suppppp97! i hope this meets your request, i had a ball writing it)

Nesta doesn't like you. Never has, not since the first time Azriel introduced you as his mate, and you chalked it up to a personality clash; namely, Nesta being prickly and you being, well, you. You had thought that was how it was going to stay, but when you and Nesta get captured by Illyrians, you have to work together, and you find yourself understanding each other a little more. You might even end up friends. [10.3k words]

warnings: canon-typical violence, swearing, Nesta and reader being assholes to each other (at the start), reader being a BAMF, plot, interrogation, az being a softie at the end

Prefer to read on Ao3? | masterlist

You have to laugh. Just a day ago, you and Azriel were out on the balcony of the House of Wind, eating breakfast, talking about this upcoming mission like it was a sunday stroll over honeyed tea and buttered scones. As new as your mating bond is, it’s easy to take that gentle, domestic intimacy for granted. Now, your legs ache, your head is throbbing from lack of water, and you can’t quite feel your fingers for the burning cold. What’s worse, you’re stuck in this fucking cave in the middle of fucking nowhere with who else but Nesta fucking Archeron.

Truly, for whatever reason, she can’t stand you, and over these past few months, you’ve learnt to live with it. She’s hardly ingratiated herself to you in any case. Little digs here and there, things about how different you and Az are. You’re loud; he’s quiet. He’s tall; you’re, comparatively, short. You get paperwork done as quickly as possible; Az is as diligent as they come. He’s a broody, secretive male; and you’re a little ray of sunshine, his words, not yours, even in your angstier moments. When you talk, he listens and, well, Az doesn’t exactly talk much at all, does he? After that first meeting, when Az introduced you to the Inner Circle, she said, “Opposites attract, I suppose,” and you realised that you and her just wouldn’t click.

You don’t care. Az doesn’t care, even if it has soured their friendship somewhat. Not even Cassian cares. But by the gods, if it wouldn’t make jobs like this one a whole lot easier if you could just be civil with one another.

The Blood Rite. Heightened tensions. Pissy Illyrians with a penchant for making things difficult. You were sent to find out if there was going to be any trouble this time around.

You know the Steppes pretty well from your days travelling through the Court as a merchant, then you got to know the more dangerous parts as a mercenary when the trade dried up during Amarantha’s reign. You have contacts here with some of the more amenable war bands and it’s for this expertise that Cassian wanted you to come, so you could speak with those who are less willing to talk to a General. Azriel, of course, was never going to let you come to Illyria without protection, and Nesta scares the camp lords so much that she could be used as extra leverage if things took a turn. So, it was the four of you who headed off.

It should have been you and Azriel together. It should have been fine.

There had never been problems in Stonecross. It’s a camp tucked away by the northern coast of the Court, fairly progressive as far as Illyrian camps go, and absolutely vital for trade—particularly for the medicinal professions. In the rocky, sea-facing caves in the mountain under the camp exist the perfect conditions for certain plants to grow: fungi, flowers, some things not even Madja would fully understand the uses of. 

You all realise too late that they put it, whatever it was, in the food. You’d been too complacent. Too trusting. It didn’t even take ten minutes before the four of you started to feel drowsy, then nauseous, and then, in horror, you saw Az’s shadows drop off his body, like the magic which kept them tied to him had suddenly vanished. 

You don’t really remember what happened next, it’s all a blur, but you got grabbed, flown (or maybe winnowed, it is the days before the Blood Rite after all), and now, you’re here… 

You’re in a carved-out room of black, damp stone, the only light coming through the slight crack under a boulder which covers what looks to be a doorway. The air is thin, and you have to be far down because you can feel the heavy pressure in the fluid of your ears. Though you aren’t in chains, it feels oppressive, like you had been thrown in a prison cell and forgotten about.

At least Nesta’s still out cold. You wince at yourself for the thought, but honestly, you wouldn’t be able to think straight if she was hissing comments at you. In the sliver of light, you can see that she seems uninjured, as are you, and her breathing is steady, like she’d been knocked out without a fight. Sometime soon, you’ll need her up (unconscious, she’s a liability), but for as long as you can, you’ll take the drip-drip-drip through the walls as your only company.

The first thing you need to do is let Az know you’re awake, to try and see if he’s close by or if he needs help. You pull on the mating bon—

The mating bond.

You can’t—you can’t feel it. Another wave of nausea washes over you as you bolt up from the ground. The thread between the two of you, this new, wonderful, golden string which calls you to him time and time again, the Mother’s blessing which binds you together, it’s slack in your chest. Still there, thank the gods, but… useless. You can’t feel him anymore. Not even the little bits he sends you every now and then, when Cassian makes him laugh or he sees something that reminds him of you. It’s all gone. Like losing a limb.

You press your back against the cool stone of the room and remember to breathe. Force yourself to feel the rock beneath your feet, to focus, to think. 

Azriel, you know, you trust, will be okay. He has to be. Maybe he’s disorientated like you are, being held somewhere, either in Cassian’s company or without it. Maybe he’s already escaped and is coming to find you right now. Or maybe, you’ll need to find him. Regardless, you can’t afford to panic. Not now. Az wouldn’t panic; he’d find a way out, and you and him, you’re Cauldron-chosen mates, so you can find a way out too. You can get back to him.

You will get back to him.

You just need to look around and see—the light. 

They had to have got you two inside this room somehow, so that boulder blocking the doorway has to be moveable. Outside, something is causing that crack of light to come through, there’s a sconce, or a faelight, so there’s a walkway, and a walkway means that there’s some other rooms in here, connected by a complex of passageways. And passageways mean a way out. 

You need that boulder gone.

If you had your full arsenal of magic at your disposal, it would be simple. You could bolster your muscles and push it out of the way without breaking a sweat, but even as you walk towards it, you can feel how your legs drag and your vision blurs. Every joint feels like it’s grown rust, grinding uncomfortably across your bones. The poison in your system remains. Still, you try. Still, you steel yourself in case someone is waiting for you behind it and you need to take them on.

The rough stone cuts into your palms as you use every drop of energy you have left in you to push at it, to try to roll it one way or the other, but it doesn’t so much as budge an inch. In frustration, you kick at it, ram your shoulder into it and send shooting pain up your arm, but still, it doesn’t yield. 

You’ve been defeated by a hunk of fucking rock. So, yeah, you have to laugh.

Alone, there’s no chance of you moving it, not while you’re still affected by whatever they put in your food. You can either wait for gods know how long for it wear off, or…

You flick your attention to Nesta, half-slumped against the wall, and you sigh. 

For all your differences, you respect Nesta. You like her tenacity, the way she moves with such precision in the training ring, how she stands up for herself and her friends regardless of who it is she’s challenging (the first time you saw her go toe-to-toe with Rhys, you had almost wanted to cheer for her). Sometimes, you think that if you hadn’t gotten off on the wrong foot, you and her would get along just fine—for your love of dance if nothing else. More importantly, she’s your only hope of getting out of here on your own terms.

Muscles protesting every movement, you crouch down and nudge at her side. She doesn’t stir. You nudge harder and her eyes shutter. She mutters something you don’t catch under her breath. 

Oh, fuck it. 

You shake her shoulder more harshly than you need to and yell at her to wake up. Her eyes flick open with a start, and you have to catch her hand before her fist connects with your jaw.

“Relax,” you say as she struggles in your grip, “it’s me. Could you please not break my face?”

“No promises,” she snaps back, wrenching her wrist away from you, rubbing at where you were holding her. She opens her mouth again, probably to sneer something at you, when you see the words die in her throat as she pales, clutching at her chest. “Something is wrong,” she grates out. “What the hell did you do—?”

You roll your eyes as you pull away, settling yourself on the ground a little ways from her in case she actually does decide to break your face. 

“Cauldron, Nesta,” you say, “I didn’t do anything. It’s whatever they drugged us with. It’s dulling our magic, including the mating bond.” You tap where you feel the Azriel-shaped hole in your chest. “Must be some faebane alternative we’ll have to deal with.”

This seems to calm her burgeoning fear, but if looks could kill, you’d be dead. “How are you so calm about this?” she asks, murmuring something else which sounds distinctly insulting as she plucks herself off the ground and follows the stream of light to the doorway.

“Panic gets you killed,” you say, watching her come to the same conclusion you did as she pokes at the gap in the wall.

“Yeah,” she scoffs, “Az says the same.”

“It’s almost like we’re mates or something.”

“Almost.”

Though the bond might be dulled, your instincts flare at the insinuation before you tamp it down and keep your face carefully neutral. Again, even in the dark, you can tell she shoots you a glare. 

“Instead of doing something, you had to come and wake me up?” she continues, beginning to push at the boulder as your anger simmers in your blood. The audacity to suggest that you hadn’t tried… she’s something else.

“Would you have preferred it if I had left you behind?” you fire back, pulling yourself up and over to her, stopping just short of too close. “I already tried moving it and it won’t budge, not while we’re still weak. We’ll probably have to try it together—”

She cuts you off abruptly and goes back to the boulder. “I don’t need your help.”

Ignoring her, you barely lay a finger on the stone before she yanks you away and snarls at you to, “Back off.” 

Incredulous, you huff, but you relent, leaning against the wall as you watch her fail to get it to move, just like you did. After significantly less prodding than what you tried, she admits defeat and swears at the rock for being in the way without sparing you a glance.

A thousand snarky comments come to mind, including around nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine which include the phrase ‘I told you so’, but you refrain. Pissing her off even more doesn’t seem conducive to getting out of this cell, so you say, “Look, Nesta, I get that you don’t like me—”

“Understatement.”

“Fine,” you continue, “you really don’t like me. And while I don’t understand why, I do need you to get out of here and as much as you might hate to admit it to yourself, you need me too, so let’s just put our differences aside and…” you trail off as her face sours. “What?”

“You don’t understand why,” she says.

“We really don’t have time to get into it, Nesta.”

“Don’t we?” she asks harshly. “That rock is hardly going anywhere.”

Clearly, she’s up for an argument—maybe that’s how she blows off steam when Cassian isn’t around—but you most definitely aren’t.

“Neither are we if we don’t stop bickering,” you reply steadily.

She narrows her eyes at you. “Oh, you always have something clever to say, don’t you?” Your name slips from her mouth like a curse. “Az caught himself a real prize with you.”

Is that what this is all about? You and Az? You know Az and Nesta are good friends, or, at least, they used to be, and she would obviously want him to be happy with whoever he’s with, mate or not. But, as far as you know, he is happy, and you trust him to tell you when he’s bothered by something. Frankly, whatever Nesta thinks about your relationship is irrelevant, even if it stings a little not to be accepted by her. 

“Take it up with the Mother, Nesta,” you say, increasingly irritated, “but after we get the fuck out of here, please.”

“You really don’t get it, do you?” she snaps back. 

You roll your eyes. “Please. Let’s not.” There’s no warning in your tone, so she ploughs on.

“Az was fine before he met you.” He wasn’t, he was drowning himself in work and booze after the Solstice with Elain, but that’s his secret to tell. “My sister was fine before he met you.” 

“Gods, what does Elain have to do with this?”

“Don’t say her name like that—!”

“Why not?” you say, your anger bubbling to the surface finally as your patience snaps. “She’s my friend, you know, but I doubt she’d have told you that considering the fact you never see her. When was the last time you even stepped foot in the townhouse?” You know it’s unfair, you know Nesta can’t get down from the House of Wind without Cassian or exhausting herself on the steps, but you’re past the point of caring. 

When she doesn’t respond, you double down. “Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it, Nesta.”

To her credit, Nesta’s response hurts more than you were expecting it to. “I don’t need her to tell me,” she snarls, “if I were her, I’d resent you too.”

Scoffing, you drawl, “Oh, and why’s that?” but you feel the doubt creeping up on you like a wraith. 

Az had told you about what he had felt for Elain and how close they had been to getting together. For a time, you had agonised over it. It didn’t seem right to you that they had been prevented from acting on their feelings, even if it worked out for you in the end, and you had always thought, despite Az insisting otherwise, that Elain might not like you because of that. But, she had been perfectly pleasant the first time you met, and you managed to break the ice with a joke about flowers (it was rather specific and no one but Elain had appreciated it). From there, you’d become fast friends.

But if Elain is just humouring you like you suspected she might…

“Because,” Nesta says, “you stole Az from her. They were close, did you know? Even Feyre thought they were good for one another. But you come along and what’s worse, you rub it in by trying to spend time with her.”

“Heaven forbid I actually enjoy Elain’s company,” you say, though it comes out significantly less venomous than you meant it to. “Did she tell you all that herself or are you pulling it out of your ass?”

“You’ve got her fooled, I’ll give you that much,” she replies. She lets out a humourless laugh. “She even thinks you and Az are perfect together, but I see what you’re doing loud and clear.”

You blink at her.

Inexplicably, it isn’t annoyance which washes over you, it’s understanding. It becomes obvious to you now, despite what Nesta is saying, why she doesn’t like you. 

Of course.

She’s trying to look after her sister, and even at your own expense, you can’t help but admire her for it. Maybe if she actually talked to Elain about you, you could end your petty, little feud. Or maybe she’d just find another reason to dislike you. 

Either way, it won’t matter if you kill each other in this cave.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh. “Nesta, I really have tried to be nice to you. If you don’t like me, that’s fine, we don’t need to be friends. But I didn’t steal anyone from anyone, Az made his choices and I made mine, and I really do like being Elain’s friend. I’m sorry if I’ve somehow offended you or… I don’t know. Just, I’d like us both to get out of here, alive, preferably, and for that, I need your help. So, please, if you have to, pretend I’m someone else for a bit and then I promise I will never bother you again. Deal?”

For a long, long moment, she says absolutely nothing at all, as though she’s trying to work out if you’re being genuine or not, and the silence stretches over the space between you. Then she looks away, sets her jaw, and grumbles, “Just help me move this.”

“Gladly.”

It takes coordination, begrudgingly followed suggestions for which way to push and for how long, and the poison in your veins brings bouts of dizziness which means both of you need a break, but, eventually, the boulder moves, just a fraction. The beam of light at your feet grows. Again and again and again, you and Nesta use every ounce of energy you have left to get it out of your way. You just hope that whoever is keeping you here isn’t nearby, because the scraping of rock against stone is almost deafeningly loud.

You don’t know if it takes minutes or hours, but you get it so the two of you can see into the corridor, and then you open up the doorway enough for you to be able to squeeze through the gap. The jagged, black stone scrapes at your skin as you shuffle and you definitely pick up a few new scratches, but you suddenly find yourself in the middle of an uneven walkway, filling your lungs with air fresher than what you’ve had since you woke up.

You take it in greedily, looking around to see if there’s an obvious way out, but both in front and behind you look the same. An endless tunnel of stone, equally lit up by torches protruding from the walls. You wait a moment, trying to feel any sort of breeze or even trying to pick up faint sounds of people.

Nothing.

Inside the cell, Nesta says your name rather urgently. You peer at her through the gap and see a flicker of relief on her face before it’s gone.

With a different angle, you wordlessly make quick work of moving the boulder further, and Nesta manages to free herself not long after. All the while, a sense of foreboding settles over you. The lack of a guard, even a patrol, is starting to strike you as odd.

“Come on,” she says, making left—it’s as good a direction as any—but you stop her.

“Wait,” you say, “doesn’t this all seem strange to you?” You make a point of looking behind you and gesture around. “There’s no one here.”

“Good,” she replies, “maybe they’ve forgotten about us. Let’s go.” And she strides off, forcing you to follow behind her, shadows dancing with each other in the torchlight.

“Or maybe they haven’t,” you urge, catching up to her, “maybe they’re waiting for us somewhere. Or they’re trying to lure Az and Cassian down here and it’s a trap.” That makes her pause and look at you, considering sharply. “We should try and stay as hidden as possible,” you suggest, “keep to the shadows rather than storming down the middle of the corridor.”

She barks a laugh. “Are you doing that on purpose?”

You frown. “Doing what?”

“Saying what Azriel says. If I had a mark for every time he’s said the words ‘keep to the shadows’...” she trails off, shaking her head.

“I’m not—just—” you sigh, “—let’s just be careful, okay?”

She steps very slightly closer to the wall, further into what little shadow the torches are casting over the rock, and keeps going, so you follow her through the twists and turns of the cave system, hoping you’ve picked the right way. Every corner looks the same, your footsteps sound the same, the cadence of Nesta’s breathing is monotonous and steady. It feels like you’re going around in circles.

But you aren’t. You can feel the slight lightening of pressure in your sinuses, how the ground ever so slightly tips upwards. You even start to feel like you might be getting out of here without meeting a single obstacle.

And that’s when you reach a dead-end.

A mockingly sheer column of rock with a gap right at the top, where you can see a coiled up rope which is almost certainly used to manoeuvre up and down. Through the gap, you see beautiful, white light, and you reason that this must be some kind of exit. 

“Come on,” you say to Nesta, steadying yourself against the wall, “I’ll boost you up and then you throw the rope down for me.”

She looks at you incredulously. “That must be fifteen feet high at least,” she says. “There’s no way you’re getting me up there.”

As ever, you are entirely unimpressed by Nesta’s doubt. “I’m stronger than I look. And unless you have another idea…?”

Despite her general lack of faith in you, Nesta doesn’t even try and contemplate a different option; she knows as well as you do that there isn’t one. You cup your hands in front of you and bend your knees as Nesta tentatively uses you as a step-up. 

“Ready?” you ask.

She hesitates, peering down at you. “For what?”

“Just get ready to grab the ledge.”

Without warning, you toss her upwards, putting all your strength into getting her as high as possible, and she lets out a grunt as she manages to grab hold of the edge of the lip above you. For a moment, you think she might not be able to hold on—she sways and shakes, probably due to the poison still sapping your energy—but she eventually hauls herself up and disappears out of view.

Then you wait. It can’t be for more than thirty seconds, but as they tick by, your anxiety starts to spike. What if she just leaves you here? What if she takes her opportunity to get rid of you just so Elain can have Azriel? As much as you like Elain, the idea of anyone else having him sends shooting rage through your nerves, even with the bond absent in your chest. It’s a natural instinct, but before you can spiral—“Mind your head,” comes the call and down comes the rope, thick, old, and covered in dirt, but it’ll do. You make quick work of it, despite your screaming muscles, and join Nesta at the top.

You want to ask her what took her so long, but peering through the gap where the light comes through, it becomes quite obvious.

Illuminated by a great cut-out in the ceiling of the cave, covered in mosses and deep green hanging vines, is a lake nearly three-times the width of the Sidra. The water is startlingly blue, clear, and it looks deceptively shallow, but you’ve seen lakes like this before. They tend to go down so deep the pressure would kill you before you reached the bottom.

What’s worse, on the other side of the lake is an Illyrian encampment, populated by at least six warriors, maybe more you can’t even see, armed to the teeth and evidently waiting for something to happen. You can see them talking to one another, but what they’re saying is lost under the sound of running water coming from the cascade on the far side of the lake. 

Thankfully, the two of you are hidden in darkness under an outcrop. Perhaps if Nesta had taken you right when you got out of your cell, you would have ended up on the other side, right in the middle of your captors’ base. Either way, it looks like the only way out of this is in a fight.

“How long can you hold your breath for?” you ask Nesta, calculating roughly how far you’ll need to swim under the surface so the Illyrians don’t detect you. Without weapons, you’ll need the element of surprise to disarm them, and from there, well, you’ve seen Nesta spar with Cassian. It’ll be easy. By the side of you, however, she is almost eerily still. “Nesta?” you say, turning to her.

You expect her to be watching the Illyrians, maybe lost in thought about how to take them out, but you’re wrong. She’s staring down into the water, unfocused and unblinking. She almost looks frightened?

The thought occurs to you that Nesta might not know how to swim. Then, something Az said to you when you first met both her and Elain hits you. He told you to be careful mentioning the Cauldron, that, understandably, they don’t like thinking about it and suddenly everything clicks. Nesta doesn’t like water, doesn’t like being submerged in it, because it reminds her of being inside the Cauldron. Maybe something else too. She’s been through a lot, as Az tells you. In your chest, your heart lurches, not with pity, but perhaps with a profound feeling of sadness for her. 

“Nesta,” you say lowly. You aren’t about to coddle her, she doesn’t need that, wouldn’t want it anyway. You wouldn’t either. She flicks her gaze over to you, but it’s clear she’s still not all here. “I have a theory,” you continue, and you explain that there must be another passage to your cell, probably in the opposite direction to the one you took. As you talk, you see her eyes sharpen, not so dull, and she actually starts listening to you. “If you can distract some of them and lead them back to our cell, I can swim over and take out as many as possible while you keep them occupied.” It’s the only thing you can think of to keep her out of the water. “We can meet up over there once you’re done.”

Whether she appreciates it or not, you can’t tell, but she looks you over, then to the Illyrians, and says, a little hoarsely, “Get under the water. I’ll draw their attention away.” You nod, kicking off your shoes as you go to lower yourself in as quietly as possible, but she grabs your wrist and stops you. Her grip is firm, but not violent. “Be careful,” she says, and without waiting for a reply, she lets go. “Go on then.”

Glancing at the lake, you take a moment, and lower yourself in slowly.

The water is freezing cold and you swallow a gasp as you enter. Pushing through the pain, with one last fleeting look at Nesta, you take a deep breath, dip your head under the water, and start to swim. You just have to trust now that Nesta holds up her end of the plan.

You try to take the shortest, most direct route possible without getting spotted, but your lungs are burning and without your magic to help, you start to think that maybe you won’t be able to make it without coming up for air. The waterfall isn’t so far away from you and the running water might conceal you just enough to allow you to breathe for a moment. It’s your only shot, so you go for it.

The strength of the water batters you, but the first, quiet hit of fresh air is enough to make it inconsequential to you. For as long as you can chance it, you take it in, and push your luck by looking over at the encampment. From here, it’s difficult to see, but you think you count two males, looking around nervously, and you swear you can hear shouting from down one of the corridors. Seems like Nesta managed her distraction well.

Enough. You dive back under and move as fast as you can, ignoring how much of a struggle it is. You have to do this, you have to get out of here. You have to get back to Azriel. And, godsdamn you, you want to see Nesta get back to Cassian.

Your hands hit the other side of the lake before you realise it, and, as silently as possible, you emerge from the surface. Still, there are only two males in the encampment, and you definitely weren’t imagining the shouting. Here, it’s louder, and you can make out male voices, obviously irate. The two other Illyrians watch the alcove closely, not even whispering a word to each other.

One of them is older. He’s bigger and has more siphons, but he’s no commander; you’d guess he’s an Oristian just by the way he holds himself. You can feel his ego from here. The other one is younger, barely out of training. He fidgets with his armour and his weapons, his leg bouncing where he sits on a rock and pays so much attention to the alcove that he isn’t looking where he clearly is supposed to be: right at you.

You pull yourself out of the water with natural grace and drop immediately into a crouch, blending in with a darkness. Your wet clothes are making the cold seep into your skin, but you need all the protection you can get and the padding around your joints might be enough to buy you some time if things go wrong. 

The Illyrians are too close together, sitting around a central opening where the vestiges of a fire lay. Though you’re strong, there’s no way you can take them out hand-to-hand if it’s two against one. You’re trained in combat, but mostly for swords and daggers. You need another distraction, and, as you shift your feet to try and get a better view, you get one.

You kick a pebble and, thinking quickly, you snatch it from the ground before it can hit something that will draw their eye to you. You weigh it in your hand. If you want it to make an impression, you need it to hit something away from the water, so the sound of the waterfall doesn’t mask it. 

You catch something glinting in the corner of your vision. In the exposing light, a shield is propped up against a nearly empty weapons rack. Briefly, you consider making a rush for it, thinking a shield is better than no weapon at all, but you know that’s even more of a long shot than trying to take them out quietly.

So, you opt to aim for the shield, and as the pebble flies, you know you’ll reach your target.

A clang sounds out through the atrium and the two Illyrians startle out of their trances. The older one barks an order for the younger one to check what the disturbance is, then berates him for being a coward when he hesitates. You wait impatiently for there to be enough distance between them, then you strike.

You dash behind the bigger Illyrian, keeping to the shadows, and as soon as you can, you pounce. You wrap your arm around his neck, pulling him back and behind the rock he was sitting on, keeping him as out of view as possible in case the kid decides to turn around. He kicks, attempting to buck his hips and flap his wings to get you off him, but you’ve got him so firmly held that there is no chance of him overpowering you like this. Your hand closes over his mouth to stop him shouting, and you choke the air out of his lungs silently. Not to kill him, just to knock him out. Snapping his neck would take more force and compromise your position, so you settle for his unconsciousness and lower him to the ground.

Concealed behind the rock, when the other Illyrian turns, he sees no one. His following shout tells you he’s panicked, and you wait for him to come to you. He stands in the middle of the encampment, turning around, scanning for threats, and you quietly unsheathe the sword that the older Illyrian had strapped to his back. 

Sharp, Illyrian steel. You smile faintly. You and Az have sparred with these so often that it feels like an extension of your arm as you hold it.

You wait for the remaining Illyrian to be facing away from you and, when the time is right, spring up from behind the rock. Your blade meets the back of his neck before he even knows you’re there, and he immediately stills as you press it against his skin and blood wells at the edge. In the meantime, the shouting down in the alcove behind you has stopped, and you hope that means Nesta has dealt with the others.

“Throw your weapons away from you,” you say calmly. He does as he’s told without complaint, unsheathing even a hidden dagger in his boot. Smart male. “Turn around slowly.” Again, he does what you say, but you keep your blade at his neck and maintain a healthy enough distance from him. 

He stares down at you uncertainly, his hands away from his sides, and gulps as you assess him. Typically Illyrian, he has dark hair, tan skin, and brown eyes which betray his fear. A fully fledged warrior would have tried to disarm you by now, and, as a result, would likely be dead. This one seems to have more sense.

“Your name,” you say. Statement, not a question.

“Wilsen,” he supplies quietly, uncomfortably shifting as your sword remains firm at his throat.

“Why are you keeping us here, Wilsen?”

When he hesitates to respond, you press the blade against him and he grimaces. “I have orders,” he says, a little frantically, “that’s all I know. I swear it.”

It’s moments like these when you wish you had Az’s shadows whispering in your ear, telling you truth from falsehood, divining someone’s character. Ultimately, you have to rely on your gut feeling, and it’s telling you that Wilsen is lying.

You bring the tip of the blade to the underside of his jaw, cutting a fine line through the skin of his neck. “Try again,” you say. “Think more carefully about your answer this time.”

As he deliberates, the strangest feeling flows through you. Your magic, sputtering in your veins as it tries to come alive again, fighting against the poison. Hurriedly, you try to yank on the mating bond, but it still lies dormant under your ribcage, and it’s this fleeting moment where you lose your focus that you blame when you fail to notice Wilsen’s eyes flick to just above your shoulder.

A thick, calloused hand clamps over your mouth, another squeezes your throat as you’re dragged backwards. Instincts kicking in, you try to twist, to pull the hands away, but they just tighten their grip as you flail. The blade in your hand hits something, maybe Wilsen’s neck, as you’re forced to let go of it in the scuffle, but you’re too blinded by the pain to care. 

Some unseen Illyrian, maybe an escapee of Nesta’s wrath, has you trapped against him. You try to reach up to scratch at his face to get him to release you, but all you can feel is the heave of his chest as he laughs and wrestles your hand out of his sight, freeing your mouth. He’s choking the life out of you to the point where all you can do is gargle and thrash, to try and somehow get out of his hold.

Even the smallest bit of your replenishing magic seems to do nothing. You try fortifying your muscles, try directing some of it to weaken his, but to no avail. 

You come to the conclusion that, as your vision starts to blur and darken, you’re dying, and this Illyrian is enjoying it. You fight, scratch at his arm, but that only seems to egg him on, to draw it out. He’s not even taunting you, not in any way you can make sense of, he’s just amusing himself in the brutality of it. 

