#sparrow writing

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

“this fic was written by AI”

[blistexenthusiast]

19th century wax seals

[keferon]

could you share the adhd lifehacks please T_T

I have a feeling you’re not gonna like my lifehack it’s kinda unhinged

If I get stuck while writing I invite other people to watch me. Like writing in real time. Because the thought of a bunch of strangers waiting for the next sentence is enough to give my brain the constant sense of urgency and switch it into crazy-fast-productive mode.

I also almost never plan what I’m gonna write in advance because my stupid brain likes the constant sense of novelty as well. Everything is pure improv from start to finish.

Whenever I try to explain this method to other writers they get horrified ahahah I imagine for most of them writing is more of a private activity

[socksracoon10]

Hi love here I come with my first spontaneous idea 🩷

Reader is the Commodore's sister but sick of the ways of society. When Jack saves Elisabeth, reader is the one who persuaded James not to kill Jack and also the one he happens to threat in order to escape. She’s somehow drawn to the Captain and later gives Will the keys to the cell to set him free. Jacks thoughts circle around her, too and they reunite when she swings last minute from the Dauntless over to the Interceptor to join the pirates making way❣️

Curious of The Seas

A/N: Literally fell in love with your ask oh my god, couldn't stop thinking about it before I began writing!! Thank you so much for this request! Pairings: Jack Sparrow x F!Reader, Will Turner x F!Reader (Platonic), James Norrington x F!Reader (siblings)

"Don't slouch, stand straight," Commodore Norrington hissed at you. You glared at your brother, curving your lips downward. You hated how strict and loyal he was to the British Crown and how he enforced his rules onto you, despite being his "precious baby sister." 

Your brother didn't hate you, but he sure did a good job of making you hate him. He was pacing his quarters back and forth, rehearsing what he would say to Miss Elizabeth Swann upon meeting her. You rolled your eyes at the pathetic scene, realizing that if your brother were to marry Miss Swann you were next on the list for the most eligible bachelorette in Port Royal. Your body cringed at the thought and you wriggled your back to shake off the eerie feeling crawling down your spine and focused on trying to ease your brother at the moment.

"James, there is no point in stressing over something as simple as this. Tell her you are in love with-" You began but frowned when he interjected,

"Love? Don't be ridiculous!"

"So, you're not in love with her?" You inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"No, no, I very much am in love with her. But it is not proper for a man such as myself to say trivial things to the daughter of the Governor!" Your brother reasoned and you sighed in an exasperated tone, shifting your gaze out the window.

Elizabeth had stared at you with a quizzical look on her face when your brother and you had first approached her. You both shared the same expression of disdain for the situation. It was very clear to see that she was indifferent to your brother and surely was the very last man that she had any interest for. You, on the other hand, dearly loved your brother and wanted to save him from any heartache that she would cause him. You chewed your lip nervously, watching them exchange a few words of greetings before walking away. The commodore glanced over his shoulder, mouthing a few warnings to reign your behavior in for the biggest moment of his life before stalking away.

Huffing in annoyance, you picked the ends of your dress up and marched past the Governor who was just about to start a conversation with you. He awkwardly shut his mouth and watched you walk away to stand on the other corner of the pillar where your brother and Elizabeth stood. He leaned backward to get a good look at you, sending you another glare before returning his full attention to the woman in front of him with a nervous smile. You sighed, gazing out to the sea. Your brother had taken you once beyond Port Royal when you were a little girl and he swore it was something he very much regretted; all you could ever do since then was talk about sailing the seas. You desired to travel across the world, collect artifacts, and live a free life. Your brother scoffed at your desires, stating that he would rather die than see his little sister galloping around like a pirate of all creatures.

As you gazed out into the horizons with a look of yearning, you heard the loudest splash from below. Peering over the edges of the wall, you frowned at the ripples that seemed to bloom near the rocks and you instantly pulled back from your position and walked around to notice your brother screaming Elizabeth's name.

"What did you do?" You exclaimed, resting a hand on his shoulder. He pulled away from your grasp, beginning to take his coat off but you grabbed hold of him,

"The rocks, James! She's lucky that she didn't hit them on her way down! Come, we can reach her at the docks!" You urged him, yanking his arm. He seemed instilled with distraught, at a loss for words, "She must've jumped by your mere presence!"

Your brother sent you a nasty scowl and the playful smirk on your lips faded away instantaneously. You knew this was no joking matter; the poor woman could've died on her way down and she was to be betrothed to him anyway. As your brother scampered off with the rest of the guards, you found your feet rooted to the ground as you stared up at the sky. Something was amiss. The clouds darkened and circled about gravely, and the sea no longer held its silky blue blanket to comfort you. Before you could try and comprehend what must've occurred, you felt an urgent tug around your arms and you sharply turned to find yourself facing the Governor.

"Come now, my dear, you mustn't dawdle around when my daughter's life is in danger!" He exclaimed and you frowned at his words, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at him. Even if you wanted to help Elizabeth, there was surely no way you could swim into the waters with this puffy dress around you. You followed him down to the docks, pushing past the British officers to find yourself facing Elizabeth coughing up heaps of water from her lungs and then... a pirate.

With all the rifles surrounding him, you nearly thought they were aimed at your brother who stood in the way. You could only make out half his face, oblivious to the ensuing conversation that your brother was currently engaged in. You peeked around the Commodore's shoulder, carefully eyeing the strange man in your presence when his eyes flickered over to you for a sharp second before returning to your brother. Your breath hitched at the moment, taking in his disheveled and wet appearance as your brother remained as the shield between the man and you.

"He's a pirate," Your brother growled, his jaw clenching as he barked orders for his arrest. He ignored your gaping stare as he continued, "Sparrow, I assume?"

"Jack Sparrow?" You interjected, your mouth practically on the floor as you stared at him. The corner of the pirate's lips curved into a small smirk,

"It's Captain Jack Sparrow, love," He smiled with a wink. You smiled back before your brother forcefully shoved you behind him once again. He made a mental note to have a discussion with you about your behavior as soon as you returned home. He took the pirate's belongings and derided him for his lack of proper weapons, but it bothered him so deeply that you were so enchanted by the man. It irked him to think that his sister would fall foolish to a PIRATE of all people. He forcefully grabbed onto Jack's arm and began dragging him off before you cut him off,

"James! James!" You cried out, and your brother halted in his tracks and sent you a menacing scowl.

"Not another word from you, (Y/N)." He hissed, and you scoffed before pulling your skirt up ever so slightly to march up to your brother,

"This man, pirate or not, has just saved your betrothed's life! I suggest you at least show some mercy upon him!"

"One good deed is not enough to redeem a man's life of wickedness," Your brother corrected you as Jack was being handcuffed by a Redcoat.

"Though it seems enough to condemn him," Jack added, and you offered him a sympathetic look before turning to your brother with pleading eyes.

"Brother, please. I beg of you, consider an alternative for this man." You prodded him, as your eyes fell onto Elizabeth who smiled softly at your words.

"Please do so," Jack muttered, before dragging his bound hands around your neck. You gasped in response, tugging at the chains as your brother panicked.

"No one shoots!" The Commodore bellowed, holding his hands in the air, "Let go of my sister."

"Only if you return my belongings," Jack taunted with a haughty grin. He leaned closer to lowly utter into your ears, "You must be regretting your kindness, do you not?"

"I don't, but it seems that you'll regret it," You whispered, as you watched the guards hand in his belongings in a bundle. Jack nudged your back with his knee ever so lightly to grab hold of his things and you begrudgingly did so, before sharply turning around to face him.

"Now if you'll do me the pleasure... my, I don't think I know your name..." He said with a sly smirk. You frowned at him,

"It's Miss Norrington to you," You spat, placing his hat on. As you placed his sword, belt, and other personnel around him, you could feel his intense stare burning deep into you. If it was of lust or attraction, you did not know and at the moment did not necessarily care. Your mind was fixated on other things, and your brother was seething in rage as he watched Jack give him a look regarding your body against his that made him want to hurl. To think his sister was so close to a gruesome pirate! It was preposterous!

