zozoleesi

[zozoleesi]

✧ ˚ 　· 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫 𝐚 𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐦

Baela Targaryen x fem!dragonseed!reader x Jacaerys Velaryon 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: he never thought he'd be a man of such unseemly desires. yearning for a woman who was not his betrothed was beyond his imagination; beyond how he was raised. It is not as though he loved Baela any less— far from it— his infatuation with her has only grown since the war started, his protectiveness even more so. which was why he felt so... greedy. thereby failing to realize Baela's plight.

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬: porn w/ little plot, badly written, internalized homophobia (?), mostly from Baela and Jace's PoV, thoughts of infidelity, kinda ooc. 𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐬: experienced!reader (reader puts the whore in horrifying), mean!jace (?), cuckholding (?), loss of virginity (f/m), threesome (f/f/m), come eating, oral (f receiving), (horrible) dirty talk, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, slight bleeding, slight edging, creampie, r is implied to be daemon's so: canon typical targcest. pls lmk if i missed some!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 10.3k words (of bad writing) 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲: this is the worst writer i know!!! sorry this thing took a month :,> barely beta'd. we die like jace.

Their time together increased when they realized what they could lose in this war. The meals they took in the morn were held in each other’s chambers— unless called to dine with his mother. They’ve gone as far as laying in the same bed together to find enough comfort for sleep. They couldn’t find it in them to care when scrutinizing looks came from the lords, knowing their intentions with each other were completely innocent.

Though the weight of their loss cloud their judgment one evening…

They didn’t go as far as taking her maidenhead, yet the night their shared was one of passion—an escape from their sorrow. While he looks down on his uncle’s crude words he needn’t hear at that dinner table, he couldn’t deny the divine pleasure he had just experienced. Rivaling that of riding his dragon for the first time. Suppose he wasn’t that far off.

The morn came quickly with Baela’s chamber doors opening unexpectedly— Rhaenyra came in with Baela’s handmaiden, Elyse, to serve food after missing them at breakfast. Their flushed faces, mussed curls and unruly clothes told her of their nightly affairs and while Rhaenyra disapproved of their doings, she did not blame them for seeking comfort at a time like this. Although, that didn’t stop her from awkwardly handing Baela a cup of moon tea despite not knowing of how they did things, nor did she want to ask.

They assured his mother that would be the end of it. Yet found themselves in a mare’s nest when they met you..

A daughter born of low birth is already an unlucky fate, one born out of wedlock is even worse.

You were born with a white tuff on your head, and your mother knew you were more exposed to the world than ever and tried to protect you until winter fever caught her. She knew coin for medicine was scarce thus her decision to succumb to her sickness, relieving you of the burden of spending any more coin on a hopeless cause. Though you were relieved of the responsibility of taking care of your ailed mother, you were now left in a world that held nothing but injustice for you. A bastard.

Now here you were, years later, still stuck in this decrepit town that is Fleabottom— one your mother told you your father ruled over. If ‘ruling over’ meant gambling money in gambling dens and sampled whores for free in brothels—a brothel of which your mother worked in, and now at your age of two and three, you worked in. Fortunately for you, your labor wasn’t that of what women would usually have in a brothel. The owner, Walt, had recognized you as one of his worker’s children and bore the burden to keep you. He told you of your mother’s obsession toward Targaryens, which led you to believe she was lying about who your father truly was.

You were off to the brothel when you heard the silence of the usual busy streets.

“Behold! the traitor dragon, Meleys!” ”SLAIN AT ROOK’S REST BY YOUR KING!”

You scoffed at the sentence, until you realized the words spoken. You stare warily at the wagon parading the decapitated head of Red Queen- a massive box trailing behind it. The smallfolk stare at the god that had fallen, most of them bowing while some were too riddled with shock, only one thing in their minds; a dark omen. The rest of the day was filled with unease after what they had seen. The brothel was livelier than it was, yes, yet when you studied your clients’ behaviors, they all seemed rather hasty— not from the mead or ale you have served them, nor was it out of lust. Putting you even more on edge than when you heard the whispers of Queen Rhaenyra and her call for Targaryen bastards to go to Dragonstone among them.

Your prayers of ignoring the looming dread of war were unanswered when you were settling in for the night and Walt had entered your private quarters above the brothel with supper. He had always held the opinion that you deserved more than what you were given in life, though you believed he’d simply said that given that he raised you. Hence why when he heard that Rhaenyra was in need of a dragon rider, he immediately thought to tell you knowing that you would simply brush it off. He was proven correct when he was faced with your immediate protests the moment he stepped through the doors.

���They could make you a lady.” He persisted even as you finished your supper, you smirked into your cup, taking a sip of mead from your mug. “If I were a lady I wouldn’t be able to go to brothels freely.” “You don’t want to be a lady so you can keep whoring around?” he laughed incredulously, snatching the mug from your hands. You playfully clutched your non-existent pearls. ”My, you don’t think I’d want to see you again?” You chuckled, yet it seemed as though he got tired of the back and forth.

“You used to dream about riding your own dragon.” The playful air of the conversation shifts when you remember why you wanted a dragon. Days of your childhood looking up in wonder at the dragons soaring above your head. Wondering what it’d be like to be atop one of those creatures— your dream of taking your mother and flying across the Free Cities and starting anew.

“Look,” he sighed, taking your dirty dinnerware, “I know you’re not satisfied with the life you’ve lived here.” you looked at him silently, your brows knitting together the more he talked, “And don’t try to deny shit—I raised you.”

”Drowning yourself with ale, women and men isn’t going to fill that hole in your life.” And your lips twitch at that sentence considering there’s a hole that each of those could fill, but you were silenced with his stare. “I know you want to make something of your life, and it’s not gonna happen unless you make the first move.” And with that, he closed the door behind him, leaving you to lose yourself in your thoughts.

It wasn’t the fear of facing a dragon stopping you; what if you do take the initiative and you fail doing so? Wouldn’t that just prove everything you’ve heard your entire life? While you weren’t one to care for other people’s judgements of your lifestyle, you weren’t entirely proud of what you’ve done with your life either. Apparently the only thing you had to worry about when you arrived at Dragonstone was the Prince and Princess of the island.

It seems as though the tragedies they’ve endured were not enough to satisfy the Gods. Within a week they lost their grandmother, Rhaenys, and Jacaerys’ world comes crashing down when Addam of Hull— Corlys’ bastard—claims a dragon. He loses his only argument for his claim to the throne: his dragon. He couldn’t deny his mother’s logic, they could not win this war without these people after losing Meleys. He only wished she’d listen to him and not that strange woman.

Unsurprisingly, Baela did.

Not only did she listen to him, she made him realize that moping around would only prove the opinions of those who believe he is not deserving of the Targaryen name. She had also informed him of you, the girl who claimed Vermithor. Yet he still refused when Baela suggested to meet you. Regardless, he was glad to have another woman around in a castle for Baela after her sister was sent away. Despite his efforts to keep his distance from the dragonseeds, he was unfortunately greeted with Ulf’s filthy feet sitting carelessly atop the painted table.

He was so consumed with annoyance that he didn’t notice your presence until you reaffirmed his royal position to the man and when he turned to face you, his thoughts got jumbled, his eyes struggling to stray away from you, but his mask was back up when you spoke up after watching Ulf fumble agitating the Prince further.

“Forgive him, my Prince, he is not used to the manners at court.” Your smooth voice carries an underlying annoyance for the man in front of you as well; having met before and watching him continue to disregard propriety has ticked you. He had also frequented the tavern-brothel you worked at and you weren’t one to hold back on finding pleasure when you needed it. Hence why you thought Ulf could spout your very colorful reputation and have Vermithor taken away from you.

“Or any manners at all, I’d say.” His hardened words were directed at Ulf, and with a few more less than savory words, Ulf had finally apologized, bending shakily on his knees before the prince before dismissing you with one look.

At least you thought you were.

“I wish to speak with you, girl.” Your steps halted in their place and you could see Ulf’s weary features. The prince waited until Ulf was out of earshot to address you, “Has my mother granted you permission to this room?” “I’m afraid not, my Prince—” “Then why are you here?” Taken aback by the attitude, you chuckle in disbelief— you recount all the things you’ve done and found nothing that could have possibly aggravated him; in fact, this would be the first time you found yourselves in a room together. You’re usually sharp with your world to people who do not respect you, but this was the Prince, so you forced yourself to take a deep breath, collecting your thoughts.

“I had stumbled upon this room looking for the Princess, your grace. My apologies for any offense I have caused.” You say through gritted teeth, struggling to maintain a facade of politeness, your annoyance only growing by the second. “Only one I cannot forgive.” His voice cold and firm, his ire sharpening his Valyrian features. “Your claiming of Vermithor.”

“Pardon me?”

“But now that you have,” he paused, “you’re merely a pawn to be used by mother to claim back her throne.” His eyes pierce through you in an effort to intimidate you, yet you only find yourself oddly captivated by them. Even though they were one of the reasons for his rumored bastardy. You tilting your head and observing him only seemed to spur his anger. He feels himself flush when your playful eyes roam his entire body up to his face, making him feel exposed and vulnerable despite his efforts to seem unaffected. Either you were toying with him or you were just as unruly as your fellow dragonseed. “Like you? Oh wait!” your playful gasp echoes in the empty room. “I forgot the Queen has you coddled inside this castle.”

It hits him like a slap in the face. “Why, you—”

“Will all do respect, my prince, if you wished for us to fight for your mother and your birthright, the least you could do is treat us with comradery.” And with that, you had curtsied with surprising grace, not waiting for his dismissal before you turned around and exited the room without haste. He was left standing stunned by the boldness of a lowborn girl. Though he was more surprised at the lack of offense he took from it—rather, he found himself intrigued.

And the need to find out more about you increased when attending the feast his mother held for the dragonseeds. There he saw you with proper attire sitting a chair away from Baela. Your hair rid of the ash and grime that had turned it gray. He had heard of you through Baela after your encounter in the council room, though he noticed that she did so reluctantly, a nervous tilt to her voice when she did so, probably painfully aware of his deep-seated insecurities.

If he had been paying attention instead of struggling to hide his clear indifference in having this meal, he would have noticed Baela’s shifty behavior, with her only acknowledging Addam. Instead, he kept his eyes forward yet unfocused, his jaw set, his knuckles turning white while gripping his silverware. He had done a good enough job of ignoring the dragonseeds until he caught wind of Ulf screeching at a servant to serve him more of his little birds. “A knight must hold himself with grace at the Queen’s table.” His mother had taken notice of the annoyance on not only his face but the rest of her guests and had tried to reprimand him. “Best make me a knight, then.” He smirks, making everybody in the room bristle in annoyance and a sharp glare directed at him by the princess, but before Jacaerys could retaliate, a scoff sounded across the room.

“Start acting like one, and perhaps she ought to.”

The scraping of silverware against platter echoes throughout the room; you have remained quiet the entire dinner, only talking when addressed. Walt wouldn’t believe his eyes if he could see you now. Walt had advised to keep you and your wanton activities to yourself to maintain a semblance of dignity. He knew all too well that your ‘big fat drunk mouth’, as he so eloquently put it, would be your undoing in such gatherings. However, as the night progresses and Ulf’s enthusiastic words are being thrown around, you find you don’t need ale to express your displeasure with one’s presence.

“Huh,” Ulf’s eyes sparkle with mischief; the knowingness in his eyes makes you straighten your spine—tension shows itself on your jaw, your knuckles turn white, bracing yourself for what he was to say. “If you had not claimed that dragon, I’d have thought you’d done what you do best and fucked your way into the castle, eh?” His elbow nudges yours playfully, chewing his food with a wide smile, it was clear he was jesting—an effort to rid of the tension in the room—yet all you felt was a pang of shame, forcing out a smile that resembled a grimace—humiliated in front of people you barely knew. You dared to look around the room, expecting to see horror that a whore was walking within these ancient halls, and yet, their gazes hadn’t left Ulf. Disbelief plastered on their faces at such language at a feast.

You worry for the Prince’s teeth at the tension that builds on his jaw. Noticing this, and to avoid something similar happening during the dinner at Kings Landing, Baela—the more level-headed of the two—intervened. ” ’Tis not wise to speak to a lady like that,” Her stiff smile accompanied her piercing eyes; it reminded you of a dragon taunting its prey. Daring it to make a move that would only lead to its demise. “Especially one who holds control over the Bronze Fury.”

Ulf only gulped in response, “Sense of humor would do you all good,” he said before taking a big swig from his goblet. Thank the gods, the conversation was cut off when Maester Gerardys had excused the Queen to inform her of something, and the table was left with an awkward silence, apart from Ulf, who continued to feast on his meal. After the Queen asked Addam to join her to Harrenhal the Prince stormed out the dinner hall. The Princess immediately ran after him, but not before turning to the rest of you and the servants, “You are all dismissed for the day.”

Maester Gerardys had informed you of studies you’re in need of learning to become a proper dragon lord. But Baela had taken it upon herself to teach you High Valyrian herself, she figured you of all people needed focused learning; with such a massive beast on your hands. She had met you on your way to Vermithor’s cave, carrying yourself with the same grace a dragon would, sure yet stealthy. She should’ve figured you’d be as stubborn as one too.

The library in Dragonstone was filled with quiet giggles for the first time since the war started, the rustling of parchment could be heard, yet the occupants have yet to pay attention to is contents; too busy recounting the events of your flight training, watching Ulf scream his lungs out when Vermithor playfully bit the air around Silverwing’s neck, while you thought it was just two dragon’s who were once owned by lovers getting reacquainted, Ulf seems to think otherwise. Every time she does try to keep a straight face and teach you, your giggle after you butchered the word would have her bursting out of laughter.

Eventually giving up for the day, she gives you leave to explore the library on your own, shooing you away when you attempted to help; ignoring the feeling of your calloused hands brushing against hers when you did so. She was stacking papers together to revisit on the morrow when she found her gaze wandering to your figure— exploring the vast room filled with knowledge you could have had in your life. Her eyes travel the strong line of your jaw, the faint flush on your cheek caused by laughter to your slightly chapped, plump lips you had constantly run your tongue over to rid of leftover wine on your lips. The flicker of candles littered around the room highlights your features, offering a contrast to the moonlight it had been bathed in.

“Do you think the Prince can find it in himself to forgive me, Princess?” While you appeared uncaring of the Prince’s words that day, you knew you should’ve thought twice than to jest around with a prince you had just met, and any attempt at apologizing you have made was met with his footsteps retreating from your own. So you turned your focus on the footsteps who actually seek you out— Princess Baela. Your question was left unanswered driving you to tear your gaze away from the parchment in front of you to look at her curiously— thinking she was pondering over answers to your question, yet you were faced with a flustered look on her face when she realized you caught her staring. “Hmm?”

Baela swiftly turns around with shaky hands to continue her cleaning, her heart pounding beneath her breast she feared you’d have heard it. Her voice unusually breathy and high pitched as she answered your question as though nothing happened. “The Prince is going through… um- he’s just holding the weight of- ahem,” She attempts to get rid of the shaking of her hand, and regain control of herself so she faces you, not expecting you to have moved closer. Her voice dies down to a breathless whisper as you stare at her expectantly, your raised eyebrow prompting her to continue.

“The Prince is having a hard time accepting help.” she says through gritted teeth, knowing she wouldn’t expose his insecurities, leaving him even more vulnerable than he already was. “Ah, I see.” Baela’s face burns hot when your gaze flickers to her lips before returning to her eyes. “Well, tell him if he wishes to hear me out, he’d find it easier to do so.” It’s not as though she hasn’t tried, but every time she talks about you, she finds herself flustered for some reason. “Trying to do everything on his own surely isn’t going to help this war.” She wished you hadn’t caught her admiring, to say, but the smirk threatening to split your face told her you did. You knew. And you were only feigning ignorance to save her from embarrassment.

“You’re dismissed for today.” Then came her the usual sternness of her voice, another attempt at trying to compose her unusually flustered self. Yet she was only met by your cheekiness once again, “Of course, Your Grace.” She releases a breath when you make your way out of the library, not realizing the closeness of your figure, nor how badly she had wanted to draw closer— She groaned, rubbing a hand down her face before smacking her head with the parchment in her hands. “I hope you don’t think that’s how you learn what’s on the page.”

Jacaerys’ footsteps grow louder beside her, his curiosity had him peeking into one of the books she was trying to organize. “How was it?” Came his question, his gaze lingering on your retreating figure, he had taken to ignoring all of the dragonseeds outside of training them— but he had considered Maester Gerardys’ request in teaching one of the dragonseeds High Valyrian personally, to ensure progress. Though he denied when he was informed of Baela teaching you, telling himself you would probably be the easiest to work with and not because of his curiosity in Ulf’s words.

Struggling to hide his envy of Baela being able to spend time with you at such close quarters without racing questions.

While It was not unusual for them to talk about their day, they recently found themselves hesitant in sharing—one drowned in how and why she was feeling such a way, as the other tried to control his growing curiosity; unknowingly, about the same person. “Oh, we didn’t make much progress,” his quizzical gaze had her thinking he’s aware of the change in her behavior, but she couldn’t crack now, not until she figured out why these thoughts appeared without warning. “We couldn’t keep ourselves together.” She wasn’t stupid, she knew of her Uncle’s rendezvous— her mother was never one to keep secrets, nor does her father know to hold back jests— She had thought to ask Rhaenyra about it, then withdrawn, considering she’s preoccupied with all her loses as a mother and niece and her duty as a Queen to take back her throne.

