#i fucking loathe ads will all my being

[fantasiac]

and you can guarantee that the ads they would put in would have little to no quality control, letting random people send in the most mind-rotting, disgusting, dangerous ads on the whole damn planet, ads that genuinely hurt the product as more people would avoid it because of the evil marketing, and they'd definitely be targeted towards children as "video games are for children" so it'd be awful shit like this;

imagine having a life-changing experience watching Arthur Morgan die at the hands of the people he loved his whole life, only for it to be interrupted by ads for games that don't even exist, or something that dances around age restriction.

and you can be certain that adblockers just wouldn't work, so I can't even run to UBlock Origin after nearly having a seizure bc of a cool Live Wallpaper App (THAT STILL HASN'T BEEN TAKEN DOWN DESPITE ME REPORTING IT)

[delespresso]

DETESTATION ━━ Fiyero x fem!reader

author's note; this was previously titled 'kiss me' lol. i cant lie, i was sort of just winging it with this one — i've been doing a lot of rivals to lovers u guys, my brain is a little confused now 😭 idk if i liked this but i hope its good! <3

prompt; “You can’t just…kiss me to win a fucking argument, [NAME]!” “You’re right…but did it work?” ps; i changed it up a bit, oops

summary; the constant back and forth was totally out of total detestation. . . right?

━━ ☄. *. ⋆

It was the third invite to the Ozdust Ballroom within the month.

Ever since the Winkie Prince showed up at Shiz a few months back, he's been influencing quite a few trips to the scandalocious venue. In fact — he started it immediately on his first day.

She didn't plan on going this time either. Even if the invite had come directly from him, while he was following her tail all over campus.

"C'mon, princess, it'll be fun," Fiyero urged as he walked behind her like a little puppy.

Typically, she refused to even be in his vicinity. With her luck though, somehow Doctor Dillamond decided he needed a tutor to push him through history class — so of course, she was chosen, being the current top student.

"Think of it as me thanking you for helping me ace history," Fiyero continued.

He did, in fact, ace his history after that. A whole A solid.

"For the millionth time, Fiyero, no," she huffed.

He rolled his eyes at another rejection, still following her as they found their way into the dining hall. It was sparse at the moment, they were quite early this time.

"Your welcome for history. But that's it," she added.

She grabbed a tray, starting to put food on it. As she did though, the infuriatingly charming — and annoying — prince stole a piece right out of her plate.

"You should learn to live a little. See the nightlife. Go dancing. We don't live forever, you know?"

She stared up at him as he just went on his little ramble about life.

"If you're worried about a dance partner—"

"I really don't care—"

"I'm sure Boq is very kind to help in that," Fiyero said with a sly smirk.

Respectfully, Boq was nice and cute in a way, but she would much rather drink a tub of toxic elixir.

She could only scoff in response, picking up her tray and finding a seat. Still he refused to let up.

"One night. Its just one night, it really won't kill you," Fiyero insisted.

"It won't, but I might kill you."

She set her tray down with a huff, but she didn't get the chance to sit yet before he was pestering her again.

"I've lived quite well, I wouldn't mind dying at your hands," he shrugged.

"Are you serious right now?" she scoffed. "I have a fork and knife an inch away from my hands, don't tempt me."

"Oh, how horrifying," he mock gasped.

Oh, this little—

"Truthfully, I find a death by my history tutor to be a beautiful exit," he continued with a smug grin.

"You have no sense of self preservation. My hands would be a painful way to die," she retorted.

He didn't miss a beat, grabbing her hands in his in such an oddly gentle manner that had her brain crashing for a moment.

"These soft hands? I find that hard to believe."

She blinked rapidly, just staring at the way he held her hands to his chest for no reason. Why was her head spinning? Why was her pulse rushing?

"You're infuriating," she managed to hiss as she pulled her hands away.

Really, she had no idea why this man annoyed her so much. She felt an irrational amount of irritation when he was around. Her head would sometimes go empty when she looked at him, her heart suddenly going too fast and her stomach feeling like it was floating.

Dislike. Pure, utter, dislike. Loathing, perhaps. Detestation.

Those were the only acceptable answers.

She ended up taking her lunch to go, bringing it with her to eat somewhere else where she could escape him.

"Come dancing tonight!" he tried again even as she stomped away from him and replied over without turning back.

"Eat grass!"

It was her roommate that dragged her to the Ozdust Ballroom that night. No one else.

Certainly not the persistent, annoyingly handsome prince. No.

She allowed herself to have fun for a while, dancing around with her roommate. She didn't catch a single glimpse of him so she assumed he bailed.

She would be absolutely wrong when she ended up twirling right into his arms.

Fiyero's hands were on her waist, keeping her right there as her hands ended up on his biceps. He grinned down at her, that casual and laidback smile he always had.

"You came."

"Not because of you."

He chuckled at her quick defensiveness. It was cute to him. Taking her hand, he gave her a quick whirl before pulling her close again.

"Of course not," he agreed.

"Plenty of other reasons to come to a party," she nodded.

"Mhm."

"Nice ambience, people in nice outfits," she started to list aimlessly.

"Yes, they do dress up nice," he continued to agree.

"Good music, exceptional dancing—"

"You dance well."

"Random excuse to dress myself up too—"

"You look lovely."

"The lights are quite nice too, all blueish—"

She didn't get the chance to keep yapping when suddenly a pair of warm lips were on hers. It felt like she was on fire. A good kind of fire. When she opened her eyes again and their lips parted, she met his gaze under the lights.

Her lips were parted, her breath catching. Her face was definitely flushing and Oz— her head was reeling. She was too flustered she ended up fumbling her words.

"You can't just kiss me to win an argument, Fiyero!"

He laughed at her reaction. In hindsight, he should've probably not do it out of nowhere. But her reaction was priceless.

"Yeah, probably not. But it shut you up," he mused.

She stared up at him, eyes wide as she was clearly baffled.

"You need to stop finding excuses, princess," he teased, giving her yet another whirl.

Her dress flared out before she ended up back with him, flush against his chest. Whatever she felt for him was strong. Though she was starting to suspect it wasn't actually detestation.

She'd likely been in denial.

"You need to not kiss someone without permission," she retorted anyway.

Fiyero only smiled, but at least he nodded sincerely with a bit of a shrug.

"Fair enough. Sorry," he agreed. "Can I have a redo?"

She raised a single brow up at him, this time catching up with the dance way better than when she initially ended up in his arms. A coy, almost teasing smile pulled on her lips as she casually ended up leading the dance.

"Let's see your dancing first, Winkie Prince."

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[heirofnight]

between you & i

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 2.5k

summary: reader departs on a solo intel mission after ignoring azriel's warnings of danger. reader ends up captured, and guess who ends up coming to her rescue? you guessed it, a pissed off az. enemies to lovers. reader and az do not like each other. yum.

warnings: talk of injuries, being captured, abuse, minor self-deprecation.

you currently found yourself in a bit of a ... precarious situation. to say the least.

your sweat-dampened hair was matted to the sides of your cheeks, your forehead.

holy gods, was it fucking hot in here.

you pressed the back of your head against the stone wall behind you, hoping that the cool brick would offer some reprieve against the sweltering heat.

oh yeah, by the way, the stone wall that you were sat against belonged to a cell. a cell that you were definitely, undoubtedly, locked inside of.

your wrists were bound in chains, your arms bunched behind you haphazardly. this really, really fucking sucked. rhysand would be so pissed.

you huffed out a breath, eyes cast towards the ceiling that was covered in vines, weeds, and moss. you zoned out, reflecting on the happenings that consequently landed you here.

"are you absolutely sure that you'd rather travel alone, y/n?," rhysand had questioned you the evening prior, expression littered with apprehension and hesitation.

you'd rolled your eyes at his protective concern, a smirk playing on your lips.

"rhys, it's a singular little mission to the autumn court," you'd countered, "i'll be back in what - two, three days?," you'd continued, flicking strands of hair over your shoulders. you were hardly concerned - after all, you'd collected intel for rhysand countless times, and you'd always walked away unscathed.

you were a scholar, and this was a huge part of your job within the night court - the chance of running into trouble was slim-to-none. your task involved meeting eris within the outskirts of his territory, collecting confidential information on the inner-political developments occurring within the crisp autumn court for rhys. easy, peasy.

something you could have done blindfolded, hands tied.

which, now, considering your current circumstances, that part had literally come to fruition.

azriel had stood in utter stoicism next to the head of rhys' polished mahogany desk, brows cinched together, eyes hard.

"no, it's unwise," he'd uttered, voice cold and deep - the first words he'd spoken since you'd arrived for your mission debrief.

you and azriel were - well, complicated. while you didn't absolutely loathe each other, there was this very prominent undertone of thick, suffocating tension that had formed a barrier between the both of you. you'd both opted to tread lightly each other - civil when necessary, silent and aloof otherwise.

he'd never really seemed to give much of a shit about you, so this outburst was unlike him.

his words caused you to sit up infinitesimally straighter, eyes locked on his strong frame from across the room.

"and why's that?," you'd questioned, voice sounding bored, dismissive of his opinion.

"too much unrest across his lands as of late," he offered, shifting within his boots just slightly, "we aren't entirely sure who, or what, is patrolling that area. it's dangerous, i should accompany you," he'd finished, sounding as though he'd already made his mind up.

you'd scoffed at the suggestion, standing with the intention of taking your leave before azriel was able to convince rhys any differently.

"no, thank you, shadowsinger," you'd waved a hand in dismissal, waltzing towards the large, wooden double doors of the office.

"i don't need to be coddled, i think i can manage on my own just fine," you'd added, back turned to the two males.

it was azriel's turn to scoff in exasperation, and although you couldn't see him, you could hear his wings rustle in irritation. the thought made you smirk to yourself, reveling in the idea of getting a rise out of the normally impassive spy.

"now, y/n,-," rhys began, his voice laced with consideration.

"i'll see the both of you in a few days," you'd cut him off, letting the door shut behind you with a resounding thud, the sound echoing down the stone halls.

and that was that. you'd decided to depart first thing this morning, hoping to avoid either one of the busybody males just in case rhys had commanded azriel to travel with you, after all.

you rolled your eyes, shuffling slightly against the cell floor as you thought of the verbal lashing you'd receive once you got back to velaris.

azriel would probably be present while rhysand berated you for this catastrophic mistake, and if you thought hard enough, you could just picture the smug smirk that would more than likely be adorning his polished features. az would be enjoying the fact that he was correct, sunbathing himself in your downfall, your failure.

the thought filled you with so much rage, so much embarrassment. it caused your skin to flush and grow even hotter, which was a feat in itself since you didn't think it was possible for the stifling heat to get worse.

you'd been captured by a lone group of autumn court rebels, who'd just happened to be traveling along the exact same path you'd taken to meet eris. you weren't sure what their plans were for you - a night court female. they knew who you were, they knew you were employed with rhys. if you had to guess, they were holding you hostage to use as some sort of bargaining chip.

regardless, it'd been twelve hours since you'd been tossed into this cell. you had not the slightest clue where you even were in relation to the court itself. you'd been blindfolded and jostled about, and your sense of direction had been destroyed in the process.

you were so, so thirsty. your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth, throat dry enough that it felt like you'd ingested hot coals each time you struggled to swallow.

you were nervous, yes. on edge. your feathers were ruffled. but you knew eris would report your absence to rhysand. it was only a matter of time before someone found you. and when they did, you'd be reprimanded endlessly. you'd probably never hear the end of it - never be allowed to depart on solo missions again. you'd probably be stuck with azriel, that self-righteous, arrogant -

your thoughts came to a screeching halt once you noticed that the cell had become dark. it was mid-afternoon, and barred holes in the wall had been allowing the afternoon light to filter into the small space. which honestly, with this heat, felt like an additional form of torture.

but now, a chill filled the darkened air. no light filtered through - not even a pin-prick of luminance could be accounted for. you couldn't see inches ahead of you. your spine straightened, your head perked up. and before you could make heads or tails of the odd infiltrating darkness, it had dissipated entirely.

you blinked several times, weary, exhausted eyes struggling to acclimate to the warm light.

but once you'd righted yourself, you saw it. saw him.

azriel stood before you, half of his body swathed in swirling shadows. his arms were folded across his chest, eyes narrowed in distaste as he took in the sight of you - battered, bruised, filthy, restrained. his wings rustled several times before pulling tightly into his back, clearly agitated.

his jaw ticked in anger, and he dropped his head to avert his gaze to the cell floor at his feet. his muscles flexed with tension, and he was pissed.

and while you assumed the anger was directed at you, at your stupidity, azriel was biting back the urge to level the entire autumn court for what those males had done to you.

you swallowed hard, throat burning from the action. you opted to not speak, fully understanding how monumental this fuck-up was. you hadn't even departed velaris with a weapon strapped to your body, completely void of protection. so, so stupid.

"how could you be so foolish," azriel sneered, his arms dropping to his sides, clenched fists flexing. his voice was so low, so cold, you'd finally understood how he was able to intimidate his victims to the point of broken resolve.

you looked down, ashamed, embarrassed.

"i didn't-," you started, voice hoarse.

azriel huffed angrily at the sound of it.

"no, you didn't," he cut you off, stepping towards you with a leveled thump of his boots. "you didn't," he continued, tone laced with contempt.

"you didn't think. you didn't consider how dangerous-," he paused, having to take a deep, steady breath to compose himself.

you continued staring at the floor, anywhere but him. you definitely didn't dare look at his face, his eyes as they bore into you.

"look at me," he commanded, voice growing harsh.

you averted your gaze from the floor, choosing to stare at the bright, barred window that was cut into the upper left wall instead.

"y/n," he growled, stooping down to your level to grab your chin between his thumb and pointer fingers. his grip wasn't harsh - probably due to him being careful of exacerbating any potential injuries - but it was demanding. "look at me," he repeated.

you caved, meeting his hard hazel eyes with hesitation. you tried your damndest to look as unfazed and unwavering as possible - as though being captured and beaten hadn't taken a toll on you. but when you met his familiar face, took in his features and realized you were being saved, you faltered. relief flooded your veins, overflowing until it reached your softening eyes.

unshed tears began to well up, and you used every ounce of willpower that you had left to not allow them to fall.

azriel's expression became tender as he took you in, as he studied your expression. he saw your bruises and scrapes up close now, and he dropped his head once more, shoulders drooping slightly.

"you could have gotten yourself killed," he croaked, anger still lacing his words.

"so, what," you deadpanned, voice rasping, "then you would have been right, about me - about this mission. about how foolishly incapable i am," you said solemnly, jerking your chin from his unfaltering grip.

he snapped his head upward, meeting your eyes immediately. his brows cinched, and you momentarily observed the splattering of freckles across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose - you'd never noticed them before, had never been this close to him.

he blinked once, twice - his long, thick lashes whispering across his skin as he did so.

"that's what you think this is about?," he questioned, voice breathless in disbelief.

you scoffed weakly, pushing yourself up further against the damp wall behind you.

"please, azriel. you've never been subtle about how incompetent you find me," your voice coated in disdain.

he let out a slow breath, shaking his head as he absorbed your words.

"no, y/n," he grunted, his hands moving forward to begin working at the cuffs around your wrists. you'd both needed to get the hell out of here, urgently. it had been hours since you'd last seen your captors, and you were both painfully aware of the likelihood that they'd return.

could azriel singlehandedly fight off an entire hoard of rebels? absolutely. did he want to dismember and mutilate the males that did this to you? abso-fucking-lutely. but more than that, he wanted to get you home, safe, and with madra.

you hissed as he began to work his deft hands around the harsh chains. they'd been pulled so tightly to your skin, that you'd already come to terms with the possibility of losing circulation to the limbs.

his eyes flickered up to your face at the sound of your discomfort, and he winced at the realization of causing you further pain.

"i've never thought that you were incompetent," he continued as he worked, using his words to distract you from the pain he was inflicting, "hotheaded? yes, confident to a fault? sometimes," he continued, and you scoffed at his jabs.

"azriel, just shut the fu-," you blurted, his words bristling your already raw skin.

"but," he cut you off, continuing on with his tangent, "you are also strong, brave - obviously. loyal to your court, to rhys," he went on, pausing for a moment, "and i've always admired you," he finished, voice lowering.

you went silent, considering his words. you became painfully aware of his close proximity, of his hands against your swollen wrists as he fought to free you.

his eyes flitted to your softening expression, gauging your reaction to his words.

and internally, you were realizing for the first time, that maybe you and azriel were more alike than you'd initially thought.

he finally freed your hands, and you groaned at the relief, at the blood rushing down to the stiff limbs.

he helped you gently, bringing your arms back to the front of your exhausted frame. you closed your eyes for a moment, taking deep, even breaths at the feeling of being free, being saved. by azriel.

"how did you know where to find me?," you croaked, peeking one eye open to look up at the male before you. he was crouched closer to you now, poised to catch you if you careened over.

"eris relayed the information to rhys - the general whereabouts of your planned meeting location," he began, eyes flicking over your entire body to scan for any other injuries.

"and rhysand sent you to track me down?," you questioned, assuming that it was a command from his high lord - a decision he didn't make.

"i didn't give him the chance to," he offered, swallowing thickly, "i was at autumn's border before eris finished his report," he cleared his throat, cheeks tinting the slightest shade of pink.

there was a slight pause.

"he didn't have a choice," he spoke, voice deep and gravelly. he met your eyes with that last statement, as if to make a point.

you sat up slightly, reeling with the words azriel had spoken. they blanketed the both of you, sitting heavy against your chest.

azriel had chosen to track you down, to save you? not only that, but it seemed like it was almost second nature for him. to seek you out, to rescue you.

you opened and closed your mouth several times, looking for the right words. nothing you'd come up with was good enough.

"let's get you home," he said softly, reaching under your limp frame to hoist you into his strong arms. you whined quietly, your body rebuking the movement.