As you tied the last remaining string of his belt around him, you looked up at him with disgust. Not only was he a pirate, but this would be the talk of the town, and your brother's and your reputation would be spoiled. Your brother could easily regain his good fortune, but you were never as lucky. You hated the way the women would gossip and to think it was all spoiled over one man you decided to be too merciful with because your curiosity could not be controlled made you ready to commit arson.

"Is this how you repay me?" You hissed and the pirate smirked at your words,

"I saved your friend's life, and now you save me. Besides, you did after all wish for me to live. Now, suffer those consequences. When shall a beautiful lady such as yourself realize to never mess with a pirate?" He chuckled, before harshly turning you around with his gun aimed at your head. Your brother flinched at the sudden movement, making sure you were alright. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, you will always remember this as the day you almost caught Jack Sparrow," The pirate's voice boomed from behind you and the very next second you found yourself thrust upon your brother and Elizabeth. As Jack Sparrow hurriedly began his escape, he did not fail to include a personal message from his heart, "Thank you very much, Miss Norrington. I shall not ever forget such kindness!"

And you weren't ready to forget him, either. It would be for another reason. As the night raged on with a surge of pirates infiltrating Port Royal, you felt a growing desire to do something about it. Your brother had joined the Governor for his safety and left you at home to be tended to by the maids. Upon realizing that the front door would burst open regardless of the circumstances, you quietly slipped out the window in your nightly attire and made your way to the blacksmith's quarters where you knew for a fact that your good friend Will Smith would be. Will and you had grown as siblings; he was there for you more than your brother had been. He had anticipated your arrival anyway but found himself in jeopardy when his ears gathered the news that Elizabeth Swann had been abducted by the pirates. He was pacing around when you arrived and he quickly latched onto your shoulders,

"They've taken Elizabeth! I tried my best but-" Will began but you silenced him, bringing a hand to his mouth.

"I know what you must be going through. But there is not enough time. I heard you helped imprison Jack Sparrow." You whispered and he nodded his head, eyes wide as he tried to make the best of the situation, "Come, I have the key with me, we can both interrogate him and seek his help." Your hand fell to his own and led him towards the streets.

"Wait a minute," Will stopped you, and with a glance over your shoulder you already knew what he was about to say. He was going to prevent you from going. "(Y/N), I know you've always wished to escape Port Royal, but I cannot bring harm to you once you step foot onto the waters."

"Will," You chastised him, "I am no longer a little girl. I am very capable of handling my own matters."

"You are inexperienced, that's all I can say." Will rebuked your claim and you gasped at his words, before furrowing your brows,

"So are you!"

"Ah, but I shall be bringing Sparrow with me to help find Elizabeth."

"Oh, don't be so dull! I can help Sparrow and you as well. Do not prevent me from doing so! If it is out of fear that a pirate may do something towards a woman of my status, I assure you that no such thing will occur! If he dares to even look at me, I shall see to it that his eyes are gouged out by his blade!" You reasoned and Will took a step backwards, his lips parting in shock at your words. You had the spirit of a pirate in you that was for sure, and that was exactly what he feared.

"I cannot let you join. Your brother is... already facing loss," He replied in an awkward tone, considering how much he cared about Elizabeth, "He would be devasted to find you gone as well. Just stay put for now. I'm sure there shall be something more exciting for you in Port Royal."

You muttered a few unladylike curses under your breath and reluctantly offered him the key to the jail cell, "At least tell Sparrow that I was... delighted by his presence."

Will raised a suspicious eyebrow at your remark, unsure of how to respond. He nodded his head and then left you alone, as you brought your hands over your arms as your mind wandered towards the sea once again.

To say that Jack Sparrow was surprised by Will's statement regarding you would be an understatement. He couldn't wrap his head around the fact that you so willingly offered him the key to his escape, considering how he had humiliated your brother and especially you in front of everyone at the docks earlier in the day. He chewed his lip, his eyes dilating at the thought of you. The way you stared at him in defiance, your temples rising and falling with the way you clenched your jaw. Of course, who could forget the sensation of your fingers pressed up against him as you fastened his belt? As much of the ladies' man that Jack was, there was something different about you. You weren't like Giselle or Scarlet, complaining about superficial things or just merely trying to get into his pants. He could tell there was this curious spirit fighting to break free when he first laid eyes on you. The way you cautiously peered over your brother's shoulder had made him... well, he certainly wouldn't say his heart skipped a beat. He wasn't a silly little boy. He was a man! A grown man, a pirate! CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow, mind you. And yet here he was, trying to justify to himself that what he felt for you was nothing more than just infatuation that would surely pass on.

But it didn't. It never did. While of course, his thoughts about stealing The Interceptor were his priority, he just couldn't stand still without his mind fleeting over to the very image of you, dressed in that regal bright blue gown and your hair all curled and pinned to form the most exquisite portrait of a woman he'd ever seen in his life. He smirked to himself at the thought of you, wondering what you must be doing at Port Royal at the moment. What if your brother had you married off to someone else? What if you were to live the rest of your life as a boring wife to an equally boring officer? He shook his head, wriggling himself free from those imaginative concoctions. He was a pirate, damn it. He had better things to think about than just a woman he had seen days ago.

"You've got to be kidding me," Your brother grumbled as he pushed past you. You had boarded The Interceptor with him, not because you had wanted to - even though you took every chance out on the sea with gratefulness - but because your brother was so worried about the possibility of your abduction that he wished you were beside him at all times. Including those incredibly still moments of him gazing out into the sea. To him, he seemed to have an air of control, all the world's burdens upon his shoulder. This was his duty. When you gazed out into the sea, however, it was a plethora of possibilities. The unmarked territories you could claim, the desire for you to seek out treasure from all corners. You could be free. And no one would stop you. Save your brother, but that was something he'd always do anyway. Your attention focused on The Dauntless a couple hundred meters away as you noticed flocks of the British crew on small boats were paddling towards the ship you were in. Your brother gazed through his telescope and snarled at the sight, hesitantly passing the device for you to see as well. From afar, you saw Will Turner and... Jack Sparrow? The pirate? Both of them were flapping their arms around trying to make use of the mast. You guffawed at the sight, laughing at them. You turned to face your brother who quickly reminded you with his gaze about your behavior and you swallowed the amusement away as fast as you could.

The two ships - The Dauntless and The Interceptor - were locked horns now and your brother ordered you to come with him to board The Dauntless and put an end to Sparrow's madness. You reluctantly agreed, your eyes scanning around to see any sight of the familiar pirate you had so longed to see. 

"Search every cabin, every hull," Your brother barked, before turning back to you, "And you stay close to me. Do not go wandering about like a fool like you always do." 

You glowered at him, electing not to anger him any further as you stood on the deck. You watched him disappear among the surge of officers onto The Dauntless. You sighed, pacing back and forth when you noticed two men swing over to The Interceptor. It was Will and Jack.

Eyes widening in surprise, you tried to call attention to the situation but your cries fell on deaf ears. You stomped your foot and watched Jack cut off the rope ties, one by one. His gaze was fixed downwards until he looked up momentarily, and there you stood. He stood there for a few more seconds, completely surprised by your presence. Deep down, as much as he hated to admit it, he feared that he would never see you again.

"What are you doing? Cut the rope!" Will cried out in confusion before he followed Jack's eyes to you. Jack looked upwards at the rope still connecting the two boats before turning back to you,

"Jump, Miss Norrington!" He instructed, and you stepped forward, holding onto a long piece of rope. Upon hearing your name, your brother rushed out of the Captain's Quarters, pushing past his men.

"(Y/N)!" He yelled, his eyes daring you to make another move. Realizing that this was the only opportunity to acquire what you had spent so long yearning for; the deep blue seas, the adventure, and the whimsical treasures, you sent him one final glance before running off the deck of The Dauntless and swinging onto The Interceptor. With the final rope now gone, and the ship sailing forward at full speed your brother looked at you as if you were dead to him.

