Come for the smut, stay for the fluff.

Jacks | 30ish | she/her | AO3: Jacklyn_Flynn | Witch of the Smut Coven | Unabashedly filthy

[jacklyn-flynn]

It's been an embarrassingly long amount of time, but I've just published Chapter 19 of Space Trash. I really haven't abandoned it. I still very much want to finish it, but the writing muse has definitely left me high and dry. (And, not just where it pertains to Space Trash) If people still care about it, I'm going to work on finishing it, even if it's slowly. That's how anything gets done though, right? Little bit at a time.

[jacklyn-flynn]

Alistair stood close to her in the crowded room. “This is really weird,” he whispered, smiling down at her. His clean-shaven face and perfectly groomed hair were charming, but a bit out of place on him. The lopsided grin certainly wasn’t. Or the look of absolute adoration in his brown eyes. 

“It is, isn’t it?” Helena agreed. Her rosy lips were only tinted faintly for the occasion. They were a lovely color all their own and needed no embellishment. Full and enticing, sometimes to the point of distraction for him.

“Your majesty?” The tall, incredibly thin man beside them spoke up. “I said that you may-” 

“I heard,” Alistair said louder, though he didn’t take his eyes off of Helena. She was divine in her white and gold dress. A thin gold circlet lay over the crown of her hair. “I suppose we should…” he trailed off slowly. 

She pursed her lips as she smiled, trying not to laugh at him. Nodding quickly, Helena lifted her hand to his cheek. He bent his head and she met him halfway. She pressed her lips to his and after only a mere moment, he pulled away with a nervous chuckle. Letting out a soft huff of laughter, she rocked back onto her feet. Alistair glanced at the crowd that gathered, blushing at the scattered applause. 

Then, from the front row,  they heard a distinctly Antivan voice. “Pathetic! Kiss la tua regina like you mean it! Like she deserves! Shall I show you how?” Zevran even stood, feinting a few steps toward the dais with a determined look. 

Helena certainly was hoping for something more, but she knew how nervous Alistair was to kiss her in front of so many people. He’d been fretting about it for days. She would get what she wanted in private later anyway. 

However, Zevran’s ribbing seemed to spur him into action. His hand cupped the back of her neck, the other sliding down to the small of her back. He caught her off guard with the feverish kiss and almost immediately she forgot about their audience. Alistair’s hand slid over the swell of her backside and down to her thigh, suggesting that he had as well. 

He bent over her slightly, lifting her leg to hook over his hip which she did without question. One arm slid around his neck while the other kept the circlet on her head as he dipped her amid the whistles and cheers of the royal court and their family. 

Helena was quite literally breathless when he straightened and released her leg. “How was that?” he whispered against her lips. 

“Decidedly not awkward,” she whispered back. 

“You’re blushing, wife.” Alistair’s grin made her heart skip a beat. 

“So are you!” 

“May I now present to you, King Alistair Theirin and his wife, Queen Helena!” the officiant said amid the din that had only subsided slightly before swelling back into an approving cacophony at his announcement. 

Alistair looked over his shoulder. “And?” he prompted. 

“Highness, the queen should not have more titles than the king.” The officiant balked, paling slightly. 

“And!” Alistair prompted again. 

“Queen Helena, last of house Cousland, Warden-Commander of the Grey Wardens and Hero of Ferelden.” Though he was less than enthusiastic in his announcement, Alistair was satisfied nonetheless. 

Looking over at her, he took her hand and squeezed. “I love you, Hel.” 

Her smile back at him did more things to him than just make his heart skip a beat. No matter what had happened in the past, or what would happen in the future, this woman was his everything. If he only remembered one thing about today, it would be the look in her eyes when she answered; “I love you too."

[jacklyn-flynn]

Bull waxes and shines his horns once he's finished with his weapons and armor as part of his regular routine.

[jacklyn-flynn]

Definitely in the home stretch now! Chapter 20 is up, only seven left to go! (According to my outline, but when do those ever turn out the way we plan?)

[jacklyn-flynn]

Marcella woke suddenly to a piercing scream. She sat up in bed slowly and rubbed her eyes. Pushing back her blankets, she crawled out of bed and started toward the door, creeping on her tiptoes to avoid the cold floor. She paused for a moment then doubled back to the bed to grab her favorite stuffed animal. The brown, pear shaped bird had seen better days. It was missing a wing which had devastated her initially, but her mother had explained that it wouldn’t hurt him because, like chickens, he couldn’t fly anyway. 