"i know," he soothed, bracing you against his chest.

and then you were both wrapped in endless shadows and night.

cradled against your tall, strong salvation.

things had irrevocably changed between you and azriel after that. you'd both known it.

and sure enough, from that day onward, he was your chosen partner on every mission you'd decide to embark on. and azriel had insisted the same.

choosing each other, time and time again.

and sometimes, when you'd both inevitably need to stop for the evening - finding reprieve in a shoddy inn after a grueling travel day, azriel would request a room with just one bed.

and what happened under the covers on those evenings - when your body would melt into his, his forehead pressed against yours, explorative hands learning each other -

well, that was just between the both of you.

a/n: another one shot that just demanded to be written immediately. brought on by scrolling on tiktok lmao. hope u loved it! let me know your thoughts <3

[n0cturnalp1g]

Tale As Old as Time

Summary: Prince Daemon Targaryen hated everyone and anyone that has the name Hightower in it. But there was an exception to it, the oldest sister of Alicent and Gwayne Hightower, the Wretched Hightower as she was infamously known for. But Daemon was on a mission to ensure she will be called by any other name–even if it means putting his own as a result. Characters: Daemon Targaryen x Female!Reader!Hightower. Otto Hightower. Alicent Hightower. Viserys Targaryen. Word Count: 1,360 Chapter Warnings: Not Edited. Slight Profanities. Otto being Otto. Author's Note: Enemies to Lovers anyone?

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Prince Daemon Targaryen knew how much of a cunt Otto Hightower was. It goes for Alicent and Gwayne too. But somehow, such disdain and loathing cannot be said about you. His exception as he fondly calls you.

You were known as the Wretched Hightower that did not stay long in Oldtown for causing far too much destruction and the only way for your father to ever control you was if you were close to him–or rather have the Kingsguard and even the City Watch constantly under surveillance of you.

Hence, this was the very reason why Daemon was so fond of you. How even his most skilled City Watch or even the Kingsguard themselves was no match to your resourcefulness and how easy it was to evade each and every single one of them at night as you spent your nights in Fleabottom, away from the constant control of the Keep.

“Here you are again, it seems.”

Daemon looked at you, defiance all too evident in your eyes as you looked right at him. One too many run-ins with each other, the surprise has finally worn off your face every single time he catches you strolling around. But never once did the dagger in your grasp ease away in the numerous instances of seeing you.

“I’m sure at this point you are just following me, Your Grace.” You spoke, no sense of decorum or politeness unlike your sister. You were very much a woman with a mind of your own not controlled by your father.

“I am simply doing my job. Somehow, my patrolling the safety of King’s Landing also has an additional responsibility of making sure the Wretched Hightower does not cause a scene.”

At the mention of the moniker, your eyes darken and your knuckles turned white as your grip on your dagger tightened. If he pushes you further, there might even be a chance you might make use of it–on him more specifically.

“I apologize for adding to your responsibilities, Lord of Flea Bottom.” You curtsied mockingly in front of him to earn a huge grin on his mouth. He loved this, you play as hard as he does, every single time, you will not let anyone else win if you had a chance. Never one to allow anyone else to have the last word.

But the Rogue Prince wasn’t known for his patience, more known for his pettiness.

With a nod, he moved quicker than you anticipated and you were lifted into his arms before moving until you were now on his shoulder. An annoyed scream escaped your lips, your dagger was taken before you could make use of it.

“Let go of me you stupid fucking lizard!”

“My, does your father not teach you manners, or respect?” He teased as he began his journey back to the Keep, anticipating what that Cunt Otto would do now. “I could even cite you for attempted regicide.”

“I don’t give a damn about your laws, Targaryen! Let go of me!” You continued to scream, your fist hitting his armored back. He was genuinely surprised by how unmoved you were by the metal he wore–but then again anger and spite was the best remedy for pain but he was all the more certain you will be feeling the damage was all was said and done.

“I’m sure your father would love to hear you and your opinions of the law in the Seven realms.” He chuckled, ignoring the eyes that had now come glued to all of them.

He ensured even in your already embarrassing state, you were decent. The hand holding onto your dagger also ensured your skirt did not show more than you intended to.

“Make sure you rest well, the next time I see you I’ll make sure to slit your throat and bathe in your blood.”

“A woman after my own heart.” Daemon continued to point out with a wicked grin as he walked further away from the chaos of Fleabottom. “I can only hope you still have that fire when we return to the Keep, Lady Hightower.”

Daemon only knew what your father would think of this situation, more so when he was once again responsible for taking you back without harm on a single hair on your pretty little head.

“You continue to bring shame upon the family name, you insolent brat!”

You have been so used to your father’s scolding, but the only difference with this time was the fact that he wasn’t alone. Daemon Targaryen had made a spectacle out of you, bringing you into the throne room in front where your father, the King’s Hand stood, arms crossed and veins on the brink of popping.

In the throne room also resided a few key figures in the parading embarrassment that was Daemon’s own making.

The King himself, amused as much as he was tired of your antics sat on the throne, the grin openly evident on his face but no one was to question him for his emotions for he was afterall the King.

Your younger sister and the King’s wife, Alicent, was also present. Ever the lapdog of your father was also disappointed in you as you strived for your own freedom–something she did not have since agreeing to marry the King.

Then there was the man that was responsible for your predicament. Prince Daemon Targaryen. A smirk all the more evident on his face, victorious for one upping you in this imaginary war you somehow waged with the Rogue Prince since your nightly escape.

“Are you done, father?” You inquired.

“This is the reason why I should have married you to that Lord in the south!” Otto continued, voice growing louder now.  “I can’t control you, your Uncle could not control you, your husband might control you as he should!”

You scoffed. You knew as much as he did that there was no Lord in the south. His first plan of many was for you to marry the King the first moment that the late Queen was burned in the Hill of Rhaenys. But as Wretched as you were known in the realm, you still had common decency. You will never marry a mourning man who lost his wife and child for the sake of a better standing for the family. The same could not be said about your younger sister, now married and now carrying her second child with the King.

“I’d rather be a Septa than marry a man that will never keep up with me, Lord Hand.” You spat.

You glared at the chuckle that escaped the Rogue Prince’s lips.

“I think there will be a much better way to handle this dispute, Lord Hand.” King Viserys pointed out, the fun of the situation now gone and it left nothing more than a family dispute that he should not be a part of.

“Nothing could control her, no Kingsguard nor City Watch can tame her, and I am having second thoughts of throwing her into sept instead.”

You rolled your eyes. He never truly cared about you, your brother, or your sister. It was always like this with him. If he finds no use out of you, he will throw you out like a used toy. It was a cycle that you were all the more familiar with. Lived through it for years, long before either Alicent or Gwayne was born.

“Perhaps I could be of assistance.” Daemon began.

All heads turned to the man, your heart lurched from your chest as if already having an idea of what he had in mind. The games this bastard was playing.

“I am in need of a new wife…as you may all know Lady Rhea Royce has recently passed and our union did not bless us with any children.” He continued as the grin on his lips grew wider, all the more seeing his brother, the King convinced with the idea.

“No!” For once you and your father was in agreement with something, who would have ever thought it would be to oppose a man you had both equally despised–but for reasons far different from one another. 

[lovelytsunoda]

you've got me under your spell | eddie brock and venom

summary: the then's and now's of halloween in the brock household

pairing: eddie brock x wife!reader (and their son!) x venom

warnings: i've turned eddie brock from a swagless loser to a dilf, venom is loaned to a child as a halloween costume, venom is almost like a second child tbh, implied smut, brief mentions of mental illness and pregnancy-related mental health issues. not to spoil anything at the end but the final section is pretty fucking funny if i do say so myself.

author's note: i have a very delayed last minute addition to my halloween fics for 2024! after flying through all three venom movies in about two days (as someone who doesn't watch marvel movies, might i add), i am pleased (and a little concerned) to annoucne that eddie brock is now my favourite marvel character.

yes, dylan brock is a canon character in the venom comics (or so i have been told) but all this dylan had in common with the canon version is his name.

2010.

she watched fondly from the doorway as eddie picked up the infant, who was currently trying to crawl towards the white pumpkin in the bay window. dylan laughed in his father's arms as eddie spun around before cradling the infant against his chest. he caught his wife's eyes from the doorway, a cheeky grin on his face as he looked down at dylan.

"hey kiddo, i think mommy's looking at us."

dylan smiled, wide and toothless, letting out the baby equivalent of a cheer as he looked over at his mother.

"are you guys ready to make the rounds? i promised mrs. chen some baby time." y/n laughed, reaching out to hold her son's small hand in hers.

the streets outside were lit up with fog machines and smiling skeletons, filled with the sounds of kids milling about. it was baby brock's first halloween, and he was dressed appropriately for it in his little pumpkin costume. after attempting to suck on y/n's finger, dylan dropped her hand and busied himself with attempting to trace the tattoos visible on eddie's forearm.

eddie beamed, kissing his wife softly before answering. "we're ready if you are. lead the way, mamas."

y/n had never pictured herself as a mother. in her twenties, when it seemed like settling down was the only thing people her age wanted to do, she was paralyzed with fear, insecurity and a little bit of self-loathing. being inside of her head was a nightmare, and she wasn't even sure she'd make it to thirty.

things had started to change when she met eddie brock.

slowly, she came alive again. she started to want things that she had thought were out of reach. she wanted to get married, have that house and that family and the white picket fence. to know that everything she had done had added up to this moment, and that everything had been worth it.

but she hated being pregnant. for her, growing another human being had been an arduous, terrifying experience. the eight hours of labour she had gone through on the day dylan was born was enough for her to decide that she didn't want more kids, and that she could still have the family she dreamed of with only one child.

she kissed dylan's forehead softly, brushing back his thin baby hair before tucking the small pumpkin hat onto his little head, and over his small ears.

the couple walked down the front steps of their bungalow, one of eddies arms around his wife, and the other holding his son (which was quite the feat, considering that the infant so desperately wanted out of his father's arms. dylan was an active baby, but he was allowed to crawl down the residential street, he would do so at such a pace that the brocks would never get him back.)

at every house they went to there was someone to coo over the littlest brock. eventually, eddie had to drop that arm around his wife so that he could use both hands to hold his son. dylan smiled that wide, gummy smile and laughed and babbled at all of the people that they passed, y/n clutching an almost-full orange bag of candy (she was convinced that some of their neighbours gave out extra candy to the couple, simply to reward them with the hit of caffeine found in chocolate that the new parents would so crave).

as they walked towards mrs. chen's house, dylan finally settled in his fathers arms, eddie looked over at his wife with nothing but reverence and love in his eyes. even carrying a little bit of extra weight around her hips and stomach, her breasts a little fuller and her arms a little chubbier, she was as radiant as she was the day that they got married. he would do anything for her, for his son. his little family.

"eddie, darling." she laughed, turning to face him. "you're staring."

eddie blushed, the rose in his cheeks barely visible in the dark. "uh, no i'm not."

"yes you are." she giggled. "i love you, eddie brock."

"i love you more." eddie beamed, leaning over to kiss her. "i think the little guy is worn out." he spoke softly, nodding towards the baby in his arms. "he's asleep."

"awe." y/n cooed, gently stroking her son's arm with her pointer finger. the sight of eddie holding their son in his arms would never grow old. she was starting a folder of pictures on her laptop of this very thing, as she knew dylan would soon be too big for his father to hold. "he's just like his father. he can go to sleep any time, any where and in any condition."

eddie laughed. "i feel like there was an insult buried in there somewhere."

"i still married you, didn't i?"

2024.

"dylan, if you want to get to eric's on time, you've gotta get going now! his mom's on the way!"

y/n knocked on her son's door, waiting until she heard the disgruntled teenage groan from the other side. satisfied that dylan had been served enough warning, she headed back out into the living room.

she had put eddie in charge of moving the halloween candy from the massive carboard costco boxes to the festive plastic bowls, and he was doing a surprisingly okay job at it.

their life had changed drastically in the years since her husband had begun to share his body with a symbiote. the symbiote had once given dylan nightmares, and she had fielded one too many concerned calls from the school after he had gone around and told all of the other kids that his father was an alien and would eat anybody who was mean to him (although, once eddie and venom had bonded, venom was steadfast in his commitment to eating any bullies that dylan may face) it had taken time, and a lot of home repairs to get used to, but alas, venom now felt like one of the family.

well, more like the cousin you don't want any of your friends to meet. or the alien that your husband is in a strangely homeorotic relationship with.

"i thought venom would have eaten half of those by now." she remarked, leaning over the back of the sofa to rest her head on her husband's shoulder, hands on his chest.

"i made him promise to behave today. i don't want him scaring the little kids." eddie shrugged, turning his had to kiss his wife softly.

"what did you have to give him?"

eddie paused, waiting a beat in order to formulate an answer that wouldn't send his wife into a spiral. in the distance, he heard dylan's bedroom door open and close, and then the fourteen-year-old came bounding into the living room.

"eric's mom is like five minutes away. is it okay if i wait outside?"

keeping her hands on eddie shoulders, y/n straightened, looking over at her son. "no costume?'

she didn't miss the way that eddie's muscles tensed up under her hands, or the way dylan's pinkie finger twitched. neither of them said a word, and when her eyes zeroed in on the full boxes of nestle chocolates, she got her answer.

"edward brock, please tell me that you did not lend your symbiote to our son as a halloween costume!"

dylan's shoulder rippled black over the top of his hunter-green sweatshirt, venom's inky head materializing next to a defeated looking dylan.

"okay, we won't tell you." the symbiote said , turning to face eddie. "you told me that this was okay with mrs. b."

eddie got up from the couch, pointing a finger at the symbiote. "i said no such thing. i said we were never supposed to tell y/n under any circumstances."

"mom, it's only for the night. you let dad have venom year-round!" dylan protested, stuffing his hands in his sweater pockets. "how is this any different?"

y/n stopped and counted to twenty, eyes closed before she breathed deeply and opened them again.

"that's because your father is the one who brought venom into this house in the first place, and i didn't get a say in the matter. also, your father is an adult, and venom actually listens to him."

"i listen to nobody!"

eddie coughed. "actually, he doesn't listen to me at all. he does what he wants half of the time."

"not the point, eddie! hosting venom almost killed you."

"actually- "

"not now vee!" eddie and y/n shouted together.

eddie reached for his wife's hand, knowing that she needed something to ground her, something tangible that she could hold on to. his hand was warm and calloused, comforting. she ran her thumb over eddie's knuckles as he stepped closer, dropping his voice in the hopes that dylan and venom wouldn't be able to eavesdrop.

"y/n, you know that i wouldn't let dylan take venom out if i didn't think he could handle it. its just one night."

"eddie, venom eats people. i don't want to get calls from parents stating that their sons hung out with my son, and then they came back headless."

"he has sworn to be on his best behavior tonight." eddie insisted. "and besides, when was the last time we had a night that was just the two of us? no dylan, no venom."

she paused, trying to think, the calm was starting to ease back into her body, the initial panic subsiding. her husband was right, she knew. while nights without dylan had become more common the older he got, with the boy staying over at friend's houses or going out late with his buddies, having a husband who hosted an alien sometimes put a damper on date night.

for the past five years, she had felt like she was in a never-ending threesome. don't get her wrong, the sex was absolutely phenomenal, but she missed her husband. she missed the days when it was just the two of them, curled up in bed on a sunday afternoon, with reruns of a bad sitcom playing in the background as they made love without a care in the world.

she realized that she was excited at the idea of having sex with her husband without an alien tentacle trying to slip into her ass (which felt absolutely incredible, by the way. after the first time venom did that, she downloaded all the monsterfucking books she could find on kindle unlimited. trying to explain the plot of ice planet barbarians to eddie had been quite the spectacle).

a honk in the front driveway snapped her out of her thoughts. dylan was looking at her expectantly, venom's head still hovering in the air next to him. if it were possible for symbiotes to give puppy dog eyes, she was sure that venom would be doing so. she looked at eddie, and then back at dylan, weighing her options.

"fine. dylan, you can take venom with you."

venom and dylan gave a cheer, the teen high-fiving one of venom's slinky tentacles.

"i promise not to eat any of the children, mrs. b. only gourmet chocolate. dylan says tonight is the best night for it."

"go on." y/n laughed. "don't keep eric waiting. and be careful!"

eddie and y/n stood by the front window, eddie's hand in her back pocket as they watched dylan run down the driveway and jump into the back of eric's mom's nissan. he had grown up so fast. it felt like just yesterday he was an infant in a pumpkin costume, cradled in eddie's strong arms. now he was almost as tall as his father.

y/n let out a small yelp as she felt herself become weightless, her husband's strong, beefy arms wrapped around her thighs.

"baby, be careful! you aren't as strong without venom! i don't want you to hurt your back!"

"i'll be fine! we have a heating pad for a reason!"

the headed down the hallway in a cloud of giggles, eddie kicking the bedroom door closed behind them with a cheeky grin on his face.

oh yeah, they were going to enjoy every second of having the house to themselves.

____

it was nearing midnight when dylan brock came home, shocked to find his father in the living room, sitting on the sofa in the dark and wincing every time he moved.

"dad? what are you doing? where's mom?"

eddie groaned, trying not to move too much. the heating pad rested against his lower back, and any movement sent a sharp pain up his spine. "she's asleep. tired out."

dylan made a face, dropping his backpack next to the couch. "god damn it, dad! i don't need to know that!"

eddie chuckled. "not like that." well, sort of like that. "this week has been hard on her. between you, me and venom, she's got her hands full."

"what's the heating pad for?" dylan crossed his arms over his chest, staring his father down.

"i hurt my back. it's nothing, not important."

"oh my god! you hurt your back banging mom!"

"dylan, keep your voice down! your mother is sleeping!" eddie scolded, screwing his eyes shut. "and she doesn't know. there is nothing less sexy than pinching something in your back while-"

"stop. please. i don't want to know."

"anyways, i waited until she fell asleep to put some muscle spray on it, and that didn't help, so here i am with the heating pad. how was your night?"

"it was good. venom's fun. we went trick-or-treating around eric's neigbourhood, where all the fancy houses are. also, i think i know what possum brain tastes like." dylan scrunched up his face. "venom decided he'd eaten enough snickers bars."

"snickers are for the weak." venom grunted. "real men eat brains."

eddie laughed. "now you know what the inside of my head is like. at least venom didn't try to eat any people. i wish i never knew what grey matter tasted like."

dylan extended his hand. "it's been fun, but i think he wants his host back."

eddie took dylan's hand in his, inhaling as he felt venom fill his veins once more, the familiar voice he'd come to tolerate returning to the back of his mind. slowly, the stinging pain in his lower back started to subside, the symbiote healing him from the inside out.

"thanks buddy. i needed that." he sighed. "and thanks for looking after dylan."