When The Dauntless was far behind and there seemed to be no danger at the present moment, you walked towards your friend Will and the pirate beside him. Will seemed elated that you were there, and he hugged you so warmly that you nearly forgot that he was not related to you by blood. Releasing you from his arms, he sheepishly stepped aside as Jack Sparrow stepped forward.

"Miss Norrington, it is a pleasure to have you on board with us. I almost feared you might not have the guts to swing over," He teased, his hand graciously wrapping around your own as he kissed your fingers with such gentleness that it surprised you. You cracked half a smile at him, narrowing your eyes, before responding,

"You may call me (Y/N), and please, I never turn down an opportunity for adventure."

[aemondluvbot]

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖔𝖜 — 𝖎

✧ ⸺ aemond x reader︱part two

𝔞. 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: i adore reading shy and timid heroines that are coaxed out of their shells. as such i adore writing them too. i'm also not incredibly well versed about the hotd universe. whatever i know is based only on the show, so it's possible there are errors. still, i hope you enjoy.

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: reader is quite shy but not overly so. smut, intercourse (p in v), horrible “riding a dragon” puns

“you wish to ride a dragon?” prince aemond’s voice startles you enough for you the drop the pillow you’re holding. 

it’s freshly fluffed, about to be placed on the bed you’d made so neatly just minutes ago. and now the pillow sits on it awkwardly while you stare at the prince like a scared little deer. 

“my prince…” you manage a faint squeak, “i was—”

“telling the other maids how you’d be a stellar dragon rider, i heard,” the prince’s mouth curls into a little smirk you’ve come to know well from stolen glances. you stare at his feet, too afraid to meet his eyes. well, eye. 

“i didn’t mean…” you fidget with the hem of your frayed dress, wondering what the punishment would be. lashings? cleaning pigsties for a week? a month? 

“but you said it.” aemond’s voice still has that tone to it that you can’t quite decipher. and so you stand frozen while he looks at you from across the room. “tell me, my lady—”

“i’m no lady,” you pipe up, shutting up instantly when you realise you’ve interrupted a prince. the prince. “forgive me, my prince, i didn’t mean to interrupt. i…i…”

“you’re no lady,” he hums, as if you aren’t standing there shaking like a leaf, “what shall i call you then, little sparrow?”

his voice is soft like it always is—never boisterous like the king’s or stern like the dowager queen’s. it’s quiet and lilting and compelling. as much as you don’t want to meet his gaze, you find yourself doing exactly that. 

“on second thought,” he crosses his arms behind his back, taking graceful steps towards you like he’s gliding on the floor, “sparrow…has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“it does, my prince,” you smile to yourself quietly, “if you like it then i like it.”

for anyone else it would have been a lie. for king aegon, it certainly would have been a lie. but for the prince…when he says it, it’s like the name belongs to you. so much so that for a moment you forget where this conversation first started. until you find prince aemond standing directly in front of you, towering over you that is. 

“so tell me, little sparrow,” he says again, voice so soft it skitters down your bones and makes you shiver in the middle of a long, hot summer, “you wish to ride a dragon?”

“the truth?” you ask, feeling a little braver than before. 

“i’ll have nothing but that.”

for a moment you chew on your lip, a nervous habit taken up in lieu of biting your dirty, already worn fingernails. aemond’s gaze snags on it, though, and quickly you let go, begging your body to be a little more brave and keep meeting his eyes. it’s not everyday you get to see so much of him. in fact, it’s the first time you’ve gotten to see so much of him. 

“they fascinate me, your dragons,” you begin, “sunfyre, mostly.”

“my brother’s dragon,” the prince raises an eyebrow, looking at you with much more curiosity than before. “not vhagar?”

“she scares me, to be honest…” you admit, flushing a little when the prince’s smirk turns into a full blown smile. the smile stays for just a fleeting moment, enough for you to store it in your memories like a stolen sweet.

“she does that, yes,” he chuckles. it’s barely audible and yet pride blooms in your chest for having coaxed that sound out of him. 

“i…” you look around a little awkwardly, at the mess in the room that’s yet to be cleaned. it’s not that you don’t want to stand here and talk to him, if anything, that’s the one thing you want the most. to stand here and talk to him about his dragons, and have him tell you about them. have him tell you about himself too…

but if you don’t do your tasks on time then there’s consequences to face. consequences the prince won’t save you from. and so you give aemond a guilty smile. 

you must go and you must go now. 

“of course,” aemond bows a little, stepping aside to make way for you. 

quickly, you fix the pillow to where it was originally supposed to be and gather the old linens in your arms. then you curtsey as fast as you can and leave. 

you leave and are almost our the door before aemond’s voice freezes you mid-step. 

“if you ever wish to ride a dragon, little sparrow… you know where to find me.”

the day passes, and all you manage to do is think about aemond. you think about him as you wash the linens and hang them to dry, you think about him while you help the kitchen maids with the pots and wipe the floors of the keep. 

you think about him as you eat and gossip away with your friends. 

you don’t tell them though… all they know is that you were the one to clean his room in the morning and gather his linens. nothing more. 

they will never know anything more. 

if you ever wish to ride a dragon, little sparrow… you know where to find me.

that… is for you and you alone. 

you do get teased a little for your absent-minded smiles and your lack of attention to their gossip. you get teased and asked if any of the stable boys have caught your fancy. stable boys…nothing more. not a soldier or a knight or a lord. certainly not a prince. 

and yet when night falls you find yourself idling in the hallways that lead to his quarters. 

if you ever wish to ride a dragon, little sparrow… you know where to find me.

“does the prince need hot water?” you ask one of the maids, “for…for his bath…”

she looks at you in confusion. “malina’s already taken it,” she says, “minutes ago.” 

and so you drop the apple in your hands and hurry outside towards the prince’s room. malina is old, she can’t have gone that far can she? just like you predicted, she’s there when you turn around the corner, carefully balancing the hot water in her hands while a few other girls carry similar pots. you quickly cross the gap and call out for her. 

“let me,” you offer, arms outstretched, “you can go rest, malina. i’m done for the day, i can take this.”

she smiles at you gratefully while grumbling about old knees and hands you the pot. and so you set on your way, hiding a quiet smile and ducking your head when one of the guards gives you a strange look. 

the prince’s bedroom is awash in the glow of candlelight. for a moment, the excitement in your belly turns to disappointment. he isn’t here… of course he isn’t, he’s important and busy and has more things to do than sit in his bedroom all day thinking about you like you’ve thought about him. 

“you’re back, little sparrow,” the softness of his voice send flutters in your stomach. the other girls look towards each other, quiet looks passing between them. you know this would take precisely half a minute to spread around the keep. and yet it does not bother you one bit. 

“my prince, we’ve got water for your bath.”

“ah,” he nods and gestures vaguely towards the bathing chamber. 

one by one all of you enter, emptying the buckets in the brass tub until it’s full of steaming water and soaps and oils. one by one the others start leaving, their job done… 

the towels are on the counter, the candles are burning, the tub is filled—there’s nothing more to be done. you know he usually prefers to be alone. and yet you linger. 

you linger until aemond targaryen enters the bathing chamber, naked as the day he was born. 

and then you turn around fast enough to bump into the wall. 

“you startle easily, little sparrow,” aemond laughs. “never seen a naked man before?”

you have… that’s not the problem. you’ve just never seen a naked man as…well-endowed as him. your back still to him and your heart in your chest, you nod. there’s a slight splash as he settles into the tub. some of the spilled water licks the soles of your feet. finally, timidly, you turn. 

at least under the cloudy water he’s not so naked anymore. although his (now wet) chest certainly does nothing to calm your racing heart. 

“tell me,” aemond says, “did you think about dragons all day?”

well… 

“maybe,” you hedge, “a little.” and it’s not a lie. you did think of vhagar for a little, and sure it was only to think about aemond riding her into the skies, but she was there in your thoughts. briefly. 

“and what do you know about them?” 

from most people it would have been a condescending question, one to point out your intellectual capabilities or the lack thereof. from aemond it’s simply curiosity. 

“i know they’re gods. i know they’re old and powerful and only someone with valyrian blood can claim one. i know targaryen babes get a dragon’s egg for their cradle.” you answer rather proudly. 