If Jacaerys noticed her avoidant eyes he had not mentioned it, and merely proceeded to invite her for their routine supper together. Staying with her to help put aside your messes before offering his elbow as they made their way out of the library. Their supper was quiet, not uncomfortable, but was more hushed than the ordinary, and had Baela paid any mind she would’ve noticed it wasn’t solely from her end.

As Baela taught you High Valyrian, Jacaerys was tasked to train the Dragonseeds with flying. Where he was dumbfounded that he was mistaken with his assumption of your agreeable nature—not that you weren’t, you just found provoking Ulf entertaining.

A similar incident of which happened today.

The dragons Silverwing and Vermithor were known to have been mounted by the Good Queen Alysanne and the King Jaehaerys, respectively, so it was no surprise that they would be more than close, foregoing the true nature of dragons to start behaving like house cats. Much to their riders displeasure, they were all but frolicking in the sun, dragging their riders as though they were ragdolls across the sky— until you held on tighter to your reins at the dragon’s soft glide, calling out to him. “Vermithos, urnēptre zirȳla skoros ao've jiōraton, Ilagon!” show him what you've got. Vermithor releases a sound of approval before he tucks his wings in, swooping down immediately at your command; Silverwing follows directly, jostling an oblivious Ulf to let out a most terrifying scream it could be heard across the bay, while you cackled merrily at his ashen face, feeling the saddle straps grip you harder and the weightlessness of your entire body, throwing your hands in the air freely at your descent to the ocean. Vermithor barrel rolls in the air—Silverwing not far behind— before their wings expand to catch air, water splashing in the air at the force of each flap of their wings soaking you to the bone.

“What were you thinking?!” You hear Ulf’s voice over the beat of your dragons’ wings, his previously pale skin now beet red. “Look’a that, It’s the heir lookin’ toward us.” Your head whipped toward the direction you saw him pointing toward and spotting the Prince’s figure, Vermax beside him. “Looks like someone’s gettin’ a scolding!” His laughter fades out when you guide Vermithor to land where the Prince was waiting.

As you had expected, the scowl on his face was unmistakable, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. again. You were unaware at how his gaze ran over every inch of you as you ready to unmount your beast, his eyes linger on your wet hair, strands clinging to your forehead. The harsh wind leaves a flush on your face. Alluring. Noticing details like he does Baela—He snaps out of his reverie when your breathless figure stands before him, giving him a clearer view of everything he was trying to avoid. Still, he tries not to let his thoughts get to him.

“Could you tell me what drove you to such reckless behavior?” His voice lacked its usual strain, and he knew he made the wrong move when you didn’t try to mask your surprise as it melts into one of mirth. Your smile has his skin crawling, drawing his eyes to the slight dimple of your cheek, to your lip bitten to control your triumph at the aggravation growing on his face. “I’m afraid not, My Prince.”

“You ought to take this war seriously before somebody gets hurt.” he sneered, drawing dangerously close to your figure.

“You really think I would put someone in danger, My Prince?” You notice Vermithor’s agitation growing behind you, his head arriving at your side baring his teeth at Vermax’s approach, the smaller dragon fierce despite the former’s size, until you place your hand just below his eye, “Lykirī.” With a displeased grunt he retracted, though still looming over your head. It was a wonder how so little time had granted you so strong a bond with Vermithor. “If all of us were as tense as you are, we’re all bound to make wrong decisions.” You fiddle with your glove before pulling it off with your teeth, the sneer on his face lessening at your words, yet the furrow of his brow remains as his eyes linger on your lips at the movement.

His dubious parentage was no secret to the smallfolk, the moment you got something of your worth was the moment he thought he lost something of his. That much was clear to you. You could tell by the look on his face during that dinner, when his mother had asked Addam to come with her that there was something more to his anger. Something akin to yours whenever you looked up at the sky and saw dragons you never thought you could ride. His silence was deafening, as though he finally listened to what you were saying instead of just looking at you and only seeing someone who stole something from him.

Granted, that wasn’t the only reason why he was agitated around you. Spending your time with Baela outside of your lesson granted him more of your presence than he’d liked—his gaze lingering on your figure more and more—thankfully, whenever he tore his gaze away from you, Baela was preoccupied with you to notice.

“An advice… if you will, my Prince.” he hummed questioningly, his breath caught in his throat when your hand hesitantly found its place on his shoulder, expecting him to pull away, yet he only found himself seeking more of your touch on his skin. “You ought to find a way to release that tension,” your tone was rid of seriousness in an attempt to jest, your face wrinkling with tease. “Without lessening the amount of training dummies for squires.” Watching the corner of his lips quirk up at his chuckle gave you a relief you didn’t know you needed, patting his shoulders twice before bowing making your way to mount your dragon.

“How do you suggest doing that?” His tone less cold than your earlier encounter had you smirking to yourself, “Your betrothed seemed stressed the last I saw her,” You turn and watch as heat spreads across his face at the implication of your next words, ”Why not take her mind off it?”

Figured it could take his mind off you as well.

Your earlier proximity lingers in his mind as he makes his way back into the castle, recalling the teasing glint in your eyes as it briefly gazes at his lips.

He shakes his head to get you off his mind and just as you said, Jacaerys found Baela in her chambers distressed, her hand rubbing her face while the other taps against the table. The idea you’ve planted in his head didn’t seem plausible, feeling as though he’d be taking advantage of her if he proceeded. He immediately knelt in front of her, taking her hands in his, “What? What’s wrong?” His worry increases when her chest expands as she breathes in. “Baela—” he was cut off when she smashed her lips against his, her hands gripping the back of his neck.

A surprised noise leaves the back of his throat at the impact, her desperation causing their teeth to clash as she attempts to deepen the kiss. “Baela…” her kisses trailing down his jaw leave him breathless, almost making him forget his concerns. He snapped out of his mind when one of her hands fiddled to unfasten his doublet, both of their chests heaving with great breaths, “What is this about?” “I just- I really need you.” She could tell he didn’t believe her, but she Jacaerys wasn’t going to force her if she had declined to talk about it. If only she could tell him, but she needed to get rid of these thoughts— of you.

“Please.” Her pleas were emphasized with a tug on his doublet, but Jacaerys pulled her hand away, kissing her knuckles as he contemplated his next move. “You don’t know what you want—” “I do! Please… I just want to focus on one thing— I- I’m thinking too much.” Her eyes brim with unshed tears, the sight of it had him longing to relieve her. Recalling her doing him the same favor a few weeks ago, an idea crosses his mind and he carefully pulled her hands away causing a breathless plea, he kisses her knuckles before placing a featherlight kiss on her lips, unhurried, as he slowly slips his hand up her legs, feeling the soft texture of her stockings. His lips trail a path down the column of her throat, mouth nibbling at her skin. She shakes her head when feels a second pair of lips grazing her ear, soft whispers causing her to sigh.

Before long, her skirts were gathered around her waist, his lips ghosting over the skin the stocking slowly reveals, her breathy sighs echo around the room, unashamed at whoever may hear them. She felt his lips trail closer to her core, yet all she could think of was you; Your tongue dancing with hers as Jacaerys bites at her neck,— her breath hitches in her throat when his lips made contact with her clit, her hand gripping his curls as the other covers her mouth as her back arches off the soft linens.

While inexperienced, Jacaerys does his best to bring her pleasure, wrapping her thighs around his head hoping to drown out the thoughts of you by burying himself in Baela’s pussy, but then his thoughts wander to how you would taste, how your calloused hands would feel gripping his hair while you moaned unabashedly under Baela’s touch—disregarding everyone and everything of consequence. He was lucky his mouth was preoccupied lest he would’ve cried out your name, echoing through Dragonstone’s ancient walls.

Baela tries to focus on his mouth on her, his tongue alternating between kitten licking her clit before it slips inside her entrance yet she’s imagining your lips instead of his, running her hands through your hair, your groans entering her ears— she recalls Ulf talking about your experience. Jacaerys’ finger prods at her entrance causing her thighs to shake, he hears her babble incoherently and just as his second finger pushes in, he hears your name escape her lips in a quiet whisper.

He stays there, motionless.

Before she could question his lack of movement, Baela realizes her mistake. Her blood runs cold, her skin feeling clammy against her clothes. She stares at the ceiling in silence, hearing only the beat of her heart in her ears and her panting breath—once derived from pleasure slowly growing into panic—despite his silence, Jacaerys pulls down her skirts to cover her. She dares to stare down at him, seeing only a blank look on his face before he abruptly stands up, wiping her essence around his mouth and spinning on his heels. The sound of his retreating footsteps sucks all the air out of her lungs eliciting a quiet whimper from her throat, thinking he was leaving. But she was surprised when he merely checked if the locks on her chamber’s doors were secured.

She took a shaky breath before she reached for him, helplessly pulling at his hands, trying to catch his eye. Guilt curls at her chest at his furrowed brow, biting the inside of her cheek. “Jace, listen—” At the sight of her panic, Jacaerys grips the sides of her face, and only when his thumbs rub beneath her eyes did she notice the wetness on her cheeks, “Let me explain—“ He immediately shushed her, the desperation in her eyes akin to the one his father had. He hated that he hadn’t noticed until now. “You don’t need to.” He had no idea how his words affected her, feeling her tense shoulders relax. But pulling him in an embrace and feeling his own made her straighten her posture once more.

“Jace?” Her voice unsure when she tried to pull away but was unsuccessful. “I’m sorry.” Her brows furrow in concern at his broken whisper, pulling back and noting his rosy nose and his eyes brimming with tears. “I hadn’t-” he hiccupped, running a hand down his face in worry. Baela’s face drops as she realizes what he was alluding to, “I hadn’t forced you, have—” “No. Absolutely not, Jace.”

“I love you, It’s just— I’ve been thinking of her the way I think about you.” He nodded at her persistence, the relief clouded on his face, though he still can’t relax until he has admitted his own dilemma. With the anxiousness so clear on his face, Baela couldn’t help but think the worst. Nothing could have prepared her for the words that came out of his mouth. She hadn’t expected the words to come out of his mouth.

“We both want her..”

His whisper was soft, unsure—lost to the wind if she hadn’t been paying attention.

While still unsure of Baela’s reaction, he felt his shoulders loosen, the weight of his guilt lessening now that he’s admitted his truth. His guilt-ridden eyes followed the motion of her hand covering her mouth in shock, but was surprised when he heard stifled laughter, surprised to see Baela biting her lip, shoulders shaking at each restrained chuckle. “By the gods, we are stupid.”

Watching her take the news with such humor had him feeling lighter than he had for a while and the longer he thought about it, the more he found the affair quite humorous, how despite their attempts to get you off their minds by pleasuring one another, they inevitably found their thoughts drifting back to you. He joined Baela with her quiet giggles, and the air in her chambers lighter than it had been in a while.

As they prepared for bed, a question had planted itself in Baela’s mind. The fire of the hearth glows across the room, providing warmth to the couple that lies upon the chaise before it. Baela’s soft cotton chemise rubs against his naked chest as she shifts on top of him. “What now?” Came Jacaerys’ soft voice, careful not to disturb their growing sleepiness. “I doubt she’ll forgive me for treating her the way I had…” “I think you’ll find that it's quite the opposite.” He grew curious at her sentence, sitting up until her head lies on his stomach, his fingers running through her curls at the agitated whine that escaped her throat. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” she grunted as she repositioned herself closer to him, feeling the beat of his chest quicken beneath her ear at her reply. “She had told me of her failed attempts at apologizing," a yawn escaped her before she continued, “and told me you don’t have to do everything by yourself.”

“Everything?” “Everything.”

She looked at him through her lashes and found him as red as Caraxes. It took a breath before he was faced with her knowing smirk. “You greedy boy~” “You were thinking of it too!” He groaned out through his covered face—his embarrassment unserious—laughing behind his hands as Baela’s jests ensues. “Desiring two women in bed, my, how scandalous of you!” The laughter fades when an idea crosses Baela’s mind as she traces shapes on his chest, “Aegon the Conqueror had two wives.”

“And you’re certain she’d want to be our wife?” Jacaerys had been mulling over every exchange you’ve had and was surprised at how clear Baela’s want for you, yet was still uncertain of how you felt. “Maybe.” While she felt sure of your feelings, she couldn’t get her hopes up until she was certain.

Their plan of uncovering your feelings had been failing for days. Jacaerys had made unusual approaches to you during your sword and flight training with him while Baela had invited you to break fast together, drink tea and now, your High Valyrian lesson, and have made what they thought were subtle comments about open relationships. All the while they had struggled to keep themselves together, you had been quietly smirking to yourself, wondering how long you could act oblivious of them before either of them breaks.

You weren’t a fool—you knew of their growing affections. And while you were hesitant to believe Jacaerys’, his constant gaze on both you and his betrothed’s figure was one you’ve seen before, though as opposed to man whores you’ve been with, it wasn’t just lust you were faced with. As hard as he tried to prevent his demeanor softening around you, he had always failed; a growing smile on his face he doesn’t seem to notice and laughter he attempts to hide at your jest. Offering a brief respite at the otherwise grievous atmosphere, a welcoming change from the frowns and scowls you so often receive.

Baela’s had been less subtle, you’ve thought she had avoided you for Jacaerys’ sake, though her flushed cheeks and averting eyes had later confirmed your suspicions once you began spending your time together.

Lately however, your chest had warmed at their pursuit of romancing you, while you were amused at their failed attempts to be subtle, you couldn’t help but find them endearing.

Jacaerys’ pounding heart mirrors his echoing footsteps as he makes his way to the library. He hears you and Baela before he sees you. He oft wonders if you were even learning anything in your lessons the way your laughter always seem to resonate across the room more than your High Valyrian. He listens as the laughter dies down and footsteps move across the room and takes it as his cue to enter. Baela turns to him when she catches a glimpse of his figure, reaching for his hand and placing a soft kiss on his cheek, a look of hesitance in her eyes as she glances at you then back at him.

You stay quiet, browsing through books and parchment scattered everywhere, feeling their stares on the back of your head. After exchanging looks with Baela, he clears his throat, “I must speak with you.”

You hummed, “What offense have I caused this time, My Prince.” your heart stutters inside your chest as you gaze at the pair, Baela’s plump lips trapped between her teeth as she not so subtly scans you from head to toe. “No, no…not this time.” Your eyes narrow curiously as his gaze flickers to Baela briefly before turning back to you, “Really? I figured you’d find a way to blame me for your desires.”

You felt as the room stills, even the usual flickering of the candles couldn’t be heard as their eyes widened, looking at you in shock. You see his Adam’s apple bob as he clenches his jaw, trying to get a hold on himself. “W-What?” Baela chuckles nervously under your gaze, snatching her hand away from Jacaerys’ when she feels it begin sweating, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m not blind, Your Graces.” You make your way toward them slowly, testing the waters because despite your certainty of their feelings, you wouldn’t want to cross the lines between royalty and subject. So you observe their movements as you approach them. While Baela’s eyes were unwavering on yours, Jacaerys’ kept flicking between you and her. Their practiced masks cracking each step you took until you were finally face to face with Baela. “How long have you known?” She could see from the corner of her eyes, Jacaerys’ eyes widening further at your answer. “A while.” She laughs, unbelieving of what she’d just heard, before she shakes her head and runs a hand down her face. Embarrassed she had thought she was being subtle.

You had wondered how much experience they both had before any of this, not only their longing looks had your curiosity peaked, but whispers of what was happening between their chambers had reached your ears. Now, you knew those words were nothing but gossip with the way they simultaneously quiver under your gaze.

“Did you have fun watching us make a fool of ourselves?” You and Baela roll your eyes at his query, defenses raised once more, understandably yet annoyingly if you had been at the receiving end of it for sennights. “Not to further hurt your pride, My Prince, but it was quite amusing.”

“Watching you both squirm with a need so sinful as wanting another— teetering on the edge of infidelity.” Your palm makes contact with Baela’s cheek, keeping her eyes on you as your other fingers slowly walk up Jacaerys’ arm before resting on his collarbone, feeling the beat of his chest beneath your palm. “So close…desperate to rid of me off your mind,” You feel Baela grip your wrist at your proximity, her mouth agape as she shamelessly chases yours. “and failing.”

Her breath hitches in her throat when your lips finally meet hers. Both your hands cup her jaw eliciting a whimper from her throat, completely forgetting Jacaerys’ presence as she leans further into you, excitement sinks in your lower tummy. He inhales deeply, thrill buzzing in his chest as you angled your head to the side, your tongue prod Baela’s lips, asking for entrance which she grants. His fingers twitch at his sides longing for something to grasp before he feels your hand wrap around the base of his throat, pulling him in, your soft lips against his plump ones.

Your teeth nip at his plump lips, pulling away before surging forward once more, you feel Baela’s lips against the column of your throat up to your jaw, your sigh muffled against Jacaerys’ lips. Her hand runs up and down your sides as she leaves love bruises on your skin while Jacaerys’ grip your jaw in need. You let yourself sink into their needy hands before an idea crosses your mind. You were in no way about to make it easy for Jacaerys to get pleasure. His attitude, while understandable, needed to end with more talking and less moaning around.