Your teeth feel like they’re fizzling. You can’t feel your body anymore, you’re weightless, outside of the bounds of reality where all that exists is the immense pressure on your neck and oh gods this is it, you’re dying you’re dying you’re dying and you’ll never see Az again—

Suddenly, the feeling stops. 

You must be dead, you think. 

It’s funny, though, you can still see, and there’s this throbbing in your temples. Dead people don’t get headaches, do they? How awful. You can’t escape migraines, even in the afterlife.

The Illyrian behind you (oh, he’s still here?) lists backwards, and it’s only logical that you tumble with him, but, for some reason, you don’t. Instead, there’s something keeping you standing, gentle, tender heat around your middle and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say there’s someone saying your name.

“Breathe,” they say, and then your name again. There’s something so familiar about it and—you can breathe.

Desperately, you gasp in air, your brain aching after being starved of it, but you take in too much and start to cough so much that your eyes water, pulling out of this person’s grip and doubling over. Again comes a gentle touch, this one at your back, as you feel like you’re hurling up a lung. Again comes the reminder to just breathe, and you do. Your coughing stops and…

You whirl around, meeting Nesta’s sharp eyes as she steps away from you. In her hand is a sword, slick with red which drips to the floor, and behind her, a dead Illyrian lying in a pool of his own blood.

You open your mouth, then snap it shut. 

Nesta Archeron just saved your life.

“Thank you,” you manage to wheeze out, the words catching in your throat as you struggle to regulate your breathing.

A muscle ticks in her jaw. “I’m not about to let some lowlife choke out Azriel’s mate,” she says pointedly, casting a dismissive look over to the dead Illyrian, “and you’d have done the same, if it were me.”

You would have, you just didn’t think Nesta would be the one to say it. 

She looks you up and down from your dripping hair to your crumpled clothes. “You look like a drowned rat.”

Just as you go to respond, you get interrupted by a low groan of pain, and you see that Wilsen is still alive, just bleeding profusely from his shoulder. So you did catch him in the crossfire. Nesta advances on him so quickly that you barely have chance to shout for her to stop. 

“He knows something,” you say, moving towards her gingerly, stepping over the Illyrian who tried to kill you without sparing him a second glance, wincing as you try to move your neck. “I was interrogating him before I got interrupted.”

“I don’t know—!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Nesta snarls at him before turning back to you. “You were interrogating him?”

You hum confirmation, the sound scratching at your throat. “With a sword.”.

She just looks at you. “Of course you were,” she mumbles, “Az’ll be so proud.”

“Cassian will probably pounce on you as soon as he finds out you took on three fully-grown Illyrians with your bare hands,” you reply, offering her a sly smile which almost feels normal.

And Nesta, to your surprise, laughs. A real, genuine, contagious laugh which rings through the atrium, and you find yourself chuckling along with her. 

“Neither of us are getting much sleep for a week,” she says, adding with a gesture to her blade, “and I caught the last one with this actually.”

You let out a giggle. “That’ll definitely get Cassian going—”

“Oh you’re both whor—”

“Shut the fuck up!” you and Nesta spit at Wilsen in unison, before you whip your gazes up in shock to look at each other.

And you both burst out laughing again.

It’s nice. You don’t think you’ve seen Nesta laugh so much in your presence ever. Maybe you’re delirious from the air loss, but you’d go as far to say you’re enjoying her company, and by the look of it, she might feel the same.

Still, you have Wilsen to deal with.

Once your bout of laughter dies down and you can breathe normally again, you peer down at him as he looks up at you. He looks quite deathly pale. Nesta steps aside, her face darkening, as you crouch down next to him, hand on the wound at his shoulder, but not pressing down, not to cause him pain. Not yet.

Azriel will provide that afterwards in any case.

“Do you know the way out of here, Wilsen?” you ask. Even though you can feel yourself slowly regaining your magic, the mating bond has still not burst back to life. You guess Nesta’s hasn’t either, considering how attentively she’s paying attention to the two of you. 

He swallows thickly, eyes you warily. When he takes a second too long to answer, you push two fingers down, right on his shoulder blade. It won’t kill him, but it’s not going to feel like a warm hug from his mother either. He yelps in pain while his blood seeps onto your hand. ���Fuck, it’s—” he sucks in a breath as you release him, “—there’s only one way.” His eyes flick to the cut-out in the roof of the cave, right above the middle of the lake, and Nesta follows his gaze carefully. Just barely, you catch her flinch. “And unless you can sprout wings…”

You pull away, letting him sag into his body. Even if the vines growing down the hole can take your weight, and by the look of them, they might, you still need to get to them. You hope Nesta is coming to the same conclusion you are. When Wilsen says there’s only one way out, he means it, and it means you’re going to have to give her a very, very quick swimming lesson, if she can stomach it.

“Why did you bring us here?” she asks suddenly, aiming her question at Wilsen. 

A ragged sigh escapes him. “Give me something in return,” he says, his spit gurgling in his mouth as he talks. You’ve seen this before. He doesn’t have long.

“Tell us and you might live to see tomorrow,” you say hurriedly. 

He has the energy to scoff. “So your mate can torture me in his dungeons? No. I’d rather die,” he grits out, shifting on the floor, his arm deadweight against the ground.

“You’d rather bleed out here than have a chance at surviving?” Nesta asks, her tone increasingly agitated. She starts to say something else, but you motion for her to calm herself, and she does, all the while giving you a look as if to say Do you even have a plan?

You turn back to Wilsen, bracing your forearms on your knees. “You have family?” you say quietly, and the ensuing rage which comes over his face tells you that yes, he does. “If you die here, Wilsen,” you continue, your voice soft, “my mate will find every male in that family of yours and he will ask the question you refused to answer. If they don’t know, he’ll move onto the females. Your wife, sister, mother, whoever. And if they don’t know, he will go through Stonecross, Illyrian by Illyrian, until someone tells him what he wants to know. And if he does that, he’ll be sure to let everyone know it’s because you, Wilsen, did not give us an answer right here, right now. So, this is what I’ll offer you: not just your life, but the lives and dignity of everyone you care about. Happily, I’ll let you die, but how happy that would make them? I’m not so sure, are you?” 

Only the sound of the waterfall behind you lets you know time hasn’t stopped. Even Nesta’s breathing is so silent you can barely hear it, but you can feel her eyes on you. Wilsen is deathly still. You get the distinct feeling that if he wasn’t bleeding out, he’d have his hand wrapped around your neck. “Your choice,” you finish with a shrug.

His words are vitriolic. “You were supposed to die down there, you fucking bitch. Nothing more than motivation for the General and your mate to make a mistake. So you’d all finally understand how it feels to get kicked when you’re down,” he spits, but his voice shakes. Scared, or struggling to stay awake? Does it matter? Either way, you think he’s telling the truth.

“Seems a convoluted way to kill someone.” Nesta’s voice sounds more distant in the quiet. 

Wilsen shoots her a glare, from which she doesn’t baulk. “They were supposed to find you. It was supposed to hurt. We were going to take them on once they had. Make them pay.”

“They’d have torn through you,” she says. “You never would have made it out of here anyway.”

“It’s better to die standing than on our knees in front of a half-breed High Lord and his bastard brothers.” He starts to cough, like breathing might have become difficult.

“You’re dying, Wilsen,” you say, moving towards him to put pressure on the wound, but his hand shoots out to stop you and he shakes his head.

“Let me,” he snarls. “I gave you what you wanted, so let me die.”

“I can stop the bleeding,” you reply. It’s a strange kind of sorrow you feel for him. Dying alone, surrounded by people you hate, is no way to go, not even for males like him. He’s still young, still impressionable. Entrenched nonetheless. Someone will have to tell that family of his what he was willing to die for.

He winces, struggling to keep himself upright. “Don’t put your fucking hands on me.”

Nesta says your name and breaks you from your thoughts. “Leave him,” she says, “he doesn’t deserve your pity.”

You sigh and stand. As you do, you see relief flicker over Wilsen’s face before pain takes back over. If you offer him a quicker death, you’re not sure he’ll take it, so you don’t offer at all. 

“You’re sort of terrifying, you know,” Nesta adds, flicking her eyes from the lake and back to you. In her eyes, though, you don’t see fear. You see it in the way she assesses you, in how she holds her head. You’ve earnt her respect. 

Attention on your exit, you huff out a shaky laugh, eager to stop thinking of the dying Illyrian behind you. “That’s rich coming from you,” you say. When she frowns at you, you continue, “They call you ‘Lady Death’. You don’t get that name by preaching peace and love.”

“And what do you call me?” she asks, edging closer to the water, squinting up at the daylight.

You come to stand next to her. “I should like to call you my friend, Nesta.”

“Don’t push it,” she replies, but you can tell it’s not as serious as she meant it to be. 

“Not enemies then?” you suggest.

“If we get out of here without drowning,” she says, dipping her hand into the water and immediately pulling it back out again, “I’ll consider it.”

You offer her a small smile, seeing that for the olive branch that it is. “Good enough for me,” you say. “You know how to swim?”

She nods, but seems uncertain. “I can float well enough.”

“But, you don’t like water?” you ask tentatively. When she narrows her eyes at you, you hold your hands up in surrender. “Not judging. I don’t like heights.”

“Az takes you flying all of the time,” she deadpans, decidedly unimpressed.

You shrug. “He’s helping me get over it.” With a grimace, you add for her benefit, “It’s slow going.” 

Having only just managed to regain any sort of heat in your body, you’d hesitate to get back in freezing cold water, but with your magic not materialising any further than a few sputters in your veins, your conviction is all you have to get you through it. That, and the need to help Nesta out of here too. You crouch down.

“This is ridiculous,” she says, crouching with you.

Your eyes flick to the sword still in her hand. “You’ll have to leave that behind. When you get in, try not to panic. Your body will go into cold water shock if you do. It’s mind over matter, and once you’re used to it, you’ll be fine.”

“That,” she says, her voice dropping into something near enough trepidation, “doesn’t fill me with confidence.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you, Nesta. Just… trust me.”

With that, you push yourself off the edge of the rock and into the water, attempting to acclimate yourself to the temperature as much as possible, fully submerging yourself before you resurface, treading water with relative ease. You take deep breaths and stave off the biting cold, trying to show her that if you can do it, she can too. 

“Come on,” you urge, aware that even though you’re resilient, you can’t take much longer than ten minutes in here. A human would barely last five. “It’s not that far to the vines, and then we’re out of here.”

Laying the sword carefully down at her side, Nesta scans the water, as though she might be able to discern which parts are cold and which are tolerable, with little success, if the face she makes is anything to go by. You watch her take a few breaths, shut her eyes, and mutter something which might even be a prayer, or else a curse on your name if this goes wrong.

Then she jumps, feet first, into the lake.

You wait with bated breath for her to come back up, and for a few sickening seconds, you think she might be sinking until—

“Fuck!” she gasps. “That’s freezing.” She’s almost hyperventilating with how quickly her breath is coming. Not good, that’s panic. She needs something to focus on.

“Nesta,” you say urgently, wading over to her, “look at me.” With difficulty, she does. “You remember what I said before?”

Gaping, she nods.

“What did I say?”

“Try not to panic,” she says slowly.

“Right. What else?

As she thinks, her breathing starts to even out. “It’s not far to the vines.”

“Exactly,” you tell her, “we’re almost there.”

Thank the Mother, the gods, and anyone else who deigns to help you, Nesta starts to swim, and you let her get ahead of you just in case she needs you to support her. It’s tough and you are pushing with all your might to stay afloat, to make it to the first vine you see. 

Nesta grabs it and pulls herself out of the water, trusting that it can take her weight. The plant is thick and woody, so it does. She looks down at you, still in the lake, but you tell her to get out and up as soon as she can.

You find another, slightly thinner, but still strong enough to hold you. Your arms ache and your shoulders are screaming at you. You push and push and push, one thought in your mind: Get out. Get out. Get out. 

The vine seems to be getting higher the more you climb, like it’s growing faster than you can move, but you’re almost at the top. Just a little further.

Nesta, she’s somewhere, maybe above you, but you can’t hear her grunting as she hauls herself up anymore. You chance a look down and she’s not there either. You figure she must have made it out.

You’re so close. You can feel the sun on your face, can smell the fresh breeze of the outside. It must have been hours since you woke in that cell. Honestly, you’re not sure how long you’ve been gone. Maybe days. Gods, you’re so tired. The cold has sapped the adrenaline out of you and you’re running on fumes. 

The next hold you find on the vine snaps and you lurch to the side, yelling as you find purchase on a knot lower down. As you catch yourself, you force your ankle into a twist and something twinges. 

You hear Nesta swear faintly. You pull yourself in, steadying yourself, and you look up to see her peering over the side. She’s lying flat on her front, holding onto the edge of the gap. “You’re almost there,” she shouts down, her teeth chattering, her hair hanging loose in long, wet strands.

Every part of your body is telling you to stop, to rest, but you can’t. That’s a death sentence. You test how much weight you can put on your ankle and yelp as pain shoots all the way up your leg, but if you stay here, you’re doomed.

So, you keep going, using your arms to lift yourself up, your uninjured leg to hold yourself in place. Again. And again. And again. You grit your teeth and you lift.

When you’re within reach, Nesta lowers herself down as much as she dares and thrusts out her hand. Blissfully, you grab it as soon as you can. You feel her grip the back of your shirt as she pulls you the rest of the way out of the cave and the two of you roll to the ground, side-by-side, staring up into the cloudless, blue sky, chests heaving.

“Next time we hang out,” you say, breathless, “let’s just get a coffee or something. Go buy a book. Feed the ducks down by the Sidra.”

Nesta scoffs out a half-hysterical laugh. “Deal.”

She sits up and you meet her eyes as she looks down at you. “Your ankle?”

You hum roughly as you try to move it, but that shooting pain hits you again. “Totally fucked,” you say.

“I am not carrying you anywhere.” She looks around. “I don’t even know where we are. It doesn’t look like the Steppes.”

Letting out a sharp hiss as you pull yourself up, you take in your surroundings. “No,” you say, seeing how the snow is thin on the ground and the thick, tall pines of the Illyrian mountains have given way to bushier cedars. If you can find the source of that lake underground, a river or a stream, you can find a village somewhere, even in the middle of this unknown forest. When you were a merc, you did things like this all the time. “We’re further south, I think. Probably closer to the Hewn City than anywhere else.”

“How could you possibly know that?” she asks, frowning at you.

You raise a brow at her. “Observation,” you say simply. “There’ll be a settlement somewhere nearby. Or at least some shelter.”

“You,” she replies, “can’t walk. Not with your ankle like it is.”

“I have high pain tolerance.” 

When you try to stand, Nesta catches your wrist and holds you still. “We should wait for the poison to wear off a little more, then you might be able to do something.”

You shake your head, seeing how high the sun is in the sky. It’s past midday. “We don’t know how long that will take. If there are more Illyrians about, we need to move. I know you took them out down there, but you caught them unaware. We get spotted from the air? We won’t be so lucky. And just because we’re not in the Steppes doesn’t mean it won’t get dangerous come nightfall.”

Though she makes a face, she grits her teeth and gets up. She offers you her hand. “You’re as stubborn as him too.”

You take it gratefully and let her help you up. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” you say as she slips her hand around your back and supports you.

You pick a direction, and with Nesta’s help, you manage to hobble your way to a stream, then a village thankfully not too far from where you were being held. 

By the time the sky darkens and the stars illuminate the snowy ground, you two are in a semi-empty inn, sipping free soup by the fire, courtesy of the owner’s healthy fear of her High Lady and her sister. Nesta, you can tell, feels vaguely uncomfortable about it, and you like her all the more for her humility.

Come midnight, Nesta and you are half-asleep, dozing in the warmth and basking in the easy, quiet conversation you had been having about Sellyn Drake, of all people. When you go to your rooms, she bids you goodnight and you bid her the same. Your head hits the pillow and you’re out. 

You have a dreamless sleep for once.

In the morning, you jolt awake, pain erupting in your chest from the—gods, the mating bond. You desperately tug back, pulling so hard that the thread goes taut, telling Az I’m here! I’m here! Please, for the love of the Mother, please come and get me. Then you bolt out of bed, hop out of your room, and bash on Nesta’s door, calling her name and definitely waking the innkeeper.

Off-balance, you almost fall through her door when she opens it, but she steadies you. She looks like she barely slept, but then, you probably look similar given the day you had yesterday. A few hours isn’t really enough.

“The bond,” you breathe out. She needs no more explanation and you watch her concentrate, obviously calling on Cassian the same way you call on Az. “Is he—?”

“He’s alive,” she says sharply, “but… pained.”

“Shit. He’ll be okay.”

“I know.” But the worry on her face is pressed deep into the furrow of her brow.

“Az,” you say, “he’s on his way.” For good measure, you tug on the bond, now gorgeously back alive, fluttering in your chest, and he responds in kind. 

For a moment, her face lightens a fraction and her eyes flick behind you. 

You feel it then: the cold touch of a shadow wrapping gently around your wrist and, deep in your bones, that old, ancient warmth.

A grin breaks out on your face when you turn, seeing Az appear from shadow in the foyer, just as the innkeeper rounds the corner. She sucks in a breath and swears quietly, frozen in place, her eyes flicking between the three of you warily.

Az, his face carefully controlled, but with a bemused look in his beautiful hazel eyes, smiles at her gently. “Thank you for looking after them,” he says lightly, and you almost melt at the sound. 

You must send that down the bond because something akin to a chuckle skitters back at you.

“O-of course, my Lord.” Her mouth opens and closes a few times. Azriel waits patiently. “I’ll—w-will you be staying for breakfast?”

“No,” you say, “thank you. We’ll be heading off now.”

The innkeep swallows. “Right. Was e-everything to your liking, my lady?” Cautiously, she glances at Nesta, who does her best to soften her face, then back at you.

“Slept like a baby,” you assure her. You nudge Nesta.

“Yes,” she says. “A perfect stay, thank you.”

At that, Az raises a brow at you, more confused at Nesta giving you the time of day than anything else. Long story, you mouth at him.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” the innkeeper says decisively, promptly retreating back downstairs, presumably to cool her nerves.

“Cassian’s fine,” Az says to Nesta as soon as he’s assured it’s just the three of you up here. “He’s being dramatic about it.” Then he catches how you’re keeping your weight off your right leg. “What happened?” he asks darkly, his shadows coalescing around his shoulders.

“Just take us home,” you say, reaching for him. As he wraps an arm around your waist, the other cradling the back of your head, you inhale the scent of fresh, night-chilled mist and cedar, something so uniquely your mate’s that any tension left in your body drains out of you. “I think I want to sleep for a week.”

He huffs, pressing a kiss to your hair. Then, to Nesta, “Are they dead?”

“Difficult to kill a vine,” she deadpans. “I tried to get her to rest, but she’s worse than you. Get me back to Cassian, would you? He’s tugging on the bond like a child.”

His hand leaves your back to grab a hold of her and winnow you all back to Velaris through his shadows, which cling to you, fussing around your ankle like it’s a mortal wound. You barely feel the jump, Azriel making sure to keep you upright when you land on the terrace of the townhouse.

“He’s downstairs,” you hear him say. 

Nesta pauses for a moment, but then the door to the inside clicks, and it’s just you and Az.

“Do I want to know what happened to make Nesta look at you like she might actually like you?” he asks quietly, pulling away so he too can fuss over you.

You kick his shadows away. “I think we’ve come to an understanding,” you say. “Maybe we aren’t friends just yet but, it’s something.”

“...Good.”

Yeah, you think. It is.

[jacaerysgf]

The lady of Volantis | 1k celebration

Summary: Based on a request; You have been betrothed to Jacaerys for years now and you two have never exactly been close. He does not expect to see you anytime soon after your first couple meetings, but when Lucerys trial is happening you are suddenly in the keep. What are you doing there? Are you to be trusted?

w.c: 22.3k (i know... crazy right)

c.w: i will not include any bc they would include major spoilers for this fic,, all ill say is this includes things about Volantis culture, an alternative timeline, inaccurate westerios history, COLD READER and smut (a fair share of it). nothing too dark bc that's just not my style but be warned.

Jacaerys has been betrothed for years now. He has only seen the mysterious lady of volantis a couple times now. When her father answered lord corlys call for help with the stepstones with the terms that corlys offer them something in return. They knew they had nothing that could be even close in value to the mighty powers of volantis but in a desperate effort they offer him, Prince Jacaerys velaryon, heir to the heir. They expect volantis to say no, what good would having good relations with Westeros do, they have control of the largest trades and market in the world.

After no response for a good while they expect them to just have disregarded the letter and have given up. But when one day over 20 sea ships show up the flags of volantis on them and a young girl trails behind her father who introduces himself as the man they were writing to they were over the moon. They had only really got to meet the girl one time before she went off to join the effort in stepstones though she did pop by a few times they were few and far between. Her father had warned them his daughter was a bit cold. He gave no reason as to why she was the way she was other than that was just how she was raised to be.

Jacaerys attempted to play nice with his betrothed but due to her cold, off putting personality nothing truly came from it. Instead all she would do was stand and watch him, barely saying more than a few words to him. Every time was the same routine, she would come and leave, leaving jacaerys to worry for the future. He is well aware most marriages don’t contain any love, but he had atleast hoped the two of them could be friends but it seemed like the lady of Volantis wanted nothing to do with him. He had not expected to see her for many years in the future, For their marriage arrangement is not meant to take place until after rhaenyra ascends the throne.

“it is an honor to see you.” The girl nods, still an ever blank look on her face as she grips a square wooden box in her hand. The queen glances at rhaenyra and daemon who manage to hide their shock at seeing the girl in the keep. “It is a nice surprise to see you again y/n.” Another acknowledging nod is the only thing the younger women does before thrusting her hands that were holding the wooden box towards the queen. Alicent looks at it in shock and hesitantly reaches her hands out and grabs in from her. “A gift.”

Shaky hands slide open the box and a light gasp follows suit. A completely custom cyvasse set sets inside the box, alicents hand reach inside and pick up one of the pieces, the dragon, and brings it closer to her face to admire it. “Hand carved and painted.” She looks back towards the younger girl. Her heart warmed at the gesture. Nobody had gotten her a gift so nice, ever. “This is so lovely.” “I had heard you enjoyed to play.” A small real smile graces alicents face as she lightly nods, “Do you enjoy to play?” “You are asking if a citizen of Volantis enjoys playing cyvasse.”

It was not a question, as volantis was the origin place of cyvasse it should be no question she a member of one of the royal families of volantis would play. Embarrassment fills alicent and she places the piece back in the box swiftly, closing it up and turning away placing it on a table. “Of course my apologizes i have no clue what i was thinking.” She maybe expects some sly comment from the girl or maybe no response at all, maybe her scoffing or tsking but instead when she looks back over she sees the girl bring her head towards the ground and twist her foot as if she was squishing a bug. “I was jesting…”

A simple ahh is all that can escape alicents mouth as she looks away bashfully. She hadn't expected her to be so, kind? maybe that was not the right word and it certainly did not fit the look of the warrior that stood in front of her. Laced in black leather covering even up to her neck down to the soles of her feet. The only color added from the silver chains wrapped around her legs attached to the belt loops on her waist, a sword at her hip so close to her hands she could whip it out in mere seconds, her boots look so heavy like she could squish someone’s skull should she want to.

"ziry iksos unexpected naejot ūndegon ao.” (it is unexpected to see you) A voice cuts through the rooms now awkward air and Alicent just watched as the girls head rises and she's back to standing sharply and coldly as she was mere moments ago. "Skoros issi ao doing kesīr hāedar?” (what are you doing here girl?)

“Iksos ziry pirta hen issa naejot māzigon.” (is it wrong of me to come.) Alicent, though she had no clue what they we’re saying, had never seen someone speak and look at the rouge prince so bravely. If any man we’re in her place they certainly would not even be looking him in the eyes but you do not look at him with fear, if anything you just look at him with annoyance straightening your shoulders and you fold your hands behind you back.

“Skorkydoso gōntan ao gīmigon naejot māzigon?” (how did you know to come?) rhaenyra by his side pinches his torso and tries to shoot him a look but his gaze is locked onto you. All the girl does is shrug and turns her attention back to alicent. Daemon is not dumb. He knows this is all timed too well, arriving to the keep the exact day they arrived here. She must have begun her trip way before they had even received word of the trial. He stares daggers into her but she does not look back towards him, rolling her her neck as alicent attempted to come up with something to say.

“I believe i should attend to some things.” With a bow of her head and a goodbye she grabs the box from the table and before she opens the door she turns back to the younger girl, “We should play.” She does not expect a response from the girl, so when you nods a delighted look graces her face before she turns and leaves. Right as the door closes her face falls as she's greeted by a squire who was sent by her father to grab her, most likely interested in speaking about the volantene girl.

The three stand in silence for a bit. Daemons gaze has no let up and rhaenyra readjusts awkwardly. Despite the fact that she does not wish for him to question her so she has her own curiosities. “I hope you faired well on your trip, you must have been traveling for a long time.” The implications of her words are clear, if the volantene girl is annoyed she does not show it on her face instead she merely blinks a nods. “It was well.” “We have not heard from you since last year, we are merely surprised to see you now of all times.” “i was on my way to visit dragonstone, heard talks of you all traveling here. i came here instead.” You say nothing that is not necessary, no sweet talk no sugar coating just exactly what you are asking no more. Its a believable story if it is to be true, but daemon is still clearly restless. “And what would bring you to dragonstone?”

“I was planned to return back to the fight but i heard what happened to lord corlys, wanted to make a stop at dragonstone before driftmark.” Despite your young age you were more than useful to the effort. You and corlys had even formed a bond, you grew to care for the man and when you left the field for personal affairs you were horrified to hear of his condition. “Have you spoken to rhaenys?” “i am yet to see her.”

Suddenly a guard comes into the room and looks at daemon and rhaenyra. “the king is ready to see you.” The two stand and say their goodbyes to you before they leave. Out in the hallway they discuss to themselves. “Gaomagon ao pendagon issa…?” (Do you think she is..?) Daemon does not look to rhaenyra instead keeping his gaze forward, eyes glazed in though as he clenches his jaw. “daor.” (no) She would not come for no reason. The girl he knew would immediately return back to the battlefield after hearing of corlys absence. It is rather strange for her to instead make the trip here instead.

In another room sits alicent, otto and Vaemond discussing tomorrows trial. “It does not matter if the next heir to driftmark is indebted to us. Not when Rhaenyra's first born son is about to marry into the most powerful family in all of Essos.” Ottos voice cuts Vaemond off quickly. “There is something that can be done.” The two of them look at alicent, “She holds a distain for them i can see it, there is no question. Maybe she can be convinced to,” she trails off looking away, “depart from the betrothal?” “If there was a greater thing she could be offer, im more than sure she would agree.”

“It is a bad idea.” Otto cuts, “If your theory is wrong then you could put all of us at risk.” He shakes his head, “I do not approve.” “I believe it is worth a shot.” Vaemond adds looking to alicent, “She is a tigress, she is easily swayed. They are all the same they wish for war, it is the reason why she is out on the field with my brother. She has no conquest anymore in Volantis.” Vaemond leans forward on the table and looks alicent directly in the eyes, “If there is to be a war. You will not win it with her on their side.”

The sun had finally begun to set but there was no rest for the dark haired prince who stood in the keep library, a maester on the other side of the table watching the young prince struggle to recite the valyrian. “Rūsīr māzigon kustikāne se…” (with hardships come strength and…) He bites his thumb and taps his foot as he thinks. He is sure he remembers the phrase, jacaerys mentally berates himself for being so stupid. He is to be the future king, the heir of the heir, how can he let himself be so careless with his studies. “kivio.” (promise)

The voice behind him causes him to turn around in shock.“syt konīr iksis daor drēje mijegon.” (for there is no true struggle without triumph) Soon enough you are standing in front of him and he gulps. He cannot believe you are here, not expecting to see you for many years from now. He puts a smile on his face all be it a weak one as you just stare at him. “gaomagon ao lo mazeman toliot?” (do you mind if i take over) You address the maester behind him who looks between the two of you nervously before nodding and leaving the room.

