#so i was like stumbling over my words explaining the dragon thing

[dendroculus]

I BOUGHT THE DANGERWEED AGAINNNN

[realhotgirlshitah]

Hii, love your vlog!!!

So I was thinking about bimbo!reader giving hints to Ethan about how much she wants him, but him being clueless, because he doesn't think she can be into him. Until one day reader loss it and says something like 'can you stf an fuck me?!'

If you're not comfortable it's okay, no problem girl, just a brainrot ❤️❤️

Thanks for the request anon, I’m actually a slut so I had no problem writing this! Unfortunately I am also a lazy slut which is why it took me a week to release this, my bad!

Hints and misses 🎀💋

Warnings: Oral (fem and male receiving) facesitting, subby Ethan, missionary, riding, Ethan is a bit of a loser but he is also a MUNCH because I said so and my word is law.

You weren’t really the “studious” type, and everyone knew it. Sure, you just about passed your classes, but economics? Yeah, that wasn’t your thing. Honestly, you had no idea what was going on half the time. So when Chad suggested his nerdy roommate Ethan help you out, you jumped at the chance. Not because you were desperate to understand supply and demand curves, but because you had the biggest crush on Ethan. There was something about his awkwardness that you found absolutely irresistible.

It wasn’t just that he was smart—like, really smart—but he was the kind of guy who didn’t even realize how hot he was. Ethan Landry was a virgin in every sense of the word and had clearly never felt the touch of a woman and it turned you on beyond belief. The way he would stumble over his words, run his hands hurriedly through his curls when he was nervous, the way his cheeks flushed when you got too close to him… it was all too much. You had been flirting with him for months, making it blatantly obvious that you wanted him. But for some reason, he never seemed to get the hint no matter how hard you tried.

And trust me, you tried.

Hard.

For example, one night, the group was talking about “types” during a chill hangout. When Ethan made a self-deprecating joke about how “nerds aren’t usually anyone’s type,” you decided it was the perfect opportunity.

“I love nerds,” you declared, looking right at him, resting your hand on his arm for emphasis. “Like, so much. I mean, smart guys are, like, totally my thing.”

Ethan gave a shy smile. “Oh, that’s nice! Nerds are great, right? They’re super focused… like when they’re playing Dungeons & Dragons or calculating statistical probabilities.”

“Yes!” you said, inching closer. “I love a guy who’s, like, super focused… and intense… and maybe even obsessed, y’know?”

He grinned, eyes lighting up. “That’s awesome! You should totally play D&D with us sometime. It takes hours, but it’s so fun.”

You opened your mouth, ready to explain that the only dungeon you were interested in involved a certain bedroom vibe, but he was already lost in thought, excitedly talking about character stats.

Or that one time when you convinced Ethan to go for ice cream with you. You wore your shortest denim skirt and leaned in every chance you got, licking your ice cream cone with obvious intent.

“So, Ethan,” you said, licking the ice cream slowly and giving him a very suggestive look. “Do you like… really sweet things?”

He smiled, nodding enthusiastically. “Oh, yeah! I love sweets. Did you know the chemical structure of sugar is actually super interesting?”

You blinked, holding back a sigh. “Uh-huh… fascinating. But what if, like, someone sweet wanted to… share ice cream with you?” You held out your cone, winking.

Ethan just looked at you, confused. “But we have our own cones…?”

At this point, you just stared at him, open-mouthed, while Mindy fell off the bench laughing behind you.

“Oh fuck you, Mindy, go suck a dick or something,” you glared witheringly at your friend.

“I’m literally a lesbian but at this rate, I have a higher chance of sucking a dick than you have hooking up with Landry,” she snorted from the ground.

You were sick and tired of Ethan not catching your very blatant hints. You wanted that man and TRUST, you were going to have him.

You glanced at yourself in the mirror before he came over, adjusting your low-cut pink top, making sure it showed just enough cleavage. You tugged at the hem of your skirt, smirking at how short it was, and checked your lip gloss one last time. You weren’t here to actually learn anything tonight. You had a much better plan in mind.

When Ethan knocked on your door, you could already feel that familiar flutter of excitement in your stomach. You opened the door, beaming at him. “Hey, Ethan! Thanks sooo much for coming over to help me. I’ve been, like, totally lost in this class.”

He smiled nervously, awkward as ever, and adjusted the strap of his backpack on his shoulder. “Uh, yeah, no problem. Economics can be a bit tricky if you’re not used to it.”

You led him inside, swaying your hips a little more than usual, knowing full well he’d notice. His eyes flickered to your outfit for a split second before he quickly looked away, his face already turning pink.

“Let’s sit on the couch,” you suggested, sitting down with your legs crossed in a way that showed off just enough thigh. “I’ve got, like, all my notes, but I don’t really get it. You’re, like, sooo much smarter than me, Ethan.”

He sat beside you, setting his textbook on the coffee table, his fingers twitching nervously. “You’re not—uh, you’re smart. You just need someone to explain it differently.”

You blinked at him, twirling a strand of your hair around your finger. He was cute when he tried to be nice. “You’re sweet. But seriously, I don’t get any of this stuff.”

Ethan opened his book, flipping to a page covered in graphs. He started talking about supply and demand curves, how prices shifted when supply or demand increased. You were trying to focus—you really were—but the way his voice rumbled softly as he explained things, the way his curls flopped over his eyes every now and then, made it impossible for you to concentrate on anything other than how hot he looked.

You leaned a little closer, pretending to look at the graph he was pointing to. “Mmm, yeah, sure. That makes sense, I guess,” you mumbled, not even paying attention to what he was saying anymore. Your eyes were glued to the way his lips moved when he talked, and you felt heat pool in your stomach. You bit your lip, completely distracted by the way his hands moved across the page, how his fingers flexed as he explained some concept you were completely ignoring.

Fuck he was such a loser, you needed him CARNALLY.

“And so, when the price of a good increases…” Ethan continued, completely oblivious to your internal meltdown.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You had been dropping hints for months—months! And he still didn’t get it. He still thought you wanted his help with homework when all you really wanted was him. The frustration built up until you snapped.

“Ethan, can you shut the fuck up and just fuck me?”

The words left your mouth before you even realized it, and suddenly the room was dead silent. Ethan froze mid-sentence, his hand still hovering over the page, his eyes wide as he turned to look at you.

“Wait… what?” His voice cracked slightly, his face flushing bright red. He looked so bewildered, like he couldn’t believe what you’d just said.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed his wrist, pulling him closer to you. “I said, shut the fuck up and fuck me, Ethan.” Your voice was firm, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “I don’t care about this stupid homework. I’ve been dropping hints for ages, and you’ve been completely clueless! I’ve been waiting for you to figure it out, but you’re, like, so dense.”

His eyes widened even more, if that was even possible. He stammered, “But—but why would you—I mean, you’re… you’re you, and I’m just…”

“Oh my god, stop,” you interrupted, shaking your head. “You’re smart, you’re hot, and I want you. I’ve wanted you for months. How have you not figured this out?”

Ethan looked like his brain had short-circuited. “You… you want me?”

“Yes! Duh!” You were getting impatient now. “Look at me, Ethan. I don’t dress like this because I care about economics. I dressed like this for you. I’ve been flirting with you, touching you, sitting as close to you as possible, and you just… never got it.”

He blinked rapidly, looking completely dumbfounded. “But… I thought… someone like you would never want… someone like me.”

You groaned in frustration. “Why the hell not? You’re cute! You’re smart! And you’re, like, sooo sexy when you talk about all this stuff. Do you know how hot you are when you start explaining things? It gets my pussy so wet all I wanna do is fuckin ruin you!”

Ethan’s face was a deep shade of red now, and he still looked like he couldn’t quite believe what was happening. “I… I had no idea.”

“Well, now you do,” you said, your voice softening as you grabbed his hand and placed it on your waist. “So, what are you gonna do about it?”

He stared at you, his hand trembling slightly as it rested against your waist. “I—I don’t know what to say. I mean… I’ve never…”

You smirked, leaning in until your lips were barely an inch from his. “You don’t have to say anything, Ethan. Just kiss me.”

For a second, it looked like he was still processing everything, but then, finally, he leaned in, his lips crashing against yours. The kiss was messy, nervous, but filled with all the pent-up tension that had been building between you for months. You moaned softly into his mouth, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, pressing your body against his.

Ethan’s hands were tentative at first, unsure of where to touch, but you guided them, placing them on your hips and encouraging him to explore. His touch was hesitant, but it sent shivers down your spine all the same. He pulled away from the kiss, breathless, his eyes wide with wonder.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he murmured, almost to himself.

You grinned, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, “Believe it, nerd. Now, stop thinking so much and just fuck me.”

“Can I- can you- please teach me how to make you feel good?” The way the question filled the empty room caught you off guard, you weren’t expecting your innocent friend to ask something like that! But the grin that spread across your face was practically sinister. You wanted this bad.

Before he knew it, Ethan was being dragged to your bedroom, still in complete and utter shock at how this was happening and how your clothes were already coming off.

You lay back against the pillows, watching as Ethan hovered between your legs, his breath shaky but his eyes filled with a nervous determination. He looked at you, clearly waiting for more instruction, his fingers trembling slightly as they rested on your thighs.

You smiled, your voice soft but teasing. “Don’t be so nervous, Ethan. Just do what feels natural.”

He swallowed hard, then nodded, leaning down until his mouth was just a breath away from you. His first kiss against your skin was gentle, almost tentative, but the sensation sent a shiver of anticipation through you.

Ethan paused, his breath warm against you, then he dove back in, his tongue tentatively exploring you. His movements were slow at first, unsure, but you could feel how eager he was, how desperate he was to make sure he got it right. His inexperience didn’t matter—what mattered was the intensity of his focus, how every little sound you made seemed to spur him on.

“Just like that,” you moaned softly, your fingers tangling in his hair, guiding him. “You’re doing so good, baby.”

The praise seemed to light a fire in him. You could feel him getting bolder, his tongue moving with more confidence as he began to lose himself in the moment. He was so eager, so focused on your pleasure that it made your head spin. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he licked and sucked at your core, his pace quickening.

Ethan’s breath was coming in quick, desperate pants between strokes of his tongue. You could hear him whimpering softly against you, his lips wet and swollen from the effort, but he didn’t stop. In fact, he only grew more frantic as you moaned and gasped above him.

“Oh my god,” you whimpered, your back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure began to roll through your body. “Ethan… yes…”

His response was a low, needy moan that vibrated through you. His enthusiasm was overwhelming, his tongue moving faster, sloppier, as he became more desperate. He was whimpering between kisses, his grip on your thighs tightening, and you realized with a jolt that he was grinding against the bed, trying to relieve some of the tension building inside him.

“Fuck, you’re so good at this,” you gasped, your voice shaking as you felt the heat building inside you. “Keep going… don’t stop…”

Ethan let out another whimper, his tongue working you over with renewed intensity as you praised him. His hips rocked against the bed, his moans growing louder, more desperate. He was lost in it now—lost in your taste, in the feeling of your body responding to him, in the need to make you feel good.

“T-Thank you,” he mumbled against your skin, his words muffled by the wet sounds of his mouth on you. “You taste… so fucking good…”

You glanced down at him, breathless and dazed by the sight. His face was flushed, his lips glistening with your slick, and his eyes were heavy-lidded with lust. He looked completely wrecked, and it only made you want him more.

“Oh my god, Ethan,” you moaned, your fingers tightening in his hair as your hips bucked against his mouth. “You’re making me… oh fuck…”

He groaned in response, his movements growing even sloppier as he chased your pleasure with an almost frantic urgency. His whimpers were constant now, his entire body trembling as he worked himself against the bed, desperate for release. But even as he lost control, he never stopped focusing on you, on your pleasure.

You could feel the pressure building inside you, the heat coiling tighter and tighter with every stroke of his tongue. Ethan’s hands were gripping your thighs so tightly that you were sure there would be bruises, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was the way he was making you feel—the way his eagerness, his desperation, was pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Oh god, I’m gonna come,” you whimpered, your entire body trembling as you neared the brink. “Ethan, don’t stop…”

He didn’t stop. In fact, he only grew more frantic, his tongue working you over with a kind of raw desperation that made your head spin. He moaned against you, the sound vibrating through your body, and it was enough to send you spiraling over the edge.

You came with a loud cry, your body arching off the bed as pleasure crashed over you in waves. Ethan kept going, his tongue relentless as he worked you through your orgasm, his whimpers of pleasure blending with your moans.

But even as your body began to relax, as the pleasure ebbed, Ethan didn’t stop. He was still going, his tongue slower now but just as eager, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. You could feel him trembling, hear his soft whimpers, and when you glanced down at him, you saw that his lips were swollen, glistening, his eyes half-closed with lust.

“Ethan!” you finally gasped, tugging gently on his curls to pull him away, your own body still trembling. “You need to stop…”

But he looked up at you, completely dazed, his lips covered with your slick, and there was a desperate need in his gaze. “No, please,” he whined, his voice thick with desire. “I want more… let me do it again. Sit on my face, please.”

The words sent a fresh wave of heat through you, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, completely dazed. He looked unrecognisable—his hair messy from your hands, face smeared with your juices and his eyes blown wide with lust. And yet, he was still begging for more, desperate to make you feel good again.

You smirked, your heart racing as you considered his request. “You want me to sit on your face, huh?”

Ethan nodded eagerly, his hands already reaching for your hips. “Please,” he whimpered again, his voice filled with need. “I want to make you feel good… let me do it again. I need it.”

The desperation in his voice was almost enough to send you over the edge again right then and there.

You could see the desperation in Ethan’s eyes as you teased him, and it only made you want him more. He lay back on the bed, breathless and dazed, his chest rising and falling rapidly, lips still glistening from his relentless efforts. His eyes tracked your every movement as you slowly climbed back over him, hovering above his face, watching the anticipation build in those wide brown eyes.

“God, you really can’t get enough, can you?” you murmured, your voice sultry and teasing as you dragged your fingers gently through his messy curls. He whimpered, his hips already jerking up into the air in a needy, helpless motion, like he couldn’t control himself anymore.

You relented, lowering yourself down until you were back on his face, and the second he felt you against his lips again, Ethan moaned like a man starved. His tongue immediately dove back in, more eager than before, licking and sucking with reckless abandon, as if he was addicted to the way you tasted. He groaned against you, his hands gripping your thighs tight enough to leave marks, pulling you down harder against his mouth.

You bit your lip, suppressing a moan as you started to rock your hips against him. The way he moved beneath you, the way he whimpered and moaned like he was getting drunk off your taste, was driving you wild. He was a mess, absolutely lost in you, and you loved every second of it.

“You’re so fucking good at this,” you breathed, your voice trembling as pleasure built inside you once again. “It’s like you were made for it… made to make me feel good.”

Ethan whimpered in response, his tongue pressing deeper, flicking wildly against your clit. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t even think straight anymore. All he could do was focus on you, on the taste of you on his tongue, the feel of your body rocking against his face.

You felt the shift in him as you began to pick up the pace, grinding harder against him. His hips jerked up into the air, desperate for any kind of relief. But he had nothing to grind against, nothing to alleviate the intense need that was building inside him. He was humping the air, whining and whimpering beneath you, his body trembling with the sheer force of his desire.

“Poor baby,” you cooed, your voice dripping with mock sympathy as you looked down at him, watching his face disappear between your thighs. “You had no idea, did you? How badly I wanted this… how badly I wanted you.”

He moaned again, his hands trembling as they gripped your thighs harder, trying to pull you down further onto his mouth. He was completely lost in you now, his tongue moving sloppily but enthusiastically as you rode his face. And the way he was so desperate, so utterly consumed by your pleasure, only made you want him more.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been fantasizing about this,” you continued, your voice breathy and filled with lust. “I’ve thought about you so many times, Ethan. Thought about how good it would feel to have you between my legs, thought about teaching you… showing you everything.”

Ethan whimpered beneath you, his hips jerking up even harder, humping the air like he couldn’t help himself. His tongue flicked faster, sloppier, as he devoured you, his whole body trembling with the force of his desperation.

“You’re so fucking hot,” you moaned, your pace picking up as you rode him faster, your fingers tugging on his curls. “God, I never thought I’d be into nerdy guys, but you—fuck, you drive me crazy. I couldn’t stop thinking about you in class, about what it would be like to have you like this… to make you mine.”