“very good,” aemond nods. “come here. sit.” 

you look to where he’s pointing, at a little step stool in the corner. and then you see where his eyes are pointing, at a spot right by the tub. 

“do you read?” aemond asks as soon as you’ve settle by the tub. you blush, a little embarrassed. 

“i can’t…”

“no worries,” his voice turns gentle, “i was going to give you a book about vhagar’s riders. now i will just have to tell you about her myself.”

that startles you a little. surprised, you look at him again, really look at him—at his face that’s soft in the candlelight and his one eye that twinkles with mischief. you look at the leather patch covering the other, at the scar that runs around it. 

“can i ask why, my prince…”

“well,” aemond moves a little, sitting up straighter so a little more of his chest is now visible to you. the water cascades down pale skin, the candlelight creates hypnotising patterns that are pretty enough that you almost reach out and touch. 

touch the water and the light and the skin. touch him. 

but that’s a silly thought for silly girls. 

quickly you ball your hand into a fist and look at him again only to find him smirking. 

“as i was saying,” aemond says a little pointedly, “you can’t be scared of her if you wish to ride her someday now, can you?”

your heart thuds so loudly in your chest, you wonder if he can hear it. perhaps the entire red keep can hear it, perhaps king’s landing.

“i can’t ride her, she’s yours and… and she’ll kill me if i… she’ll burn me alive if i even go near her! and that’s if the guards don’t take my head first—”

“hush, little sparrow,” aemond moves fast enough that you have barely any time to stop rambling before he’s out of the tub and kneeling in front of you, his finger on your lips. not that you need it really, the situation is entirely enough to stun you into silence. 

you gape at the prince, at his beautiful, wet body that looks like it’s gleaming golden in the candlelight. you gape at him kneeling on his knees for you. a nobody. 

“will you stay quiet or will i have to make you?” he asks, his tone a little coy. 

heat coils in your belly, “would you like to, my prince?” 

and that’s more bold than you’ve ever been in your entire life. but now that you’re here and desperate and wanting so so much, you can’t really let shyness snatch it away. and so you straighten up a little, letting your eyes roam freely on his body. 

there are scars on his skin, of course there are, but even they look beautiful. then there’s the muscle honed by hours of sword training. his beautiful silver hair is damp from the water and gleaming like molten metal. you reach out and touch—just one strand that’s managed to stick to his cheek. 

aemond groans. 

leaving would be wise… leaving right this second would be even wiser, and yet when aemond tugs on your wrist and pulls you closer, it’s you who kisses him first. it’s heady, dizzying, intoxicating. he tastes like night air and burns like fire. 

you feel quite the same. 

your frayed old dress is quick to go as soon as he pulls you up—discarded by the tub casually. it gets half caught up on the edge but neither of you notice, too lost in the kiss. to caught up in the feel of the other’s body. 

you know he knows this room like the back of his hand. you don't need to. you can trust him at least in this regard—to lead you to his bed and fuck you any way he wants.  

“little sparrow,” he half-speaks, half-moans, “i want you. i want you right now.” it’s a needy and desperate confession, and it turns you on even more, makes your blood sing.

his hands are fast and nimble, eager to remove the last layer of clothes on you. still, the prince takes a moment to watch your hair come loose from your bun and cascade down your shoulders, his lips parted in awe and pupils blown out wide. 

you watch him. simply because he looks beautiful. 

“like what you see?” aemond teases and and you flush. 

it’s certainly a sight—the two of you standing opposite each other, entirely naked and about to devour each other. 

he walks backwards, eyes firmly on your body, lingering in all the places that make you feel like the only woman on he’s ever been with. he walks backwards till he eventually finds the bed and sits. 

“come here,” aemond says, beckons more like. and so you do—walking with a deliberate sway to your hips that his eyes train on until you’re standing right in front of him. knees touching his. 

“beautiful,” he says, looking up at you in awe.

you’re not entirely sure it’s true. you’re no lady in the court or a pretty foreign beauty. you’re no beautiful woman of the night, but hearing him say the words is still a delight. he makes it sound like he’s consumed by your beauty (even though it’s likely the lust that’s hazing their thoughts).

and yet he makes you feel like his own little midnight sun—bright, unique, central to his universe. 

you from before would have never though such stupid thoughts. 

and now you let him pull you onto his lap. 

you kiss him again, slow and sensual this time, rolling your hips against his, grinding on his thigh. it’s a deliberate torment, a torturous build-up so he could finally relieve the ache between your legs. 

“please, my prince” you breathe, “touch me.”

so he does, gently gripping your waist to keep you in the steady rhythm while his mouth moves down to your breasts. his tongue flicks around your nipple, drawing out a gasp and making you arch your back. you want more, so much more. 

aemond seems to sense the need.  

in one fluid movement, he’s on his back, and you on top. his cock brushes against your clit, drawing out whimpers. moonlight filters in through the windows, illuminating his face only just so that you can see his swollen lips—red, delicious—you can’t resist stealing another kiss. 

can’t resist tangling your hands in his silver hair and tracing a finger down his cheekbones, his jaw. he hisses with every movement, hard and throbbing beneath you. 

“are you ready for me, little sparrow?,” he moans, lowering you on his abdomen. his erection is pressed against your ass now—ready is what you are… ready and aching, eager to feel him. 

“p-please, my prince…”

aemond tuts. “say my name…”

your heart speeds up a little in your chest. it’s one thing to be sleeping with the prince, it’s another to forget your manners entirely and address him like he’s your equal. 

“i c-can’t,” you whimper, moving your hips in a desperate attempt to feel something. 

“i’ll stop this if you won’t” aemond says it like a promise, and there’s no way you want to risk it. if there’s even a slight chance of him stopping and leaving you here like this, a mess at his mercy… 

“a-aemond,” you whisper his name like it’s an unpredictable thing. his breath hitches in his chest. “aemond please…”

“good little sparrow…” his hands come to rest on your waist, lifting you up and gently guiding you down on his cock, filling you in inch by inch. you splay a hand on his chest, barely registering his racing heart. all you can focus on is how good he feels; hard and stretching you out. filling you to the hilt. 

“so perfect,” he hisses. his hands grip your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh while you roll your hips on his pelvis; too eager and desperate and full of want. you can already feel a bruise blooming on the back of your thighs where he grips so possessively.

“so are you, m–aemond,” you breathe, already consumed by the feeling of his cock hitting you over and over, in just the right spot. his hand reaches down and between your legs then, finding your clit and rubbing it in circles until you’re screaming his name and practically soaking him with your slick. 

aemond moves his hips too, thrusting up, fucking into you till a continuous string of curses falls out of his mouth. his chest glistens with sweat, sticky and warm and beautiful in the moonlight.

you’re lost in the pleasure, but you traces the scars on his chest—the faint dusting of hair and freckles, little nicks and cuts and faint bruises. you trace every part of him like he belongs to you somehow. like you belong to him too…

you suppose you do… at least that much is true. 

the pleasure builds and builds, your thoughts swirl more and disappear entirely the more he thrusts into you. he’s figured out your pattern—the rhythm that makes you tick and drives you crazy. and even when your thighs burn and tremble, you can’t seem to slow down. 

all you want to do is soar up and up and up until…

aemond’s hand is between your legs again, flicking your clit so roughly that it makes you cry out. and that’s what drives you over the edge. 

you moan his name again, chanting it like a blind devotee as waves upon waves of pleasure crash over you. you’re vaguely aware that you’re gripping onto his shoulders tightly, vaguely aware that you can feel his cock twitching inside you, coating your walls with his release.

gasping, you throw your head back, letting the orgasm wash over you. the loud, filthy, wet sounds are softer now, slower in pace as you both come to a stop. no one says a word—not a single teasing word or praise—there are only your breaths, out of sync and loud.

you slump forward, resting your warm cheek on his chest, hearing his heart beating loudly in your ear. 

“is that how it feels…?” your voice is ragged from screaming his name yet dripping with coyness. “is that how it feels to ride a dragon, my prince?”

aemond laughs—a real booming laugh that makes his chest vibrate and makes the sound permeate your skin, makes it settle bone deep. 