The two of you just stare at one another in silence for a bit. He takes this time to admire you, you have not changed much since the last time he saw you. It had been at least a year now since you've visited dragonstone and when he got to see you. Even when you did meet you certainly never met this close anyways he takes this time to admire you fully.

The blemishes on your face, if he looks towards your covered neck he can even see a scar the fades under the fabric, he's curious about it, how did you get it? Did it hurt? When did you get it? He wishes he could ask, too fearful of your reply. He cannot mess this arrangement up. It matters too much to not only his family, but to the safety of the realm and the safety of his mothers claim to the throne. No one would dare mess with the power of volantis and the free cities, he would never be able to forgive himself if he messed up what his family worked so hard to get. Especially since it seemed like you did not care for him much.

“You are still a toddler.” You are the one to break the silent are between them. He flushes with embarrassment and takes a step back, hitting the table lightly. “You’ve merely caught me at a bad moment.” You raise your eyebrows at him, a challenging look. He knows you do not believe him, “You lie to me.” He scratches the back of his neck, You're right. “I would never, my betrothed.” He is embarrassed and he hopes by playing the engagement card you will leave, as you seemingly have no interest in it, so he can wallow in his own humiliation alone. She just stares at him while he cracks a smile at her. He wants them to be civil, for her to atleast like him, he fears that won’t be the case. He sees how happy his mother and daemon are and he feels a pit of dread in his stomach, he wants a life like that. He knows it is rare for marriages in his life to be happy ones but he wants it.

Instead of leaving you simply stare at him for a moment longer, he notices a change in your eyes if it was for a split second before you round the table and eye the book on the table. “it is because you are trying to learn from that stupid book.” “It is a book of the Targaryen history.” She picks up the book and sharply closes it before he can stop stop her, his hand lift hanging in the air as she tosses the book away. “Exactly. Stupid book.” He opens and closes his mouth in an attempt to come up with a retort but he can’t say anything before you speak once more. “lets roleplay.”

If anyone saw you right now they would feel as though they were seeing a stranger. If he were to ask anyone else they would say they’ve never heard you speak as much as you were or even the look on your face, though it does not look too different from your normal one, was an unfamiliar one. He raises his eyebrows at you, “what?” “the best way to learn anything is to practice.” “which is why i was reading from the book.” “The book is nonsense. you will learn nothing from it.” “It is how my mother was taught and my ancestors before me.” “Then they are stupid.” He groans in frustration and looks at her with a blank face. “You do not learn swordsmanship from reading you do not learn how to stitch from reading you learn from real experience.” He cannot say you are wrong.

As he says nothing you continue, “Lets say i am a jewelry shop keeper, and you are a traveler visiting my shop interested in buying something.” she presses her hands against the table and tilts her head at him. “sȳz?” (good?) a chill runs down his spine as she stares at him and a warm feeling fills his stomach. He is so screwed, but he just nods.

“rytsas skorkydoso glaesā tubī?” (hello welcome how are you today?)

“Iksan sȳrī kirimvose” (I am well thank you)

“iksis konīr mirros iksā jurnegēre syt?” (is there something you are looking for?)

You watch him struggle for a moment, unsure if he is trying to decipher your words or if he is trying to figure out what to say. He is shocked you are so patient, simply staring and watching him, not pushing him to answer.

“iā rudhy syt ñuha aderī naejot sagon ābrazȳrys.” (a present for my soon to be wife)

He watches your face change for a split second to one of shock then back down to neutral. With his confidence he takes a moment to admire your gloved hands, covered with rings over the leather. He imagines them running down his chest, running through his hair, maybe gripping on it as he pleasures you in ways hes only ever read about, maybe even wrapped around his-

You snap in his face and his head lifts back to look at you alarmed but your just looking at him blankly. “umbagon lēda nyke.” (stay with me) He would. He will. For as long as you asked him too. You sigh and roll your neck he watches the scar as it shows more of itself before disappearing once more. He shakes his head, he needs to snap out of it, he was being foolish getting lost in his thoughts, and especially since his thoughts were so,,, deplorable. He is thankful you cannot read minds as you would surely slap him across the face and never speak to him again if you knew he was thinking so terribly.

“gaomagon emā mirros qantre jaelā?” (do you have something specific you want?)

you.

“Nyke jaelagon nyke gōntan yn eman daor skoros ziry would hae.” (i wish i did but i have no clue what she would like)

She pauses for a moment and stares at him with narrow eyes. When he says nothing other than shrug she rolls her eyes, turning her head away.

“ābrar hae mirros” (women like anything)

“jaelan naejot jiōragon mirros ziry jorrāelagon” (i want to get something she would love)

“ivestragon nyke nūmāzma zirȳla pār.” (tell me about her then)

“gaoman daor gīmigon olvie yn nyke gīmigon issa kostōba se pazavor, se rovaja run naejot nyke iksis bona issa biare.” (i do not know much but i know she is strong and loyal, the biggest thing to me is that she is happy)

The air between them gets hot and he cant decipher the look in her eyes as she stares at him. He fears he’s upset her. The way her eyes and face remain unmoving or maybe he said the words wrong and she’s misinterpreting what he meant. His eyes stay locked on hers as she trails around the table to be standing right next to him once more. he opens his mouth to apologize but she begins to speak before he can say a word. “gaomagon daor tepagon qrīdrughagon aōha dōna udra sīr easily syt naejot qūvy ilagon se qēlossās se se jēdar syt ao”

His eyes crinkle and she has a content look on her face, seemingly happy he has no clue what she is saying to him. “what did you say?” Its eating at him. unlike when he hears his parents speak he does not mind much when he doesn’t know what they're talking about. even when lucerys is doing better in practice than him he does not mind it much though he grows annoyed at himself. But with you, he needs to know what you’re saying. He is latched onto your every word your every move. It makes himself sick to think about the fact he’s missed something you’ve said with the limited words you ever say. He’s shocked you’ve even talked to him this much today.

She just shakes her head and takes a few steps back. Her stoic nature has returned and she's back to not even looking at him. “It is getting late. You should have dinner.” He looks out the window and is shocked to see the had set and it had begun to rain outside. When did the sun even set? We’re they truly here for so long? He turned back to question her but she was already gone and the book placed back in front of him. The only reason he knows she was ever even here is the faint smell of her perfume in the air. Like a ghost she had up and left. Maybe she was a ghost, or merely a figment of his imagination to toy with him. He takes a couple deep breaths until the lingering smell of her is gone before he picks back up the book and leaves.

He clutches the book tightly to his chest to suppress the pounding of his heart and the ache that begins to bleed through his skin. He tries to mumble what she said to himself to try and figure out what you meant. Hes able to catch a few words, stars and the sky but he cant make sense of it all. he clenches his jaw in frustration as he returns to his chambers, placing the book down on his table and gripping the sides of it with his hands. This must be a challenge from her. She’s clearly toying with him. Maybe she did truly dislike him. But then why would she help him today? or can you even call it help? she didn’t exactly teach him anything. he grows irritated at the thought that his afternoon was wasted but then he realizes something. He had no clue he himself could even say or understand any of those words until she proved to him that he could.

Before he can even dwell on it he’s being called for dinner. On his way there he wonders if you’ll join them. His hopes are crushed when he walks in the room and you aren’t there. Greeting his parents quickly before greeting baela for the first time, the two share a friendly hug before sitting. “Did you know lady y/n is here jacaerys?” He almost gets whiplash from the way his head whips up to look at daemon. “yes i got the chance to see her earlier.” He hopes he does not seem too quick with his response. He takes a sip of his wine as daemon taps his fingers on the table in thought. He can never tell what daemon is thinking, though he doubts even his mother can tell what he’s thinking. “i am yet to meet her i am looking forward to it.” Baela turns to jacaerys, “Do you like her?”

Now this question really makes him pause. He has no clue. He is sure he does, in some way, but he barely knows her. Maybe that does not matter, especially in their political situation. It is purely a political marriage he does not need to like her. But he does, maybe it stems from him not wanting to disappoint his mother but he likes her, he wants things to work with her. but a man who is simply doing this just to keep his mother happy would not write her letters while she was out fighting even when he would not receive a response, he would not be overthinking what gifts to give her because sure he could go out and get her the most expensive gem in the world or the most finest silk but she is not the type of lady to like that type of stuff and this man would be imagining her underneath him withering with pleasure. Well, maybe they are but not a man like him.

“She is pleasant.”

The raging storm outside leads most of the hallways empty as people try to remain dry. but solely in one hallway sits a girl sitting with her thighs clenched tightly to keep the torch she has lit ablaze steady as her hands cup in a prayer. Its dead quiet expect for the storm outside and the quiet mutters leaving her lips, until footsteps walk down the hall and the spot next to her grows warm with a body sitting there.

“Lord of Light, shine your face upon us.” the person next to you says nothing as you continue in your prayer. “Light your flame among us, R'hllor. Show us the truth or falseness of this man. Strike him down if he is guilty, and give strength to his sword if he is true. Lord of Light, give us wisdom.” “For the night is dark and full of terrors” the person next to you finishes. A long looming silence hangs in the air as you do not dare move your position. “Are you going to say anything?”

“I thought you were praying.” You finally look up at the women besides you who gives you a curious look. “Is it impolite that i i finished it for you?” “No it is preferred, lady rhaenys.” “have you always been a follower of the lord of light?” “I have been visiting the temple of the lord of light before i could even walk, it would be strange if i were not.” She hums and simply stares at the storm. “it is rather cold, do you not fear of getting sick?”

“i have been through worse weather at stepstones.” There are a few more beats of silence, it is so quiet you are even convinced for a moment she will not say anything else but she begins to speak after awhile. “What would my husband think of all this?” You turn to rhaenys and tilt your head. Rhaenys laughs and shakes her head, “You are the first person i am speaking to that has had a close direct contact with my husband for the last couple years, i wish to know what you think he would say.” You do not say anything for a long moment, your gaze being stuck on the flames still sat in your lap. “I think he would say you are all absurd for thinking he is going to die from this.” Rhaenys snorts but says nothing as she waits for your next words. “But he would not want his brother to succeed him.” It is not as though she is shocked to hear the answer. Especially when it was something she already knew herself.

“why do you think so?” She wants to know why, no she needs to. Just to clear her head maybe, give her some justice in her choice, rhaenyra's offer about marrying rhaena to lucerys still looming over her head. “because his brother is a fool.” She has no clue whether they are his words or hers but it does matter much as in a funny way she seems content with the answer. or maybe she was already content with her choice and needed the extra push.

She watches as the girl stares into the flames aimlessly. “can you see things in them?” “that is the priestess job not mine. Though i can see flashes. i am no were near skilled enough to make anything of it.” “it is a shocker to hear you admit you are not skilled enough at something.” “I am honest.” she nods though you don’t look in her direction. “What do you see?” “Myself mostly. sometimes he is with me.” “who?” There is no answer from the girl which causses rhaenys to sit up straight. “Jacaerys?” A light hum is the only answer she is given but it is all she needs before she lets out a surprised scoff. “i thought you hated the man.” You rip your gaze away form the flames and look at her with a confused look. “i hate him?” “that’s what everyone says dear.” rhaenys looks at her.

“Do you not hate him?” she looks away and stares back into the flames, her face now solemn and she watches the flame slowly wither away to nothing. No more words are said between the two of them but they don’t need to be as rhaenys gets up. “i bid you goodnight.” Even if you wanted to reply you are not given the opportunity to as she quickly turns away from you and leaves. You are once again left alone but this time you cannot distract yourself with prayers. You lean your head back against the cold wall behind you, hoping to let your mind be flooded with mindless water like the grounds are outside.

You cannot fail this. For there is far too much at risk. The words of the priestesses ring in your ears. This is too important. the gnawing feeling in your chest grows as you think of him. Failure is not an option. As much as you wish you could sit and wallow here for the night in your thoughts there are still things you must get done. Still people you must talk to. Maybe you should go to sleep earlier for tomorrow will make or break everything. But you know thats not an option. You get up for the first time in two hours and head towards the opposite direction of your room, for there is something you must do first.

Dinner has finally ended and jacaerys is more then eager to go to his room and take a nice hot bath before he goes to bed but he is instead walking lucerys to his room who looks like he’s gonna throw up. “I am nervous.” Jacaerys sighs and grabs his shoulders making lucerys look straight at him. “It shall be fine brother. Mother will take care of it.” Lucerys looks at the floor, “So i am making it difficult for her.” “No. family is about taking care of one another. It may be tough but it is worth it. because we are family.” Lucerys take a deep breath and opens his mouth as though he wishes to say something but he simply shakes his head before whispering a goodnight and closing his door.

Jacaerys lets out a shudder and closes his eyes for a moment. He feels bad he cannot do more for lucerys. He cannot truly reassure him everything will be alright because in his mind and how his parents talk of the hightowers he is convinced tomorrow will not work on in their favor. He stands in his spot for far too long, His mind far away from his body, He does not know what will happen and that scares him. What does happen if driftmark is taken from lucerys? What happens to his mothers claim? He feels as though this is his fault though the more rational side of him tells him this was something completely out of his hands.

He knows what he is. it is no secret. He knew. But there is nothing he can do about it. He must live with it. It does not matter what anyone else thinks. He runs his now sweaty hands down the front of his tunic before turning and walking away from lucerys room. He cannot stress about this now or else he will not be able to sleep. He is not paying attention in front of him so when hands press on his chest to prevent him from moving he gasps and takes a step back. “My lady.” He feels like he’s imagining you. Maybe he thought about you a bit too much he’s starting to see things. You just blankly stare at with your eyebrow raised. His stress must be showing on his face. he sighs and runs his hands down his face. “I apologize i was lost in thought.”

He had thought you were waiting around for him to apologize to you. “you should not be upset. what is it now.” He grows irradiated. His face turns anger and his blood begins to boil. You were mocking him. it is the way you say it, the monotone voice you hold makes his skin itch. The cherry on top is the fact that you roll your eyes. His jaw clenches and begins to speak through his teeth. “i am sorry i am not allowed to be upset my lady. I know you hold your own anguishes against me but please save it for another day. Goodnight.”

He swiftly moves around you and does not look back as he storms off to his room. He cannot believe himself. Deluding himself into thinking the two of you could even be civil. You don’t like him. That much is clear to him now. He does not notice the fact that you have not moved a single step. There is no noise in the hallway it is as if you are not even breathing. For the first time all day you truly let you face fall. Fingers twitching at you side as if you wished to reach your hand out and grab him but he is already to far away. You have messed it up. of course.

You don’t know how long you’re standing there until a hand touches your shoulder and you turn your head. “Are you alright?” You immediately straighten back up and no one would have even known you we’re frowning before now that your face has been set back to neutral. “I am alright my queen.” “Are you lost?” No. “Yes. I seemingly have lost my way.” She offers to walk you and you finally fully get a good look at her. She is in her nightdress and you eye the box you had given her earlier in her hands. She notices your gaze and perks up. “ah in truth i had actually head to your room to look for you. It is late but, are you up for a game?”

Jacaerys attempts to contain his anger as he asks for the coldest bath he can have that night. They do not question him as they see him furiously unbutton and tear at his clothes. He does not even hiss as he enters the tub. His blood still boiling hot and the cold bath does nothing to soothe him. “You are dismissed.” “But my prince-” “I am capable of cleaning myself.” The servant bows before stating he will leave his night clothes on his bed before he swiftly leaves. For the first time today he is alone with his thoughts for the first time today. he leans down and submerges himself low enough in the water until his nose is just barely above the water.

He is sure the water is warming up quickly because of how hot his skin is right now. He does not even know why he is so annoyed. He does not know you. You do not know him. Maybe he is annoyed at himself for attempting to put in an effort that is not going anyway, maybe it is due to the fact that he is going to be stuck with you for the rest of his life. He doesn’t know. Maybe he is annoyed that he is so enthralled by you. Were you always so inconsiderate? He should have known, gods you never even answered his letters or even so much as tried to speak to him before today.

The stress of lucerys trial and his annoyance with you all builds and all he can feel is a pure ache. Throbbing and aching and throbbing. Fuck when did he get hard? He stares down at his errection with furrowed brows. His hot blood boiled until it all spilled down to his cock he guessed. He throws his head back in anger. Maybe he should just ignore it. He should call a servant in and ask him to throw as much ice as he can possibly take into the tub.

Or maybe he just needs a good stress relief. He is a man and tomorrow will certain be a tough day and he will be overthinking. Maybe he just need to get it out now? He sits all the way up and eyes his throbbing dick angerly. He rarely does this. His sex drive is not high enough where he gets hard everyday but every once and awhile a guy has to relieve himself. He leans his head back to lay against the edge of the tub and closes his eyes. hands sliding down his chest before they settle on his balls. He lets out a sigh of relief as he fondles them lightly in his hands, his thumb rubbing circles on the sensitive skin.

Suddenly the smell of a familiar perfume fills the air. His movements do not halt but his pleasure is increased when it begins to feel like a second set of hands lay over his, adding harder pleasure to his thumbs. He lets out a couple puffs of air and its almost as if he can feel the another hot breath drifting onto his face. His eyes flutter open slowly and he sees you. Staring at him how you were in the library and he whines, “please… y/n.” As if he is high on your smell he feels as though his hands are being guided by yours, they slide from the base of his dick to the tip causing him to curse and clench his jaw as his thumbs are instead pressed against his tip, rubbing in small circles.

He presses his lips together tightly to stop himself from letting out a loud moan. He wants to bring one of his hands up to his mouth to silence himself but it feels like their stuck where they are. Your hands holding his down tightly. “Jacaerys.” He can hear you, smell you, feel you. Its as if your hands have switched and he can feel the harsh leather your hands are covered with. “Please y/n i cant take it please.” Finally sliding down from his tip and down back to the base, it slides back up slowly, her pointer finger is tracing along one of the veins, this continues like a slow painful torture until each and every single vein has been drawn and pressed against the skin, Jacaerys does not know how loud he is, with every groan, hiccup, mumble and moan he can’t even be worried he’s getting louder and is instead completely and utterly consumed by you.

“y/n do not tease me please, please.” The hands suddenly begin to move faster and he throws his head so far back its basically outside the tub. His cock so painfully sensitive from the teasing he feels like he might burst any moment. But he needs something else, something more. Suddenly it's like he can feel your ghost lips kissing along his jaw, slowly working towards his ear, giving it a long lick and he shudders, “Jace.” He cannot take it, his balls begin to ache and he can feel an overwhelming pressure build in his stomach. “I need you y/n” Suddenly a long lick on his collarbone is what has him shaking and moaning out your name while white webs flood into the now very very very dirty bath water.

The only sounds that can be heard now are the light swaying of water and his deep heaving breaths. After many moments he finally lifts his head and slowly opens his eyes, blinking slowly he sees no one in front of him. Of course it was not real. he lifts up his hands and feels how his arms and hands ache from how long he was working himself and there is no smell of you in the room. For a moment he is disappointed until clarity hits him and he's suddenly very quickly standing up, well as best as he can his legs begin to rapidly shake and he hisses as his dick is met with the cold air of the room severely overstimulated.

What had he done? It was a one time thing. It was merely his mind running amok. Yes that's it. He dries himself quickly and attempts to suppress down any thoughts he has. All of them. all he wants to do is slip into bed and fall asleep, acting like today never happened. If he was lucky she wouldn’t be at the trial. Maybe she would head to stepstones tomorrow and they would go back to being strangers until they must marry. Maybe she would die in the war, he ignores how much his chest aches at that, and they would never see each other ever again. He just wants to rid of himself of all his thoughts. He tosses and turns in bed, sleep alludes him, or maybe its his own fears that once he falls asleep he’ll dream of you.

The library you reside in is cold, devoid of all light other than the two candles lighting up the board in front of you and the occasional light from lightning striking outside. “It is rare i meet someone who is good competition.” Alicent is enjoying herself. a small smile on her face as she places down another piece. Aemond is always far too busy to play, Aegon obviously won’t play with her and helaena has no clue how to play. She watches you closely but you face is unmoving, leaning far back into your seat with you arms crossed in your lap all you do is dart your eyes around to look at the board.

When you say nothing in return she is not surprised and says nothing more until you move a piece on the board. “I’d like to ask you about something.” she twists one of the pieces in her hands, eyes flying back between the board and to you. You make no noise or even so much as look up at her like she takes this as her queue to continue. “What are your thoughts on your betrothal?” Though it only happens for a split second she catches it, You tense.

She believes she is right. You are unhappy with your betrothal. She watches as you stare at your dragon on the board, lifting on of your hands to twist it to face you. “It is a fine match.” She hums and nods, “agreed.” Though for the first time you look at her and raise your eyebrows at her. you know there's something more to this. She feels a chill run down her spine as you don’t take your eyes off her while she's moving another one of her pieces on the board. “I hope this does not offend you, however i am truly just curious, is there anything keeping you in this engagement?”

Your gaze does not waver nor do you move to move one of your pieces and she begins to pick at her nails, a pit forming in her stomach. “I do not understand.” “It is simply curiosity. and if you would stay, if there was no longer any political benefit?” Your gaze does not stray as you pick up a piece and place it on the board. “No more political benefit?” You trail off for a moment, she expects you to say there would be no point then or maybe something along those lines. “What political benefit is there for me now?” Alicent freezes and looks at you confused, “What?” You shrug and fiddle around with some of your pieces on the board. “Am i supposed to be getting something out of it?”

All alicent can do this blink. What did you mean? Were you trying to mock her? What did you mean what benefit were you getting? “Your future husband is to be king one day….” She watches as you scratch your jaw and move one of your pieces. “Ahh,,,,, I guess you’re right.” She looks down at the board, she sees the clear path in front of her and tries to suppress her smile, maybe you were not as good at this as she had though, purposefully taking longer to continue to speak to you.

“It would be better if a marriage had benefits i suppose, so no?” Alicent picks up one of her pieces and places it down. Maybe this is her opportunity, there is a small voice in the back of her head telling her this was a bad idea, it was her fathers voice, but she must try no matter what he says. She could be in danger or even worse children could be in danger.

She knows how dangerous and cruel the people of Volantis are. If there truly is to be a war if she does not gain her as an ally they are doomed. and worse they would be fighting against her family, so the punishment and pain she would inflict would be far worse. It would be treason.

“So, would you consider another option, should you be presented one?” She sees the look on your face and panics a bit but manages to remain calm, “Purely hypothetical of course.” “Like what?” “Say if i told you my son aemond remains unmarried.” “A second son compared to a future king? A ridiculous proposition.” For someone who just seemed to have no interest in the political side of things your attitude sure has changed.

“but what if he was not just a second son, but the prince regent to the king” You just blink. you would be blind to not get what she was referring. she fears you will confront her, ask her what she means by her implications, but she is good to remember you are not that type of person. “a prince regent is still not a king.”

“but what if your first daughter would be promised to the next king, your line on the throne after you.” more blinking. She doesn't know what you’re thinking, your face as blank as it always it. “simply just something to think about of course. If tomorrows trial goes well, maybe there could be something.” She begins to sweat under your blank stare. Maybe her father was right, this was a bad idea. You are going to declare war on her and her family for treason. But you say nothing at all for a good while. She decided against opening her mouth again in fear of ruining it more than she already has.

But you make do not open your mouth to speak, instead you just push yourself to stand up and her heart drops but you just place one of your pieces before snatching her dragon and placing it on her side of the board. “I shall think about it. Goodnight.” She simply watches as you leave the room before looking at the board in shock.

you had won.

He’s kissing you. All over your hot skin. Occasionally leaving a trail of his own saliva when he stays in one sport too long. He makes sure to keep his ear right next to your mouth to hear every little whimper and moan you let out. His hands running up and down your sides, you were wearing a red silk dress, a night gown if he had to guess. but he has no room in his mind to think about it as he slides his hands under your dress kneading your ass with his hands and uses his knees to push open your legs to slot himself between you, lifting up your dress to expose you, you weren’t wearing anything underneath it. His lips are surely going to be sore with the force he’s kissing you.

The two of your hips thrusting each others with fever even through his clothed pants he can feel your wetness soak his trousers and onto his hard cock. His lips leave yours and they begin to suck down your jaw to your neck. His hands sliding up to your breasts, his thumbs brushing against your nipples, feeling as they harden against his skin.

“my prince.” He ignores this at first. continuing his assault on your skin and the rhythm of your hips getting faster. “my prince.” but the voice gets louder and louder and louder until-

“my prince!”

Jacaerys eyes open and he shoots up. He is breathing heavy as if he just ran all the way from the north to dorne. He runs his hands down his face and he looks at his hands with disgust as he feels the amount of sweat.

fuck.

“my prince.”

“What is it?” He is basically snarling. He is furious he was woken up. He can feel his cock throbbing under the blanket as if he was on the brink of climax. The servant shakes at the dragon princes hard glare. “It is morning my prince, we must get you ready for morning fast.” His head whips to look at the window. The sky bright blue contrasting the stormy weather it had been last night. as if the storm had to happen last night for the sky to be blue. He runs his hands down his face and apologizes, “I'm so sorry, i had a bad dream.” the servant merrily nods with a grateful smile on his face before he begins to help jacaerys get ready for the day.

Jacaerys cock throbs under the cold water. “my prince if you need a few moments alone-” “I do not.” he spits out. He certainly cannot do what he did last night. As much as his hands itch to touch himself he knows he would only be greeted with images of you. He cannot allow that. The servant says nothing more for the rest of the morning, his hardness dies down a little through out his routine but he knows once he is alone his mind will begin to race once more.

So he is more than thankful you are not there when he joins his family. Though his mother mentions she had tried to invite you but apparently you were no where to be seen. Seemingly not having gone back to your room last night. He wishes he was relieved, that he were happy you were gone from him and he could not have to see you for a while. but he is not. He must be so annoyed about it even Joffrey asked him why he had such a sour face.

They all assume you have gone to stepstones, not believing you would be interested in staying for the trial. He says nothing in return. A thought pops up into his head. Maybe he had upset you, he had lost his temper with you last night, maybe that is why you had left. He tries not to dwell on it but a pit grows in his stomach, he does not wish to think about you any longer.

He does not expect you to be there. He had thought you left just like the rest of his family. But as his family was being led into the room he sees you already leaning against the wall near where his family was standing. He could see the way the people were looking and whispering about you. This must be the first time for many people in this room seeing her before, even seeing someone from Essos before. You do not seem to care as he expected. He can’t take his eyes off you. Instead of your black leather outfit you were wearing a completely grey leather outfit still paired with your large boots and silver chains. You have a dagger in your hands fiddling around with it not taking your eyes off of it.

He does not like you he is certain of it but then why can he not remove his gaze from you? why does he wish to go over to you and compliment you though he knows your response will be something like a nod? Has he ever even complimented you? He can’t remember. Maybe he wrote something in one of his letters. But why does it matter why should he complement you if you do not even care. Maybe he should do the right thing and go greet you despite his grievances.

Your gaze suddenly lifts and you're looking in his direction so he swiftly turns away to glance at lucerys who look's more nervous than ever. He wishes he could offer lucerys any sort of comfort but he has no clue what to say. It is certainly not because he is using all his willpower to not look at you. He can feel your stare, your burning gaze staring into the side of his face. He does not allow himself to look. he only does when he sees otto sit down on the throne and it is almost as if you were not just looking at him. backing to fiddling with you dagger, was it really your gaze he felt on him? He has no time to truly dwell on it, not when Vaemond begins to speak.