You pull away from him and feel your core throb when he attempts to reach you, his mouth agape and glazes eyes. You angled Baela’s jaw to give you access to the expanse of her throat before pushing him making him stumble onto a chair. He watches as you hoist Baela onto a table, her head thrown back as you lap on her throat. Noises he had never heard her make before escaping her throat when you bite into the sensitive skin just below her ear. Her noises go straight to both your groins. “What about…” Her question trails off, her gaze meeting Jacaerys’, your breath tickling her ear. “He’ll get his turn.”

The mystery of what you had whispered had Jacaerys biting his lip. He had not known this would be the result of today, yet he couldn’t complain at the sight in front of him. Baela’s disheveled appearance underneath your hands had a tent forming under his trousers. “He can’t have everything handed to him, can he?” Is all he heard before Baela surges forward, and he watched your hand trail up her legs, her stockings unveiled until you ripped them off exposing her legs to the cold air.

With her skirts bunched up around her hips, her core exposed to Jacaerys’ eyes. Your nimble fingers tease her inner thighs, tracing closer and closer to her pussy before pulling away and softly squeezing her thighs. Baela curses herself for how muddled her mind had become, embarrassed how so little of your touch already had her keening. Shivers running down her spine as you grip her thigh to keep her from closing it, “Keep looking at him, Princess.”

She was certain that her mind will think of your voice every time someone else addresses her as such from now on. She focuses her gaze on Jacaerys’ figure, wondering for a second if he was uncomfortable with the situation with his shifty behavior but whimpers when she spots the tent growing in his breeches. She releases a wanton moan when your finger enters her core, “Oh, Gods!” she squeezes her eyes shut at the intrusion but flies open as she remembers your command.

She grabs your forearm making you his as you continue your motions, listening to both her and Jacaerys behind you. Her grip causes crescent moons to appear on your skin. You feel your thighs dampening at the look on her face, your dress feeling clammy against your skin. Your finger drove into her, curling into spaces she didn’t know existed— granted, Jacaerys had never had his fingers in her before.

His hands couldn’t help but rub himself over his breeches, his eyes focused on how you were giving Baela so much pleasure in such little time. How your thumb works circles on her clit as your fingers drive into her entrance slowly but deeply. Each whimper and moan Baela releases sends a shiver of excitement up Jacaerys’ spine at the thought of being caught. Surprising himself at the whimper he released when his eyes trailed up to her face once more and caught both of your eyes; Baela, through barely open hooded eyes and you, looking at him with a slight smirk on your face.

“You’re free to relieve yourself, ñuha dārilaros.”

Those words had him immediately pulling down his breeches in embarrassing speed, though his hands weren’t as soft as Baela’s, they will do for the time being, and given the way you’re staring at him, it will soon be his turn. Baela’s moans grow louder and louder, his view of your fingers obscured by her clenched thighs. Her dress had been pulled down to reveal her breasts, your lips wrapped around one of her nipples, sucking and biting lightly before switching to the other, drawing goosebumps to appear on her skin and the way her hips kept jerking uncontrollably he knew she was reaching her peak.

And just as she was reaching it, you pulled your fingers away drawing a whine out of her throat, “No— please— I-I want—” choking on her spit at the sight of you taking your finger into your mouth before kneeling in front of her. She gazes at Jace in shock before her eyes roll to the back of her head when she feels your lips wrap around her pearl. Moaning when her fingers tug on your hair, sending vibrations to her core. Inserting your fingers into her once again, curling against that spongy spot inside her cunt.

“So fucking delicious.” You groaned against her.

Jace feels himself throb at the sight of Baela’s disheveled figure, her thighs wrapped around your head as she desperately finds purchase on your head, your noises muffled against her. Sweat dripped from her neck in between her heaving breasts and the sloppy rhythm his hand had built around his cock had grown tired, his hand flexing as he tried to rid of its strain, hissing when his sensitive cock hit his stomach.

Baela’s juices drip down your chin as you continue to lap at her bud, feeling it drip down your forearm. Her thighs muffle most of the noises across the room, but it wasn’t enough to cover Jacaerys’ needy whimpers. Baela’s hips began to grind against your face, her hold on your head firm, afraid you were to pull away again— and you do so, craving to watch both of them fall apart together.

She threw her head back, groaning in frustration at your methods, but was cut off, before she could say anything. “I want to watch you both come, Princess.” Jacaerys moves forward reaching for the strings of your dress, his lips tracing up and down your neck before his palms move up to grope your tits making you throw your head back with a pleased sigh. A second pair of hands start to grope your hips before one of them sneaks in between your damp thighs. Shy fingers swiping at your folds, unsure at what to do.

You feel Jacaerys slot himself between your ass, feeling him huffing and mumbling incoherent sentences against your neck as he humps you like a bitch in heat. “Fuck…” You hear him whimper in your ear as you take Baela’s fingers into your mouth before guiding it back to your folds until it slips inside you. Her finger motions were disordered—sloppy as she tried to copy your motions, a desire to bring you to the brink and pull away just as you had, but was unsuccessful when you pulled away from both of them.

They both groaned out in frustration, sick of you pulling away. But you know they’ve never felt the pleasure of finally reaching your peak. So you merely pushed Jace forward, hearing both of them hiss when their sensitive cores made contact—moaning when Baela felt your warm naked figure behind her, your hand cupping her breast, tweaking her nipples between your fingers before trailing down her stomach, wrapping your hand around Jace’s cock and whimpering when you slide his cock in between her folds. Your hand on his backside guiding his movements as their combined arousal continues to drip onto the table.

His pink tip sliding against her bud with each thrust, prompts Baela to pull Jacaerys in, teeth clashing at the impact. You feel yourself grow wetter at the sight of their dancing tongues. Your own mouth gnawing on Baela’s jaw trailing to her cheek before Baela’s mouth latched onto yours, using this opportunity, you guide Jacaerys’ length to her entrance, filling her up to the brim.

Jacaerys’ groan echoes across the room, his forehead pressing against Baela’s temple as he tries to catch his breath. His hands gripping Baela in an effort to ground himself. Feeling her walls clenching around his length as it tried to adjust, sending waves of pleasure all over his body, eager to start moving inside her. He made a mistake of opening his eyes and being met with the sight of Baela’s scrunched up face, her moans poorly muffled against your mouth at the intrusion.

“Seven hells…” He thought watching Baela alone was pleasurable, but having both of you in his arms had him desperate to divulge in all of his desires. He hears Baela whimper, twitching as your hand barely grazes her nipples before dipping between their bodies. Expertly circling Baela’s pearl with your fingers making her squeal against your mouth, gasping out at the amount of attention she’s receiving. “Keep going, please…” He watches as she grabs your forearm, mesmerized at your movements before he reaches behind her to reach your core, copying your movements, softly circling your pearl, unsure, before he hears your sigh.

Baela whines at the lack of movement, earning a chuckle from you. Your words have her hiding against Jace’s neck, feeling herself flush—sheepish under both of your gazes. “Wan’ you to take him. Want to see how pretty you are when you cum, Princess.” “You would’ve already seen us if you had just—” She was cut off with both her and Jace’s moan when you pulled him further into her. Her back arching when after a few thrusts he began to move on his own, gaining confidence, he continued his rutting with purpose. “Jacaerys!” As much as you loved hearing their pleasured noises you didn’t want either of them found out at such a position, so you shoved two fingers into her mouth, muffling her noises as she began to suck on them desperately, tasting herself on your fingers.

You feel his fingers fill you, making you moan against Baela’s skin. A string of saliva connecting you to her when you separated. Your mind grows foggy at his droopy eyes and plump lips, and just as you were imagining him ravaging you, he leans down to press his lips against yours, his hips driving further into Baela’s. His chest grazed her sensitive nipples with each thrust. Their hurried unrestrained gasps had goosebumps running up your arms, enjoying the sight of their desperation for release.

“Need— oh fuck, Baela— need more pl—” He feels the knot in his stomach tightening, hand gripping Baela’s sides as he frantically buried himself inside Baela, barely separating from her before driving in further. He feels her clench around him, his gaze trailing up to your hand pressing onto her lower stomach, “You’re taking him so well, your grace.” Your words have her keening, eyes barely opening to look at the bulge that appears with each thrust . “So close to filling your womb with his seed.” He didn’t want to think how it would feel to fill her— to feel her walls squeeze around him, unwilling to let him go until she’s certain his seed will take. He squeezes his eyes shut trying to rid of the thought of filling you with his seed. ”Such risky times to put a babe in her…” Your fingers unrelenting on her bud.

The thought of being found out is lost to the air as their combined noises grow louder, the sound of skin hitting skin and their juices drowning their concern. His pace grows sloppy, his lips on hers barely containing their wet gasps, “Don’t stop, Jace, don’t—” Baela’s legs wrap around his hips as it stutters to a stop, pressing him against her. Her back arching from your chest, screaming out your name unrestrained as her eyes roll to the back of her head, feeling Jacaerys fill her with his warm seed. Jacaerys reaches for you, his hand holding both yours and Baela’s as he gasps against your lips.

You thought you’ve felt pleasure before, but hearing their breathing grow slower and feeling them both tremble with desire against you for release had you reaching your peak untouched.

For a moment only erratic breaths could be heard. Before you move in front of Baela, kneeling in front of her swollen pussy, watching as their combined come leak from her pussy before you swallow it, tasting a slight metallic tang from the bleeding of first penetration. “Fuck the gods!” Her hands grip your hair unsure of whether to push you away or to pull you closer; the pleasure too good and overwhelming at once. Even Jacaerys found his softening cock hardening once more at the sight. He had read about men requiring time to continue with the act after releasing, but the sight of both of you had his cock twitching immediately.

In time, the movement of your tongue became too overwhelming for her sensitive pussy, slowly clawing at your head to peel you away. “Too much. I can’t—” You slowly pull away, softly kissing and nibbling at her sensitive thighs, feeling them twitch under your lips. Perching yourself on the table, you had planned to take your leave after you had redressed her but was stopped by the hands on your hips trailing up your sides. Jacaerys’ cock parts your lips, feeling himself coated by your arousal; he feels himself growing accustomed to the thrusting of his hips.

He figured he’d just continue with his motions until both of you reach your high—certain that once he succumbs himself within your walls he would not want to leave.

Yet he couldn’t resist when the tip of his cock fortuitously slipped inside your heat.

Gasping, his eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels himself enveloped by your warmth, your delicious moans in his ears as he keens over you. The stimulation of having just released made him feel every muscle clench as your pussy sucks him in further. You figured he wouldn’t last with the way his stomach had trembled, and how you felt him throbbing inside you while quick gasps leaving his lips as he fills you to the brim.

He takes in a quivering breath, before shakily pulling away and sinking back in. Barely separating from you before pushing back in. His cock hits that spongy spot deep inside you repeatedly while his lower stomach grinds against your bud with each thrust, Baela watches from beside you as your combined arousal pools onto the floor. She never thought the sight of Jacaerys taking another woman would please

While she wanted to join you, she was certain she was too sore to do so. So she merely watched as Jacaerys’ wet plum lips took your breast into his mouth, looking at you through his lashes as he ran his tongue over your peaked bud repeatedly while his fingers toyed with the other. His desperation adding to your pleasure. You couldn’t resist from slipping your thumb inside his mouth when he pulled away, his eyes fluttering at your finger pressing in his tongue.

Before long, the coil within your stomach snapped when you felt yourself being filled to the brim with his seed. Your legs wrapping around the small of his back, your pussy pulling him in further, while he moans around your thumb. Saliva separating you when he pulled away. “Couldn’t—fuck—didn’t want to leave.” He leans his forehead on yours, ragged breaths leaving his plump lips. “My pleasure, my prince…” Your whisper goes straight to his groin, still pumping you full of his seed. “You let everybody know you’ve fucked another woman.”

She watches as your finger dips into your entrance, gathering his come before taking your fingers into your mouth. “Oh gods— you’re fucking—you’re mad.” Baela’s giggle echo Jacaerys’ incredulous laughter, before she hisses at the soreness down her hips. The laughter halts as both you and Jacaerys look at her in concern. Immediately moving toward her, Jacaerys massages her hips as you grab a pitcher the servants had left and her soft linens from the floor. You used the soaked linens to clean off the combined wetness, causing whine from sensitiveness. “Shh, I know, Princess.” Jacaerys softly pecks her cheek before leaving her to be tended by you to gather their wears with shaky legs.

Once you were all dressed, you were surprised when Baela reached for your hand. Your gaze meets Jacaerys in query, but he only answers you with a small smile, his head nodding toward the library door. You trail behind them as they slowly make their way to their chambers. The hallway is unfamiliar, as your own resides below theirs. Only hushed words exchanged between them as you move about their chambers. Before long handmaidens have drawn them a bath and have left their chambers.

You move to untie the strings of her dress, Jacaerys’ soft gaze on you as he leans back against the tub. Your naked back lays on his chest, Baela’s on yours. Jacaerys’ watches Baela as she relaxes against you, her head resting on your shoulders. Content that the stress she’s endured for days is fading. Even more glad that his relationship with you might improve after this. “I am truly sorry for what I’ve said to you.” He whispered, lips soft on your shoulder, watching Baela as she dozed off on your shoulder. He yearned to sleep just like she had, his eyes heavy, but taking care of of both of you was his priority

“Are you merely apologizing now that you’ve had a taste of me?” His body grows hot in embarrassment. “You didn’t give me a chance to!” His chuckle shakes his entire body, water almost splashing out the tub. His demeanor lighter than the first time you met him. Softer than when they started their subtle courting. His face flushed with laughter rather than annoyance. Though he would never tell you that annoyance was more so him trying to restrain his yearning. Before Baela falls deeper into sleep, you move to leave the tub and dress her for bed.

Their exhaustion had them longing for their bed, barely able to put his trousers on and dressing you with his white tunic before he sinks into their bed. You were about to leave their chambers, feeling they’d be uncomfortable if you were to overstay your welcome. But you were stopped with a soft hand on your forearm.

“Stay?”

What should sound like a command from a Princess sounded more like a request from a lover.

Fighting her droopy eyes, Baela waits until you are settled in next to her. Laying her head on your chest once you’ve done so, her white curls tickling your neck while Jace curls his arms around her waist from behind. Their touch a reassurance of their need for you.

You needn’t worry about the dragons after all.

𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨: @cafekitsune for their mdni banner :> 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐚'𝐬: @earth4angels , @princessvelaryon , @vividxpages , @astrxq , @housetargaryenloyalist , @eldrith , @cregnstark , @divinesolas , @v3lary0ns , @benjinotes , @fleurbies , @writtenapoiogy , @a-lina , @vee-mage , @mattnott

[zozoleesi]

does miguel diaz give bf energy or wife energy more??? the people need to know

[zozoleesi]

i’m obsessed with baela targaryen

[zozoleesi]

first of all i love you. really. everything that you're writing is making my life so much better, so thank u <3 if that's okay for u, could you write something where reader is a single mom, she has a little girl and her daughter is very attached to billy? and it's the most sweetest thing ever cause billy loves her, calls her little princess (very sweet tooth 😭) one night, her daughter asks billy to read a storie for her to sleep and he does so and in the end, she says something like "i wish you were my dad" and it's just so cute and funny cause she gagged everyone, reader is like "babe!!!!" while billy is in shock but at the same time his heart is melting 🥺🥺 (sorry if this is too much, just write if u want!)

oh im. gonna cry and sob and piss everywhere this is the sweetest softest thing ive ever read yes oh my god

billy would be so so sweet with your daughter, especially if she was around 4-6 years old. at first you were worried that a man like him wouldn’t want anything to do with a single mother, especially one as young as you. but he never asked you to explain, and never judged you for it. all he ever did was treat you like a queen, and your daughter like a princess.

and your little girl is just enamored with him. she follows after him like a little duckling, so much so that billy starts to call her “ducky”. it makes her giggle every single time, always makes billy smile all warm and fond. they get on like a house on fire, your man and your baby girl. billy teaches her things like how to ride a horse, how to tie all kinds of knots, how to rope a little goat even. your daughter tells you one evening, her little face very serious, that she thinks “billy knows everything, mama. everything!” you want to let her believe it for as long as possible.

on this particular day, all 3 of you had spent the day together. billy had showed up bright and early to take you for a picnic out in a meadow behind your house, a daylong excursion that lasted until the sun slowly set. it was late spring, cicadas beginning to sing in the tall grass. once it got dark outside, billy pulled out a jar and showed your daughter how to catch fireflies. once they had about 10 of them, they sat on the blankets with their heads ducked together to observe them, giving each one a unique name.

“let’s call this one tommy,” she says, pointing at a bug near the bottom.

“perfect name, ducky. how’d you get so good at this?”

your little girl giggles, shrugging and letting billy name the next one. it makes your heart so happy to see a man with so much patience and love for your daughter.

when you finally return to the house, it’s time to get your kid ready for bed. tired and pliant from her long day outside catching bugs and weaving flower crowns (that of course billy taught her how to do), she goes down without much of a fight. she does ask billy to stay and tell her a bedtime story, though, and he’s never been one to deny that sweet little face whatever she wants.

you half-listen as billy spins some wild tale about a princess who slay dragons herself, one who doesn’t need a prince to come and rescue her. she’s strong and brave and guess what? she looks just like your little girl, same hair color and little lilac colored dress. his story makes her smile, even as her sleepy eyes begin to blink more slowly. when he finishes, he leans down to kiss her forehead softly and tuck her blanket around her small little body.

“i wish you were my daddy,” she murmurs sleepily, rubbing her eye with one small fist. you see billy freeze and slowly look to you, unsure what to say.

