#> sparrow’s writing !!

[blistexenthusiast]

19th century wax seals

[mielkae]

Mcyt as Writing Prompts pt. 5

[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…”

[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?”

[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!)

✨️tip jar|commissions

[navybrat817]

Dark and Light

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You learn the real reason why Hydra wants to keep you.

Word Count: Over 2.65k

Warnings: Threat of dubcon/noncon, minor character death, violence, canon divergent, captivity, brainwashing, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: It's been almost 3 years since the last part of Soldat and Sparrow. Are you lovelies still interested? ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @silkholland . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The cell they kept you in this time was larger than your last. It didn't make it any less uncomfortable. The thick gray walls surrounding you made the room suffocatingly quiet and hollow. You only knew the color thanks to the singular lightbulb in the center of the ceiling, too high for you to try and make a weapon out of the glass. Without windows, you didn't know it was dark or light outside.

There was no escape, but you couldn't give up hope.

It was maddening not knowing the time of day as you played the waiting game on the worn mattress in between meals and sleeping. The screams of your lover played on a morbid loop in your mind and you had to will yourself to not let tears surface. Other than temporary relief for your emotions and aching heart, crying would do you no good. It never did.

What you needed to do was focus.

The man on the bridge.

He triggered something inside of the Winter Soldier. Something Hydra wanted to keep locked away. But what was it?

Bucky. He called him Bucky. He knew him. But how?

Two hard knocks on the door pushed the thought away before it swung open. Narrowing your eyes as Brock walked in, you wondered if he could’ve been a good man in another life and fought for the people who needed it most the way he pretended to. This wasn’t that life though. He chose his side.

The wrong side.

“You know, I don’t get it,” he said, crossing his arms as he stood in the doorway. He didn’t hide the lust from his eyes as he looked you over. “I mean, the Asset does his job well, but it’s like he forgets all about being a soldier when he’s deep in your pussy.”

“What can I say? I guess my pussy’s just that good,” you sneered, not in the mood for his taunts or anything else.

“Is that right? Maybe he should fuck your ass next to get the stick out of it,” he snapped back. “Or are you too stuck up for that?”

Pierce had a range of prostitutes lined up to satisfy his soldiers, but Brock didn’t hide how pissed off he was that you were “given” to the Asset after that fateful training day. He claimed it was special treatment. He dropped the issue almost as quickly as it was brought up, which led you to believe he was either reprimanded or given something to shut him up.

“Is that what bothers you, Rumlow? That I'd rather fuck him than you?” You asked, tilting your head as you regarded him. “And just so we’re clear, I’ll never want you.”

Brock clenched his fists as he took a step forward. “You really are a fucking-”

“Let her be,” a melodic voice ordered behind him, making you stiffen as he moved out of the way.

The doctor, or Doc as most called him, stepped into the room with a kind smile on his face. Unassuming in stature, you knew better from the start than to judge him by appearance. The man was a snake in the grass ready to spread his venom to unsuspecting victims.

“How are you?” He asked.

You kept your eyes on him as he moved closer, doing your best not to show any emotion. The doctor somehow made you more uncomfortable than Rumlow and that said something. “How do you think I'm doing?”

“Hmm. Not well, I'm sure.”

“You guessed correctly,” you said.

You didn’t know why he bothered asking. Maybe he thought he was better than the others because he didn't physically hurt you. If anything, his indifference to the evil around him made it worse. It told you that he either justified or accepted it.

Either way, he disgusted you.

“Don't worry. You'll have the Soldat back soon and I’m sure you'll feel all better,” he assured you.

“You wiped him,” you reminded him, your voice cracking.

His screams echoed in your mind again, your heart aching as you tried to block it out. When pain knocked on the door, it didn't wait for an answer. It broke it down and made itself at home. But in the pain Hydra inflicted, the soldier found solace with you and you found the same with him. The light for each other within the darkness.

While you failed to protect him and couldn't stop what they did to his mind, you had to believe you’d help heal his soul once you had him back.

“We did indeed as we have many times.”

You knocked his hand away as he tried to place it on your shoulder, your stomach turning from his words. “Don't touch me.”

He held his hands up in surrender as he took a step back. “I mean no harm.”

“All of you mean harm,” you whispered.

The Soldat was your only bright spot in this nightmare. Ironic that he thought you were fire, bright and warm. The truth was you burned because of him. He was your eternal fuel that made the flames grow.

“I only want what is best for you,” Doc argued, his eyes void of any emotional depth behind his rimless glasses.

“Liar,” you whispered.

An exasperated sigh left his lips. “Now, now. I really do want what’s best for you. Don't you realize how important you are?”

“I'm not important,” you said. You never were. “Pierce made it clear that I don't have a purpose.”

But if that was the case, why were you still alive?

The doctor's chuckle made your blood run cold. “That's what he wants you to think. You see, the more they cut you down and make you question your worth, the easier it becomes for you to comply. Because by that point you’re so desperate for survival you'll do what is asked of you,” he explained, pushing his glasses up. “Yet you still only comply to an extent. It’s rather fascinating.”

He stared at you like you were a bug under a magnifying glass. And wasn’t that what you were to him? An experiment or something for him to study? “I haven't complied. I won't.”

“Oh, but you have,” Brock chimed in. You almost forgot he was still in the room. “Those missions you completed. The lives you took.”

Bile rose in your throat as images of violence and blood flashed in your mind. They would haunt you for the rest of your days. “No, I didn't want to hurt anyone.”

“Of course, you didn't. It’s as I said: desperation. You did what you had to do to survive,” the false sympathy from Doc grated on your nerves. “Don't let the weight of those souls wear you down. They were meaningless. But you? Oh, you are meant for more.”

He attempted to touch you again, but his hand moved toward your stomach this time instead of your shoulder. “I said don't touch me!” you snapped, scrambling backward to put distance between the two of you. As much as you wanted to hurt him, Brock was still there and could do a lot of damage.

The doctor pressed his lips together before he smirked. “Pierce and Rumlow are right. You have a hold on him. Even with his programming and orders, it all comes back to you,” he said, your body going rigid. Where was he going with this? “And it’s you that we want to carry his child.”