The trial begins without a hitch. Jacaerys find himself growing more and more irritated as the trial goes on. Vaemond’s voice and the backhanded insults Vaemond is insinuating about his mother anger him beyond belief. Daemon places his hand on jacaerys back to attempt to keep the young boy at bay. Daemon looks over at you and sees you spaced out, as if you were not even listening to the trial at hand., neither really was he if he was being truthful, he knew this trial would work on in his favor, whether he would have to pull out drastic measures or not.

“Why don’t we get the lady Maegyr’s opinion?” Daemon chuckles as he watches your head raise and look to Vaemond with your blank stare. “You are sure to know better than anyone else about my brothers wishes.” Every head in the room is turned to look at you now.

Alicent feels herself praying in her mind. You must take their side, they can’t risk you having aligned yourself with the blacks. She glances at otto who looks to her for a beat, she does not miss the awaiting look on his face. She knows he will be furious with her should you not side with them, she looks at you hopeful, praying to the seven, praying to the father the mother anyone who would listen to her.

Jacaerys watches as you push yourself off the wall and walk towards where Vaemond is standing, stopping for a moment to glance at jacaerys. He does not turn away this time, allowing himself to look at you. He is desperate, he worries as he knows your distain for him he fears that will transfer over to your feelings on this whole affair. He has a look of desperation as your gaze does not leave him, please he finds himself begging in his mind. You must defend them, his mother, his brother. Him. His fists clench at his sides and your gaze drops to look at them before you look back up one more time and walk away.

Standing in front of the throne the room is dead quiet, every person in the room eager to here what you have to say, anticipating it.

“I think this whole ordeal is ridiculous.” You stop to glance at alicent who looks at you with wide eyes, you can see her picking at the skin on her nails. You look back at Vaemond and sigh. “worst of all i think you are nothing than a power hunger pig who cares not of his brother nor his family but only of himself.” There's a couple gasps around the room and Vaemond opens his mouth to speak but you are quicker. Daemon feels rhaenyra let out a sigh of relief and places a hand over her chest.

“Dare i ask why you do not campaign for Baela to take driftmark? by westerios succession rules she would be next in line after him if you do truly disregard corlys’ true blooded named heir Lucerys Velaryon. For you are nothing but an old rotting man no kids, no wife yet you believe you are best choice for driftmark? yet not baela who has spent the last couple years of her life on driftmark under her grandmothers wing who, as of right now, is the proper ruler of driftmark and is more suited than you, a lone man who is closer to his own death day than he is to ever sitting on the driftmark seat.”

Vaemond's face turns to anger, his eye twitches at your words and he takes a step closer to you, his voice louder than before, “You dare speak to me like this?” “You say that as if you are someone to be reconned with. I am supposed to fear a second son you dare insult me, maybe that is the reason you remain unwed, for no one wishes to lay with a second son.” Alicent feels her heart drop to her stomach. It does not help that she feels Aegon chuckling at her words next to him. She does not dare look at her father, for she fears his reaction more than anything.

“How dare you?” “How dare i? how dare you? you dare put into question the legitimacy of the princess and even worse the legitimacy of her children. Ser laenor claimed those children as his who are we to question such an act. You? A weak old man who is so bitter and resentful he must campaign in a room full of more ignorant fools who believe this should even be a question in the first place. You should be hung for treason.”

Vaemond finds his body shaking with anger at the girls in front of him with her ever so calm demeaner, her words cold and calculated like she knew exactly what she was going to say before he had even called on her. He cannot control himself. “You are a lying deceitful monster who believes she is so righteous and strong. Yet i find it hard to believe there is a fate worse than marrying someone of his blood-” “You will hold your tongue!” The room which had begun to be filled with whispers and small chatter ceases completely at the girls outburst. Her face having a look that no one has ever seen from her. Anger. Vaemond takes a step back as if her voice had thrown him back. Everyone else in the room finds themself frozen in fear.

“You dare forget yourself i am first lady Y/n Maegyr of House Maegyr, one of the three triarchs of Volantis i am not someone who is below you, i am not some family member of yours, you will not dare speak another nasty word about him or i shall watch your blood pool on the ground by my blade.” Without another words you swiftly turn your back to him and make your way back to the pillar you were once leaning against, not sparing anyone else a glance and sliding down it to be sitting on the floor with a bored look. You do not pull out your dagger nor do you look to speak with anyone else, simply all you do is stare out into space.

Before anyone else can say a single word the king is announced and he is shockingly walking in. Jacaerys can't find himself to care much however. You are the only thing on his mind. You defended not only his mother but him. You did not get angry when Vaemond insulted your own honor but his. He attempts to will away his blood that begins to pump down south. Maybe you had just done it to keep up appearances, it would be wrong if you did not defend your betrothed.

Suddenly he is rushed with guilt. He had been so cruel to you last night, maybe it had been deserved but he should not have spoken to you like that. He will have to make it up to you somehow. An idea pops up in his head. He is so distracted he does not even flinch when daemon slices off Vaemond’s head, instead turning his head in your direction to see how you react. You don’t, as expected and you do not move even as the trial is called to an end. He finds himself moving without thinking.

You look up once you notice a shadow close around your vision and see him staring down at you, offering you his hand. You eye it for a moment before grabbing onto it and he helps you up. He watches as you use your free hand to dust off your pants briefly before looking back at him. “Thank you.” He wasn’t expecting you to say anything and merely nods, he feels as though the roles are reversed, he should be the one speaking not the one silent. You make no move to let go of his hand and he does not let go either. He does not want to let go. “Are you free this afternoon?”

He watches as you look at him wide eyed, he gives you a small smile, maybe he could use this as a way to apologize. But he watches as you look down at the floor and let go of his hand. “I find myself,,,,,” You trail off with an unsure look on your face, “preoccupied with other things this afternoon until the dinner tonight.” He takes this as a clear rejection and takes a step back. Maybe you truly did what you had done for your own benefit and he finds himself annoyed at himself. You probably were not even busy, you were probably just not interested in seeing him. “of course you are. Good day then.”

You are once again forced to watch him simply just walk away from you as you have once again messed things up and merrily sigh as you watch him walk off. As much as you would like to spend the afternoon with him you have other things you must do. Things you cannot afford to miss. He will understand. But as you walk around out you begin to think about the words he had said to you last night. ‘I know you hold your own anguishes against me’ or even when rhaenys had asked you if you hated him, has you crinkling your eyes. What had they meant by that? You let out a sigh and continue walking through the streets with your hood up, You have things to do, people to meet, you will dwell on this later.

Dinner time has finally arrived and everyone had gotten into their seats, even viserys had been escorted into the room but one chair remained empty. Your chair. “The lady is no where to be found my queen.” Alicent sighs in defeat, had you left? It did not make sense. Maybe you are heading home to plan an attack on her and her family. No. She should not think so irrationally now. “If she shows up escort her here.” The guard nods before moving to leave the room. “Should we pray?”

“She cannot stand your presence so much she is missing dinner.” Aegon whispers in jacaerys direction before being shushed by his mother who begins to pray. Jacaerys has never been religious so he has no reason to pray. Are you truly missing dinner because of him? He begins to feel sick. Jacaerys had definitely not spend his whole afternoon thinking of you even when he was walking in the garden with baela or when he had found out lucerys was to be married to rhaena. It got him thinking of his own engagement. He has been trying his best to figure out what he was going to say the next time you spoke, maybe he should stop trying completely. Today was a slip up in his judgement, he should have listened to his head and not thought with his cock like Aegon.

He will not speak to you unless necessary.

That entire plan lasted all of five seconds because as soon as alicent was done with her prayer the doors to the room opened and his jaw fell to the floor. You stood in a floor length sleeved in the color of house velaryon. It had a long slit down your front down to your waist where it connected to another slit down your leg. the dress covered in detailed designs of flowers. Your hair was done, full of pins and topped with a golden clip which made it look like the sun was shining behind you. he could see the scar that was was usually hidden behind your very covered up look clearly now. it ran completely down your chest and stopped around your stomach where there was a bigger scar.

You were gorgeous. No gorgeous is not enough. you looked radiant, glorious, his vocabulary is not large enough to describe the goddess standing in front of him. He may not be religious but he believes you to be the closest thing to the maiden. A goddess that has flown down from the heavens to grace this earth.

You awkwardly readjust your dress as everyone in the room gawks at you. “I apologize for being late. This dinner clashed with my prayers.” There is a couple beats of silence before anyone says anything. “It is my fault, i should have taken your faith into account when i set this dinner up.” Otto is the first and only one to break the silence and is given a nod before you make your way towards the table.

Jacaerys quick to stand, you look at him in shock as you sit he pushes in your chair for you before sitting back down himself.

Shortly after all the food is being brought out and the chatter at the table begins. “you look beautiful. That dress is stunning, where ever did you get it?” rhaenyra is the first to speak to you, he watches as you reach your hands and readjust the slit on your dress. You are not wearing your gloves. “I had it made in a tailor shop in the city last night, i had gone to go pick it up this afternoon.” He cannot take his eyes off your hands, still covered in rings. He can see black marks peaking through your wrists but mostly hidden under your sleeves. He wants to see them. He wants to see you.

“A dress like that made so quickly? That is quite impressive.” “It is easy to have stuff done quickly when you are presented with enough coin.” more mindless chatter flows around you all. There is an awkward energy in the air but no one dares acknowledge it. Jacaerys feels terrible. You had been busy this afternoon. And he had been so rude about it. His terrible temper and sensitive feelings continue to sway him in the wrong direction.

He wants to speak to you. But he feels as though he will just screw it up once more.

“Lady Maegyr, you had mentioned you are a triarchs of Volantis, is it normal for two members of the same family to rule at the same time?” You pick at the food on your plate, “My father was not re-elected lord hand.” “That must have not gone over well with him.”

You glance up for a moment at daemon before you look down at your plate. “He was furious. So furious in fact he demanded a recount, then another recount. When that didn't work he attempted to bribe them. When that didn't work he tried to kill me. Both the other triarchs were re-elected, He had thought it was ridiculous i was elected. i had not spent a single second or coin to campaign” “but you traveled out there recently no? was that not to campaign?” “it had been to help my father campaign. Seems like it did not matter. The people wanted me to sit on the throne.”

“Do you know why?” It takes you a moment to answer but it is clear to daemon who chuckles to himself. “You are to be a Targaryen.” You hum, taking a large gulp out of your wine glass. “Every single old blood dreams of being even close to the great legacy of house Targaryen. They simply are trying to flatter me.”

There is no room to acknowledge the tension in the room. The adults more interested in learning about you, throwing questions at you left and right. Its a good thing, there's no room for in fighting between the family and you serve as the perfect distraction. “What happened to your father then?” “He had fallen off a cliff. Such a tragedy.” You do not mean that, you seem far too pleased for it to be merely an accident. “That is horrible.” You simply nod, and watch as a maid fills up your wine glass for the fourth time.

“Is your mother around?” “My mother died soon after giving birth to my brother.” Alicent places her hand on her chest, “I am so sorry.” You shrug, continuing to sip on your drink. “I was born with my twin brother, they had not expected her to live anyways.” “Twins are tough.” It is helaenas first time speaking that night, a depressed look on her face. “Birthing is not easy even with one, i cannot even imagine two. Isn't it not common to survive?”

“Yes well, my mother had not died while giving birth. She had actually looked like she was going to live which shocked the midwives in the room.” The room sits in silence and some in pure confusion, “Imagine the look on their face after my father picked up a blade and slit it across her throat.”

Rhaenyra chokes on her drink while alicent gasps and covers her mouth. “No…” “ ‘an heir and a spare’ they say. when i was pushed out first he had expected he would keep her around until she gave him another son but soon after me my brother came out and he had no more use for her i suppose.” “That's horrible.”

You simply shrug and finish off your cup requesting some more. “it is in the past. My father shall pay for what he’s done, the lord of light shall do what he sees fit to punish him. Even so he has already paid for his crimes in a sense.” It is a shock to hear you talk so much. Maybe it is the wine that is loosing you up. But there must be a deeper reason as to why you seem to be acting differently tonight.

“It is nice to see someone can keep up with me in the drinks. Maybe we should see if you can keep up with me in other places.” Aegon whispers the last part in your ear. You keep your gaze forward continuing to drink, had you even taken a bite out of your meal.

“Hold your tongue when speaking to my betrothed.” It is now jacaerys who whispers from your right. He has a venom in his voice as he glares in his direction. You look at neither man, simply blind to the stare down they are having behind you.

“My lady i truly feel bad for you. I'm sure his cock is so flaccid he has no clue what to do with it. If you ever need some real experience feel free to come visit me.”

What really gets jacaerys anger is Aegon placing his hand on your bare back that had been exposed. He swears his eye is twitching as he fights the urge to pick up his steak knife and stab it into his hand to get it off your skin. He had never even touched your skin before.

You suddenly reach behind your back and rip his hand off, twisting it lightly causing him to hiss. “Touch me or even so much as speak to me again and i shall do worse to you.” You do not even spare him a glance as you finish down yet another cup and wave down the servant to refill your cup.

Jacaerys however is too anger to say anything else just angrily shoving some of his chicken in his mouth. His other hand rests on the table clenched in the fist. He should not be so angry. He is embarrassed. Embarrassed that Aegon is most likely right. He was obviously not good at much, he could barely speak Valyrian, could barely control his temper-

A hand gets placed on his clenched fist and any thought in his mind ceases to exist. He looks over at you and he notices that they have just brought you a jug of win seemingly tired of having to walk over and refill your cup. You keep your gaze forward but he notices your clenched jaw and rapid blinking.

He has no clue if he’s right but due to your excessive talking and drinking as well as even your posture he could tell, you were stressed. Your mind was clearly not here, Which is why you were answering any questions throw at you. Why you seemed to not even mind the way the men were eyeing you down at the table. He had no clue why you were, he wishes he did. Wishes he could make it go away, he does not wish to see you so stressed.

He unclenches his fist, twists it around and hesitates before lacing his fingers with yours. He expects you to turn him away, or even glare at him but you don’t. Instead you allow yourself to grip his hand tight and your shoulders drop as you relax and let out a deep sigh.

His skin burns, like the two of your hands together rub together to create electricity which sends shockwaves through his soul. He is surprised your hands are so soft, he had expected them to be a lot rougher due to your excessive sword training but you must wear gloves almost all the time as they look like there are barely any scratches and marks on them, as if you have never even lifted your hands to do anything before. His thumb starts to rub against the back of your hand. He knows its not good to question you. Not that you will give him any answers anyways. but he hopes that you do not have to stress for long.

The tension in the room is much more palpable now. They had stopped grilling you about yourself. You almost want to leave but it would be in bad taste, you know they would fight and rhaenyra would want to leave the keep, you must prevent that from happening. “Do you mind if i ask her to dance?” You snap out of your thoughts and lightly turn in his direction. Haleana had just given a speak and looked rather down. Of course he would want to atleast try to cheer her up. but you know that is not a good idea. So you stand, letting go of his hand and his looks up at you in confusion as you walk over to the small group of people playing music.

You stand awkwardly as a cheerful jig started playing and everyone looks over at you. “Lets,,, dance?” Its a group jig. Everyone looks back and forth at one another. You reach your hand out in helaenas direction and she smiles as she stands up to grab it and jacaerys stands to join you soon after, rhaena baela and lucerys follow. Aegon shakes his head as his mother urges him to get him, she has to give a pointed look at the king before he rolls his eyes and stands, walking over to aemond who shakes his head at him causing Aegon to smile and grip his shirt to drag him with him.

Alicent and rhaenyra watch you all with a smile, even otto and daemon have a pleased look as they watch you all. Jacaerys is shocked you even know this tune, he had thought it was a westerosi tune but he guessed you have been in westeros longer than you have been in essos. The song ends and you all laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. You simply stand and watch all of them with a pleased look. Jacaerys looks at you with a smile and grips your hand tightly. He looked so happy. You wish you felt the same but you felt too much stress to share the same sentiment.

“This makes me so happy. To see you all get along. This is all I've ever wanted.” They all stand around and stare at one another as viserys speaks. Alicent stands and looks to viserys. “Isn’t this a great way to end the night.” Viserys eagerly agrees seemingly exhausted and everyone gives each other hushed goodnights as they walk out the room. You nod at rhaenyra and daemon who grabs your hand and thanks you before leaving. You can feel a gaze on you and turn to see otto staring at you. All you do is give him a dramatic bow your gaze never leaving his face as you walk off to join jacaerys who was waiting for you by the door.

“Allow me to walk you-” “No. I will walk you to your room. I don’t plan on sleeping just yet.” You grab his hand and drag him towards the direction of his room. He says nothing as he watches the back of your head, attempting to keep up with your long fast steps. Soon enough they are standing in front of his room and you do not turn back to look at him, instead breathing deeply and gripping his hand tightly. He turns you around to face him, “Please you must tell me what is wrong? Are you alright?” You shake your head and let go over him reaching down into the potted plant near his room and his eyes widen as he sees the long metal chains in your hands. “My lady..?”

“You will listen to me very closely. You are to tie these around your door, your windows and there is a shelf in the back of your room that you must secure this around as well,” He blinks at you as you shove them in his hands, “I do not understand-” “You must do this i beg of you,” “My lady-” “You will not leave your room. You will not open the door should you hear knocking you will not even answer if you hear one of your own families voice. unless it is my own. No matter what you do or see you will not you must promise me.”

You cannot falter to his puppy eyes. The clock is ticking until things start to explode and you are too worried too stressed, you cannot allow anything happen to him. You cup his cheeks and pull him closer to you, his breath hits your face and his eyes dart around your face. “Y/n…..” “Please jacaerys.”

He gulps. His past dreams and thoughts float their way up to his mind. He wants to kiss you, he is staring at your lips so intensely he is not even answering you. You notice this and sigh, shaking your head. “It is not a good time.” “If the situation is as dire as you make it seem maybe it is the best time.”

“I will kiss you later should you agree.”. Though his heart begins to race at the idea and he almost opens his mouth to eagerly agree he cannot stop the anxiety brewing in his stomach. “But what if you are in danger-” “No. You must stay. Agree to do it.” Your face turns to one of irritation at his continuous refusal. “What if i do not?” You press your face closer to him and he instinctively closes his eyes. “I guess i will just have to drag you to your bed and chain you there. Keep you there all night.” He lets out a shaky breath as you step back. That's all he wants. All he’s been thinking about.

“That doesn’t sound so bad. Would you join me?” You shake your head and look at him desperately. “please jacaerys. you must.” “Will you even tell me what this is for.” With you blank look he knows he wont get an answer so he sighs. “I will. as long as you promise to stay safe.”

You freeze. as he looks at you expectantly. He watches you look off to the side and think. He may not know what is going but he can tell you plan on doing something crazy. “I promise.” “do you mean it or are you just saying that.” You give him a flat look and roll your eyes. “I mean it. Kostan daor jikagon, mirri mēre kostagon gūrogon ao hen nyke.” He blinks and tilts his head. “Will you teach me what the things you say mean?”

You look at him once more before you begin to walk backwards, “Goodnight. jacaerys.” “Will you try to get some rest?” You say nothing and just turn your back to him walking off. He watches you until you are far out of his view and attempts to calm his pounding heart as he enters his room. His tub already ready for a bath, he does what you say after waving off a couple maids saying he has no need for them tonight and he wants to go to bed early. He is bad at tying it, he is sure you would be anger if you saw the terrible job he did.

He is unsure as to why you need him to lock up the cabinet in his room but he does it anyways with the most confusion. He strips himself and settles into his bath, its hot. Very hot actually. But it is a nice change from the cold bath he had taken yesterday. You are the only thing he can think about. He wonders what you are doing what is going on. But in a weird way he finds himself trusting you. He has no reason to. You have not shown yourself to be trust worthy. maybe it is the childish part of him or his own selfish desires but he believes you and will do anything you say.

His mind slowly drifts to your dress tonight. The way it flowed as you walked away, the exposed skin where he could see scares all over your legs and back but you still never showed your arms. Was there a reason for that? He wants to know everything about you. He dunks his head under the water as he begins to wonder what you are doing right now.

You stand in your room, back into your black leather outfit as you heart pounds. Looking at the variety of weapons on your table in front of you you hesitate before strapping them onto different spots on your outfit before you stand Infront of your door and freeze. wiping you hands in front of your armor you gulp. This is it. You cannot mess this up, what this has all been leading to. You stand and wait. and wait, and wait and wait and wait for your queue. When you hear the rushing of footsteps outside your door you open it. looking around the hallway before stepping out and swiftly making your way through the corridors with your hood now tossed up.

You were called to the temple about a month ago. it was the highest request from the high priestess herself. Only a few days after you had been elected.

‘There is something you must know. the flames have told me something of great danger.’

You sit in your chair held up above the ground with a bored look on your face. “What could be more important than ruling Essos?” You watch the priestess pace back and forth and sigh.

“The king is going to die soon.”

“That is a shock to no one.”

“no no you must understand they plan to kill the heir.”

This has you sitting up completely with wide eyes. “Whatever are you speaking of?”

“They plan to kill her, her and her children.”

You freeze, blinking slowly. “… her children.”

Jacaerys.

“They plan to gather in the keep. Should they leave war will begin, should they stay they will all die. You must go.”

You play with your dagger that you had tucked into your pocket and look at the priestess with a confident face. “What must i do?”

“They will not do it by their own hands. You must kill them.”

Viserys will be dead in minutes alicent knows this. She watches viserys mutter to himself. She feels sick, sicker than she’s ever felt when he would take her at night, sicker than he had announced to the council he will marry her. She does not want this to happen. She fears what will happen afterwards. The door of the room opens and she stands in shock looking at women who had just entered. “Rhaenyra?” Rhaenyra walks swiftly over to her father ignoring alicent completely and kneels down next to him. “Father?”

Otto walks in the room swiftly after and looks between them all alarmed and walks closer to alicent. “You will be a beautiful queen. I just, wish i could have seen it.” Otto eyes alicent who looks at him. Otto cannot allow this to happen. He already has the means to get rid of them set up, he had not accounted for rhaenyra showing up in this room right now. He can see a danger on the table and grabs it. Alicents eyes widen and she begins to steps towards her father. She does not want rhaenyra to die. That is the last thing she has ever wanted. So she is more than relieved when the door opens to the room once again and otto drops the dagger quickly.

Daemon, unlike rhaenyra who had seemingly ran in here straight from bed still in her night gown, daemon was completely dressed in his leather armor suit with his sword attached to his side quickly making his way over towards rhaenyra to comfort her as she had begun to cry as viserys retold the story of Aegon the conquer once more. Otto internally curses as he knows he cannot act with daemon around. The only real question he has is how did they know to come here? They were meant to be dead asleep in their rooms so the people he hired could come in and deal with them, but what were they doing outside of their room how had they even known to come in here?

Otto gives alicent a look before leaving the room. Alicent begins to worry what otto is going to do. She has no clue but based on what he was about to do she has her worries. But she cannot dwell on that right now she approaches closer to the other two and simply can only watch as viserys passes.

Jacaerys was unable to sleep. His thoughts filled with you, and with worry. What did you seem to be so concerned with? His eyes closed he continues to toss and turn in bed until he hears a thump against the cabinet you had him lock up. He sits up alarmed his eyes widening and heart racing. It continues to thrash until he can hear the sound of gurgling and he can hear what sounds like a body hitting the floor. He wants to get up and check it out but your words ring in his head. He can’t. He is choosing to trust you. he hopes he does not grow to regret this

Alicent is left in a room for the first time since viserys had passed. Daemon and rhaenyra had walked back to their room to mourn maybe an hour ago? She had no clue how much time had truly passed. She finally allows herself to cry. To cry about everything. She swears this is the first time she's cried in years, everything suddenly crashing into her in a sudden wave of anguish. Maybe she had a distain for the man and his blind ignorance of everything but she never truly wanted him to pass.

“Pick up your tears girl there are things we must do.” She looks up towards her father who walks in the room with a satisfied look on his face. “What did you do?” Otto simply shrugged, “What i had to do. There is nothing you can do now it is already done.” Alicent looks angry now, the tear streaks still left on her face as she glares at her father. “The king never would have wanted this!” “The king is dead. Now it is time we move. Come, let us discuss this more privately.”

Otto is horrified to walk into his room to a pile of bodies stacked in the middle of his room the one of the topic having the his back exposed with a familiar skull carved into it. The volantis currency coin honors skull. “That cunt.”

“‘That cunt’ is right.” The two of them jump and like you appeared out of thin air you approach from a far corner of the room. “You.” Otto glares at you and he notices all the blood splotches on your face and he sees the dagger you are holding in your hands, covered in blood.

“Yes, me.” “You have no reason to get involved in this. These are family affairs.” You tilt your head and alicent sees a crazy in your blank eyes she only sees in daemon. It is not clear to her. You do not have a distain for him. You are on the same grounds as him, you probably respect him more than anyone else. She has severely misunderstood you. and now she will pay the consequences for it.

“I have no reason to get involved? They are to be my family. I am to be married to him.” You walk past him and stand directly in front of alicent who looks down. “Here is what is going to happen. You two are going to stop this mindless nonsense. Rhaenyra is going to ascend the throne, daemon will take the position as hand, otto will return to oldtown, Me and jacaerys will take our place in dragonstone, baela and rhaenys will return to driftmark, and you, your children, rhaena and lucerys and the rest of her spawn will stay here.”

“The realm will never accept a women on the throne.” You do not turn back to otto as you address him. your gaze staying strong onto alicent. “They did not seem to have any complaints. Not until you and your Hightower cunts started to spread around that ridiculous rumor about her.”

“You must know it is true,” Alicent hands begin to shake as she speaks, “You cannot truly look at him and think he is of pure blood-” “You will not open your mouth to speak about him again. I let your foolish game go on for too long, it ends today.” Otto stares at the back of your head and scoffs. “You do not truly love the boy do you? You are incapable of love you are nothing but a monster-” “QUIET!” He flinches as you are louder than you've ever been, even during today's trial you had not been so loud.

“You will never speak or even so much as think about him again or else.” His eye twitches as you do not even turn in his direction and keep your gaze on alicent. “You don’t want things to get ugly do you? It would be a shame if something happened to your dear son in oldtown, hmmm what is his name?” You put your hand on your chin in a fake ponder as alicents eyes widen in horror, “Daeron..” “Daeron yes! thats it! it would be terrible should anything happen to him no?” “What have you done?” You open your mouth in a mock horror as your face remains blank, “Why i would never? what a horrible accusation? I just happen to know a few people in oldtown who happen to be willing to do whatever i say.” You get closer to alicents face and stare her down, “It would also be oh so horrible should anyone find out what happened to dear poor Dyane.” “How do you know that?” She whispers to you, she feels like her world is closing in, she feels dizzy and the only thing in her vision is you.

“You may have tried to pay her off but it is best to remember this, i have more. More of everything. More men, more money, more power. You will never win in a fight against me. I am the threat, your worst outcome. You do not wish to toy with me. For i will not kill you, that would be too good of a fate for you. I shall lock you in a room and each day present you with a piece of your children all chopped up day by day night by night until there is nothing left of them and of you because you will be nothing more than an empty shell of yourself.”

She falls to her knees in front of you and when she looks up she sees the closest thing to the stranger. Maybe this is the gods way of punishing her, for trying to change history, for deluding herself in her own self righteousness, It was not all undeserving but she is certainly no saint. She watches as you tilt your head at her and raise your eyebrows. “You will do what i say.” “You did all this for him?” It is the only thing she can find herself to say as you crouch down to be eye level with her. She sees a dark look in your eyes as you lean forward.

“I would do anything for him.”