“oh, baby—“ you start, taking a step forward. billy gently cuts you off, which you welcome, not sure what to tell her.

“you know, ducky, sometimes i wish that too,” he whisper conspiratorially. her eyes light up curiously.

“really?” she asks, looking up at him.

“mhm,” he says with a nod. “but i think this little thing we have going here is even more special. you know why?”

she waits for an answer, eyes full of curiosity and wonder at the man sitting on the edge of her bed.

“because i didn’t help to give you life, life gave you and me to each other. and that’s pretty special, don’t you think?”

your little girl smiles, nodding her head. you swallow hard, your eyes feeling a little misty at the way he loves your baby and she loves him. it’s so pure, so unconditional the way they’ve attached themselves to each other.

billy smiles at her and brushes her hair away from her face, giving her chubby cheek a soft caress.

“sweet dreams, baby girl.”

“goodnight billy,” she says with a little yawn, snuggling down into her pillow. billy blows out the oil lamp beside her bed, following you out of her bedroom and closing the door softly.

“i’m sorry if i overstepped, i didn—“ he’s cut off by you grabbing his face and pulling him down into a dizzying kiss. you smile against his mouth when he doesn’t hesitate for even a second to kiss you back, his arms winding around your waist to pull you closer.

“thank you,” you whisper when you finally break away for air. “for loving both of us, for taking care of us.”

“sweetheart, you don’t have to thank me for that. i’ll always be here to take care of my two best girls,” he says with a grin, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. “and who knows? maybe one day soon you’ll let me put a ring on that pretty little finger and that little girl in there can call me whatever she wants.”

[zozoleesi]

So I was rereading Harry Potter, when I came across this and thought- what if instead of Cedric Diggory, Cassius Warrington had been chosen to compete in the Triwizard Tournament?

Imagine Dumbledore calling out the name of the Hogwarts champion and it isn’t a Gryffindor, or a Ravenclaw, or even a Hufflepuff, but it’s a Slytherin. A student from a House most people hate.

Imagine Cassius Warrington getting up, and three out of four Houses are booing at him and shouting things like “NO!” or, “We can’t have a Slytherin champion!” or demanding a retry. But he’s a Slytherin- he’s been dealing with this shit since he got sorted, so he keeps his head high and joins the other champions.

Imagine Harry trying to catch Warrington alone because he doesn’t really want to associate with Slytherins (plus Malfoy has this tendency of being around the guy ALL THE TIME since he got chosen), but at the same time he’s also fair enough not to want him to walk into the first task unprepared.

Imagine Warrington walking over to Harry a few months later, and Ron and Hermione both jump into a protective stance, wands out, but instead of attacking Harry he just tells him to stick the egg underwater. (Because Slytherins don’t forget those who helped them out).

Imagine Warrington and Harry helping each other out in the labyrinth.

Imagine Harry being devastated when Peter kills Warrington- because Voldemort doesn’t care what house they’re form, a spare is a spare.

Imagine the uproar that causes among the Slytherins, because some of their parents really are Death Eaters and they know what really happened.

Imagine Slytherins fighting in the Battle of Hogwarts and shouting “This is for Cassius!”

[zozoleesi]

miles (1610) & his barbie gf

warning(s) - fem!reader, reader is black

miles and the pretty girl that sits in next to him in english class

miles and the pretty girl from english, the one with the pretty pink acrylic nails that should be too long for her to write with but she makes it work anyway

miles and the pretty girl from english, the one who’s hair is almost always done, long knotless braids that cascade down her back or butterfly locs decorated with little gold and pink clips, the one who wears all those cute clips in her natural hair

miles and the pretty girl from english, the one who he’d never thought would give him a second glance, but turns to him and smiles so prettily, asking to partner up for a group project

miles and his pretty project partner, who shows up to his house and greets him with a grin and a hug, and she smells so good that he almost faints

miles and his pretty project partner who greets his mother with that pretty smile and asks him when they should start working

miles and his pretty project partner who’s been brainstorming since they’d been assigned the project and presents her ideas on a powerpoint, the pinkest and most impressive thing he’d ever seen

miles and his pretty project partner who enjoys his company so much she wants to talk to him more and eat lunch together on monday, and saves her number in his phone — “name💗”

miles and his pretty project partner who buys him a cookie during lunch on monday, just because

miles and his pretty project partner, who he spent the entire weekend thinking about, her face now decorating many pages in his sketchbook

miles and his pretty project partner, who he spends time with weeks after their project has been turned in

miles and his project parter turned friend/crush who he goes from feeling awkward to feeling the most himself around like her confidence is contagious

miles who slowly gains the confidence to be more bold, and uses the shoulder touch to which she giggles

miles and his friend-crush turned something else who he hangs out with all the time and always texts good morning and good night, and she greets him with hugs and kisses his cheek as a goodbye

miles and the pretty girl he likes who he asks out on the fire escape where they watch the sunset, and she looks so pretty during golden hour

miles and his barbie girlfriend who begs to do her skincare routine on him, and asks to braid his hair, and decides they should get matching jordans

miles and his barbie girlfriend who gets her nails done in his favorite colors, and asks his opinion on what hair styles she should get next

miles and his barbie girlfriend that mrs. morales isn’t too fond of at first, but appearances are nothing if not deceiving and this girl is her new daughter if nothing else

miles and his barbie girlfriend who keeps every drawing that he gives her and is always leaving brand new art supplies on his desk

miles and his barbie girlfriend who waits up for him on the nights that patrol runs too long and her imagination runs wild

miles and his barbie girlfriend who can and will tattle on him to mama morales, which keeps him in spanish class more often

miles and his barbie girlfriend who spends hours getting ready for their dates and always looks like a dream

miles and his barbie girlfriend who makes her mark on his life through the new splattering of pink in his wardrobe

miles and his barbie girlfriend who gets him teased by his father and lightly scolded by his mother when she leaves lipstick stains on his cheeks and jaw

just miles and his barbie girlfriend <3

[zozoleesi]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: earth 42 miles morales x spider gn reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: the prowler and the spider had an infamous rivalry—the prowler was always improving, and the spider refused to die.

ᴀɴᴏɴ: Earth42! Miles had a s/o who was bitten by a spider as well (maybe just an AU where 1116 Miles didn’t get bitten by the spider or there was another one) and they are both rivals under the masks but literally love eachother without them bc they don’t know each other’s identity?? And some angsty if they were in battle and he was beating them tf up and literally about to kill them and removes the mask and MORE ANGST AHH.

ʀᴇ𝐐: yes ~ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1.4k ~ alternate universe (within alternate universe) where the reader is bit instead of earth 1610 or earth 42 miles

part 2 (crackfic)

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: swearing, violence, blood, near death experience

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: we had so little of earth 42 miles so personally i dont like him yet but the request is good

☾⋆☆⋆☽

You had to hand it to him, he was good. He brought a new little gadget each time to take advantage of one of your weaknesses, which thankfully allowed you to discover them yourself and patch them up; but that didn't take away from the fact that he was inventing these little things so quick, or that he was noticing your mistakes.

The Prowler delights himself in your shocked little eye goggles when you punch him with your powers and it doesn't affect him, "D'ya like that? Can't use your little electricity powers on me anymore."

"Personally, I call it Venom, but I suppose," You pull back, regaining your bearings, cracking your knuckles, "it's too much to ask for a little respect."

"Getting tired?" Prowler closes the distance between you easily with his physics defying boots.

"Not at all." You press yourself onto the wall behind you, climbing on with your hands and feet to prepare for an attack. "Just caught me at the end of my shift, 's all."

"Exactly."

You ignore the little comment and aim up to shoot a web towards the ceiling, but then... click. Fuck, you were out of web fluid. He really was paying close attention to you.

You push yourself off the wall instead, diving towards him to topple him over. He dodges with his boots, leaving you to stumble onto the ground. He brings an empowered punch down while you're off your feet, but you roll over to the side, onto your back to dodge.

The ground beside you shatters as his punch lands, incredibly loud. Your ears ring as you hop back onto your feet.

"What's next? Lasers? Cat machine guns?"

"Cat machine guns?" The Prowler laughs, standing straight again. "What are you, nine?"

"Are you not nine? I thought we were the same age." You punch, but he blocks it with his sturdy gauntlets. You hop back before he can counter.

"Oh, you definitely did not." He lunges forward, aiming a punch to your head, but you dodge under and sweep his feet. He falls harshly onto his back, leaving him stunned for a second. You try to take advantage of it, but as you pull back your arm for a punch, your spider-sense warns you of something from behind.

You dodge to the side. As you regain your ground, your feet slip and you fall against the wall. For a moment, as the both of you focus up, you look around the room. What triggered your spider-sense? There was nothing or no one here, no one except for the Prowler.

Speaking of, he stands, clutching his head with one hand; and he's laughing.

"That was one of your tricks, wasn't it?"

Your powers allow you to regain your composure much faster and you take the opportunity to punch him.

The Prowler falters, taking a few steps back but keeping himself on his feet, "You punch like a baby."

"I don't want to kill you." You reason.

"Kill me?" He laughs, "With what, kindness?"

As he stabilizes himself, something else triggers your Spider-sense, and you dodge at nothing again. Another comes from behind and you stumble forward, right into his range. The Prowler punches, and it connects.

"What's up with that, anyway?" The punch knocks you back against the wall and you climb up desperately out of his reach. "You never kill. I always come back."

"It's my one rule."

"No one's asking you to keep it."

Another thing triggers your Spider-sense, then another, different directions, you can't keep up with them at the same time. Trapped in a corner, you let out a burst of Venom to try to decimate them before they can even reach you.

"What a pathetic little Spider."

The Prowler swings up, allowing his gauntlet to burst out with its usual mechanical power... and your Venom. The shock brings you to the ground, where you writhe in its cold tile with a searing pain and aftershocks of electricity. You're pretty sure you broke something–or pulled something, you really can't tell.

"Reusing my Venom?" You snicker with the last energy you have, "Running out of ideas, Prowler?"

"A blabbermouth 'till the end." You can hear the humor in his voice as he brings a punch down.

Crack!

His hands stays there, atop your head, his other one pins your shoulder to the ground. So this was it.

"I don't suppose," You wheeze out, "my rule applies to you?"

He ignores that comment, staring down at you. The mask tore in the area of one of your eyes.

His mask was always ruthless. It resembled a gas mask, preparing for the worse, but it also projected an image: his narrowed, emotionless eyes. To top it all off, he almost seemed to have the horns of a devil.

"You have nice eyes."

He was about to kill you and he was cracking jokes... he was about to kill you, and you never got to say goodbye to Miles.

"I wonder what you look like." He grabs a hold of your mask harshly with his gauntlet, "Did you ever wonder what I looked like?" and he pulls.

Now, without the mask in the way, you spit blood onto the tiled ground.

Suddenly, he seizes up, like he's frozen in place.

"Don't you think you're dragging this out?"

The Prowler lets go. He falls to his knees beside you, beginning to sob. He gathers you in his arms like you're glass, like he wasn't so hellbent on stopping your heartbeat just a few seconds ago.

Powerless, you simply rest in his arms. "This is a change, isn't it?"

"God, where do you find the strength?" He questions, chuckling a dry laugh. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"A lot of coffee, let's say."

"Shut up."

The mask on his face disassembles itself, and–oh.

"Miles?"

"I'm so fucking sorry." He buries his head into the crook of your weak neck. His sobs make you feel the need to protect him, to kiss the tears that stain his face away, but you can barely move.

You can still, however, heave a sigh of relief. "Look, I'm not dead yet." Though your mouth was lathered in disgusting coppery blood. "Surely my little genius can carry me to safety?"

"Yes." He stands, shell shocked, with you in your arms. You felt so light, so weak, and it was all because of him. "I'm–"

You bring a weak hand to cup his jaw, the highest you could bring it. You can feel the wet tears gathered there. "You can be sorry later."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

You examine yourself in the mirror of the Morales apartment–thank that little spider that you've got healing powers–when you hear the front door open, meaning Miles is back with some first aid shit. "Miles, how am I supposed to explain this to my aunt?!" You call.

Miles stumbles towards the bathroom, the rustle of the plastic bag accompanying his footsteps.

He didn't know how you were so quick to forgive all the injuries he'd given you, all the harm he'd caused. He didn't know how you weren't screaming at him, how you didn't want to kill him. He had done you wrong so many times and you weren't even angry.

But when he stops in the bathroom doorway and you turn to him, he sees the look in your eyes. It's the same as always, full of love for him, appreciation for him; like everything good in the world was embodied in him.

New scars were forming on your face, the same that littered his body, the telltale scars of being struck by lightning. "I guess we match now."

He stares down at the rolled up sleeves of his hoodie. He'd never shown them to you, the very scars you caused him unknowingly. They were like lightning up his arms and his legs and his torso, only missing on his face. He was a dangerous storm, and you had dared to love him.

"I love you." He drops the bag and brings you in his arms again.

Your knees give in, for you were still weak, but he had you. He was there to support you, to keep you up. "I love you too."

"I'm sorry." He says again.

"I know." You reply simply. "...you are what keeps me going, by the way. You're the reason I find strength even in the worst of times."

"Te amo, te amo, te amo..." Miles whispers over and over again. (I love you.)

He didn't need to question why you weren't angry with him, so long as you loved him.

[zozoleesi]

╭₊˚ ๑︰your boyfriend is odd, but i guess it adds to why you love him :)

:★: relationship : miles morales x g-neutral reader

:★: warnings : none! fluff

:★: a/n : quality > quantity but if i'm not writing i feel lazy ☹ RAGHHH hobbies r stressful (not rlly unless u make them stressful).. super quick post since i feel a little silly

Miles 'Clingy' Morales after he's been on patrol for a whole day and wants nothing but to be with you in your arms, maybe a little too much after he webs you and him to the bed cause he is DETERMINED to cuddle you for three hours straight.

Miles 'Loved by your Parents' Morales who's invited to the house almost every other day because your parents miss him. You're well aware he's busy with his double life as Spiderman, but still appreciates his efforts to visit your parents whenever he gets the chance.

Miles 'Golden Retriever Boyfriend' Morales who treats you like literal royalty every single day. He loves to do little acts of service for you in his free days, like buying you snacks or giving your head a massage. Just whatever to show his love for you. ♡

Miles 'Easily Jealous' Morales who tries to lowkey shoot his webs towards the feet of anyone who tries to approach you with vibes he doesn't approve of. He'll keep your attention away by pointing at shops you like that both of you are passing by, but he needs amazing aim to hopefully also hit their eyes.

Miles 'Smart Boyfriend' Morales who tutors you in the subjects you struggle in, chuckling at your own misery as you resist the urge to tear apart the paper of your homework. He's always so patient with you though, all your concerns and frustrations hes there to take care of.

Miles 'Reassurance' Morales who kisses all your physical insecurities and says something he loves about them. Who reminds you about how perfect you are no matter what, never resenting or wanting to push you away whenever you're upset or in a mood to just be alone.

Miles 'Gentle' Morales who never scolded you whenever you made a mistake or did something to upset him, and instead talked to you patiently for hours on end without a single tone of anger while he spoke. Who whenever he saw you injured, would immediately rush to his mother with you in his arms and have the most trusted nurse he knew to take care of you.

Miles 'Nervous' Morales (MnM lol) who sometimes forget hes quite literally dating you and gets shy or flustered like he's still in his crushing stage with you. Who sometimes can't believe he's dating someone as amazing as you, and can't help but still get flustered about everything relating to you.

Miles 'Listener' Morales who will always be there to listen to your vents, rambles and needs whenever you try and communicate them with him. He'll take mental notes or take LITERAL notes depending on how important they are to you. <3

Conclusion : Miles is very green flag 🙏

[zozoleesi]

Do I wanna know?

Earth 1610!Miles Morales! X Fem!Reader!

Warning: Stablished relationship, fluff, children

Summary: Miles and you are happily together when all of the sudden two teenagers come out of a portal claiming to be your children from another dimension.

Both teenagers sitting down on a rooftop “We have to help Peter and Gwen” you rested your head on his shoulders “Yea I know, I just wanted to spend some time with you…” he kisses your forehead and you smile.

“Argh! You two really don’t change!” You two turn around rapidly and you see two teenagers standing behind you. A girl and a boy. “Who are you two?! How do you guys know about this place?!” You got up and Miles puts you behind him. “Don’t worry, ma” the boy says while sitting down “Why you calling me mom, boy?!” Your son tried to reach you but you electrocuted him with your powers and the girl glitched which made them both pass out.

“Come on, Miles! Let’s take them inside!” You dragged the boy who was around your age “But let me take him!” You giggle noticing Miles’ jealousy.

Your children opened their eyes and saw their parents standing in front of them. They were tied in a punching bag. The girl struggled to get out “You think she’s glitching again?” You asked Miles “Listen! We don’t have time for this! We have to go to our home!” The girl says.

“First we have some questions. I want to know why that boy called me mom!” You point at him “I thought you would ask for our names” your daughter said “What are your names?” Miles asks “My name is Rio and he is Aaron…” Rio mentions “The reason why I called you mom is because you are! You are my ma!” He says.

“Miles, remember me the last time I was pregnant?” You said sarcastically “You are from another universe aren’t you?” You massaged your temple “This is so crazy! You two look at lot like me but also have (Y/N) lips and her eyes…” Miles took a close look at his kids with excitement.