Your stomach churned again, but you weren’t sure if it was more at the thought that he wanted to force a child on you or that he’d try and force your soldier to impregnate you. “Care to repeat that?”

“You’re going to carry his child. You’re going to give birth to the perfect soldier. And you’ll keep doing so,” he said slowly like you were a petulant child, standing tall and proud as your mouth fell open in horror. “You’re the perfect incubator.”

Your stomach sank as you looked between him and Brock, wishing it was a sick joke. “No, I won't.”

“You think you have a choice?” The doctor questioned nonchalantly, like he was asking what you wanted for dinner. “And do you think the Asset needs to remember exactly what you mean to him to fuck you? I guess we'll see if he does. Science versus instinct.”

The room became eerily silent as the doctor gave you his first genuine smile since he walked in. You struggled to get your bearings and process the words. That was why you were still alive. They were going to make you an incubator. Force your soldier to breed you. They would take another choice away from him. And raise your children in captivity.

In Hell on earth.

“Well, that shut the bitch up,” Brock chuckled.

Before you could think, you launched yourself from the bed. The doctor’s eyes widened as you tackled him to the ground, unable to brace himself as you landed the first blow to his face. You straddled his waist, the second hit knocking his glasses away as fury rushed through your veins like a wildfire. He didn’t try to fight you off.

You could’ve cried. Screamed. Anything to keep him from making his twisted plan a reality.

The sound of a gun cocking stopped you from hitting Doc a third time.

“I won’t kill you,” Brock said, your fist frozen in the air as you looked toward him. Your chest heaved as you stared down the barrel of the gun. “But I’ll make it hurt if you don’t get up.”

“Go ahead,” you said through clenched teeth.

The doctor coughed, but held up a hand. “No shooting,” he croaked as you looked at him out of the corner of your eye. “No harming her.”

Brock’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head. “She can still lie down and take a cock if-”

None of you could have foreseen the metal hand punching through the wall. Before you could blink, the hand closed around Brock’s shoulder and pulled him through, his cry of pain silenced almost immediately by the sound of a gunshot. The doctor beneath you was long forgotten as you scrambled to your feet just in time to see your soldier step into the room through the hole, his face obscured by his typical mask and goggles.

But you felt his gaze on you as he stood like a dark angel ready to avenge you.

Hope launched into your chest like a shooting star as you smiled. “Soldat,” you whispered.

He came for you. Found you. But the star that filled your heart quickly faded when he didn’t move toward you or say “Sparrow”.

The dread grew stronger when he holstered his gun and took out his signature knife.

Was this the beginning of the end?

The doctor smiled as he wiped the blood from his lap and slowly stood up. “You really think he’s here to save you? Oh, no. He just doesn’t want any competition near his breeding partner,” he taunted as your eyes stung. “Back from your assignment early, Soldat? Good. Now you can complete your mission.”

The Winter Soldier tilted his head before he took a step forward.

You remained rooted to the spot, casting your fear that he’d force himself on you aside. “Bucky,” you said, using the name you heard. His real name. A tear rolled down your cheek when he flinched and tightened his fingers around the handle. “I’m not going to fight you. Or hurt you. Do you know why?”

Another step forward, your heart pounded as you stood as still as a statue. “Why?” He asked, the word clear to you through his mask.

The tears flowed freely as he stopped in front of you and slipped his goggles off, your heart breaking when he dispassionately looked at you. “Because I’m your Sparrow. Remember? My fire burns for you and you only,” you told him and pointed to your chest. You needed him to remember. “We swore we’d be free together. Somehow.”

“Don’t listen to her. Breed her and be done with it,” the doctor ordered.

The soldier’s brows furrowed before his metal hand came up around your neck, not squeezing or bringing you any harm.

But it felt like a warning.

“You won’t hurt me,” you breathed out, placing your hand on his arm as you kept your panic at bay. “They won’t break me. And I won’t leave you,” you promised, echoing his words when he took you the first time. “I’m yours.”

No matter what they forced him to do to you, he would never be to blame.

The doctor had the gall to smack the flesh arm when he made no move to shove you down on the bed or remove your clothes. “Finish your mission. Now.”

“It’s okay,” you mouthed.

Somehow, it would be okay.

“My mission…” the soldier began mechanically, not taking his eyes off you as he plunged the knife into the doctor’s jugular. You weren’t sure you could breathe. “Is to keep my Sparrow safe.”

An intake of air caught your sob as the metal hand fell away, the doctor collapsing as he tried in vain to stop the blood from leaving his body. It was useless. And a kinder death than he deserved.

“Hail,” he gurgled, his fingers stained red. “Hydra.”

“Just shut up and die,” you snapped as your soldier ripped his mask off. “Soldat,” you said, softer, almost crying all over again.

“Sparrow,” he whispered.

There was nothing gentle or sweet in the way pressed his lips to yours, but it was warm and safe as he pulled you against you. Your arms slipped around him as you returned the kiss, your cheeks still wet from crying. For a second there, you thought you’d lost him. For once, fate decided not to be cruel to you.

It brought you back together.

“I’m sorry I couldn't get to you sooner,” he said when he allowed you a moment to breathe, quickly scanning as much of you as he could. “Did they hurt you?”

“No, I’m okay. I just thought…” you trailed off with a shake of your head. “You came back to me.”

But how?

“I’ll always find you, Sparrow,” he said, touching your cheek as your heart swelled. “Steve helped me remember a lot of things. Including you.”

“The man on the bridge? You saw him again?” You asked before an alarm sounded, the blaring force echoing in the room.

“Yes. And his friend is sending reinforcements, so we need to go,” he said over the noise, nudging the doctor’s body with the toe of his boot before he stepped on his glasses.

“Where are we going?” You asked.

Where could you go since you no longer had a home? You had so many questions, but understood that you’d have to wait for answers. Getting out of there in one piece was your priority.

“Somewhere safe,” he answered, fear flickering in his eyes for a moment. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life,” you promised without hesitation. And anything else you had to offer him.

The next kiss was one of gentleness, relief, and thanks. “One thing before we leave.”