Knocking at his door came. He does not speak, simply holding his tongue and waiting. “It is me.” He lets out a sigh of relief and quickly rushes towards the door to unlock it and hurriedly lets you in. “My lady, Are you hurt? What has happened?” “You should head to the main hall, The king has passed.” “Grandsire?” He looks over you wide eyed and he grips your arms tightly as he notices the blood. “You are hurt.” You shake your head and for the first time ever he sees you smile. “It is not my blood.” You are so beautiful. He hopes you are forever this happy as you appear to be in this moment.

He is shocked when you grab his face and give him a peck on the cheek. “I told you i would reward you.” “I was thinking of a different kiss my lady.” You raise your brows at him, “I had no clue you were so scandalous my prince. Your grandsire just died.” He smiles and leans himself in to kiss you-

“Jace!” He groans as you step away from him and turn towards the door right as soon as Lucerys stepped into view, out of breathe. “Oh Lady Maegyr.” He bows and you nod your head at him before he looks up at you with wide eyes as he sees the blood on you and looks to jacaerys who is glaring at his brother behind your back. “mother is calling to gather all of us.” “I will meet you in a moment.” He says with intention on finishing what you started. “No he will accompany you there. I must go back to my room but i will meet you all there, if the queen asks for me tell her to start without me.” He glares as you give him a nod swiftly avoid his hand reaching out to grab you.

Lucerys looks at jacaerys who groans and walks out the room with a grumble. He does not even bother to check if his brother is following him. He is more than ready to get whatever needs to be done over with so he can see you again. His mother rushes over and pulls him into a deep hug upon seeing him. “I am so glad you are alright.” he smiles at his mother reassuringly, “i am alright mother, i swear.” After greeting lucerys he walks to stand by daemon who gives him a sly smile. He does not say anything to jacaerys but by the look on his face jacaerys knows he wishes to say something to him.

“Where is Lady Maegyr?” “She had said something about returning to her room. She said to tell you to start without her.” Lucerys answers her quickly. Rhaenyra glances over at jacaerys before simply nodding. She begins to speak about how today will play out, She will be crowned within the next couple hours but before then a personal family only funeral will be held for viserys which is currently being set up. He wishes he could say he is sad to see viserys go but in truth he barely knew the man besides the few times he would speak to him as a young boy.

“My queen.” You walk into the room having changed into a simply black dress, it had been a hand-me-down dress rhaenyra left in your room for you only hours prior and she smiles as she sees you, rushing over to you. “is,,, everything alright?” You know the implications of her question, her worries about the Hightower's and her half siblings and you nod. “It has been taken care of completely do not worry yourself.” She looks at you bewildered at the tone behind your words, “You are not implying what i believe you are…” Her words trail off as alicent walks in somberly dressed in complete black while Aegon trails in behind her looking like the happiest man in the world, a big smile on his face as he stands and bows to rhaenyra, “My queen.” Rhaenyra raises her bows and blinks in shock at his overjoyed appearance and simply nods to him.

Everyone in the room is looking at alicent who does not lift her head or say anything for a few moments before bowing. “My queen.” “There is not need for you to call me that, alicent.” Alicent looks at her hesitantly, the look on her equivalent to that of a kicked puppy before she nods and looks back down. Rhaenyra turns back to everyone else in the room and sighs, “You are all dismissed. You will get ready for the funeral and will be retrieved later.” Everyone floods out back to their rooms to get ready the only one who does not have a somber face is Aegon who practically skips back to his room.

You linger behind for a moment with jacaerys as you look at rhaenyra, “Do you need me?” She simply shakes her head and places her hands on your shoulders. “You have done more for my family than i can even say, please, is there anything i can do for you?” You blink for a moment, unsure of what to do with the sudden praise and simply shake your head. “No my queen. for i already have what i want.” You glance over at jacaerys who blushes at your look and turns away with a cough attempting to push down his smile. He turns around as to not have to face his mother and is instead met by daemon knowing grin and he shakes his head at the young boy.

“Then i can only as you to accept my thanks. and you stand by my family today during the ceremonies.” You nod and bow at her. “It would be an honor my queen.” “You are to be family my dear of course you shall stand with us,” she wraps you in a hug. You stand frozen for a moment, unsure you can recall the last time someone had even hugged you. You hesitantly bring your arms up and wrap them around her. “Maybe later we can discuss you and jacaerys staying at driftmark.” She pulls away after whispering in your ear and nods to dismiss you.

You bow once more before turning to leave, not turning back to look at anyone else and as soon as you step out the door you feel waves of relief crash over you. You had succeeded, they were all alive and well, rhaenyra would be crowned and there would not be any issues from the Hightower’s. You must write to the high priestesses and inform them of your successes but you are suddenly stopped by a frantic rhaenys sprinting towards you with a letter in hand. “Corlys is awake!”

Rhaenyra walks over to jacaerys and places her hands on his cheeks, “My boy. Today is a big day for not just me you know.” He nods and stands up straight. The past couple years of work he’s done to prepare and the years he knows he will have to prepare even more. “Of course my queen.” She presses her lips against his forehead, “Go get dressed.” He nods and exits swiftly leaving alicent, rhaenyra and daemon to discuss god knows what and makes his way to his room attempting to ignore his growing anxiety.

The funeral is a somber service. You stand by jacaerys and grip onto his hand tightly as viserys corpse burns he hears you muttering prayers to yourself with your eyes closed as the fire grows bigger. He does not know much about the lord of light and its religion, he’ll have to do some research once he has the free time but he knows the importance of fire to you and he pulls you closer to him. You open your eyes and stare at the flames in front of you and lean your head against jacaerys’ shoulder and let the flames take over your light of vision, the lords comfort warming you as you feel like this is a sign from R'hllor himself as the flames get bigger and bigger he is content with your work.

Unlike the funeral the crowning is a much more joyful affair, everyone changing out of their mourning outfits and putting on more regal attire as everyone stands around and watches rhaenyra be crowned. Jacaerys send a weak smile his mothers way as he watches her. Him being named her heir is inevitable at this point. He has begun to shake out of nerves. He is not good enough to do this. He cannot do this. He feels you grab his hand this time expect it is absent of your glove and he sighs at the feeling of your warm skin against his. The feeling of your cold metal rings and your comforting touch manages to calm him down until the end of the ceremony where he lets out a sigh of relief as people begin to flood away.

“You must accept my apologies my queen for i must leave.” It was the grand feast afterward rhaenyra looks over to you in shock, you had just given her your congratulations and she places down cup she had been sipping from. “Is something the matter?” “Lord corlys has awoke your grace, the situation at stepstones is too dire for me to ignore any longer.” Jacaerys walks over to from leaving his place by lucerys to stand by you, “You are leaving?” You stare at him with a sadden look before you look down at the floor. “I must.” He attempts to ignore the gnawing feeling in his stomach at the thought of you having to return to war. The two of you have not even gotten to discuss the rapid change in your relationship, if he can even call it one.

“I do not wish for you to go.” He grabs your hands in his and whispers to you. You look at him with a conflicted look and shake your head. “I will return to you. Wait for me?” He nods. He will, he will wait until the end of time for you to come back. So only a few minutes later he watches with a bitter heart as you get on a horse and give him one last final look before you ride off, it takes everything in him not to chase after you. Daemon places his hand on his shoulder and turns him so they can walk back inside together. “Will she be alright?” Daemon is quiet for a moment, “That is a ridiculous question. She is a warrior, she will live.”

It has been over a month since he’s last seen you. Since he’s been struggling with his thoughts and feelings about you. His mother had sent him to dragonstone to take up his place in the ancestorial seat. It was tough to be so far away from his brothers and parents but he did his duty day by day. He wrote to you once but as always did not receive a response. You confused him, You seemed to content with him but you continue to ignore him. He does not understand you.

So his confusion only grows as some of your footmen arrive in dragonstone one day with boxes full of items. “It is the triarchs things Lord Velaryon.” “You bring them here?” “The triach has requested it.” He simply nods and allows them to bring the things in, He is shocked to see how many boxes their truly was. He had never assumed you were the type to care about material goods. “A lot of them are dresses my prince.” A servant tells him as he sees Jacaerys eyeing the boxes, “It is much colder here than it is in Essos so the lady had to have many new clothes made for her to wear here.” Jacaerys lets out an ah as he roams around the boxes, of course, he head heard how hot it is in Essos, apparently Volantis is the hottest out of them all. He shakes his head as it begins to be filled with him trying to imagine what you typically wear back at home. You must not be as covered up as you are here. You probably wear anything at all.

“Do you two plan to share a chamber or do you have a separate room for the lady?” This snaps jacaerys out of his thoughts and he begins to think it over. It would be inappropriate for you two to share a chamber before you are married, but the selfish part of him wishes for when you return back to him for you to stay with him, it makes him sick a the idea of you staying in a separate room from him. But he knows he must do the appropriate thing, tell him he will have a separate room prepared for him. “We will share the main chamber.” Yet he cannot. The servants nod and begin to move the boxes towards the main chamber.

The hour turns late and the sun has since set until your people finally leave with a bow and all your stuff has been placed all over what was once just his chambers. He is at first overwhelms by the smell of you but he soon smiles to himself as he walks around the room. He did not have much stuff, he was never one for material goods but you however had many little trinkets and decorations placed all over the room. He notices a large vase in the room filled with beautiful red roses, he sees a tapestry of the symbol of the lord of light hanging near the bed, he notices the closet the once looked bare now completely filled with a variety of custom made dresses. He walks around the room with a smile on his face as he admire all the little signs of you all ober the room.

What does catch his attention however is a box places on the bedside table. It is a plain wooden box with no clear sighs of what would be in it. He should not open it. He should walk away and leave your personal stuff alone but he cannot stop himself from opening it. He is greeted by a sight he did not expect. Anything he had ever given you, from the letters, the flowers his mother forced him to pick and give to you, even his handkerchief he had lent you one time, everything laid neatly and organized inside the box. he picks up the letters and swipes through them. He is shocked that you had even opened them so much as kept them, he has sworn to himself you had thrown them away. But if you kept them why did you never respond? You continue to confuse his mind and his heart.

“And i thought it was improper to look through someone else's things.” He freezes as he hears the voice he’s been waiting to hear for over a month now. Whipping his head around he sees you, standing clad in your armor shaking your head at him with a soft smile on your face. “And imagine my surprise when the maids told me my stuff was placed in your chambers at the princes request. I never knew you were so scandalous my prince.” He quickly stands and to get a good look at you. You looked like not even a day had passed, just as beautiful as the last time he saw you. He hesitantly smiles. as you walk over to him and take the letters out of his hands and gently place them back in the box like they were your most prized possession.

“You kept them?” You nod as you close up the box and pick it up. “of course i did.” “But you never responded.” This has you looking down and turning away from him. “I did not think you wanted me too.” This has him laughing awkwardly as he watches you closely. “Whatever do you mean?” You place the box on the windowsill and turn back towards him, fiddling around with your armor. “I, am not very good at,” You put your hands back and forth between the two of you, “This. all i would do is mess it up.” He walks closer to you and he can feel his heart pounding, he wants you to mean what he thinks you mean. “Why do you think so?” “My father was a very strict man, he taught me that being friendly will get me nowhere, men don’t like talkative women. So when all you seemed to do was want to talk to me. I was scared.”

He feels his heartbreak. He thinks back onto your brief interactions that month ago and he begins to feel guilty. You just had no clue how to talk to him no matter how much you wished to. and whenever you would try he would say something rude to you. He feels like shit. “I am so sorry. What can i do to make it up to you?” You tilt your head at him in confusion, “Whatever did you do?” “I had been so rude to you-” “It is of no ones fault other than my own.” “That is certainly not true, you have been so so kind to me. to my family. and i have been nothing but a piece of shit.” You giggle at his foul language and shake your head. “Then we are both at fault.”

The two of you laugh. He is so happy. He had been feeling lonely this last month it is so nice to finally be with someone else, especially since it is you. “How is stepstones?” “The war is done. for now atleast, who knows when they could come crawling back up.” “So do you plan on returning to Essos?” “I will be staying here.” “Aren't you one of the rulers of Essos?” “They will be just fine without me, should anything dire come up you should come with me.” “truly?” “You ever been?” “no. but i have always wanted to see it.” You squeeze his hands as you stare at him, “Then i will take you. I will take you anywhere you wish to go.”

His eyes drop to your lips. He is dying to kiss you. He must. He will not live a second longer if he does not. “May i kiss you my lady?” You grip his cheeks and pull him to you. The second your lips tough he feels like he has been lit on fire. Everything else in the world fades as the only thing he can see and think about is you. Your lips move together like the perfect song, working in perfect sync in harmony to create something glorious. He does not want to pull away not even when his lungs begin to hurt from the lack of air he continues to kiss you. He never wants this moment to end. But it does when the two of you separate, breathing heavily. You look at him and he can see the wanting glaze over your eyes, it is unbelievable he is able to control himself.

He tried to pull you back into him once more but you put your hand between your lips. “If this is truly going where i believe it is going can you allow me to bath first? I do not wish to smell like fish and blood and shit.” He shakes his head as he tried to pull you back in, too greedy to even let you slip from his grasp for a second. “I do not mind.” “But i do. Please.” He groans and lets you go as much as he does not wish to. “Fine.” “Do you wish to wash me?” His eyes widen at the idea and his mouth might have even begun to water. “I do not know my lady. Is that a good idea?” “If the prince was not so scandalous it might not be but maybe i was wrong to suggest it.” “I will do as you ask.” “You are a fool.” “Your fool.” He watches as you flush at his words and he calls for the maids to draw you a bath.

He can not help but stare at you as you take off your amour. The leather pieces pilling up on the table as you relieve more and more of yourself to him. It could be poetic, but jacaerys can’t think about anything else like that right now. Not when you stand in front of him, he turns away when you begin to slide off your under clothes. “You do not wish to look at me?” “I am nervous to what i will do when i do my lady.” You say nothing in return but he hears a couple more items drop to the floor and your footsteps on the ground walking towards the bathroom. “Are you going to bath me or not?”

He quickly stands and his hands shake as he makes his way towards the bathroom. He is surprised his knees do not buckle under him as he sees you. Sitting in the tub, steam hitting you oh so perfectly and your bare arms rests against the sides of the tub and he finally sees you fully. “Pick your jaw off the floor my prince.” He can not. He wishes to get on his knees and worship you, he swears he has never seen anything as beautiful as the sight of you. he had thought the most gorgeous you could look is when he saw you in that dress but you look so much better here.

He hesitantly walks over to the bath and kneels right next to you. He grabs the soap and grabs your arm as you carefully watch him. He lightly turns your arm so he can get a full few of the tattoos on your arm. It is a beautifully intricate dragon, it almost completely covers your whole forearm and he can see you have a matching one on your other arm. “What are they for?” “In Volantis when you are of old blood it is customary for you to get dragon tattoos on your arm to symbol your relation to Valyria.” He traces the design with his fingers, admiring the art and the act of you showing this part of you to him. He places a kiss on the dragons head before he begins to lather your arm in soap.

No more words are spoken between the two of you as he washes your back, then your other arm before he moves onto grabbing your hair products and running his fingers through your hair and scratches his nails into your scalp. He hears you hum, your eyes closed in delight and he gulps as he begins to throb against his pants. He watches as you dunk your head under the water to get the product out and you sit back up, looking at him as you run your hands down your face to push away the water. “Why don’t you join me? It would be easier for you to clean me if you were also in here.” He hesitates, nerves build up in his stomach as he opens his mouth but no words come out. “Are you sure my lady?” You smile and nod at him, leaning your head back against the tub to watch him.

He stands and begins to unbutton his tunic, tossing it into some corner of the room. Unlike him you do not take your eyes off him as his bare chest comes into view or even when he begins to unbutton his pants. “My lady is very shameless.” “Is it so wrong i look at you?” He shakes his head before he hesitantly pulls down his pants and he is suddenly standing bare in front of you. He hisses as he cock jumps up to slap him in the stomach leaving you to laugh before he hurriedly moves to sit across from you. The tub is big enough for the two of you to sit side by side but he does not even dare to come that close to you. “You still have a job to do.”

He picks back up the soap and drags it over your collarbone. He watches as the soap bubbles slide down to lay on your breasts and groans to himself as he continues to scrub your down. Ignoring your breasts he instead focuses on your stomach and sides. It feels so intimate, to rub his hands all over your body especially when you continue to let out your own hums of pleasure.

He runs his finger along the long scar down your chest and stomach. “It was a gift from my father. When i turned of age and he found out i was able to be elected. People had begun to suggest i should be nominated in his place. He made sure i would be bedridden for months. They could not nominate me that year.” He leans his head down and presses a kiss against the top of the scar at your neck. “I am glad he is already gone for i would have to deal with him myself.” You reach your hand on his arm and smile at him, nothing more is said but the look in your eyes says enough.

He tries his best to not look between your legs as he washes your legs one by one, he does not allow himself to linger at your thighs before he swiftly pulls his hands away from you. His hands burning as if he had just touched the sun. The bath was now cold. The two of you simply laid their for awhile before you sat up and grabbed his face. “Thank you my prince.” “Jacaerys, jace, not my prince.” You press your lips against his and he groans. The kiss is full of much more fever and desperation this time. He barely believes this is real. He must be imaging this as he had over a moon ago.

You take your hands away from his face and slide them down his chest as he feels your tongue prodding against his mouth he pulls back suddenly causing you to freeze. “Did i do something wrong?” He shakes his head, out of breath as he speaks, “No no nothing wrong. I have imagined this far too often for it to be anything wrong. it is just, i am very sensitive and if you touch me just once i will not be able to perform again.” He hopes you understand what he means. He hopes you know you are not rejecting him, but he wishes for this to go right, and if he is being selfish he does not wish to watch his seed float around in the water but instead flow out of you.

He watches as you stand up and he cranes his head up to look at you. You are the pure image of beauty. He could die now and be content with how he lived for simply getting to breath and stand in your presence is enough for him. He watches as you step out of the tub and he cant help but stare at your ass as you turn your back and walk out of the room, you turn your neck and look at him. “Are you coming?” He quickly stands and follows after you, neither of you bothering to care about the dripping water all over the bathroom and the bedroom. You have sat down on the bed and hold out your hand to pull him on top of you.

He pulls you into another kiss as the two of your skins press against each other. He feels so hot. He hands press against your face as he opens his mouth and allows the two of your tongues to intertwine with one another. His lips leave yours as they instead they begin to trail down your jaw and down your neck as his hands move to grip your waist and pull you closer to him. The two of you stay like that for awhile, and expected to stay like that the whole time but are more than shocked when he grips your hips tightly and flips you around so you are on top and he is on the bottom, you sitting directly over his abs. When you look down at him in confusion he simply smiles at you.

“It is only right you are above me, for you are a goddess who deserves to be worshipped.” His hands slide up your stomach and begin to fondle your breasts as you throw your head back and moan. “gaomagon daor tepagon qrīdrughagon aōha dōna udra sīr easily syt iksan naejot qūvy ilagon se qēlossās se se jēdar syt ao” he easily recognizes the words. The same ones you had told him in the library that faithful day in the keep. “What does it mean?” You moan as he thumbs begin to flick against your nipples and look down at him. “do not give away your sweet words so easily for i am willing to tear down the stars and the sky for you.”

He can not respond, not when he watches as your hips begin to move along his abs, fuck, he can see you essence leaving a trail on him as you use him for your own pleasure. He would let you, use him all day, any day, if it meant he would get to hear the sounds you are currently making, the way your face twists in pleasure with your eyes closed. “Have you ever touched yourself my lady?” You let out a meek hum as you throw your head back, he's hands move from your breasts to your hips to help guild you. “I have Jace, everyday, i can not help it for i am thinking of you.” He lets out his own string of curses at your admission. He watches as you reach one of your hands to your folds and your moans only get louder.

He wants to do that. He wants to know every inch of you to be able to pleasure you in all ways he can. He wants to be the reason you get louder, he wishes for you to desire him, to have to need him like air like he needs you. “Teach me how to do that.” He is more than happy when you remove your own hand and grab his, moving it to slide under you and he curses as he feels your wetness dripping on him. “Are you supposed to be that wet?” “It is because of you Jace.” He feels you move his fingers to push past your folds and he can feel a hard bulb under this fingertips. “That. touch that Issa jorrāelagon (my love),” You moan as you feel his rougher fingers begin to press against it. “In circles, ugh yes like that, you can press harder.”

The roughness of his fingertips feel much better than your own fingers and you can’t help but move your hips faster against him. His fingers move faster against your clit and you can feel the burning in your stomach grow larger. “Issa jorrāelagon, im gonna make a mess.” He groans at your words and uses one hand to move your faster and the other hand to continue to play with your clit. “Please do, fuck, I want to see it, fuck.” Can a man cum untouched? He has no clue but the way his cock is throbbing he swears he is about to burst at simply watching your pleasure. He feels the rush of liquid begin to pool and cover his hand. He moves his fingers and moves them towards your opening as he can not get over the way it feels, the hot liquid pooling over his fingers.

You jump when he pushes two of his fingers inside of you, hissing as he shoves your own cum back inside of you as he touches your gummy walls. “Jace,,,” You moan out as your head drops forward to stare at his wrist. He says nothing but moans as he begins to thrust his fingers in out, barely pulling them out before he shoves them right in. He is fueled by your moans, the way your hands claw at his chest as he is simply amazed by you. You do not know if your walls are covered with your own essence or your own cum as he adds another finger and presses them against your walls.

He wishes to memorize you, to keep this locked tight in his memory for him to look back on. He can barely believe what he is doing and hopes he is doing it right. But when you begin to move against his fingers he knows he must be doing something right. The only words you speak are his name, over and over again as he fingers begin to move faster and faster inside you. The pit in your stomach grows once again and your begin to drag your nails down his chest in pleasure. “I am about to cum jace.” He says nothing this time only moving his free hand to play with your clit which sends you over the edge. He does not remove his fingers are stop his movements simply enjoying the withering pleasure you are feeling

“Please Jace i wish to feel your cock.” This has him removing his hands and you hiss at the sudden emptiness. You watch as he places each of his fingers in his mouth, closing his eyes and throwing his head back, like your own taste is his own personal pleasure. His eyes are cloudy in a haze as he watches you sit up with shaky knees and adjust grab his dick in your hands. He moans as you rub your thumb over his tip, spreading around his precum and pressing down against it. “Do not tease me y/n please.”

He watches as you sit right above him, you sink down low enough that just his tip is rubbing against your folds. You use his tip to push your folds aside and slowly you begin to sink down onto his cock. If he was told this is how it felt after he died he would have believed it. He has never felt a greater pleasure than he has right now. He understands why people consider this act sinful, for everyone would be doing it everyday if it were not. He watches his cock slowly disappear and he lets out a whimper as you sit all the way down.

He can see the dent in your stomach and reaches his hand to touch it. This was unbelievable. He stares at you, the way you look down at his hand and cover it with your own, pressing down causing him to groan and you to moan. Unconsciously you readjust yourself, lifting yourself on him just so slightly just to slide back down and he curses.

That felt so good, he wants you to do that again. “Can i move?” You are clearly as desperate as he is and he hears it in your voice. “fuck please my lady please.” Your hips lift and you come crashing back down onto him. The bed underneath you rocking with the action as you do it over and over and over again. Slowly at first but you begin to create a rhythm as his hands grab your tits to squeeze them.

The room is filled with the sounds of your slamming against him, the wet sounds of him pushing into you and your combined moans. If this made him a sinner so what? He was not religious and he would refuse any god that said this was not the most holy and pleasurable thing to do on earth. He begins to move his hips up to meet yours and he watches your face contort. “We must do this, ugh, everyday.” You nods feverishly as both of his hands moving to your hips to help you bounce faster as his hips begin to harsh slam up into you. “Yes, everyday, every night, ughh, everywhere,” You let out an especially high pitched whimper as he begins to toy with your clit. “All over the castle.”

Yes he would like that, so much. He can see it now, the way he would allow you to sit on the throne as he pounded into you. The way you would sit under the table during meetings and suck him dry while he attempts to maintain his composure, fuck he’ll do this everyday of his life for as long as he lives. He can feel that familiar feeling brewing ever so close in his stomach, “are you close my lady?”

You let out a rush of hushed yes’s as you begin to move faster. “Cum with me my lady, cum please.” You let out more yes’s as he feels you throbbing around his cock causing him to burst. You cry out at the feeling of his hot seed spilling webs inside you as he suddenly flips you around and continues to pound into you as your back hits the bed. “Cum my lady, fuck.” The change of angles hits you so well along with the sounds of wetness splashing below you as he cock pushes his cum deeper inside you and all around your walls.

You suddenly splash over him with a cry and your back arches off the bed. He can feel you hit his upper stomach, all over his thighs and even his chest. You looked so beautiful, the way your eyes shut closed so tight there were crinkles around your eyes and the way your teeth and jaw clenched as he feels you continue to pulse against him, liquid trickling around his cock and out to drip on the bed.

He leans his forehead against yours and the two of you just lay there for awhile. attempting to catch your breathes. He brings one of his hands to caress your cheek and you open your eyes to look at him. “Jace.” “I love you.” You smile, a wide grin fills you face as you chuckle. “I have loved you for a long time Jacaerys.” He kisses you lightly and the two of you simply lay like that until you fall asleep. sharing pecks and tiny whispers of admiration. He can barely believe he got so lucky end up with a woman like you. Someone who loved him so much they would do to the ends of the known world for him even if he had said some cruel things to you. He loved you he loved you he loved you and he was so happy you loved him too.

a.n: This is genuinely the most crazy project of my whole writing career LMAO if you've made it this far i really want to say thank you. It's because of the endless support I've gotten on my recent stuff that really gave me the confidence to write something like this. I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS i love you all so much <3

perm jacaerys taglist: <3

@tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aegonswife

[v1sexual]

dive | vi, arcane

drummer & hockey player! vi x reader

based on this request

warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol, loser lesbians, and author having no hockey knowledge

preface: a quick little blurb (its actually not quick and little) on how you and vi met.

note: okay omg i loved this idea sm thank u anon for this request! i do apologize if this is ass LMAO like all of my fics this was written at around 3am-7am 😔 anyways, should i make this into like a little series or smth also could not think of a title but i was listening to “dive” by ed sheeran while writing this so here we are.

you first met drummer and hockey player vi! during a year-end party on your freshman year of college. it was at a pub called “the last drop” that the student’s from zaun university claimed as theirs. hosting parties, celebrations, wins, and every little victory that they had during the school year at the said pub.

the last dropped was packed. a sea of sweaty bodies, filled every nook and cranny of the place.

you were getting antsy, tucked away in the corner of the booth you and your friends were sitting. as the night dragged on, one by one your friends left the table. some went to go get drinks, some went to socialize, and some went to go dance.

taking that as a sign to leave, you fished your phone from the back pocket of your jeans to text the group chat that you were heading home. but then the loud music stopped, and someone spoke into a mic.

you looked up from your phone, your gaze snapping to the massive stage at the other side of the dance floor. powder, another freshman whom you knew from one of your classes, spoke into the mic. she introduced their band, arcane, and that’s when you saw her.

dark pink hair cut short, she was rocking a black tank top showing her arms as the muscle flexed as she gripped her drumsticks.

“— and lastly we have my older sister vi playing the drums! you probably already knew her she’s pretty popular with the ladies, AND she’s single! but she’s pretty fucking gay though sorry boys.”

you zoned out after that, watching as the band started to play their rendition of a popular song that you couldn’t care less about. the sea of people blended in the background, you kept your eyes on vi watching her every movement in awe. the way she played kept you captivated you swore you could feel every beat of her drums, and then her eyes meets yours.

then she winked at you, her lips stretching into a smile as your heart stuttered against your chest. just as you were about to smile back your best-friend crashed next to you, her body slumping down against your side as she begged you to take her home. sighing, you obliged. you walked out the door supporting your friend’s body weight as much as you can and never looked back.