"no problem, eddie. you know, you'd get hurt less around the house if you stopped doing silly things when i'm not here."

"hey dylan, do you want the symbiote back?"

dylan laughed, heading to his room. "not a chance, dad. you're the only person in the world who could handle him."

[draconic-desire]

Ad Experimentum

Yandere Dr. Ratio x Reader

Veritas catches you reading one of your dirty books.

Warnings: Implied kidnapping, forced imprisonment, NSFW scenes being read aloud, Dr. Ratio being a dick as always

Within the confines of Veritas’s home, you feel like a mouse in a maze, reduced to a caged animal, always under scrutiny and experimentation.

Escape is impossible. Dr. Ratio has ensured that you’re never out of his reach, even though he acts as if you are the burden and he didn’t kidnap you and imprison you in his home. Sometimes you wonder why he even keeps you; surely he has better things to do than to quip at your inadequacy or lack of genius. But alas, the pretentious prick seems keen on pushing every one of your buttons to see how you tick. You might even call it intimacy if he wasn’t so clinical and judgmental about it all.

Because physical escape is impossible, you’ve turned to escaping within the confines of your own mind.

Books provided the perfect retreat. You’ve since abandoned any non-fiction to focus on fantasy, to worlds that effortlessly whisk you away. Novels that depict true, romantic love, not the twisted ownership you’ve grown used to. Like you’re some pet to be controlled and prodded at, like Pavlov’s dog, waiting and drooling for its master’s hand at the ring of a bell.

So, in your hopes to feel something real, you’ve started to delve into stories that are a bit…spicier.

With the latest read in your hand, your eyes skim hungrily over the pages as the tension between the protagonists builds. The lovers begin to undress each other, the one spreading his partner’s pussy as she grinds into his hand—

Veritas effortlessly plucks the book from your hands, earning a cry of protest. You try to snatch it back, but, with the help of his towering height, he dangles it just out of reach. “What in the heavens is this?”

The way he holds the book between his thumb and pointer finger, as if merely touching it would taint his self-proclaimed perfect set of knowledge, was almost comedic. You would laugh if he wasn’t such a condescending asshole.

Instead, you scowl. “Give it back.”

He merely hums and turns the novel in his hands, inspecting the cover. Licking his thumb, he flips to your bookmarked page and begins reading aloud. “My hand caressed her core as I speared her with two, thick fingers. She moaned and arched into my palm in response, causing my cock to twitch in anticipation. God, I wanted to taste her arousal. Her pussy was perfect, so wet and tight and ready for me to claim, to fuck.”

Embarrassment rages across your cheeks like a burn. You fling yourself at him, pounding your fists against his chest when he lifts the book out of your reach easily. “Stop, just stop.”

Amused, Dr. Ratio continues to narrate the scene in painstaking detail. “I lowered my head, letting my tongue swirl around her clit and rendering her voice to nothing but pitiful mewls. She tasted like heaven, like my own personal feast. I buried my tongue in her, then, and held her hips as she bucked into my mouth, begging for release—”

“I will do anything,” you beg, face in your palms, “just please stop.”

Finally, mercifully, Veritas closes the book and lowers it down enough for you to snatch it back. You cradle it against your chest, heart pounding and palms sweaty with a chaotic blend of shame, anger, and relief that it was over.

“This is what you indulge in while I’m working? Though you are hardly an intellectual exception, I believed you to be above this brain-rotting nonsense, (Y/n).”

In spite of your embarrassment, you boldly meet his golden eyes. “And what do you care? I enjoy it, and it’s not meant for you. Go stick your nose in a dictionary for all I care.”

“At least I’d be learning something,” he sneers in return, looking down his nose at you. He sniffs, tilting his chin up. “What do those books have that I can’t offer you?”

You still, observing his features. Now that the fun of teasing you has worn off, his eyes flare with loathing. With a jolt, you realize it is not aimed at you but at…the book?

Wordlessly, you glance between Dr. Ratio and your novel. Then, a stilted laugh escapes your lips. “Wait.. Are you seriously jealous of a book?”

“Don’t be preposterous,” he scoffs, though you notice his white-knuckled grip against the back of the armchair you were previously lounging in. “I would never stoop so low as to associate myself with that plebeian filth. I simply wanted to ascertain your reaction to it being read aloud.”

You resist the desperate urge to roll your eyes. “Fine, then. Please leave me to my uneducated filth.” You spin around, intent on finding a new place to finish your reading.

“Not so fast.” Veritas is on you quicker than a cobra, large hands gripping both your shoulders. “Perhaps all is not lost. We may yet transform this circumstance into an educational opportunity for you.”

A chill runs down your spine at the heavy touch, and a sudden sense of foreboding warns you to run. You’re all too aware you’re the mouse being fed to the snake in this moment.

Veritas spins you to face him, eyes slowly trailing down your form, as if taking you in with a new perspective. “I believe an experiment is due.”

You go rigid. “I’m sorry?”

“If you’re so intent on reading about all those fantasies in your books, let’s go ahead and put them to the test, shall we?”

At his clear implication, you yelp and make a run for it. In that moment Veritas strikes, fisting your hair with one hand and cupping your chin with the other as he presses your body flush against his own. You can already feel his hard desire digging into your back.

“Here’s my hypothesis,” he purrs in your ear. “I predict that by the end of tonight, you too will be begging for my cum, whether you want to or not.”

His theory, as always, was proven to be correct.

[vixstarria]

Intimacy

Hello friends, have some soft Act 2 Astarion.  

Astarion’s struggle with sex and intimacy. Connected with my other fics but is a standalone, per usual. 

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, soft Astarion 

Hurt/comfort, some fluff if you squint, love, angst, mutual pining, Act 2 spoilers, some fairly softcore smut 

Approximately 1,600 words. 

AO3

“I have no idea what we’re doing,” he told you. You’d replayed that conversation over and over countless times in your mind, since.  

You had no idea what you were doing either. Oh, navigating an ordinary relationship was simple enough, and you’d had your fair share of those – even if they’d all ended in disappointment at best, so far. Being with someone who’d just escaped 200 years of abuse, however... That was something new.  

“I don't think I want you to think of me in terms of sex.” 

Well that was a fuck-up. He was walking sex. ...Most likely due to sheer force of habit, so necessary for survival over all those years, but still.  

“I love you.” 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...  

You were in over your head too. Completely. Hopelessly. In love with this catastrophe of a man.  

What were you to do with him now?  

Wait for him to take the lead in every physical interaction? It wasn’t in your nature to be so passive. He knew this. And you were sure he would love to be treated like spurned glass all of a sudden.  

Continue as you were? Even though now all you could think about was whether a touch might bring up a repulsive memory? Assume that you could singlehandedly overwrite centuries of disgust and loathing, overnight? How presumptuous and overbearing that would have been. 

Communicate? Ask? Listen? Sure. Absolutely. You did. Or tried, anyway. You were about as good at talking about these things as he was. And you didn’t really trust him to be completely honest at this point. Whether with you or his own self.  

And so you explored. Slowly, cautiously and attentively.

 

The most innocent touches seemed to bring him an inordinate amount of joy. You weren’t surprised.  

Passing him a vial of poison for his weapons and letting your fingers brush and caress one another’s, briefly. Wordlessly running a stray hand along his waist and planting a quick kiss under his ear while you walked past him as he stood talking with someone. Lingering with your foreheads or noses touching lightly after a kiss.

 

He leaped at any opportunity to massage your sore muscles or help you apply a salve, and you let him. It seemed he wanted to take care of you, and was working out all the ways how.  

He still pleasured you in different ways, at times.  

“You don’t have to...” 

“I want to,” he said. 

He just chose to keep his own pants on, now. You weren’t sure about his motivations. Could it be guilt? Or a misguided sense of self-worth? Did he still think this is all he was good for? Or, maybe you were completely overthinking it, and he was still just desperately horny, even if taking a step back. He was more present than before though, you could tell that much. 

You considered his reactions to other forms of touch, careful not to make your observation obvious. 

He hated being scratched. The entire area of his back covered in scars was off-limits for anything but embraces. He enjoyed playful bites, both giving and receiving. And more than anything, he loved holding you close, feeling as much of your body at once as possible, basking in its warmth.  

In turn, you were more than happy to wrap yourself around him when you could. 

“Why do you even like this?” he asked, apprehensive about it at first. “You don’t need to pretend for my sake. I can’t give you any warmth.” 

“I can give you mine,” you said, simply. “Besides, you obviously don’t remember what it’s like to lie in a puddle of sweat with someone who runs hot. This is a nice change.” you added after a moment of contemplation.  

You meant what you said, but you were dying to drag him into a hot bath, just to know what it would feel like for him to be warmed through. Maybe you’d get the chance once you got to Baldur’s Gate.

 

There happened to be a private room available at Last Light Inn that night. The group unanimously agreed that you and Astarion would take it, while the rest of your companions bunked in the common. 

“For Shar’s sake, piss off, none of us want to see or hear you two,” were the exact words of their blessing, delivered by Shadowheart. Karlach sanctified it by throwing a (deftly dodged) half-eaten apple at Astarion’s head.  

“Especially not hear!”

 

“I know this may come as a shock, but I’m actually not too fond of beds,” he said. 

“New memories, Astarion,” you shook your head. “Beds are non-negotiable. I wasn’t too fond of rutting in the dirt either.” 

“I’ll never grow tired of how poetic you are,” he smiled, unceremoniously throwing his gear on the floor. “New memories, you say?” 

A while later, you were straddling Astarion’s hips as he sat shirtless on the edge of the bed. 

“You know, you never did tell me what you like,” you sighed, your fingers in his hair as he kissed your neck.   

“Oh, what does anyone like? It’s all the same in the end,” he said, running his hands along your thighs. 

“That’s not true,” you murmured in his ear. “I can show you some things that are pretty unique to you right now,” you said and ran the tip of your tongue along the lower inner edge of his ear, making him shudder and let out a small moan.  

“You little devil, when did you figure that out?” he breathed.  

“When I happened to brush your ear a while back, like this,” you giggled, repeating the hand movement on his other ear, making him catch his breath slightly again, “and you just about started purring.” 

He just chuckled in response. 

“So what other secrets are you hiding?” you purred, kissing around his ear. “I might just need to kiss and caress every inch of your body to find out.” 

"Sounds like a terrible chore,” he said, falling back onto the bed and pulling you with him. “You don’t want to do that.” 

“Shut up and let me cherish you.” 

You kissed down along one side his neck, slowly, taking your time, pausing to lightly lick or nibble on any spot that made him hitch his breath. He was putty in your hands by the time you reached his collarbone. 

“Just don’t go any lower,” he said breathlessly. 

You hummed your agreement. You couldn’t handle going any lower yourself – you were completely intoxicated with the scent of his skin and the sound of his sighs of pleasure, if you went any lower, you would keep going, and you didn’t think it was a day for that yet.  

You continued up the other side of his neck instead.  

You hesitated for a moment before your lips reached the bite marks left by Cazador, but Astarion made no indication that he didn’t want you to keep going, and so you continued. He let out a soft whimper as your lips brushed the scars. 

“No?” you pulled back slightly, your hot breath still on his skin. He was lying with his eyes shut, head thrown back, neck completely exposed to you. 

“Yes...” he whispered, hoarsely. “Very yes... Softly...” 

You continued, lingering with your lips on the scars, as his fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, snapping them against his own and grinding you against an unmistakable erection. 

“I want you to make those marks your own... Yours and no one else’s...” he rasped. 

This is probably a mistake, you thought, but you could barely help yourself as you moaned into his neck and ran your tongue over the scars, making him growl and grind you into himself harder. The friction, the knowledge that he wanted it too was driving you mad.  

“I’m going to come if you don’t stop that,” you begged. 

“Go ahead,” he groaned. 

“Not without you.” 

Something in the energy changed then, and you lifted yourself off him, sitting up. Astarion stayed on his back a moment longer, before exhaling and also raising himself into a sitting position. You were still on his lap, facing him.  

“Listen,” he took your face in both hands, looking into your eyes intensely. “I want you so fucking bad, it hurts. I want to tear your clothes off and ravage you until you’re speaking in tongues. I do.” His voice was hoarse. He paused, before continuing. “But even more than that, I want to remember this, remember you, and not have any of the dirt from my past mixed into it. It’s difficult enough to keep it at bay as it is.” His eyes teared up at that. “And right now, for now, this is the only way I know how to do that.”  

“I’m sorry.” Tears sprang from your eyes. 

“No, you sweet idiot, you haven’t done anything wrong. I love you.” He gathered you in his arms, kissing away your tears as his own started to roll down. He sighed. “Great, now no one is coming, and everyone is crying.” 

You both burst out laughing as soon as those words were out of his mouth.  

You held each other a while longer, him stroking your back, before you broke the silence. 

“So the bite scars are pretty erogenous then?” 

“Extremely. Use that knowledge at your own risk and peril, darling.” 

He lifted your chin for a kiss. 

“Shall we go piss everyone off for a while, maybe steal Lae’zel’s boots, then come back here for more ‘memories’?” he asked.  

“Sounds childish and dangerous. I’m in.” 

You needed to clear your head too.  