Hugging the kiwi close to her chest, she opened the latch on her door. It sprung open with a snap and the door pushed in several inches. Opening it the rest of the way, she looked down at the large, dark blob that had been leaning against it. She lifted her leg, but decided she couldn’t step over the mabari without stepping on him. 

“Hades,” she murmured sleepily, “can you please move? You’re in my way.” 

The big dog lumbered to his feet and stretched. He turned away from her and then looked expectantly over his shoulder, ready to escort her wherever she decided to go. 

Walking across the landing, she quietly opened the door to her parents’ bedroom and ventured in. They were both sitting up in the bed, her mother with her legs tucked beneath her and her father cross-legged in front of her. His hand rested on her cheek, thumb moving over it soothingly. With their foreheads pressed together he was murmuring something to her softly, though Marcella couldn’t hear what he was saying. 

“Did you have a nightmare?” Marcella asked, making them both look at her in surprise. 

Brushing her cheeks, Sparrow nodded. “Yes, sweetling. I’m sorry I woke you.” 

“It’s okay. Do you want to sleep with me in my bed?” Marcella asked. 

Fenris chuckled at his daughter’s tone. It was the exact one that Sparrow used when asking the same question of Marcella after one of her bad dreams. Sparrow made a soft noise that might have been either stifled laughter or a sob. “I think your bed is too small for the both of us to sleep comfortably. How about you sleep with us instead?” 

“Okay!” Marcella said excitedly, running to the end of their bed. She threw the stuffed kiwi between her parents and then clambered onto the chest at the end of the bed. Hauling herself over the foot board and onto the mattress, she crawled toward them. Fenris moved a pillow to the middle of the bed so she could lay comfortably between them. “Do you want to talk about it? It might make you feel better,” she whispered. 

“No, but thank you.” Sparrow tucked her daughter’s hair behind her slightly pointed ear. 

“We talked through it. No need to worry, my little love. Go back to sleep.” Fenris pulled them both close, kissing the top of Marcella’s head.  

Marcella yawned, snuggling against them. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she murmured sleepily. 

“I’m okay,” Sparrow reassured her. “Now that you’re here, everything is perfect.”

[jacklyn-flynn]

All the best and all the love to you, my adorable friend - you are soft and strong and cool 🎁💐🍾💰🎂🌈

Thank you so much for the wonderful words! 🥰

[jacklyn-flynn]

Alistair is incredibly disappointed when his kids no longer want to play pretend with him.

[jacklyn-flynn]

Two in a row! Look at me go!

Shockingly, I'm actually a chapter ahead too! I'm taking a break from the draft of chapter 20 before the final polish and starting the outline and blurbs for chapter 21. This is from that chapter. It's particularly special because it features the OC that @charlatron created for Space Trash, El!

“Wait! Fine, fine. I’d rather you drink here than somewhere else,” El said quickly and he swung back to face her again with a smug look on his face. This time, the glass she put in front of him was filled halfway with a warm, amber liquid. “Ah, that’s better.” He brought it to his lips and took a long drink. “Ah, c’mon,” he grumbled, slamming it back down on the bar. “What’s this weak shit?”  El shrugged. “It’s apple juice.” He lifted it, as if to try and throw it in the trash as well, but she clicked her tongue. “Careful, master Tethras. I cherish my bar like I cherish my body. Defile either at your own risk." He grunted and set the glass down.

[jacklyn-flynn]

Bull gets a tattoo once a year; a little symbol (or kid's doodle) to mark how tall his child is when they stand next to him.

[jacklyn-flynn]

Wow, it's been a really long time since I've posted one of these, but I'm hoping doing so on the regular will keep me motivated to keep writing. I'm over half-way through my original timeline for Space Trash, so we're on the home stretch!

Here's a couple tiny blurbs from the main story of Space Trash and a tiny side project in the same AU.

“Who are you?” Jules asked with a confused frown. The recent events left her doubting he was even real. The man's eyebrows shot up. He transferred the massive hydrogen blade with its glowing edge to the opposite hand and offered the freed one to her. “King Alistair Theirin, monarch of the entire Fereldan system. We met a few hours ago, but it's fine. I've been told I'm a forgettable fellow.”