˚⁎⁺˳ . ⊹ ⋆ﾟ

weeks have passed and you’re back home, you still think about her though. you think about her a lot. you followed arcane’s official instagram account but never followed the members officially, except for powder of course since you two exchanged accounts when paired up for a project.

having nothing better to do, you decided to stalk the band’s instagram. watching reels of them doing song covers, playing pranks on each other, snippets of their original songs, etc.

just as you were about to doze off your door slammed open.

“(name)!!” your five year old sister, andie, shouts. “can you pleaseeee take me to hockey camp?”

you laughed, taking in the younger girl’s appearance. she was wearing full-on hockey gear, her hair in two braid, and she was clutching a duffel bag twice her size in one hand while the other held a hockey stick (that was seconds away from slipping and falling).

you stood up, taking the duffel bag from her, “i thought mom was taking you.”

“she was but i wanted you to go with me,” she shrugged and used her free hand to hold yours. “please?”

you swore your heart melted on sight. you loved your younger sister more than everything in the world, she’s got you wrapped around her little finger from the moment she was born. at first your parents were actually worried at the fifteen year age gap that you and andie had, but fortunately they were worried for nothing when you and your sister became attached to the hip.

“let me know how it goes okay?” your mom says as she kissed the two of you goodbye.

the drive to the rink was fast, only fifteen minutes. it honestly would have been only ten but andie pleaded for you to stop by your favorite café for a pastry and some strawberry lemonade, she was all pouty and batting her eyelashes so who were you to say no. when you arrived, you carried her duffel bag and hockey stick as she held on to the almost empty cup of strawberry lemonade.

andie led you to the locker rooms when she met up with her friends, they were such a cute bunch and you couldn’t help but snap a picture to send to your mom.

“can you help me put my skates on please?” andie asks, her small fingers tugging on your sweatshirt.

“of course you little gremlin,” you grinned and picked her up, setting her down on one of the benches. when you finished, andie hopped down the bench and waddled as she grabbed her hockey stick.

before you let her walk off, you grabbed her helmet and secured it onto her head. she thanked you with a hug then proceeds to hold your hand, dragging you out the locker room and into the rink.

“can you come with me (name)? im really nervous,” she whispered.

you nodded. “of course i will bub, plus i have to talk to your coaches.” andie cheers and hugs your leg as the two of you walked to the rink.

the rink was smaller than you remembered, you swore that it was at least two times bigger two years ago during your last figure skating competition. a smile forms on your lips as old memories began to resurface, if only you didn’t injure yourself then you would have probably still be skating.

“(name)! oh my god what’re you doing here?”

powder’s familiar voice brings you back to the present as she stood up from one of the seats.

“hey pow,” you greeted as she pulled you in for a hug. andie looks away shyly, her small frame hugged your leg as she hid behind you.

“aww, who’s this?” powder asked as she crouched down to andie’s height. your sister peeked at her then buries her face on your leg.

“this is andie, my younger sister.” you said. “say hi to powder ands.” andie detaches herself from your leg and whispered a small “hey”, before running off (more like waddling) when one of her friends called out to her.

you watched as your sister and her friend goes inside the rink with the help of one of her teammate’s parents. once she’s happily skating across the rink, you turned back to powder who dragged you to one of the seats.

the two of you engaged in small talk, asking how each other’s summer were going, the band, etc.

“so,” you started. “why are you here?”

“my sister vi is here! she’s helping coach the kids as a summer job.”

you short-circuited then turned your head to the side of the rink were the coaches are, then lo and behold there she is. violet lanes. she wore a black long sleeve compression shirt, white breezers, and her hair was in a low-bun. she held a clipboard, occasionally writing on it as she talked to the huddle of parents surrounding her.

while you were busy staring at vi, you don’t notice powder as her lips turn up into a shit-eating grin clearly noticing that you’re focus was on something else entirely.

“you should talk to her,” she says casually pulling you away from your thoughts.

“uhm what? no? why would i?” you rambled.

powder laughs at you, clearly entertained as you mutter under your breath. “well for starters she’ll need to talk you about practice schedules, you or your parent’s contact info,”

you let out a small “oh” before sinking back into your chair, holding your head in your hands embarrassed. this only makes powder laugh harder, the blue haired girl clutching her stomach and wiping away an invisible tear.

“oh god you have a crush on my sister!” she exclaims, you only groaned in response.

powder teases you for a good couple of minutes before settling down next to you.

“you know,” she starts. “you’re gonna have to actually talk to her right?”

“yeah i know,” you nodded.

powder hums. “want me to go with you? i can introduce you first, help break the ice?”

“huh, that’s actually not a bad idea.” you tell her. she then stands and pulled you up with her, powder link her arm with yours as she lead you to where vi was.

violet lets out a sigh of relief as the last parent walks off, practice hasn’t even started yet and she was already this tired from just talking to a whole crowd of anxious parents. she checks her clipboard again, eyes flicking through the names of the kids she’ll be coaching today.

“heyyy,” she heard powder call out. vi chose to ignore her sister and continued to check her clipboard, she then stumbles upon a name.

andie (last name).

vi knew that the kid was here, one of the other parent’s mentioned how sweet andie’s older sister was for always showing up to her extracurriculars especially when she was away for university and how she’d always drive the kid around no matter what.

“yo vi?” powder says but this time vi’s younger sister flicks the clipboard she held.

she groans, annoyed at her sister’s antics. “can you not? im busy pow, there’s this kid and i haven’t talked to her guardian yet and i can’t start without—“ your eyes meet and vi stopped talking, from that moment forward she knew she was a goner. she knew you, not personally of course, but she remembered that night from a couple of weeks ago when she first saw you at the last drop.

from the moment you entered her father’s pub, vi could not take her eyes off of you. she debated on wether or not to approach you but her nerves got the best of her so she stayed glued to her seat, pretending to listen to whatever her sister was saying.

“she doesn’t bite you know,” powder said pointing to your direction. “we were paired up for a project and she’s literally the sweetest person to ever exist, talk to her.”

“i don’t know,” vi shrugs and looked at her half empty glass, suddenly finding the half drunken liquor interesting. powder rolls her eyes and decided to talk to their other bandmates, leaving vi alone with her thoughts.

vi downs the rest of her liquor and decided to talk to you, but just as she was about to walk to where you were seated powder grabs her arm. “it’s showtime.” her sister says and violet tries her hardest not to pout as they walked backstage. she drowns the noise out as powder began talking into the mic, to introduce the band. during the time that they were playing she mostly kept her eyes closed or just looking at her drum set, focusing on hitting the right beats.

but then she looked at the crowd, eyes scanning the crowd for you. she wondered if you went home already or if you’ve left with someone or if you’re watching them perform, watching her perform. when vi finally spots you she felt her heart stutter when she found that you were already looking at her, then she winked at you. with a new found energy she played harder, eyes never leaving yours until she saw your friend (who was also powder’s friend) throw herself against you probably drunk out of her mind. vi didn’t take her eyes off you even when you helped steady your friend as the two of you attempted to leave the last drop.

vi thought about that night a lot, she wished she wasn’t such a pussy and approached you. but now you’re here, standing in front of her arms linked with her sister’s. vi opened her mouth and closed it, she didn’t know what to say.

“oh brother,” powder murmured under her breath. “vi this is (name), andie’s older sister.”

“huh?” vi responds which made powder roll her eyes for the millionth time.

“christ on a cracker, remember the kid whose guardian hasn’t talk to you yet? the one you were ranting about two minutes ago? well this is her. (name)’s her older sister and her guardian.”

vi let’s out a small “oh” which made you laugh a bit. “shit im sorry,” she tells you. “i’m just a bit distracted— nervous, i haven’t coached before.”

“oh don’t worry about it,” you smiled. “i’d be nervous too, kids are terrifying.”

as you and vi engaged in small talk, powder took that as a sign and quietly slipped away. she walked towards the side of the rink where ekko was rounding the kids up, she tapped on the glass and pointed to where you and vi were. ekko followed the direction where powder was pointing, he sent her a knowing smile and laughed.

“i didn’t know you play hockey?” you tell her, vi’s eyebrow twitched in amusement. “yeah im actually team captain of our uni’s hockey team.”

you looked at her, surprise and awe evident on your eyes. holy shit not only is she hot, ripped, tattooed, and a drummer, but she’s also the ding dang captain of your university’s hockey team? if you didn’t know you were gay you’d definitely know now.

“guess i’ll have to watch one of your games,” you shrugged. vi grins at you and nodded “guess you should.”

as the two of you talked the more comfortable you became with vi, “how do you manage that though? hockey, school, and the band?” you asked her to which she replied with a shrug.

“i don’t know either,”

you hummed in response as she glanced at her clipboard again. vi cleared her throat and began to discuss your sister’s practice schedule, safety concerns, gear, etc. you happily listened, nodding along and taking mental notes of important stuff you need to let your mom know when you get home.

vi finally looked up from her clipboard and smiled, “so yeah that’s pretty much it.” you replied with a nod.”

“will you be staying?” she asks you. “i mean uhm, are you going to wait for your sister?”

“yeah, im pretty much her chaperone so…” you replied with a smile, your gaze finding andie’s. your little sister waived at you, smiling from ear to ear as you waived back.

if vi wasn’t already smitten with you she definitely would be now as she watched the small exchange between you and your sister. vi has always been a family oriented person, she and her family were close (especially her and powder), and knowing that you were pretty much the same? you just got promoted from being a small crush to her literal ideal woman.

“so does that mean you’ll be dropping her off every practice?” she asks excitedly, which made you chuckle in response. “yeah,” you nodded. “our parents are pretty much swamped with work and my shifts are usually in the mornings sooo, yeah. i’ll be dropping her off and picking her up from practice.”

vi nodded, trying to act as normal as she can when in reality she’s mentally cheering. just as she was about to say something, ekko called out for her. and just like that vi remembered that she was actually supposed to be coaching and teaching the kids hockey.

“i need to help ekko out,” she says. “but uh— can i grab your number?”

“is this you shooting your shot at me or?” you joked. you swore vi’s cheeks became the same hue as her hair, she playfully rolled her eyes at you.

she huffed, “it’s for your sister’s contact information you dummy.”

“sure,” you replied, taking her pen and writing your number down next to your sister’s name in her clipboard.

vi smiles at you and began to head towards the rink, but just before she skated towards ekko and the kids she called out to you. “i lied, that was just me shooting your shot.”

you smiled at her, cheeks heating up. you watched as vi effortlessly skated, her posture and aura changing. watching her demonstrate how to play (with ekko’s help), sent butterflies to your stomach.

oh boy, you can’t wait to actually get to see her play.

note: this is literal ass im so sorry😔 i still hoped ya’ll enjoyed it though.

[yupstillaghost]

✨️Halo & Horns🥀

Part 2

Erik Campbell x Pastor's Daughter Reader

Part 1

Summary: Your parents said you're not allowed to see Erik again after your father caught you alone with him. Erik is unphased by your father's threats towards him, so he makes an attempt to contact you.

Warnings: oral piercing, swearing, strict parents, talks of religion, extreme romantic tension and tooth rotting fluff, shirtless Erik. MDNI

Other: No use of Y/N, description of articals of clothing reader is wearing, but no physical description of reader.

Author's note: so many people wanted to be on the tag list, but unfortunately, I'm capped at 50 mentions per post. So if you didn't make it, I'm sorry 😞 also not me just getting a sudden burst of inspiration and deciding to drop part 2 out of nowhere.

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As soon as you got home from the Campbell's house, you received a lengthy lecture from your parents on the importance of supervised dating. Your father explained that temptation is everywhere, and it's always waiting for us to have a moment of weakness in order to strike. Then your mother explained the importance of faith in relationships and marriage and how Erik Campbell was not the right fit for you. Your father agreed of course.

"That Campbell boy might have seemed charismatic sweetheart, but so was Satan himself" he preached to you. "Dad, don't you think its unfair to judge someone based on their looks and one conversation?" You asked in a meek tone.

"Perhaps. But I could tell straight away that Campbell is not a man of God and he would not be a good influence on you. So it's important that you stay away from him" your dad explained in a more calm manner in hopes of getting through to you. You looked to your mom for her opinion, but she looked back at you with an apologetic glint in her eyes.

"Sweetie, we only want what's best for you" your mother cooed "besides, there are plenty of fish in the sea." You allowed your shoulders to drop and stared down at your lap, feeling defeated. Once your parents indicated that you were free to go, you got off the living room couch and practically bolted to your room. You wanted to slam the door to show your parents how upset you were, but you knew that would only lead to you getting your door taken off the hinges like when you were a child.

You were a grown woman, but your parents still treated you like a little girl and you hated it. But unfortunately, your father was a firm believer in the classic saying "you live under my roof, you live by my rules."

You changed into your pajamas and immediately climbed into bed. You were so troubled after the conversation with your parents that you didn't even have the energy to finish the moth creature in your sketch book. You tried to distract yourself by doom scrolling on your phone, but not even that helped.

Your mind was overloaded with thoughts of Erik. His pale blue eyes, his voice, his little grin, the softness and warmth of his tatted skin. You repeated your interaction with him in your head over and over like a cassette tape stuck on an endless loop. You screwed your eyes shut and roughly ran your hands through your hair before yanking your covers up and over your head. "God, please let me forget him" you prayed silently in the darkness, almost in tears. "Please let me forget about Erik Campbell."

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

The next morning, you sat at the breakfast table staring blankly into your cup of coffee with newly pronounced under eye bags. You barely slept the night before because your prayers to forget about Erik went unanswered. You were up a majority of the night thinking about him, and when you did finally manage to fall asleep, he was waiting for you in your dreams. It was like there was an Erik sized cockroach infestation in your brain.

"Sweetheart, do you mind fetching the mail please? Your father asked you while cutting his sausage links your mother prepared for him. All you did was nod as you slowly stood up and sluggishly walked to the front door.

You made your way down the driveway to the mailbox, the bottom of your fuzzy pink slippers dragging on the pavement. You squinted as the morning sun assaulted your corneas. You were too tired for all of this. It was all Erik's fault. You reached into the mailbox and pulled out an assortment of envelopes. You held them in front of you and sifted through them as you walked back up your driveway.

Bills, bank statements, junk mail, and a folded piece of paper that caught your attention. You stuffed all the other mail under your armpit so you could use both hands to unfold the paper. Once you fully unfolded it, your eyebrows threaded together in confusion. It was a flier for a local tattoo parlor.

"Marked Tattoo & Body Piercing Studio" you read the flier aloud to yourself. It was a strange thing to find in your mailbox, to say the least. Sure, you would sometimes receive fliers in the mail for all sorts of things, but never a tattoo parlor. You couldn't help but feel like there was some sort of significance to it. Your mind wandered to Erik again and the tattoos that adorned his arms.

"Wait a minute...Erik is a tattoo artist" you thought to yourself. Your eyes scanned the flier again. You looked at the address and phone number printed at the bottom of the shop's name. There, next to the shop's phone number, was the letters EC scribbled on the paper. Your eyes went wide when the realization hit you. Those weren't just any random couple of letters, they were someone's initials. EC...Erik Campbell.

Erik was trying to communicate with you discreetly by leaving the flier for his work in your mailbox. So clever, but so risky. You could only imagine what would have happened if it wasn't you who found it. You quickly refolded the paper and shoved it into the pocket of your pj shorts as you swiftly walked up to the front door of your home.

You handed the mail to your dad, and you tried your best to calmly and nonchalantly walk up the stairs to your bedroom. Once you were inside with the door securely shut, you plopped onto your bed and took the flier out of your pocket. With slightly shakey hands, you picked up your phone and dialed the number on the flier.

"What if he doesn't answer?" You considered "What if I'm wrong about this?" Your nerves had your whole body buzzing with anxiety and anticipation. You decided you had to at least give it a try, so you slowly pressed the call button and put the phone to your ear. The phone only rang twice on the other end before someone picked up.

"Marked Tattoo & Body Piercings, Erik speaking" said the familiar male voice on the phone. You gasped slightly as soon as Erik's monotone customer service voice hit your ear. You were shaking. You couldn't believe you were right about the flier and that it was Erik on the phone with you.

"Umm..hi" you spoke softly to make sure your parents couldn't hear you. "Is that you, Peach?" Erik said with more vitality in his tone. You could practically hear the smirk on his lips through the phone.

"Ya..its me" you giggled nervously. You didn't exactly plan out what you were going to say to Erik if he picked up the phone, so to say you were nervous would be an understatement.

"I see you found my little easter egg" he chuckled on the other end. "Yes I did. I applaud your creativity, Campbell" you teased. You heard Erik bite back a laugh on the other end of the phone and your heart rate started to pick up. Just a few hours ago, you thought you would never hear his voice again. But there he was talking right into your ear.

"Well, you left before I could ask for your number yesterday, and I knew I couldn't just walk up to your door because then your old man would start shoving a crucifix in my face" Erik explained with sarcasm at the end. You held back a giggle after what he said about your dad. It was funny to you because it was pretty spot on.

"That's a fair assumption" you agreed with amusement in your voice. The banter between the two of you made you forget your nerves and the fact that you're not even supposed to be talking to Erik. You didn't care. You missed him, you needed this. You needed to hear his voice. You heard Erik take a deep breath through the phone.

"Listen, Peach, the thing is I can't stop thinking about you. I know your parents don't want me near you but honestly, I don't really give a fuck..I need to see you." Erik's confession rocked you. You were dumbfounded. You spent all night thinking about him, and it filled your stomach with an unimaginable amount of butterflies to think that he was going through the same thing.

"You still there?" Erik asked softly. You didn't realize how long you were quiet for. "Ya, I'm still here" you whispered "I wanna see you too, Erik." You and Erik exchanged numbers over the phone while you tried to stay as quiet as possible. Adrenaline was pumping throughout your body. If your parents walked in on you, this could all be ruined immediately.

"Is there any chance I could see you tonight?" Erik asked while sounding hopeful. "You could come by the shop after closing. It would just be the two of us. No witnesses."

You took a minute to ponder the possibility. You thought about how you could go about seeing Erik without your parents finding out. You looked at the flier again, it said the shop closed at 9:00pm. You then remembered you had Bible study tonight at 8:00 with girls from your new church. Judging by the address on the flier and the address of the girls' house that would be hosting Bible study, you could leave early and head right there.

"That sounded creepy, didn't it? I'm sorry, Peach" Erik blurted out, interrupting your thoughts. You giggled as a way to reassure him.

"No it wasn't, I was just thinking it over. I have Bible study tonight, but I can leave early" you said to him through a whisper. You heard Erik let out a single chuckle and you just knew there was a smirk on his lips.

"You're really willing to sneak around for me? Your dad would probably tie boulders to my ankles and throw me in a river if he finds out" Erik exaggerated. Though his assumption was extreme, you smiled none the less at his strange sense of humor.

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him" you responded, feeling like a rebellious teenager for making plans to meet up with a guy you were told to stay away from.

"Then I guess I'll see you tonight, Peach" Erik mumbled in a husky tone. "And bring those drawings of yours with you. I'd love to see them." With that, you said your quiet goodbyes and hung up the phone.

You stared at your bedroom wall and let out the breath you didn't know you were holding. You were stunned by what you just did. You talked to Erik on the phone. You made plans to meet up with him tonight. Your stomach turned wildly. You felt a twinge of guilt for disobeying your parents, but your excitement to see Erik again overpowered it. You were an adult, your parents couldn't keep telling you what to do. You wanted desperately to be free of their rules and expectations, and if the only way to do that was to sneak around, then so be it.

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

You were bouncing your leg with your Bible in your lap as you sat in the circle of women discussing a verse from... Genesis? Exodus? You couldn't remember because you weren't really paying attention. You kept stealing glances at the clock on the wall. It was almost 9:00pm, which meant it was almost time for your rendezvous with Erik. You closed your Bible gently and placed it in your small backpack next to your sketch book. It was time for you to make your escape.

"I'm gonna head out girls, I'm not feeling well" you lied expertly, standing up from your chair and swinging your backpack onto your shoulders. They all wished you well, and you were out the door and power walking to your car in no time. You got into the driver's seat and put the address of the tattoo parlor into your phone's GPS app. You drove the whole way there with a swirly feeling in your stomach, your clamey hands gripping the steering wheel.

When you arrived, your heart felt like it was going explode out of your chest. You made sure to park down the street instead of parking right in front of the shop. You didn't want anyone you knew to drive by and possibly recognize your car. You walked up to the shop with your hood up, feeling like you were about to do something illegal. Seeing the tatted and pierced man you had a crush on wasn't illegal of course, but you couldn't risk getting caught.

You walked into the shop, and almost instantly, you felt out of place. The tattoo parlor was dimly lit and the brick walls gave it an industrial feel. The decor was definitely something your parents would turn their noses up to, but you kind of liked it. The place looked cluttered, but it seemed like an organized clutter.

Throughout the shop were black leather stools and tattoo chairs with a matching black leather couch in the waiting area. The shelves that held various objects like oddities and bottles of tattoo ink were accented with red led lights. It gave the shop more lighting while also adding a sensual feel. Your blue jeans and lavender hoodie were the only colorful things in the whole shop. A stark contrast indeed.

You peered around the corner of the front desk, looking for the man you were there to see. You could hear faint talking over the death metal music playing on the Bluetooth speakers, so you followed the voice.

You then found Erik hiding in the corner of the shop, but he wasn't alone. He was sitting in one of the stools with a girl in the tattoo chair in front of him. It seemed like he was finishing a piercing he did for her. Judging by his gloved hands working in the girl's mouth, he must have given her a tongue piercing.

You cringed a little at the thought. Not because of the tongue ring itself, but you couldn't imagine how bad it must have hurt. You heard Erik trying to have a conversation with the girl while having his hands in her mouth. You stifled a giggle, watching his attempt as you stood about 10 feet away from them.

"So there's this girl, right? She's extremely gorgeous and super sweet. We met at my parent's barbecue yesterday, we got to talking, and we completely hit it off." The girl in chair just made agreeable noises as Erik continued his monolog while screwing on the ball of her new piercing.

"Now I get to hang out with her after work tonight. I'm psyched out of my mind about it. I feel like I could run a fucking marathon" Erik finished screwing on the ball of the piercing and the girl brought her tongue back in her mouth.

Erik looked to his right and saw you standing idoly by, waiting for him to notice you. You felt a whole wave of emotions crash over you when his muted blue eyes connected with yours, but you stomped them down so you wouldn't be overwhelmed. You shyly waved at Erik, and he flashed you that grin that you were thinking about the whole day.

"There she is," Erik cooed to you. "Mind waiting for me up front, Peach? I'm just finishing up." You nodded while replying with a "mhm" before turning and walking back to the front of the shop.

You sat down on the leather couch while you listened to Erik go over the aftercare instructions with the girl he just pierced. You then watched as the girl left out the door, already touching her new tongue ring despite Erik telling her not to. You heard footsteps approaching the front of the shop and Erik came into view from around the corner. He went to the door and locked it and then proceeded to flip the "come in, we are open!" sign to "sorry, we are closed."

"I thought you said no witnesses" you said to him with a smirk to let him know you were only teasing. Erik smirked back at you followed by a snort.

"She came in 10 minutes before closing time, and it was only a piercing. If she came in this late wanting a tattoo, I would have told her to kick rocks." You smiled at him but then you bit the corner of you lip when you realized what he was wearing.

Erik had on the same black skinny jeans and combat boots you saw him in yesterday, but it was the upper part of him that had you stunned. He was wearing a black leather jacket but he didn't have a shirt on underneath. You could see bits of more tattoos that you didn't know he had poking out of the jacket.

You saw a black and gray dragon that spanned across his chest right underneath his collarbones. It was so dark but so detailed that you could still tell what it was from a mile away. Right below it is what probably had you the most speechless. Right under the dragon was a huge skull tattoo that took up the remaining skin of his torso. You just sat there and marveled at him as he sauntered over to you. This man was going to be the death of you.

"Like what you see, Sweets?" Erik spoke in a gravely tone, taking notice of where your eyes were focused. You snapped out of your daze and looked up at Erik, who was now standing over you. You stood up quickly and gazed at Erik with a sheepish look on your face.

"Sorry I was just..." you trailed off, racking your brain for an excuse for your staring. "Don't be sorry, I didn't get these tattoos for people to not look at them" Erik reassured you.

"Did you draw these too?" You asked with curiosity as you took a step closer and placed a hand on the dragon adorning his chest. You quickly realized you were touching Erik's tattoos without checking with him first yet again. There was something about him that just made you forget what personal space was. You tried to withdraw your hand from him, but he gently took your wrist and placed your hand back on his bare chest.

"I don't mind you touching my tattoos, Sweets" Erik said in a low voice, practically reading your mind. The close proximity you found yourself in with him made your brain short circuit. You weren't standing this close to him yesterday. If you were, your father would definitely have an aneurysm.

Erik still had his hand wrapped around your wrist, so he pulled your hand to the right side of his chest. There, you could feel his heart beating rapidly, and you instinctively flattened your palm. Your previous question to Erik was long forgotten, and so was the tattoo on his chest. All you could focus on was his heart rate and the fact that it matched your own.

You were brought out of your head by Erik using his other hand to lift your chin so you could look into his eyes. His eyes gave you that sparkle from yesterday. You didn't realize just how much you missed Erik until now.

Your senses were overloaded with him. The warmth of his skin under your palm. The smell of his cologne mixed with the smell of ink. The sound of his steady breathing in the quiet tattoo parlor. The way that he looked just as handsome and dangerous as the last time you saw him. All that was left was...taste.

No, you couldn't, not yet. It was too soon. You were moving too fast. You slowly took your hand off Erik's chest, his grip on your wrist letting go at the same time. You dropped your gaze down to your feet as you exhaled a stuttering breath. Erik wasn't ready to let you go, but he didn't want to overwhelm you any further. So he settled for holding your delicate fingers in his large hands.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to come on so strong" Erik whispered his apology with sincerity in his voice. Your overwhelmed state shifted to embarrassment. You did not have a lot of experience with romance due to your religious upbringing, and you feared it was evident to him now. What women in her 20s gets overwhelmed by just the probability of a kiss?

"You're fine Erik its just.." you dared to glance back up at him to see a worried look in his bluish gray eyes. "I just don't want to move too fast" you finished with a meek tone. Erik brought a hand to your upper arm and squeezed it gently.

"We can move at whatever pase you want, Peach. I'm here for the ride either way." Erik spoke to you softly while showing you a genuine smile with teeth. Your cheeks took on a pinkish hue after hearing his words. You beamed at him, feeling grateful that he was so patient and understanding.

"So, do you want to see my drawings?" You asked him shyly, and he instantly beamed at you.

"I'd love to"

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[zyonicorn]

Sea, Beach & Her

“Babe!! It’s the beach!!!” after so long, the two of you are finally on a trip to Hawaii with your girlfriend, Jihyo. You know she's very outgoing and she loves the outdoors, that's why you booked your destination as Hawaii.

“Let’s go and take a look. Did you bring your swimsuit?” you asked her as her eyes sparkled. “Of course!! Are you changing?” you didn't plan to, but as Jihyo asked, all you could do is to say yes.

It was not a holiday so there were only a few people on the beach, no one in the changing room. You and your girlfriend entered a different room, hearing her taking off her overalls, and putting on her swimsuit as you heard the strap hitting her skin. You put on your swimsuit as fast as possible, then leave the room and take the bags for your girlfriend, so she can enjoy herself right after.

She walked out in her swimsuit- brown based, with the patterns of green flowers on it. Her cleavage showing, chest round and full, her body muscles perfectly shaped, abs showing the result of her workouts, every part of her was flawless.

“Let’s go baby!” she said and ran out of the changing room in her slippers, you followed her immediately.