Ethan’s response was another desperate, muffled moan, his lips swollen and slick as he licked and sucked at you with reckless abandon. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he was humping the air helplessly, completely lost in his desire for you. His eyes fluttered shut as he moaned into you, his whimpers growing more frantic the faster you moved.

“I’ve been fantasizing about you for so long,” you continued, your voice trembling with lust. “Every time we hung out, every time you were so oblivious to how badly I wanted you, it drove me insane. I wanted to drag you into my room and just… fuck you until you couldn’t think straight, until you knew my body better than any of those fuckass econ graphs.”

Ethan’s hips bucked wildly beneath you at that, his whimpers turning into needy, broken sounds as his tongue worked you over with even more desperation. He was completely at your mercy, unable to do anything but whimper and moan as you used him for your own pleasure.

“And now, you’re here,” you gasped, your fingers tightening in his hair as you rocked harder against his face. “Now you’re mine… my good boy… making me feel so fucking good…”

Ethan let out a muffled cry beneath you, his whole body trembling as he sucked and licked with wild abandon, his desperation palpable. He was babbling incoherently, thanking you between gasps and whimpers, his voice barely audible against your skin.

You could feel the tension building inside you again, your body trembling as you rode his face faster, harder. The way he was so desperate, so eager to please you, was driving you wild. You could feel him practically worshipping you with every stroke of his tongue, every moan that spilled from his lips.

“You’re amazing,” you gasped, your voice breathy as you neared the edge once again. “So fucking amazing…”

Ethan’s response was another needy whimper, his tongue moving frantically as he tried to push you over the edge. His hips were still jerking up into the air, humping desperately as he sought any kind of release. But he didn’t stop—he couldn’t stop. He was completely consumed by his need to make you come, and the desperation in his movements only made your pleasure intensify.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, your head falling back as you felt yourself tipping over the edge. “I’m gonna come again, Ethan… don’t stop…”

He let out a desperate groan, his lips swollen and slick as he licked and sucked at you with everything he had, his hips still humping the air in helpless need. And with one final, frantic flick of his tongue, you came undone once again.

Your body shook as your orgasm ripped through you, your hips bucking wildly against his face as you cried out. But even as you came, even as you trembled and gasped, Ethan didn’t stop. He kept going, his tongue working you over with desperate, wild enthusiasm, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

By the time you came down from your high, your legs were shaking, your body still trembling from the intensity of it all. You glanced down at Ethan, your breath catching at the sight of him—his face was a mess, his lips swollen and slick, his eyes dazed and wide with lust. And yet, he was still going, still licking you like he was addicted to the taste of you.

“Fuck, Ethan,” you gasped, breathless and dazed as you looked down at him. “You’re a fucking mess…”

He moaned in response, his hips jerking wildly as he humped the air, his whimpers growing more frantic as he continued to devour you. He was completely lost in it now, utterly consumed by his need to please you.

“God, you really want it bad, don’t you?” you murmured, your voice teasing as you looked down at him. “You’re so desperate for me… and I love it.”

He whined again, his hands gripping your thighs as he tried to pull you down harder onto his face, his babbling incoherent as he thanked you again and again, practically worshipping you with his mouth.

As you pulled yourself away from Ethan’s face, he let out a desperate whine, his hands twitching as if he was already mourning the loss of your taste. His lips were even more swollen, and his eyes, still dazed with lust, blinked up at you, wide with need.

He opened his mouth to beg, but you silenced him before he could utter a word, sliding down his body with a smirk. His breath hitched in his throat as he watched you, wide-eyed and trembling beneath you as he realized what you were about to do.

“Now it’s my turn,” you whispered, your voice dripping with lust and amusement as you looked down at him, dragging your nails lightly over his heaving chest. “Let me show you how it feels…”

Ethan’s breath came out in a ragged gasp as your hands slid lower, his body jerking beneath your touch. When you finally reached him, you paused, your fingers lightly grazing his hardness through his boxers, and you couldn’t help the look of surprise that crossed your face.

He was big.

For a moment, you just stared, slightly taken aback, before a wicked grin spread across your lips. “Well, well,” you teased, slipping your hand beneath the fabric and wrapping your fingers around him. Ethan let out a sharp gasp, his entire body shuddering at your touch. “You’ve been hiding this the whole time, huh?”

Ethan’s response was a choked whimper, his hips bucking up into your hand as you slowly stroked him, your touch light and teasing. “Oh, fuck…” he groaned, his voice shaky and ragged as he trembled beneath you. “I—fuck, I didn’t…”

You cut him off, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of his length, your lips brushing over the sensitive skin as he moaned loudly, his hands gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“Jesus, this feels incredible,” he gasped, his head falling back against the pillows as you began to stroke him in earnest, your hand sliding up and down his length, feeling him throb under your touch. “Holy shit, that feels so good…”

You moaned around him, your own arousal spiking at the sound of his voice, at the way he was completely unraveling beneath you. You could feel him throbbing in your mouth, his length twitching as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking harder. His hips bucked up again, and you had to steady him with your hands, your fingers gripping his thighs as you began to bob your head, taking him deeper with every movement.

Ethan was losing it. His breath came out in ragged pants, his hips jerking up into your mouth as he swore under his breath, his voice shaky and desperate. “Oh my god… I… fuck, that’s so good, I can’t—fuck, I can’t…”

You smirked around him, your hands stroking the parts of him you couldn’t reach with your mouth, feeling him pulse under your touch. He was so responsive, so utterly lost in the pleasure, and it was driving you wild. You loved watching him fall apart, loved knowing that you were the one making him feel this way.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Ethan moaned, his voice a mess of broken curses as his hips bucked up again, his body trembling beneath you. “I’ve never… I didn’t know… oh my god…”

You took him deeper, your tongue swirling around him as you moaned again, the vibrations making him shudder. He was babbling now, incoherent sounds spilling from his lips as he tried to hold himself together, but you could tell he was close—his breath was coming in ragged gasps, his body tense, his hips jerking up into your mouth with every movement.

“Please…” he gasped, his voice barely audible as he whimpered beneath you, his hands gripping the sheets so tightly it looked like he might tear them. “Please don’t stop, I need—fuck, I need you…”

You didn’t. You kept going, your pace quickening as you took him as deep as you could, your hands stroking him faster. His reactions were driving you wild—the way he was falling apart beneath you, the way he couldn’t stop swearing and moaning your name. His hips were out of control now, jerking up into your mouth with every bob of your head, and you could tell he was teetering on the edge.

“Oh fuck… I’m so close, I’m so fucking close…” Ethan’s voice was high and desperate, his whole body trembling as he gasped for breath, his hips bucking uncontrollably. “I’m gonna—”

You pulled back slightly, teasing him, licking slowly up his length as you watched him writhe beneath you. His eyes flew open, wide and glazed with lust, and he let out a loud, desperate whimper, his hips jerking up into the air in a futile attempt to chase your mouth.

“Please,” he begged, his voice shaky and desperate. “Please, I need you…”

You smiled wickedly, your hand still stroking him as you leaned down, your lips brushing over his tip as you whispered, “You’re so fucking hot when you’re falling apart like this.”

Ethan moaned loudly, his head falling back against the pillows as his hips bucked up again, his entire body trembling with the force of his need. He was so close, teetering on the edge, and you could see it in the way his chest heaved, the way his voice cracked with every moan.

“We have plenty of time for you to cum in my mouth Landry. But for now, the only place I want your cum is in my pussy,” you grinned wickedly as you crawled back up his body and grabbed his shaft to rub through your dripping folds. “You want this, baby?”

When all you received in response was a rushed nod, whimper and jerk of the hips, you tutted disapprovingly, leaning over to whisper in his ear.

“Cmon pretty boy, I know you can do better than that. I haven’t even put your cock in my pussy yet, there’s no way you’re too fucked out to speak, use your words,”

“Please- I need to feel you around my cock, need you so so bad!” He whimpered in desperation, jerking his hips up to nudge against your entrance. The movement made you giggle before finally relenting, sinking down on his thick length in one go, prompting a string of curses to fall from both of your lips. You bit your lip and mewled at the full feeling that overtook your body, feeling full from finally having that sexy clueless nerd balls deep in you.

You could feel Ethan trembling beneath you as you began to move, his hands gripping your thighs with a hesitant touch. His nerves were obvious, the way his breath hitched in his throat, the way his body stiffened every time you sank down on him. He was trying so hard to hold it together, but you knew he was on the verge of losing control—and you were going to push him right over the edge.

You smirked as you started to rock your hips, your movements slow and teasing at first, just to watch him squirm. His eyes fluttered shut, and his mouth fell open with a shaky gasp as you took him in deeper. It was almost cute, the way he was trying to hold on, but you were far too impatient for that.

“Aw, look at you honey,” you cooed, your voice dripping with amusement as you leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear. “Is this too much for you? Already falling apart and I’ve barely even started.”

Ethan let out a choked whimper, his hands gripping your hips tighter as his body trembled beneath you. “I-I’m sorry,” he gasped, his voice shaky and breathless. “I just—fuck, you feel so good, I don’t… I can’t…”

You laughed softly, your nails dragging down his chest as you rocked your hips a little harder, a little faster. “I know, baby,” you purred, your voice low and teasing. “I know it’s your first time, so I’ll take it easy on you… for now.”

He whimpered again, his hands trembling as they slid up your thighs, gripping you tightly as if he was trying to ground himself. But you weren’t about to let him off that easy.

“You’ve been dreaming about this, haven’t you?” you murmured, your voice sultry and playful as you leaned in closer, your breath hot against his ear. “All those nights you were too shy to even look at me, thinking you didn’t stand a chance. But now look at you—finally getting what you’ve been begging for, and you don’t even know how to handle it.”

Ethan let out a strangled moan, his hips jerking up into you as his whole body trembled beneath you. “I… I didn’t think…” He could barely get the words out, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. “I didn’t think you’d ever want me like this…”

You grinned wickedly, your hands sliding up his chest as you moved faster, your hips grinding down against him. “Oh, baby, you have no idea,” you whispered, your voice dripping with lust as you started to ride him harder. “I’ve wanted you for so long… watching you get all flustered around me, trying to hide how much you wanted me… It drove me crazy.”

Ethan moaned loudly, his head falling back against the pillow as he arched into your movements, his entire body trembling. His eyes were half-lidded with lust, his lips parted in breathless whimpers as he struggled to keep up with your pace. He was so close, and you could tell he was doing everything he could to hold back, to make it last, but you weren’t going to let him.

“You’ve been so good, though,” you teased, your voice a low purr as you dragged your nails down his chest. “Begging me with those puppy eyes, thinking you weren’t good enough for me… But look at you now, baby. Look how good you feel inside me. You’re doing so well.”

His eyes flew open at your praise, wide and dazed as he looked up at you. He whimpered, his body trembling beneath you, his hands clutching at your thighs as if he was trying to hold on. “I… I want more,” he gasped, his voice desperate and pleading. “Please… I want more…”

You leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “You want more, baby? You want me to ride you until you can’t take it anymore?”

Ethan nodded frantically, his breath coming in ragged pants as he bucked up into you, his whole body trembling. “Please,” he begged, his voice shaky and desperate. “Please, I need more… I need you…”

You smirked, loving the way he was falling apart beneath you. “Such a good boy,” you murmured, your voice dripping with praise and amusement as you started to ride him faster, harder, your hips grinding down against him with every thrust. “You’re doing so good for me, baby. I didn’t think you’d be able to handle this, but you’re proving me wrong.”

Ethan let out a loud, broken moan, his hips jerking up into you as he whimpered beneath you, his body trembling with every movement. “I… I’m trying… fuck, I’m trying so hard…”

“Of course you are,” you purred, leaning down to nip at his earlobe, making him shudder. “But you don’t have to try so hard, baby. Just let go. Let me make you feel good.”

He let out a desperate whimper, his hands shaking as they slid up your sides, gripping you tightly as if he was afraid to let go. “I don’t… I don’t know if I can last…”

“Good,” you breathed, your hips grinding down harder as you felt him start to lose control beneath you. “Don’t hold back. I want you to come for me.”

Ethan’s breath hitched in his throat, his eyes rolling back as his whole body tensed beneath you. “I… fuck, I can’t… I’m gonna—”

“Come for me, baby,” you whispered, your voice commanding as you rode him harder, feeling him throbbing inside you. “Fill me up.”

With a loud, desperate moan, Ethan finally tipped over the edge, his hips jerking up into you as his whole body convulsed beneath you, trembling with the force of his release. You could feel him pulsing inside you, his hands gripping you so tightly it almost hurt, but it only drove you further, riding him through his orgasm as he gasped and whimpered beneath you.

“Such a good boy,” you purred, your voice dripping with praise as you slowed your movements, letting him come down from the high. “You did so well for me, baby. So, so good.”

Ethan’s breath came in ragged gasps, his body trembling beneath you as he blinked up at you, his eyes wide and dazed. His cheeks were flushed, his hair a mess, and he looked completely gone—and it was the hottest thing you’d ever seen.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice shaky as he looked up at you with wide, awe-filled eyes. “That was… I can’t even…”

You grinned down at him, your fingers brushing through his messy hair as you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his. “Don’t worry, baby,” you whispered, your voice a low purr. “We’re just getting started.”

As Ethan came down from his high, still panting beneath you, you could see a spark ignite in his eyes. His gaze shifted, taking in every curve of your body as if he was seeing you for the first time. You leaned down, brushing your lips against his, teasing him with every movement as you felt him start to regain his composure.

“Okay, let’s switch it up a bit,” you said, your voice sultry and playful. “I want to show you how to make me feel even better.”

He looked up at you, a hint of nervousness still lingering in his expression. “How do you want me to… uh, you know, do it?”

You grinned, loving how eager he was to learn. “Let me show you,” you purred, sliding off him and turning around so you were both on your knees, facing each other. “Just like this. Get ready to take me in missionary.”

Ethan’s eyes widened with anticipation as you positioned yourself under him. You could see the nervous energy coursing through him, but you were determined to help him embrace this moment. “Just relax and let me guide you,” you said softly, your voice warm and encouraging.

As you settled yourself beneath him, you took a moment to enjoy the way his body looked beneath you. He was handsome, with those sweet, boyish features that drove you wild. You could see the tension in his muscles, but the way he gazed at you with those wide, innocent eyes made your heart race.

“Now,” you said, your voice sultry as you leaned down closer, brushing your lips against his. “I want you to push into me. Just like before, but this time, you’re in control.” You slowly guided him into you, letting him feel how warm and inviting you were, watching his face contort with pleasure.

Ethan’s breath hitched as he pushed in deeper, the sensation igniting something primal in him. “Like this?” he asked, his voice thick with need.

“Exactly,” you replied, encouraging him with a sultry smile. “Now, I want you to find your rhythm. Just focus on how good it feels to be inside me.”

He nodded, his eyes locked on yours as he began to move, cautiously at first. With each thrust, he grew more confident, his movements becoming faster and more deliberate. You could feel the intensity building between you, the way he filled you completely driving you wild.

“That’s it, baby,” you encouraged, your voice low and filled with desire. “You’re doing so good. Just like that. Harder.”

Ethan responded to your words, his thrusts becoming more enthusiastic, more urgent. The way he looked at you—his eyes dark with lust, his lips parted in a breathless moan—made your heart race even faster. You couldn’t help but revel in the heat of the moment, every sound, every movement sending a shiver of excitement through your body.

“God, you’re so hot,” you said, your voice dripping with lust as you leaned down to whisper in his ear. “I can’t believe how well you’re handling this. You’re making me feel incredible.”

His breath hitched at your words, and you could see the way they spurred him on. “I… I love this,” he gasped, his thrusts becoming more frantic, his confidence building with every word of praise you offered.

“You love making me feel good, don’t you?” you teased, your hips rolling against him as you encouraged him to go deeper. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I love making you feel good!” he exclaimed, his voice strained but filled with enthusiasm. The way he focused solely on your pleasure made you even more aroused, and you could feel the heat pooling low in your belly as you pushed him further.

“Good boy,” you praised, a sultry smile gracing your lips. “Now, tell me how much you want this.”

“I want it so bad,” he groaned, his hands gripping your hips tightly, his eyes locked on yours. “I want to make you come. I want to feel you around me.”