“i should say yes, shouldn’t i, little sparrow?” his fingers thread through your hair, much gentler now, lulling you to sleep almost. “do not worry about it. you’ll find out soon enough anyway…”

[cripplecharacters]

What about subverting the faking disability trope? You’re pretending to be able bodied but are actually disabled

(This is mostly a joke)

I know this is a joke question, but you said 'mostly.' So for the part that isn't a joke:

This is definitely a thing that happens, whether 'successfully' or not, because disability is seen as a moral failure or the worst possible outcome or whatnot. So a lot of people (who are somewhat able to; not all or probably even most disabled people can do this) decide, "well, then I don't want anyone to know I'm disabled/consider me disabled/know my struggle/know what I need to do every day."

This can help in some ways, like maybe they get more job opportunities or less people judge them or they go to more events, but it can also come at a great cost. When you're disabled, you need accommodations. If you pretend not to be, you might go without them. Or less than you need. Or cause yourself pain, or further worsen your disability. Or socially isolate you because you are hiding something that affects your life in a pretty big way.

There's definitely stories that can be told about this, given that I'm sure many people are living it.

When this ask was originally queued, these comments were added by mods (including me):

that's called what i do every day (also mostly a joke)

Same (I'm failing miserably)

Years of experience and you too can have people tell you "But you don't look disabled" (yeah...)

Story of my bloody life

So that's something even some of us mods have experience with.

Hope this helps not just you but maybe anyone else wondering,

mod sparrow

[inactive-fics]

I gotta write something with Jack Sparrow so here’s a little thing.

Old Tricks Die Hard

Pairing: Jack Sparrow X Reader

Warning: None

Plot: It’s been a long time…

No one expected Y/N to be alive. After Barbosa had overthrown Jack and left him alone on an island, the whereabouts of Y/N was unknown. Jack wasn't much for revenge, always trying to steer clear of it. But Y/N was the first greatest thing that's happened to him and Barbosa didn't just steal his ship but he stole his heart.

Jack wasn't expecting her to be living in Tortusa. When he saw her in the bar listening to someone tell a story he was practically rendered speechless.

"Who is that?" Will asks him, elbowing him to snap him out of whatever stupor he was in.

"No one," Jack says.

"Well, she obviously isn't no one."

“She’s no one,” Jack says in a whisper as if he and Will were going to be shot for speaking.

“She’s someone,” Will says in a whisper.

“No one.”

“Someone.”

“No one.”

“Someone.”

“No o—.”

Jack was interrupted. “Who’s a no one someone?”

Jack didn’t even have to look up to know who that voice belongs to.

“I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation here.” Jack didn’t even have to look up to know she was smiling either. That bloody grin of hers was always his weak point.

“Well, Darlin’, this someone no one is none of your business. Now, how much are you for the night?”

Her grin fell. “I’m not a lady of the night and if I was you wouldn’t get to pay for me.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that lass.”

Will looks between the two, he knew this chick was a someone. He hadn’t expected Jack to start flirting with her in front of him.

“Gonna introduce me to your friend?” She asks.

Jack’s face falls into a scowl as he puts his hand on Will’s back. “This, is Y/N. She’s my…”

“Your what?” She asks, a grin coming back to her face. “Go on, say it.”

“Ex.” There was a cringe on Jack’s face. A grin on Will’s and a laugh flowing from Y/N that made Jack’s stomach flutter. Old tricks die hard.

[short-wooloo]

I believe that we as a fandom should insist on referring to Fern as "Captain Fern" in the way Jack Sparrow does

She worked hard for the position dammit, not easy killing the old Captain and taking their place

[leafatlaw]

Im in love with how the hearts are represented by nether stars,, its just one really cool to think of, instead of it being some modded in thing.

Like do you think the lifesteal members ever look at the night sky and think its alive? The night sky so full of lives, shining and shimmering just out of reach. Do they stare at the nightsky with greed, those with less hearts, do they stare with envy?

Do they ever kill the wither and think how remarkably similar they are to hearts? Holding the nether star close, like it might give them a life back. Do they identify witht he wither, they also drop those same stars when they die after all?

And then, how does it feel to hold a star/life. Does it burn like a real star? Is it freezing cold? Does it thump in rhythms or pulse with light? We are all made of star dust after all, the lifesteal members are just more star than most.

[bruciemilf]

Now I’m thinking of Alpha Martha scooping in like “is anybody going to love and cherish that omega” and not waiting for an answer. She uses every Wayne gala to flaunt her Omega and later, pup in Carmine’s face. The only reason she hasn’t killed him yet is that seeing his rage and sad plans to get Thomas back is amusing and if it ever comes down to that Thomas deserves the honors.

Gosh, I’m starting to fall in love with that concept. Just imagine stern browed, lethally beautiful Captain Martha Kane, infamously known for her service in the military.

She reeks of bloodied snow, and sweet pomegranate with a note of petrichor. Of gunpowder, grainy and dark and rich, and of something so alluringly nameless Thomas can’t shake off.

The rumors about her hawk like gaze aren’t just rainwater.

Her look is made of storms and winter and Thomas shivers when he sees her for the first time, walking aimlessly around Gotham’s museum. His mother’s museum.

Carmine’s now, legally.

She stops just besides him, — she’s tiny, for an alpha, and he’s big for an omega, and for a moment, Thomas feels vindicated. So they had anomalies, too. Good. They earned it.

“Beautiful.”

She’s referring to the exhibit they’re admiring together. She has to be. Thomas stays quiet.

“What’s your opinion about it? I’ve visited her hundreds of times and I just can’t understand it. Not correctly, I think.”

He scoffs, but otherwise, the silence continues to expand.

Of course no Alpha understands The Good Omega.

Right above them, exposed almost proudly, imprisoned behind a thin layer of glass with rose gold framing, with delicate ivory marbled in, The Good Omega displays an omega women kneeling by her alpha.

It’s not intricate, or complex in composition. It translates well, and it’s just detailed enough.

Her mouth is sewn shut.

It’s a blood painting.

“She used to be an artist, I believe, “ Martha continues, with just the barest twitch of discomfort in her face, but she doesn’t allow her attention to shift. “I thought maybe you’d have a better perspective about it.”

“I’m not allowed to speak to you. As you well know.”

She pauses for a bit. “I apologize. You have no collar on. Your alpha didn’t pick one yet?”

He hums. “He can collar me when I’m in the ground.”

Oddly enough, that answer satisfies her. Pomegranate blossoms on his tongue.

“It’s freedom,” he continues, not really caring about customs. He already defies them daily. “It means freedom.”

Martha listens, but she huffs, half confused, half incredulous. “That doesn’t look like freedom to me. “

“That’s because you’re used to it,” He grits, turning his own gaze on her. He’s been told he smells horrible when he’s angry. He hopes this tiny, beautiful alpha chokes on it.

“Suffering is the only freedom omegas have. It forces you to look, to awknolege. There’s no exits The freedom of existing, that’s all we got.” He scoffs, not even noticing she’s clingy to every little sound.

“ Enjoy it while you can. Its going in the junkyard next week.”

“The junkyard?” She echoes, almost offended by the idea, but the casual insult. “Who’d throw away something like this, omega? It’s too valuable. “

Omega.

Thomas wants to purr and he rages, almost.

His smile is nasty, and full of teeth, and he’s grown to love how alphas cringe at the sight of it. Not this one, thought. This little beast stares at it like it’s living art.

“The same people you fight for. Thank you for your service, alpha.”

Thomas turns, not bothering to bow, excuse himself, or make a respectful exit. One good thing about being a rich omega is that he follows no rules his alpha doesn’t specify.

Nowhere did Carmine say he wasn’t allowed to ditch gorgeous alphas.

—

“You’re back rather early, Madame,” Alfred greets her with a kiss on one of her brow, soft as anything, his like tea, blueberry and dark chocolate scent hugging her deeply.

He takes a whiff of her, frowns, both in intrigue and concern. “…Why do you smell like unhappy omega?”