“What’s that?” You asked as he took your hand.

Love and determination filled his eyes as he glanced back at you and put a gun in your other hand. “We burn it down.”

You could hardly contain the fire inside you as you smiled. “Together.”

You didn’t know what the reinforcements would do or what would await you once you got out. It didn’t matter. Your soldier found his way back to you and you would follow wherever he went. The two of you would finally leave Hydra behind.

In a pile of rubble and ash.

But you’d find out soon enough that the man on the bridge wouldn't let your soldier go either.

I'll try not to let so much time pass before the next update. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[dawnrisessx0]

the tua fics where reader meets sparrow!ben after loving umbrella!ben in the other time are so cute yes but. what about reader meets sparrow!ben after vaguely being aware of the other timeline’s ben (if she wasn’t a sibling and was just a lady with powers) and sparrow ben is going insane cause wdym the love of his life thinks he’s a total weirdo and has never seen him before??

[champion-of-love]

omake from my fic (for the faint of hearts)

daring, annoyed and entering his and hopper's room after classes ended: why did you tell cupid and briar that i asked lizzie out because of the bet with sparrow?

hopper, whose self-preservation instincts have been sharply honed after hanging out with briar and cupid for the past few months: they knew i had gym with you and sparrow earlier that day and figured i'd know something. sorry dude but they'd waterboard it out of me if i didn't tell them

~flashback~

hopper, holding a tray of coffee in one hand and a box of cupcakes in another as he enters cupid's radio booth with cupid and briar already inside: oh my hex, you guys you will not believe what just happened at the hocus pocus cafe earlier

[cripplecharacters]

Any tips for writing a disabled villain without making it seem like villainizing disabled people if that makes sense? My story has other characters including the protagonist that are disabled so I’m hoping this helps mitigate this some but I’m still fearful people will read it in that way.

Hey, thanks for the ask.

My main tips are going to be:

Don't tie the villain's motivations to their disability. For example, characters who are like "I lost my ability to walk and it made me so angry I became evil!" or "I was severely burnt and that was enough to make me hate everyone and be evil," or "Because I was born disabled I don't like anyone and want to be evil," or anything like that. These are pretty common in media, and they suck. Often they are also coupled with a cure narrative, or even a forcible cure narrative for people other than the villain.

Don't use their disability’s symptoms by themselves as a signifier of their villain-ness. Scars don’t make you look malicious, if they have prosthetics they don't need to put weapons in them, if they’re blind and their eyes have a visible difference that’s not a sign of them not caring, and the like. In media this also often means a villain wearing a masc to hide their facial differences, and them removing the mask is meant to make them look More Evil or More Ominous, but their facial difference is not what makes them a villain or at the very least it should not be.

Describe their disability’s signs and symptoms as neutral. It's not their Terrible Lack Of Walking, it's just they can't walk. It's not their Horrible Scarring, they just have scars. (I mention these conditions often because they pop up over and over again in media.)

For contrast, maybe they can have a similar disability to a character who isn’t a villain. This can send the message that it's not the disability, it's just that person who is a villain. While of course anyone can be an awful person, even disabled people, the overrepresentation of disability in awful characters makes it so that balance is necessary.

— mod sparrow

Hi, I 100% agree with Sparrow! Here's my two cents specifically about visibly disabled villains;

If you decide to make your villain's disability visible, have equally-or-preferably-more visibly disabled heroes as well. Example of what I see fairly often is "the hero has a cool and badass scar through the eye, while the villain has a major craniofacial condition, or a very large burn scar which is scary and ugly" - this sucks and obviously contributes to disfiguremisic stereotypes. Physical appearance shouldn't be a metaphor for being a bad person. Similar example would be making your hero an arm amputee with a prosthetic that looks just like a real arm while making the villain into a quadruple amputee who uses a powerchair; or making your hero's chronic pain invisible while the villain has an obvious limp, etc.

In general, try to think on why you are deciding to give your villain a particular disability. Is it because it's "tragic" and thus fits their backstory? Is it something that villains "just have" in other media? Because it's severe, so it would "make them bitter and evil"? Villains and disability have a thousand different tropes connecting them, so try and be aware of the choices you make here, and correct them if necessary.

If you have any further questions, feel free to send another ask :-)

mod Sasza

[watchtowerindistress]

the empath and the eldritch horror (1/5) - ben hargreeves x empath!reader

Summary: Number 8 challenged him. Ben just needed to decide if he liked it or not. Nope, definitely hated it. There was no way in hell he actually liked the little Empath.

Word count: 3.1k

Series masterlist

Warnings: sparrow!ben is a warning in itself, language, violence, mental abuse (y'know Reginald's usual schtick)

Author’s note: I'm merely writing moments in the lives of these characters, since I don't know all the quotes. So the chapters are going to feel like snippets/best moments. I made this series shorter than I expected, but I'm cramming everything together as I wanted. (Set in S3)

I didn't feel like doing a lot of world-building, to be honest. I'm aware this isn't my best work, sorry, my depression makes me tired. I just realized when I wrote that dojo scene that I liked Sparrow!Ben so much because he reminded me of an older version of Damian Wayne. 😅 Please be gentle 🤗 I've never written for this fandom before. You want to be tagged or untagged, let me know. As always, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated.

“Where the hell is my brother?”

Your determined voice carried to the departing backs of Ben and Fei. Even walking through those corridors in this strange timeline felt utterly surreal. Not to mention, profoundly strange seeing this older version of Ben. After remembering the pictures of when he was still alive.

So, you could only compare this version with the stories Klaus loved to tell. A funny mess. And most of the time a little shit.

Judging by the sarcastic look Ben threw over his shoulder before he fully turned his body, this version of Ben certainly was willing to stir some trouble.

Ben smirked. Fei copied his arrogant demeanor next to him, silently watching this exchange.

“Relax, we just want to have a little chat, and then we’re done with you two.”

Just hearing him talk so unceremoniously about your lives like that simmered something inside you. Like the two of you didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Like Luther and you were barely a blip on their radar.

Your face contorted with anger. To infuriate him just a tad, with the way he infuriated you with his callous words, your body barely leaned forward.