Your heart raced at his words, and you felt a rush of desire surge through you. “Then don’t hold back, Ethan. Show me just how much you want it.”

With a renewed sense of urgency, he began to thrust faster, his movements becoming more confident as he lost himself in the rhythm. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, and you couldn’t help but cry out, your body responding eagerly to his every movement.

“Yes! Just like that!” you moaned, your voice breathless as you leaned down closer, feeling his warm breath against your skin. “You’re doing amazing, Ethan. Keep going.”

He nodded, his expression one of pure concentration mixed with lust. “I’m going to make you feel so good,” he promised, his voice thick with desire. You could see the determination in his eyes, and it only made you want him more.

With every thrust, he grew bolder, and you could tell he was getting lost in the moment. The way he gazed at you—filled with awe and desire—only fueled your own excitement. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, his voice trembling as he lost himself in the pleasure. “I can’t believe I get to be with you like this.”

“Just focus on me,” you urged, your voice sultry and commanding. “Let yourself go. I want to feel you completely.”

His breaths grew ragged, and you could see the pleasure building in him, his movements becoming more frantic as he tried to keep up with your pace. “I’m so close,” he gasped, his voice thick with need. “I don’t want to stop. I want to feel you come with me.”

“Then don’t hold back, baby,” you said, your voice dripping with lust. “Come for me. I want to feel you inside me.”

With those words, you pushed him over the edge, feeling his body tense beneath you as he let out a deep, guttural groan, his hips bucking up into yours as he finally let go. The pleasure washed over you both, and you couldn’t help but cry out as you felt him fill you completely, your body trembling in response.

Ethan’s face was flushed with desire, his lips swollen and parted as he gasped for breath, and you couldn’t help but grin at the sight. He looked utterly gone, and it was the most intoxicating thing you’d ever seen. “You did so good,” you praised, your voice low and sultry as you leaned down, brushing your lips against his. “I knew you had it in you.”

As he came down from his high, a blissful smile spread across his face, and you felt a sense of pride and relief. Well that pining hadn’t been for nothing and you finally got your perfect boy.

Oh Mindy was gonna eat her fucking words.

I feel like I should make an Ethan taglist? Lmk if you would want to be on it!

[writingsofwesteros]

#Dragon Belongs To Drone

Omg I absolutely adore this anon au! I was wondering if you could make a little mini drabble about them. If not it’s ok, I understand! Xxxx

It would be about the princess giving birth to their last baby and they’re finally blessed with a little boy, a mini aegon <3. I can just imagine with the way all the babies are close to their parents, especially their papa, they’re are there with them in birthing room all bursting with excitement waiting for their new baby. Meanwhile, their poor papa is stressed never getting use to labor process.

At least now that that’s their last baby they can go back to their paramours;). They love sharing their bed with their baby’s but they miss their pre-kids sex era!!!

AN:Hi I hope you like it x

Even after all this time, Aegon still became nervous. The idea of his wife in the birthing bed nearly overwhelmed him with fear. He remembered the first time; the Prince remembered his mother’s stories of how his father did not come into the room and Aegon thought that was normal. He had only made such a mistake once. The lovers he and the Princess shared had taken him to one side all those years ago to explain it all. Gods, he had been stupid but he had learnt from his lessons, which is what brought him to his wife’s side. Gently, he reached for her hand; those big eyes of his full of worry. “This is your fault.” The Princess whined; arching in pain as the labours only continued.

“I know,” Aegon hummed and pressed a soft kiss to her hand as he bowed his head. The Gods of his mother came to mind as he silently prayed; not that he would ever admit such a thing. He wished he could take her pain away. The words of the maids surrounding them fell on deaf ears as Aegon watched over his love. "But you're strong. You've always been strong." He kissed her damp forehead, feeling the heat of her struggle. “Your grace, please…” A soft frown of confusion came over his face before realising they were asking for more space and he as ever was crowding. He bowed but those bright eyes of his never left his darling Princess. His hands move behind his back, tearing at those nails. Aegon thought that habit had left him years ago. 

His heart was pounding in his ears; deafening him to the wines of pain escaping his wife. The birthing was lasting longer than usual, which only brought more worry onto Aegon. The sharp, new cry entering the room had Aegon’s attention as he moved to stand; it was only then that he realised he had even sat down. “Oh..it’s a boy.” The maid gasped out as Aegon nearly stumbled forward; his body not moving quickly enough for him. “A boy?” The Prince whispered out; shock was evident in his tone as he stepped forward. The Princess slowly regained her strength as the nurses steadied her. She was soon leaning against the headboard; catching her breath.

The soft crying of the babe continued to fill the chambers as Aegon only watched on in awe. His wife was as strong as ever and their sweet daughters had followed her in that. Gods, what would his son find in him? There was nothing of worth, Aegon knew that. “My husband should hold him,” The Princess whispered out breathlessly. The Prince hardly had a moment to shake his head in disagreement before the soft, familiar weight of a babe was in his arms. It took him longer than needed to duck his head; his bright eyes finally seeing his boy for the first time. Aegon gently stroked the top of the babe’s head as he noticed the bright locks just like his own. 

"He looks just like you," the Princess murmured, her voice filled with a mix of exhaustion and pride. Aegon could only nod, too overcome with emotion to speak. The babe's crying began to quiet, as if he, too, was recognizing the safety and warmth of his father's embrace. His little fist gripped at Aegon’s finger so tightly. "He's perfect," he finally whispered, his voice thick with emotion. Unlike himself, the Prince thought as his self loathing began to return to him. Aegon was in his own world, gently rocking the new babe in his arms and he could not stop the soft smile tugging on his lips. The Princess could only watch on with complete softness and love in her eyes.

It seemed the new addition to the family would be well used to the loudness of his sisters as the large, wooden door slammed opened. Loudly, it moved against the marble wall and Aegon watched as his young son hardly stirred in his hold. “We have a brother?” Aegon’s youngest girl called out; voice full of excitement as the little patter of feet continued into the room. His eldest, a bright-eyed girl with her mother’s fierce spirit, approached first, peering at the baby with wide eyes. “He’s so tiny,” she whispered in awe, reaching out a tentative finger to touch her brother’s hand. Aegon slowly lowered his son as he introduced him. A soft smile came over his face as he noted his middle girl had raced to her mother’s side; face full of worry. 

Aegon slowly guided his eldest towards the large chair; the soft summer air moving into the chambers now as the peaceful moment only continued. “Do you want to hold him?” He gently asked; staring down at his son once more as the Princess settled in bed. Her daughter softly sat at her side and took her hand; playing with her fingers like her father did. “Yes please, father..” She hummed happily; moving herself to rest against the chair as Aegon slowly lowered his babe onto her lap. His hand rested behind the boy’s head as the Prince continued to hover. “I can do it.” Aegon chuckled at his daughter’s eagerness and stepped away. His eyes never leave the sight in front of him.

Looking over his shoulder once more, Aegon began to make his way towards the bed. His hand reached for the goblet of water without thought. Gently, the Prince squeezed his wife’s hand as he fought against the worry inside him with his daughters in the room. He could not let them notice the stress rising. “I am well, my love.” As ever, it seemed she could read him just as she could the very first day they met. “Mama is strong.” He chuckled at his daughter’s words as Aegon lent in and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “Just like you.” She only giggled out; burrowing into his neck before wrapping her arms around his waist. He reached for his wife and softly brushed a lock of her hair from out of her face.

“Father, will we have another brother?” He heard his oldest call from the other side of the room; the babe in her arms fussing quietly. “Oh, that is for your mother to decide.” Aegon chuckled as he settled beside his wife in the bed; bringing his daughter into his lap to wrap his arms around her.

[ya-zz]

Hii! I love your work and I'm a recent follower, so I wanted to request something a little selfish for me! If it's okay, and if you're willing, could I have some headcannons with Ramattra, Genji and Lifeweaver with a deaf!reader? I'd love to hear your thoughts about how quick they would pick up on sign language, and maybe reader giving them a cute allias in sign language? Per example, instead of signing Genji ’s name letter by letter, I would simply sign "My Dragon". Again, this is an extremely specific request so if you choose to pass it on, it's completely okay! Much love to you 🌺

This was such a cute thing to write, selfish or not. I don't really see many fics or hc's out there about this sorta thing, so I am glad to write this! Hope this is what you were looking for! ♥

RAMATTRA

Ramattra never knew why you didn’t speak to him, only when someone mentioned that you couldn’t hear him did he realise the issue. 

It also explained why you never answered him. You didn’t even know he was talking.

He researched how to apologise so he could have some peace of mind. He wasn’t mad, but he did wish someone would’ve told him sooner.

He searched for any module possible to instantly talk to you. 

However, there was the issue of finding the right module. 

With the many variations of sign language, he had to find the one that matched yours. 

It took some time, but when he found the correct module, he was practically fluent in sign language, though he was still slow at talking. 

It warms his circuits the moment he first signed to you and you smiled with a sparkle in your eyes. 

His joints weren’t used to doing intricate hand signs, but over time, he got used to it. 

Day after day he would sit with you to learn how to sign efficiently. 

It was a learning curve to him, one he was grateful for as you were the one teaching him.

He was advancing in a way he had never imagined, especially with a human. 

One day while signing with him, having what seemed like a normal conversation, you had signed something he hadn’t seen before. 

It took his processors a moment to work it out and when he realised what you had signed, he chuckled, signing “thank you” towards you with a tilt of his head. 

“My omnic”.

GENJI

You had been responding to the ninja fairly well, but when you didn’t respond to his callout once, he wondered if you had ignored him. 

He approached you, a little cautious in case you were annoyed at him, but when he realised you were constantly looking at his lips, it clicked for him. 

Genji was close to you, figured you were just the quite kid, but being deaf was something he hadn’t thought about. 

He spent that night researching and practising sign language.

It was a slow process for the ninja; he was always too distracted, but he picked up words and phrases to impress you. 

Maybe a month went by before he finally managed to say a full sentence without any mistakes, but the fact that he was trying was enough for you. 

After awhile, Genji would try to learn more.

He would take online classes to make sure he was doing the correct hand movements; that he was making sense. 

Sometimes he would mess up, but that was okay.

The ninja spent his free time learning full sentences, eventually leading up to a full conversation with you.

It made you warm with happiness that he went through the effort to learn something new. 

Sign language was hard, and with Genji being constantly distracted, it only made it slower to learn and he was several months in to learning. 

Though, when you signed something to him that he had never learnt, he stumbled, thinking about it for the rest of the day before he researched what you had said. 

A genuine smile appears on his face when he learns what you called him. 

“My dragon.”

LIFEWEAVER

Niran had some knowledge of sign language prior to meeting you.

When he heard you were deaf, he was excited to speak to you, though his speech was limited. 

Seeing him interact with you was comforting, even if he did get embarrassed about his mistakes. 

He would spend most of his nights practising, relearning what he already knew and focussing on his weaker points.

Niran would always go to you for help, wanting to know if he’s signing right and what he needs to work on. 

It was like you were a tutor to him, one he felt comfortable around. 

When he wasn’t working on his biology and science, he would study some more.

There was always room for improvement. 

His mind was taken up by you, the want and need to impress you, no matter how many mistakes he made. It was all apart of the process.

Everything was going smoothly. His nightly studying was paying off and he was starting to fully understand conversation.

It only took a couple months for him to be fluent, the perks of being a fast learner but also sticking to a regime.

There was the odd occasion where he would mess up, but even you wouldn’t lie that you did it too.

He was fond of your presence, much like you were fond of his.

Niran was surprised when you signed a different name for him, one that made his cheeks flush the same pink colour.

“My lotus.”

[dinocanid]

If you read Xem's post, you will see that she states you should know the basics about that animal before confirming it. You should know that a wolf is a canine that is a pack hunter that lives mostly in the northern hemisphere. That they howl and usually hunt deer or some deer relative. The have fur and are pursuit predators. Those are the basics. No one except you and your friends said you're only a real wolf therian if you can name top ten unusual facts about wolves. How can someone confirm a wolf if they do not know what a wolf is? You yourself said that you differ from wild wolf behaviours. So you know you're not a wild wolf because of that. But twist words and play the victim I guess.

The OP claimed, very blatantly, that if you make a mistake about some species fact that someone else considers "basic knowledge" then they shouldn't be allowed to identify as that species anymore and should be gatekept from the label. Said basic knowledge included very common and easy-to-make mistakes. Someone can identify as a hyena without knowing at first they are feliforms and not caniforms, the OP said that they can't. Someone can identify as a wolfdog or a leopard, and mistake a wolfdog for a husky mix or a jaguar for a leopard in a photo. That happens, they can look very similar to each other. Idk how to explain that a hyena looks like a dog(canine), just like a thylacine looks like a dog. You can go most of your life before finding out the former is related to cats and the latter is related to kangaroos. You can put a leopard and a jaguar next to each other and it is difficult as hell to tell the difference a lot of times. Not all wolfdogs look like wolves, some just look like dogs especially if they're low content. Some dogs just look like wolfdogs or wolves without being wolf hybrids. See: the pile of movies and shows with "wolves" in it (it's wolf-like dogs being casted as wolves, lots of people don't notice). It's not common knowledge, it's fun facts you might stumble across in a "10 Things You Didn't Know About These Strange Animals" YouTube compilation at 3am.

The OP was stating very clearly that your identity becomes invalid the moment you fail a game of spot-the-difference. The OP post is capped off with:

"So yeah. You should know a lot about the animal you claim to be. If not? Don’t claim it."

I'm gonna be blunt that the OP had one of the most rancid takes I'd seen in a while. Knowing the creature exists was not stated anywhere in the post to be enough, you have to "know a lot".

Someone might not know that animal's realistic behaviors, or where they all live geologically, or what all of their body language means. Someone can know their theriotype before they figure out that later stuff, it's happened all the time and continues to happen. This also isn't covering non-earthly animal identities and how you can't even do ecological research on those. Someone can't go on wikipedia and read up on the ecology of their specific dragon species that has zero record of ever existing. Plenty of those with non-earthly animal identities are not less real as a result, it is an absolute buckwild take that earthly animal identities are somehow different with a higher bar of entry. That's not even mentioning people that identify as earthly animals with unrealistic ecology, because that's also a thing.

For the second part of your ask, I'm guessing you're referring to this recent one. You missed this entire chunk of the post:

"...I do not know most things about wolves off the top of my head. Don't ask me anything about wolf ecology outside the bare basics, I couldn't tell you. When I was really young I thought my nonhuman identity was a dog until one day I had the epiphany that I was actually a wolf. I didn't have to bury my head in research to figure that out, I just knew for not much reason. Any information on wolves I know today is stuff I picked up here and there over the years, independent of my identity"

To condense all of that into something shorter: I just knew I was a wolf before I knew much of anything about wolves. I didn't know I wasn't a wild wolf because I know a lot about wild wolf behavior. I genuinely don't know how that conclusion was drawn after reading that.

"Wolves are canines that live in packs and eat deer" isn't research, that's "I watched a movie once that had wolves in it", which is honestly the extent of what a lot of people know about wolves unless they're invested or something. That's not enough according to the OP, and if that's not what was meant then the entirety of the post was worded extremely poorly.

And this last part isn't related to anon, but I've seen a lot of responses since yesterday about "but why is research bad"? No one has said that it was, and I scroll the alterhuman tags almost daily. That's not something people are arguing. The point isn't "research bad, grr learning about animals sucks", the point is that this discourse is old. Like, old as hell. We're not gatekeeping nonhuman identities based on if you "know a lot" going in. We're not going to claim someone isn't a "real therian" if they get one thing wrong about their theriotype.

Let's say that someone is a leopard therian and posts a picture of a jaguar in some moodboard or something. You know the decent thing to do? You might let them know one of the photos is actually a jaguar, which will usually get you a "oh huh, thanks. didn't catch that". At no point do you suddenly have imply they aren't a "real" leopard therian. You can ask if they've maybe considered jaguars, but they are fully able to respond "yeah but no, I'm a leopard". And that's fine. Someone can be a hyena therian, accidentally say that hyenas are canines. It is absolutely fine and possible to say that hyenas are feliforms without pointing fingers and going "you're not a real hyena, because real hyenas would've known that already".

It's not 2012 anymore, we've grown past this. It is the strangest thing ever to see in the year two-thousand-twenty-four.