“Watch the hands, not the mouth…” they said as they untied themselves as left out the window “Hey! Come back here! Obey your father!” Miles made his voice deeper as his children walked down the wall “Miles stop encouraging their delusion.” You said “I’m sorry, amor.” He apologized and you kissed his cheek as you both walked down as well.

“Wait! You guys have to help us! You guys help us destroy the collider and we help you go back to your dimension!” Miles talked as he carefully walked down “We need the collider to go back” Rio mentions “Well there are others like you! They also want to go home!” They stopped and turn around.

Peter took a good look at them “So these are your children…” he said “From what I see I was a good teacher in that universe because you two passed your teachings to your kids…” he has his hand on his chin while looking at them.

You all are sitting silently in a bus and you see Rio a bit nervous “You’ll go home, it’s okay, mama” you put your hand on her shoulder and she smiled “I have pictures of us, I miss them a lot and I look at pictures of them when I feel down” she mentions taking her phone out.

She shows you pictures of the four of you. You look a lot more mature and so does Miles. Everyone was very happy in those pictures and you start wondering if that’s how your life with your Miles is supposed to end.

“I want to see pictures too!” Miles takes the phone and sees through the pictures and he sees a funny picture of him, he was drooling in his couch on his other home with his kids laughing at him “Young lady, what is the meaning of this?” Miles pretends to be a father “These children now days” he shakes his head “They don’t respect their parents…” he laughs.

Your children are very skilled with their webs and overall abilities “Did I teach them that or…?” Miles looks at you and back again at his kids “It was not me…” you denied.

When it was time for them to go “I can’t let my children go…” you joked and they laugh “Don’t take more pictures of me like that, muchachita” Miles scolds his daughter.

You two are laying on the rooftop while watching the stars “I’ll go home and thank my parents for putting up to all my antics” he chuckles “I’m happy to know that in at least one of all those universe we get to have a good life…” you look at him, tip of the noses touching “Well now make them two…” he looks at you with utter adoration and kisses you.

[zozoleesi]

Can Only Hope

pairings: sully family x gender neutral!reader, slight spider socorro x gender neutral!sully!reader

genre: angst

word count: 3k+

warning(s): character death, mentions of death & gunshot wound

word bank: toruk makto — rider of last shadow, sa’nok — mother, sempul — father, tsmukan(s) — brother(s), tsmuke — sister, tsmuktu — sibling, ilu — aquatic animal residing in awa’atlu that it used for riding, ikran — winged animal used for flying & hunting, skxawng — idiot, & great mother / eywa — goddess deity that the na’vi believe in

note: this is my first post on here eeekkk! super excited to post this. i might start taking requests for avatar & atwow, but we’ll see! i’ve only been a reader on this app & haven’t had any motivation to write until now. i don’t know all of my way around this app regarding requests or writing formats, so if anyone has any advice to share, feel free to! it is greatly appreciated! <3 this fic is supposed to be gender neutral, so please let me know if any part of this fic does not reflect that. tuk is not mentioned in this fic & kiri is briefly mentioned. when i say you have four fingers, i mean you have a thumb & three fingers following that, just like neytiri. this is heavily inspired by @peacelovepandora ‘s account/blog. please go check them out! their work is amazing!

————

Your birth was viewed as a new beginning, of sorts. The Omatikaya had gone through so much loss, so much pain in the years that the Sky People had inhabited their planet and planned to make it their own, in hopes of replacing their dying Earth with the beautiful and brutal Pandora. Many Omatikaya had lost their lives as a result of the humans greediness, leaving many orphaned and physically scarred from the destruction they caused. It was hard to see a bright future with the humans constantly taking and taking from the People and the planet they resided on. But, it seemed to get a little bit brighter once Jake Sully, the great and mighty Toruk Makto, had lead the clans to victory against the Sky People in the Great Battle. The humans had no choice but to leave the planet, finally allowing a peaceful and bright future to form itself for the Omatikaya and the rest of the Na’vi living on Pandora. Many celebrations were held in thanks to Toruk Makto’s as well as in triumph for the humans finally leaving their home after thirty years. But another one was celebrated after it was announced that Neytiri te Tsahka Mo’at’ite was with child, marking a new era for those who were succeeded after the Great Battle.  You were the new stepping stone for the bright future of the Omatikaya. An omen of good fortune to come to all of Pandora.

Being the eldest child of Toruk Makto had been difficult, especially growing up. Much was expected of you, duties upon duties being put onto your shoulders from such an early age. You had to live up to such high expectations, something that came with being the first child of Jake Sully, a once Dreamwalker, and the clans most fiercest warrior, Neytiri. Constantly training to one day stand in front of your people and be recognized not just as Toruk Makto’s kid but as their leader as well. Although you had the typical features a regular Na’vi should have, four fingers on each hand and no traces of hair on your brow bones, children are still cruel. They constantly called you names that most definitely shouldn’t be repeated, pulled on your tail and hair, spit at you, told you that you’d never be good enough to be clan leader one day, and bothered you during your trainings. You’d cry to your Sa’nok about it once you came home from training, sniffling into her neck as you repeated the awful things kids your age said to you. And even with your parents butting in and demanding the children to stop, you couldn’t help but believe the words they uttered, plagued by the possibility of them being right. So, you pushed and pushed yourself to be the best you could be. Spending whatever free time you had from archery training in your Grandmother’s tent, eager to learn what every herb did and what technique she used when applying paste onto an injured Na’vi, watching her every move. And spending whatever free time you had from that practicing your tracking skills. You did a lot to prove yourself and tried your best to look unfazed by the little amount of sleep you received daily. But as the words that you and your family had to potentially leave your home and clan, everything that you knew, spilled from your Sempul’s mouth, the only thought that came to your mind was Was it all not enough?

Adjusting to your new life at Awa’atlu was extremely difficult. You were a foreigner in a foreign place and your title meant nothing to these people. Sure you earned a little respect and street cred from being the eldest child of the Toruk Makto, but it still wasn’t enough to earn you place amongst the Metkayina. So, once again, you trained and trained until your muscles felt utterly useless from the amount you swam and your lungs felt numb from continuous breath holding. But, as every day passed and the sun rose in signal for a new start, you slowly got the grasp of the way of the water. And you actually found yourself relaxing in the oceans water as you silently floated there once you were excused from your training, a small smile on your face. It was nice to finally relax for once, the feeling a bit foreign to you. Back home, you never got a chance to relax, always busy with pleasing your parents and everyone else in the clan, leaving you without any room to simply breathe. The whole thing kind of felt like a vacation almost. No longer having this weight on your shoulders to become the next clan leader and live up to your clans expectations of you. That is, until the humans find your family in the one place you were supposed to be safe.

You grew up with the stories of the Sky People and their selfishness, how quick they were to claim something that wasn’t theirs and how quick they were to fight over it, not caring for the blood that they spilled in the process. Growing up, you’d have nightmares about the humans coming back to Pandora and slaughtering the ones you loved right in front of you, not being able to move quick enough to stop them. Your Sempul often pulled you into his arms and rocked you in comfort, trying to whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you fell asleep in his hold. He’d then lay you back down in between himself and Neytiri, placing a soft kiss onto the crown of your head before quickly falling asleep as well. As you aged, they became few and far in between, dreaming of flying your beloved ikran or messing around with your youngest siblings. But once the humans returned to Pandora a year before leaving for Awa’atlu, the came back in full force. Your family were awaken many nights by your crying or screaming, rousing you from your sleep to comfort you, sobbing into their gentle hold as the dream kept repeating in your minds eye. You were terrified of having your family be taken away from you and, perhaps, that’s where your fear of disappointment came from and not the cruel children you had encountered early on in your life. You wanted to be a protector and protect the ones you loved, and protect you did.

The sting of the salt water is what drew your attention to the middle of your aching chest, looking down to witness the crimson red leak from your body and mix itself into the clear water you were submerged in. You hadn’t even realized you were shot in the process of jumping into safety, barely even processing the whizzing bullets flying passed you as you dived feet first into the water. All you were focused on was getting your little tsmukans, Neteyam and Lo’ak, to safety during their mission to rescue their human friend, Spider. Your personal safety was the last thing on your mind, demanding that your brothers and Spider go first jumping into the moon pool, shooting back at the fake Avatars. There weren’t many times where you saved your brothers asses from the things they managed to get themselves into, that job being put onto Neteyam by your parents. So, this being one of the only times that you saved both of their asses and were going to die as a result, put a gentle smile on your face. At least I would go out protecting those you cared about, you thought to yourself.

Your struggle was noticed by Neteyam, halting him in his celebrations with Lo’ak and Spider. “Are you alright, tsmuktu?” He asked, making his way towards you as he glided through the water. His eyes didn’t clock in on your hand over your chest yet, too busy watching you nearly drown as you struggled to keep your head above water. It was as if once you registered that you were shot, your body began to shut down at the realization. Your once strong legs forged by the oceans unpredictable current were now struggling to keep yourself up and lazily kicking, your left arm desperately trying to make up for your legs inability to work at the moment, making crazed movements underneath the water to stay upright. You lungs and chest also burned, not accepting any of the air you tried to suck in from above the waters surface. “I’ve been shot, skxawng,” you uttered, spitting out the water that managed to make its way into your agape mouth. Everything burned, even within the oceans cool water.

 “Fuck,” Neteyam whispered, grabbing the arm that wasn’t covering the open wound in your chest and wrapping it around his shoulder, trying not to openly sob at your cries of protest in pain. It was now Lo’ak’s turn to notice your current state. He tensed at your cry and found himself praying to the Great Mother that it wasn’t what he thought it was. Neteyam’s following statement only solidified his fear, “(Y/N)’s been shot! Help me get them up!”. Both the brothers and Spider helped you up onto the back of Lo’ak’s ilu, Neteyam settling himself behind you as Spider gripped onto the side of the ilu’s saddle. The four of you raced to the nearest piece of rock that was in direct eyesight, Lo’ak calling out to your Father once he notices him atop the rock they were aiming for. Fear had instilled itself into the younger Sully brothers, hoping that whatever was happening was not the last time you would take a breath.

“Watch their head, bro!” Lo’ak called out against the crashing waves, rocking his, and everyone’s else’s, body up against the jagged rock they were trying to hoist you up on to. You coughed up a mouthful of water in response, gasping for air once the wave that splashed you pulled back and granted you air. “What happened?” Jake hurriedly asks, pulling your body into his arms before gently setting you down onto the rough surface of the rock. He swiftly moves you to your side to assess if whether or not the bullet that pierced you also came out the other side. His heart dropped once he saw the exit wound, even more of your blood gushing out from it. Jake could only close his eyes as he gently shifted you back onto your back, dread making its way up his stomach and into his heart. Jake had witnessed a many of deaths during his time in the marines on Earth. And although he had gotten used to the feeling those deaths gave him, nothing would’ve ever prepared him for the feeling of losing one of his children before his time. Jake found himself thinking of his twin brother, Tommy, at this time, wondering if his death had been like yours, painful, or had been quick and peaceful. Jake quickly shook his head at the thoughts. This is no time to think of your late brother, Jake, he thought. Your child needs you.

 “Is-Are they going to be okay?” Spider asked, keeping his distance from Jake and the rest, guilt crawling up his chest and settling into his throat. He tried to gulp down the feeling, but that seemed to only make it worse. No one answers the human boy, too occupied with their dying loved one in front of them. You never made an effort in befriending the boy, your Mother influencing your thoughts on the boy as well as being too terrified to. If all Sky People are said to be what your Mother told you as a child, then you didn’t want to interact with one. But, as you lay dying on the small piece of rock, you couldn’t help but feel bad for not giving the kid a try. One conversation wouldn’t have hurted, right?

Neteyam had put both of his hands over the wound in your chest, as demanded by your Father, in order to slow the blood from further oozing out. “You’re gonna be okay, okay?” Neteyam comforted, although it seemed to be more directed to himself than you, “You have to be. You’re my big tsmuktu. You’re invincible.”. Neteyam’s words only caused more tears to leak out from your eyes. You hadn’t even known you were crying. Whether from the pain or the realization that you were, in fact, dying, you did not know. Neteyam always looked up to you growing up. Although you were only a year older, he still viewed you as his role model. You carried yourself with such grace and confidence, he often found himself trying to memorize your strides and how you pulled back a bow effortlessly, practicing what he could remember whenever he was alone, desperate to be just like his older sibling. As the both of you grew older and drifted apart, he still viewed you as someone to look up to and strive to be like. A much younger Neteyam also viewed you as invincible, untouchable by the bad things that lurked within the depths of the dark corners of Pandora. And now, as a teen, he still viewed you as invincible. Even as you lay bleeding out in front of him, he still thinks you are because you protected him and Lo’ak and Spider from the soldiers on the ship. You gave up your life for him, and for that, he doesn’t know what to do with it.

   “You still have to finish that bracelet for me, (Y/N),” Lo’ak sobbed out, grasping your free hand into his as he knelt in front of you, next to Neteyam. You only shakingly smiled at your brother, trying your best at squeezing his hand in response, but your fingers only gently fluttered at the attempt. You had begun to weave a bracelet for your youngest brother the night after he was abandoned at the Three Brothers, hoping to cheer him up from the hurtful words your Father spewed at him. You were never a good weaver so it took longer than expected, even with the help of your tsmuke, Kiri. Upon hearing of your struggle from the complaints of Kiri, Lo’ak felt warmed at the nice gesture you were doing. Growing up, Lo’ak always loved the things you made, even if they were a total disaster and halfway down. He still cherished them in his heart. He often found himself ‘accidentally’ breaking a bracelet he or someone else made and asking you to fix it for him or make him another one, excitedly waiting behind you as you did so, tail furiously wagging behind him in joy at his successful attempt at getting you to make him another bracelet of your creation. You pretended to not notice Lo’ak’s continuous purposeful breaking of handmade bracelets he received, happy to make him another one. It made you feel wanted and useful, especially if you had another encounter with one of the child bullies within your clan that day.

“D-Dad…” You weakly called out, turning your head and gaze towards your Father. Tears were running down his eyes as his gaze shifted back onto you, smiling down at you the best he could, putting on a front so you wouldn’t worry. “Yes, angel?” He asked, taking your right hand into his large ones, resting it against his cheek in hopes of comforting you. “I-I did it. Y-yeah? I pro-protected them, D-Daddy. I tried. R-re-really hard. I did. Got th-then t-to safety,” you responded, struggle evident in your voice as you stuttered over your words. That’s all you wanted to do back on that ship. Protect your brothers and get them to safety. You were glad to have achieved your goal, but at what cost? You were only sixteen years old and had so much ahead of you. Even before being forced to leave your home clan, you dreamt of becoming a fierce warrior and leader for your people and possibly having a family of your one day. But that all was ripped from you by a single bullet. Jake found himself cursing Eywa and all the other higher beings for taking his child’s life away far too soon to actually experience it. It wasn’t fair at all. But, nothing ever if fair is it? The Great Mother only gives and borrows energy, having the power to take it away all in one breath. And Jake is learning the hard way of what the Great Mother is truly capable of.

         “Yeah, yeah you did, angel. You protected your brothers and brought them back to me,” Jake answered, brushing some matted flyaways from your forehead, the dried up seawater making the hair cling to your skin, “I’m so proud of you.”. Upon hearing that statement, you felt contentment settle itself between your bones. You longed for those five words for years, especially if they came from your Father. It wasn’t very often that either of your parents expressed their feelings about your accomplishments to you. Sure they might’ve bragged to other clan members about how you claimed and bonded with your ikran in little than two minutes, setting a new record for young Omatikaya, and they might’ve put you on a golden pedestal to others, highlighting how nearly perfect you were at everything you did. But they never said those kinds of things to you up front. A few “Good job”’s here and there, but nothing too impactful as those five words that your Father just uttered.

         It seemed as if the constant battle your body was engaging with had came to an end, numbness spreading to your entire being as the only thing you could do was continue to breathe shallow breaths and look up at your Father. Your heart was tired of pumping blood throughout your body only to be pushed out of it. Your lungs could only take small breaths at a time, not having the energy to fully expand at your inhales. Your head began to feel fogging, all your senses dimming as you barely registered your Mothers ikran harshly landing in front of you. “What-” the question that Neytiri was going to asked for stuck in her throat as her eyes fell into the scene in front of her. Her eldest child, the light of her life, was limp and covered in blood, who she hoped wasn’t yours. “My baby,” she whispered, quickly falling onto her knees in front of you, Neteyam moving out of the way so your Mother could see you in your final moments. Flashes of her giving birth to you, feeding you from her breast for the first time, playing with you as a babe, teaching you how to walk and talk, and all your other firsts you experienced throughout your sixteen years of life on Pandora raced through her mind once she saw the bullet wound settled into the middle of your chest, draining all life from you. You had been her first child, her pride and joy, and to see you like this, pale and sticky with your own blood, made her want to trade places with you. In an alternative universe, she would’ve.

         “Oh, Great Mother, please. No!” She shrieked, grabbing onto both of your biceps, trying to hug you closer as more of your soul and life slipped away at each passing second. You wanted to comfort her, to tell her that it’ll all be alright, but you physically weren’t able to speak, too fatigued to open your mouth. So, you just laid there as your Mother brought you close to her chest, seemingly trying to share her life force with you, to spare you from the cold grasp of death. Jake could only watch as Neytiri pleaded for the Great Mother to spare you, heart strings tugging at her desperate wails. He knows that Eywa always has a plan, but does that really include taking his eldest child’s life away? He began to doubt the entity that breathed life into everything on Pandora, just like he did back on Earth with all the other ones. Would she really be that cruel?