“We’re not things you can just dispose of once we served our purpose.”

Ben tilted his head. There was something fascinating about rendering someone like him speechless for a moment. You weren’t foolish enough to think you were getting to him. Your fingertips twirled behind your back to get a grasp on Ben’s emotions, only to sense something akin to a daze tingling under the surface. Not trusting your own empathetic powers what you detected was real.

Barely turning his head, Ben spoke to Fei with a certain voice. “I can handle this one.”

Fei smirked to herself before murmuring, “I’m sure you do,” and leaving Ben on his own.

He laced his fingers behind his back while playfully dancing on the back of his feet. Ben pursed his lips. “Something I can help you with?”

“How about being the responsible one by having a real conversation instead of using people for your benefit by literally abducting them, huh?”

Ben nodded repetitively, like he couldn’t care less about anyone’s feelings. “Right.” He narrowed his eyes in thought. “What’s the name of the big guy again?”

You conjured a patient smile. “Luther. You know, your brother from another timeline?”

Ben crossed his arms, revealing a crooked smile. “As everyone keeps telling me. I wouldn’t call it an abduction,” he exhaled tiredly, shrugging slightly.

“Are we allowed to leave?”

Ben pursed his lips. “I think he’s starting to like it here. And, you know, you seem seconds away from falling for our charms. We do have things to offer that your precious Umbrellas can only dream of.”

Mocking laughter erupted from your chest before Ben joined in. “Right. Wow, someone’s really sold on themselves.”

“I mean, calling it an abduction? Sounds kinda judgmental, don’t you think?”

You clenched your jaw. Remembering Luther’s emotions brought you back to the park, like they were your own. “I felt his desperation ahead of me,” you replied, deciding to remind him.

At the mention, Ben pointed at you, remembering. “So, you’re the emotional one, huh? What’s your number again?”

“I’m not just a number, Hargreeves.” You placed your hands on your hips. “Not surprised that you would deem something like empathy barely a power. I’d like to see you handle an anxiety attack when I’m done with you.”

Ben waved his arms at his sides. His aura was literally shimmering with excitement as he smirked widely. “Oh, don’t threaten me with a good time.”

You rolled your eyes. It seemed like this version of Ben felt drawn to any sort of mischief, the more the better. “And I thought Klaus was the crazy one,” you muttered under your breath. With a normal voice, you inquired, “Where’s Luther?”

“Probably in the kitchen still miserably failing at charming the pants off Sloane.”

A sigh left you when you mutely walked away towards the direction of Fei’s departure. Truth be told, only to get away from Ben faster.

You had already walked away with brisk steps when Ben’s arrogant sing-song voice made you regret all your life choices. “Other way.”

You instantly turned, while grumbling under your breath, “Fucking smart-ass.” You didn’t need to spare him a glance to feel Ben’s arrogant joy coming off of him in waves when he leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms in delight.

“You know where to find me if you want to work on those powers of yours, … Number Eight.” Ben chuckled with mirth.

Self-loathing rippled through you just a tad for not letting your power detect Luther’s aura through the mansion to avoid this embarrassing situation altogether. And you blamed yourself for underestimating him. For thinking Ben wouldn’t have interrogated Luther about you.

“So, this is what you guys are doing in your free time, huh?”

Ben’s eyes remained closed when he performed his tai chi movements in the dojo, not letting himself appear to be ruffled by your presence.

“This tells me everything I need to know about your squadron of Umbrellas. How does it feel wasting your day away, not improving?”

You remained unfazed by his choice of insults. In the end, you were used to Reginald’s mental abuse. Your eyes followed his movements, content with watching his little ritual while leaning with your shoulder against the pillar.

“Depends. What’s it feel like when you’re not being a mascot for a Hargreeves empire?”

Ben scoffed in derision. “You think you can distract me?”

Grateful for his answer, you smiled in pure delight before sitting cross-legged on the middle of the training mat. “Oh, I know I am. Besides, I wanted to take you up on that offer which was made by a helpful Ben.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Don’t ever call me that. You’re delusional for thinking I want to help you.”

You dramatically pressed your hand to your chest. “‘Oh, Y/N, I just can’t live with myself if something happened to you. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, even if that means helping you advance your powers.’”

Forced laughter erupted from Ben’s chest. “Har har, and I thought Sundance was the hilarious one.”

“Klaus.” You reminded him diligently.

Ben rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Empath.”

You were strangely getting used to this Ben and felt truly like you were having a grand ol' time with him. Even if that meant ruffling his feathers. “You want to know what I think?”

“No,” Ben muttered with a gruff voice.

You continued as if you hadn’t heard him, “Someone’s really pretending that they don’t care about anyone or anything. Or, second theory-”

“I’m on the edge of my seat,” Ben interrupted you wryly.

“Maybe you don’t mind a distraction to take your mind off things.”

This time around, Ben turned to face you before he knelt down. Leaning over you until you could feel his warm breath on your skin. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”

“I’m the emotional one, remember?” You whispered before you pursed your lips when a thought hit you. “Not to mention, I can feel your curiosity, with a smidge of you itching for a fight.”

Ben snorted. “You’re adorable for thinking you can take me in a fight-”

An angelic smile tugged at your mouth. Your fingers brushed against his bare chest which was revealed underneath the dark robe. Your fingertips tingled before you let your power come to the surface.

The golden shimmer enshrouded Ben’s chest, pulling him backwards. No matter how many times you had done it before, your hands cautiously studied his aura once you heard his heavy breathing.

You still whispered soothingly, “That’s the sensation you get for being close to fainting. That feeling of vertigo tormenting your body and like your head can’t get enough air.”

The caring side of you stroked Ben’s feverish forehead until the dizzying spell lessened and was finally relieved.

You swallowed once you met Ben’s darkened gaze. He stared at you with glittering eyes, like he was truly seeing you for the first time. Ben licked his lips. “I think … I might have some use for you after all.”

“You may not know this, but my power doesn’t work like a medium,” you said, nervously rubbing your thighs to stimulate your senses.

Ben sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. The Sparrow had changed back into a shirt after the impromptu training session. He leaned forward and warned through clenched teeth. “Do you want to be of help, or not? Get this done, and you and your brother can go back to whatever shithole you stay at.”