[multi-fandom-simp]

My soul, my heart, my fault

Part 1/3

Jacearys Velaryon x Velaryon!Reader (platonic, sisterly), Lucerys Velaryon x Velaryon!Reader(Platonic, sisterly), Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader(mentioned throughout)

-Reader is Laenor's legitimate child in both past and present parts of this fic.-

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim any of them as my own. This work is purely fictional.

Summary: What's dead, is supposed to stay dead. However, the fates decide to make an exception in the case of your younger sibling's unjust deaths. You, who lived through the dance of the dragons, are brought back for the soul purpose of watching them grow again...or perhaps it was die again, you couldn't quite remember. (This will be a three part series)

Side Note: The areas in italics are memories, or moments of the past.

❗TW❗: Mentions of character death and actual character death, murder, angst, blood, incest?(I mean reader was Aemond's niece in past mentions), angst

(A/N: Hello! This is the first HOTD fic I've posted where the reader has a set house and set parent, but nonetheless I am not forcing you to imagine those specifics as their appearance. The reader's legitimate father in this story is Laenor. Simply because I feel like I don't see enough stories/fics with a true Velaryon reader. That being said, if you have any other fic Recs or even requests that involve a Velaryon reader, please send them my way👀. I've also thought about making a series involving a pair of Velaryon twins, so I'd love to know if anyone would be interested in that. Aside from my rambles, I tagged this as both Velaryon reader and just reader so that people may read it if they please. As always, I love to hear your thoughts and see your reactions, enjoy!)

Word Count: 3,924

“Kepus” Your small voice echoed overtop the waves that surrounded your father. 

Laenor, who had been previously focused on the sea turned at your call,“ Yes, Tala”

You stumbled through the water until you were able to cling to his side,“ Why do they whisper about Jace and Luke?” 

“ Because your brothers are different” Your father explained softly. His hand swept lovingly over the back of your head as you gazed up at him. 

“ How so?”

His hands came down to cradle your face,“ It matters not. What matters, is that they are still your brothers. You must not let the whispers get between you and them.”

“ Nothing could ever take me from them, Kepa, I promise” Your tone was fierce, just like the blood that ran through your veins. Laenor smiled and squatted to your level, paying no mind to the water that soaked his clothes. He seemed to study you for a second as if he was committing the moment to memory. 

Finally, he took a breath to speak,“ That’s good because you must protect them, Tala. You are their big sister, their fate rests with you.”

“ I can no-” Your father was quick to spot your hesitancy. The hands that once held your face now held your hands. While his features remained soft, fear was evident in his eyes. 

“ -You must have no doubts. Doubts lead to death, and fate is already not on your side. Heed my words, Tala, history will repeat itself,” Whether or not he was referring to him and Laena or you and the boys, you’ll never know. What you did know was that history indeed would repeat itself.

In 129 AC, you watched your brother Lucerys Velaryon die, and in 2006 you welcomed him as he was born again as your cousin. Three-year-old you was immensely confused on why these people kept referring to him as your cousin, but as you got older you came to the realization that no one else remembered who they were and that things were different. Whilst Laenor Velayron remained your father, Rhaenyra Targaryen was not your mother. In all honesty, you were not sure who your mother was. One thing was for certain though, your brothers had been taken from you. They now grew up in a different house with no memories of all you did for them eons ago. It was as if fate itself had placed a curse on you. Still, you weren’t one to let the gods dictate your life. Once your eleventh birthday came around, you begged Nyra to let you babysit the two youngest boys. She agreed without hesitation and suddenly you were back to seeing the boys almost every other day rather than in the summers. You thought you had outsmarted time and fate themselves. Six years went by and you had managed to watch the boys grow without problems. Well aside from the fact that your father and Viserys had agreed that you and Aemond would be together for the sake of both the Velaryon and Targaryen dynasties. That was six months ago, and everything had started to decline since then. Your father had mysteriously vanished, Rhaenyra’s husband Harwin had died, and tensions between the families were at an all-time high. It wasn’t Aemond’s fault per se, he was a great partner, but you knew how this went. In the end, you would be torn between his family and your own. More specifically between your brothers and him. The mere thought of it all happening again sent your stomach into knots. If only there were a way to prevent everything, prevent time from repeating itself. Maybe then you could save your brother-

" Hellooo, are you there? Hey-" Your thoughts vanished as Jace came into view. Were you having a nightmare again? No, surely not in the middle of the day, not while the boys were here.

The realization of your whereabouts sat you upright, forcing your eyes to the couch where you had last left the youngest boys, who still sat there much to your relief,"-Shit, sorry! Did I space off again?"

"You looked like you were asleep with your eyes open, to be honest," Jace snorted, his hair was wet and a gym bag hung from his shoulder, " Rough night?"

His question was answered with a groan as you laid your cheek against the cool countertop, "I’ll take that as a yes?"

"Every night is a rough night when you have nightmares like mine" You mumble between the space in your arms, “Do you ever have weird dreams, Jace?” 

Jace sat beside you, mirroring the position you had slumped into. You turned your face towards him as he spoke, "I had a dream once where I was in archery club...but I was naked, like bare as can be-"

"-You can not be serious"

"Oh but I am, and my grandfather's creepy friend Otto was the teacher. It was definitely weird, but I didn't lose sleep over it" Jace shrugged.

" Why are you guys talking like that?" Both you and Jace lift your heads to face Luke. The curly-haired boy stood on the other side of the kitchen island with his eyebrows raised.

You shrugged, “Why are you not talking like this?” 

“ Because I’m a normal human being?” He questioned sarcastically, “ anyways, while I have the attention-”

“You always have the attention” Jace scoffs.

You nod in agreement,“ Mhm, it’s because he’s the favorite.”  

“ Can I talk or..” Luke stands there staring at the two of you patiently, much like his mother would. Actually, it reminds you of the first time Nyra caught you sneaking the boys into the kitchens during the hour of the owl. 

“You must be very quiet. Some say the kitchen maids have special abilities that let them know food has been stolen” You whisper to the boys with a suppressed grin. Each of them held lemon tarts as you securely closed the door. 

Luke’s doe eyes widen with fear, “Do you think they’re witches? Will they curse us?” 

“ The kitchen maids are not the ones you should be worried about” The three of you whipped around at the sound of your mother’s voice. She stood tall in the firelight, a red robe covering her as she stared down expectantly. 

A nervous grin stretched across your features, “ Muna! We were just collecting lemon tarts to bring to you!” 

“ You know, your father has this knack for flattering me when he’s trying to cover a lie. It would be a shame for my daughter to try and do the same” She hummed suspiciously. 

“ I would never!” You cringed as you realized how identical you sounded to your kepa, “Alright, we were trying to sneak lemon tarts for ourselves, but it won’t happen again! ” 

“ If you were still hungry, you should have told me so. Now, Jace, Luke, take the tarts to your chambers and go to bed please.” The boys bid Rhaenyra a good night and took off down the hall swiftly. 

Your fingers fiddled with your nightdress nervously, “ I’m sorry, I did not mean to cause trouble.” 

“ Oh my heart, you did not cause trouble. It is natural to sneak out at a young age, but you need to be careful here. There are people in this world who seek to hurt your brothers, and you must be their protector.” She cooed, her thumb stroking your cheek. 

The fire in your eye returned once more, “ No one will hurt them. Not while I’m by their side.” 

“-I’m starting to think she had a medical condition at this point” It was Jace once again who pulled you from the past, but with Luke beside him this time. The two of them both stared at you with confusion. The dry itch in your eyes became apparent as you came back into focus. 

“ Maybe she’s just tired from dealing with Aemond all the time-”

You cut off Luke’s jest with a groan, “ Okay, can we not start up the hate train for my boyfriend today? I was just daydreaming, good gods.” 

“ No need to start the train up when it was never off in the first place” Jace spoke teasingly. Any rebuttals that were set to come from your mouth were ceased by the constant buzzing from your phone, which laid on the counter for everyone to see. 

Luke’s eyes bugged at the sight of Aemond’s contact,“ ñuha zaldrīzes?! You call him your drag-”

“Shut up!” You reached over to slap a hand over his mouth as you answered the phone, “ Aem, hey, what’s going on?” 

“What’s going on? Have you looked at the time recently?” looking over to the clock, your face fell. It was twenty past seven, which meant you were twenty minutes late to your dinner with Aemond. 

“I thought you would be here as soon as Jace got home, has he not arrived yet?” From beside you, Jace held a thumbs up, as if he was allowing you to use him as an excuse. 

“He was a little late getting home and then we got to talking and I just-”

Aemond’s sigh drowned out your words, “-Lost track of time, yeah. It seems like that happens a lot when you’re with them.” 

The boy’s watched as you visibly deflated, “Aemond, that’s not fair.” 

“ Not fair? You constantly put me second to them. I am- your husband and lover. Sooner or later you will have to choose, either me or them, and I will not tolerate a bastard being put before me. Not in this lifetime or the next.” 

“You are being unreasonable, Aemond!”

“ The unreasonable one is you! There is a war afoot and you insist on playing both sides. If you think this will end in a happy ever after..then you’re- mistaken. Are you even listening? Hello?” Time was running out and you could feel it. The last time Aemond had spoken those words, Luke had ended up dead hours later. With fear clouding your judgment you hung up without another word. Which probably didn’t help the situation, but what else could you do? Tell Luke what you thought would happen? No, he was only fifteen, he would be terrified. You couldn’t tell Jace, because as close as the two of you were he would still think you’re crazy. And Aemond, he was absolutely out of the question. Accusing him of something like that would drive the wedge further between the two of you. 

“ You must protect them, Tala. You are their big sister, their fate rests with you.” What if I don’t know how? 

“There are people in this world who seek to hurt your brothers, and you must be their protector” How can I be their protector when I brought the danger to them? Is it me? Am I the variable that needs to be changed? What if I take Luke’s place? 

“ Luke-” Your throat tightened as you looked forward. The spot Luke previously stood in was empty, as was Jace’s spot beside you, “ Luke?!”

 Jace reappeared from behind you,“ He went out to ride his bike.”

Confusion and worry clouded your eyes,“ It’s raining, he can’t possibly ride in this weather?!”  

Jace shrugged, “I suppose the rain didn’t matter after he heard your conversation with Aemond.” 

“Wha-” Fear suffocated your heart like a python. He wouldn’t confront Aemond over a silly argument, would he? 

“ Before you ask, no I did not just let him walk out the door to go confront our sociopathic uncle. He isn’t that fast of a peddler, so I’ll just catch up to him in the car” You snatched the keys from Jace’s hand before he could even finish his next thought. 

“ Hey-”

“- This is my fault, I’ll fix it” You spoke while making a beeline for the front door, “ I promise I’ll bring the car back in one piece, and Luke too!” You didn’t wait for Jace to reply, there was no need. Nothing he could say would change your mind. 

The rain barely touched you, that’s how fast you had made it to the car. You used one hand to whip out onto the street as your other hand pulled up Aemond’s contact. It rang four, five times before going to voicemail. You tried again and again to no avail before it finally went through. 

“ Hello? Aemond?” Your voice was as shaky as the car on the slick roads. 

“ Are you going to hang up on me again?” His tone was short, meaning he was upset. 

“ No, I was just overwhelmed-” The familiar click of a turning signal sounded throughout the car, but you weren’t turning, “ Aemond, please tell me you’re at home.” 

“ I’m not. I’m on my way to pick you up” Oh gods. You couldn’t do this, not now. Why was it all happening so fast? 

“ I’m not there. I went out to look for Luke. Just go back home and I will meet you there” You pleaded, which was entirely out of character for you. 

“I’m not far-”

“-Aemond, please! Just this once, listen to me” You hoped the urgency in your voice would persuade him to listen. Alas, it did not, and part of you knew it wouldn’t. 

“The rain is too thick to turn back now. I can barely see anything as it is” Aemond argued, “ I’ll wait at the boy’s house until you get back. I promise I won’t do anything, I won’t even get out of the car.” 

Your fear regressed a little. If Aemond was out of the way, then nothing could possibly happen. This could work, or so you thought. Straight ahead, racing through the storm was Lucerys. He was completely drenched from what you could tell and barely pedaling straight. You hit the brakes and jumped out of the car. 

“ Luke, get in the car!” The storm roared loudly over your voice, but he still managed to hear you. 

Luke shook his head, “ I won’t let him treat you like that, not again.” 

“What do you mean not again?” That’s when you noticed, Luke’s eyes were different, older, “You remember, don’t you?” 

He nodded slowly, unsurely, “ When Aegon hit my head against the table at dinner last week it all came flooding back. I thought they were dreams at first, but then I noticed how different you acted. How you had changed then to now.” 

“ You never said anything”

“I didn’t know that you remembered, I’m sorry” He apologized through chattering teeth. 

You smiled softly, “ It doesn’t matter anymore, just come with me. Let me take you back home.” 

That’s when Luke’s own smile fell, “ I can’t. I ran away from him the first time, but not this time.” 

“ That wasn’t your fault, Luke. I was the one who told you to run, so please, just- take my hand!"

"I won't leave Arrax!" Luke screamed from below you, ignoring the hand that you held down towards him. 

"Vhagar is set to kill Arrax. You must take my hand Lucerys, please!" Eyes as green as sea moss flashed through the heavy downpour like lightning. Eyes that held fear that chilled your bones more than the freezing rain. Next came the hand, the hand that held scars from dragon riding yet looked as soft as a handful of clouds. You reached for it amidst the haze, only it never seemed to get any closer.

“Reach further-” and that’s when you saw it, rather than when you saw him. It was Aemond atop Vhagar who appeared in what seemed like a split second. Your heartbeat quickened and you reached for Lucerys once more, except something was blinding you this time- headlights, that’s what was in your way. The beams of light raced down the street with no intention of slowing down. You would be worried about them hitting you if Luke wasn’t in between their path and you. Like before, you weren’t fast enough. Every step you took towards your brother seemed to push him father away. 

“Lucerys, Move!” Your screams mingled with his as he turned too late. In what seemed like slow motion you watched as Luke rolled atop the car as it completely mangled his bike. Much to your horror, the driver slammed on their brakes, propelling Luke forward.

“No!” Your feet were moving before your brain could even process what happened, “ No, no, no, please no.” 

The pavement cut into your knees as you knelt beside Luke. You pulled his head to rest on your knees, paying no mind to the blood that soaked through your pants. His eyes were open, yet lifeless. The vibrant green that they held before now shone as a dull gray. You leaned down to place your ear on his chest. Nothing. Not a single sound. 

“ Lucerys please, you can’t leave me again, “ Your tears mixed with the rain, “ Come back to me, Ñuha prūmia” 

“ You did well, Ñuha prūmia. Do not fret” Your sincere words traveled in one ear and out the other for Lucerys. Jace had beaten him at dueling practice yet again. 

He scrunched his nose as your endearment, “ Must you call me that? It sounds girly.”

“It is a simple endearment, I mean no harm to your pride. I refer to you as my heart in the same manner that I call Jacaerys my soul” You explain softly, reaching over to ruffle his curls. 

“What is Joffrey then?” 

“I’m not sure,” You hum in thought, “ Perhaps he is my mind.” 

He peers up at you in curiosity, “Which of the three would you say that you can not live without?” 

“Mhm, my heart would be the answer. I fear I’d go mad if I ever lost you.” His cherubic smile faded to a bloody gasp. The sight alone smothered out the fire in your heart and set off a drum in your skull. 

“ Is he alright? I couldn’t see him through the rain. I swear- oh gods…” Whilst still regaining focus where you sat on Storms End Avenue, you looked up to see none other than Aemond Targaryen speaking to you through the rain. His hair lay limp against his face, almost covering the grim expression he held, which seemed to darken as you came into view. You gently laid Lucerys’s head on the road below before standing on shaky legs. 

“ Don’t. Don’t you dare tell me it was an accident, not again” You advanced toward Aemond until the tip of your finger dug into his chest. The patience you once had now worn thin and making way for eons of repressed anger and guilt. 

Confusion danced across Aemond’s face, “ Again? What are you talking about-”

“Stop acting like you do not know!” You screamed, shoving him backward, “ I am tired of everyone acting like they know nothing when everything else is happening according to the past!” 