Maybe tomorrow would be the day one of you would get closer to knowing what it was you were doing, and tell the other. Until then, at least you were in it together. 

~~~~~ 

The “I love you” is not canon for Act 2, but it is my headcanon, damnit.  

Like what you just read? Huzzah, there’s more! - Series master list

Next in series - Communication

AO3

[rowretro]

𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕝𝕠𝕪𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕪

𝙔𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍𝙀 𝙍𝙄𝙆𝙄 𝙒𝙃𝙀𝙉 𝙐 𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙆 𝙃𝙀'𝙎 𝘾𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ 𓆩♡𓆪 ☽⋆˚｡⋆˚.

✰warnings: yandere themes, kissing, making out ish, a lot of fluff after they makeup<3

❀❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀⋆୨୧⋆❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀

Why would y/n care if the man who hurt her, kidnapped her, forced her to live with him in his home to go see other women? she hates him after all doesn't she? she wishes she does, but she just can't. He's so sweet to her despite the fact he abducted her purely because he loves her, he stopped his obsessive killing of men who even look in her direction, and now he even trusts her enough to leave, just the bedroom door unlocked. He literally killed for her, of course he'd die for her.

Y/n hates that she thinks he'd do such a thing, she received a picture from a friend on her snap, of Riki walking alongside another woman. They looked so close... she was flirtatious with him, arm around his shoulders, and he smiled at her. The woman being someone she loathed, a bitch who has beaten many girls almost to death, and tried to use y/ns personal life against her. Basically a bitch. To say she was mad was an understatement. The man who abducted her, killed for her, and treated her like a princess, forcing her to be his is with another fucking woman?!

She flinched a little as the door suddenly shut, interrupting her out of her thoughts. "baby im home~" he called. Y/n glared at the wall, waiting for him to enter the bedroom. "Why didn't you come to the door pretty girl?" he asked as Y/n frowned. "Am i pretty girl? or is she?!" y/n asked, as Riki sat opposite her on their bed. "who exactly is her?" he asked, a little confused "the side-chick that had her grubby hands all over you. im sorry, you drag me here claiming that you love me, killed a classmate that confessed to me, and used his many crimes as an excuse, only for you to cheat with a basic bitch who does nothing but whores around spending mommy's money and using daddy's name to defend her crimes?!" she lets out, clearly upset.

However riki just smiled, his eyes staring at her endearingly "my sweetheart is jealous~" he cooed as he tried to reach for her, mad y/n slapped his hands away. "ok ok cool cool... that bitch has been getting on my nerves lately... she filmed you getting dressed so I had to play the part to show her her place... don't worry I haven't killed her... yet..." he smirks, turning on the news. There she was, the girl's photo, somewhat blurred, being exposed for her many offences that she coverred up. "As for the video, deleted forever..." he added as y/n just sat there, unsure of what to do.

A few hours of silence pass, Riki was watching TV, as y/n finished up a few tiny chores. Seeing him, she heaved a quiet sigh, and slipped in the seat beside him. "Im cold" she said staring at him as he looked her up and down "Of course you are, it's autumn and you're wearing a thin-strapped croptop- and the material of those jeans are way too thin." he complained as Y/n frowned. "I said Im cold!" she whined as Riki snickerred. "you have to pay me first." he said as she bit her lip.

She leaned in, catching his soft, plush, perfect lips in a loving kiss, his arms wrapping around her waist, as they let their tongues collide, one of his hands rested at her head, as she placed her arms around his shoulders, deepening the kiss as much as she could. As she pulls away, she leaves a few soft kisses down his jawline to his neck, and sinks into his warm embrace. "Dont you dare cheat on me... I'll cry." She mumbled as she snuggled against him. "God you must think im insane if im ever willing enough to cheat on you. do you know how long ive waited for you?!" Riki asked.

He unzipped his hoodie, wrapping it around her a little, as he yanked a soft blanket to wrap around them "What do you wanna watch?" he asked "I know i've watched it a lot but... Let's watch so not worth it and order some nice food hmm?" Y/n suggests as he kisses her nose "Anything for you my lifeline~" he smiled, pulling out his phone to order food.

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a/n: yeah i don't even know about this... hope u enjoyed it tho<3

[meganmeyers]

POMEGRANATES & WINES

ACT TWO: DRIFTWOOD THRONE

jacaerys velaryon x aunt!targtower oc

word count: 11.5k

previous part: part one

masterlist: intro

warnings/includes: fighting, internalized religious trauma, body dystrophia, angst, self loathing, psychological trauma, alicent is an awful mother and gives averillia all her issues, sexual awakening (not smut she’s like a little baby still.), eye fucking across the dinner table but not really and it’s really awkward, jacaerys causes intense sexual tension but doesn’t realize it because he’s kinda an idiot, averillia is lowkey a freak and severely touch starved, but she’s also afraid of intimacy(?), jacaerys is also a freak but he’s a teenage boy going though puberty so cut him some slack, first kiss, borderline freakiest kiss between two hormonal mid puberty teens i’ve ever seen.

Summary: Princess Averillia Targaryen was the 5th born child of Viserys Targaryen and Alicent Hightower in 117 A.C. Close in age to her nephew Jacaerys Velaryon a close friendship formed in between the two vicious families.

Note: Hello everyone! Thank you for the love on the first part! I’ll mention now that this part will get into some more darker themes. I’ll probably be rewriting the first part of this series as well, I’ve felt that I could have added more to the story than what I had done. Also! This next part is not canon timeline accurate! Instead of six years it will be four years!

Princess Averillia was not seen by the royal court much after the incident at Driftmark. The Princess was hidden in her rooms or upon the skies with her dragon mount. Nobody saw the young princess roam the halls of the Keep or even attend meetings of the court. Some believed that Queen Alicent Hightower had locked her away in her bedroom as a punishment for being involved in the maiming of Prince Aemond Targaryen. As if the princess receiving her first ever course was not enough humiliation for the young girl. The people only saw the princess when she was dragged to the Sept by her mother. During those rare times in public the princess did not ever look happy, more terrified in fact. She would stand as far behind or away from the Queen as appropriately possible. The maids in the Keep gossip on how the only people ever seen entering and leaving the princesses apartments were her personal maids and the lady in waiting she was given. Some noble girl from the Dornish lands of house Dayne, quiet the spectacle considering the relations between Dorne and the conflicts in the stepstones against the crown. The girl was no older than ten maybe when she arrived to the Keep. She was a small girl who was quiet and always kept her head down, the queen must have liked her quiet nature to keep her around in the Keep after these many moons. The only thing the small Dornish girl received from home was pomegranates. The reddish and pink fruit grows in warmer and dryer climates. The girl did receive many fabrics and dresses at times, but no letters or ravens ever arrived for the young lady, many in the court speculated something scandalous happened but in Dorne and that’s why the young girl was sent to serve in enemy territory.

“My Lady, you mustn’t stain your dress now! I don’t need to hear anymore from your maids about how awful it is the try and scrub the juice from your skirts!”, The young darker haired lady complained to the princess. The young princess turned to look at the girl from her couch, “How many times have I told you Elia! It’s Illia to you not ‘My Lady’. You are my only friend not someone my mother and father employs.”. “Friend or not, you still mustn’t stain your dresses.”, The young girl hit the princess on the top of her head with a letter. The darker girl made herself comfortable on the opposite end of the couch across from the blonde princess.

“I’ve found some news that shall brighten your day. Possibly get you to stop lounging around your room, draped in fabrics that barley cover you.”, The girl had teased the princess for her habits. She did indeed lounge around in her room draped in fabrics Elia’s family sent her. Modesty was lost on her return from Driftmark, especially after the princess had Elia arrive as a lady in waiting for her services. The two girls had shared stories with one another during the early nights in each other’s company. Elia had told her about how women and men dress and act down in Dorne and the differences of women and men here in the crownlands. Averillia had found the stories fascinating and thought the fabrics in the dresses Elia wore were the softest fabrics she’d ever felt. The princess often wore the fabrics in lounge wear or had them made into the underskirts of her dresses. The fabrics were very sheer, only to be worn in the privacy of her personal staff.

“What news do you bring me that will, as you say brighten my day?”, Illia ended her sentence in a sarcastic tone. “Court is to be held on the legitimacy in the driftwood throne on who will inherit, now that the sea snake has fallen ill. W-“ The lady had been interrupted by the princess letting out a loud and annoyed sound of disgust. She rolled herself off the couch and over to the table filled with drinks and other treats to pour herself a glass of wine. “Must you drink now? Gods Illia, its barley mid-day and I haven’t even finished the news. You may grow a gut like Aegon’s if you intend to drink this much.”. Illia turned around towards the girl who now leaned over the arm of the couch she had just been resting upon, a disgusted face greeted the girl when the princess turned. “Never compare me to that disgusting drunkard again! Gods do you hate me so to wish that fate upon me?”. Elina had rolled her eyes at Illia’s dramatics and just went back to the letter, “Because court is to be held, the princess Rhaenyra’s family will be arriving in Kings Landing on the marrow and be staying for a weeks’ time while court is being held. Isn’t that exciting Illia? You’ll get to see Rhaenyra, Jacaerys, and-“, “I’ll have to watch my mother and grandsire completely belittle my sister and nephews again because of some resentment my mother and sister hold. Sounds like another fight waiting to break out again.”. The blonde took a long drink from the glass of wine she poured, “Illia why can’t you see the good in this? All you do every day is lounge around and read books or work on silly needle work.”. “My needle work isn’t silly! You’ve told me many times that it’s beautiful and quiet elegant and that its even more elegant than Helaena’s work!”.

Elina was often seen asking the Queen for permission to either leave the castle grounds for errands for the princess or sitting in court without the princess to hear of what news and gossip is shared among the ladies in high court. While she’s out she does often run into the Queen in Princess Helaena’s chambers with the two young children the princess carried. She’s seen the beautiful needlework Illia’s sister created that decorates the twin children’s clothes and blankets during her few times in the chambers of the elder princess.

“Illia can you at least try and see the good in this? For an entire week you get to visit with your eldest sister and those two boys of hers who adore you! So quit being such a poisonous viper and enjoy their company while they are here.”

“Fine. Whatever, but if my mother makes any comment- “, “Oh gods Illia! I’ll be right there with you, I won’t let you face that cruel women alone.”

The family arrived half by ship and the other half by dragon back on the following marrow. The dragon shadows that had flown past her windows confirmed the princess’s waiting’s.

Two carriages had pulled into the courtyard of the Red Keep while the Princess was seen sprinting and hopping steps in a blur of light blue, white, and golden honey blonde with her Lady following in close proximity in a blur of dark blues and gold with black hair flying behind her.

The family was exiting their carriages, while waiting for them was the Queen dressed in a dark color of green and her three other children dressed in the similar shades of greens. Other members of the court stood waiting to greet the royal family. As they had settled themselves on the ground and had their traveling cloaks and dress covers removed, they turned back to the members of the court. The doors of the castle opened quickly and an out of breathe Princess Averillia and an equally out of breath Lady Elia Dayne had rushed to stand in line with the green-styled family. Frantically adjusting their hair and dresses, trying to at least be a bit more presentable.

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon wouldn’t have recognized the princess if it wasn’t for her opposed color palette to the rest of her family. Her hair had gotten longer, and her face slimmed out of the childish fat he had last seen her with. She had truly grown into a more women body for a girl at the age of three and ten. Her hips had widened, and her breasts had gotten into a larger womanly shape, but they might just only look bigger compared to the slimness of the rest of her, he could see her collarbones from across the courtyard and her ribs were slightly visible through her gown. She was still beautiful, nevertheless to him. The girl next to her was a girl he did not know. She was a slightly darker skinned girl with black hair and purple eyes, she looked Dornish, but the eyes did not resemble the color of Dornish people. She had on a gown of dark blue fabrics with golden lace decorations and goldish color necklaces and headwear. She had a dark blue veil on as well. He did not recall a girl that looked like her during his years at the Keep.

“Princess Rhaenyra! Welcome back to Kings Landing. I hope the journey here was not to much trouble?”

Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen was dressed in a dark red gown decorated with black trims and lace; in her arms she held a bundle wrapped in a blanket. Prince Daemon Targaryen stood next to her holding a small white-haired boy, Illia had heard the news of her sister and uncles’ marriage but nothing about children born of said marriage. Next to them four children stood, three boys with black hair and a girl with white curly hair wrapped into a updo that looked like something Illia would not sit through. Her eyes had turned to Jacaerys, He had grown sense she’d seen him last. He had gotten taller and slimmed himself down, his jaw was more angled than before and his cheeks he had were gone. His hair was short but had curled locks upon it rather than the thick fluff of hair he used to have. He was holding a small boy who also had dark hair, it had to be Joffrey Velaryon. She remembers seeing him the day of his birth but never again, not even at Driftmark four years ago.

“Thank you, Your Grace. It is unexpected to be back so soon.”, Queen Alicent had given a smile and quickly rushed her children dressed in greens back inside with members of the court following, leaving only Averillia and Elina in the courtyard. The princess waited for the doors to be closed before starting off sprinting at Jace. The teen prince quickly handed his younger brother to Rhaena before capturing the golden-haired princess in a tight embrace. He had taken a couple staggered steps back at the force of the impact from the teenage princess but nevertheless held her close. A few laughs were heard from the elder couple at the princess’s excitement. Lady Elina had walked up to the royal family offering her greetings.

“Princess Averillia, I believe there are other members of the party who also wish to greet you.”, the princess had loosed her embrace on the teenage boy and turned to her friend with a very unamused face, which in turn made the lady laugh at her friend before pointing her head towards the eldest sister. Illia had broken herself from Jace’s arms and walked to Rhaenyra and hugged her, avoiding crushing the small bundle in her arms. “Is this your mothers old dress, little sister?”, the girl had given a small smile before confirmed her eldest sisters’ suspicions.

“Come sweet girl, we must catch up. It’s been far to long sense we’ve spoken.”

The family had gotten comfortable in the elder princess’s old apartments, maids had hurried to bring in sweets and refreshments for the royal family before making their leaves quickly.

“Now sister who are these two children? I don’t believe we’ve been introduced!”. “This one is Aegon, and the newest one is Viserys.” Rhaenyra had passed her sister the small infant to hold. Elina leaned over Illia’s shoulder to look at the infant closely. The babe slept peacefully in the princess’s arms, “Sister when shall you have a girl? You’ve had far too many boys, I may be sick of seeing boys between my brothers and your sons.”. Rhaenyra laughed at her sisters jokes knowing in truth she was correct. Jace and Luke who had been sitting on the opposite couch let out a few remarks back towards the princess who in turn just poked her tongue out of her mouth. “Now who is this lady sitting next to you, Illia? I’m afraid I don’t recognize her.”

“I am Elina Dayne, of House Dayne in Dorne, Your Grace. I am Lady in Waiting to Princess Averillia Targaryen, Your Grace.”, Illia turned to her friend with only a few words to reply. “Quit calling me Averillia, It’s to much of a mouthful.”. The family had all laughed at the girls’ antics, “She is also my only friend and companion here in this dreadful place. Isn’t that right Viserys?”. The girl had talked to the young babe in a silly voice to try and entertain the babe, but he just kept sleeping peacefully. “Sister, I must retire now. I have lessons to attend, and Gods forbid I miss them.” The princess handed her youngest nephew back to her eldest sister before making her way out the door.

“Elina, you can run any errands you need too. My lessons will take up much of my time.”. The dark haired girl nodded before going in the opposite direction of the princess through a different corridor. The girl made haste to her own apartments after her friend left her sight. Closing the door of her room closed, she found nobody inside her chambers. “Thank the Gods.”. Illia had looked towards her desk at the stack of papers, scrolls, and books from her Septa. She hated many topics they taught her, they bored her entirely. She would rather fall upon a sword than be stuck learning forever.

Her complaining would not make the books and scrolls go away anyways, she has learned that the harder way. She just grabbed her needle hoop and went back to the blanket she was decorating. She found a place along one of her rooms windows and had gotten comfortable. The window gave her a clear view of the training yard which was always much of an annoyance hearing the men yell and the metal hit against one another constantly but it’s different when she caught a glimpse of Jace and Luke standing along the outskirts. Even from up high she could see how much Jace had changed in the last four years. He had indeed grown into a handsome man. His curly hair did amplify his looks and aided well with his face shape. Gods she has not seen a man look so handsome in years, or possibly ever. His Valyrian features was one of the seller points for her sudden attraction towards him, his jaw, cheek bones, and the dark purple eyes had made him look even more like someone to belong to the Gods than with Man. She did wonder what was hidden under his doublet, did he also lose the boyish fat and built muscle along his upper torso and arms? Did the Gods bless him with such beauty for the rest of him as they had for just his face?

“Ouch!”

She had stuck herself with the sewing needle in her realm of thinking. Blood droplets quickly collected to the surface on her finger and dripped down to the floor.

“You foolish girl! You’ve ruin yourself for your future!”

She flung herself from the cushions she had been sitting on and quickly examined the cushion. No blood.

Those were the last words Alicent ever said to her. Months after the incident Alicent could not even be in the same room as her, she would just walk out of the room or have someone remove Averillia from the room. It was always one of Alicent’s maids to enforce her to get dressed to go to the Sept with her after she had gotten over herself. The entire trip she would not speak a word to her. She would just give the girl certain looks when she would do certain things. Dinners had turned sour fast, if the girl spoke any words or do anything unproper she would give Averillia this intense stare. If Alicent was angry enough she had the guards remove her from the table and sent to her chambers without being able to finish her meal. Soon she had started to be subjected to eating alone in her chambers. Isolated completely. Sometimes her father would have her join him for a meal in his chambers where they would have small discussions; but his condition has worsened, and he was unable to make it to the table. She was soon invited to her fathers’ chambers just for discussions, but her mother soon found out and forbade her from attending her own fathers company.

Complete Isolation.

After Driftmark her Septa, this older woman whose chin hung far over her neck covering; had taken her to the Sept for prayer, but not the normal prayer. Prayers that had talks of purity and virtue and how sacred such a gift is, how giving it to a man you’re not married to will destroy you. How the stranger will take you away and burn you for your sins. Pleasure and lust were sins against the Gods and blood was the punishment and shame for such a girl to bear if she ever thought and engaged in such sins. The girl cried during such prayers and sermons for still being shaken up by the events just mere weeks earlier. She had been isolated from her sister Helaena during this too. “She is to be a married women and lay with her husband before the Gods as a virgin maiden. Do not corrupt her as you have done for yourself.” She had not been allowed to Helaena’s wedding either due to that fact. She had that Septa for two years until Averillia had knocked over a lit candle stand causing the Septa to catch fire and soon strike the girl across the face with her hand. Her father had removed the Septa from the princesses’ services and replaced her with younger and peaceful Septa. She would sit and work on needlework while Averillia worked on her own studies and never brought her to the Sept for prayer.

Aemond would not speak to her ever. He never admitted to the truth of what happened that night either. The only family member she was able to speak to was Daeron. She would send ravens at least once every few weeks to him in Oldtown considering he was the only sibling who would even speak to her. She had the fear that her mother was going to ship her away to Oldtown for what she had done but her father did not allow it. Her grandsire Otto never spoke to her, even so he never did before anyways. He just hid in the shadows along the walls like a spider in a dark corner.

Illia was used to so little company that she did not need any at all.