“Alfred,” She says, “I want to retire. Would you be a darling and contact my lawyer?”

“Oh, thank heavens. Anything else?”

Martha’s gaze bleeds blue, her thighs buzzing with the sneer of Thomas’ anger still, “Can you ask him if I can legally kidnap a taken omega?”

[hortensius]

Caelius and The Ghost - additional outfits <3

[mirellapryce]

Pirates of the Caribbean AU as promised: Edwin as Elizabeth Charles as Will Crystal as Jack Sparrow

Charles was fished out of the ocean by a ship Edwin, and his father the Governor were on as a young boy, same as the movie. The two grew up together with Charles being taken in by the blacksmith and learning the trade.

Rather than an engagement, Edwin's father purchased his commission in the Navy. This is terrible for many reasons but most of all because it would take him away from Charles! Charles can't even join as a lower ranking member of the Navy because he's understandably afraid of boats and the ocean! This is Edwin's fathers attempt at making a proper young man out of Edwin though.

I haven't thought muuuuuuuch farther than this. Obviously the plot happens.

Charles is having a VERY BAD WEEK between his best friend getting kidnapped, and then facing his worst fears to get onto a boat and INTO THE Water. But he teams up with renowned pirate legend Crystal Palace to rescue Edwin. If anything the undead pirates are a relief compared to everything else. At least he and Crystal get along after he got her to put down the vicious pirate person for a minute.

Plus I love the image of Edwin and Crystal stuck on a beach together yelling at each other, a la "Why is the rum gone?"

[champion-of-love]

sparrow and duchess are the kind of duo that clearly know they feel something for each other, but know that them ending up together won't be healthy for either of them. the kind that goes i'll stay with you until you cry out all your feelings about your destiny but i don't think i can ever muster up the courage to reach out and hold your hand. i'll be there on your wedding day, hell, i'll even walk you down the isle but i don't think i can be your groom or your bride. i'll go to bed with you after we've maybe had a little too much to drink and i'm seeing whole galaxies in your eyes, but i'll sneak out the door before the sun rises. i'll take all of the secrets and confessions and deepest darkest thoughts you've told me to my grave, but i'll ignore the biggest secret you and i have been keeping from each other all our lives

[socksracoon10]

Not Just A Pirate

Pairing: Will Turner x F!Reader, Jack Sparrow x F!Reader (Platonic) Read the First Part: Pirate

"I swear if I hear you singing one more time, I will see to it that your execution will be the most grotesque, agonizing experience of your entire life," You seethed, teeth barring to see the lovely Jack Sparrow in the cell just across from you. He was on the floor, hands waving around as if composing an orchestra. It had been hours inside the gloomy place and as each second passed, you could feel your sanity slipping away. Jack shifted his neck to face your sitting form, legs sprawled out with your hands clasped around your ears to shut him out. He stopped his incessant humming and sent you a frown,

"Look, love, I say we get used to this. I mean, if we were to die, at least we died tog-" He began before being cut off by the roar of your voice,

"I would rather stick nails into my ears than hear your voice again!" You leaned forward with a scowl.

"Oi, quit it! 'm tryna get some sleep!" Another prisoner from down the hallway bellowed, and you groaned in response as you slumped your head downwards. You glanced up momentarily to see Jack propping his head with an elbow, eyeing you with a look of judgment.

"It's not half as bad as you make it out to be… it could be worse," He scoffed.

"How so?" You sneered with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, you could be stuck with that blacksmith," Jack pointed out, and you threw your hands in the air, immediately getting onto your feet.

"Don't even bother talking to me about him. That insolent, brainless, scummy, disgusting pile of-"

"Woah, woah, woah, now. Have some decorum," Jack snickered, but he instantly winced when he heard you kicking the metal bars of your cell. Pacing back and forth, all you could think about was the events of yesterday. Having been abandoned by Jack, you had finally found the idiot and then minutes later got arrested for piracy… and then of course, whatever stupidity happened at night. You had slept through the whole commotion, and as you best put it for Jack who kept trying to wake you up, you "couldn't be more bothered when death was waiting". Perhaps your outlook on the situation would've been different if you weren't confined in the tiny cell, you couldn't even use the bathroom in peace without having to yell at Jack to turn around.

"You're like my sister!" Jack had cried out, which was followed by,

"Even more a reason to turn your bloody head around!"

A quick nap would clear your mind - and also block out Jack's humming again - and so you laid down against the hay and closed your eyes, trying to tune out any noise at all. You rarely ever slept because dreams were something you feared. Jack had told you before that dreams always revealed your inner desires, but you knew very well that none of your desires could ever match the horrors you were seeing in your head. It was a strange place to be in, and your heart thumped against your chest when you saw the flicker of Davy Jones, his eyes boring into your soul. The connection still made no sense to you, and as you tossed and turned on the makeshift bed, you could feel your arms being tightened by an unknown being, one that intended for you to meet your doom sooner than later.

Waking up with a start, you panted heavily and clutched onto your head, feeling extremely lightheaded. The only that snapped you back to your reality was Jack exclaiming,

"Oh, my pretty princess has finally awoken!"

You grumbled at his words, hating the stupid nickname. It was a running joke at first because you had refused to sleep on the Black Pearl unless certain conditions were met, to which Gibbs had jokingly stated, "The pretty princess wishes for some beauty sleep!" and right then, your fate was solidified on board. You could feel the anger boiling within you and you rolled your eyes,

"Call me that one more time, I dare-" The words fell short when you noticed the man from earlier at the blacksmith's shop standing there with wide eyes. You glanced between him and then Jack, and then back to him before the memories of what had transpired because of him played back in your head. Within seconds, you had begun to claw at the metal of the bars, trying to grab him and bash his skull, "You idiot! You moron! You buffoon!"

Will took a step back, turning to Jack with a confused expression, "Are you sure you need her to get back Miss Swan?"

"Mate, if we don't bring her with us, she'll kill us before we even get to Barbossa," Jack exclaimed, shaking his head as he continued to watch your pathetic attempts at trying to get Will.

Will didn't like to openly ogle at women as much as the other men in Port Royal. He thought it was very rude and an unpleasant experience, nonetheless. He's seen the blacksmith swigging down a bottle of rum, a crude remark escaping his lips only to be met with the firm backhand of a woman walking down the street. He remembered wincing at the scene, quickly averting his eyes to perfect the sword in his hands. The last thing he needed was to get reprimanded for neglecting his work. His eyes, however, could not look at any other being except for you. The image of you towering above his form with a sword pointed just below his chin was forever engraved into his mind. It had been the very moment that he wondered if he could see you once more. His ego wouldn't accept his attraction to you, though, because you were, after all, a pirate. Jack Sparrow's companion, and by the shapes of it, his worst nightmare because you made sure to make his life a miserable hell with any given moment that you two were alone.

"I doubt the princess herself would wish for you to save her," You snorted, shaking your head as you pushed past some men on the streets of Tortuga. Will trailed behind, a frown etched on his features.

"Miss Swann is a childhood friend of mine. Friends will stick together, and considering who you have as company," He paused, jabbing his thumb towards the direction of Sparrow sauntering up to a woman, "I can see you know nothing about having a good friend."

You sneered at him, pausing in your tracks to poke his chest, "Jack is a brother to me, annoying as he is but he's a brother. We've fought many battles together, so it's best if you shut your trap before I cut that tongue of yours."

He smirked at your words, which made your face fall just for a brief second. He wasn't intimidated at all, and the intensity of his gaze made your breath hitch. You almost forgot that you two weren't the only ones in the street before you heard Jack cry out,

"Oi! You two! Enough with the sightseeing, we have a business to attend to!"

You glanced over your shoulder at Will who continued to stare at you, his lips slightly curved upwards. You merely shook your head, convincing yourself that your lack of sleep was getting to you and you scurried off to Jack, deciding to stick by him for the rest of the night.