“We can talk this out, just calm down” Aemond almost sounded like he was pleading as he reached out for you, but in truth, Aemond never pleaded to anyone. Not even the woman he claimed to love. 

"Calm down?! I am to watch my brothers be murdered AGAIN and you want me to CALM DOWN?! You are wrong if you think I will sit by an.. and.. a-", the longer you stood, the worse your vision got. At this point, the pounding in your head had gotten so loud that your vision swayed. Through the dark spots blotting your eyes, you could see silhouettes of dragons dancing in the clouds and the water surrounding you turning red. Everything began to feel weightless, except your head of course. 

“ Woah, hey” Aemond was there to catch you as you crumbled, “ Keep your eyes open for me, okay? I’m going to call for help, but I need you to stay awake.” 

You tried to stay awake, you really did, but it was all too much. The weight of it all dragged you into the darkness without a fight. It was hours before you awoke, and when you did it was in a hospital bed. A warm weight against your leg is the first thing your brain registers. Well, that and the blinding white hue of the hospital walls. 

"Luke.." your throat was dry and scratchy, almost as if you had been screaming for days. Your eyes surveyed the room wearily until they landed on Jace. He must have been the warmth you were feeling. His arms lay atop the bed next to you, crossed snuggly beneath his head. You could tell the skin around his eyes was puffy and red despite them being closed. He had been crying, but over what? Was it Luke? Had last night not been just another nightmare of the past? You reached out, brushing against Jacaerys arm lightly, but still firm enough to rouse him from his sleep. 

His eyes fluttered for a moment before fully snapping open, "You're awake!" 

" I don't remember falling asleep.." you spoke in true confusion. 

Jace's eyes seemed to soften, whether or not it was in pity or sadness you did not know," You didn't fall asleep, you collapsed. Aemond brought you in-"

" and Luke? " A part of you couldn't help but be hopeful. If you couldn't remember passing out, then perhaps Luke's death was a hallucination of your foggy memory as well. Even if the look in Jace's eyes already told you differently. 

" They said he was dead upon impact. Aemond killed him." your heartbeat picked up on the monitor as Jace spoke, "I know it's not what you want you to hear, and that you love Aemond, but it's true."

"Aemond claims that he didn't see him in time. That the rain made the roads too slick and that he lost control of the car, but he’s lying" Jace seethed, paying no mind to your reaction. 

"Jace-" 

His eyes held fire and the smallest hint of disbelief as they flickered back to you, "Please don't defend him. Whatever you're going to say, just don't. My mother has already retaliated and I've opened a lawsuit against Aemond. There's nothing else you can say."

" You don't know that unless you let me speak" You waited for a beat of silence before continuing, "I was not going to defend Aemond. On the contrary, I was going to tell you that it wasn't an accident. It's just like before."

Jace s eyes widened, " Like before? Has Aemond killed someone else?" 

You shake your head quickly, "No, not this lifetime. You misunderstand, I'm talking about when he killed Lucerys the first time."

" I'm not sure what you're talking about. None of this has ever happened before-"

The patience you once had before Lucerys's death is now long gone, "-Yes it has! You just have to remember, like Luke did. I need you to remember Jace, please, before the same happens to you." 

Jace leans forward to encase both of your shaking hands," If it's the lawsuit that troubles you, then you need not worry. Nothing is going to happen to me. I've taken many precautions. Otto Hightower has agreed to meet us halfway to our beach house in Dragonstone to receive the papers. He's bringing Criston Cole as a witness and I'm bringing Corlys. Everything will run smoothly."

Halfway to Dragonstone, the gullet. You sucked in a trembling breath as images of Jacaerys' arrow-riddled body flashed before your eyes. He was close to his death and yet he didn't remember, not like Lucerys did. You were the only one left with the knowledge of what was to come… Or So you thought. 

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Find the Word tag

Thanks @jezifster for the tag! These are piling up I'm going through them!

My words: chill, lift, wreck, final

Your words: disappoint, raise, bland, flexible

Tagging @theeccentricraven @thepeculiarbird @awritingcaitlin @sleepywriter00 @mikathewriter @little-peril-stories @space-writes @unrepentantcheeseaddict @ohnomybreadsticks @blind-the-winds @andyswritings or anyone else who'd like to play!

Keep reading for:

Training session with dragon

Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack jumped....

Don't let this guy fool you he's an asshole

Robbie's infamous fight with Jason

Chill - from The Secret Portal Part One (Akash POV)

Custos roared and his fire broke through the pitch darkness, illuminating Tyler. He pitched the light toward Custos as Kelsey slammed into him. Tyler stumbled but held his stance, pushing against Kelsey as he tried to keep Custos in the light. “Medina! Go!” I could scarcely make out Noelle’s outline in the dim light, but the chill I felt down my spine as her silhouette moved was strong. I heard a surprised shout. “Gills! What happened?” “My rock stopped! I slipped off the ledge, but I’m okay.” My grip on the stick tightened. Tyler struggled to keep Kelsey from knocking him over. I looked at Custos. Gills told me I was defense. He’d understand. The real problem was Noelle. She grabbed Gills’ rock in pitch darkness. She could get me. I pulled harder on the stick. Noelle’s pull tightened, too. Smirking to myself, I let the stick go and flew upward—cutting through the air. Noelle grunted as the stick hit her with her own force. Once high enough, I shot toward the dragon, hoping to keep the momentum to pass through the dampening field and get the sphere. I knew it as soon as I passed. I lost my grip on the air and began to fall, but I latched onto the collar before doing so. Custos didn’t like that and tried to paw me off, but I managed to unclasp the sphere. “Haha!—oomph!” I celebrated until Custos did knock me off.

Lift - from School of the Legends Year One

Jill seemed mildly confused, but she shrugged, and the three of them began to sneak back to the edge of the mantle. Jack fell a bit behind, struggling to carry the harp. The logical side of him told him to just leave the harp, but his gut told him otherwise. He couldn’t explain it, but he needed to take this harp. Ahead, Jill and Beau had already reached the end of the mantle. Jack gestured for them to go on, but too late he realized that was a mistake, as the harp began to slip from his fingers. He moved quickly, gaining a firm grip on the harp before it hit the mantle, but as he did so, one of his fingers brushed against the harp’s strings. Jack froze as both giants turned toward the sound. Instantly, the male was up and crossing the room. Jack bolted toward the end of the mantle, suddenly finding an adrenaline-fueled strength to lift the harp. “Go!” he shouted at Jill and Beau. “I’ll catch up!” They both hesitated, but they soon disappeared from Jack’s view. Jack continued to run, but was soon stopped by the crashing of a gigantic fist crashing onto the mantle in front of him, the force of which sent Jack off his feet, and crashing on his back. The giant loomed over Jack, eyes that were larger than Jack blazing in fury. “Who do you think you are?” he asked in a mountain-shattering voice--in English, Jack was barely able to process. “Breaking into my home and stealing my things?” “It’s not like you’re gonna do anything with them!” Jack shouted--though his voice came out a lot weaker than he expected. “I’m keeping them safe until they are needed!” The giant raised his fist--probably planning to smash Jack--but Jack took the opportunity to bolt toward the end of the mantle. The giant’s size was now a hindrance--too slow, and his fist crashed into the mantle, cracking it, just next to where Jack was. But the crack bent the mantle, and Jack now found himself on a sloped surface--slight enough to where he could still run, but steep enough for him to lose balance and almost fall to his feet. He peered over the side. Jill and Beau were now on the ground, pressed against the wall. They’d left the plants for Jack, though with the force of the crack, the stalk connecting the mantle with the side table had snapped. Jack was now at the edge of the mantle, looking down at the long fall to the table. He whipped his head back to the giant, who was now recoiling from breaking his mantle. He looked back at his options. He could stay here and get crushed, or he could jump. Then his eyes drifted past the table and to the recliner--the back of it. It was a soft surface. It wasn't too much farther. Though directly in the path of the jump he would have to make was the candlestick, the flame on the wick now threateningly large and sparking. A quick glance back was enough to tell Jack that he had no option. As soon as the giant slammed his hand down beside Jack, he jumped, hoping the force from the giant’s slam was enough to propel him over the candlestick.

Wreck - from The Secret Portal Part Three (OLD DRAFT because this word doesn't appear in any current drafts....this was back when telepathy and empathy were separate oh my God whyyyyyyy)

Doctor David Pinchên took a seat on his sofa, reclining into its soft cushions, his coffee warming his hands. Just three days ago, he had published his textbook on Telepathic Theory. It had taken him years of research, but finally, his work was complete. He hoped that the school curriculum would soon offer Telepathic Theory as a course. It was fascinating to think about, and he himself hoped that one day more and more of the youth would be as swept away as he was. He, of course, was not a telepath. He was, however, a Level-1 empath. The two were often confused, and he took umbrage at the ignorance of others when he had spent nearly the entirety of his life being asked, “What am I thinking?!” Though, being an empath, he did understand that not everyone was familiar with the Levels and Classes and abilities of their race. The database was long and complicated, and he wouldn’t be surprised if the one who put it together a millenia ago didn’t have it memorized by the time he or she died, even though when the database was first published, most of the subpowers, and even full umbrella powers, didn’t even exist yet. In fact, it hadn’t been too terribly long since a fourth Class of powers had been discovered, with the arrival of chronokinesis, energy conversion, and dimensiokinesis. With empaths being closely related to telepaths, David found himself sympathizing rather seamlessly with the psychics. Even as a Level-1, he still experienced the common headaches and emotional breakdowns that had formed into a sad-but-true stereotype for empaths to be unstable. He had been what some would call “a wreck” as a boy, and it didn’t help that he skipped two grades of elementary school, so being a physically smaller emotional mess did nothing to stop nasty kids taking advantage of him once his powers kicked in. Though he usually used his abilities to discover if anything else was bothering the bullies, which there usually was, and reported his findings to the school’s counselor, also an empath, all of which were, and usually that kid’s issue was resolved, which led to that kid being nice to him in gratitude. David didn’t want to brag about this accomplishment. He was just using his powers for a good reason. Because of these actions, he’d had mixed reception from adults. Some wished him to continue to use his powers and become a counselor or therapist, while others pushed him to appeal to his science side. He had no interest in therapy, as he had been simply stating his findings to someone much more qualified. So he did go toward the direction of a more theoretical science, which those adults that pushed him to pursue a more scientific path were convinced was “a waste of a great mind.” Oh, how he hoped he could see them once Telepathic Theory became a college major.

Final - from The Secret Portal Part One (Robbie POV)

I stopped in my tracks and turned to my right. Jason Sturges stood down the hall, clicking his stupid sticks against the lockers. A rush of fury overtook me as I remembered this morning. I didn’t know what I was doing until I was right beside Jason, punching him in the face. Jason stood up straighter, rubbing his jaw, his steely blue eyes locked on me with a look that could kill. Still, I didn’t regret the action. Yeah, I shouldn’t have done it, but who gave a shit? I may not have been a hero, but justice was justice. “Alright, heartthrob.” Jason tucked his drumsticks into the back pocket of his jeans. “This is how you want to play?” My right hand was on fire from the punch. Jason cracked his knuckles. I wanted to run, catch up with Akash, but I stood my ground. Jason took a swing at me; I threw up my hands to block my face—actually, my glasses—and Jason’s fist collided with my arm with enough force to cause me to stagger backward. Before I could regain my balance, Jason charged at me, and with full force, slammed me against the nearest locker. The impact caused my entire nervous system to light up, and though it hurt, I felt powerful. The force filled me with new-found energy. The lights flickered, warmth flooded through my body. Jason stepped back, though kept me in place. A scarlet light began to glow from somewhere. Jason looked at the light, then the ceiling. Then me. “What the….” I gave Jason a final push to get off of me, but what I meant to be a good shove sent Jason through the air and crashing into the lockers on the other side of the hall, then falling to the ground. The scarlet light dimmed until it disappeared. The lights stopped flickering. “Stay away from him,” I growled.

[violetlunette]

Runaway Chapter 4: Poison_Part 2

Summary: Lilia tries to speak with Malleus about everything. But will Malleus listen?

<-Previous Chapter

Master List

Ao3

Notes: *I had to split this as Tumblr no long takes long posts *Twst spoilers for Chapter/Book 7

For a moment, Lilia looked as if he had been struck. He stumbled back a step. His heart stopped as, for a second, the world lost sound and color.

There was a beat before Lilia was able to snap back to reality.

Once he did, his ruby gaze dropped, shame and guilt sitting on each shoulder.

“I…” He swallowed as his throat grew thick before forcing the words out. “I had to.” He lifted a hand to rub some feeling back into his arm, which had gone numb.

Lilia knew this talk was coming, but he didn’t think it would be so soon.

“...You were already against humans as it was back then. You blamed them for everything you lost and thought they were just verminous savages that destroyed everything they touched,” he explained as if to justify himself. He couldn’t lift his head to look at the other, and his body slumped forward as he thought of his son. His son, who had gone and... “I didn’t want you to hate Silver for something he was innocent of.” 

Malleus’ lips pulled back to reveal his fangs.

“His father killed my mother,” he growled, his voice rumbling. Against the stone, his hand curled into fists. Lilia’s head shot up.

“Malleus--”

“His father killed my mother--” Malleus repeated, lashing an arm out and interrupting the other before he could speak. Lilia had to leap away to avoid the attack. “--invaded our territory, attacked our people--And yet you raised his child?!”

B O O M!

As his temper flared, the storm outside grew stronger. The light of its lightning filled the room with white, illuminating Malleus’ fury and Lilia’s shock and guilt.

At first, Lilia stepped back, but then he stepped forward, a fire in his chest.

“Malleus, calm down! Silver had nothing to do with any of that!” he yelled to be heard over the bellow of the storm and the screech of the wind, which rattled the windows. The flame spread throughout the rest of Lilia’s body, giving him the strength to stand up for his son. His.

“Silver never did anything!” he told the other. “You can’t hold him accountable for things that happened before he was even born!”

“He still carries his blood,” Malleus hissed, his tone cracking like fire. “How could you--”

“He was a freaking baby lying alone in a cursed castle! If I hadn’t, he would have died!”

“That’s—”

“What, Malleus?!” Lilia challenged. He stepped forward. Malleus stepped back, away from the window. “That’s what?! He was a child, a baby! A baby who never did anything wrong!”

Indeed, Silver never committed any sin. He was a sweet, loving child who did his best to help those around him and was kind to even the cruelest soul. Silver was passionate and only desired the strength to care for others. He didn't deserve the blame of others. To be held accountable for the wrongs of his fathers, to suffer--

Lilia tried to calm his temper, but it was hard. 

He felt like he had to fight for Silver, but at the same time, he knew that fighting wasn’t what anyone needed.

After all, Malleus was suffering as well.

Malleus had just learned two horrible truths that Lilia always knew would break the young prince. 

He had realized his life came at the cost of another's life span, someone he cared for enough to blot over and nearly die at his phantom's hands. On top of that, the dragon learned that a child he loved was descended from the ones who stole everything from him.

What Malleus needed wasn't an enemy right now. He needed a friend, someone to care for him.

Lilia took a breath.

“I know you’re angry at me, and you have every right to be,” he emphasized. “But I never wanted to hurt you.” He reached out again, trying to let his love reach the child he spent so long trying to hatch. Malleus dodged the touch.

Malleus didn’t want to accept anything from the bat right now. He was angry. He was upset. More than that, he was hurt.

“You lied to me.” Lilia betrayed him. Malleus and his family. He deceived Malleus all this time, even though the dragon trusted him more than anything. All for that human.

He turned and walked away from Lilia until he was standing before the fireplace.

The flames cricked and cackled as they flickered, their light creating tall shadows from the grate that loomed over the two like witnesses to a crime.

Lilia followed Malleus, trying to reason with him. When he spoke, his tone was desperate.

“I did it for you.” Malleus scoffed, causing the other to droop. “And for myself,” he admitted.

“Before your father died, he left a dream that humans and fae could live together in peace. I tried to share that dream, but... Lilia's eyes dropped as he lifted a hand to rub a stiff neck. “ As I said, you hated humans. And I worried that one day that hatred would grow and history would repeat itself.

“But that changed when you met Silver.” Despite everything, Lilia smiled softly at the memory.