She ran under the sun, the light reflecting her defined lines, you hid under the shadow and looked at your girlfriend having fun. “You’re not coming?” she asked from far away. You shook your head, but seeing the disappointment on your girlfriend’s face, you still walked to her and grabbed her waist, enjoying the moment.

“I haven’t put on my sunscreen yet. Would you like to help me?” she asked while looking at you, grabbing your waist this time.

You thought it was normal, so you nodded without hesitation. “Let’s get behind those rocks. I need to get my boob covered too.” sure it may look weird if you’re putting sunscreen on your girl’s chest, so you agreed and found a big rock to hide behind.

You took the bottle of sunscreen and squeezed some on your hand, started to apply it to Jihyo’s back who was lying on the sheet under the shade. Feeling her muscles, you couldn’t help but touch her skin more, it was so smooth and you felt her temperature.

“When are you finishing babe” She seemed to notice your behavior. “Oops, sorry, please turn around,” you asked Jihyo.

She turned and faced you now, her chest spreading naturally, you couldn't control it and stared. “Like my chest so much don’t you?” she teased. “Well you got to touch them today,” she said and led your hand with sunscreen to her boobs. You blushed, Jihyo knew everything. You applied the sunscreen on the upper part of her boobs and her collarbone. “It's not fully covered,” your girlfriend says. Before you could understand what she said, she took your hand and put it under her swimsuit, feeling her nipple and warm soft chest. You gasped from her being unusually attentive.

You spread the sunscreen on her breasts, trying to act like it's nothing, but your red cheeks betray you. The Hmphs she made (intentionally) are somehow turning you on, which she noticed. “Do you want me to help you too?” she asked. Although you know she might do something weird, for example touching your sensitive areas to tease, you still nod. She sat up and you’re the one lying down now, feeling her temperature on the sheet, also on her hands. 

She helped you with your front first, applying the sunscreen on your neck, collarbone, chest, stomach, thigh, every inch she could reach. Moving her hands from the upper body to your waist, then to your inner thigh, she hit your pussy with the side of her hand intentionally. You hissed from the sensation it brought, until she started to slowly draw small circles on your inner thigh. The atmosphere changed in the blink of an eye, you blushed and squinted your eyes, warning her if she did anything more than that. “I thought you were enjoying it” she smirked. 

“We are in public, Jihyo! People might walk past and see whatever we’re doing-” she cut you off before you could finish, leaning towards you for a kiss. “And that's the interesting part.” her hand moved from your thigh to your clit, slightly poking out from the fabric. “You fucking like it” She smiled into your mouth, eyes closed, forehead brushing on yours, starting to slowly rub on your clit. 

“Hmph someone will see us” You tried to stop her by pushing her shoulders away, but damn her workouts were worth it, she was strong enough to press you underneath. 

Her voice was steady and soft, “People won’t know as long as you’re quiet and obedient” “It has been a while isn’t it?” She stopped before continuing, checking your reaction. “And only if you fuck me well here, I might let you save your strength for walking.” She said.

Jihyo took off the underwear that you'd just put on in the changing room a little while ago, circling your hard, slippery clit. Without edging for longer, she put one finger in and started thrusting, not giving you time to adjust.

“Hmph aghh hmmm” You covered your mouth with the back of your palm, the mixture of pain and pleasure washing over your body.

“W-wait Jihyo” You wanted to stop her because you still didn't think it was suitable to have sex here, and also because it hurt so much after a long time. 

“What?” she asked. You hesitated, “I-it hurts..” “And I still think we shouldn't be doing it here.” she stopped her thrust and listened to your soft voice carefully. 

“But you’re so wet already, clenching me so hard with your tight pussy… Are you sure you want me to stop?” the bottom of your mind wanted her to keep going, yet the situation is not giving you a chance to think.

She pulled out her finger, ready to stand up and pack. “No- no I mean.. Finish this first..” you said out of frustration, stretching your cunt open with two fingers, showing your pussy to Jihyo fully, signaling her to put her finger back into your hole, which is throbbing from the sudden emptiness.

“Oh so now you want to be fucked?” she smirked and looked at you from above. “You know what to do.”

“P-please..” You faintly breathed. Jihyo always asks you to beg her in bed, ‘training’ you to beg even without her asking now.

“Yes sweetie,” she said and plugged two fingers in this time, immediately started moving them in and out.

“Agh emmmm” you bit on your finger and another hand clenched onto the sheet below. Her voice steady and soft, her juice oozing out of her pussy. “Feeling good?” “Hmph so good..” you have to keep your volume down, but each hit brings you more and more pleasure. 

You felt your organism building up in your stomach, and your heart felt like it was twisted, raising your feet and clamping the hand below uncontrollably. “Baby I- I’m so close- Agh” you moaned into your hand as the woman kept crashing her fingers into your flesh. 

“I want to hear you say my name, love” Her smile or pride enlarges as she sees you tensing up, curling her fingers just to hit your spot more delicately.

“J-jihyo please please hmph” You held your breath as you felt your release, “Breath baby,” she said as she pulled out her finger with a Pop sound. 

“Agh” you breathed out hard and lost strength, hands on your face collapsing onto the sheet, you panted slowly as you noticed Jihyo’s gaze, pouting and seems to be signaling you something.

You looked at her and asked, “Do you want me to do it too, Jihyo?” 

“Yes please!” she sounded like a child somehow, you melt at her tone.

You sit up as she kneels next to you, one hand on the back of her head, another in her smooth soft hair, pulling her for a kiss.

“We will do it slowly, cuz you know you make a lot of noise,” you teased between kisses. You moved the hand in her hair down, resting on her chest as you felt her heat through the swimsuit. You sneaked under her loosened fabric, and the strap fell off her shoulder, making her look messy and horny.

“Mm” her low moans breathed into your mouth as you flicked her nipples, occasionally squeezing the boobs. So soft and warm, you kissed her harder to stop her moans, but it turned out louder. “Shh-” You pulled away just enough to see her eyes, her breath a few centimeters away. You crashed your lips onto her’s again. You don’t know if you're sweating because of the hot weather or Jihyo.

Her hand reached for yours on her neck, guiding it to her crotch. “That's it, fuck me” she sounded out of breath, almost commanding. “Stay quiet” you whispered. She nodded obediently like a puppy, eyes shining, all innocent and cute. 

You started by rubbing her clit with your middle finger through her cloth, feeling its hotness and her weak whimpers every time you circle. Jihyo hisses from the sensation. 

“Mmm,” she whined softly and pushed your hand further, feeling the coldness on your finger, moist and erotic. 

“Can I?” You asked. “Emmm” she started to grind on your finger in response. 

“So eager and needy” you whispered into her ears. Face to face, a few inches away, you felt her hot breath on your skin, her scent making you so dizzy that you almost forgot that you were in public.

You pushed the fabric covering her pussy to the side, feeling her skin- so wet and hot, you teased around the entrance. To your surprise, she pushed herself onto your finger, basically sat on it. 

You smirked at her eagerness, starting to thrust your finger in and out, soon adding one more. “K-kiss me” Jihyo’s voice shaky, leaning closer that her upper lip brushed through yours. Her breath seems to be leading your red lips, you kiss her without hesitation. Sloppy, open-mouthed, that’s how you describe it. As you thrust harder, hitting her g-spot intentionally, she moaned into your mouth, her kiss getting hungrier.

Her voice is getting louder, along with the wet sound and the waves, you break the kiss as a string of saliva connects the two of you.

You stopped your thrust, holding your fingers in and occasionally brushing her g-spot, but slow enough to hang her on the edge, your thumb drew circles on her hard clit slowly.

“Plea-please baby please I'm so close-” she begged, her voice soft and lovely, making you melt. “But I told you to stay quiet,” “I-I’m sorry baby I will stay quiet from now on- hmph” She started to ride your fingers, moving with her hands on your shoulder, her boobs bouncing in her swimsuit. 

“Slut.” you said as you pulled out your hand, holding her waist and signaling her to turn around. She’s now kneeling on the sheets, her elbows supporting her weight, which would definitely leave bruises later. 

You licked the dripping juice on your fingers, then shove them right back into Jihyo’s wet cunt. Her flesh immediately wrapped around your joint, slick leaking out as she clenched hard. She frowned, you looked at her from the side and started to thrust your fingers.

Her silent screams as you sped up makes you proud. It has always been Jihyo satisfying your needs, and now you get to handle everything.

Your slick oozing out of your own pussy, seeing Jihyo’s lewd and needy expression, you fingered yourself while working in Jihyo’s wet cunt. You bit onto your lower lips, enjoying the pleasure your fingers brought for yourself and Jihyo.

“Hmph” she uncontrollably whined. You heard that and decided to stop her. Taking the fingers on your pussy, you shove them in Jihyo’s mouth, forcing her to lick and suck your juice.

“I told you to shut up.” You tried to keep your voice steady, Jihyo tasted your water and sucked on it like she was having a delicious meal. “Almost there” she breathed out, barely audible. “Please”

“Shh,” You said and turned her over, now she’s facing up. You backed up and put your tongue on her swollen pussy. Angle up your fingers, and hitting her g-spot as she clenched harder, her cunt wetter and hotter, you heard her quiet moans.

The tip of your tongue flicked on her clit, sucking her juicy folds forcefully, earning a moan from Jihyo. You got up, lips covered with her slick and your saliva from the sloppy kisses. “Shut up or I’ll stop” You pushed your arm again and again, each hit harder than before, and every time your palm hit her wet pussy made a lewd sound. 

Jihyo’s fist clenched on the sheet below, her other hand covering her mouth as hard as possible, trying to stop her sound. “Hmph em agh hmph-” she shut her eyes, a drop of tear rolled down the corner of her big eye, her hand not covering her moans well.

“Noisy” you smirked and whispered, “Cum for me” 

“Ahh hmph” she held her breath, soon started panting as she released her hand, her cunt clenched onto your fingers trying to pull you back in.

“Phew- that was awesome baby,” she said, voice shaky.

You didn't give her any time to rest, but grind your erected clit on her thigh. “Again” your voice soft, begging for more. She smiled, shooting her gaze into your needy eyes. “I thought you wanted to end this as soon as possible” “Don't you hate it in public?”

“I don't care, fuck me,” you said and leaned down, kissing Jihyo while grinding. Glad that no one found out until then two of you finished, from afternoon till dawn.

——————————————————————

Ik it's short and low quality am sry 🙏

[enwoso]

best kind of chaos | alessia russo x child!reader x leah williamson

-> based on this request!☀️

grumpy masterlist

it was barely ten a.m. and in the greece sun was already touching 35°C, the kind of dry heat that made the sand feel like walking on toast. but you, of course, was entirely unbothered by this.

alessia was trying to apply sunscreen to you as you became very wriggly, and kept insisting you ‘didn’t need it because you were part camel now.’

“camels till get sunburn, lovie" your mummy muttered, wrestling you into stillness while leah filmed the whole ordeal from her lounger, laughing.

"are you helping or being a terrible girlfriend?" alessia asked over her shoulder.

"i’m documenting memories," leah replied casually. "for when she's sixteen and hates us and i need proof she once liked us and thought camels were her cousins."

once you were lathered in spf fifty and released, you ran into the distance close to where the sea could touch your toes but no further as you screamed “FOR THE DRAGON KINGDOM!"

"have we entered a fantasy phase?" leah asked, sipping her slushie again.

alessia sighed before giggling watching you pick at the sand as you jumped a little each time the cool sea water touched your toes. "i’m pretty sure we live in it now."

"look, mummy! i’m a sand dragon!" you screeched, running back towards the loungers, your legs and feet absolutely covered in sand.

alessia, perched under an umbrella with sunglasses too big for her face and a rapidly melting iced coffee in hand, blinked. "what happened to building a huge castle?"

"i changed my mind," you called back, digging what looked like a moat with a plastic spade and one bare hand. "dragons are more interesting. and hotter. like here."

leah snorted from beside alessia, reclining with a slushie that you had demanded your mama "share or perish." "she’s got your dramatic gene."

alessia tilted her head, her mouth slightly wide. "you mean she’s picking up on your habits and attitude”

leah gave her a faux-offended look. "hey i’m very calm. i have slushie energy."

"not when someone steals your straighteners."

"that happened one time—"

but the two were interrupted by a tiny voice shouting, "mama mama, I NEED YOU!" like it was a code red problem and with your big imagination it probably was.

leah groaned good-naturedly and got up, placing her drink down on the little table. "there’s my cue."

alessia watched, heart full, as leah knelt beside you, as you were now presenting a wonky sand structure with a bucket on top and two palm leaves sticking out.

"this is your sand castle-slash-dragon cave-slash-ice cream shop," you explained seriously. "we sell ice cream and roars."

"what flavour roars?" leah asked, trying not to laugh but saying in deep character.

"strawberry-screamy."

lunchtime had came around and as you three found a cute little place near the beach for food you had insisted they all order ‘round food’ so they were now eating mini pizzas and olives while you carefully placed all the things you didn’t like on your mummy’s plate — like the olives.

alessia leaned across the table. "this is definitely not relaxing, you know."

leah smiled sweetly. "it’s better." leah then leaned over to close the gap between her and alessia sharing a kiss just as you gasped dramatically.

"mummy! mama! you can't kiss right now—my dragon ice cream shop is OPEN!"

leah raised a brow. "does it sell parent-free minutes?"

"no," you said, very serious as you shook your head. "but it does sell quiet juice. it orange. but it's only pretend."

⸻

lunch was well over as the three were now back in the beach, you building your dragon ice cream shop more as you’d dragged leah back over to help.

the sun hung lazily overhead, glinting off the warm sea water as the heat had mellowed into something almost dreamy, and alessia, miraculously, was alone. sort of.

alessia was stretched out on a lounger under the shade of a palm, eyes closed, soft music playing through one airpod. a half-empty iced drink sat on the little table beside her. peace. quiet. no sand in her hair, no tiny voice calling her name on repeat.

in the sea, about ten metres away, leah was playing water dragons with you—an elaborate game that mostly involved roaring, splashing, and you riding on leah’s back pretending you were a ‘sea unicorn but also a lifeguard.’

alessia smiled without opening her eyes as she could hear leah’s elaborate story telling and your giggles.

five minutes. that’s all alessia needed. five—

"MUUUMMMMYYY!"

alessia sat up just in time to see a blur of the pale blue flower patterned swimsuit and wild curls come bounding from the water, with leah chasing behind yelling, "angel! wait—your feet are all wet—"

too late.

you launched yourself at the sun lounger like an olympic event, landing directly on alessia’s towel-covered legs with a squelch. water. everywhere

alessia let out a yelp as cold pool drips soaked her cover-up.

"lovie!" alessia laughed, trying to wriggle away but only succeeding in getting wetter. "you little monster!" you beamed, entirely unbothered, limbs slippery and gangly as you wiggled up beside your mummy.

"i missed you," you announced cheerfully, wrapping soggy arms around your mummy’s middle.

leah jogged over, breathless and grinning, towel slung over her shoulder. "i told her you needed a break."

alessia smirked, smoothing your wet curls back from her face. "i had a break. it lasted exactly four minutes and forty-three seconds."

"oh a record!," leah said proudly. "we’re improving."

alessia rolled her eyes fondly, shifting so you could snuggle in closer. despite the dampness, you were already blinking slowly, body limp with that familiar post-swim exhaustion.

"she’s gonna crash," leah whispered, watching you with a soft smile.

alessia nodded, running a hand up and down your back, which was still damp but now wrapped loosely in a fresh towel. "dragon patrol has really wore her out," alessia murmured.

within minutes, you were asleep—one hand fisted in your mummy’s top, your breathing soft and steady, a tiny whistle escaping from your nose.

alessia didn't move. didn’t dare.

leah leaned over and kissed the top of your head, then pressed a warm kiss to alessia’s cheek too. "peace now?" leah asked, teasing.

alessia smiled, her arms wrapped around the little bundle of joy and chaos and sunscreen that was you. "yeah," alessia whispered. "but i kinda liked it better with the chaos."

leah settled in beside the two of you on the edge of the lounger, resting her head against alessia’s shoulder. "me too."

you were well and truly asleep now, curled like a cat against alessia’s chest, your towel cocooned tight and your little foot twitching every so often from a dream no one could access.

leah stayed close, perched at the edge of the lounger, one arm slung lazily over alessia’s legs. her other hand was tracing small shapes against alessia’s shin, like she didn't even realise she was doing it.

for a while, they just existed like that—together, quiet, listening to the soft rustle of palm leaves and the occasional splash from other guests in the sea.

then leah leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to alessia’s lips, slow and unhurried. treasuring the fact that they could have this little moment without you fake gagging around them.

"y’know," leah murmured against alessia’s skin, "the girls are probably halfway through their second round of daiquiris in ibiza by now."

alessia chuckled softly, adjusting you just a little as she shifted. "bet katie's already lost her shoes."

"and beth’s probably dj’ing off someone's portable speaker," leah added with a slight chuckle

they both laughed—quiet, breathy laughter so they wouldn't disturb your tiny sleeping dragon form in alessia’s arms.

leah brushed a damp strand of hair from alessia’s forehead and rested her hand on her cheek. "do you miss it?"

alessia looked down at you, who had just started sleep-mumbling something about mermaids and orange juice, then up at leah with a smile so full it could split her heart.

"i miss sleep. i miss wearing white without getting yoghurt handprints on it. i miss silence sometimes. but..." alessia shook her head softly, her eyes glassy with warmth. "no. i don't miss that. not really."

leah nodded, her thumb tracing gently along alessia’s jaw. "me neither."

they sat in that tiny moment, love stretched between them like a hammock—warm and steady and swaying in the soft breeze. "feels like we're in our own world, doesn't it?" leah said.

alessia turned slightly and kissed her. properly. unhurried, sun-warmed, soft. the kind of kiss that felt like home. when they broke apart, leah’s eyes crinkled. "she’s gonna wake up in an hour and scream for ice cream for dinner."

"i know," alessia said, brushing her thumb across your cheek. "and we'll let her. even if she only eats two bites and then drops the rest in the sand."

they both laughed again. alessia reached for leah’s hand and laced their fingers together over your tiny sleeping form.

"we could be in ibiza, sure," alessia said softly. "but we're here. with her. with each other. and i wouldn't trade that for a thousand daiquiris."

leah squeezed alessia’s hand. "not even the strawberry ones you love?"

alessia gave leah a playful glare. "especially not even the strawberry ones."

leah leaned her head back on alessia shoulder, eyes closed now, breathing in the coconut sunscreen, salt water, and the quiet weight of the best kind of love.

and under the greek sun, wrapped in towels and laughter and the kind of peace you only earn after a wild morning, they stayed there. just the three of them. exactly where they were meant to be.

[rassicas]

Ive always wondered.

Since fruit and grain consumption is so commonplace in Splatoon's culture. Wheres all the alcohol?

Inkfish society evolved almost the same as humans did, and one of humanity's first known inventions was the cultivation of alcohol through wild grain and fruits. It was also a neccesary process in ancient city-dwelling, as it could make unsafe water drinkable.

So the question stands, did Inkfish develop alcohol just as we did? Of course i doubt any mention of it in-game because its a (mostly) family friendly series.

Lookin at you Flight VS Invisibilty splatfest

they absolutely did develop alcohol!

>i doubt any mention of it in-game because its a (mostly) family friendly series you're in for a surprise bud

Squeezer using a champagne bottle is the most explicit in game example. Now for Flow, she canonically loves to drink. In JP she sounds loopy and mysterious when she speaks because she's... probably drunk.

Her name is Flow, a sea slug. She is a sales clerk at Headspace, a store that sells head gear. She always speaks as if she is drunk, giving off a mysterious air. She appears to be older than the Inklings, and seems to enjoy teasing the younger squids. Her companion, Craymond, is a considerate shrimp who gently watches over her.

This character trait of hers got censored in english, notably on the Splatoon Base website

the highlighted text in JP reads that she's "a drunkard who loves alcohol"

There is also this official artwork (my Favorite official art. btw.) of Sashimori, Hightide Era, and Bottom Feeders at a bar, with Bertie, Ryu Chang, and Taka at the counter drinking what looks to be alcohol.

[spitefulsatanfics]

=°=°=°=°=°=°=°=°=

\ The Sniffle King ™ /

“You're gonna wipe my nose and everything, huh?”

— Dean Winchester, probably

=°=°=°=°=°=°=°=°=

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader (she/her)

Tone: Sick!Dean, Crybaby!Dean, Domestic Romance, Pure Fluff, Cuddles, Nurturing!Y/N, Carer x Sick, Established Relationship

Rating: M (Cursing, Sickness, Kissing/Cuddling, Mentions of Canon Supernatural Themes)

Based On: Supernatural – Seasons 11–12, non-episode-specific, canonical “Bunker Era” setting

Word Count: 6,800 words

Written By: Little Devil ♡

Synopsis

Dean Winchester could survive a Hellhound mauling, stare down Lucifer with only a flask of whiskey, and pull the trigger on a demon without blinking. But a head cold? That’s the real apocalypse.

When Dean catches a brutal cold, he folds like a lawn chair. With Sam away on a salt-and-burn run, the bunker becomes a battlefield of tissues and dramatic sighs—and Y/N, the only woman stubborn and tender enough to nurse him through it, becomes the general of this sniffling war. Between warm soup, quiet cuddles, and a few vulnerable confessions, even Dean has to admit: love might be the best medicine after all.

= Scene One =

—Men of Letters Bunker, Tuesday Morning—

The silence was eerie.

Not “monster-lurking” eerie, but eerily peaceful. Sam had left early that morning, muttering something about grave dirt and vengeful spirits. Dean had waved him off, face already pale, voice already hoarse.

Y/N wandered the stone halls now, sweater sleeves pulled over her hands. Her breath fogged lightly in the cold air—down here, winter didn’t care about central heating.

She paused outside Dean’s door. The sound that met her ear wasn’t gunfire or snarling demons. It was worse.

It was the loudest, most miserable groan this side of the veil.

She knocked gently. “Dean?”

Another groan. “Oh god… tell Sam he can have the car.”

She pushed the door open with a soft chuckle. The sight nearly broke her: Dean, sprawled sideways on the bed, buried in blankets like a Viking ship sinking into the sea of cotton. His hair looked like it’d had a fistfight with the pillow. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, blinked sluggishly under puffy lids.

Tissue graveyard. Cough drop wrappers. One sock.

“Dean,” she murmured again, stepping inside.

“I’ve got… whatever the Black Plague evolved into,” he croaked. “It’s the end, sweetheart.”

Y/N arched a brow. “You have a cold.”

He sniffled so hard it sounded like sandpaper on metal. “Don’t minimize this. I’m on death’s doorstep.”

She laughed softly and walked to his side, hand smoothing his hair. “Poor baby. Need anything?”

“Soup,” he whispered, pathetically. “But the good kind. The one with the stars.”

She blinked. “Chicken and stars?”

He nodded like a martyr. “They go down easy. I don’t think I have the strength to chew.”

“Okay, hero,” she teased, kissing his sweaty forehead. “Stay here. Try not to die in the next fifteen minutes.”

=°=°=°

= Scene Two =

—Kitchen, 30 Minutes Later—

The clatter of pots and the hum of the stove softened the bunker’s usual cathedral-like silence. Y/N moved with purpose: dicing garlic into the broth, brewing his favorite tea—green with honey and lemon, soothing and clean.

Dean could survive anything but being babied. Which meant, of course, she was going to do exactly that.

She assembled the tray like a rite: soup in a ceramic bowl, crackers stacked like soldiers, tea steaming beside the note she scribbled in loopy handwriting. One little heart drawn at the bottom.

When she returned, Dean looked like he hadn’t moved—except now, he’d added a dramatic arm flop over his face.

“You brought a tray?” he rasped, eyes peeking from under his arm.

“Yup. Napkin’s even folded.”

“Why’re you so nice to me?” he mumbled, trying to sit up. She helped him gently, fluffing pillows behind his back.

“Because you always take care of me,” she said simply. “Now let me spoil you.”

He blinked slowly at her, and she caught it—just the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. That wall he usually kept ten feet high? It cracked a little when he was like this.

“Okay,” he murmured. “But if I die, bury me with Baby.”

Y/N grinned and handed him the spoon. He took one sip, paused, then whispered reverently: “You added rosemary.”

“Dean,” she said, laughing, “you’re crying over soup.”

He sniffled again. “You don’t understand. This is medicinal.”

She settled beside him. He leaned into her side like muscle memory—his cheek warm against her ribs, fingers curled around her thigh like a lifeline.

“You ever get sick as a kid?” she asked softly.

He was quiet a moment. “Once. Bad flu. Dad was gone, Sam was little. I stayed in the car so he wouldn’t catch it.”

Her heart ached.

“You don’t have to do that anymore,” she whispered. “You’ve got me now.”

Dean turned his head, pressing a soft kiss to her side. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Lucky me.”

=°=°=°

= Scene Three =

—Evening, Dean’s Room—

The bunker glowed with that strange, golden quiet that came only at the tail end of long days. Y/N lay stretched on the bed, Dean curled against her, blanket slung around them like a cocoon. His fever had dropped slightly, though his nose was still red and he snored like a congested bear.

He stirred with a grumble. “I’m leaking.”

She grabbed a tissue and dabbed his nose gently.

“Seriously?” he said, voice husky. “You’re gonna wipe my nose and everything, huh?”

“Shut up and blow.”

He obeyed, then groaned. “Dignity. Gone.”

“Dignity died somewhere between the second blanket burrito and the crying over soup,” she teased.

Dean smirked. “Sue me. You cook like a damn angel.”

He went quiet again, breath warming her skin where his face was pressed. She stroked his hair slowly, watching his lashes flutter.

“I’m sorry I’m such a baby,” he said finally, voice soft.

“You’re not a baby,” she replied. “You’re sick. You’re allowed to be taken care of.”

“I’m not used to it.”

“I know.”

He looked up at her then, truly looked. “You’re the only thing in this whole damn bunker that makes me feel safe.”

Her heart cracked open like thunder.

“You are safe,” she said, threading her fingers with his.

Dean reached up and brushed her jaw with the back of his knuckles. His voice, rough as gravel but soft as rain:

“I love you.”

She smiled, leaned down, and kissed him. It was slow and sweet and tasted faintly of honey and menthol.

“I love you, too,” she whispered. “Even when you’re snotty.”

Dean groaned. “You’re never gonna let me live this down, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

They laughed together, low and sleepy. Then she pulled him close, wrapping him in arms and blankets and home.

And in that silence, with only the sound of their breathing, the world outside the bunker could’ve burned and neither would’ve noticed.

\ “My baby’s sick, so I guess the world stops.” /

=° Written by Little Devil ♡ =°=

[a-mint-bear]

The Villain is Obsessed With Me

You're the newest big-name hero in town, and one villain in particular has been giving you more trouble than the rest. You can usually handle her, but she keeps coming back for more. Her power is terrifying, and she doesn't care that she hurts people. The only thing she seems to care about is you.

[content warnings: blood, violence]

· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ✦ · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

Earth’s top superhero group, the Champions of Right, which the public lovingly called “The Core” (despite the obvious lack of an E in the acronym) had recently lost a lot of heroes. They’d sacrificed themselves fighting and defeating some huge intergalactic evil and the team needed new members. And now, you were one of the “core” heroes. 

You’d been called up to the big leagues, which came out of nowhere, considering you were just some lucky idiot who got their powers in a random accident. But you were strong, and you had solar/light energy-based abilities, which your agent (which you suddenly needed?) said was really great for metrics, “a real light vs. the darkness thing going for you.”

You had above average strength and agility, and it was harder to hurt you, all of it coming from stored-up solar power in your skin through your suit. What was unique to you was your ability to convert the light into what you called “hard-light energy”, where you could make things like shields and weapons; stronger when you’d been in the sun. but if you’d been fighting for too long out of direct sunlight, it would get weaker and weaker until it would just fizzle out. Then you were just a human who could take more of a beating than the average human, until you couldn’t.