“Not with this type of energy in the room.” You widened your eyes at Ben’s glowering ones to make your point. Before long you sat down on Marcus’ bed, with a bored Fei leaning against the door jamb.

Ben’s sister twiddled her manicured fingernails. “Is this a waste of time?”

He clenched his jaw, facing her. “No, it’s not. I know what she can do.”

“Aww, Benny-boo, you believe in me. That’s so cute. Who knew you had a heart?”

Fei smirked, tilting her head. “Not me.”

“You guys are hilarious. Are we done with the ‘band together against Ben today’? I’m doing whatever it takes to locate Marcus here and you two are not helping with the situation.”

You pressed your lips together at Ben’s all too serious demeanor. “Just trying to lighten the mood since your tense atmosphere isn’t helping with the task at hand.”

Ben shared a close-lipped smile, caging your body in on the bed. Despite his threatening air, you remained steadfast and didn’t move an inch.

“Do you mind just doing the thing before I lose my mind and let my tentacles do the talking?”

You narrowed your eyes. Ben needed to work on his lacking social skills, if his only resort were threats. “Say please?”

You could breathe easier again when Ben straightened his body and crossed his arms. “Keep dreaming.”

You exhaled heavily. Half the time he was fun to talk to and other times, he wore you out. “Just give me something of his that holds emotional value,” you mentioned, patiently waiting. The awkward silence confused you to no end. Ben and Fei exchanged glances among each other.

“Why is nothing happening?”

Ben turned to Fei. “Get Sloane.”

His sister tilted her head, challenging him. “Oh, I can just summon my crows.”

The muscles on Ben’s arms tensed before his jaw clenched with his next words. “Fei, take a walk.”

Her shoulder shook with mirth when Fei left with relaxed steps.

Ben’s sarcastic voice pulled you back to him. “I’m guessing giving you one of his leather jackets wouldn’t count, right?”

Your elbows supported you when you settled back. “Wouldn’t get the desired effect. So, let me guess, you guys are just numbers and soldiers?”

Ben shrugged, leaning his hip against the cabinet. “Gets the job done.”

“And you’re content with that?”

“It’s the only thing that matters.”

You didn’t believe him for a second. Or at least, you couldn’t imagine someone being satisfied with being so shallow. “Right. Because being associated to a number is all that matters.”

Ben smirked crookedly. “Oh, there’s nothing better.”

“Right, Number Two,” you added, trying to get to him.

“You trying to flirt with me, Eight?”

You rolled your eyes, retorting, “You wish.”

Ben chuckled, pondering to himself. “Who’d have thought? Maybe I prefer calling you Empath more than Eight. It’s pretty close though.”

You shook your head, feeling your cheeks blush at being more intertwined with that status of Empath than a generic number. “You’re weird.”

The mood of his aura changed to something unfamiliar. At least to someone like Ben. He cleared his throat. “So,…”

“So…?” You teasingly copied him, putting the side of your head against your shoulder, watching his reaction.

Ben crossed his arms. “What was he like?”

“Our Ben? Why do you want to know?” To you, it seemed strange for someone like him to inquire about his alternate version.

He eyed something outside the window. “Just curious, I guess,” Ben said, still not looking at you.

“Why don’t you ask Klaus or the others? I only met Ben after he was dead.”

“Wait, what?” That finally got a reaction out of Ben when he rapidly turned his head to stare at you with a peculiar gaze.

You sighed, remembering the circumstances of you meeting your siblings for the first time. “Reginald called me ‘the replacement’.”

Maybe this was ultimately his plan to ostracize you from the others by using that term. At least, you had Diego and Luther at your side. Klaus soon joined that tight-knit little circle once you confided in feeling that sensation of an unfamiliar aura wandering the halls of the manor.

Sometimes it still hurt how everything progressed. Your siblings emanating their grief onto you didn’t bother you. It was their apathy, that they didn’t care about you.

“I was taken in after Ben’s death. I could only feel his aura around after he was dead. I can sense who someone is in a way. Feel what kind of a person they are. Ben was always…” You pondered deeply how to describe someone like him. How to condense someone’s life and traits into the essence of someone.

“Kind, intelligent, mostly mischievous.” You smiled fondly, whispering quietly, “I could never replace him even if I tried.”

You didn’t know what it was about your gaze that made the Sparrow avoid it again. With the shaking of your head, you dispelled your thoughts. The new aura close by tickling your fingertips was a fitting distraction.

You glanced towards the open door. “Hey, Sloane.”

Seconds later, said woman poked her head into the room, smiling with a delighted air. “Neat party trick.”

An expectant Ben raised his eyebrows, interrupting any further carefree moments. “Sloane, Marcus’ favorite stuff he liked to touch?”

You felt inclined to add something else before more inquiries could arise. “In other words, yes. Or something that mattered to him.”

“There should be a book in his nightstand.”

That was the only mention Ben needed before he opened the drawer. Ben shook his head with a scoff, inspecting the worn edition. He showed his sisters the found evidence. “Are you kidding me? The Velveteen Rabbit?”

Sloane waved her open palms soothingly. “Remember we just want Marcus back.”

“What a nerd,” he grumbled, carelessly giving you the book.

“Says you? It’s a timeless classic,” you admonished Ben lightly before reaching for the hardcover edition.

Ben smirked. “I rest my case.” He furrowed his brows when a second thought hit him. “And what did you just say to me?”

You chose to ignore Ben’s little angry outburst when Sloane sat next to you on the bed. “Will it be enough for you to build a psychic connection?”

You closed your eyes, trying to hone in on the source. With your fingertips brushing along the spine of the book, your search for the truth was soon answered with the first memory remnants hitting you. Shivers coursed through your body at the sensation of Marcus’ memories filling your mind like they were your own.

There was an abundance of wishful thinking contained into the book, the craving of a different reality when Marcus’ birth mother granted him this first and last gift.

“It should suffice,” you said assuredly. With a calming sigh, you leaned your head back against the pillows. The book was held tightly in your grip.