Malleus had been surprised to see his guardian holding a human baby that day. He was distasteful at the sight, but as soon as Lilia shoved Silver into his arms, the fierce dragon instantly softened to mush. That was the first time Lilia had hope that Malleus could change.

“Despite just meeting Silver and your prejudices, you instantly began to worry for him. You came by just to see how he was and how he was growing. You made sure he was eating alright, praised him as he learned to walk and fight, and taught him to use his magic.” He lifted his head and beamed, a soft chuckle dancing from his lips.

“You even came to a college full of humans,” he hummed. “All because you found you were able to care for one.”

Malleus’ face scrunched as he fought back tears. The memory of the other brought up feelings of love and care for the human babe, but they were quickly burned by his anger and pain.

“But it was all a lie,” he said, rejecting the feeling Lilia tried to offer.

“You misled me. Had I known the truth, known who he was, I never—I never--” Malleus choked back a sob as his body quaked, unable to hold in his emotions.

“Never would have cared for him?” Lilia finished for him, his face cool and his voice hard as stone. He folded his arms across his chest and stood to his full height. Despite it not being as impressive as the other’s, it had the desired effect.

“I know. I knew that if you knew the truth, you never would have even given that child a chance.” Lilia lifted a hand to his head, his mind beginning to spin from stress. He closed his eyes to combat the oncoming migraine.

“What do you want, Malleus? Do you want to kill Silver for something his father did?!” But hadn’t Lilia been the same? Hadn’t he played with the idea of killing the boy to get revenge for all that was lost?

At his words, Malleus’ skin lost its color as his jaw clenched.

The dragon fell silent and turned away, staring intently at the flame as the fire inside him ate away.

The pain bubbled and boiled inside him until his body felt like a pot about to boil over. It was so intense that Malleus worried he would blot over again.

Instead, Malleus did much worse.

“I wish you never found him,” he said, the words cracking like his heart. His hair hid his wet eyes. “I wish you had never brought him into our lives.” Each word was like a drip of poison.

A part of him felt this was a lie. Another part meant every word.

If Lilia hadn’t brought Silver into his life—had Lilia not allowed him to care for that human—then his heart wouldn’t be aching the way it was.

He wouldn’t be in so much pain.

The silence that fell was thick. Even the rumbling of the storm outside couldn’t pierce it.

Neither move. Neither spoke. Neither looked at the other.

Finally, the world shattered like glass.

“Well—” Lilia said, voice shaking with emotion, his lips curling in a sneer. “Then perhaps it’s a good thing Silver’s gone.”

There was a clack of heels as Lilia turned away, then the groan of the door, followed by a SLAM!

Then there was nothing.

Krrr, krrk, fssh...

Malleus never turned away from the flickering flames before him. His brow wrinkled as he fought back the tears, which made his eyes shine like glass.

Outside, lightning clashed. Thunder roared. The wind screeched as it raked past the window like claws.

Finally, the world became too much for him.

Malleus’ face collapsed into his hands as his emotions came pouring out.

“AUGHH--!”

~To be continued...~

Next ->

So. Nice talk, huh? I mean, Lilia didn't get hit by lightning, so that's something...

Anyway, we catch up with our runaway next time, so stay tuned!

[jacqcrisis]

Alright, stupid scene idea about my dragonborn man that I have that I'm going to put under a readmore since its about Ronan's anatomy and its long:

Actually first, context 1: I hate the dragonborn genitals in game. They suck. They're goofy. I know in lore, dragonborns are technically mammalian, but they also lay eggs and shit, so I'm ignoring human cock and balls much like im ignoring the fact that in game, I cant give my dragon man a strongman chubby bod. For any writing purposes, Ronan has hemipenes and they are inside of him until they aren't.

Context 2: in lore, it seems like by the time BG3 happens, dragonborn have only been around for like...100 years. They are still a pretty new thing to the planet of Toril, and especially to the continent of Faerun, where the game takes place. Not new enough that in a cultural hotbed like Baldurs Gate that you'd be shocked to see a humanoid lizard, but still fresh enough they're still weird and their anatomy isn't common knowledge outside of rumors, erotica stories, and still as of yet published scientific journals.

ANYWAYS

The dumb idea is that since Ronan's a clean boy, in Act 1, first few nights camping together, it becomes pretty clear he doesn't have much shame around his body or who sees it as he strips down near the water to clean off. He's just going to do the thing, people watching be damned, and thankfully the new company he's been keeping all politely look the other way.

Except Gale, who establishes a habit on night one of talking Ronan’s earholes off while he’s washing up. Why is he doing it? What is he up to? What are they talking about?

All questions had by one paranoid member of the party who decides to come over on night three of this to see what’s going on. Gale’s sitting on a rock, nearly falls off it when Astarion makes his appearance. He’s a little pink in the ears, sheepish and stumbling over his words when he explains they were discussing the merits of taking a deal with a cambion like Raphael.

Ronan grunts, back to them, water above his hips and clearly finishing up his washing as Astarion makes pointed comment about how this seems like an interesting occasion to have such a conversation with someone. Gale stutters out weakly that it's not like they’re doing anything else and that its just an efficient use of their time. It starts a small back and forth about Gale's real intentions that Gale is extremely losing but that argument ends rather quickly as Ronan walks out the water, nude and clearly ignoring them while he reaches for his clothes and some dry rags he left near where Gale was sitting, presumably before he was sitting there.

Astarion's mouth clamps firmly shut as he sees a strange lack of…anything discernible between the cleric’s legs. There was already an idea in his mind of who he could seduce in the camp to secure his safety here and part of this charade was to discover what he may have to work in order to do so. But now…

Gale doesn't seem bothered. In fact, he's only gotten redder as he hands Ronan a cloth to wipe down with and continues their conversation from where Astarion interrupted it. Astarion leaves them to it, high tailing it to the rest of the party eating, where he immediately starts asking if anyone's noticed anything strange about Ronan.

Everyone has.

It starts a heated debate. What's going on down there? There's no penis. No vagina. Just a bulge under some wrinkles. How do dragonborns become dragon…borned?

It's mostly between Astarion, Wyll, and Lae'zel as Shadowheart is present but silent and making a sour face about the whole thing. It isn't until Lae'zel suggests, gleefully, Ronan is perhaps a eunuch or maybe castrated for some crime in his past and Wyll wonders if perhaps this is part of being a worshiper of the platinum dragon that Shadowheart speaks up. She snaps that no, that has nothing to do with Bahamut as far as she knows and also this is a very childish and unnecessary discussion to be having about one of their group.

Until Astarion interrupts to ask in a small panic if this is part of having the tadpole in their brains and what if he's slowly starting to turn into one of those things, and that gets Shadowheart’s full, horrified participation. The conversation turns to that; what if this will happen to all of them and is that actually what's happening? Should they be worried? Wouldn't it look…smoother?

Gale parts with Ronan as the dragonborn is now dress and intends to journal, Gale getting shooed with a glare and yet there's a skip in his step during his short trek back to the party, where he is immediately subsumed into the conversation. This makes him giddy as all hell when he realizes what the topic of conversation is and he’s quick to dismiss the more outlandish notions, his too many hours reading ahem non-academic works on the anatomy of various non-humanoid races lending confidence to his lessons on how how their cleric’s whole business probably works. Which is all well and good, until, in the midst of his excited explanation, he lets slip that there is a rumor he’s read, never confirmed of course, heavens forbid he ever ask anyone something like this, that male dragonborns could, perhaps, have a second appendage tucked away.

And then all hell break’s loose again, Wyll standing up and stating he’s going to go do anything else while the other four continue a heated argument about that. Across the camp, with a light spell and his journal in hand, Ronan steadfastly ignores the conversation he’s been catching snippets of. It's not the first time a company he’s joined has taken special interest in parts of him and, if he lives through all this, it probably won’t be the last.

If any of them get the pleasure of finding out, then they should feel so honored.

[sunflowerrosewood]

Imagine.... Lance Confessing To You After You Become Champion

Author's Note: Since my other account @cheekyredwillow got deleted. I am adding some of my favorite fanfictions to this account and revamping this one with new ones. I hope to make an actual list of fandoms I am still a fan of! NO requests for the time being.

On to the imagine. Imagines are short blurbs of a character in a scenario with you.

Imagine you enter the pokemon league with the team of favorite pokemon in the Johto region. You have spent constant months on building a team you would love and here they are. All 8 badges and now the league.

Imagine the nerves you get when entering the league as this is a test of all your hard work. All this hard work is going to pay off. And then you'll see him again.

Imagine your heart leaps in excitement as you thought of the dragon tamer Lance. Lance - the one who helped you throughout your journey from Team Rocket to your gym badges. The many mini conversations you two had about other things. It felt like you two had a connection.

Imagine your team beats every gym leader with ease and you stand at the last obstacle. Lance. The Champion. Your chest is heavy with anticipation and also a bit of excitement to see him again.

Imagine as you enter the Champion room Lance turns to you and you notice a faint blush on his cheeks. He smiles brightly at you. Before you begin, he congratulates you on making this far and being impressed by you.

Imagine Lance's hands are a little shaky as seeing you again sparks the fire that the crush on you had. This anticipation to ask you out but waiting till you complete the League so you could focus.

Imagine you enter your fight with Lance. The battle takes longer than the past ones. Both of you are equally the same level and experience. You two can fight and challenge one another.

Imagine you two are at your last pokemon. A Dragonite on his side and your starter pokemon on the other. You tell your starter to hit a big move as Lance yells a hyper beam. Both moves hit and your starter is the last one standing.

Imagine Lance congratulating you and telling you that you need to put your name in the records. He shakes your hand and holds it tightly to show how proud he is.

Imagine after you register your name in the records as a new Champion that Lance is waiting for you. You are surprised and he is blushing. He stumbles on his words and confesses he has had a crush on you for a while.

Imagine he explains that he did not confess due to not wanting to get in the way of your adventure to become Champion. But now that it is over, he would like to take you on a date. To show how much he has a crush on you. You say yes and the two of your exchange numbers to set up the date.

[txmbstone]

Hi there. Will you write what Curly Bill and Johnny Ringo are like when they get jealous 🤷‍♀️🤗

Oh my gosh you have no idea how excited this request made me 😂 (ignore this is hella late life has been kicking my ass lately) i also got carried away with Johnny’s but that’s alright

Curly Bill

If you thought this man would stay silent about the matter you are sorely mistaken

The moment he sees any one else catching your attention he is immediately heading over

He doesn’t really have a plan he just knows the outcomes can range from embarrassing the hell out of the poor sod trying to get your attention to a house fire to actual murder (seriously get him a little doped up on opium and he is out for fucking blood)

He just strolls on over, looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world, thumbs tucked in his sash and his spurs clicking with his every step

Gives you that big bright smile full of teeth and eyes glimmering with violence

And just plants one right on your lips. No hello, no warning, just a big ole smack on the lips so hard you literally stumble back a moment and he’s got his arm around your waist to pull you in even closer to him

“Sorry I took so long, doll. Got a little caught up in private affairs.” He croons, ignoring the man entirely, pretending he doesn’t even exist. (He knows the men in this town, he knows that they crave attention more than anything, and he finds it absolutely rewarding to watch their faces deflate when they see you’re taken.)

He’ll keep his hands on you until the man clears his throat, catching both of yours attention, and that’s when the game begins

Brocius is an asshole about it. Unlike Johnny, he uses his words, and will catch the attention of every Cowboy within shouting distance to stake his claim. “Looks like you’ve got something that belongs to me, thank you for keeping them occupied while I tended to business,” his hand travels to the butt of his gun, playing with the hammer in warning

He nearly cackles when the man’s face loses a few shades of color, stuttering over apologies as Brocius leads you away

Johnny Ringo

I hate to admit it but he doesn’t really show his jealousy but lemme explain

Johnny is so secure in himself and your relationship he knows — deep down he knows that you would never try something. You both are so incredibly attuned with each other and your trust knows no bounds

That doesn’t mean that little green dragon doesn’t flare up every now and then

He likes that you both have your own independence (so he can hide the awful things he’s done from you and all your ‘golden glory’ as he calls it) but there’s also a small part of him that wants you all to himself. He wants you so carnally there are days he physically has to stay away from you or else the thoughts in his head are going to push him over the edge just at the sight of you smiling at him

So when this ravenous man sees you talking to some dressed up gentleman at the bar while you went to get a drink he’s immediately going balls to the wall

He won’t show it, but when you give the gentleman a polite smile and make your way back over to him, that’s when he ups the ante

And this man is absolutely sinful

Just as you’re about to sit in your chair next to him, he’ll grab you by your waist and plant you firmly in his lap. And right in view of everyone — and especially Mister Soon-to-be-six-feet-under — plant a hickey right on your neck while his free hand makes work of remapping its way around your body. He presses you so close into his body you can feel the outline of his bullets on his bandoliers through your thick clothing, and try not to look the gentlemen in the eye as Johnny practically manhandles you in plain view

It’s fun for you, to know that you can still rile up the infamous Johnny Ringo, and enjoy the sudden attention even when the man leaves

“That was mean, Johnny,” you tell, taking a sip from his glass

You notice he pays specific attention to your throat as you swallow, not even trying to hide the immense pride he gets at seeing the bruise starting to form. “He’ll get over it.”

[fandomnerd9602]

So I saw the genderbend hiccup X Male Reader and thought what if Reader's dragon can talk and a scene similar to the Transformers *sniff sniff* "judging by their pheromones they both wish to mate"

Dragon Talks Fem!Hiccup x Male Reader

Everything was going rather smooth between you and Hicca. Peace between Berk and Doon was well established and you always looked forward to your little “peace meetings” with the young dragon rider. Your dragon Snowstorm was looking forward to seeing her boyfriend, Toothless too. But another thing that Snowstorm was noticing was your interactions with Hicca. They were awkward and yet totally cute too. The way Hicca would balance on her one good leg and fold her hands behind her back when she spoke with you. The little ways you’d wrestle in the grass. The giggles that escaped Hicca’s lips when you kissed her cheek. It all made Snowstorm purr with delight, just seeing her best friend happy was all that mattered. But yet something bothered the Light Fury and she needed to tell you about it. Snowstorm found you talking with Hicca, rather nervously again. Hicca was blushing and you were trying to accentuate the idea of going on a date with her. Snowstorm gestures to you and then points around the corner of one of the huts. “Sorry Hicca” you nervously say, “I think Snowstorm needs me” You run off leaving Hicca and Toothless looking in your direction rather confused. You approach the Light Fury, “what is it Snowstorm?” The Light Fury touches her forehead to yours as all of reality disappears, leaving only you and your dragon in the astral space. It was a little trick you and her learned, a way for dragon and human to communicate without the barrier of language. “You were doing it again” Snowstorm chimes in, the astral plane assigning her a British accent (think Emilia Clarke). “Doing what?“ “You were stumbling over your words in front of Hicca” Snowstorm rolls her eyes, “I can practically smell it when you’re near her.” “Smell what? You have to be more specific” you say back to the white dragon. “Your pheromones!” Snowstorm laughs, “and I can smell hers too. It’s like you both wish to mate. So why won’t you?!” “If I was drinking ale right now, I’d spit it out” you answer back, “it’s not that simple, Snow” “What is not that simple?” Snowstorm asks, “you like her. She likes you. Just mate already” “Thanks for trying to be my wing dragon” you joke, “but there are certain…ideas at play here” “Such as?” “Courting…asking…setting a date…marriage” you sigh, “I wanna marry her, Snow. Don’t dragons have rituals too?” “Well the male signals his interest with a call” Snowstorm explains, “and then he tries a dance, or draws a picture in the sand…how come Toothless hasn’t attempted that yet?!?” “That’s a problem for another day” “Right sorry.” the dragon huffs, “and then we fly high above the clouds, entangling our tails as an act of love and devotion and so on and so on.” “See? Both our cultures have traditions and rituals” “Sorry, Y/N” Snowstorms looks to you sheepishly. “I just want my rider to be happy” “I am. I got you and Hicca.” The world flashes back to normal as Hicca runs up to you, “what happened right now?” “Special dragon meeting ground” you explain, “I’ll have to get Snowstorm to show it you and Toothless later” Toothless looks rather nervously to Snowstorm. She purrs right back at the black dragon. “So Hicca,” you approach your gal, “would you like to go out with me tonight? Just you and me?” Hicca smiles back, “I’d love that. Very much” You smile at her, she smiles at you. And a very nosy white dragon gives you a wink of approval.