         Lo’ak was the first to notice you completely go slack and relaxed, your eyes focused on the eclipsing sun in front of you. He didn’t want it to be true, calling out your name in hopes for your eyes to shift from the sun to him. But, it never came. Neytiri pulled you back from her chest, gently shaking you in hopes that you’d awake. But, you didn’t. Upon the realization that the eldest Sully child had finally passed and was reunited with Eywa, everyone broke. Neytiri let out multiple screams and wails, begging for you to come back. Jake had only closed his eyes once again, tears escaping from his waterline. Neteyam looked down at his blood stained hands, feeling like his palms were on fire. Even then, years after your death, Neteyam can still feel the weight of your blood on his hands and the sticky feeling it left behind, no matter how many times he scrubbed at them. Spider continued to stand in his spot, motionless. He couldn’t help but feel as if your death was his doing. Maybe if he didn’t get kidnapped by Quaritch, you’d still be alive. Maybe if he didn’t need Lo’ak’s help in rescuing him from the ship, you’d still be alive. Maybe if he was able to go into cryo and be shipped back to Earth, you’d still be alive. And Lo’ak felt his body go cold. He slumped back in the spot he was sitting in, bringing his hands up to his face as he sobbed into them. He felt as if he was at fault too. Maybe if he didn’t insist on going to get Spider, you’d be alive. Maybe if he didn’t get caught in that net, you’d still be alive. Maybe if he didn’t go to that stupid broken down lab and get held hostage by Quaritch, you’d still be here. But that’s all the Sully family can do. Think of what if’s and only pray that your soul makes a safe return into the afterlife and that you only stay blissfully ignorant to the fact that you died and are no longer living. They can only hope.

And, along with your death, the new peaceful beginning that was prophesied and hoped for at your birth, died as well.

[zozoleesi]

EVERY CORNER OF THIS HOUSE IS HAUNTED. (1)

Synopsis ! Jake had taken you as his own after Tsu'tey's passing, leaving no one to care for you. Things had been good before your relationship with him had blurred along growing of age. You and him fought all the time; argued each other's ear off and tonight was no different-- except words have been said, severing the already damaged bond. Content & warning Jake sully x Daughter!Reader, Sully kids x Sister!Reader Neytiri x Daughter!Reader. (wc; 3104)

Jake knew a saying; held onto it ever since he had resided amongst Na’vi– every person is born twice. While he believed that it meant that the second time is when you earn your place here in Pandora, Eywa had a clever way of broadening the idea. His very children were proof of it.

He thinks it’s the great mother’s way of compensation, perhaps a second chance for him to do better– to do his very best to keep them alive on behalf of those he lost. 

While Kiri was a special case enough, you too were an odd one. 

You are Tsu’tey's daughter. Turns out, he had someone in secret while he trained to become olo’eyktan– when he was supposed to take Neytiri for himself. It was taboo– absolutely wrong to become unfaithful to one’s mate. But following the carnage of the great war, when Tsu’tey had so selflessly sacrificed his life, only then did Tsi’ewa came forward; told everyone of their love and what could have been. She was a simple songstress along Ninat, but it was her round and bulging belly that caught everyone’s attention.

It caused an uproar and understandably so. After all, Neytiri had only announced her rebellion with Jake not long before, but when the people connected the dots themselves and both stories had become one, they understood that their hearts merely yearned for another and no one should have ever dictated otherwise. Arrangements had been made and condolences were exchanged— everyone can only look back and wish that things could have been different.

Jake was supposed to take you under his wing as a way of honoring him– he owed Tsu’tey his life and perhaps an apology as big as so. But after your mother had unfortunately died during your birth, he knew to himself that he had to take you in; not as a responsibility, but as his own blood and flesh. His first daughter.

You were the loudest baby, he recalled. That day, Jake had rocked your body back and forth in his arms frantically, while Mo’at and Neytiri did everything within their power to help Tsì'ewa. Your cries were ear-splitting, enough to wake the whole clan up. 

“Just what do I do with you,” He muttered under his breath, eyebrows knitted in frustration– just where do he hold you? Is he doing it right? Are you hurt? Why are you crying so loud?

“Jake, the baby!” Neytiri’s shout from inside had cut his train of loud thoughts, snapping back to your bawling. He wasn’t doing such a good job. 

“I’m trying, Neytiri– this thing won’t budge.”

Neytiri had emerged from the hut, stomping her way to Jake with a scowl. "That is not a thing, you skxawng!" she exclaimed before gently scooping you up from his arms, cooing softly to you– though it was more like mocking him instead. “Does Jake here make you cry?” She said, patting your thigh soothingly. “He’s not at all pleasant to look at, but you have to get used to it.” 

Almost in an instant, your cries had died down. You babbled along with her, like you were agreeing with her every word. He slowly pulled himself closer to Neytiri, eyes wide with curiosity as he watched your small hands playing with her long braids. “Heh, she has Tsu’tey’s eyes,” He whispers, unable to look away. 

The flap of the hut swinging open was the only thing that got their attention, momentarily away from yours as they looked at Mo’at with anticipation. With a single shake of her head, sorrow surged their hearts, eyes traveling back to your innocent ones. They mourned for you; an unknowing child should never have to carry such grief. They had to make a choice– A responsibility they weren’t expecting to have so early. 

Jake mindlessly trails his finger down your stomach, gently, like you were the most fragile thing. Your little hand wraps around it and it was like you had binded his scattered thoughts into one big understanding. 

Sully. You’re one of them now.

Jake releases a breathless chuckle as he gazes upon his lover and you with a newfound clarity, a perspective so bright it illuminated in his very eyes. Then came an idea– the desire of having children of their own. Perhaps that’s why Neteyam came after only two years. You were quite the ploy; the push they needed to start a family.

You were truly blessed– the genius of your age was undeniable, your remarkable talent soon earning you the admiration of all who had seen it. By the time you turned six, you had already mastered many of the abilities that a hunter would need– your skills with a bow were unrivaled by most of the children your age, let alone those who were much older than you. They'd marvel at your accuracy each time you took aim with an arrow. You could never miss. You had to make sure you didn’t. 

By the age of 12, you had already accompanied Jake in hunts. You had developed a knack for planning, coming up with routes and back-up plans that were often surprisingly effective. You have proved to be helpful plenty of times. You were quick, silent– full of poise. They often wondered if you were an old, seasoned soul trapped inside a little girl’s body. 

But as quickly as the spotlight had shone down on you, it left almost as soon as it had come.

(“What you did today was reckless, y/n.” Jake settles his bow on the table aggressively, emitting a sharp thud. You were just as frustrated, throwing your satchel down the floor of the hut. 

The mission had gone rather wildly, with things not going along the plan. There was another airship– one that no one was aware of. Your instincts jolted your body, immediately throwing an explosive towards it which had it blowing all over the place– its pieces crashing and causing a wildfire. 

Jake argued that there could’ve been a more safer way. One that didn’t have to risk more of our resources and supplies; one that didn’t have to injure the other warriors. Of course you knew to yourself that you did the right thing. You did what you had to do. 

 ‘You could’ve been hurt and got others killed! Just what were you thinking?” He continued to berate you. You jest that if this went on, there’d be steam visible above his already heated head. 

“I had to take a risk– not everything goes to plan and this is proof of it.” You answered back with a scowl, “If I hadn't, there would’ve been more casualties.” 

“That’s not a call for you to answer to! Jesus Christ,” Jake runs his palms down his face, grunting, before looking back at you– expression suddenly tired and soft. “Come on kid, where’s that sweetheart who always listened to what I said?” 

You had scoffed, a hurt forming on the pits of your stomach. “That sweetheart once had a place in plans before.” You said, eyes unwilling to look at him. It weighed in your heart heavily– why did people assume that you were the only one who changed? You didn’t understand. “Pretty sure the Jake before was a good listener too.” 

The wrinkle in between his eyebrows deepened in confusion, but he never was one for confrontation. With a single dismissive grunt, he turns his back against you. “I’m way past your attitude. You’re grounded. Go.”)

As you grew, the resemblance to your father became ever more apparent. Jake started noticing the many similarities between the two of you; the way you walked– how you sauntered confidently through a crowd. Your braids would move along your heavy steps (and perhaps, that’s where Neteyam got his mannerism of swaying his too.), shoulders wide and proud. You even had his signature snarl, something Tsu’tey was known for that unfortunately seemed to have been passed down to you too. 

However, it was more than how you brought yourself. You were strong-willed– stubborn. 

There was another thing about you too. You didn’t call Jake dad anymore. It hurt him– left a heavy feeling on his chest every time you regarded him so distant. It was unfair that you still called Neytiri mom, why did it have to change with him? He didn’t have the heart to address it. Couldn’t ask you what went wrong. 

Because he knows damn well why. 

Lo’ak was enough of a headache, but you were a different kind of royal pain in the ass, more like a personal problem. It was tiresome. Petty. There was not a day that you and Jake wouldn’t argue and bite each other’s ass off– and yet, there was never a day where you two would talk it out. The fights would blur itselves out and before they knew it, things would be back to normal, only for it to fall out again over something small. It was routine. The only thing normal for you both. 

He missed you– missed his baby. Just when did you grow to become so distant? When did he start to overlook you?

You’ll admit, you might have indulged in the folk’s gossip. They always had a story for everything and they have plenty about your father. Tsu’tey was a fit olo’eyktan. He had proved so in his training and determination. Of course it was a low punch in the gut when the throne had been passed to an outsider– a demon, most of all. It was unfair, he knew it wasn’t right. A washed up marine had taken something he had worked for like it was nothing. Like he was nothing. 

You pitied your father and you feared you’d be like him– like nothing. 

And history might just repeat itself. You weren’t clueless– wasn’t blind to the fact that Jake had trained your brother more. He adored him so much that the very moment he was in the right age to train, you were off to fend for yourself; trained all alone while Jake went over the routine with Neteyam like he did with you. You remembered waiting for him every afternoon because he promised that he’d make time– that time was yours and yours only. But as the light bled and neared eclipse and you were too cold to wait outside, you learned never to wait again. 

They would come home soon after– smiles on their faces and a handful of apologies for you. 

Soon enough, your suspicions proved you right as the people started to talk again; Neteyam– the golden child. He would make a good olo’eyktan. 

Perhaps that would explain the drift between you and Neteyam too. Could they blame you for it? You had lost their attention so early– while you still needed them. You weren’t their kid and you were reminded of it everyday. In times when you didn’t know if you had space in the family hammock while they sat together, telling stories under the starry sky. You pretended to have fallen asleep everytime; back against them as you listened. In times where the family was growing and growing, until the small table wasn’t big enough for everyone anymore– or in this case, for you. 

(“Come on, ma’ite, what are you doing so far from here?” Neytiri had called for you when she noticed how distant you were from everyone. You silently scooted beside her, wooden bowl in your lap. “Look, I prepared your favorite.” 

It wasn’t. You hated it. You hated the tangy taste of it so badly. But you had decided to eat what was left on the table after everyone had gotten their meals and there wasn’t usually enough for you. Neytiri thought nothing of that– didn’t think that you eating only scraps and dried fruit was because there wasn’t anything else for you to have. She simply thought that it was your favorite and had been making it for you ever since.

You didn’t have the heart to tell her. Not when she thought she had been doing well with preparing it. You kissed your teeth, smiling tightly as you lifted the food to your lips, eating silently. “Thank you, it’s good.” You muttered under your breath after.) 

But you were family; they said so themselves. When they tucked you in to sleep, when they patted your head. They were still present now, just not in the way you wanted– not in the way you longed for. It seemed like making them angry was the only way you could have their attention– particularly, your dad. You could never make Neytiri mad. She tries to understand you, she does. Explaining now just seems so.. Petty. So childish, you decided to push her away instead. 

What do you tell her? That you only let dad blow a fuse or two was because you missed him? Because you didn’t know what went wrong? 

So there goes your routine. 

“I just don’t understand why I can’t be olo’eykte.” You had brought up again, lips in a familiar snarl. “You tire me and for what? Kiri is already training to be Tsahik– just what would my place in this clan be?” 

“We are not having this conversation again, y/n. Not tonight.”

Jake had just returned from a particularly bad hunt; went home empty-handed and with a patience as thin as a strand of hair. He continued to sharpen his dagger, movements almost aggressive. Everyone immediately went out of his way, not wanting to be on the end of his temper– not you though. You could never get a hint, it seems.

“Yes, tonight! My ceremony is almost near, sir. I have been waiting.”

It wasn’t like he had a reason anyway. Jake couldn’t tell you because he had no reason as to why. Why couldn’t you be olo’eykte? You had all the skills to be one, even more so. But in the back of his mind, a thought so deep and petty that he couldn’t bear to say, tells him that the name he carried was something to gift his eldest son. Olo’eyktan was a privilege reserved for Neteyam. He never thought to have you so early– he always dreamed of having a son first. 

“Wait more.” 

“This is insane– sa’nok!” You had turned to Neytiri, eyes pleading. She quickly grasps your arm and tries to tug you back towards the exit, speaking in a soft but firm voice as she tries to soothe the tension.

“Ma’ite, why don’t we go out for a walk?” She whispers. To be frank, she was tired of this– never of you, no. But at the way things had been. Parents aren’t parents automatically just because they have had children of their own. It’s a skill they have yet to muster– to truly understand. She didn’t know where the line between you and her had blurry along the years. Didn’t know where this constant need of yours to be seen came from. 

You jerked your arm away from her, almost too harshly. It tugged on her heartstrings, not knowing what was going on with you. “I cannot wait anymore.” You said, taking two steps towards Jake with an unreadable anger– an anger he didn’t know when had stemmed from. 

“Is it because I’m not your daughter?” 

His eyes widened. A flash of vulnerability visible in his gaze, momentarily softening his glare. “You stop this right now, y/n.” He had stood up, tucking the dagger back to his loincloth. Jake’s larger frame towered over you, telling you to drop it– to leave the conversation. But you weren’t backing down. 

“I am your eldest–! You trained me earlier than Neteyam, I have been here long enough–”

“You aren’t ready!” He had shouted with the same fierceness, earning a dirty look from Neytiri.

“Why won’t you see me?” Your voice had softened, borderline begging– just a bit, but enough for his ears to flatten in response. He knew that beneath those few simple words lay many layers of underlying meaning; emotions that have yet to be spoken. 

But he turns his back against you dismissively anyway. “Neytiri, get her out of here.” 

Neytiri grabs you by the arms again, although a bit forceful now, but just enough for her to touch you– to have you in between her arms. She embraced you, like she was trying to keep the words from escalating. She feared one of you would say something out of line; something you both would regret. 

But on the brink of the tension– the severity of the situation, you had muttered. Your voice was muffled, but it was clear. The message was oh so crystal. “You took everything from my father.” 

Jake grunts, “Yeah? Well maybe your father wasn’t enough either.” 

“Jake!” Neytiri hisses and although Jake couldn’t see her, he knew very well he was getting quite the conversation with his mate too. 

It was a low blow. Unnecessary. A straight strike to the gut. It was a pain so bitter, you didn’t want it to linger any longer– you were nauseous. You wanted no more than to vomit everything that spiraled out of your stomach. 

“You want to lead so badly and you can’t even control your temper. No clan wants a hot-head for a leader.” But he kept going– relentless and cruel. “You ought to be someone else’s shadow.” 

“But I’m your daughter,” Your tone had softened, almost cracking as the lump in your throat grew. Tears blurred your vision, threatening to escape as Neytiri held you close. 

“And yet you never listen to me— because I’m not exactly your father, yeah?” With one last glance, he stepped out, passing his children who stayed just outside the door, listening. Jake opens his mouth, desperate to ease the tension– the discomfort written in their faces, but he quickly shuts it and continues to walks out. He had said enough for tonight. There was nothing saving his face from this. It was best if he left instead. 

“Oh, ma’ite.” Neytiri rocks her body along yours, drawing soothing circles on your back but the embarrassment settles in your chest– gnawing at your body. You catch a glance of the pitiful looks from your siblings as they try to enter the hut silently. 

How could you make a mess out of yourself in front of them? Why had you let this blown over?

You retracted slowly from your mother’s hold, wiping your tears before running the opposite way from where Jake had gone to. It was better if you left instead.

mauve here! finally done writing this after racking my head for weeks. wanted it to be relatable (??) as much as possible, idk why. there is just something therapeutic w writing about your past issues <3 but i hope this one's alright!!! really excited to finally post this heheh

lots of kisses!

[zozoleesi]

I ! Feels like we had matching wounds, but mine's still black and bruised (and yours is perfectly fine now.)

✎ Synopsis ! You've been thrusted to carry the burden of the eldest after his passing.

Content & warning: Jake sully x Daughter!Reader, Sully kids x Sister!Reader Neytiri x Daughter!Reader. Mentions of death and violence! Purely angst, at least for this chapter. Neteyam dies in the forest (the scene were quaritch first holds everyone hostage) I will not be following his storyline, because that's for you to take 🫵🫵🫵 buckle up.

Song: The Exit, Conan Gray.

You stay with the ikrans. 

Neteyam stepped forward without hesitation, stomach in knots with anxiety. “Father, I’m a warrior. I’m supposed to fight.” 