Elina had returned hours later carrying in gowns and a bright smile, “Illia! You will never believe it.”. The girl had taken the gowns and thrown them on the couch before joining Illia on the mattress. “Rhaenyra had stopped me in the corridor, and she had insisted that you join her family for supper tonight! We must get you ready!”. Before Illia could even refuse the offer, Elina had dragged the girl from her bed to her washroom to an already filled tub of warm water. “Take off your clothes before I wash you with them still on!”

Elina had scrubbed her skin and covered her with soaps and oils with warm scents from the Dornish lands. She dried the princess and then started her hair and using even more oils to have her curls be more prominent. She had seen Elina do it to her own hair but never hers. Elina had made her standby her long mirror exposed before going and finding a gown suited from the ones she had just picked up today. Illia had laughed at her friends’ antics before turning back to the mirror. She looked at herself before moving downwards. “Elina? Have my ribs always been this exposed?” No answer came. She had traced each individual rib under her breast, and her collar bones had now shown more prominently than before. Elina had come back with arms filled with a pile of dark blue and gold fabric. “It’s the perfect gown.”. The gown was of golden fabric underneath dark blue, a long train skirt and sleeves that draped from her elbows to mid skirt. Gold needle work lined the trim of the gown. Elina insisted on a golden belt for her waist and a golden pendant for a necklace.

A knock came from the door of her chambers to which both girls had whipped their heads too. Elina quickly rushed to see who had been outside and in hush whispers had spoken to the stranger outside. The girl beckoned Illia to join her at the door. She opened the door wider to find not one but two boys standing before the doorway. Lucerys Velaryon and Jacaerys Velaryon were standing outside her chamber doors. Lucerys was dressed in a lighter blue doublet, similar to the color of her dress earlier in the day, with white tunic sleeves. Silver detail covered the doublet. Jacaerys had on a black doublet, it was more fitted than Lucerys was. The shoulders had been more set to give him a wider frame and black detailing lined the collar and chest. Dark black fabric hung from one should and across his back in a cape like motion. It complemented him more than the black and red doublet he had on during his arrive. Jacaerys hair had been put more together than after his journey on dragon back here. It also hung in defined curls, hardly longer than the nape of his neck and past his ears. He did not stink of dragon either, he smelled of salt and smoke in a way. He looked even more handsome up closely than at a distance from her window.

“My Lady, the princes have come here to escort you to dinner.”, Elina had given her a look before gently guiding her out the door. Jacaerys had been the first to offer his arm to her with a slight bow of his head, “My Lady, would you be so forgiving in allowing my brother and I to escort you to dinner this evening?”. Staring at him with wide eyes she had only given a nod before taking Jaceaery’s arm in hers. Lucerys was quick to take her other arm, putting her in the middle of the two brothers. “Well then, we shall be off My Lady.”

Daemon, Rhaenyra, and Rhaena were the only other ones in attendance for supper that evening. Jacaerys had led her to her seat and pulled her chair out before pushing it in and making his way back around to the other side of the table to sit across from her. Rhaenyra was sat to her left and Rhaena was sat to her right, while Daemon and Lucerys sat across from them. Cups of wine were poured for the parents and two older children while water was given to the younger two. Maids and Servants filled the families’ plates with meats and vegetables. The family had started to quietly eat their portions of the meal while Averillia sat with her hands in her lap. She had touched nothing in fear of angering her sister or her uncle.

“Illia? Are you not going to eat?” The girl’s attention went to Jace who had been putting his wine glass back down, staring intensely directly at her. He had licked his lips getting off the dark red wine residue that had been left behind. Rhaenyra had looked to the girl and she had looked guilty of being caught of something. “Illia? Sweet girl, are you alright?”, the older women grabbed the girls hand to get her attention. Her head whipped quickly to her and ripped her hand away, starting her in the process. “I- I am sorry!”, the younger princess was quick to say aloud. “Illia, you have done no wrong to warrant an apology. I was just making sure you are feeling well, you have not touched anything on your plate.” The older women ran her hand over her younger sister’s hair in attempt to comfort her. “Oh, sorry ‘Nyra. I was just simply lost in a thought.” The girl had quickly picked up her fork and started to pick at some of the vegetables on her plate. The women had not quiet believed the girl, especially when a young servant boy had walked up from behind Daemon and whispered a few words into his ear while he filled the older prince’s glass of wine. Daemon’s lips had tightened into a fine line before he drank more of his wine. A conversation was indeed meant to happen later about what had been shared.

“Father? When will Baela and Grandmother be joining us?” Rhaena was quick to change the topic of conversation, “On the marrow before court is to be held.”. “Oh Averillia! You must show me your needlework, I was told you have quiet the talent for it.” The white blonde had turned herself towards the golden blonde during her talk, “Please Rhaena call me, Illia. We’re family.” The girl drank from her glass of wine while the younger girl let out a giggle and falling back against her chair. Illia had forgotten the girl next to her was only two and ten. Such behavior was to happen, even if Illia was only a year older than her.

The girl had gone back to her plate of food only to look up and see Jace staring right at her. He looked away after a few pauses. That is how supper had continued, a few conversations were held with one another and stories were shared, and Jace and Illia had been sneaking glances back and forth across the table.

Once supper had ended and the two younger had been ushered to their chambers, Jace had offered to escort her to her chambers himself. Illia had said her goodnights to Rhaenyra and Daemon before being pulled out the door by Jace. He had walked a few paces before stopping the pair, “How would you like to show me the gardens?” She had turned to him at the request, her lilac eyes wide and her mouth parted open. “What?”, “Oh please Illia! It will be fun, just like old times sake. Come on let’s go!”. She did not even have time to refuse the prince before he pulled her through halls to the gardens outside.

The night sky was quite clear tonight, Illia could see almost every star in the sky and the moon all clearly. The gardens were tall bushes adorned with flowers and vines in an elaborate maze placement. “Come on Illia!” Jace had let go of her arm and taken to running ahead of her into the gardens entrance. “Jace wait!” the girl cried, she watched his cape disappear behind a wall before picking up the bottom of her skirts and running in behind him. She heard his laughs and encouragements for her to keep following him. She had truly lost the boy, she must have taken at least two wrong turns before coming upon a deadened wall. She had thrown down her skirts and let out a frustrated cry.

“Jacaerys Velaryon, this isn’t funny!” She cried to the sky before turning around. In a moment Jace had ran towards her and grabbed her under the waist, lifting her into the air while going around in circles. The golden haired princess let out and terrified shriek and cursed the boys names. She had thrown her hands against the prince’s head and back in fits of rage. He had just laughed at her as he placed her back down on the ground, before he could settle his footing the girl had given him a rough shove causing the prince to fall upon his rear onto his back. He laughed even more at the actions the girl had taken to him. “Oh that’s it Averillia Targaryen. You better run.”

The girl didn’t hesitate to start running. She gripped the front end of her skirts turning corner after corner not remember the way she came. She heard the prince’s heavy footsteps behind her getting closer. She made the fatal mistake to look behind her, she had unknowingly slowed down enough for the prince to grab her dress skirt and pull her to him. He wrapped him arms around her and had thrown her over his shoulder. Defenseless against the older boy she just wiggled her body to try and make her escape. He walked her through the maze to the opening in the middle of the garden. He placed her onto the dirt and untangled himself from her, in the struggle she had kicked his one supporting leg and caused him to fall right onto the blonde. Pained grunts were shared between the two before Jace supported himself again, face to face with the blonde under him.

“How do I look from down there?” he asked her. The blondes face had been flushed a bright red from underneath him, she just stared with her mouth agape staring at him. Her chest started to feel very hot in the moment, unsure from the embarrassment or attraction. The boy had let out a loud laugh and rolled himself onto his side. Illia sat up after Jace rolled off of her and had gone to fix her skirts. Once Jace had his laughs did he sit up and notice the girls pout. “Oh Illia, I’m sorry. I was just trying to brighten your mood from dinner. Something was obviously troubling you. Please don’t be mad at me.”

The blonde had turned to him and saw him looking up at her through his curled bangs a slight pout on his lips. She took a sharp intake of breath at the sight of him. She looked away faster than she had originally looked. Her ears must be red at this point from him. Jace did not like the answer she gave him and instead got up behind her and hugged her. She let out a small quiet squeak from the embrace. “Illia. Please forgive me.” The boy had whispered in her ear. She felt his hot breath on her neck and his arms tighten around her waist. “Jace, you must not do this. Someone will see.”

The boy removed himself to be sitting next to her and facing her during it. “Illia, we are doing nothing wrong.” He grabbed her face in his which was equally as warm as his breath on her skin. She closed her eyes and held his hand making him drop it from her face and instead lay in her lap. “I have missed you ever so dearly, Illia.”

“I have also missed you quiet dearly too, Jace.”

“Daemon what had the servant boy tell you?” Rhaenyra had been changed into her night dress undoing her hair when she asked the question. Daemon turned to her to see her looking at him through the mirror. “Exactly what the green dressed woman had put Averillia though during theses past four years.”. “What would you mean by that?” Rhaenyra had turned her entire body around on the stool to look at her husband as he started to tell her about the temperament Alicent had with the girl after Driftmark.

“I- I must go speak with my father.”

The blonde women rushed out of the from their shared quarters and the door closed quickly behind her.

The bright light of morning followed soon. Elina had wasted no time in getting into her ladies room as soon as the dawn broke. She had ripped open shades letting the bright morning light shine directly onto the princess. Illia had let out a loud groan at the unannounced sudden light that blinded her. “It’s time to get up my lady! Court in to be held today and you must attend!” In turn she had pulled the princess from her warmer sheets to get her into the bath. She had made Illia sit through a torturous twenty and two minutes of defining her curls and leaving a braided hairband crown onto of her head to pull her hair away from her face. “I should be receiving a hefty price for putting up with your antics my Lady. – the girl had turned towards the box of jewels and headwear before continuing - You sit worse than a small child does.” The princess in offence had taken the hair comb and thrown it at the lady hitting her straight in the chest. An eyebrow raised in return to the girls pathetic attempt. “You’re now acting like a child. A girl of ten and three should not be throwing fits over having their hair done.” “You pull hard!” Illia had replied but Elina had already turned her back towards the wardrobe. “You are just tender headed, my lady!”

The bigger fight was the dress Elina had made for Illia to wear. “That is to extravagant Elina! What makes you think I will wear that?”  The gown was of a fuller skirt of light grey silk under a dark greyish blue overdress of satin. A corset had also needed to be worn for such a cut in the neckline. The sleeves just feel into what looked like waves from her elbows. Silver needlework decorated the bodice and sleeve cuffs. Small silver chains decorated the neckline in pairing. The gown looked like a torturous contraption for Illia. “You are to be presented in front of the entirety of the court and more importantly it is blue. No green, a silent support for prince Lucerys Velaryon today.” The princess still was not sold on the idea, no matter how much she knew it would make her mother lose her mind. “Also if you do care to know, A maid friend of mine told me that the elder prince is to be wearing shades of greys and reds and he looks quiet charming in his outfit.” Elina knew just the right words to make the princess agree to her minor demands. “You are a cruel woman, Elina Dayne.”

“The princess looks more like she would belong to the houses of Velaryon or Arryn in her color choice in gowns for heaven’s sake! She fits better to be a princess of King Viserys and Queen Aemma then the lady Alicent Hightower.”

“Is that the Dayne girl with her? Why would his Grace the King allow such a girl into our lands?” “I heard she had been casted out for killing her own baby brother in his sleep! How would they allow her to be in Keep with the Princess Helaena’s children here?”

“I am surprised they kept the simple princess even near the family! Did you not hear about what she had done to prince Aemond with his grotesque scar?”

“My word, my Lady. I thought I had seen more vipers in Dorne, but I fear I’ve been mistaken.” The princess let out a snort at her companion’s comment. A few heads of the court turned to her before looking back away. “You are quiet right, my friend. About more than on thing.”

Elina followed her friend’s eyes to see them land upon the royal family across the room, specifically at the eldest prince in the pack of dragons. “Oh, my Lady. He could have been dressed in nothing covered in sheep’s dung and you still would have found him charming.” Illia had turned around to face her. Eyes wide and her cheeks and ears a bright pink tint. “You mustn’t speak like that in public Elina! Someone may hear you!” The Dayne girl laughed at how easily she had made her friend flustered by a simple image.

The princess huffed at her friend and turned back around towards the front. Her eyes slowly went across the way to Jacaerys. He did indeed look charming in his attire. The darker grey doublet was once again fitted to his form, it was trimmed with red fabric and grey needle work was decorating the red. He wore a belt on his waist and a sword hung from the belt. He hadn’t had one on the day before and in her eyes it made him look more grown. His hands rested on the hilt of the swords handle, veins protruded from the tops of his hand being very visible in the light shinning through. The same hand she had held the night before in the garden. Illia had wished later on after she had retired to her chambers that she hadn’t moved his hand. That they still held her cheeks for the entirety and did not let her go. Oh how she wished he had held her longer in the embrace they had shared before she had forced him to break it. Averillia felt a tightening and intense heat in her breasts, her breathing labored as she felt the tightening feeling crawl up from her breasts to her neck. Choking her in a way. Oh how the Gods would punish her for thinking of such sinful thoughts.

“Though it is a great hope of this court that lord Corlys Velaryon survives his wounds, we gather here with he grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As Hand, I speak with the King’s voice on this and all other matters. The crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon, please start us off.”

“The seas foulest serpent gets to place his poison.” The lady Dayne had whispered just loud enough for the Targaryen princess to hear. She delivered a small smack with her hand to the girl next to her causing the two to break into small audible giggles. The eldest black dragon prince had looked over towards the two girls draped in blues when he heard the giggles. They had both been looking at the sea snakes’ brother who was walking up to the front of the court. He furrowed his brows in confusion on what could be so funny in this moment, the lady of house Dayne had seen the princes confused look and had taken her two fingers and curled them over. She made a sharp motion with the two fingers as if she were piercing something. He was even more confused at the girls action, he had clearly missed the joke shared.

“The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the Doom fell on Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebearers came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end to their bloodlines and their name. I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother’s seat. I am Lord Corlys’s closest kin, his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins.”

The princess has certainly had enough of Lord Vaemond’s words. The show he was putting on had almost made the princess turn and leave the court room. She looked to the dragon brothers and saw Lucerys scared face and his elder brothers face had also seem to have had enough of Vaemond’s words.

“As it does my sons, the offspring of the late Laenor Velaryon. Or have you forgotten that in your own ambitions?” Princess Rhaenyra had interrupted the man before he could continue.

“Maybe if the sea serpent did care so much about his own houses blood, he would not be so bold in spreading his venomous accusations against its rightful heir.” The girl next to Averillia had commented, but clearly she had spoken to loudly as the mans eyes had turned around right towards her as well as both families in black and green. “Lady Dayne, do you care to repeat yourself and share loudly of your witty comments?” Vaemond had asked the lady, a clear look of evil in his eyes.

“Of course, Ser Vaemond.” She stepped out from around Averillia closer to the middle of the group. “I had said, ‘If the venomous Sea Serpent did care for his own houses blood, he would not be so emboldened in to spreading such poisonous accusations against its rightful heir’. Must I make clear what fatal accusations you speak of? His Grace, King Viserys would not take kindly to such accusations against his own grandson, his own heirs second born son. Would your brother Lord Corlys Velaryon take such gratitude in your rebuttal against his own heir that he’s upheld sense the boy was born from his own mothers womb?”

“What do you know of accusations, Lady Dayne? Considering you come from Dornish land where men lie with men and women lie with women. Men and women produce bastards and they get to inherit still. Your people know nothing of our customs – the man had gotten closer to the young lady, chest to chest talking down to her - and for such an opinion of a dornish girl, what do you know of Velaryon blood, Lady Dayne? I could cut my veins and show it to you and you still wouldn’t recognize it.”

“I shall gladly provide you the blade, Ser Vaemond. Maybe in that case you can remove your tongue with the same blade for the king and I’ll present it to him on a sparkling silver platter!” The eldest princess had pushed herself between the two tempered people as Prince Jacaerys had pulled the lady Dayne and the princess Averillia behind him with the help of Prince Daemon.

“Princess Rhaenyra, you will make your own petition for your son but have the courtesy of allowing Ser Vaemond’s to be heard. I also apologize ser Vaemond for Princess Averillia’s lady in waiting and her out of turn words. She will be sure to keep her lady in check.” The Queen Alicent had walked over to guide Vaemond away from the princess Rhaenyra and continue on the conversation.

“Of course. My Queen and my Lord Hand, I humbly put myself before you as my brother’s successor, the Lord of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides.”

“Thank you, Ser Vaemond. Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon.”

Rhaenyra walked up to the center of the room after Vaemond had walked away. She looked in the embodiment of a dragon. Draped in a black dress and dragon fire like needlework and beads designed the bodice. “If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding the court that nearly 20 years ago, in this very-”

“King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.”

The crowd had turned to see the king enter in. He walked with a club foot like limp. He would try to stand tall but would go back down with every limp. Coughs racked him into stopping and taking a hard lean onto his cane as he walked. “Father…”

The princess draped in blues was fast to go to her fathers aide with her lady following quickly behind her. Both girls standing on each side of him to help him stead himself. “I will sit the throne today.” The weakened king had called out to his Lord Hand. The king looked to his youngest child, “I have always delighted in when you wear blues, my dear girl. You look much like my late Aemma.”. The princesses eyes had gone wide and gathered lightly with tears at his words. The girl has not seen her father in almost two years because his condition was worsening. He has mistaken her mother for his late wife Aemma Arryn a couple times, but he never compared her to the late queen before that moment. He smiled to his daughter before turning to his daughter’s lady in waiting, “Lady Dayne, please allow me to walk myself. I will be fine.” Averillia and Elina shared a look of uncertainty before letting the old king walk himself.

He continued his path up to the throne before having yet another coughing fit. He hunched over himself having the Targaryen crown fall from his brow to clatter on the floor. The girls in blue were quick to aide the old king but his younger brother had beat them to his aide. Daemon had signaled the girls to back away in which they were lead by Rhaenyra and Jacaerys back towards the pact of black dragons.

Daemon helped his brother to the seat of the throne and placed the golden crown on his brow.

“I must… admit… my confusion. I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one present… who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys’s wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.” Behind the pact of dragons came out the Princess Rhaenys, followed behind her was the young Baela Targaryen. The girl had grown into a beautiful girl since Driftmark, she had grown taller and filled into the brighter blue dress she wore.

“Indeed, Your Grace. – she had taken a pause before continuing - It was ever my husband’s will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his true born son… Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him. As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her son Lucerys Velaryon to Lord Corlys’s granddaughter, Rhaena Targaryen. A proposal to which I heartily agree.” Both Rhaena and Lukes heads had turned to the other one after that statement. Luke was quick to turn away after Jace had given the boy an encouraging shoulder bump, face flushed a bright red color. Illia had only turned to the younger girl and gave her hand a squeeze and a gentle smile.