And from a side story:

He released her and started to roll his sleeves back down again. “You take care of the paint for me and I’ll go send Bull and the Chargers your way.” He started to walk away, then turned and walked backwards a few paces. “Oh, hey, is our bet still on?”  “Absolutely. I can’t believe you think you’re gonna make money off that,” Jules scoffed.  “I’m telling you,” Morgan said, shaking his head with a grin, “he’s gonna cry.”

[jacklyn-flynn]

Varric is complicit in 80% of Sera's shenanigans.

[jacklyn-flynn]

Varric and Isabela would often make slap bets. He later brought this over to his friends in the Inquisition, though he came to regret it after he lost one against Bull.

[jacklyn-flynn]

One of Dorian's favorite things is thunderstorms. He finds the lull of a hard rain and smell of petrichor relaxing. And thunder is such an incredible thing. Sound made from light, heard for miles and felt in the chest. The flashes that light up the world for a moment at a time just to remind you it's there behind the droning wall of water.

[jacklyn-flynn]

Varric has an insatiable need to praise his lover when he's inside them.

[jacklyn-flynn]

I finally got around to giving Varric the love and attention he deserves! I originally intended this to only be sweet and spicy, but the angst called to me and I couldn't resist. There will be a teaser under the cut, but you can read Inevitable in full on AO3.

TW: Forced sterilization that's eventually reversed.

After Hawke nearly dies, Varric realizes that being her best friend isn't good enough. She'd tried to tell him she loved him years ago and he brushed her off, convinced she could do better than him. He can only hope that he didn't ruin everything by not saying it then and that he won't ruin everything by saying it now. Anders is shocked to learn that he's missed his window of opportunity to confess his love to Hawke. He's upset, but Justice is furious.

“Pants,” she murmured, releasing his hair to push his jacket off his shoulders. 

She must have been more intoxicating than he’d anticipated, because he could only stare at her. “What about them?” 

“Are you gonna take them off or….” she trailed off expectantly. He shook his head to clear it and grunted in agreement. “You have done this before, haven’t you?” she teased, leaning back again. “Because if you haven’t we might want to stop for a quick discussion on how this all works.” 

“No, I think we’ve discussed plenty already, beautiful. The only words I wanna hear now is that delightful dirty talk you’re distressingly good at.” He shook his arm, trying to throw off the jacket while unlacing his pants at the same time. It was hard enough, but it became impossible when Max crossed her arms over her stomach and lifted the shift over her head. 

[jacklyn-flynn]

Bull and his kadan rarely fight and if they do, it's hard to stay mad at him because he's just so infuriatingly reasonable.

“Kadan,” Bull said, the tone of his voice placating as he ducked under the tent door to follow her. 

“Don’t you fucking 'Kadan' me,” Preia shot back.

She grunted when the belt slung around her hips to carry her daggers didn’t immediately come apart. When it did, she bunched it up with a frustrated growl and threw it against the wall of the tent. It hit with a thwap and landed on the woven thrush floor. 

“Are you going to stay mad at me all the way back to Skyhold?” he asked, sitting on the large cot against one of the tent walls. He rested his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. 

“Probably after that too!” she said pointedly. “You aren’t letting me do my job because we’re screwing around.” 

“I thought we established in Val Royeaux that we aren’t just screwing around any more?” His voice was calm and even. It was infuriating. 

“Look, Bull. I know you love me. I love you even if I don’t fucking like you right now. But that doesn’t mean you can keep me from doing what I need to do! I didn’t ask for it, but I’m the Inquisitor. I have shit I have to do! One of the things I have to do is secure that valley and the resources that are in it,” she ranted, attacking the fastenings of her leather armor. 

“And we will. But I’m not letting you go in there alone. Once we clear the rockslide from the cave that’s currently the only way in that we know of, we will do just that,” he assured her. 

“Do you know how long that will take? The resources that can be used elsewhere? I can do it now! I can fit through that hole!” She spun on him, hands gesturing wildly. 

“By yourself? I don’t think so, Preia,” he said firmly. “There could be an active rift in there. Not to mention the Frostback we saw flying around. She’s clearly claimed that valley as hers. She might even have offspring.”

“I’m not going to engage her!” Preia was nearly shouting. “We need to know if there’s another way into the valley!”