“I need you here,” he cut through his attempt to follow, nostrils flaring and jaw locked. There was no room for negotiation with the authority that laced his tone. “I need you to listen when I say you stay here.” he jabbed his finger on his chest, sealing him stiffly on the spot. The seconds seemed to hang in the air like lead weights, and any moment lost was an opportunity for danger to strike– he could only thin his lips and sharply nod.

“I mean it, Neteyam.” 

Such a simple ask of his father could have spared him from the rage of war, but how could you not expect the eldest to fight when his very siblings were in danger? Jake should have known better than to trust the empty ‘yes sir’ off his son’s lips– a warrior born out of his own teachings. You couldn’t blame him for following suit the second his parents were out of sight and into the wild.

How did it get to this? Jake’s thoughts would drift every painful step he took further. He knew it was in Lo’ak’s nature to be so reckless, hell, he took after his father himself– but before him, Kiri, or Tuk, it was just you and Neteyam. 

He remembered feeling ecstasy tremble down his whole body when he first cradled Neteyam. The moment the olo’eyktan had presented him to the clan, carrying him for everyone to see, he couldn’t see his son himself with the unshed tears blurring his vision. A part of him was relieved that he took after his mother, thinking it would have been a handful dealing with another Jake– but perhaps it was just a ploy; a first born’s excellence that they soon yearned for another.  

Then you came, another splitting image of Neytiri. The people often mistook you and Neteyam for twins and she’d reveled in the praises you both would get. You were her first daughter— right from the ear-splitting cries you let out the moment you were out of your mother’s womb to the battle cries you had worked on earlier in years, mimicked from Neytiri herself, she always swelled in pride. Unlike the eldest’s reserved composure, you were the opposite; curious and buoyant, yet still as shy and collected. 

It was different with Jake; he was new to this— absolutely clueless and terrified. After you came, the jolt wasn’t similar to Neteyam’s;  you were also his first babygirl. He wondered if he held you correctly, if the natural strictness he had with his son was fitting for you– oh Eywa, he definitely had to relearn weaving with Neytiri. The profound hesitation when it came to you was nerve-wracking, but the way your little hand would make its way around your father’s finger every time would ease the tight crease between his eyebrows, almost like you knew his very troubles. 

You were the kindest, most sweetest child– a daddy’s girl, much to Neytiri’s complaints. 

“Neteyam, scooch!” You yelled in a whisper, trying to desperately hide yourself in thick leaves and bushes. He couldn’t stifle his little giggles either, hearts pumping wildly in anticipation of your father. “Once he comes, remember to run left, alright?” 

He nodded sharply. His face coated in mud in the guise of war paint that you drew yourself. Yours were drawn lousily, the strokes shaky and a mess. 

Fee-fi-fo-fum, he chanted thickly, growing deeper and louder every stomp! The children could see him between the gaps— hands clawed and raised, stance menacing. You can run but you can’t hide! 

Both of you shrunk in suspense, eager to best your father in playtime. 

Then it was silent. Too silent. Your ears lifted curiously, eyes scanning the area only to be greeted by your father parting the leaves and surprising you both. You squealed a run and bolted to the right. Not even a second later, you heard the own panting of your twin beside you. You stared at him incredulously, legs faltering a bit, “Neteyam, I told you to go left!”

“This is left!” 

“No, I’m right—! This is right, you skxawng!” 

Amidst your silly bickering, Jake cunningly captured Neteyam, grabbing him from the armpits and hoisting him up high into the air. You could hear your brother’s laughter growing louder as Jake blew raspberries on his stomach, pretend-eating him with loud munches– his toothless bites making the younger’s giddiness double in size. You shrieked and sprinted faster, making a beeline to a different direction. This monster’s more unmerciful than you thought! With a determined look, you stopped behind a tree. I have to save Neteyam!

“One down and another to go!” You heard your father roar again, your brother giggling as he trailed along his heavy steps. 

You threw a rock as hard as you can, shifting Jake’s attention to the noise, and before he knew it, you came running towards him, thick long vine in your hands as you lousily tied it around your father’s ankles. Neteyam shouts in victory, trying to tighten the bind. Jake could only stifle a laugh at the scene, trying not to soil the satisfaction that was evident in your smug smile. He dropped to the floor, “Oh no! You got me!”

“Toruk Makto my ass!” You got on top of him, slapping his chest down with your little hands. Jake shouts a ‘hey’ at your language, which you only sheepishly giggled in return. Neteyam parrots from behind, still holding onto his legs. 

“We’re Toruk Makto now!” 

The memory would have easily put a smile on his face– ease his heart even a little bit, but the severity of the situation pulled him back and immediately, he was back in marine-mode, hands gripping onto the gun tightly. The moment they saw distress among the group with the green gas enveloping where his children were, they made a move.

The dreamwalkers felt a searing burn in their nostrils as the dense gas engulfed the area, the pain shooting up their visions. Your captor had a vice-like grip on you, dragging your body with him as you watched the others scramble in distress. He tugged painfully on your hair, forcing you to hiss and jab your nails into any exposed skin you could claw on. A headache throbbed at the back of your skull like an incessant drumbeat; you needed to think fast. With a sprained ankle, you knew you couldn’t get far.

Before you could even muster enough breath to scream for help, an arrow hit the avatar straight in the nape and dropped to the ground dead. You limped backwards, seeking an escape route, when suddenly someone grabbed your shoulders and pushed you against the rough tree bark. You body trembled, hitting whoever it was on their chest in an attempt to break free. But all efforts were futile as they held onto you tightly, shaking you vigorously.

“Sis, it’s me– you’re safe,” His hands traveled around your body to check for any serious wounds. The sound of his voice brought a sense of relief over you; your brother's caring demeanor enough to make you feel at ease and secure. Your face softens, “Are you hurt anywhere?” Neteyam anxiously asked, trying to get a hold of you.

“Ankle,” You exhaled, feeling the sharp pain shoot up again, “I sprained my ankle.” 

He looked around, making out a path to safety. When he manages to form a plan inside his mind, he carries you like a princess, arms securely around your waist and under your legs. Neteyam ran face-first into the battlefield, making sharp turns whenever necessary to evade any incoming bullets. With no bows or means of retaliation, you were both defenseless. You could only grab tighter as your heart hammered tightly on your throat.

“Na’vi!” Neteyam stops dead in his tracks, an expression akin to a deer caught in headlights. 

“Please, we just want to go home” Neteyam begged, his voice barely higher than a whisper. The light of the eclipse illuminated his features, and he instinctively pulled you closer to him as he took a few steps back. You could feel his exhaustion both physically and emotionally; a weariness that seemed so out of place on such a young soul. Everywhere around you was utter stillness- you couldn’t breathe, the tension in the air heavy and stifling.

“I’m sorry,” And before your brother could grab the dagger tucked to his loincloth, the avatar fired her gun towards you both as Neteyam thrashed in panic, throwing your beaten body to the side as he rolled off somewhere. The dreamwalker quickly towers over you and you could only close your eyes shut, waiting for cruel death. In a blink of an eye, her body drops dead and Lo’ak immediately rushes to your aid. 

Only then did you feel the searing pain in your leg, the sensation of a bullet wound as hot blood slowly oozed out. It was nauseating, the smell of iron and the redness of it. Your eyes widened in realization as you clung to your younger brother, “Neteyam! Did you find Neteyam?”

Lo'ak hurriedly hoisted you up and with sheer adrenaline, you limped to the other side, searching for your brother. Your eyes darted to his body, stiffly lying on the grass and breathing shallowly. You couldn't bear to look at the blood that stained his abdomen; it was a sight you wish to never see, ever.

“Oh, Neteyam,” You shakily put pressure on the bullet wound, only for him to violently grab both of your wrists and desperately claw at it. You could only scream aloud as the blood spilled out more and more as he writhed and struggled. “I know, I know, I know, I know– please, please just stay still.” Your words came out as a disgusting croaking slur, tears unable to keep themselves at bay. 

“__, I don’t want to die yet.” He cried out as you tried to keep your hold firm, “Father—father had asked me to stay, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t stay there and wait. I.. I don’t want to see his face when he realizes I didn’t listen-- that I failed him again. __ save me, please.”

He said hurriedly, breathing heavily every word. Save Neteyam, save Neteyam.

His jaw clenched violently, spit bubbling the corners of his mouth as he grabbed onto you tightly. The noises he let out had tugged on your every heart string, snapping it over and over. He struggled in your arms, pupils blown wide and teary. “Please great mother, not my brother, not like this– Lo’ak help me!” Your head sharply turned to his unmoving figure, eyes darted to you and Neteyam. You cradled him close, not minding the crimson cot coating your own body.

You were unable to think and you had your own wounds that needed to be tended to, but you couldn’t be bothered to put him down– to accept his already fleeting breath would soon be none. You kissed his temple, rocking his body. “I’m here, I’m here Neteyam.”

“I don’t want to die,” his eyes averted to the incoming figure behind you and he drew a harsher inhale. your father had pushed you aside to aid Neteyam, immediately checking for an exit wound. He was met with a loud cry, squirming uncontrollably from Jake’s sharp movements. When he saw blood gushing out the same on the back, his shoulders slumped in defeat as he let out a sob.

Jake put pressure on it nonetheless. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

“Sir, I’m sorry,” His words slurred together desperately, reducing to nothing but whimpers. Your lungs deny you of any more air as you watched him struggle— even in the brink of death, he had the need to apologize. Apologize for things that wasn’t even his fault, for things that was beyond his control. You kneeled just behind your father, gaze moving between Neteyam’s body and your bloodied palms. “I’m s-sorry, please don’t be mad.”

How he addressed Jake had only weakened his already beaten heart. “Save your breath, son, please.”

Everything seems to remain still for a minute, then came the shriek of your mother. You stayed there, almost lifeless yourself. You didn’t wanna see; didn’t wanna see how Neteyam’s body is limp under your father’s hold— how his eyes falls crestfallen and void of any emotion. Your siblings watch as Neytiri litters her first born with kisses, how she embraces every skin she can touch closer to her. “Not my son, eywa please.”

Eywa had granted him rest in its worst kind.

–

When he died, the same bullets went through you and it remained situated there, gnawing your insides and pounding it to mush, eating everything it can and rotting your entirety to an ugly void of a shell. It was getting heavier; his body soundly resting above the delicately woven cloth, carried by his mourning family. You could feel your feet sinking down the very soil you stepped on and you visibly faltered every move. 

His cold hand gripping tightly around your wrist, his blood drawn between the lines of your palms— your soul was left to relive that night in a loop, scream bellowing until nothing was let out but breathy weeps of what was left of you. 

It was bound to happen; death loomed and you dare played with it nonetheless. You should have known better than to let Lo'ak wander, let alone join him.

You stopped walking, changing everyone's solemn looks to a confused one. “Father, I can’t do it.” You whispered.

He remained tight-lipped, staring at you solidly that you could hardly decipher his expression. Jake was never one for emotions; it was as if he was programmed to tuck everything that made him feel under a gun's trigger– it was the soldier in him, finding it easier to be calm with a weapon nearby, but right now he was absolutely defenseless; stripped bare and vulnerable and he hated every moment of it; resented the fact that he failed protecting everyone, not just as clan leader, but as a father too. The latter weighed more than anything else. It dulled him to dysfunction and he could barely breathe– could barely recognize his daughter in front of him.

You took his stare differently, a cold-shoulder. Before Neytiri could approach your figure, you ran; away from the voices and guilt, away from him. Neteyam’s blood burns brightly on your very hands and you’ve swallowed down the blame, forever residing within you. 

You buried something so alive and you feared it would never let you rest.

☆ mauve here! i now introduce a new series of mine that i am so excited to work on. (i know i said i'd be inactive, but i couldn't help but finish this one draft) neteyam's dying scene is heavily inspired by the game, the last of us! this feels rushed, but i needed an opening to start the series so rest assured, there would be lengthier pieces after. criticisms are welcome. feel free to point out any mistakes. mauve out >:]

Tags: @aonungsmate ♡

© avatarkv, do not repost.

[zozoleesi]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ IN EVERY UNIVERSE .

— when traveling across multiple universes, miles learns the two of you are together in every single one .

e1610! miles morales x black! fem! reader .

miles pants as he’s in a universe that looks eerily similar to his own, but he knows it’s not his due to the sound of his own voice ringing from his bedroom. miles soundly walks through the house — going unnoticed due to his invisibility — and peeks through his bedroom door to see you and miles sitting on his bed, you placing stickers on his face.

“just stay still!” you giggled, placing a heart sticker on his tip of his nose. “what are we doing this for again?” miles asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could but not being able to hide the amusement in his voice. “gotta take pictures of you for our scrap book, plus i can’t let these stickers go to waste.” you tell him, snapping a picture on your phone and smiling when looking at the results. “see! isn’t it cute?” you questioned your miles, a love struck look in his brown eyes.

-

the next universe was by far his favorite. miles walked around looking at the pictures that hung on the walls or were placed carefully on a table or shelf, it was pictures of you and him — about 10 years older — with two little kids, one boy one girl. miles was taken out of his train of thought when he heard the giggles of a little girl. he waited to make sure no one else was in the way and he poked his head in through the crack in the door, watching you put the little girl’s afro into two puffs held together with pink ribbons.

“is daddy gonna like my hair?” the girl asks you, looking up at you with curious eyes. “well i dunno. let’s go find out, yeah?” miles instinctively moved out of the way and watched you and the little girl walk into the room where older miles was, watching your daughter jump on the bed and ask — “do you like my hair?” just for him to respond with picking her up and telling her how much he loves it.

-

the last universe miles was able to travel to was interesting. in this universe, it was just you and him inside an assumed shared apartment. miles tip-toes down the hall to hear you laughing at something he said.

“miles, just put the mask on!” you tell him, a goofy grin on your face. “i’m trying! the wand is too small.” miles complains, struggling to get the mask on his face. “here, lemme do it.” you say, taking the wand from his hand and applying it yourself, watching miles look down at you with love. “there.” you say, proud of your work. “now, let me do your nails!” you grin, watching miles’ eyes go wide.

“like paint them?” miles asks, following you with his eyes while you walk around the bathroom and gather the clippers and clear nail polish. “kinda. it’s a clear coat and it helps with breakage and stuff.” you tell him, coaxing him to sit on the toilet seat. “it won’t show?” miles asks, sadness in his voice. “well why are you sad about it?” you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “i just wanna show everyone what good of a nail artist my girlfriend is.” miles says, a dopey grin on your face. “we can do blue afterwards, i promise.” you say to him, smiling right back.

-

and this universe, miles was finally home. he knocks on your door, being let in by your mom.

“what brings you over here, miles?” your mom grinned, leaning against the door. “is it okay if i stay over? mom and dad are working late and i don’t wanna be alone.” miles says, twiddling his thumbs. “of course! rio and jeff know you’re here, right?” your mom asked, letting miles in. “of course. thank you.” miles says, practically racing up the stairs and into your room.

“miles!” you exclaimed, seeing him walk into your room. “hey, y/n!” he exclaimed back, catching you with a grin when you threw yourself into a hug. “where’ve you been?” you asked, checking his face to make sure he was okay. “had to stay over at school, just some project stuff.” miles shrugged. “oh, and i brought some face masks and a new notebook!” miles says, holding up the bag excitedly. “what’s the notebook for?” you ask, flipping thought the pages.

“i thought we could take up scrapbooking.” miles grins.

-

a/n this was based off of an idea i saw on my feed and i can’t find it 😞

TAGLIST ;— @looking4chanel @draculara-vonvamp @therealcees-blog @laylasbunbunny @lovelytayy @kisminarii @d7n3 @deadgirlkisses @darkknightpeanutbagel @thecoloredpages @xricly @princesslilisworld @mxspiderman2099 @marcelineormars @23victoria @ravereina @stevenknightmarc @laaailuh @diorsbrando @madz-rulez @planetspiderzz @chinieh @asensitivecookie

[zozoleesi]

SPIDER SIS !

→ READING: older sister!black!reader

→ GENRE + WARNINGS: fluff + the n word is said

→ A/N: not to be confused, 1610!miles will be in red and 42!miles/miles g will be in purple. also y/n will perceive to be around my age, so 17-19 years old at the time of this writing !

— being the eldest sibling/older sister is quite…chaotic. from the birth of your baby brothers to now, you’ve never known peace cause it’s always something with one of the two. miles g is arguing it’s you over the tv remote or miles is lost in his math homework

— cause of his smart mouth and pettiness, arguments with miles g would be a daily thing. from sun up to sun down this boy will find the most minuscule thing to argue with you about. one time he blamed you for missing his favorite show like it wasn’t 100% his fault….