“Then the matter is settled. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood throne, and the next Lord of the Tides.” The king broke into another coughing fit before a voice spoke up.

“You break law… and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. Yet you dare tell me… who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it.”

“”Allow it”? Do not forget yourself.”

The man had walked closer to the pact of dragons making the children take a few steps back, “That is no true Velaryon, and certainly no nephew of mine!” Elina Dayne had been the one to step up to the hot tempered man before he had gotten closer to the younger prince. Rhaenyra had quickly put herself before the girl, “Go to your chambers. You have said enough.”

“Do not lose your tongue Ser. You are only no more than a second son of Driftmark.” The Dornish lady had a pause before the hand of the Sea Serpent had struck her across the face. “Elina!”

“You may run your house as you see fit! But you will not decide the future of mine! My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides. And gods be damned, I will not see it ended on the account of this!”

“Say it”

“Her children – he had paused and taken in a deep breath – are bastards! And she is a whore!”

Gasps had been heard from the court before the king demanded the mans tongue.

In an instant Daemon had moved to the man and swung his sword, Jace was fast to push Illia behind him with his younger siblings. Blood had flown through the air from the blade of dark sister falling onto the children. Jace and Illia being covered the most after the body fell and the blood had sprayed from the mans exposed inner skull. Jace’s boots had fully been soaked and the entirety of Illia’s skirts had been covered. The blood went from the fallen body through the stones cracks right to the bloody blondes shoes.

“You foolish girl! You’ve ruin yourself for your future!”

Averillia’s chest started to tighten and taking in rapid breaths. Her hands had started to tremble and her eyes darted from the body to the trail of blood that led right to her. This was how the Gods punished her for such impure thoughts. Her sins are paid in blood.

“Illia!” Her eyes snapped to the prince who had been trying to get her attention. Blood had gotten onto his face across his cheekbone, his eyes looked at her with complete concern at her labored breaths and trembling hands.

“Sins are paid for in blood. You mustn’t touch me!” The princess pushed herself from the prince. She backed faster to turn to the door and quickened her pace.

“Averillia?”

“My Lady!”

“How good is it to see you all tonight, together.”

The table had been set for all 13 family members. A family divided by black and green cloaks and gowns. Both of the head women sat on either side of the king across from their children. She had been placed on the end next to Aemond. Why the seating had to be so she did not understand. She was across from Rhaena and Luke so she had a familiar friend at least. Baela was next to her and Jace was sitting between her and Aegon.

Jace had changed from his bloody court wear into a finer doublet, it was another black one, it had from even halfway down the table fit him nicely. The hook clasps of the doublet were of silver and the draped fabric along the back had been of a dark purple, almost black. Darker than her own purple dress but matched the beads and needle work along the collar of the dress and also the bands at the bottom of the shoulder puffs into long tight sleeves.  The gowns neckline was square cut but had dipped lower than some of her other gowns. When the gown was tightened to the proper tightness it made her breasts more prominent. Elina had insisted on the gown for dinner that night. Illia was starting to suspect the minor connections in their outfits had been more intentional than her friend was letting on.

He was quiet a beautiful man, in the candlelight his face held more definition. His eyes looked much more black than purple in the dimly lit room. She had started to wonder if they would still look like this blackened shade if he was in the moonlight that casted through her chamber windows right onto her bed. Would the curls of his hair cast such shadows on his eyes or would he had his hair pushed back for her to get a clearer look at his face as he laid under her in the moonlight? Would he have held her in a warm embrace without the feeling of clothing layers blocking them. Before Illia had been able to indulge deeper into her sinful dreams her father had interrupted with his speech.

“My grandson, Luke will be the future lord of the tides with his cousin Rhaena by his side. Further strengthening the bond between our families. A toast to the young couples betrothal!”

“Hear, hear”

“I also have another celebration to announce.” The eyes of the table had once again turned to the old king. “I have decided… to betroth my grandson, Jacaerys Velaryon to my last daughter, Averillia Targaryen. A strong future king needs the right queen by his side and I am certain that Averillia will stand by faithfully.”

Averillia had taken in a quick breath at her fathers announcement. She looked to Jace who had already been looking at her, he formed a smile before turning away and drinking from his glass.

“Husband, you cannot be truthful. You never consulted me on a choice of husband for our daughter.” Alicent had been quick to rebuttal the kings news. “The daughter you have not spoken a word to in about four years? I wasn’t going to wait around for our daughter to become a spinster because you can’t seem to forgive her for a accident that happened when they were children. I wish to be present watching all my daughters be wed and happy with their new families before I am cold and dead in my grave.” The elder women had been taken aback by her husbands outburst as had the rest of the table. Nobody spoke of the woman’s grudge for her own daughter.

The king let out a loud sigh before continuing, “Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown… then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly.”

Everyone at the table had gone silent with awkward glances around the table to one another before Rhaenyra had moved to stand up, “I wish to raise my cup to Her Grace, the Queen. I love my father. But I must admit that no one has stood… more loyally by his side than his good wife. She has tended to him with… unfailing devotion, love, and honor. And for that, she has my gratitude… and my apology.” She seated herself back down before Illia’s own mother stood, “Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess. We are both mothers… and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow. I raise my cup to you… and to your house. You will make a fine queen.”

The table seemed to be at peace until Jace had slammed the table and jumping from his seat, a certain glare at Aegon. He quickly grabbed his glass and held it up for a toast. “To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond, we have not seen each other for a few years but I do remember the fond memories in our shared youths, and as men – he paused for a moment before continuing – I hope we can see eye to eye and place any harmful intentions behind us to possibly be friends and allies for our families good health, dear uncles.” A smirk had played on his face before sitting himself down.

Illia had let out a quiet giggle at his joke. Unaware of Aemond’s small glance at her. Attention had been changed to Helaena who had stood herself up. “I would like to toast to Averillia and Rhaena. They’ll be married soon. It isn’t so bad. Mostly he just ignores you… except sometimes when he’s drunk.”

Illia had realized what her words meant and quickly drank her glass of wine. Music started to play in the background as her heartbeat was in her ears. Would her father have her marry at three and ten as they had done with Helaena? Will she have to carry heirs at such an early age? Will she perish just as Lady Laena did in childbirth?

A hand poking at her wrist had changed her attention to the man next to her, Jace was standing there holding out his hand to her. She took his hand as he quickly guided her to the open area of the floor. “Are you feeling well?” He asked her as they walked. She gave a quick nod with her head before the dance started. They spun around and taken little hops together to the song that played. He also in the moment taken to catching her waist and spinning her around in a few fast circles in which the girl had burst into giggles.

A bang had paused any movement in the room. The young couple had stopped dancing to see Aemond standing having all the attention drawn to him. “Final tribute.”

“Aemond.”

“To my sister and nephew, Averillia and Jacaerys. They are to be married soon, let us drain our cups to my sisters health and usefulness in delivering him healthy and… strong boys.” “I dare you to say that again.” Jace had straightened himself out putting Illia behind him. “Why? ‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think my foolish sister won’t be able to understand even the act of making a child correctly?”

That was the final straw for Jacaerys when he walked up and landed a blow right to Aemond’s jaw. He hadn’t moved but he pushed Jace backwards a few steps. Aemond was ready to throw his punch into Jace’s jaw but Illia had gone to try and catch her betrothal and instead caught Aemond’s fist to her forehead. The young couple had been knocked to the stone floor. Baela had been quick to jump from her seat and come to Illia’s aide as Jace jumped right back onto his feet, bring the unbalanced Aemond to the ground and was quick to get a couple hits back. Daemon and a guard had grabbed the dragon prince and pulled him off the one eyed prince. The boy wiggled free from the men’s hold and went straight to his betrothal.

“Cease this fighting at once!” The king had yelled aloud to the room. “To think that you’ve all grown you yet still act like children! It shall be final. Jacaerys Velaryon and Averillia Targaryen shall be married a moon after her six and tenth nameday. No later. Aemond Targaryen shall be sent to reside on Storms End until the wedding. I will not allow theses acts of violence to continue occurring in my own home.” King Viserys of house Targaryen had fallen back against his chair in exhaustion.

Back in her chambers the princess was being closely looked at by her lady in front of her vanity. “Elina I am fine! Please stop fretting over me.” “Illia you had been hit to the floor by your own brother, back home my brother would have had his hand cut off for striking his own sister.” Illia had rolled her eyes at her friend, “Well the boy already is missing his eye. You can’t take a limb from the man too. Now please just let me go to bed, it’s late.” The girl had let out a huff before agreeing to the girls pleas.

Illia watched her walk out the door before she started to undo her own hair from the elaborate style Elina had put it in. The girl went to take out the blasted dangling earrings that caused her great discomfort before a knocking sound was heard. She turned to the door, not expecting a visitor for how late in the night it was. She opened the door to find no one in the corridor. She closed the door unsure why a knock had been heard. Not a step later, another knock was heard. She opened the door quicker and found not a single soul again. She walked to her wardrobe and opened the double doors to find only gowns and cloaks hanging. Averillia let out a huff in annoyance. For the night she has had, she was especially not in the mood for jesters.

“Did you know it’s rude to not answer your betrothal when he knocks upon your wall?”

The princess had turned around quickly to find Prince Jacaerys in her chambers leaning against her bed post still in his attire from dinner.

“What. The. Fuck.”

“I did not know that my betrothal used such vulgar language.” He had a smirk upon his face at her utterly shocked face.

“How the fuck did you get in here?”

“The wall?”

He moved and pointed to the corner of the room where a chair had now been moved. A corner with two stone walls.

“The wall? I may have been hit in the head but I am not a dimwitted fool, Jacaerys Velaryon.”

The boy had rolled his eyes at her attitude and walked closer to the girl. He reached into her wardrobe and pulled out a black cloak. “Put this on.”

“Why?”

“Must you ask so many questions?”

The girl had listened to him and thrown the cloak on, it covered her entire body with arm hole slits in the front. She had finished tying the cord around the neckline to find him leaning against the stone wall in the corner.

“Do you trust me?”

“What?”

In an instance he had opened the wall as if it was a door and had gone through. Illia was fast to approach him and walk through. She looked around before the door closed behind her.

“Follow me.”

The pathways lead the couple all the way outside the castle to a open plain of grass. “How did you know about those tunnels?” “I had found them before we left for Dragonstone.” A sudden sound of two dragons landing had made the girl turn to see both Vermax and Silverwing waiting for the couple. “Would you care to go on a dragon fly with me to the little islands?”

“Race you!”

The princess had shoved the prince back before taking off into a sprint to her own dragon.

“No fair!”

The dragons raced through the cloudy night sky across the open body of water towards the collection of small islands. They were to small of land for anyone to live but the dragons seemed to enjoy resting on the islands during their flights. Averillia and Silverwing had beaten the boys to the island in record time. Vermax let out a little huff of fire when he landed, obviously the dragon had known he’d been beaten and wasn’t happy about the lost. “You cheated!”

“I did not! You’re just a sore loser!” Illia had screamed back to the prince at his accusation towards her. The prince was fast to grab the girl and tickling her restlessly. “Jace no! Please don’t! I am sorry! Please no!” the boy had gotten on top of the girl and tickled her sides relentlessly while she begged him to stop. “You have to admit you cheated and then I shall cease the tickling.” “Anything else! Please!”

“Ok fine, You have to kiss me than!”

“What?!”

“Those are your only options, Princess. Either admit your wrongs or kiss me, that’s the only way you are getting yourself out of here.”

The girls giggles sounded louder as he kept tickling her. “Okay! Okay I surrender!” Jace had stopped his hands for one moment to look at her. The blonde princess had wiggled herself to sit upon her bum and grabbed his face and placed a kiss on his cheek. It had been a quick peck upon his cheek, but still a kiss none the less. He had frozen up still at the girls kiss and stared her in the eyes. The moon which started to shine through the clouds shined right upon her. Jace had thought she looked of a goddess in the moonlight, her hair was a beautiful golden color as if a halo around her and her eyes had almost shined pale purple in the light. He had taken her all in and noticed how milky pale her skin was, it looked to be a soft feeling. Her neck looked as if every breath she took was going to break her, her shoulders went up with every intake of breath she took and down with every outtake. She had been leaning back on her hands which exposed her chest in fuller view, He had seen her lower cut dress at dinner but he did not seem to mind, especially not now. Her breasts looked as if they were to spill out from her gown with how much father the gown had been pulled down. He knew it was not polite to stare, especially with how many times his mother had enforced that rule but gods how could he not. She looked of utter radiance and she was to be his, and his alone.

Illia wondered if the prince above her was feeling well. He had been staring at her for a few good minutes without staying a word. “Jace?” The boy had rested his palm against her waist before following the seam of her bodice up to her bust, her neck, and ending on her jaw. “Jace? Are you feeling well?” He had taken his other hand and held the back of her head. “Jace? What are you doing?” her hand held his wrist that was on her jaw. He was freaking her out with how hard he was staring at her. “Do you trust me?” His eyes jumped between her eyes and lips as she gave a slow nod. He didn’t hesitate to bring her lips to his. It was an awkward feeling for the girl, having never kissed or been kissed by anyone before. Slowly she relaxed and had started to enjoy the feeling.

Jace was far to excited to function properly. Her skin was indeed soft, most likely the softest thing the prince had ever felt. Her lips had a comforting warmth to them that he does not think he could find anywhere else. He had inevitably pulled away from her to catch his breath. The girl under him was truly the most beautiful thing ever in this world. Without any hesitation, he again pulled his hand that was tangled in the back of her hair to him in another kiss. He had laid her down in the dirt once more and continued kissing her. His hand moved from her hair down to her waist as her hands had moved to his bicep and his own hair. She had pulled him deeper into the kiss with a small moan escaping her mouth. Jace had felt his trousers tightening at just her simple sound, if he could he’d never wish for her to stop that sound. He had felt her break away from him and quickly flipped him so he was the one in the dirt and she was on top. He pulled her closer by her waist and brought his lips to her jaw, her neck, her clavicle, and end at her breasts. As soon as his lips touched her gown collar, she had thrown herself from his lap and pushing his upper body straight back into the dirt.

She had been only a foot away from him when he sat up, her chest was breathing rapidly, her hair had been a mess, her eyes wide like a doe, and her lips swollen covered in her own spit. “Illia, oh gods. Illia I am sorry, I did not mean for it to be taken so far, and it was not even my intents to bring you out here just for that. I just wanted one moment alone with you before we go back to Dragonstone on the marrow. I-“

“You’re leaving again? But you’ve only just arrived?”

In Jace’s rambling she had herd the words that made her heart sink into her stomach. Tears had welded into her eyes at the sudden news. “You’re supposed to be here for five more days? Why are you leaving me again?”

“Mother thinks its best considering Aemond’s temper.”

“Take me with you! Do not leave me here with those awful people! Do not leave me, Jace! Please do not leave me again!”

The tears had started to consistently stream down her cheeks. “Illia, please do not cry. I can not stand to keep watching you cry like this. I do not want to leave you so soon either. I had begged my mother to take you but she knew it wasn’t possible. Your mother wouldn’t have allowed it.” He crawled over to the girl to try and console her. She had attached herself to him, hoping holding him longer will make him stay.

They sat in that spot for hours that night trying to find comfort in the departure between the two but there was none.

Jacaerys Velaryon, the dragon prince and Averillia Targaryen, the simple princess were once again pulled apart from one another once dawn had broken though over the sea line.

endnote: Thank you everyone for reading! The next part shall take me some time to write but if you’re still interested in reading the story please like or reblog to bring you back to them! (Did you guys also see the Epic reference I put in??? I believe it’s the most fitting lyric in the entire musical) also I had changed Jace’s appearance in this time frame, I love my man but the curls eat more then his season one wig. The finale part to this trilogy shall be released sometime at the end of next week or two!

[kaleldobrev]

The One Bed, Two People Problem (2) — The 15 Year Problem Series

Pairing: MOC!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Feat. Character(s): Reader & Dean Winchester

Series Summary: Needing help on a poltergeist case, you ask fellow hunter Sam Winchester for help. Despite having a broken arm, Sam agrees to help you. But, just as he’s about to head out and meet you, Dean tells him that he’ll take his place and help instead.

Chapter Word Count: 1.8k

Chapter Warnings: Cursing (2x), Age Gap (15 years), Sexual tension, Slightly vulnerable Dean, Self-Loathing Dean & Implied sexual fantasies (very minor)

Authors Note: A prequel series to the Old Man Universe (OMU) on how Dean and reader met | Takes place a few days after Dean is cured from being a demon in 2016 (please read this post for reasonings why it’s 2016, not 2014) | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

⋆ The 15 Year Problem Masterlist ⋆

⇠ Go Back & Read Chapter 1

"One room please," Dean said, as he plopped down his credit card onto the desk in front of the motel worker: a big grin on his face.

The worker looked at him tiredly and picked up the card. Looking at the name on the card, he looked at Dean, who maintained the same smile. "John Paul Jones?" He asked, his voice matching the tiredness in his eyes. "Like the dude from Led Zeppelin?"

"I get that a lot," Dean stated, trying to sound convincing, despite the motel worker probably not needing to be as he looked tired enough as it is. The worker nodded and started putting Dean's information into the computer; Dean swayed back and forth on his heels, looking around the motel lobby, not enjoying the awkward silence that was between the two. "It's a good thing I'm a Zepp fan," he added, a bit of humor in his voice, as he attempted to make awkward small talk with the man.

"Huh uh," the worker mumbled, not seeming interested in having any sort of conversation with Dean, as he was trying his best to concentrate on what he was doing, as the lack of sleep and pulling all-nighters the last couple of nights was starting to catch up to him in this moment.

Dean started to get slightly nervous, as the worker seemed to be taking a little bit more time than usual to be placing the information into the computer. "Is there a problem with the card?" Dean asked, after the motel worker started making a face that looked similar to confusion.

The worker shook his head. "Nah man. Just tired. It's my third night shift in a row and it's been a killer. Can barely keep my fucking eyes open. But I'm thankful to be doing anything at least. You're the first person I've seen in days, since the regulars haven't even come by." Dean decided not to ask about who or what the regulars were, but he would be lying if he wasn't the least bit curious.

"Surprising," Dean said. "Thought you'd get more on-going business being right on the highway like this. I mean, I've been to Tulsa a few times, and it's always pretty lively, even this time of night."

The man scoffed, almost chuckling at his words. "People don't like motels like they used to. They rather stay at the Holiday Inn down the street. Apparently, motels give people the creeps now," he said, rolling his eyes. "Too much shadiness I guess for people."

"I've stayed at more motels than I can count, and uh, they basically feel like home to me. They've never once given me the creeps," Dean told him, partially telling the truth, as he has stayed at plenty of motels over the years that have had questionable stains and clientele more times than he could count.

The worker nodded, handing Dean back his card. "Alright, we have one room available with a queen," he said.