"Ah, if it isn't the pretty princess!" Gibbs cheered as you entered the tavern. You groaned, rolling your eyes, especially since you could faintly hear Will snicker in the background. You shot him a quick glare before turning back to Gibbs,

"Alright, cut it out. Not funny," You hissed, seating yourself next to Jack as he began to ramble about the mission at hand. Against your own will, you shifted in your seat to get a better look at Will who was standing in the corner, observing his surroundings. Being around so many pirates was probably an overwhelming experience for him. Aside from that, you knew his stance on piracy; hell, it was the reason you were in that prison cell in the first place. You snuck off to where he stood, offering him a jug of rum but he politely declined, assuring you that the last thing he wanted to do was get wasted, especially when he had more prominent things on his mind.

"Like what?" You asked, taking a sip of the drink.

"Like how someone like you could possibly be a pirate," He responded with no hesitation. Your eyes widened, the rum still cascading into your mouth as you tried to come up with something snarky in response. What ever did he mean by that?

"You saying I'm incompetent to be a pirate?" You scoffed, noticing the way his brows furrowed,

"No. I say you have every skill, even more than Jack-"

"Don't insult Jack, you haven't seen his potential," You wagged your finger at him, "You don't know anything about him."

"I don't know anything about you either, but judging by what I've seen in the past few days, it's very clear to me."

"Yeah, what's clear?"

"You…" He paused for a moment before continuing, "You are the only good thing piracy has to offer."

"I thought you said you hate pirates," Your voice had gotten quieter, unsure if you wanted to continue this conversation or not. You had gotten so used to starting fights, looting, and arguing with almost everyone that hearing words like this made your head spin.

"I did. I hate most pirates… not all, though," Will responded, finally taking your cup to take a large gulp of the rum. He smiled at you, one that made your knees a little weak and made your heart flutter a bit more. He stepped out of the tavern, sending you one final glance for the night before leaving you alone to your thoughts. You looked down at the rum in your hands, admiring the way the liquid swashed around in the jug.

It was half full and you smiled to yourself.

[aemondluvbot]

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖔𝖜 — 𝖎𝖎

✧ ⸺ aemond x reader︱part one

𝔞. 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: this might make sense on its own, but i do think you should read part one for added context

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: fingering while on dragonback (poor vhagar, this is the targaryen version of joining the mile-high club i think), fluff apart from that

“she won’t hurt you as long as you’re with me,” aemond reassures you for what might just be the millionth time. still, with every step you take, you wring your hands together and pray to the seven gods for whatever’s to come. 

in the stillness of the night, your senses feel heightened. every footstep, every distant laugh and squeal and animal sounds ring loudly enough in your ears that they might as well be made right next to it. you clutch your cloak tighter, looking to aemond who does the same. 

“my prince…”

“hush, little sparrow,” he breathes. it’s a soft whisper, mostly so he won’t attract any attention, and yet your body obeys like it’s a command. “do you not trust your prince?”

“i-i do, but…”

“and do you not trust his dragon?”

well, that’s certainly debatable. how do you know you won’t instantly be burnt to a crisp the moment vhagar gets the tiniest whiff of you? how do you know you’re not marching to become her next meal?

“you don’t,” aemond says like it’s a firm statement. and perhaps it is. she is ancient and powerful and a god. you are just a servant girl in the red keep. 

“do you not trust your prince’s ability to command his dragon then?” aemond’s voice is low, careful. your body reacts to it instantly as a warning shiver passes down your spine. you must tread carefully. 

“i do, my prince.” 

“then there’s no need for you to worry, is it?”

there are a thousand different things to worry about, you think to yourself—sneaking outside the keep in the darkest hours of the night, sneaking outside with a prince, riding a targaryen dragon, sleeping with the prince… more times than one…

“i suppose not,” you answer just as quietly.

“i haven’t been outside the city gates all that often,” you confess a bit more freely once you step outside the gates. “it’s…different.”

“is it?” aemond’s voice holds the same curiosity it always does whenever he’s asked you a question about yourself—never condescension or a patronising tone, always a genuine desire to know the answer.

“the air smells better,” you laugh. 

aemond hums, smiling at you as you continue to make your way to his dragon. you know it’s not far now, vhagar usually sleeps right outside the gates so the prince can ride to her whenever necessary. 

and now as you hear stirring and great big breaths echoing in the distance, your heart picks up again, thudding wildly in your chest the closer you walk. there’s anticipation thick in the air—thick and cloying and suffocating, and you wonder if it would be wise to just turn around and make a run for it. 

but then aemond stops just a few steps ahead of you and turns around to extend his hand. 

“are you ready, little sparrow?”

the no is right there on the tip of your tongue. no i’m not, i will never be, lets just go back to your bed. i’ll keep you warm. that’s what you wish you were saying, instead you give him a shaky little nod and watch the prince’s face split into a gorgeous smile. 

“ynot!” aemond’s voice rings out in the crisp, quiet night. 

the beast stirs. 

if it weren’t for the prince holding your hand, you would have dropped to your knees right then, you would have dropped to your knees and curled into a ball praying for swift death. one look at her, and you know there’s not running away from her. 

there’s only aemond who stands there like a shield between you while you cower behind him as vhagar stands to her full height. 

you have seen her in the skies before, patrolling the areas around the red keep and king’s landing, flying like a giant bird in the vast skies. but up close she is bigger than you could have ever imagined. 

she’s big and beautiful and beastly. involuntarily you whimper. 

“they sense fear, little sparrow,” there’s a teasing note to his voice as you press yourself into his back, peeping at her from behind him. 

“well, i am afraid,” you snap, not even bothering to apologise and grovel for taking that tone with him. aemond seems anything but offended, though. he seems rather amused.

“do you wish to touch her, little sparrow?”

no. no no no. absolutely not. no! but aemond seems so eager and despite the fear coursing through your veins you can’t find it in yourself to deny him this small pleasure. 

“um…”

“come,” he leads you by the hand. closer and closer and closer until she moves again and you yelp, practically jumping onto him and burying your face in his chest. aemond’s sharp laugh rings in your ears. this is beyond embarrassing that a simple movement of her head should have you shaking like a leaf. 

but aemond’s arms around you feel nice and reassuring. so much so that you hold onto him a little tighter. 

“lykirī, vhagar,” the prince murmurs. you don’t know what the words mean, all you know is that hearing him speak in high valyrian has a few butterflies fluttering in your stomach, clearing away some of the dread. 

“lykirī…” he breathes softly, approaching her with you still clinging to him, a little bit less now that she’s still again, looking at you with her giant yellow eye.

up close you can see just how leathery and thick her skin looks, battle worn over centuries and tougher than even diamonds perhaps. aemond raises your hand that he’s been holding, and before you have the chance to beg him not to, places it on her neck. 

your heart stops beating entirely. 

vhagar’s nostrils flare like she’s sniffing you. sizing you up more like… perhaps she’s wondering if you’d even be worth one bite to her. her hide is the strangest thing you have ever touched, unlike any other sensation you have ever felt in your entire life. 

“what did you say to her?” you ask in a hushed voice. aemond stands behind you, his body pressed against yours, his hand atop yours as you stroke the dragon with shaky, hesitant movements. 

“i told her to be calm.”

“you told her to be calm?” you laugh, “what’s she got to be scared of? me?!”

“would you rather she startled?” aemond teases and that shuts you right up. 

the fear in you dissipates the more you stroke her. she’s calm after that, only huffing slightly every once in a while. slowly you even gather the courage to move a little closer to her. all the while aemond watches. you can feel his eye on you at all times, never once wavering, never once looking at anything else. 

“should we fly then, little sparrow?” aemond asks after a while. you freeze again. fly… on her… sure you’re no longer scared she might burn you to a crisp but to fly on her… 

but you’ve trusted aemond thus far, and he hasn’t let you get hurt. what’s a little more trust then.

“you need to let go of me, little sparrow,” aemond laughs, urging you to let go of the arm you’ve been clutching for dear life while sitting in front of him. 

the dragon’s still on the ground and you’re already so high up… what happens once she starts flying? 

“mm? oh, sorry,” you mumble, letting go and straightening just a little.