You went from mostly playing backup to the big heroes, stopping small crimes and the occasional giant monster fight to being one of The Heroes that people called for all the disasters and big bads trying to take over the world or steal the Eiffel Tower or whatever stupid plot they came up with. It was honestly exhausting, but people were depending on you, so you just had to go with it. 

You’d been on the job well into the evening when you’d gotten an emergency call from headquarters. They had a lead on something they’d been looking into, and it seemed like if you didn’t do something about, they’d lose their lead. Everyone else was on call with some kind of monster coming out of the sea, and evacuating the nearby city before it could wander onto land. 

You broke into some kind of underground facility, it looked long abandoned, but you’d been told that this was where everything was going down. Your eyes glancing around the room, you were searching for signs of what you came for, gauging how you could approach the situation. Your powers weren’t as strong here, with no sunlight. You were running on reserves, but you were the only hero available, so of course you came.

There’d been a rash of abductions in the city you mainly worked in, and it had this particular villain group’s prints all over it. They were the sort of organization that was so secretive, they didn’t even have an official name. They weren’t interested in things like world domination or the like. They were known for more underground type crimes; kidnapping and ransoms, human trafficking, assassinations, and working as hired superpowered muscle for the highest bidder. 

So chances were good that they were taking people for something… not great.

It was considered “lower priority” than the monster, so they’d only sent you. You were known to be able to handle this sort of thing on your own, even before you’d gotten promoted. Team-ups were a whole thing in your world, it was never just “Hey, thanks for the help!”, it would spin into interviews and marketing and rumours of relationships, and if the other hero ever got caught up in something sketchy, you were on everyone’s radar. It was too messy for you. So being on a “team” was new to you, but they let you be most of the time.

But now that you were on top of the proverbial superhero heap, you had bigger bad guys coming at you. And you were usually able to take them on no problem.

But there was only one villain you weren’t quite sure how to handle, for a few reasons. 

· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ✦ · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

“Oh! You’re here!”

She was standing alone deep in the lower levels of the compound in a wide, dark room. The ceiling was high, but it still somehow felt claustrophobic.

She was about your height, but a tiny bit taller with those boots she wore. Her bright pink hair stood out against the dark, both of the room and her villain outfit. Her face had some bruises and bandages on it, the remnants of an old split lip still lingering… It seemed like she was still a little roughed up from your last encounter.

“I was hoping they’d send you!” She sighed a dreamy sigh, you could practically see the hearts floating over her head. She really played the lovesick fool well, and it was her go-to move with you. 

It wouldn’t be hard to get around her, but the whole thing still made you nervous. She had that usual huge, unsettling smile as she watched you come in, despite her still-healing injuries, she still smiled as she stared. She was practically bouncing with excitement. 

This had to be some kind of trap.

“It’s you again, sunshine! I missed you…” she pretended to pout, like you had disappointed her, absently twirling a curl in her short hair. “You don’t call, you don’t text… What’s a girl supposed to think?”

Brushing past her usual theatrics, you ask her what her group was trying to pull, as they usually didn’t make themselves this noticeable.

“Ignorin’ me… rude.” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Sorry sunny, I’m just following orders. I can’t just go babblin’ on about all the little details, not even for you.”

You demanded to know where their victims were, taking a defensive stance. 

“Oh, I can tell you that one.” she took a step closer, and you took a fighting stance. “Most of the randoms we snatched up are already on their way. But the Big Boss said I could keep a few.”

You froze, your eyes going wide. You knew it was a possibility as soon as you saw you were dealing with her, but you hoped against hope she wouldn’t.

This woman’s powers were terrifying.

She called herself Whisper. Though, she often went by Whisp as a casual alias. No legal name known. She was agile and sneaky, able to disappear into her surroundings. She was really good with a pair of knives and she didn’t like to play fair, which in all honesty was expected for a villain. But her main ability was what made her so frightening.

As her name implied, if she got in someone’s ear they fell under a kind of trance, becoming her “puppet” until she lost consciousness. No one knew how exactly it worked, but there were few who could resist it. Her victims would do whatever she wanted them to until someone stopped her, usually you. Other heroes weren’t so lucky. 

To her, it didn’t matter if her puppets got hurt or worse. She knew you were the type of hero to never leave innocent people behind or sacrifice anyone for “the greater good”. So she never showed up alone.

She snapped her fingers, and from the edges of the dark room came the shambling figures of who you suspected were your missing persons. Their eyes were red, like her own, the tell-tale sign that she’d taken control. 

You pulled up a hard light shield, the warm glow of it lighting up the dark just enough, her puppet bouncing off it before coming at you again. You spotted another coming for you from the dark and blasted a bit of concentrated light from your hand, temporarily blinding them. The shield flickered a bit, but held strong for now. You couldn’t keep it up.

They were throwing punches at you and trying to grab you, but you leapt away, not wanting to hurt any of them. They were coming from behind you now, there had to be at least a dozen. They kept coming, you knew they didn’t care about their safety. They always fought as hard as she needed them to. And they always came at you harder than other heroes because she knew you wouldn’t hurt them.

You couldn’t let her get close, even though she wanted that more than anything. 

“You better do something soon~” she warned you in an eerie sing-song voice. “You know they won’t stop.”

Knocking another hostage away, you charged up just enough for some hard light shards and shot them at her. She managed to knock two away with her knife, a short burst of light dying as she deflected them, but the third one nicked her shoulder. A long, thin burn glowed there for a few seconds before fading into the dark before she hopped back a little.

“Geez, you got me good, sunshine.” she winced, rolling her injured shoulder. “But it looks like you’re not glowing as bright as you usually do… Poor thing. Are you feeling tired? You wanna call a timeout?”

A swift kick to one of the puppet’s legs sent them down mostly harmlessly when another two jumped you, grabbing your arms and putting you in a hold while a few more leapt on too, keeping you in place. You were struggling against them when Whisper stepped into view.

“I’ve been watching you for a long time, hero…” she smiled sweetly, flipping a knife in the air. “Even back when you were just a rookie.”

She was getting too close, but you didn’t want to hurt the people she was controlling. Your mind was racing, trying to find a way out.

“You’ve always been so… timid.” she sighed, gingerly touching the edge of her knife, inspecting it as she went on. “All that power and you waste it helping these nobodies… “

One of the people moved close to her as you tried not to hurt the ones attacking you, and before you could reach them, Whisper held a knife to the woman’s throat. Her eyes never left you as the others held you down. She could see your hesitation, your fear.

“You care about these randoms, huh?” she giggled, a sweet sound to contrast the knife pressing into the woman’s skin. “I watch you run all over the city protecting them, even though they’ve never done anything for you… Keeping them from getting crushed by falling buildings, grabbing them before their cars run off collapsing bridges, flying off with them before they get smushed by a giant monster…”

“...and for what?” she frowned, grabbing the woman by her hair and yanking her head back, giving you a good view of her throat. “So they can ogle and gossip and say you’re not as good as the last batch of goody goodies? They can put you on posters and snap pics of you on their phones and think of you like you belong to them? So they can keep you under their boot, nice and docile… So they can keep using you?”

You recognized the woman she was holding. She was a hostage in a bomb threat not even a month ago, and you’d been the one to save her and get her out before the blast went off. She’d been on the news…

Were all of them… people you’d saved? You didn’t have time to think about it as you saw the knife tilt slightly, pressing into her neck, a trickle of blood trailing down to her chest.

You had to move.

You threw off her puppets, rushing Whisper. A punch to her stomach sent her flying back, you caught the woman in your arms, pressing your hand to the slight injury. But she was still a danger, she reached up and scratched your cheek with her nails before you could react. Normally, it wouldn’t leave a mark, but your energy levels were getting dangerously low.

You had to end this before someone got seriously hurt. But you couldn’t let her face get anywhere near yours.

You’d only fallen to her power once, but you were lucky that one of your more invulnerable teammates had been there to take the beating instead of innocent people in the street. Eventually, something snapped you out of it, you still weren’t sure what, and you’d knocked Whisper out before anything else could happen.

You made sure she never got close after that. 

She rolled to her side when you tried to grab her, hopping up and rounding on you with a kick to your side. You were able to block her, but she caught you off guard with a knife in each hand, swiping up at you and narrowly missing. You ducked under and tackled her to the ground, and she laughed as she hit the concrete. 

She’d landed flat on her stomach, but before she could struggle out of your grip, your knee landed squarely in the center of her back. A choked, pained cry sounded like it was squeezed out of her, but it was quickly replaced by a wheezy laugh. You grabbed her arms and secured them behind her back, throwing up a small shield at your back to keep the puppets away. 

“Oh?? You sure do like… h-holding me down, sunny…” she giggled, her eyes bright under her long lashes. A bit of blood was dripping from the corner of her mouth “You’re so warm… Let me up, I wanna t-... tell you something…”

You yelled at her to knock it off, but she just kept laughing, even though she sounded like she was in pain. You wished she would just call all of it off already, you hated the whole situation. You hated hurting anyone, even if they were a villain. 

“Th-this!” she wheezed. “This is… my favorite part!” her face was turned far enough to the side that you could see a lone red eye staring up at you. “Don’t… look away… don’t let go…”

They could’ve been sweet words, coming from anyone else and NOT in this particular situation. You dug your knee in a little harder, shouting for her to shut up, telling her to release the hostages, or else.

But of course, she did not. She called your bluff. 

“Look at me, sunshine…” She was smiling up at you, color in her cheeks. “You’re so… beautiful. And you’re gonna be mine…”

You were starting to lose your patience. The only way you were going to stop this was if you knocked her out.

But before you could do anything else, something slammed into you. Your shield had shattered, and one of her puppets was sprawled out on your back. Then another joined her, and two more. You tried to shake them off, but you couldn’t while holding onto Whisper. 

They weighed you down, pressing you closer and closer to her. It had to be hurting her more than you, but you couldn’t stop them, and she wouldn’t. Her face was too close to yours-

“There you are…”

The world suddenly went horribly quiet, and all you could see was her. You felt the other puppets get off of you, but you didn’t get up. Whisper sighed, turning in your arms, no longer pinned down. Almost being gently held by you.

“It’s been a while, sunshine… since you’ve been mine…” she smiled, touching your face. “I remember last time. You were beating the snot outta me when I crashed through that support beam. The whole upper level of that parking garage came down on us, and what did you do?”

She smiled wide, her red eyes shining as she held onto your face with both hands. 

“You dove for me! You… saved me, even though we were fighting! Imagine that!” she bit her lip, laughing. “All that rubble falling down around us and we’re just crouched together, I was all beat up but you held up that ceiling with one hand! And held me so close, protected me, even though you knew what I’d do… Not many hero types would put themselves in harm’s way for someone like me…”

She got up, and you felt compelled to get on your knees, doing just that as she stretched out the kink in her back you’d given her. 

“I’ve robbed, maimed, tortured and killed oh so many people… and you still saw my life as worth saving.” She groaned, her muscles sore and burning. “And I knew I just had to have you.”

She knelt down and pulled you to her, kissing you deeply with no warning. But you didn’t want to push her away. She felt so nice, you couldn’t control the moan you let out. She grinned against your lips. 

“I kept coming at you, and no matter what I said or did, you never ended me. My team kept busting me out of custody and you kept putting me back in, but you never let me get hurt, at least not by you…”

“Hell, sometimes I’d go out and start some good ol’ fashioned mayhem just to get your attention! And you never let me down. You beat me up good, but you always held me so tenderly when I got knocked out, like you really cared about me. Sometimes I would pretend to get knocked out and release them just to feel you hold me, I love looking up at you while you fussed over me, feeling you brush the hair out of my face, patching up any really bad wounds you could before letting the government take me ‘cause you knew they’d half-ass it. And I did it again and again…”

She kissed you again, and you kissed her back, her words still ringing in your ears. Did you… care about her? Or were you so deep under her control right then that you couldn’t even think about any alternative? All you could focus on was her lips on yours, and how you wanted to belong to her, and you told her so. You told her how much you wanted to be hers.

“You are mine, sunshine!” she nuzzled her forehead to yours, her short, pink curls brushing your cheeks. “Mine mine mine…” 

You could taste her blood on your lips, but you didn’t mind. You felt a strange, overpowering, almost mournful feeling. You told her you were sorry for hurting her.

“Oh, don’t look so down…” she cooed, your face nuzzling into her hand. “Any other goody goody puts their hands on me and I’m super pissed off, but I never minded a little hands-on time with you. I love lookin’ at the bruises and scrapes you leave after our little tiffs. I just wish you were the bitin’ type! If you left me some of those, it’d make my day!”

Watching her lovingly touch the bandages on her face, you asked her if she wanted you to bite her now. She smiled so wide, her cheeks burning.

“Tempting!” She giggled, waving you off with a huge grin. “But I’ll wait for the day when you bite me ‘cause you really want to, s’only fair.”

“But I’ll kiss you as much as I want.” she pulled you to your feet by your suit’s collar, planting another one on you. “‘Cause I see the way you look at me. How you blush when I flirt with you even when there’s mortal danger going on. How you get so shy when your teammates hear me calling you every pet name under the sun. I can feel your eyes on me whenever you and your super-buddies get me in custody with a dampener gag on me so I can’t make anymore puppets. You always look so crushed, like a sad little puppy. Like you wish I wasn’t so bad, so we could be together…”

Did you look at her that way? You couldn’t remember anymore. All you wanted to do was look at her now, touch her… feel her kiss you again and again. 

“And now, we can be together!” she grinned, practically bouncing in place with joy. “I gotta keep you out of the sun and locked up when I sleep, but before you know it, you’ll love me so much on your own and you’ll want me sleeping in your arms and we can be together all the time! Maybe I can even take you on some night jobs and we can be the best villain power couple they ever saw! Maybe…”

All her excitement seemed to wilt, and for the first time since you’d appeared to stop her, her eyes wouldn’t meet yours.

“Maybe someday… I won’t even need to use my power on you.”

She held out a trembling hand to you, and you kissed her palm, the red light in your eyes reflected in her own when she finally looked at you again. 

“Someday you’ll want me just like I want you.” She mumbled, almost promising you and herself. “It won’t be long, just… just hold me tight, sunshine…”

You did, and she sighed in your arms, nuzzling your chest. There were tears in her eyes. You asked her what was wrong, and she clung to you.

“I just…” Her voice was straining, choked up. “I just wish… you loved me for real…”

You held her face in your hands, wiping her tears away with your thumb. Her eyes went wide when you kissed her, practically melting in your arms. She was so warm. 

You told her you did love her, you had for a while. But neither of you were sure if it was true, or just part of her control. Her deepest wish.

“Say you’re mine.” she asked. It wasn’t a demand, or a command, but you still felt compelled. 

You did.

“Say you’ll always be mine.”

You did.

“Say you’ll never, ever leave me.”

You did, with a kiss to her injured shoulder. 

She called off her puppets, sending them away. You didn’t know if she would release them or if they would be part of her team’s plans, but you didn’t want to think about that. 

She wrapped her arms around your neck, and you scooped her up into your arms. It was a familiar feeling. You’d carried her before, just as she’d said, and you didn’t know if it was your own mind or her power that had the memories steeped in such a warm, comforting feeling.

“Give me a lift, sunshine.” she pressed into your chest, suddenly seeming so worn down. “I need a nap… and I’m pretty sure you broke a couple of my ribs…”

· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ✦ · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

i feel like she could've been more pathetic, but i like how this turned out. she came out more unstable than a girlfailure, but she is who she is, i suppose (plus, i have a reeeaaaalll loser girl im planning to write, so that should make up for any possible disappointment lol✌️)

the header could be better, but im ultimately happy with it. her eye placement might need some editing, but that's a problem for future me lol they always look like they're in the right place until it's done 😩

she's stealin kisses, im not super comfy writing yanderes that push physical boundaries, even tho thats practically a staple of some yanderes, so i thought this would be a good level

[aerynwrites]

Unexpected, But Not Unwelcome

Gale Dekarios x afab!Reader/Tav

A/N: based on this request - god I literally wrote this the second that I got it lol. Gale was the perfect one to write this request for imo and it was such a pleasure!

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: pregnant reader, slight angst, pregnancy, fluff.

The longer you’ve lived in Waterdeep the more you start to understand why the balcony outside the study is Gales' chosen spot in his tower. 

You still remember the slight shock you felt when you first arrived to see the space was exactly like the illusion he showed you all those months ago. 

Now it’s also become your place of solace, much to the wizards delight. 

“Views like this are much better enjoyed with company. And I couldn’t wish for a better half to spend it with.” 

The balcony is swathed in deep orange light, the sun slowly creeping towards the horizon, the bottom just barely kissing the edge of sea way out in the distance. Her fading rays dance along the calm bay waters, the only disturbance to its surface being the few ships leaving or entering port. 

‘What do they carry?’ you wonder. 

Fine silks and clothing? Or perhaps rare spices from across the world. It’s a game you find yourself playing more often than not whenever you sit out here. But now…

Now it’s all you can do to try and focus on the ships, your mind constantly flitting back to the news you were given earlier in the day. 

You’d missed your monthly cycle a few weeks back, and while it wasn’t immediately alarming, that along with other symptoms finally made you decided to seek out a healer. 

Gale had told you of his plans to spend the day at Sorcerers Sundries, looking for a specific tome for research he was working on. So, today was the perfect day to slip away unnoticed. You didn’t want to worry your husband unnecessarily, but now you want nothing more than for him to be home, the news eating away at you. 

You’re pregnant. 

It’s honestly nothing you’ve ever truly thought about. Before the tadpoles, you’d been alone, just living day to day in Baldur’s Gate. Then of course the whole tadpole incident happened and then…you met Gale and fell in love and started to build a life with him here, in Waterdeep. 

You’re honestly surprised the topic never came up. But now, with it staring you in the face…a sense of uncertainty settles deep in your belly. 

Tara noticed immediately of course, aware of your unusual quietness as you retreated to the balcony as soon as you got home. You’d found yourself spilling the news to the intelligent cat as soon as she asked, her deep eyes softening ever so slightly as she jumped in your lap and curled up. 

You couldn’t help but sense a wave of excitement coming from her, though. A sense that somewhat calmed you despite the nerves running wild in your mind. 

That was a few hours ago, Tara hasn’t moved from her spot, lounging peacefully as you stroked her fur and watch the ships glide across the water. 

Only the very distant sound of the tower door opening and closing, and Gales faint greeting finally pulls you from your thoughts, that anxiety creeping back in full force as you tense. 

Tara sits up as well, stretching and letting out an enviable yawn. You wish you could be that relaxed. 

“Relax, dear,” Tara says gently, nuzzling your hand before turning to jump from your lap. “I feel you have nothing to be worried about.” 

She turned and pads towards the inside of the tower just as Gale appears in the archway, stopping to offer her a welcoming scratch before she disappears.

He sends you a warm smile as he rights himself, approaching and taking a seat next to you on the padded bench, arm wrapping around your waist instinctively as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“How was your day, my love?” He asks, nose nuzzling your cheek. 

You smile, realizing it doesn’t quite reach your eyes past the anxiety roiling in your chest. “It was good,” you tell him, not completely lying but not offering the full truth either. “How was your adventure to Sorcerer’s Sundries?” 

At the mention of the bookstore Gale’s eyes light up as he tells you about what he found. Slowly, as he talks about the new information he found regarding his research, you both maneuver into a more comfortable position. Gale moves to lay across the length of the padded bench, leaning against the armrest as you settle between his legs, back resting against his chest. 

His arms wrap loosely around your middle, hands resting over your stomach, completely unaware of the life that’s now growing there. 

His words fade into the background as your mind starts to wander again, your hands moving to rest atop his own, your fingers slipping to toy with the simple gold band around his ring finger.

You don’t truly have many worries about the news. You know that Gale will weather anything with you but…you don’t want this to be a storm, or anything negative. What if Gale doesn’t want children? What if he pulls away from you when you tell him the news or is just as scared as you feel?

Soft lips against your neck pull you from your thoughts, familiar fingers slipping between your own to give them a squeeze. 

“I know my research ramblings can at times be boresome. However, you seem to be lost to me more than usual this evening.” His words are gentle with just a touch of amusement as rests his head against yours. “What’s on your mind?”

You don’t respond right away, your nerves at an all time high and making your already tumultuous stomach even more uneasy. You squeeze his hand in yours.

“I went to see a healer today.”

Gale’s arms tighten around you, and you can feel the way he sits up straighter, your words concerning him. 

“A healer? I didn’t even notice - are you sick?” He asks, worry clear in his voice. “I cannot believe I was so preoccupied I failed to take note of-“

You tug on the sleeve of his robes, holding him tighter to you. “I’m not sick. At least not…” You trail off, taking your lip between your teeth.

Gale urges you on with a gentle press of his lips to your shoulder, and that action alone seems to calm the raging sea of anxiety within you. 

“I’m with child, Gale.” 

The silence that follows your revelation feels oppressive. The only sounds meeting your ears being the lapping of waves against the shore and the distant call of gulls in the air. 

Emotion clogs your throat as you clutch his hand. “Please…say something.”

You sit up then, turning to face the man behind you, but before you can fully do so, two strong arms wrap around you and bring you to your feet. Your surroundings turn into a blur around you as Gale spins you through the air, boisterous laughter falling from his lips until he brings you to a stop, capturing you in a breathtaking kiss. 

His lips are warm and his arms secure as he holds you to him, as if afraid this would all fade away if he were to let you go. 

Heat floods your cheeks when he pulls away, elation adorning his features as he looks at you, eyes glowing with an utter joy you’ve never quite seen on him before. He cradles your face in his hands, thumbs brushing softly against your cheeks. 

“I’m going to be a father? We’re going to have a child?” He asks, whispering the words in unbelieving reverence. 

The smile that splits your lips is almost painful, any and all anxiety dissipating from you as you take in his reaction. 

“Yes they…The healer said I would start showing soon, and if we want…Towards the end of the pregnancy they should be able to tell us the gender,” you tell him, hands grasping at the fabric of his robe. 

Gale smiles wider, hands falling down to cradle your stomach and the new life that sits there. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he says gently. “They will be loved either way, and no doubt a powerful wielder of the weave if I have anything to say about it.”

You can’t stop the chuckle that slips past your lips, and the surprising happy tears that fall down your cheeks. Gale notices the streaks immediately, smile faltering ever so slightly as he reaches back up to wipe the tears away.

“Why the tears? This is a joyous occasion, we should be celebrating!” 

You shake your head, reaching up to place your hand atop his own as you turn to press a kiss to his palm. “They aren’t tears of grief…I was worried. Worried about telling you. I didn’t…we’ve never talked about children.”

Your husband smiles gently, eyes reassuring as he leans in to press a kiss to the corner of your lips. “I can admit that this news was unexpected, but it’s…it is not unwelcome,” he tells you, eyes bright once more. “I’ve never given much thought to children because of everything that had consumed my mind in the past and then you appeared in my life and took over the rest of my thoughts,” he laughs. “But this…” He presses his hands to your belly again. “This is more than I could have ever asked for. More than any power I’ve ever dreamed of having. I find myself filled with indescribable joy at the thought of creating a life with you - a family.”

You press your lips to his as soon as the words leave his lips, pulling him impossibly closer until you break away to nuzzle into the space between his head and shoulder, excitement and happiness threatening to burst from your chest. 

“I love you, Gale Dekarios.” You say, smiling as he pulls you tighter against him. “I can’t wait to start a family with you.”

You move to speak, but the presence of a familiar winged feline interrupts you as Tara rushes onto the balcony, wiggling happily. 

“Oh my!” She exclaims, weaving between yours and Gale’s legs before jumping effortlessly up to perch on his shoulder as you both separate. “This is most exciting! Another Dekarios, can you believe it?” She asks, turning to Gale. “Hopefully this one won’t light himself on fire like you did all those years ago.”

You watch in amusement as Gale flushes a light shade of pink, flicking Tara’s ear playfully. “I was just starting to learn to master the weave! And I was eight, you can hardly blame me.”

You chuckle at their antics and reach up to card your hands through his hair at the nape of his neck, drawing his attention back to you.

“Well, they will have the best teacher. There’s no telling what they will accomplish with you as their guide.”

Gale smiles, leaning down to kiss you one last time before embracing you once more. 

“We’ll guide them together.”

You hum in agreement, basking in the golden rays of the setting sun, the snapping of sails echoing across the water as you whisper against his skin. 

“Together.”

Tags:

@dark-and-kawaii

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine being pregnant with King's child and not knowing about it until you give birth

At a distant Beast Pirate base

You: [has been away from Onigashima for seven months]

Jack: are you sure you're okay?

You: [hunched over, grasping your sore back, and sweating profusely while trying to catch your breath] Yes, I'm fine, my sciatica is just acting up.

Jack: I think you should go to the infirmary.

You: [snaps] Dude, seriously? I said - [feels a deluge of fluid flood your pants] ... you know what, I think I need to go to the infirmary. In fact, you need to carry me.

Jack: bitch, you have legs, how about you walk?

You: [doubles over and shrieks in pain]

Jack: ugh [rolls his eyes and runs you to the infirmary]

Twenty-six hours later

You: [looking at your infant in shock]

Infant: [a beautiful chubby Lunarian baby girl with a tiny set of black wings]

Jack: congratulations on the baby! [walks in to see said baby] fuck... need to go call King.

You: ... kill the medical staff first, no one can know about her.

The staff: ( ' O__O)

You: Once you're done with that, can you please get us out here?

Jack: of course [turns to the staff and cracks his knuckles] Also don't tell me what to do. [gets to work]

You: [cradles your child closer so she can't see or hear what's happening, and laughs] Thank you for being so reliable, Jack.

Jack: I just... I wish you had told me sooner that you were pregnant.

You: I didn't know until today that I was pregnant.

Jack: How could you not know you were pregnant? That shit seems hard to miss.

You: We've been out at sea for months, I figure I was just the normal amount of nauseous, sore, fatigued, cranky, and hungry.

Jack: [breaks the neck of the last nurse] Ugh, now you get three weeks of seafaring with a newborn because I'm taking you to King.

You: Why would you think my baby would be safe with King?

Jack: [gives you a "bitch, really?" look]

You: ...

Jack: ...

You: Oh my god, he's a Lunarian too

Jack: How have you been fucking him enough to make a baby, and not know he's a Lunarian.

You: Do you really wanna know the answer to that?

Jack: You two are gross. I'm taking you to a safe house until we are ready to set sail.

At the safe house

King, via den den mushi: What do you mean you're pregnant?!

You: no, I said I was pregnant, not I am pregnant.

King: what the fuck does that mean?

Your daughter: [starts to fuss]

King: please tell me that is not a goddamn baby, I hear.

You: Yeah, sorry, I didn't know until she decided it was time to come out.

King: what color is her hair?

You: She's a newborn, she doesn't have hair yet.

King: [stumbling over his words] Does she look a little... Is she ... fuck... Is there anything off with the baby?

You: No, the doctors said she was healthy, especially her lungs. She came out screaming, it was so loud that she made the doctor's ears ring.

King: So she has your loud ass voice, great.

You: And she's got a cute little set of wings like her daddy.

King: oh, don't call me that... Are there any other features I should know about?

You: She's got your fat head, too.

Kaido: [cackling in the background on King's end]

King: Is that so? Jack, how long until they can set sail?

Jack: On such short notice, three days.

Three weeks later in Onigashima

King: Alright, let me see her.

You: [hands her over]

King: [lifts her up to get a good look at her] She has your nose.

Queen: [mutters] She really does have your fat head.

King: Get away from my child, I don't want you even looking at her]

Queen: I, honestly, never would have pegged you as the paternal type, but then again, I always thought I'd have kids before you.

You: You would have to have sex with someone to have a child, and last time I checked you couldn't pull any bitches. But also, seriously, stay the fuck away from my kid.

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