“Yeah, sure. Have a nap, why don’t you? Something else you need? Maybe some soothing music, a face mask?”

Your eyes remained closed when you murmured, “Ben Hargreeves.” To get the message across, you made a quiet coyote signal. Hoping it would calm his frayed nerves.

A ripple of Ben’s undignified frustration wafted through the air. His only answer was a harrumphing noise.

You stirred your head, biting your lip in confusion. “I can feel a strong enough remnant, but I should be able to sense his location.”

“What are you saying?” Ben inquired tightly.

You chose your next words carefully. “I’m saying, … I can’t feel Marcus.”

“What does this mean?” Fei’s strained voice shared Ben’s sentiment. “Are you saying he’s dead? Abducted?”

At last, you opened your eyes. The perplexity of this unsolved mystery still plaguing your mind even after. It was more than nerve-wracking. “I’m saying that I should be able to find him, but I can’t. It’s like he just … vanished.”

The air crackled with hostility. Anxiously, you swallowed, staring straightforward. You jumped back when Ben’s wrath reached you.

Holding you down with his tentacles, with one of them slinging around your throat. Tightly but menacingly enough to spell out his primal urges. Ben’s body draped over yours. Fury blazed in his darkened eyes. “Now, Umbrella, I’m done with your little mind games.”

Sloane stood behind Ben’s shoulder, raising her voice. “Ben, let go.”

“Not until I find out what her family has done to him.”

With a hoarse voice, you implored darkly, “Listen to your sister before your Cthulu tentacles get the memo about me too.” As a warning, you gripped the surprisingly smooth appendage around your throat.

You cursed your curious mind for even harboring the thought of wanting to know how the tentacle’s skin would feel like.

Ben’s smile grew tighter, the more his eldritch monster’s hold intensified. “Try me, Eight.”

Summoning empathetic energy from within to converse it as a kinetic shield, you blasted him against the cabinet and leaving small splinters of wood on the carpet.

With a grunting noise, Ben’s tentacles drew back into his body. “Alright,” he murmured reluctantly. Ben dragged his body upwards until he was leaning against the furniture for support. He offered a blood-stained smile in reverence before he wiped off the crimson evidence from his lips. “Little minx.”

A dull thud resounded when you dropped the book on the duvet. You stood up and with a quiet voice you told Ben in no uncertain terms, “Don’t ever threaten me again.”

Remembering the company of Ben’s sisters and the result of your outburst, you awkwardly glanced at them before your feet led you towards the open door.

Wordlessly, Fei turned her body to make room. Her gaze roamed over your body with fondness after your display of power. As soon as you left the room, her dry voice remarked, “I’d consider this a success.”

Tagging: @cherryinsalemverse @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @ravenmoore14 @blackmagicwoman @lelaamela

[mynicknameisgasoline]

Incorrect Quotes 1/4

okay so maybe i write a little bit

1.

y/n: So are we flirting right now? Five: I AM LITERALLY STABBING YOU y/n: That doesn’t answer my question

2.

y/n: Sorry it took me so long to bail you out of jail Klaus: No it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have used my one phone call to prank call the police

3.

y/n: I CAN'T DO IT! Klaus, laughing: I CAN'T EITHER! Diego: WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, YOU CAN EITHER GIVE UP NOW, OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE WE CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU, AND WE KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT US. y/n: BUT LOOK WHAT WE'RE DEALING WITH- Viktor: y/n- y/n: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE! Lila: y/n we gotta- y/n: YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY 'What am I willing to put up with today?' y/n, motioning to season 3 allison: NOT FUCKING THIS

4.

y/n: I’m kind of crushing on someone, but I’m worried about telling you who it is, because you’re not going to like it Klaus: Just rip the bandage off. y/n: It’s sparrow ben Klaus: Put the bandage back on.

5.

Luther: Are you the big spoon or the little spoon? Five: I'm a knife. y/n, from across the room: They're the little spoon.

6.

Klaus: What if I press the brake and gas at the same time? y/n: The car takes a screenshot. Five: For the last time, get the fuck out.

7.

y/n: Ben, I'm sad. Ben: *Holds out arms for a hug* It’s going to be okay. Klaus: Ben, I'm sad. Ben, nodding: mood.

8.

'Can I copy the homework?' Five: No. y/n: Yeah, sure. Klaus: Bold of you to assume I did the homework. Diego: lol nope. Lila: Wait, we had homework?!?!?! Vanya: *Read 5:55pm*

9.

Allison: y/n... How do I begin to explain y/n? Klaus: y/n is flawless. Lila: I hear their hair's insured for $10,000. Luther: I hear they do car commercials... in Japan. Five, muttering: One time they punched me in the face... it was awesome.

10.

y.n: Rules are made to be broken. Five: They were made to be followed. Nothing is made to be broken. Klaus: Uh, piñatas. Diego: Glow sticks. Lila: Karate boards. Vanya: Spaghetti when you have a small pot. y/n: Rules. Five: ...

[socksracoon10]

The Banter of Thieves

Pairing: Jack Sparrow x F!Reader

Jack Sparrow was by no means your friend. He wasn't even an acquaintance. His mere presence irked you, caused you to vomit overboard and wipe the drool that dabbled your chin as you spat out the lovely painting your stomach decided to spew out. The entire Caribbean sea knew better than to mess with you; you were the jewel of the ocean, the only woman to have stood for so long on your feet without ever backing down. Once your crew was outnumbered by the British officers, but you bravely traversed the seas and implied that you had more guts than your opponents. Another instance was when you managed to have stolen an artifact aboard a merchant ship that costed you a good fortune. You were the talk of Tortuga for weeks on end - added to that were rounds of free rum with jealous ladies and ecstatic men surrounding your presence.

So it was of to no surprise that upon hearing your name being tossed around like a ball, Jack Sparrow would've felt a little bit of resentment. Well, not a little - it was a LOT. He was devastated, he was hurt. How could the people trample around singing your name when HE was the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow! THE Captain Jack Sparrow of THE Black Pearl! He couldn't handle it. He just couldn't sit there and watch you swinging your arms around with the other pirates, gleefully cheering on your success. Drink after drink, he noticed the amount of rum you were being passed. Some men forced a glass to you, and though you politely declined, he noticed the way you'd give in after the third persistent person chimed in with a 'please' and there the rum would go down. It would cascade down your neck, around your breasts and find itself sloshed on the ground; Jack hated it. He hated to see the sight of pure, good rum being wasted away like that. 