— whenever you and miles g are arguing, miles would stay out of it and hang out with his parents. he never takes sides, since he loves you both equally, but he does try to hear both sides of the story. sometimes he’ll try to play peacemaker but it just….rarely works

— this nigga miles g is such a snitch omg. he wouldn’t snitch on miles often but you, he running to the nearest parent. majority of the time, you would have to bribe him to not saying nothing

— even through the chaos, it’s a loving essence with the two. through the fights and arguing, they both have deep love for their older sister, they wouldn’t trade you for the world. also, these two are veryyyy overprotective over you, sometimes too much

— anybody talk shit about any of you three is gonna get hit or flat out cussed out by you or miles g. especially miles g, he doesn’t play those games about his siblings and will buck at anybody, friend or foe, he don’t care

— if you have a crush on someone, please don’t tell either miles cause miles is gonna tell miles g and miles g will find their entire identity like he works for the CIA. don’t let it be a boy either cause miles g will watch that boy with daggers in his eyes

— the boys have put a lot of their trust in you! they feel like they can tell you anything and almost any secret, unless it’s too embarrassing

— when it’s not chaotic in the morales household, you guys are usually chillin in the living room either watching tv or doing your own thing. if anime is playing on the tv, all three of you subconsciously hop on the couch and watch it together

— watching anime together is one of the times you love hanging out with your brother the most. all three of you are huge anime nerds (the worst is miles g), so sitting around the couch to start a new anime or catch up on an old one is quite fun and peaceful. also, anime is a frequent conversation, a lot of debates happen and one too many spoilers from miles

— when you were younger, you used to help your mom wash the boys hair. if your dad was at work, which he more than likely was, your mom would ask to help wash and style one of the boys hair while she did the other. it was fun watching the toddler miles splashing water and throwing bath toys at each other

— miles g loves stealing your food and doesn’t give a single damn about it. if you doordash some food, don’t let miles g peep it or grab it for you cause he will steal something. you know what’s funny? he’ll steal your food and judge you for the food you bought like it was his money spent on it….

“why am I missing three tenders? there’s supposed to be eight”

“yeah n/n, that shit was dry as fuck. don’t order from that restaurant again”

“nigga- did YOU buy it?”

“I’m just sayin that I wouldn’t waste my money on no shit like that”

— all three of you have the most ridiculous nicknames for each other and it would be something that happened in y’all childhood. y’all even have code names if y’all talkin shit about each other

— the sibling group chat would go crazyyyy, but not all the time. usually it’s tiktoks, y’all talkin shit, or some fight video that happen in school. more than likely miles g was instigating the fight

— for miles + miles g 19th birthday, y’all got matching spider tattoos and miles g got a matching nose piercing with you !

— when the boys were first born, they had their ears pierced and y’all parents would try to get matching earrings for the three of you. but majority of the time it wouldn’t work cause miles g refused to wear small hoops or a pink earring, even if it was sorta boy-ish

— miles g was the first to learn cuss words in Spanish, so he would teach miles about it. miles was clueless and didn’t know about they were bad words until rio popped his hand and punished him about it. poor miles :(

— when it comes to relationships, the boys always run to you before running to your mom. they would describe the girl and ask if you know her. if not, you would find her info and become a wingman for your baby bros

⭑ another long set of hcs, sigh

⭑ was this me mostly projecting being the oldest/big sister ? maybe !

⭑ lemme know if y’all want a part 2 cause I have so much to say for big sister reader 🤭

𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐏 💗: Psalm 100:5

SPIDERMAN: ATSV MASTERLIST + MAIN MASTERLIST

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟥 𝗉𝗇𝗄𝗐𝖾𝖻. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

[zozoleesi]

request ! 😌

i saw something about Mrs. Morales having a picture of Miles’ girlfriend in her wallet and i think it’s literally the cutest thing ever 😭😭😭 could you write some headcannons about Mrs. Morales absolutely loving Miles’ girlfriend? for both E-1610 Miles and E-42 Miles? thank you !!!

— Mama Love

pairing ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ 42!miles morales x fem!reader, 1610!miles morales x fem!reader

summary ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ tía morales really enjoys having you as her son’s girlfriend.

warnings ✧˖ ° fluff, cursing, tía morales offering to whoop miles’s ass for you.

m. list, main m. list.

translations ✧࿓☾ mi niña preciosa: my precious little girl, si la vuelves a lastimar te juro que—: if you hurt her again i swear that i’ll—, no la vuelvas a dejar plantada!: don’t you ever stand her up again, niño no hagas que te golpé: boy don’t make me whoop you.

a/n . . ◟੭ hey, sweet anon! i think i know what fic you’re talking about, but i don’t remember the author. i love tía morales, hope you enjoy!

42!miles morales

this boy does not play with his girl and mom so you better believe that he was so happy that his mom loved you so much.

at first he was worried that his mom wouldn’t accept you or get along with you because in that case he would’ve no choice but to break up with you in order to not make his mom uncomfortable.

she matters too much to him for him to just go and date someone she doesn’t approve of.

but his worries vanished the moment he saw the two of you in the kitchen after he had come from some prowler business and heard his mom talking about how beautiful you were and how you and miles complemented each other.

that was the first time you two had met and since then you were inseparable.

you were the it mom and future daughter-in-law duo.

many times you and tía morales were talking about him and she found absolutely adorable the way your eyes lid up when talking about her son

“mi niña preciosa,” she would sigh. “you and miles are made for each other.”

other times you would talk about the world of fashion and gossip about the women and men in the neighborhood.

one time tía morales argued with a woman after she had cursed at you, telling her about how she was too grown to be acting like that.

you two laughed about it later and she let you know that if you ever needed help from ladies who acted like children to just call her.

one time miles even complained about the amount of time his mother spent with his girlfriend and he got called selfish.

never complained to either of you again.

his uncle aaron once got to hear this complain and laughed at him telling him he’s a simp

miles got you and his mom matching neckless and you two absolutely loved them.

now, neither of you takes it off.

then he got jealous of that so he got you and him matching bracelets.

you have a picture of him and his mom as your homescreen and he got jealous because it used to be only him.

tía morales has you as her homescreen and everytime someone sees it she would tell them that you were her son’s girlfriend who was her niña preciosa.

you would come over even when miles was not there just to spend time with her.

she taught you how to cook many dishes puertorriqueños.

and if you didn’t speak spanish already, she would teach you many words.

would feel guilty when she said a bad word around you and you would repeat it.

“no, mi niña. don’t say that!”

miles always got an earful from his mom whenever he did something to you that she found out of line, like one time he yelled at you.

“si la vuelves a lastimar te juro que—”

yeah, he never yelled at you after that.

or like ever did anything that would hurt you.

miles might act like he didn’t like how close you and his mom were but he secretly loved that.

you and tía morales couldn’t care less if he liked your closeness or not.

1610!miles morales

now this one does love his mom but wouldn’t break up with you if you two didn’t get along.

but since day one you and tía morales got along right away.

it was like you were destined to be her daughter-in-law, like she would often say.

miles absolutely loved that and would often join both of you in your conversations and cooking lessons.

one time you were learning how to make patacón and miles was absolutely freaking out because he felt like you would get burned.

tía morales took him out of the kitchen, telling him that if he kept being in there with all that bad energy then you will end up burning yourself.

she taught you a lot of different recipes from her culture and if you are boricua then you would just make them together, since people use different seasonings for everything.

tía morales and you would walk around the neighborhood, talking about some lady from there who cheated on her husband and how he publicly humiliated her right in front of everyone.

one time miles stood you up for the fifth time and since you didn’t know he was spiderman, you just felt neglected by him for no reason.

his mom made sure to make things clear for him.

“no la vuelvas a dejar plantada!” the look she gave him was enough for him not to make his patrols around the same time as your dates.

he had to apologize with flowers and chocolates that his mom helped pick out for you, she also told him to give you some money.

after that you felt better and forgave miles, but not before thanking tía morales for talking to him.

tía morales and you went out a lot.

like going shopping,

buying ice cream,

going to restaurants where miles tagged along.

miles never felt jealousy of you spending time with his mom but he felt a little mad when he found out that he was no longer your homescreen wallpaper.

he was, but his mom was in the picture too so he got pouty.

he complained right there in front of his mom, acting like a damn child.

“niño, no hagas que te golpé.” tía morales had said, giving him a blank stare.

yeah, never complained again.

but you had to make him your perfile picture in every socia media or he will ignore you.

you made his mom your whatsapp perfile pic though, since she made you download it. (if you had it before then you just put it because you wanted to show off your bfs mother).

she had you as her homescreen and would feel so proud whenever someone called the girl in the picture gorgeous and would immediately say that it was her son’s gf.

in the end you and tía morales are besties.

taglist: @anikaluv @janaeby @queerponcho

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ reblogs are really appreciated!

[zozoleesi]

PLATONIC FICS ARE SO UNDERRATED I LOVE THEM

Ayo can I request a platonic 1610 miles x older fem reader. Like she acts like an older sister to him and she visits him in his dimension. Bonus if his parents love her.

Dynamic Duo

1610 Miles x Platonic fem! reader

Synopsis! Miles never really cared for having another sibling until he met you

MASTERLIST

Genre: fluff, just fluff.

Warnings: mentions of dead sibling, foul language

Word count: .7k

Authors comment: THIS WAS THE CUTEST THING EVER IM CRYING. Two posts about Miles in one cause why not? ENJOY <3

Do not copy! All rights reserved to axeoverblade

•when you first met Miles you two clicked immediately

•He reminded you of your late little brother

•even though it made you sad at first to be around Miles cause of the nostalgia of it, you grew extremely fond of him over time and vise versa

• Bad habit of calling him youngin and he gets SO PISSED

• “what’s good youngin” “I’m not even that young shut the hell up”

• would get in trouble often with Miguel because you two “weren’t using your watches properly”

•apparently traveling dimensions to have ice cream together was against the rules

•still did it anyway

• he tells his mom about his friend “who left town” who was like his big sister and indirectly how much he admired you

•he would never ever tell a soul he looked up to you even though it was very obvious

•like bro legit mimics half the things you do unconsciously

•You notice it but don’t say anything

• you are so unconsciously over protective

• like you sometimes forget he’s a spiderman too

• he does the most stupidest things to impress you like a younger sibling does

• “Hey y/n look!” *cue Miles hanging upside down from a bridge doing stupid dangerous poses* “Miles! Get the hell down before you kill yourself” “But ’s cool right?” “…that’s besides the point”

•INSIDE JOKES!!!!

•or just those understanding looks you two give each other when you both see something stupid

• randomly pop up in his dimension to surprise him

• you two swing around the city together for the fun of it

•He rants to you constantly about his home life, finally feels safe enough to speak about everything that’s going on and how he feels to someone

•calls you when he has anxiety attacks. even though he would never outright say he’s having them, you know

• call it big sister senses

• always change the subject to something you know calms him and suddenly he’s laughing telling you about something that happened a couple of days ago when he was on duty

•Makes you happy he has an outlet he feels safe talking to because you know he can't do that with anyone else.

•HE STEALS ALL YOUR THINGS

• “yah so then-is that my jacket?” “…noooo?” “Miles I swear I'll kill you that’s like the fifth one this month”

• Always wants to be around you

•like lil bro is always just around trying to hang out with you or go on your missions when he can cause he thinks it’s cool to see you in action

• he even copies your moves for when he fights villains

• You finally met his parents

• at first they were very skeptical of you but after seeing how you two interact they grow very fond of you

•asks you to visit more often and cook for you whenever you do come

•you three talk about Miles whenever you think he’s not listening (he is) and how proud you are

•both you and his parents get on his ass about random stupid things he does

•legit tag team him all the time and there’s nothing he can do

•you visit so much you have a little bag of things in his room for when you come over

• you have your own personal relationship with his parents. They see you as one of their own and you see them like a second pair of parents

• they have their own nickname for you

• you are so close they add you to the family gc

• you and Miles bicker all the time about the stupidest things

• “shut up that’s why I’m the favorite kid” “you’re not even their kid!” “Your just proving my point further”

•you act like a real siblings. Like you would give your kidney for him but if he asks to borrow your charger? Hell nah

• overall he genuinely loves you and really appreciates you and you can say for the same for him

•will always be there for each other just like real siblings because in a way, you two are and always will be

[zozoleesi]

Ember in Your Hands

Jake Sully x Neytiri x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: welcome to book two! i hope you all enjoy!!

also- the ages of the kids are a little different, but neteyam is still the oldest, then kiri, lo’ak, and finally tuk. this won’t have any impact on the story tho!!

warnings: swearing, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter One- Sing Like an Angel

—-

The forest has always been your mother. The forest has always taken care of you, given you what you need. It holds dangers and it holds life, it holds your heart.

It’s hard not to feel small in the majesty of it all, it’s hard to remember what hides in the forest. You know it better then anyone, and still, you like to forget. Neytiri takes you far into the forest, helps you search for items to make beads with, to add to your songcords.

Yours is mostly empty- one for your birth, for meeting Neytiri, for leaving her, meeting her again, Grace’s death- and your death. And your rebirth.

As the bones of your old body fall away and turn to dust, as you go back to the forest- your new body springs with life.

You place a hand on your stomach, barely a bump, but it’s still comforting to do it anyways. Neytiri pulls her father’s- her bow- back and then adjusts. You smile, and she shifts her stance, so you can just barely see her stomach swollen with life.

She huffs, quietly, before she relaxes the arrow and the animal lets out a shriek. She turns to you with a soft smile, and you return it.

This is life- not your human body, not before. You had to die to live, and now you really do live. You really burn.

—-

“He likes you the best,” Jake says. He acts like he’s mad, like he feels betrayed that his oldest son prefers the comfort of your arms and your voice. But, you see the smile on his face.

“No,” you murmur, taking the small wriggly baby from him. He’s so tiny, is what you keep thinking. He’s so small and perfect and yours. How can you be responsible for shaping a life like this?

Neytiri’s voice fills your home, her songcord one you know by heart. She sings it almost every night, like she’s praying, especially after Neteyam’s birth. He was already presented to the clan, held up in the air like he was the brightest fire you have ever seen.

You can tell Neteyam wants to go to sleep, but he’s simply having trouble doing so. You chuckle, and Jake places a hand on the small of your back as you go to stand.

“Careful,” he cautions, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“Pregnancy is not a death sentence, Jake.”

“I know,” he huffs, standing so close to you that you can feel the heat radiating off of his skin. “I’m just being helpful,” he grins, placing a hand on your face. He walks past you, to your hammock, leaving you with a drowsy baby who’s starting to get fussy.

“Not helpful,” you muse, beginning to pace slowly around your home.

He throws himself onto the hammock with more force than necessary, but you can only smile. Not even Neteyam is disturbed by your mate’s usual antics.

“Sing loud,” he says. “You sing like an angel, sweetheart.” And you sing your songcord for your baby, until Neytiri comes back inside and watches as you place Neteyam in his crib.

You place your hand on your stomach, much bigger now, and feel Neytiri do the same. You are full of life and fire.

—-

The decision to raise Grace’s baby was an easy one. You spent almost all of your days, especially after Neteyam was born, sitting next to her body, watching her stomach grow like yours- day by day.

She was a few months farther than you, and it’s hurts to think that you could have shared this together. But you can’t, and you never will.

Kiri is the most beautiful baby you have ever seen. She looks so much like Grace, even as a baby, it sometimes hurts but you don’t let it.

Grace once told you that it never hurt to have you there, not when you were a piece of her sister.

Now, Kiri is a piece of Grace. But more than that- she is her own person. She is a bubbly baby, her eyes always open wide. She wraps her hand around Jake’s pinky finger every chance she gets, and smiles so wide you’re sure there must be some crushed up stars on her skin.

You present her to the clan, and she has her first communion with Eywa. Her eyes light up. You place a hand over your stomach and try and hold back your tears.

—-

Neteyam stares at the baby in your arms very intently. You wonder what he would say if he could talk. Would he ask where the baby came from? Why your stomach is flatter now?

You touch your fingertips to his cheek.

“This is your little brother, Neteyam. His name is Lo’ak.” You place a hand on your stomach. “He came from my tummy.”

He looks up at you with wide eyes, before he face breaks out into a soft smile.

“He is too young,” Neytiri says, bringing Neteyam closer to her.

“But he has your mind even now, no?”

“Hopefully, he doesn’t not have mine,” Jake chuckles, wrapping his arms around you, letting you lean back into his chest.

Neytiri told you that birth was hard, but seeing Lo’ak made it all worth it. You would go through that pain a million more times if it meant you could have your family safe like this.

Kiri let’s out a small cry from her blanketed spot on the floor.

Neytiri pretends to roll her eyes, but she’s smiling too hard for it to be true. Jake only laughs, and you burn harder.

—-

“You must be careful!” Neytiri shouts, watching as Lo’ak places a hand on Tuk’s head. You laugh and pull her a little closer, so his wandering hands aren’t tempted.

Neytiri grabs his arm, kissing the back of his hand.

“Be very careful, my son, very careful. Tuk is very tiny and very soft.”

Kiri runs a delicate finger over Tuk’s leg.

“She is soft!” she exclaims, and you laugh, feeling almost lightheaded from another birth. Tuk was not planned- three children were enough. And then you were sick, and a visit to the Tsahìk proved that you were full of life yet again.

“Yes,” you giggle. “She’s very soft, very tiny. One day, she will be able to play with you guys.

Lo’ak’s eyes light up, and you smile, lean forward to kiss his forehead. He scrunches his nose, mumbles that he’s too old, before leaning his head against your arm.

Kiri shuffles anxiously in Jake’s lap, before grabbing a piece of his hair leaning up to whisper in her ear. He hisses, but listens anyway.

“You’re tired, babygirl?” she nods, and then you watch her eyes look fearfully up at you.

“What’s wrong, Kiri?” you ask, shuffling Tuk in your arms.

“You- you can’t sing,” she frets, eyes traveling down to Tuk. “You always sing.”

“Yeah,” Lo’ak mumbles, and Neteyam let’s out a yawn, pawing at your leg. “You have to sing.”

Your heart still belongs to the forest, but you swear the piece of it that’s still left to you, that was waiting for something, is now fulfilled.

“Of course I will sing,” you soothe, and Jake places his hand on the back of your neck.

So, you sing, and your heart is filled with your children and your fire burns for your mates.

—-

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