“i’m going to keep you safe,” he murmurs in your ear, raising goosebumps all over your body. 

his fingers trail up the side of your thigh, over the leathers he’d lent you for this specifically. it already feels odd enough to be in trousers but that’s nothing compared to the feel of a saddle beneath you. still, his touch soothes you a little, calms your racing heart. 

the night is still dark, with no moon in the sky. a million stars twinkle above you, and as much as it scares you, you can’t wait to touch the heavens just a little. see if you can pluck a star from the sky.

“vēzot!” aemond commands. beneath you, the beast flaps her wings. 

there’s a great rumble, a sound louder than any thunder you have ever heard. it’s her, you realise, it’s vhagar’s cry as she frees her wings and leaps into the air, up and up and up until you realise you’re half-screeching and half-laughing, hysterical and awed. this is…beyond anything you’ve ever experienced. 

wind rushes through your hair, making your eyes water at first. your hair will be a tangled mess after this, much worse than when the prince has his way with you, and yet you can’t care less as all of king’s landing lays right below you—building’s tiny as a grain of rice, lights burning below you just like the stars that twinkle above you. 

“aemond!” you grab his arm, screaming over the wind, “aemond look! the red keep, and that—” you point somewhere to its east, “that’s the sept, and oh! that’s…”

one by one you point to the buildings and the streets you’ve only ever roamed so far. the more you recognise them the more excitement floods in your veins. vhagar’s gliding over king’s landing now, gentle and soothing, only flapping her wings whenever necessary. 

“it’s beautiful, isn’t it?” somehow his voice still carries over the wind, over the blood rushing in your ears. it would… after all he speaks the words right in your ear, kissing the shell of it and flicking his tongue over it right after. 

“hold the reins for me, will you?” aemond asks, his voice hoarse, deep. 

“w-what?”

“hold the reins, little sparrow…”

it’s an order as he nudges your hands with his, urging you to take a hold of the leathers. you know you’re not really steering the dragon, not with your inability to speak any high valyrian or your lack of valyrian blood. still, it feels like the biggest responsibility in the world. bigger still when vhagar grumbles the moment you close your hands around the reins. 

but aemond’s there to pat the dragon. “rȳbās, vhagar,” he commands again and the dragon goes back to the way she was before, calm, gliding on the wind. 

“she listens to you…” you murmur in awe, more to yourself than to him. because of course it’s a stupid observation, she’s his dragon, of course she listens to him. and yet it’s awe inspiring to you that he can command the dragon the way he does. 

prince he may be, but he’s still a mortal man… it astonishes you that he commands so much power with just a few words. 

“you listen to me too, little sparrow,” aemond breathes softly, placing little kisses over the shell of your ear just like he had before. his hand, now free, rides up your thigh, over your stomach, while the other rests on your hip, holding you in place. 

“aemond was it? not…my prince?” 

your eyes widen when you realise. of course, in your excitement you’d forgotten all manners, addressing him by his name like he’d given you permission. 

“my apologies, my prince, i—”

“i like it, little sparrow.” he pushes his hand inside your trousers, shutting you up instantly. 

his fingers are cold from the night air, a shock to your system as soon as he touches your clit—cold, rough fingers, touching the softest, warmest parts of you. 

his fingers move, tracing circles and vague shapes until you’re a moaning, quivering mess, writhing just so you can feel a little more friction. it’s just the right pressure, the right pace as he works you up. your hand falls slack, only loosely gripping the reins now, back arching off his chest lightly as you moan as loudly as you want. 

there’s no one to hear you high in the skies above king’s landing. no one to catch you in the act. all your sounds belong to him and him alone. and you won’t deny your prince those simple little pleasures. 

this is nothing like you’ve felt before, nothing like how your own hands make you feel. this is like tiny bolts of lightning right under your skin as the wind rushes all around your body. 

“that–that feels so good…”

aemond hums behind you, keeping up with the pace he’s set. his fingers dip between your folds, teasing and inching towards your opening—keeping you on edge. the reins are bunched up between your fingers, back pressed to his chest. as he nips at your neck, right over your pulse point, using his other hand to play with your nipples; stimulating, sending jolts through your whole body. 

“always ready for me, aren’t you little sparrow?” he breathes, peppering kisses down your shoulder. his finger circles your entrance, rough and thicker than your own, better than you’re used to. 

it’s enough for you to cry out—whine really. because you want him, need to feel him. but he’s taking his own sweet time. 

“what was that for, huh? needy little thing,” he taunts, “what do you want?”

between the words and his gruff voice, all thoughts vanish out of your head for a second. he hasn’t even properly fucked you yet, and your head is already starting to feel like mush. 

“you, please,” you all but beg, “want your fingers in me, please my prince…”

“not afraid of vhagar anymore, are you?” his taunting tone gets you going more. 

this should scare you to death—to be at the mercy of a dragon so high up in the skies, and yet with aemond’s fingers buried between your legs and his hardness pressing into your ass, none of it matters. none of it except chasing that high he makes you feel every single time. 

you spread your legs wider. your hand reaches back, caressing the nape of his neck, scratching it in slow sensual circles. hearing him groan is enough to calm any residual nerves that remain. sure, the effect you have on him is minuscule compared to what he’s doing to you, but it’s a small victory regardless. 

aemond falters for a brief moment, head thrown back as you feel the spike in his heartbeat. it makes your own skip a beat. but he recovers quickly, teasing your folds a bit more, finger circling your entrance.

“my good girl,” he whispers, lips pressed to the shell of your ear. 

before you even have the time to react to that, he slides a finger in, just the tip first, teasing, before he pulling the finger out again and thrusting it in. it’s faster this time, rougher. your insides feel like liquid, melting further and further with each graze of his callouses, with each thrust.

you scream his name as loud as you can, louder every time his thumb presses into your clit, chanting it so thoroughly, reciting it like a prayer and chasing your high. 

it’s frankly a surprise that you still have the ability to speak because every single part of your body feels like it’s melting, blood zapping through your body, pushing your heart into overdrive.

this time when aemond thrusts in, it’s with two fingers. you cry out at the sudden stretch, the burn that accompanies it. he falters when you jolt forward.

“did i hurt you, little sparrow?”

hurt?!

“no, i—” it takes you a moment to gather your thoughts, and to take the whiney edge off your voice. “that felt good… better than before. keep going, please, just—”

the prince doesn’t let you finish, pushing his fingers inside you again. the hilt of his palm crashes against your clit, rougher than before, and you body trembles from all of it. 

“perfect little sparrow,” his tongue flicks against your ear, “taking me so well.” 

his words add to the heady intoxication. your head spins, completely blanking out on anything else—the dizziness from your desire and the vertigo of being so high up, that… you think, is the most addicting feeling you have ever experienced. 

all that matters right now is aemond and his hands and his voice. his lips latch onto your neck, sucking on your sweet spot and peppering kisses, and this time the buzzing that fills your ears is nothing like before. 

now as your legs shake and spasm, you know you’re close. 

his fingers keep moving in and out, plunging into you, drawing out wet and obscene sounds until you feel them hooking inside you, without warning. when he parts his fingers inside you, stretching you more, it’s enough to push you over the edge. 

with a cry, you slump against him, gushing onto his hand, incapable of doing anything else as waves of pleasure crash onto you, blinding you almost.

for a second the world falls away, tilts on its axis, as you experience a mind numbing orgasm on the back of a dragon you were terrified of mere hours ago. 

“aem…” you falter, gasping as he continues to slide his fingers in and out, letting you ride out your orgasm. 

“shall we go back to the keep, little sparrow?” he whispers a moment later, “continue this without traumatising poor vhagar.”

you laugh, it’s a throaty chuckle more than anything. aemond’s fingers are still buried deep inside you, making you clench around him. 

in apology you stroke the dragon. “she’s a good girl.”

“oh, is she?” aemond asks, and you can already imagine his arched brow as he stares at you with a little smirk, his eye glinting in the darkness. 

“lets go back to the keep, my prince,” you nod, “the things i want you to do to me are better suited for a bed anyway…”

[moonsun2010]

8 July - Meet Seward, Renfield, and a little bird

these are part of an animatic summarising Dracula, which you can watch here (new readers beware; it has spoilers for the entire book!)

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