When you were passed out, slouched against a sturdy chair with the glass still in your hand, Jack had tip-toed to where you sat and stood over your sleeping form. You weren't a hideous creature; he'd seen much worse on his escapades. In his mind, he couldn't fathom to understand how a girl as beautiful and intelligent such as yourself could have the nerve to be a pirate and go against him? Him? Ugh, it made his blood curl at the thought. In any other circumstances, he would've tried to woo you or played some sort of game, but clearly those options were out the window. His eyes cast over to you once again, and he caught onto the tiny sliver of shimmering gold tucked away in your shirt against your bosom. Pursing his lips together, he grabbed a small dagger and carefully used the blade to hook onto the gold's chain; despite being a pirate, he still had SOME manners. Not all of them for a gentlemen, but at least enough so that he wouldn't have to be slapped by the rest of the women on Tortuga. Two was enough for him at the moment. Lifting the chain up into the air, his eyes flickered onto you for a brief moment; you stirred in your sleep, but not too much to indicate that you might be awake. He sighed in relief, holding the chain to the light as his eyes followed the path down to an intricately designed key. He narrowed his eyes at the design pattern, noticing a fresh emblem with the letters "C.D." inscribed. His eyes widened, bringing it closer to him. No, he couldn't believe it. How did she manage to find the key for The Cure of the Dead? Impossible! He pocketed the key, grabbing the glass of rum from her as she whined in her sleep. Chugging it down, he let out a hiss as the liquid flowed down his throat and marched out of the tavern with a new mission set on his mind.

"I'm going to cut off that dirty bastard's prying fingers," You growled, seated firmly in the cabin of your ship; when you had woken up after, you already knew what must've happened when the gold chain was missing and you cursed every God that existed in your mind to help you find Sparrow before he'd get his filthy, grubby hands on what you had desired. The Cure was no simple thing - no, it was not a simple little vial or a chest of wealth - it was much more. There was a certain ritual that was foretold in the legend; the one soul, after giving up four equal drops of blood, would be able to pursue the path of immortality and greatness. Your father had spent ages pillaging and tormenting anyone who proved to be an obstacle just to find the key. And now, under your possession - or well, was under your possession - you were extremely keen on protecting your father's legacy through the key, anxious to seek the glory in honor of your fearless father. At the present moment, that dream was starting to sink faster than a ship caught in a whirlpool thanks to the lovely Captain Jack Sparrow himself.

A few days had passed among the seas and your crew had slowly abandoned your ship, one by one. They knew it was going to be a very tiresome journey, but you should've known better that the slightest inconvenience would have them scuttling away back to their mummies. You cursed at them as they rowed away, swearing to enact your revenge one day if they ever dared to return to your captaincy. Your eyes shifted from them to the large island approaching your ship. You noticed another ship seated on the shore, some crewmen walking about the deck or on the sandy land. Assuming this was Jack's crew, you managed to park your vessel besides them and leaned over the deck to bellow,

"Oi! Is that Gibbs I see there?" 

The old man swiftly turned at the mention of his name, narrowing his eyes at you with a scowl.

"Aye it be, Captain (L/N)," He rolled his eyes, nudging Raggetti whose bulging eyes seemed to seep right through you. Grimacing at the sight of the skeleton-like man, you climbed down onto the beach shore and dug your hands in your pockets.

"Where is that scoundrel?" You snapped, marching forward as a hand rested on the hilt of your sword. Gibbs scoffed, 

"Bit of a strong word to use there, love," He paused for a moment, rubbing his nose before looking at you, "But if you must know, he went through the trees himself."

"Nobody else with him?" 

"Nobody else."

"Well, then, after I acquire what is rightfully man, you all will very much be welcome aboard my ship." You grinned, scanning Jack's crew.

"But we've already got ourself a captain," Raggetti scorned to which you quickly added,

"Not after I'm through with Jack, you won't."

You left the gaping faces behind as you marched into the leafy forest ahead of you. Stepping over a few roots, you noticed a distinct imprint on the mud just a few inches from where you stood; the fool must've slipped and fell on his own face. With a guttural groan, you pushed through and followed the signs among your surroundings, the very same that your father used to tell you. Remembering his tales comforted you immensely, and you wished he was here to see his little girl all grown up and ready to see the treasure he had wished for so long. He would be proud of her, he would've loved her. He would've... surely not expected to see Jack Sparrow stuck between the branches of a tree.

"Jack?" You cocked your head to the side, stepping around the tree to see his face. His features were all scrunched up as he tugged his body to the best of his ability against the branches.

"Those stupid roots!" He exclaimed in a muffled tone. He cried out in exasperation, continuing to tug himself as much as he could before shrieking, "Don't just stand there! Help me!"

You stepped forward, just about ready to push his face out but you caught yourself, hands still in the air as you raised an eyebrow, "Give me the key first, and then I shall help you."

Upon hearing your words, Jack huffed out in annoyance, "Darlin', I think there's something more important here than your stupid key. Help me, first."

"No," You hissed, "You give me the key, and then I'll help you." You extended your arm out, beckoning for him to hand over your prized possession. Jack glared at you, muttering some cursed under his breath; you could've sworn he had said "that insufferable wench" and you scowled at him.

"Listen, love... darling... sweetheart," He groaned between tugs, "If you help me, I swear I'll hand over the key to you."

"You swear? You swear on your ship?" You prodded, and unbeknownst to you, he crossed his fingers behind his back,

"Of course! Of course, my love! N-Now just g-get me out of this stupid mess!" He seethed. You rolled up your sleeves, and placed your palms against his face, beginning to apply pressure.