He stood, walked over to her and laid his hands on her shoulders. He squeezed gently, rolling his thumbs to ease her tense muscles. “Look, I know that you take a lot of this responsibility on yourself. But you don’t have to. We have enough people and resources to do this work while you do something more valuable with your time. I know you’re scared of failing. Of being everything that your parents say you are. But you aren’t. I promise.”

Her forearms moved between his and she pushed his hands off her shoulders. Her face scrunched up as she glared at him. “Don’t Ben Hassrath me, Bull,” she pleaded. “I’m not a mark or a job. I’m your...whatever we are now.” 

Unperturbed by her show of anger, he cupped her face with his hands instead. “First, I can’t turn it off. It’s part of who I am. Second, I’m not using it against you. You aren’t a job. What you are is the woman I love. And I’m telling you that as the woman I love I can’t let you go into a valley with demons and dragons without backup.” He reached out to take the dragon’s tooth that hung under the hollow of her throat.

“I don’t care how mad at me you are. I don’t care how long you stay mad at me. I don’t care if you stay mad at me for the rest of your life. You can’t ask me to watch you squeeze through that hole and hope for the best. The Inquisition will not fall to ruin if we don’t secure that valley. The Inquisition will fall if you do.”

“I want to stay mad at you,” she grumbled, looking down at her feet. 

“Then stay mad.” He released her face and let the tooth fall back against her chest. 

“That’s the problem. I can’t stay mad at you. You’re so damn reasonable.” Her voice was soft now, all the bluster burned out. “I can’t be mad at you for being something I’m not.” 

His fingers curled and tucked under her chin, making her look up at him. “Kadan, you aren’t unreasonable. You’re passionate. It’s one of the things I adore about you.”

She gave him a soft smile that slowly morphed into a sly one. “Since you aren't going to let me stay mad at you, is this the part where we kiss and make up?” 

His hands slid around her waist, further down to cup her ass and haul her up against him. “Absolutely.”

[jacklyn-flynn]

At Alistair's wedding, everyone in the palace eats the good stuff.

“Majesty, that’s simply too much food!” Alistair’s distressed head chef was trying desperately, for the third time, to explain how carefully he’d calculated the amount of food needed to feed everyone on the guest list. He waved the piece of parchment with each food item and serving size. Circled at the top, in large script, was the number of nobles on the guest list who were expected to attend his wedding. 

“Listen to what I’m telling you, it’s not enough food for everyone! I’m not just talking about the ones attending the wedding who have never had an empty stomach. I want to feed everyone,” he said, drawing out the last word with an emphasizing gesture. 

“And I assure you, your highness, that the staff meal will be made as it always is. We’re discussing the food for the wedding.” The poor man was starting to sweat. 

“I am too! Okay, let’s start over, Tomas.” Alistair took a deep, calming breath and gestured for the chef to do the same. Unsure, but wanting to keep his job, he took two more deep breaths with the king though he found them significantly less soothing.  

“The wedding food-the filet mignon, the roast duck, the shrimp, the salad, even the fancy Orlesian rolls-all of it will be served to everyone in the castle. The guards, the maids, the stable hands, even the poor bastards who empty the chamber pots. Everyone,” he emphasized again. The chef opened his mouth, but Alistair threw up his hand. “Uht! Nope. Listen to me. Everyone gets fresh, hot meals. Not scraps, not food that’s less seasoned or lower quality than anyone else’s. We’ll put tables and buffets in some of the meeting rooms and send carts with plates around to people who can’t leave their posts.” 

“Majesty, I don’t think you understand-” Tomas began again. 

“I do, but I don’t care. I understand exactly where they are. I understand what a hellish day it’s going to be for everyone. There’s so much work to do and so many people to look after and I’m going to look after the people looking after all those people. There are four kitchens in this Maker-damned place. I’ll hire you all the cooks, sauciers, garde manger and pastry chefs your need and then some. Everyone eats the same, Tomas. Got it?” 

Tomas’s shoulders slumped and he sighed. “Yes, your highness.” 

“I’m not kidding, Tomas. I’ll be taking my, and my future wife’s plate, from one of those carts or one of those staff rooms and you’ll never know which, when or where, so they had better be good enough to serve the king and queen. It may not be what’s proper, but it is what’s right. It’s my wedding day, dammit. I’ve been dreaming about this since I was a little girl. Make my dreams come true, Tomas.”