[owlespresso]

longing. aymeric/reader is a sequel to Slake. tags: hurt/comfort, possessiveness, dragoon!reader, implied estimeric/wol

You’re not completely sure why you’re here. The past few hours are like rainwater down a slope, memories like chunks of dirt and rock swept down hills and crags. Brain smoothed out, moss washed off river rock by the current. Bogged down with rainwater, clothed stuck tight to your body in a vacuum seal, dripping wet and cold onto the lacquered wood of his estate’s floor.

House Borel seems bigger at night, shadows stretched to encompass most of the room, though beaten back by the dimming fireplace. Aymeric was likely readying for bed before you stumbled in through the door like an ambling drunkard, wasted off your own wallowing. He owes you nothing. You left him alone—abandoned him in pursuit of a man who didn’t wish to be found. 

Still, he shepherded you inside the manor yawning threshold and up the stairs, peeled you from your layers with a diligence that still surprises you. The shirt you’re wearing now is his. It smells like him, clean and soft like fresh linens, with a familiar dash of cologne. The smallclothes you’re in are also his. 

He keeps sending you fretful, furtive glances as he flits through the room, shoving curtains closed and fiddling with some things on his desk with fumbling fingers. There’s the sound of the drawers slamming shut, and then he’s heading for the door—leaving you. You bite your lip, push back the carnal, desperate need to follow, follow, follow. To nip at his heels and live under his skin. 

“I will return posthaste,” he jerks backwards to send you a pleading glance, as though you needed any further persuasion. “—do not go anywhere.” His tone is low and authoritative. He rarely ever talks to you that way, but it sends a shiver down your spine. To be coveted. To have your presence so demanded and craved.

When he returns, he pushes the mug into your hands, and moves to sit on the armchair close to the couch. Yet, you reach out and snag him by the sleeve. Without so much as a word, he takes the cue and settles next to you. He’s warm and solid when you press into his side, pressing your face into the side of his shoulder, inhaling deep.

“I take it your rendezvous with Estinien did not go well,” he says, careful and measured, like you are some treasure that will break if handled too roughly, or some beast that will snap its jaws at him the moment he tests your patience. You prefer the former.

“He’s not coming back. Not anytime soon,” you murmur, taking a sip of the still-hot beverage. Before, it would have scalded your tongue and the roof of your mouth. Now, it goes down easy. Another mild perk that comes with whatever it is that you’ve become. Aymeric sighs next to you.

“I cannot speak for our wayward friend. He is never wont to take the easy, worn path, however he will return to us eventually. It seems my presence must suffice, for the time being.” he says with a small, woeful smile. Your heart plummets. He feels thoroughly inadequate and you are to blame.

“You’re not—you don’t need to compare yourself to him. I care deeply for you both. Equally. I just needed closure after everything that happened. Sharing the title of Azure Dragoon has… connected us in a peculiar way. When he left, everything I felt… the disappointment, the confusion, the need for closure—it just became amplified. Unbearable.” you explain, doing your best to illustrate the intensity of your feelings without frightening him. Aymeric has been at your side since you arrived in Ishgard, a constant force of warmth and acceptance. Yet, a part of you still fears he will find you alien, find your dragon-borne tendencies too strange to stomach. “It was like a constant migraine, something I could physically feel. I had to go to him or I would go mad with it.”

Aymeric’s expression softens. The pad of his thumb rubs over your cheek, caressing the skin beneath your eye. 

“Forgive me. I have known for quite some time about the… unique bond you share with Estinien. However, I was unaware of its extent, or the effects his sudden leaving would have on you.” Aymeric sounds troubled as he brings you closer, arm wrapped around you to squeeze. 

“Yes, well—” you swallow, unsure of what else to say. A sudden weariness crushes around your form like the rough, churning tides of the sea. The energy sags out of you all at once. You reach a hand to cradle the side of your face, eyes slipping shut. 

“Are you alright?” Aymeric asks, shifting closer. You can hear the panic beginning to seep into his voice. “Shall I call for the chirurgeons? Wait here, I—”

“No, there’s no need,” you grasp his sleeve, imploring him to stay with your eyes. “I’m tired from the journey, that's all. I’ll be fine after I get some rest.”

“Then rest,” Aymeric says softly, sounding like a soothe but coming as a command. You don’t mind. As the Warrior of Light, countless look to you as a source of inspiration and guidance. It’s nice to let someone else take the reins. 

“Carry me?” your voice is a near whisper.

“Of course,” Aymeric yields to your requests so easily, every time. He even takes your mug from you, gently resting it on the end table beside the couch. He’ll come back for it once you’re settled in bed, and bring it to you. You know already. Strong arms scoop you off the couch and cradle you close to a well-muscled chest. He rarely ever sees battles, but he still finds the time to train meticulously, should his strength be truly needed. Long have you known that he wishes to rest his mantle as Ishgard’s leading authority, but a part of you cannot help but like that he’s tethered here. Safe, within the city’s thick walls, so far from so many things that could hurt him. 

Would he hate you, if you told him as much? Would he look at you differently? You don’t know. And you’re not keen to find out, not keen to lose another treasure.

“Rest now, my beloved.” he murmurs against your temple. You let yourself go limp in his hold.

[fullfiresiren]

unconquered // 3

[3; settle the silence] [read on ao3]

There comes no word from Prince Aemond. 

After he unceremoniously left you in the gardens of the red keep during the midst of what you believed was a pleasant, albeit heavy conversation, you stood in quiet reflection of what went wrong. Asking after your memories of a time passed, questioning you about your parents, your life in Valyria, he stumbled over himself, almost as if he had regrets about asking. Better to leave the questions hanging heavy in the pleasant air than be forced to swallow them down again. And so, he turned and never looked back. Not even once. 

You knew he would ask, sooner or later. He is no different from the rest. You can almost see the heavy words forming on the lips of those who know when they speak to you – the only thing they care to ask you. 

What was Valyria like? 

What do you remember of it? 

Tell us everything.

You know nothing, last daughter of Valyria. Why do you cry? The vast expanse of knowledge is lost to everyone, and you alone are the sole hope of restoring it – of passing it down to future generations. Without you, everything is forgotten. Forever. Heavy is the crown, but only for the weak. 

Reading whatever book comes to hand does nothing to take your mind off its racing thoughts. Nor does meandering the immense and endless corridors of the Red Keep. You pace the large expanse of your room, all alone, in everything you do, sighing heavy to no one. The silence screams back. When it does, Archeon roars louder, and so, you make for the door of your room, intent on carving out a path to the dragonpit, flying together above the city, over the lands, high into the clouds, skimming the edges of the great ocean. You reach for the handle, and pull. 

The silver armoured back of your sworn sword greets you. Ser Erryk turns, a little surprised by your forceful opening of the door, but he bows to you, nonetheless. 

“High Lady (y/n),” he nods. “May I accompany you somewhere?” 

King Viserys gifted you a knight when you were welcomed into court. Someone of such value and notoriety should always be protected and kept safe, he said, and the sword of a Kingsguard -- one as trained and proven as Ser Erryk – would ease his worries. 

Unbeknownst to you, Prince Aemond offered his sword before all others. His father laughed him aside, thinking his pure intent a joke. 

“No need, Ser Erryk,” you smile slightly, “I am on my way to the pit to visit my dragon, but I should be back before the sun sets.” 

Ser Erryk nods again, but it’s curt, and he looks uncomfortable. 

“Is something the matter--?” 

“It’s just... I was told... that...” his white cloak sways when he shifts from one foot to the other. He looks at you, holds your gaze, as if he wants you to accept something unspoken. 

You will not. 

“Accompany me there if you wish,” you voice, holding his stare. “Or do not. It matters not to me.” 

Pushing past him, he knows better than to physically restrain you, and nor would he ever lay hands on a woman. His orders are clear, however, and he bites his lips anxiously. 

“My lady,” he calls out, grabbing two sets of robes stored close to him. At his words, you halt, but do not turn towards him. “Please wait a moment.” 

You sigh, frustrated. “Ser Erryk, if you do not wish to accompany me, it is of little consequence--” 

You are draped in a hooded cloak, thick woven wool covering your body, and you peek out from under the hood, blinking up at your sworn sword, confused. He is removing the more noticeable parts of his armour – breastplate, pauldrons, gauntlets – and throwing on a cloak of his own. It is obvious he means to accompany you but wishes for the two of you to go unnoticed. You wonder why that is. 

“This way, my lady,” he whispered, directing you opposite of the way you originally intended, explaining, “a shortcut, so we won’t be seen.” 

You follow him deeper into the Red Keep, until you reach a particular stone wall, just like all the rest. Ser Erryk feels around, until his fingers find a brick, entirely unassuming to you, but when he forces it in on itself, the wall groans, and swings open to reveal a descending stone staircase, dark and damp. You must look apprehensive. 

“Don’t worry, my lady,” Ser Erryk reassures, “I will be right here with you. You may take my arm if you wish.” 

Not wanting to slip, your hand finds his waiting arm, and you begin the descent together, the stone wall sliding shut behind you. It’s incredibly dark – almost impossibly so, and your other hand feels for the stone beside you as a guide. 

“Why is it necessary to take this path, Ser?” you ask, calling out to the darkness. 

“It is better for the both of us if we are unseen. Please do not ask any more, my lady,” he hushes, “I wish not to involve you in the politics of the crown.” 

Reluctant to press the matter, you instead focus on reaching the bottom of the stairs, unable to shake the feelings that there are affairs and dealings that are being hidden – ones that you have been deliberately kept isolated from. The crown is plotting something. Ser Erryk almost said as much. 

The stairs end abruptly when light pours in from an opening – a closed door – and Ser Erryk directs you through it with careful movements and a gentle hand. You realise you are at the base of the castle, outside the walls, almost directly in the city of King’s Landing. The passageway is a secret known to few, and now, has been passed to you. 

“If you ever wish to leave the castle without being noticed, you should use the way I showed you, my lady,” Ser Erryk explains, leading you onwards through the cobbled streets, “Very few know of it. I’m not sure even the king does.” 

You grip the fabric of your gown tighter when some passers-by give you strange looks that linger too long and lower your head. 

“I see,” you mumble, focusing on his back as he meanders with ease through the growing crowds. 

There is a foul stench in the air, and you cover your nose to block out the scent. You have been told about the area you assume you are passing through now – one that lays at the lower side of Rhaeny’s Hill. Known by the locals as Flea Bottom, it is a necessary area to traverse if you wish to reach that which sits at the top. Although usually, the Targaryen's will be accompanied by either Kingsguard, sit within a carriage, or both. You, however, must take your own measures. The muck and dirt of the street soils the bottom of your gown – a telling sign of your travels -- and you make an uncomfortable noise. 

Ser Erryk must sense your discomfort. “We are almost there now, my lady.” 

The Dragonpit looms ever visible from the streets below, and only becomes more monstrous once you reach the ascending stone steps, like a stairway to the skies. You feel insignificant in its presence, a sobering reminder of how mortal you are, legs burning once you reach the top. 

“I will wait for you here, my lady,” Ser Erryk offers, standing watch. 

“The ride will not take long, Ser,” you assure, “thank you for your kindness.” 

He seems taken aback by your words, but nods, watching you as you walk inside. 

The dragon keepers are out in mass, conversing about something of importance, and your sudden appearance seems to be the very last thing they wish to see. They exchange looks between themselves, and it does not go unnoticed by you. 

“Good evening,” you greet. “Is Archeon well? I miss him dearly, and I have come to ride him.” 

There is no reply. At first, you wonder if they have heard and understood you, but it soon dawns on you that they are purposefully not responding. 

“Where is he?” you call out to the dragon keepers, your mother tongue catching them off guard. 

They look between one another, and then to the ground below. 

“He is sizeable,” you sigh, annoyed. “It would be a feat in itself for him to escape without anyone seeing or hearing him.” 

“He broke free of the pit, my lady,” the elder replies. “...again”

The adjustment, admittedly, has been harder on Archeon than you. Confined in the Dragonpit at the request of the king and court, when he is used to freedom and open skies, hunting when he wishes, flying together with you. To them, he is a wild dragon; unknown. To you is the other half of your soul. You cannot live if he dies, and without him, you are nothing. 

“Does anyone know where he is?”

“By the water’s edge,” they explain. “We are trying to bring him back.”

Just as they said, he is lounging by the breaking tides, a gargantuan black mass sprawled against soft sand that has pushed up around him, sticking to his scales. There are a few dragon keepers milling around but choosing wisely to keep their distance. He snorts at one that gets a little too close, sand and dust kicking up in a storm at tunnels at the man. At your arrival, Archeon lifts his head, chittering lowly in acknowledgement of your presence, and you wave off the remaining keepers, assuring them all is well. 

Rising to his full height to meander over, he coos lowly when you reach for him. You must crane your neck to take in the full size of him, his expanse far encompassing yours. He is the most wondrous thing you’ve ever seen; each and every time you lay eyes on him, it is as if you have forgotten how regal your dragon is. Pure black, golden eyes, soft and deep, Archeons gaze sees through you into your soul, heart beating in time with yours. He’s unlike anything you’ve seen, and even as the sky clouds, as the world around you becomes dull, he stays as bright and beautiful as always. 

He lowers his head to you, hot breath fanning across your body. 

“Escaping again, my heart?” you murmur, hand splaying across his muzzle. 

He nudges you, indignant, and settles down against the sand once more. The weight of him lowering to the ground rumbles the earth beneath your feet, and you stumble a little. He huffs, unmoving. 

“I will not force you to stay somewhere you dislike so much,” you explain, his eyes watching you intently. “Would you prefer to stay here on the shores?”

He blinks at you. It is obvious he does. 

“Alright,” you smile, “Alright.”

Your hand skims his scales, and he closes his eyes at the sensation. Beneath your palms, you feel the deep rumble of each breath, and if you focus, even the beat of his heart. Walking further backwards to his neck, you lean against him to signal your wish to mount. He abides, shifting his weight so his shoulder touches the floor, and you climb on - as you have done countless times before. Archeon is without saddle and reins; you ride him free, feet tucking under one of the many protruding horns adoring his back, anchoring you in place, while your hands grip where they can. 

On the back of your dragon is where you have always been most comfortable. Rain begins to fall but you notice not, once he rises and extends his wings, they beat once, waves spray, sand kicks up, and he ascends. Taking to the skies, his wings become yours, wind rushes past you as you climb higher, and soon, he is soaring through the dark clouds, chittering happily at the ability to spread his wings and be free. He dips low, skimming across the sea, foam spraying up at the size of him, and when he beats his wings to climb high, even the ocean itself bows before him. Grey clouds part as he flies amongst them, and you released an elated shout, unable to contain your happiness. It’s the first time since you’ve arrived in King’s Landing that you’ve felt this joyful. Archeon mimics your emotion, feeling it course through him as it does for you, and yips, chittering his jaws. It could be minutes, it could be hours, but your perception of time seems to disappear when you fly with him, any moment you spend with him all-consuming. 

Something sounds out from the bleak. It’s far off, haunting, and sad, and you cannot help but turn your head and search for it. Your vision is all but obscured from the heavy rainfall and dark grey clouds, and squinting does nothing to aid your sight. There’s some kind of shadow that’s darting through the far off clouds, moving too fast for you to make out any real shape - other than a large mass of something too vague to name. Your curiosity leads you to urge Archeon to follow, but when it calls out again, you realise it’s a dragon. Although he is amongst the largest of those living, something tells you to abandon your thoughts to pursue another into the bleak. It may belong to a Targaryen, or perhaps a member of their sibling house Velaryon, of whom may have had the same idea as you – a flight over the narrow sea with their dragon. Or then again, it may not. You’ve been told briefly in the passing that there exist wild and unclaimed dragons that live somewhere on the island of Dragonstone. All three are unfriendly, and you are not sure which this is. Better to leave the unknown alone. 

By the time you descend upon the shores of Kings Landing, it is to a heavy deluge, and you are soaked through, drenched and freezing. Archeon cares not about the weather, and, unlike others of his kind, had always found a natural affinity with the water. He snorts when you dismount, wishing you would stay longer. 

“I shall be back soon, my heart,” you reassure, leaning against his muzzle, “you know this.”