"Ow... ow, ow, ow, ow, that's my precious face! You're gonna mush my skull in!" Jack screamed, and your blood boiled at his ungratefulness, causing you to begin pushing harder. You tuned out his cries of pain, finally released him from the stockade-like tree, and watched him howl and roll around the dirt. You kicked the side of his body, extending your hand out again for the key. He groaned as he sat up, taking your hand to lift him off the ground.

"You idiot!" You hissed, swatting his hand away, "I want the key!"

Jack blinked a few times, biting the inside of his cheek, "And here I really thought you'd care for me."

Standing back up on his feet, he noticed the way your gaze never faltered on him. He gave a disgusted expression towards you, sauntering off towards the cave opening with a determined mission on his mind. He paused, looking back at you with your open hand for a brief moment, before instantly picking up his pace. Screaming in anger, you charged after him and hopped onto his back, tugging his locks of hair as he shrieked in pain.

"Ow! Ow! Off, off! Look, women aren't meant to pull on my hair unless we're laying in bed together!" Jack hollered.

"I'm a pirate, you oaf, I can do as I please!" You bellowed, tugging harder and steering him away from the cave opening's keyhole. He stumbled backward and stood still for a moment trying to process something in his head,

"You mean to tell me you're not a woman?" He asked in a genuine tone of voice, before gasping loudly, "You deceitful bastard! You mean to tell me you're a filthy bugger impersonating a female?"

"Are you stupid?" You snarled, completely flabbergasted by his words. Not only was he the most aggravating pirate you'd ever met, but currently while on his back, he was definitely the stupidest one you'd ever come across. Jack trudged forward, trying his best to ignore the sharp pain of his hair practically ripping off his scalp as he shoved the key into its designated home. You cried out in frustration, watching the cave slowly open to reveal the circular stage under the beam of light. Upon seeing the glory in front of you, your head poked around his hair and leaned forward, completely in awe of its beauty. 

"You know, you can get off me back now," Jack smirked, turning his head ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of you. You shut your gaping mouth and hopped off him, dusting yourself of any of his filth as you walked past him. It was almost a dance in the way you blocked his path towards the light, your back facing him as your foot extended outwards and your body swayed.

"Don't be a child," Jack mumbled, stepping back and forth as he tried to find a way around you.

"Shut up, you don't even understand the value of this discovery. My father had spent ages-" You began before being cut off,

"Oh, the same old wishy-washy, swishy-swashy story. We know the legend, we know the journey (Y/N)," Jack yawned, "Your father was a thief for stealing that from Davy Jones."

"Thief? He was a pirate, if anyone's a thief you're the thief! You stole it from me when I was asleep!" You roared. Jack chuckled at your answer when you turned to face him,

"Pirate," He gestured to himself, with his eyebrows raising in the process, "It's part of the job description. And now you're a thief for wanting to steal what's mine... especially after the hell you just put me through," He moaned, rubbing his scalp, gently.

"It's mine." You hissed.

"No, it's mine," Jack stated, pointing to the circular stage.

"Mine."

"Nope, still mine, darlin'."

"You buffoon! It's mine! I get to be immortal, not you!"

"Eh, I've escaped death more times than you have, it's definitely mine, love."

"MINE!"

"Oi, don't raise your voice at me. My ears are a bit sensitive," Jack raised a finger, "Still mine, though."

"IT'S MINE, JACK!"

"Now you're just actin' like a child, be a lady... if you even are one," He raised an eyebrow with a suspicious look on his face. That was it, you couldn't take this banter any longer. You lunged forward, tackling him onto the stage as his head scraped against the rocky material. He groaned in pain as he thrashed around, rolling over you. Your elbows brazed against the ground under you and you hissed in pain before grabbing onto Jack's neck and dragging him under you.

As the fighting ensued, you both were completely oblivious to the drops of blood that seeped into the cracks beneath you. You tossed a punch at his jaw as he pulled your hair roughly. The opening of the wall behind you two was overshadowed by the insults that were thrown around with the occasional scream tossed into the mix. It wasn't until the light above you shifted towards the treasure chest meters away did the both of you stopped fighting; you lay on top of him, your head snapping towards the direction of the light as he did the same.

"Is that supposed to happen?" Jack asked, frowning.

"I-I don't know. I never really thought I'd get this far." You replied, trying to make out the sudden shift of the light. In an instant, Jack shoved you off him and bolted towards the chest. His fingers wriggled excitedly as he had a playful smirk on his face. He wrapped his hands around the edges of the chest and brought it open, only to find a small sheet of paper with instructions. That was a whole lot of build-up to nothing.

Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed your unconscious form slouched against a stone. He winced at the sight, carefully walking over to you. He must've shoved you too hard against the rocky stone when he flew to the chest. He glanced back down to the instructions in his hand, before looking back up to you. He took a deep sigh, realizing what he had to do.

When you had woken up, you found your head bandaged firmly. You lay on a small hammock as Gibbs stood before you.

"Aye, you aren't too much of a bad shape. It's a lucky thing Jack managed to bring you in like that." Gibbs smiled, his fingers brushing against your head. You rolled your eyes,

"Let me guess. He must've taken the treasure and run off, didn't he? He must have immortality and the greatest glory to ever exist." You seethed, crossing your arms.

"What? No. Lassie, he left you a little note before venturing off on his own to Tortuga. He's entrusted you to be Captain of the ship for the time being." Gibbs exclaimed, holding a note for you to see, "There's more to this whole shenanigan than just immortality. Apparently both your bloods were combined at the cave... meaning you both are one soul. He's gone off to search for more clues. In the meantime he wants you to rest. He seemed rather worried when we were fixing you up, and kept asking questions as to if you'd be alright or not."

Your mouth slightly parted at Gibbs' words, completely in disbelief. "He was probably making sure I was alright to ensure he'd get his share of the treasure."

"Oh, it was more than that, love," Gibbs winked at you, "I'm sure of it. I've never seen Jack like that around any other woman. Now, enough with me rambling, get your rest. You'll be having lots of more adventures with Jack Sparrow soon."

And with that, he left you with the note and you couldn't help but somehow feel your mind slowly consider Jack Sparrow as more than a thief, more than an acquaintance... and certainly more than a friend.

[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…”

[leafatlaw]

Its just, me and my comfort mid-2000s sitcom against the world