Dean gave him a semi-puzzled look, unsure how true that really was, as the worker just said that he was the only person he's seen in a few days, and the parking lot was essentially empty besides his and who he assumed to be this man's car. "Nothing with two beds?" Dean asked. He didn't mind sharing a bed with you, but he wanted to get two to be safe, as he was afraid that he'd somehow hurt you in the middle night if he had one of his PTSD style nightmares he occasionally got, more often than he'd like to admit.

"Look, I have one room left. And that one room has one bed that you're either going to have to share with your guest, or one of you is sleeping on the floor," his voice had no hint of tiredness anymore.

"One bed it is," Dean said, his lips forming into a fake smile.

"And you're in room three," the worker smiled, handing Dean the room key.

After getting off the phone with your boyfriend, you hit your head repeatedly against the headrest, frustrated that you had let him get to you again. He was hours away, and yet, he had managed to re-anger you, which was something that you were close to getting rid of during your nice and peaceful drive here.

In addition to your re-anger, you were minutes away from meeting someone new, and there was a part of you that felt bad for Dean, because being angry and mean was the last thing you wanted as your first impression. "Okay, you got this," you whispered to yourself, taking a few breaths before exiting your truck.

Walking out of the motel lobby, Dean started thinking of ways in which he was going to break the cliche news to you, as a one bed for two strangers seemed like something that came straight out of a chick flick or romance novel. "So bad news, we have to share a bed because for some reason despite the motel parking lot being empty as fuck, there was only one room that had a single bed in it," he thought to himself, cocking his head, thinking how saying that to you might work. Then again, he didn't want you thinking that he got a room with a single bed on purpose because you were a chick, and hoping to get lucky. Then again, he certainly wasn't against it...Then again, Sam told him that you had a boyfriend and you were off-limits.

As he started walking toward the room to put his stuff inside and examine the room, he looked at the parking lot, and noticed another vehicle had pulled into the lot since he had come into the motel; and it was parked a few spaces away from Baby. It was a Generation Seven, F150, in a brownish beige color that looked to be in brand new condition.

And that's when he saw you, or at least he hoped it was you, pulling out a large duffel back from the truck bed, that seemed to be a little beat up.

He started walking toward you, making a mental note to introduce himself just far enough way, because he wasn't sure how quick to the draw you were.

You sighed, grabbing your duffel, and slung it over your shoulder, as you were mentally preparing yourself to meet someone new. But you were tired, angry, and a little bit hungry; and all you really wanted to do right now was take a scolding hot shower and hit the pillow face first, instead of making awkward small talk.

"Hey, you must be Y/N," you heard a male voice say from a few feet away from you. Closing your truck bed, you noticed a blonde-haired man, who appeared to be a little over six feet tall, wearing a flannel and denim jacket similar to you, walking in your direction. This must be Dean, you thought.

"And you must be Dean," you said, when he was just a few feet in front of you. As he stood there, he leaned his arm on your truck bed, and stared at you with a smile that could easily melt the iciness that was inside your heart; you hoped that you weren't blushing. You're here to do a job, and you have a boyfriend, you told yourself.

"Nice truck," he complimented, as he patted the side. "Gen seven?" He questioned, but his tone insinuated that he already knew the model; he just wanted to see if you knew. And of course you did, as this truck was one that you had practically re-built over the course of a single summer without barely any help.

You nodded, and smiled at him, practically grinning from ear to ear; your smile was breathtaking. "He sure is. I practically re-built him over the course of a single summer before I started hunting. You should have seen the shape he was in; the whole body was practically rust," you explained.

Dean listened to the way you spoke about your truck, and he admired it, as it was similar to the way he would speak about Baby. But the way you spoke about the truck was not the only thing he was admiring; he was admiring the way the denim jacket you were wearing was slightly falling off your shoulders because of how big it was, as if you had borrowed it from someone Sam's size. Even though it was still slightly dark out, and the harsh yellow lighting was doing nobody any favors, you still somehow looked absolutely gorgeous in this lighting. Your skin looked so smooth, except for a few scars that he noticed in several places. He couldn't help but wonder the stories behind them. You're here to do a job, he reminded himself.

"That's pretty impressive that you re-built him without any help. Not a lot of people can do that," he said, trying his best to pay you a compliment. "Especially since you taught yourself."

"Yeah. My dad knows some stuff about cars, but he's no expert or anything. My best friend was the one who..." your voice trailed off, and you slightly had a blank stare on your face, as if you were reminiscing about something.

"I've re-built Baby more times than I could possibly count," he said, pointing at her for a moment before turning back to you. Your blank stare finally fading.

"When Sam told me, I honestly didn't believe him. You must be really good with your hands," you said, with a slight hint of...was that...flirting? Were you flirting with me? Dean thought. No, there's no way.

He chuckled a little. "I'd like to think so." I'd do anything to put my hands all over you....he thought. "Oh, um, since I got here first," he began, attempting to change the subject before his brain started to create some fantasies. "I was able to get us a room. But, there's only one bed, so we either have to share, or one of us is going to have to sleep on the floor."

You felt your heart starting to race a bit faster now, and your throat was beginning to get a tad dry. Were you actually nervous about the possibility of sharing a bed with the eldest Winchester?

"I don't mind sharing a bed as long as you don't," you said. But as soon as you said those words, your brain was starting to create a moral dilemma. You have a boyfriend, this counts as cheating, you thought. No, it doesn't count as cheating, I don't plan on sleeping with him as much as I'd like to.

"I don't mind. But uh...just a heads up, I get um...nightmares," he said, sounding hesitant.

"It's okay, I get them too," you reassured. "Want to head inside then and see if we can get a few hours before we go to the station tomorrow?"

Dean nodded. "Sounds good to me," he smiled.

⤑ Move Forward & Read Chapter 3

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[victimsofyaoipoll]

Finals

Propaganda Under Cut

Sakura Haruno

Her husband is gay and her author doesn't know how to write women. So many people say she's the worst but she. DESERVES. BETTER!!! Save her from this franchise.

My baby girl my bestie my best friend. She committed the crime of um being written by kishimoto who both doesn’t know how to write women and somehow writes men in the gayest way possible specifically naruto and sasuke. Like the thing is naruto and sasuke ARE gay and also she gets so much hate for the crime of kishimoto writing her one dimensionally in love with sasuke. I know her personally she is a butch lesbian to me just trust me she’s in love with Ino and has a lesbian thing going on with Karin okay just trust me. My everything. She needs to divorce the loveless lavender marriage she’s in 

What is there to say, even? The OG Threat to my 90s anime brain, the only woman I've ever hated with such a passion she made me turn away from the color pink. I used to write fics with my friend where she got left behind on purpose so our OCs could join the Naruto and Sasuke team instead. I loathed this bitch until I was 16 and realized the author simply couldnt write women and decided it was time to make peace with Sakura. It is not her fault she's vaguely written and obsessive over Sasuke. She deserves better. Sasuke and Naruto still should be together and Sakura shouldnt be with Sasuke but I no longer believe this because I hate Sakura, it is because I love her. She deserves a spouse who will actually put in the time to treat her like the hero she is.

Misa Amane

she gets treated in-canon the way fandoms treat female characters that Threaten an m/m ship. it's like, "oh why don't you go sit in the corner and be pretty, misa, while the Men have intelligent conversation and pretend they aren't ten seconds from fucking each other, doesn't that sound nice?" it's infuriating. and MAYBE it's better now but i remember her getting treated the same way in fanfiction too, like we all need to do just as badly by our female secondary characters as fucking tsugumi ohba, but with the added insult of making her be alternately oblivious of the relationship between light and L or actively trying to sabotage it—incompetently, of course, because god forbid misa be allowed dignity or moments of cleverness.

she's one of the first characters I think of when I consider old school fandom misogyny. The annoying bitch and clingy crazy gf allegations were AFTER HER ASS. She's also a lot more intelligent than people gave her credit for, but most seem inclined to take the Very Biased word of our unreliable, narcissistic narrator and his homoerotic arch nemesis and claim that just because she's bubbly and into romance that she's also a complete moron. Which is blatantly untrue. Everyone was afraid of Misa girlbossing too hard. Killing people and devoting yourself to the deranged twink of your dreams even though you know he'll never love you back??? Having a hardcore goth aesthetic and being so Hot even literal Death Gods are into you?? God forbid women do ANYTHING!

Not only is she the victim of yaoi culture, she is the victim of early 2000s misogyny by an author that wanted to introduce a girl character because he knew his male rivals were getting too homoerotic. She is a goth bimbo icon who portrays what I think is one of the few callouts for stan culture and what parasocial relationships can do to both the stan and the idol. The fact that she is a toxic fan of Kira and also hot, funny, sociable is tragic in its own way, which I think the author did try to touch on but was too misogynistic too really get through. Of course, she was reduced to villain status by the fandom and anime alike because she got in the way of the supposed romance in their psychological horror anime

[diejager]

...i mean i have plenty of dark ideas with makarov but i mean... i kinda want to know on your thoughts with makarov and a reader who's equally dark/cunning. match made in hell basically

котёнок (A/n):I read a bit about him, but I can’t say that my portrayal of him is faithful to the game.

A fucking match made in hell. He doesn’t love easily, nor does he devote himself to someone as much as he did with Zakhaev often, but once he does give you this deluded level of love and devotion, it’s yours until he dies. In his mind, anything goes, shooting his only friend, bombing civilian areas to kill off one enemy, or trafficking as a source of money. Vladimir Makarov had no limit when it came to what he believes in.

He might be unpredictable with his acts and strict with his decisions, but that - by no means - meant that he didn’t like to play games, despite everything that went on in his life, Makarov loved games. He liked playing with his enemy, making it seem like they were ahead of him, only to disappear, being ten feet ahead. But then you appear, foiling his plans left and right, seeming to play right into his hands, moving as he predicted, only to outplay him, smirking his way as you strut away. He was mesmerized, the sight of the woman who had tricked the devil, clad in black and smile as sinfully cunning as his.

Makarov called you his котёнок —his kitten. He watched you in admiration, hungering for any moment with or against you, a gem in the corrupted world he lived in. He loathed that you weren’t working with him, standing beside him with that beautifully, cruel sneer you gave anyone who disappointed you. You didn’t follow the good or evil side, uncaring of who worked for the betterment of the world - he’d seen and heard you fucking up the 141’s attempts as you did with his - you only followed the wining side, the one who had the money to show and the hand to control it.

For months, he tried his luck, sending messages to you in many way, both nefarious and quiet, anything to contact you, anything to have you on his side; and when he had you working with him, striding to him in all your confident glory, he couldn’t be any prouder. Makarov had another asset up his sleeve, one more important than others, he cherished you, he devoted his time to you and he love you in his own twisted way.

If his котёнок wanted to play, he would play. He would back you up in every decision you mad, the jobs you took, the deals you signed. If you wanted to burn down the world, he would do it with you; if you wanted to bomb a public building, he would provide you the explosives; and if you wanted a hand in rebuilding the world in your image, he would help you, lead the men that worked under him and push your ideals.

Makarov didn’t just love you, he was obsessed, addicted —he was devoted to your being, cunning and devious. He might pull a few strings in the dark, but you were a danger on your own, giving your rivals and enemy a run for their money, and he loved that. You controlled the room when you sat down, your nails cackling on the table eerily as you stare down the people across from you, eyes narrowed and lips pursed, a stoic mien before cowering men.

He would sometimes stand behind you, acting as the looming shadow that added to your scary image, or he’d take up the seat beside yours, head tilted up with his arms crossed, the image of a confident tyrant, poised and powerful. You were a dark pleasure, sly and opportunistic, and he, a wicked and cunning man, portraying his ideology through his spread of terror.

“My sweet, sweet kitten,” he whispered in Russian, pressing his lips to yours, kiss feverish and rough, all teeth and domination. “Tell me, what is it you want?”

Tag list: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973

[bratdotcom]

He Needs Me!

swansea x coworker!reader ⋆ an au where you're his coworker

⋆ tags : coworkers/friends(?) to lovers, slowburn, angst(?), mutual pining

word count : 2k+ ( and proud !! ^^ ) ⋆

Swansea wonders why he was doing this.

Holding two mugs of warm coffee in his hands. He promised to keep the pot hot for you. He even said you made the brew better than he ever could.

He felt...soft.

There were many things Swansea was known for. Being soft wasn't one of them.

He voices his thoughts out loud to himself in the empty kitchen. "What the fuck am I doing..?" He sighs tiredly, putting both mugs on the counter with a soft clink as he awaits your return.

You were both playing with fire, doing this.

Crossing the line between decorum and affection. Genuine human connection in the cold, unforgiving vacuum of space. How cliche.

Swansea remembers the smile on your face when he praised your coffee making skills, the way you stretched out your arms to put away the tub. If it weren't for the knot in his back, he probably would've helped you.

"Where the hell is.." Before he can finish his sentence, you step into the kitchen. Smiley, as always.

He never could wrap his head around how you could be so...happy all the time. It reminded him of a certain someone he couldn't put his finger on.

The scowl on his face softens, ever so slightly.

"Finally, you're here. Jesus." Swansea huffs, crossing his arms over chest. "If I wanted to wait this long, I would have pulled out a chair myself."

He pushes off of the counter with a heave, two lukewarm mugs of coffee in his hands. "Here." He says gruffly, shoving a mug into your hand without question.

"Thanks for waiting for me." Is all you say in response, smiling at him gladly. Swansea bites back a mean comment to say, not wanting to unintentionally hurt your feelings.

"Always seeing the good in everything, don't ya, sunshine?" He uses the nickname sarcastically, he could practically see the energy radiating off of you. He further emphasizes his sarcasm with the usual frown he had accompanying his features. Deep set wrinkles tugging down his lips.

You take a long sip from your mug before responding. "I saw some hot packs in the med bay. Maybe Anya will let me nab some later."

You were so...caring. It made sense to him, you being the ship cook and all. You added a human touch that most of the crew missed while on the Tuplar.

He didn't get why you focused more on him than the others.

Him, of all people.

Swansea follows you to the dining table, setting down his aching muscles with another sigh. He looks at you with tired eyes.

"I never ask you to do things for me, you know."

"Well, you never complain about my cooking." You say back, smiling as you drink your lukewarm coffee. Is that all you do? Smile and slave away in a kitchen?

He shakes his head and looks away, eyes focusing on a corner of the room to keep himself from thinking about the way you looked at him. He had to keep it together. He wasn't the touchy type.

He had enough self-loathing in him to believe that anyway.

"What do you even do in that shower anyway? You were in there long enough for the coffee to get all shitty." His words were harsh, but he meant them with the utmost care possible.

He wanted to hear you talk again. Your voice was better on his ears than the hums of the ship he constantly heard throughout the workday.

You answer with your mug held to your chest, knees folded against the edge of the table."Oh, I was washing off the curry stains on my uniform." Swansea's mind circles back to the lunchtime from earlier, Daisuke accidentally spilling his leftovers on you. That kid needed to watch where he was going, but Swansea wasn't planning on being the one to tell him that.

His eyes steel on you. "Quit sitting like that. You're gonna pull a muscle or somethin'." He pokes your knee with the pad of his fingertip, his elbow against the wood of the dining table. Worn down and old, just like the rest of the ship.

"Sorry, sorry." You apologize with a chuckle, now sitting properly in your seat. Swansea rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath.

"Be careful next time." He says, fingers wrapped around the curve of his mug. He meant his words, he really did. Even though they came out mean. He couldn't control it.

Another thing he wished he could control was the way his eyes settled on you. Drawn to you like a moth to a flame. There was a reason why he avoided you like the plague.

"I fixed the sink like you asked." He says, silencing himself with a long sip from his mug. God, in the corner of his eye, he could see the appreciation written all over your face. "Good as new." He adds, lower back still hurting from kneeling down and fixing the sink on his own, without the help of his intern.

Some people were just better off by themselves. Including him.

"As good as this ol' girl can get, anyway." He's almost down to his last drops of coffee now. He wonders if you'll still want to talk to him after this. After everything he was doing to try and push you away.

"Thanks a ton, Swansea. I owe you a bunch." He was just doing his job.

Hearing you thank him for his work made his chest feel warm. He'd be damned if he wasn't lying to himself.

His beer belly presses against the table as he speaks. Swansea leans in closely. "You don't owe me anything." He replies, his much rougher hand almost inching towards yours. Tentatively, he pulls away.

In contrast to his, your hand was smooth. Barely noticeable scratches, marks of merit from your work. Feeding the hungry mouths of the crew, using your own heart and skill.

He appreciated you more than you thought.

"You work too hard, Swansea." Your hand slides closer to his.

His eyes drop slightly past the tired bags of his eyes. He sees how close your hand was to his.

"I work enough. You don't have to give a damn for a man like me."

Swansea almost wants to pull away, but something about this moment feels right to him. It's been...so long since he's had a proper conversation. Where someone cared for him. Worried for him. He heard the way you spoke.

"You're not just any man. Not to me."

He had to go now. Now or never. He was in too deep.

Swansea squares his shoulders, cup barely empty. He gets up to leave but feels something tugging on the back of his shirt.

Your hand.

"Don't go. Don't leave me here alone." You plead. "I'll pour you another cup of coffee. I'll do anything." You say, and as you say that, Swansea searches your eyes for something. Something more than just worry for a fellow employee's work-life balance.

He stays.

His rough hand gently removes yours from his shirt. The gruffness in his voice softens.

"You don't have to do that to make me stay." He says, going back to his seat.

He almost wants to take your hand again. The distress in your eyes was as clear as day to him. You were hurt.

He had to know what was wrong. All these years of working with you, and he had nothing to show of it besides pushing you away and keeping himself barely out of reach. Enough to talk but never to touch.

"I have something to tell you. Please don't go. Please." The shake in your voice makes him sink further into his seat. He wasn't planning on going anywhere. Not until you told him what was wrong.

Swansea has to choose his words carefully now. He didn't want to make things worse. The fatigue in his eyes meets yours.

"Tell me what's botherin' you and I'll lend an ear. I ain't going nowhere."

His words hang in the air alongside the mechanical hums of the ship.

"Trust me."

Swansea places his hand atop yours as he says that, reassuring you with the weight of his palm against your own.

He was holding your hand now. In his own way.

Fingertips against the pulse of your wrist. You could feel his heartbeat in between your fingers. Intimacy hidden behind subtle touches on wood coated lacquer.

"Tell me what's wrong." Swansea's voice softens more, his hand now around your wrist. He still keeps his hold on you to remind you that he's still there.

You can't bear to look him in the eye now, even if you always looked for him first. Your voice is low, almost merging with the Tuplar's sounds.

"They're.." You had no idea why you were drawing out your words like this. Making Swansea wait was a pain as much as it was to yourself.

His hold on your wrist tightens quietly as if he was trying to encourage you to continue on. Swansea was a prepared man. He knew the ins and outs of the line of work you both found yourselves in.

Your eyes were glued preemptively to the floor now as you finished your sentence.

"They're replacing me, Swansea."

Swansea stares at you quietly. Soaking in what you said.

It was inevitable, wasn't it? Their lives didn't mean as much as a rat's ass to the company.

He should've seen this coming. He knew how things worked around here.

He leans in attentively, his elbows now pressed against the table.

"Why?" He asks, genuinely wondering why the Pony Express would ever replace you. It would've made more sense to Swansea if they replaced him.

It should've been him, not you.

In his eyes, you did nothing wrong to deserve this. You never did. Sure, you acted stupid sometimes. But enough time on a piece of shit like this does that to a person sometimes.