He gazes past you, and you turn to follow it. Ser Erryk stands, as drenched as you, and your heart pangs with guilt. Around him crowd a mass of knights, who you assume correctly to be from the Kingsguard. Archeon makes a warning noise, but you settle him. He is suspicious of the gathered crowd. As are you. 

“They have come to escort you back to Kings Landing, my lady!” Ser Erryk shouts, and over the growing storm, you can hardly make him out. 

“Do not return to the pit,” you remind Archeon, turning to him. “Do as you please, but keep level.”

His tail swipes through the sand, kicking up wet masses of it that tumble towards the gathered men. A few must step backwards to avoid it catching them. The message is a clear one, as he snorts, and turns away, moving to find a place to rest. 

I am ever watching. 

The walk back to the Red Keep is high strung and tense. You are surrounded on all sides as you walk, Ser Erryk keeping pace to your immediate right, and the storm says unrelenting. Small droplets of water balance on your eyelashes when you crane your neck to look up at the colossal structure of the King’s castle, and when you blink, they stream down your cheeks, cold, like tears. 

The silence is back, and you shiver in its presence. 

The lashing rain has driven mostly everyone indoors, and even the large courtyard of the Red Keep is hauntingly empty. Like everyone has abandoned her. The inside is no different. The Kingsguard relinquish you into the sole custody of Ser Erryk, who escorts you to your chambers in silence. You think of your dragon, of Archeon, of his siblings. You wonder if they are as alone in this world as you. 

When the approaching footsteps of another make their announcement, you peer out from behind the silver armour of your sworn sword, to meet the eyes of the Hand. Otto Hightower gives you a strange look, as you appear entirely drenched, and he wonders what in the name of the Gods you were doing outside during such a heavy rainfall. 

He greets you as he passes, nonetheless. “High Lady (y/n).” 

“Ser,” you nod. You pass like ships in the night, or, you would, had you not turned. “Ah, a moment, please.” 

He stops, and appears to sigh, before turning to you - dripping over the grand stone of the Kings halls, no less. He eyes the floor where you stand, before casting his eyes to yours. 

“What may I do for you, my lady?” 

It’s less of a question, and more of a bland statement. Your jaw clenches involuntarily. 

“My dragon,” you begin, and something pieces together in the Hand’s eyes. “Archeon. He despises the Dragonpit and is having a hard time adjusting. I wish not for him to stay there any longer.” 

A moment passes, and then Ser Otto bows. “I will speak to the king on this matter, High Lady (y/n), and we shall decide the best course of action to take. Please do not worry any more about this.” 

“You misunderstand,” you call out. “I am telling you that he is no longer residing within the Dragonpit and will not be kept confined. Telling you is simply an act of kindness.” You watch him still, and the still-burning embers of royalty within you stoke themselves. “My dragon will be coming and going as he pleases on the shores of Kings Landing. Rest assured he will not harm anyone unless provoked. Be sure to relay this information to the court, and anyone else you feel should know. Good day to you.” 

Otto stands speechless as you turn on your heels and stride away, trailing water as you go, and your knight has little choice but to bow to him and follow. He stays there for a while, relaying the events in his head, unbelieving and yet, compelled to obey. Truly, there is nothing he can say to you without consequence. 

His feet carry him to his predetermined destination, and when he arrives at his daughter's room, he is unsurprised to see his grandchildren there with her. The Queen sits by the fire, drinking wine and warming herself, and the princess Helaena sews quietly. His grandson, Prince Aemond, is reading, deeply engrossed in his book, one eye focused on the old pages. He assumes Prince Aegon is whoring somewhere in Flea Bottom or drinking himself drunk at one of the taverns. More likely both. 

At his arrival, only the Queen looks up. 

“Father,” she greets, “Please sit.” 

“As you wish, your grace,” he smiles, crossing the room to take the seat opposite her. 

The room is silent for a moment, and Aemond wonders if you have returned safely to the Red Keep yet. Would you appreciate a visit from him, or would that be far too presumptuous, knowing how the last time you spent together ended? He attempted to visit you earlier today, but found no guard, and upon knocking at your door, no answer. You were not within the castle, nor the grounds, and when he begins to grow concerned, he commands the Kingsguard to find you, search the city if they have to, but find you they must, and return you safely. Return his future wife safely. Or their heads be it. 

“I passed your bride-to-be moments ago.” 

Aemond brightens at your mention, lifting his head to his grandfather. “You did?” 

“I did,” he sits with a sigh. “Soaked to the core and dripping rainwater all over the stone. She made a note to tell me her dragon will not be staying at the pit any longer.” 

“She just commanded?” Alicent questions, shocked. Aemond finds himself smiling at the knowledge of you standing your ground against his grandfather. His mother shakes her head. “Surely she is not allowed to simply--” 

“I am, unfortunately, at a loss with what to tell her. She is in command of a very large dragon – five of them, if she is not lying – and remains the only link to the old world. The king regards her highly and has made it plain that should she require or want for anything, we are to provide.” 

“She is no longer a royal,” Alicent sneers. “Just an heirloom that should have remained forgotten.” 

Aemond frowns, glancing down at his book on old Valyrian traditions. 

“Have you learned anything more?” 

The silver prince keeps his eyes glued to the worn pages, focusing on a section that has him particularly interested. His grandfather calls his name when he does not reply. 

“Have you gained any more information about her yet? Is she being honest about her dragons?” he presses. 

“I am not sure.” 

“Aemond you must do your best to find out everything you can,” his mother urges, slightly frantic. “It is our only hope to prepare a strong defence against her. What if she is being truthful? Five dragons, hundreds of years old, each one at her command – do you know what she could do with that kind of power?” 

He remains silent, eyes casting over the paragraph before him. 

It is said that Valyrians answered to neither gods nor men, and their power derived from dark magic and dragons. Many historians argue that the Valyrians thought of themselves as dragons – existing as one single entity, not as a separate dragon and rider. It would explain their innate ability to speak to one another, and to understand the other’s thoughts and feelings. Some have claimed that their bond goes far beyond even that - that it is a connection of the soul--

“Aemond.” 

His eyes linger. Connection of the soul.

“Yes, mother,” he sighs, closing his book sharply and standing. “I will do my best.” 

“Good,” she sighs, relaxing. “Good.” 

“Remember that you are doing this for your family, and for the good of the realm,” Otto calls after him, watching him leave. 

Conflicted, he realises he sometimes hates the realm. 

He hates the other, too.

[part 4]

[rolloollor]

Though Three Drops of Blood is pretty short, I'm still gonna do a post mortem about it. Mainly I'll be discussing the original tale (The Dragon of the North) and talking about what I used from it and what I did differently.

First and foremost, Malleus plays the role of two characters that appear in the original. Obviously the dragon (which seems to have been a giant frog in earlier versions? that'd explain why it just sat around) and a female character called the Witch Maiden. The hero stumbles upon her bathing in a magical spring that maintains her youth. She invites him back to her home, which has those magical servants that dress in white. To her credit, she doesn't do any hypnosis and she doesn't trap him. Since Malleus was also the dragon, and the dragon just has to lock eyes with something and it hurls itself into its mouth, I figured that's basically a form of hypnosis so why not.

Anyway, she offers to marry the hero, there's the three drops of blood stipulation, etc. The birds warned the hero that giving her that blood would mean she would steal his soul. He doesn't end up going for it. But who knows, right? She says she needs it to ensure their love lasts forever. What if that was the truth? We don't know since the word of birds apparently holds more weight. What if they're wrong? Dude would rather trust animals. I'm the Witch Maiden defense force and she deserved better.

She shows him the ring, tells him she'll give it to him when they wed, shows him the different methods of using it, and he basically goes, "Haha cool. I don't believe you though, can I try?" and she lets him. He flies up into the air with it and she laughs and says, "Come back, friend, for now you see I have told you the truth!" And he just flies the fuck away. Less dramatic than the wedding scene I went with, but it's like... more mean-spirited? I dunno, I feel like maybe he could have worked out a deal to borrow it. She has 0 connection to the dragon, so... And she wasn't threatening him at all. Again, you're gonna trust a couple of birds over a lady that housed and fed you just because? Who's rich and offered to live with you like royalty (she says "like princes")? Who handed over the ring so you could try it out? Who asked for a paltry offering of three drops of blood? What was this dude thinking?? A rare fairy tale protag that's wary and it ends up biting him in the ass.

After defeating the dragon, he marries a princess (becoming a prince) and lives a pretty sweet life... until the Witch Maiden finds him. She takes the ring back, abducts him, locks him up in a cave, and feeds him just enough each day to ensure he doesn't die. The hero's eventually rescued by some knights and returns to his good life, but he didn't have to go through that needless (though not undeserved) suffering if he'd just negotiated a deal with the Witch Maiden. Come on man.

"‘Now, villain, you are in my power!’ cried the Witch Maiden. ‘I favored you with my love, and you repaid me with treachery and theft. You stole my most precious jewel from me, and do you expect to live happily as the King’s son-in-law? Now the tables are turned; you are in my power, and I will be revenged on you for your crimes.’ ‘Forgive me! forgive me!’ cried the Prince; ‘I know too well how deeply I have wronged you, and most heartily do I repent it.’"

Really, asshole? He made no attempt to return the ring to her or anything. I didn't want to do this part of the story for Malleus and Rollo, so I changed things. But I was very "hell yeah get his ass" when the Witch Maiden confronted the hero.

The last line of the fairy tale is, "Now, if YOU had been the Prince, would you not rather have stayed with the pretty Witch Maiden?" Even the narrator nudges us and gestures at the hero like "What a fuckin moron." And Rollo does stay with the pretty dragon fae. I couldn't do that same ending or phrasing, so I did something I felt was kind of similar with the Rook bird. He appears throughout the fic and it was interesting to have him have the last word.

Now, about the dragon itself. The confrontation with the dragon in the tale is pretty different... mainly in that the hero brutally kills it. He gets an iron horse on wheels, chains, and iron spear, etc. As he's heading north, a raven gives him last minute advice, which I didn't adopt. You think Crowley's gonna come in and save the day? No way. The advice was, while invisible, for him to ride the iron horse but use his spear like an oar and push himself along. The dragon sits around with its mouth open and the hero paddles himself and the iron horse inside. Before the dragon bit down, the hero stabbed the roof of its mouth with an iron spear, then he jumped off the horse. So now the dragon is hurt and can't close its mouth properly, so it can't eat him. The hero then chains the dragon down for a few days. It tires itself in the struggle to free itself and then the hero beats it to death with the help of the ring. Obviously I took a different path.

Rollo offers himself almost as collateral to save his home, with an added bonus of getting to stay with Malleus. I couldn't really delve as deeply into the emotions of it all as much as I might have in other fics, but he fell in love with Malleus at first sight and, while he has done some terrible things and killed a lot of people (maybe a bunch of fae as well?), he's lonely and pathetic. And really, the desperate consumption of everyone around him could be seen as him trying to fill the void inside, right. Rollo can fix him. (or make him worse)

This turned out a lot longer than I thought it would be... But I think this fairy tale worked pretty well as a mallerollo story! With tweaks, of course.

[theluckywizard]

In the Shattering of Things, Chapter 37: From the Dust

In the Shattering of Things, Chapter 37: From the Dust

My Dragon Age: Inquisition long fic featuring my OC Rose Trevelyan, my Level 1 archer who romances both Cullen (slow burn) and Garrett Hawke (fast burn)

Longfic Summary:

Lady Rose Trevelyan's idle, aristocratic life blinks out in a haze of irrelevance when the breach destroys the Conclave. She may be soft and coddled when she joins the Inquisition, but there's a fierceness inside her she's yet to fully recognize. Armed with only a few relevant skills and the mark that makes her a legend, she is thrust onto a path delivering hope where it’s long been scorched away and finds comfort in the grumpy, handsome stick in the mud charged with her protection and training. As she stumbles her way across southern Thedas, she begins to realize she's tangled at the center of machinations she barely understands, and she's not alone in that. Enter Hawke.

Chapter Summary: Broken and fading, Rose is recovered from the mountain pass above Haven, another seeming miracle. As she recovers she wrestles with the ordeal she faced, all that she survived, the forces that enabled her survival and everything that stretches before her.

CW: Graphic descriptions of injuries and medical treatments

Excerpt:

By the time I wake again there’s daylight filtering in through the gaps in the canvas flaps. My arm is bound in a firm sling and my shoulder hurts less, but I can still feel the distant squeal of the red lyrium in the back of my mind. Across the tent, Candlelight wavers on a makeshift table where Cullen is hunched over a journal scratching notes. His quiet company, the gesture of his presence while I slept fills me with unexpected bliss which punches forcefully through the grief and guilt and exhaustion.

I attempt to roll up to sitting, the cot creaking and he jolts to attention from where he’d been referencing a book.

“Keeping out the riff raff?” I ask, attempting some lightness in spite of everything.

“You’re awake,” he says, stating the obvious but with relief, his expression soft, setting down his pencil and coming sheepishly across the tent. “How do you feel?”

“Like I was chucked against a trebuchet like a ragdoll,” I groan, clutching my shoulder in its sling. Cullen helps me up to sitting and then steps back again fidgeting anxiously.

“I offered to keep watch in case you woke up. Let me get Ellendra.”

“No, no–” I protest. “Just, stay for a minute.” He looks momentarily unsure, no doubt the propriety of my ask weighing on him slightly, but he nods and drags a crate over to sit on.

“Of course.” 

“Can you tell me the situation?” I ask. He runs his hand through his hair, his expression grim. 

“Thankfully we were able to get enough supplies up into the pass to shelter everyone in shifts. But we only have enough food for another week with the strictest rationing. Game is hard to come by up here and we need to start moving.”

“Have we made contact with anyone?” 

“Leliana and I have ravens out to the nearest strongholds and the Fereldan and Orlesian governments, but we haven’t received word from anyone yet. I have scouting teams trekking in three directions but their reports haven’t come back yet. I suspect I’ll have their birds by morning if not earlier.”

“How many are we? How many did we lose?” I ask anxiously. 

“We would have lost a lot more if it weren’t for you,” he says, avoiding the question. 

“Cullen.”

“Best estimate is we lost a hundred and fifty or so. It’s hard to know exactly as we never had official counts of civilians. And the other issue is that morale is low. If we don’t find a way to rally, we’re going to start losing people to their injuries,” he explains. “The healers we have on staff are talented but they are critically low on supplies. And they’re tired themselves.”

“Supplies they’re using on me,” I huff, annoyed with the situation. He chides me with a look. 

“It’s unfortunate, but you’re needed. Don’t be too hard on yourself,” he says. “I’m not sure what to do about the morale, but I’m hoping–”

“We need a direction. Something to look forward to.”

“I know,” he sighs, rubbing his neck. “You’ve always been better at that part. At the moment they don’t know much about how you are, only that you were recovered from the pass. Once Ellendra clears you to leave the tent it would be good to make the rounds.”

“I will,” I nod. Resting on his elbows, his hands clasped, he looks impossibly defeated in spite of having survived the attack of an enemy at least ten times stronger, against all odds. 

“What was Haven like? After,” he asks quietly. I sigh deeply. 

“It was a graveyard. Only the gate and the Chantry withstood the Avalanche. I was able to run to the Chantry’s door and hide around the corner, but I was still buried to my waist. And then the templars came scouting…”

“The templars?” he asks, sitting forward.

“Yes, their general was with them. They were looking for survivors… and me.”

“Samson,” he spits, shaking his head. “I can’t– I can’t believe– no. I can. He only ever wanted two things. He wanted authority. And he wanted lyrium. And I’m sure the Elder One offered them both.” Cullen seemed to be working it out to himself, trying to reconcile the friend he’d once known with the corrupted man who effortlessly pummeled into the snow.

“It must have been hard to see him like that,” I say, not knowing what else to say.

“Hard?” Cullen asks, a little bit forcefully. He shakes his head. “No. In a way it’s completely unsurprising. It makes me sick to think about it. I could have done more to convince the others to come to the Inquisition. I– should have–” He hunches over his knees again and rubs his forehead, his mouth pressed into a bitter frown.

“Cullen,” I say softly. “You can’t take that on yourself. I won’t let you.”

“I wish you luck in stopping me,” he scoffs quietly. He glances up and snorts a regretful laugh. “Forgive me.”

Read the whole chapter at AO3

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