You were the heart of the ship. You kept people fed. You reminded them of the home waiting for them. A taste of what they were leaving behind.

You pull your hand away, resting it on top of your shoulder. Forearm against the center of your chest. Right across your ribs.

You've thought of this moment over and over again in your head.

It was always harder to say something when the thing on your mind was right in front of you, wasn't it? You loved him more than you loved the job itself. You actively sought him out during his lunch breaks, secretly sliding him extras onto his plate when he liked the dish you made.

You didn't say it, but your actions were enough to show you saw him as someone more.

You didn't want to leave. Not yet.

A genuine frown plays on his wrinkles as you pull away. You still won't look him in the eye.

"I got the papers the first day we boarded. After this job is over, they plan on upgrading the living area with automated food giving machines." That was the fancy way to put it, using professional jargon the higher ups spoke in to hide the emotion in your voice. The uncertainty of what was to come for the both of you.

Finally, you look at him. Eyes wet with tears.

"I'm getting replaced by...by vending machines, Swansea."

Your arms tighten around your chest, your other hand against your sleeve, slowly closing in on yourself as if you were in acceptance of your situation. Like there was nothing you could do.

Vending machines. They were replacing you with vending machines.

Your last trip around the stars and you decide that he's the one you want to spend your final days and nights with.

He didn't know what was going to kill him first. You or the constant stress of never-ending work needing to be done.

And if he had to choose a way to die surrounded by the stars, he'd choose you.

The angry, confused tears start to well up in your eyes.

"Don't..." Swansea sighs to himself. Again, what the fuck was he doing? He should've left when he had the chance. Every signal in his body told him to leave.

But his legs didn't move.

It may have been selfish, but he didn't want to see you cry. He was all about tough love, but even he knew his limits.

He runs a hand through his short brown hair, smoothing out the strands as he thinks of what to do to help you. To comfort you.

Not as a coworker, but as a man.

"C'mere."

Swansea breathes through his nose, arms wide open for you to hug. He nudges the leg of the table out of the way to welcome you into his embrace without you being squished in between him and the piece of furniture. Another small way of showing how much he cared for you.

You were always on his mind, even without thought.

He wasn't always the best with words. By God, he was scared as you dragged yourself out of your chair and into his arms.

He can feel the beat of your chest against his. Your hearts connected together through the way you rested against his chest, his big arms wrapped around you almost protectively.

"I won't let them take you away from me." There was a tinge of vulnerability in his tone as he speaks.

He crumbles in your arms. The smell of your hair fills his lungs. The comforts of the kitchen mixed with your shampoo hit his senses in the best way possible. You fit perfectly against him, the palm of his hand in the small of your back.

"I'm here for you. Don't..." Swansea realizes what he's saying. His words were almost a confession. He didn't know what he was doing, but he knew he was giving you a promise.

A promise that he wouldn't leave, that he wouldn't let them take you away.

A promise that he'd keep.

With a calloused thumb, he wordlessly wipes away your tears. His gaze fully softened.

His hand comes to a still, resting against your cheek. He looks down at you quietly.

"You're worth more than ya think to the crew." The warmth of your skin mixes with his.

"And you're worth more than ya think to me."

You sniffle, finding comfort in his words.

"You know, I've always liked you." You smile at him, your fingers molding against the bone of his knuckles.

"You always cleaned your plate and never complained. You never had anything bad to say about my cooking." His eyes widen as you say your words.

He could disassemble machinery and put it back together himself as easily as he could tie his shoe. He knew the layout of the ship like the back of his hand.

And yet he didn't realize that you confessed to him hours before. You repeat what you said earlier, almost word for word.

His hand lowers down your cheek, thumb now thoughtfully pressed against the corner of your lip.

"I've always liked you too." Swansea confesses quietly, your hands travel further up his sides, to the planes of his shoulders. They settled there comfortably, as if that was where they were supposed to be all this time.

This was more than just camaraderie now. You were always more than just a friend.

"Can I kiss you?" Your thumbs caress along the fabric of his shirt.

A wry smile plays silently on his lips. Do you even have to ask that now? You just confessed your feelings to him. The feeling was mutual.

God, you were lucky that you were cute.

"Yes, sweetheart. You can kiss me." A deep chuckle leaves his chest at your words. He pulls you closer, encouraging you with a squeeze to the small of your back.

Gingerly, your hands find the collar of his shirt, you lean in to kiss him, pressing your lips against his. You tasted better than any bottle he's put to his lips in his life.

Swansea melts into the kiss. Years of yearning, words never said, all rolled into one. With the way you held onto him, it was like you never wanted this kiss to end. Like you never wanted to let go.

Finally, you pull away. Swansea smiles at you like a cocky idiot.

He gazes into your eyes, a look of love in them. A look that he wasn't going to forget any time soon.

"Never took ya to be such a good kisser, sweetheart." He comments, brushing your lower lip with his thumb.

[purple-writer8]

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart - ACOTAR

Eris x Rhysand’s Sister (Reader)

“I cry a lot but I am so productive. It’s an art.”

warnings: toxic man implied, abused eris, emotionally unavailable eris, depressed reader, broken up mates, angst

968 words

Masterlist :)

"Yes, I went to Day and reported the findings to Helion. Then to Thesan." You reported to your High Lord and Lady. Rhysand looked more than pleased, and Feyre could only gape at you in awe. 

"You did all that in a day?" She asked in shock, admiration gleaming in her eyes for you. You nodded, a tired smile adorning your face, "and the ball is all set for tonight." 

Feyre gaped along with her mate, they could hardly believe it. "You are a blessing, a real fucking blessing. Thank you, so much... you will get more than a hefty bonus in your next payment." Rhysand grinned, dark talons caressing your mind in a soothing way. 

You rolled your eyes at your brother, then asked, "why do you two always act like I'm some kind of miracle fae?" 

They glanced at each other, then back at you, and then pity overtook both their stares. You know why. You were supposed to be heartbroken, as you had just ended your betrothal to Eris Vanserra. The two of you were mates, but the abuse he had suffered from his father and the toxic familiar dynamics he had grown up in, made him less than emotionally unavailable. 

He was unable to communicate what he felt, all he could do was share his feelings through your bond. But that was not enough, not when he had commitment issues and acted like an ass to your family. The bond was strong, but your self-respect was stronger.  Especially when you knew what you were worth, being the Night Court's High Lord's sister and Princess of Velaris. 

"What happened with Eris... at the last ball... it was bad..." Feyre trailed, not wanting to exactly mention what had happened. It was fucking painful for you, you had broken your engagement in front of everyone. "And I saw you crying last night... and this morning before your mission..." she added. 

"I cry a lot, but I am still very productive. I can do my work with a broken heart." You replied with a simple shrug, much to Rhysand's dismay. You had always been like that, had always hidden your feelings and done your work even when you were breaking down.

“You’re a real tough kid.” He said softly, violet eyes eyeing you closely, “you complete all your missions seamlessly. You are an example to follow.” 

You chuckled dryly, “yeah, yeah, I am the best. Can I go get ready for tonight? I got the most beautiful dress and I want to try it on.” With that, the couple simply nodded and excused you. 

They were right to be impressed. You wanted to die, and yet— you were ready to shine that night, like every other night. 

Ready to show everyone lies. 

-

The ball in the House of Wind went off without a problem, and like every other night-- you were the center of attention. The gown you wore was magnificent, the light reflected off you in a majestic manner, almost as if you wore liquid starlight in your frame. You stood at the side of the bar with Azriel, watching as everyone arrived, sipping on a tall glass of champagne. You knew Eris was coming, you needed to drink before seeing him. 

"You look pretty," the shadowsinger said in a stoic manner, hazel eyes traveling up and down your frame swiftly. You smirked into your glass, "as do you." 

"Have you spoken to him?" He asked, and you knew he referred to Eris. Azriel cared, and he showed it, having known you since the moment you had been born-- he was protective of you. Especially because he loathed Eris with all his being. 

"Please, he avoids me like I am faebane," you snorted, the alcohol working its magic on you already. And you were grateful for it, because you almost choked when your eyes met the red - haired male that had once promised he would love you for his whole life. What a short life. 

You felt Azriel's eyes on you, his shadows coiling around your ankles in support as you watched Eris strut into the ball as if he owned it. He commanded the room, but that was normal. He was a magnetic force of a male. You looked at Azriel, seeking shelter in his hazel eyes-- the mating bond was tugging you to Eris, his presence was like a fire roaring inside your heart. 

You were about to break down, so you hit the dance floor. Dragging your sister-in-law from her seat next to your brother, you danced and danced. Feyre and you were always a force to be reckoned with when you partied together, and that night was no exception. You both were grinning as you danced, twirling about the Hall as if you were made of starlight. 

The crowd of fae chanted and cheered for you, and you could feel the pieces of your heart shattering on the floor. It was always like that. You were miserable, and no one even knew. You laughed as you danced with Feyre, as if you couldn't feel your mate's heartbreak from across the room. "Eris looks like he wants to die," Feyre whispered as if she could read your mind. 

"Yeah, but if I try to talk to him, he avoids me like I have fae plague," you snickered, your eyes finding the heir of Autumn. As soon as your eyes found his, they were looking away from you, as if he hadn't been watching you dance. You wanted to die, but instead you twirled and grinned as if you were having the time of your life. 

"Then let me talk to him," the High Lady offered, and you stopped your dancing, giving her a stern look. 

"I can handle my shit, Feyre." 

-

Author’s note:

This will probably have a part two because i love eris and i want him to be happy. Also ttpd has me in my feels soooooo probs a lot of angst coming ehfuhihoiqhioghhrueiuifio3iij4rijj

Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @sheblogs

[potchi-fics]

8 ball

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Bada and Y/n, for some reason, hate each others guts-- the two try and beat one another whenever they're in the same room. but what happens when the tension transforms into... something else? NOTE: there may be suggestive themes, or even full on nsfw🔞🔞.. i just wanted to give you all a heads up

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Y/n, one of the it girls on the campus. she has everything: money, money, good looks.. everything. one thing about her is she's not the innocent girl you think she looks. oh, no, she's a woman who will do anything to get her way, no matter what.

Bada, like Y/n, one of the it girls. she, too, has everything Y/n has. but she's a player-- she doesn't, or rather, won't care about your feelings. she oozes fuck girl energy.

and they both hate loathe each other.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Y/n and her friends are playing billiards, talking to one another happily, discussing about their stressing college life when Noze changes the topic to Y/n.

"so Y/n," dragging out the first word, "any updates on your love life?"

"please," Aiki snorts, "Y/n? love life? don't even bother-- ah shit!" by the looks of it, the cue ball fell in the corner pocket.

Y/n rolls her eyes playfully, "you're talking as if i'm not here, eh? and besides, i just haven't found my match." she pouts.

"oh, trust me," Monika quips remarks, "you have. by the way, you suck at this, Aiki."

the three only shared knowing looks while Y/n looks at them in confusion. she was about to ask what she meant when they hear a set of people take their place beside them.

Y/n face distorts into annoyance, only crossing her legs and staring at the other table.

"miss me?"

Bada.

She scoffs, "as if."

Bada confidently strolls to her, ignoring the group. "oh c'mon, i know you do."

"talking nonsense, baby," the petname only making Bada smirk, "you're self-projecting onto me.. you're being so obvious, Bada." Y/n's honey like voice tease her.

their moment gets ruined as they hear Chocol's voice from the other table. Bada winks at Y/n, and she gave her a flying kiss as a reply. Y/n looks back at her friends and they all stare with their eye brows raised.

"what?"

"nothing.." Monika answered.

Y/n grumbles. "what is it? tell me? and why does Bada have to choose a table beside us? there's like, plenty other tables."

Aiki and Noze shakes their head at her, "stop grumbling, you look like a baby. let's play!"

minutes pass by and her were all enjoying their stay; making jabs at each other whenever a shot doesn't work out. what Y/n doesn't notice is Bada throwing looks at her every 5 minutes.

"dude, stop staring at her." Haechi pokes fun at her, "we know you're in love and all, but seriously, play."

"i'm not in love with her," Bada denies. "stop saying that."

her friends only hums, resulting another comment from her.

"i'm being for real right now," Bada throws up a middle finger, "it's just so fun annoying her."

Chocol mumbles out, "yeah, that's how my grandpa and grandma met."

"oh, fuck off, Chocs." Bada groans while Haechi laughs her ass off.

a moment later and a woman walks in the place, she marches to where Bada's table is.

"oh! Redlic?" Chocs seem surprised.

Redlic clings to Bada, not even batting an eye to Chocol-- making Haechi and Chocol roll their eyes secretly.

"i missed you, baby." Redlic states, hugging Bada tighter.

Bada separates herself from her, "stop calling me that. you know i hate being called those."

"but if it's Y/n, you don't complain.."

"real, real."

hushed whispers from Bada's friends made her roll her eyes.

going back to Y/n and she is fuming. she hates that that woman keeps clinging to Bada. her stare was so intense that it looks like she's burning holes at the back of their head.

"relax, no one's gonna take your baby away from you," Aiki prods, "why so angry?"

she only roll her eyes and clicks her tongue, trying to focus her attention on the pool. "i'm not."

"enemies to lovers, 'm betting twenty-five dollars on that." Aiki added.

you did try to play, but you see that woman clinging to Bada in the corner of your eye, distracting you.

Noze stares at you in amusement, "how come you're still great at this even though you're distracted?"

"'cus sixty-five percent of her life revolves around this place," Monika remarks.

"then money, grades, coffee, and lastly.." Noze side eyes the other table, "Bada."

hitting the cue ball rather harshly, "you guys are crazy." she rubs the chalk cube against the tip of her cue, "my life does not revolve around her."

"it kinda does."

she only rolled her eyes for the millionth time today. before being able to strike the eight ball, Chocol comes over.

"hey, y/n," she raises her eyebrows at Chocol, "you wanna play against Redlic? the woman beside Bada. there's a bet going on right now, and you know.."

guess now you know her name.

"absolutely," Aiki answered for her.

Chocol nods her head and goes back.

Y/n hits Aiki's shoulder, "you didn't even give me time to think?"

"c'mon, don't you wanna beat Redlic?" her friend whines, "also, i wanna join the bet, so let's go."

Aiki drags them all to where a crowd is forming. she clicks her tongue once more, seeing how Redlic arm's wrapped around Bada's.

"you're the one playing against me?" Redlic cockily questioned.

Y/n simply nods, "yep."

"prepare to lose."

all Y/n could think was, is that all she can do?

Y/n shrugs, "we're wastin' everybody's time here, considering i'm only practicing."

Aiki shouts, "that's my chicken."

"that's right, i raised you like that!" Monika throws out.

and she sees Noze laughing and filming the whole thing. she also sees Redlic's face morph into irritation.

"you go first, i insist." Y/n comments, staring at Bada deviously at the end of her sentence.

Redlic is doing surprisingly well, knocking every ball she hits down the pockets. not forgetting to take shots at Y/n who only smiled and whistled. but on her third to the last ball, she missed.

"aww," she coos, her eyes drifting to Bada as she fixes the table. "that sucks."

Y/n winks at Bada, getting a smirk in response.

now, it was her time to show off. with every hit, every ball-- she mesmerised everybody watching, even Bada. with every ball that she puts in, fuels Bada.

down with the last ball-- the eight ball. she positions herself and fortunately, it was in directly in front of Bada. she bends over, not even caring that other people were seeing them. all she cares, right now, is to make Bada lose herself.

Bada's teeth sinks into her lower lip, her eyes roaming Y/n's body. she was so busy gawking at her that she doesn't hear the crowd exclaiming as Y/n won. hell, she doesn't even notice Redlic storming out of the place.

the crowd disperse but Y/n turns around to face her. she sees Y/n sit on the pool table, beckoning her over.

"enjoyed my show?" she let Bada go between her legs.

Bada puts her hands on the girl's hips, putting her face dangerously close to Y/n. "mhm.."

the air around them suddenly becomes thick, tension building up rapidly. Y/n's fingers massages Bada's nape and her thumb swiping Bada's lower lip.

her eyes lowers down to Y/n lips, "i loved it." she whispers.

"i can tell, baby."

slowly, Y/n pulls Bada towards her, and Bada lets her. just when their lips are about to touch, Y/n pulls back. Bada tries to chase her lips but she stops her.

"not yet," she murmured.

Bada breathed, "baby, why?"

"'cus i want to torture you." she kisses Bada's neck before pushing her away gently and walking to where her friends are.

Bada stares at you stunned as you saunter back to where your friends are because that's the first time that has happened to her.

"better luck next time, boss." Chocol pats her back.

Haechi snickers, "looks like you're the one who's gonna do the chasing."

deep down, she's more than okay with that.

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OPS OPSS🤚 no nsfw yet hehe hope you all enjoy

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

[omegalomania]

face in my hands. listen to me. no just. just listen. like. i think on the whole fandom tends to heavily mythologize what certain songs are "about" despite this never being solidly confirmed to be the case and fob (pete in particular) generally try not to say without question What Songs Are About because they want people to take whatever meaning they can from it. but from now on we are enemies is one of the exceptions to this rule to a very limited extent and by that i mean that on two separate occasions, during the hiatus, patrick and pete shared a little bit of what the song was about on twitter, independent of one another.

if you haven't seen the film amadeus it's about a rivalry between two historical composers, wolfgang amadeus mozart and antonio salieri. salieri loathes mozart and finds him supremely childish and annoying...but also irritatingly brilliant beyond words. salieri obsesses over wanting to see mozart fail and even plans on killing him, but they do eventually form a friendship. then mozart gets sick and dies. salieri essentially breaks and loses his mind and years down the line will claim that he murdered him.

the name of the song, "from now on we are enemies," is a direct quote from the film. but it's not talking about mozart. it's a furious diatribe that salieri flings at god himself. he's so wildly and deliriously envious of mozart that he feels like this is divine punishment and so he declares god his mortal enemy for bestowing mozart with such brilliance. from now on we are enemies, you and i.

this is, i should note, one of the last songs fall out boy wrote before the hiatus. this and "alpha dog" were considered "new" for the believers never die greatest hits compendium, but alpha dog was technically debuted before folie released, on the welcome to the new administration mixtape. then fall out boy went on hiatus and there was no guarantee of return.

like i dont know what to say about this song that hasnt already been said. its fucking deranged as all get out ill tell you that much. its fucking unhinged that this song, this song with this central thesis statement, is one of the last songs you wrote together as a band before going your separate ways without any guarantee that you would reform again. and it's THIS. IT'S THIS SONG. a song that laments about whether anyone will remember you when you're gone (reminds me of flu game, reminds me of so much (for) stardust the title track, reminds me of .... so many of the themes inherent to their eighth studio album. actually.), and a song that practically lays out its inspiration for all to see. for a band that seldom if ever discloses with actual intent the Meaning behind their songs, this is a song that discusses a HIGHLY FRAUGHT ARTISTIC RELATIONSHIP and it's hard, it's real damn hard, to see anything but what is clearly all on display. composer but never composed (patrick has always considered himself a composer first and foremost). singing the symphonies of the overdosed (pete played a song that was named after the drug he tried to overdose on with his band mere nights earlier). i'm just a man on a balcony singing no one will ever remember me (again there's the fear and dread about the legacy you leave behind just before the band goes their separate ways).

can't fucking lay out the sheer psychological damage this does to my soul just thinking about this. they played MISS MISSING YOU the night before. just, you know, one of the other Songs that's so hard to disentangle from the hiatus because of the way it was written (patrick wrote the music while making soul punk, felt like it wasn't for him, and set it aside...despite there being, again, NO guarantee that the band would ever reform at this point, and then the song was only completed once fall out boy decided to come back, with joe and andy adding instrumentation and pete adding the lyrics) and whose music video features patrick and pete literally KILLING EACH OTHER. from now on we are enemies. i need to walk into the ocean. i need to lie down. im inconsolable.