Welcome to your new home!
Yandere Asylum staff! Bllk boys x Yandere Patient! fem reader
Tw: Concept includes murder, mentions of abuse, torture, body horror, sexual harassment, sexual themes, drugging, unwanted surgery, eating disorders, surgeries done wrong, unwanted nudity
Part 1
Somewhere deep in the forest, there lay a hidden facility, a refuge for sick and mentally-ill people to rest and be treated. A sanctuary for the abandoned, a place for the neglected, demented, and disturbed; a magdalene asylum. But workers prefer to call it a psychiatric hospital. A term to make it sound more safe and convincing for patients to cave into.
And that was the one and only place for a person like you to stay in.
Day 1
Skinny and scarred fingers traced over the papers, your files in the hands of one of the best psychiatrists in Japan, Sae Itoshi, reading through your profile with a cigarette in hand. The acrid smell of burnt tobacco spread in the open area, Rin, who works as a nurse, glared at the burning stick.
“Can you stop smoking for once?” He clicked his tongue in annoyance, face covered with a surgical mask, not enjoying seeing his older brother shorten his lifetime from inhaling the cancer stick.
“Hm…we have another wild one coming in..” Sae ignored him, bringing the cig to his lips before taking one, long, drag out of it, tired from dealing with patients 24/7 and losing hours of sleep.
Their teal eyes watched a white van enter the tamed garden entrance with journalists chasing from behind, wanting updates on the patient, from you. Being brought here due to two murderous cases.
With the mental, emotional, and physical kinds of abuse you've gone through from your parents, you were blind to see through what love was, the lines were blurred out for you to understand, though something inside you snapped when you found out the love of your life was railing himself inside a woman a few years younger than you.
And you lost it, your vision was white, holding onto the letter opener with unmeasurable rage and denial inside. Thus stabbing them both repeatedly with your head on the loose.
Your body collapses on the ground as you're covered in blood, body rocking back and forth while mumbling deranged whispers of complete denial of the situation you just saw.
‘Why would he do that!? We're married! We’re married!’ You looked at the ring he gave you, oh the elegant golden lining of bonded souls didn't even fit your finger, he may have gotten the size wrong, yet, you still adored it.
You laughed maniacally, clutching the sides of your stomach as you laid on the floor, you were going insane, the hard work of devoting yourself, your entire being to a man you loved everyday, only to get ruined by him fucking a younger woman.
Yet, you were still in denial, because your husband wouldn't do that. That must've been a man that looked like him? Yes! Maybe you made a silly mistake!?...
It didn't take long for the police to come in after hearing screams from the 2nd floor, neighbors reporting their concerns as they found you bloodied and collapsed on the ground, the two dead bodies naked and full of stab marks, their blood soaking the mattress.
After that, you woke up hazy, you couldn't remember what happened back then, but you felt drained. You tried to move but you were strapped on a bed, two figures watching you as your vision blurred, not being able to see who they are as they let you inhale more gas, sleeping gas which made you pass out again. And now you’re put here.
“Watch your step ma'am.” A tall man with raven colored hair carefully tended to you, guiding you towards the entrance as journalists called out and took pictures, a record of the cunning murderer being put in a hospital to have her well-being updated for the world to see.
“Welcome to your new home!” A louder, more enthusiastic guard with blonde and pink hair approached your side without care. Your eyes reading into his badge. ‘Shidou’ didn't care if you had no handcuffs, no guns pointed behind your back, no nothing to keep you from moving freely despite what you're capable of doing, because ‘criminals are still humans’ said the owner of this place. But then again, they had the upper hand here, and you don't.
You looked around the environment, it was unexpected to have it well maintained, a regal pedestal fountain, thick pine trees perfectly lined up, a white colored rose garden surrounding the cemented 16 foot walls with barbed wires attached on top making it impossible for any escape as your brows clenched. The entrance building looked more of a mansion rather than a white brick with multiple floors.
“Fancy ain't it miss? You'll enjoy your stay here.” The guard, ‘Karasu’, from earlier, opened the door for you, this is where you start to get better, they say, your new life. That someone like you deserves high quality treatment after the gruesome murder.
You saw a woman at the reception desk, most likely older than you, dark blonde hair and light pink eyes, the bold red lipstick on her mouth highlighted her lips as she looked at you with animosity for a second. Just for a second before she plastered in a fake smile upon seeing Karasu and Shidou walking besides you.
“How long will I stay here?” You asked, immediately wanting out, you didn't belong here, you belonged at the two story apartment you and your husband had shared.
“250 days with a 3 hour therapy session everyday.”
You all turned your heads to see two men approach you, both had teal eyes, yet one had salmon-pink hair, while the other a dark shade of green. The smell of cigarettes entered your nostrils every time they walked closer. “..I’m Dr. Sae, me and my brother here Rin would watch over you alternatively with the other doctors for examination.”
“...”
He was blunt about his introduction, but you didn't say anything, your dull (e/c) eyes were just staring at them with a hint of threat, but they noticed that, “..We’ll have you put in your room, your first session would start with Dr. Yukimiya in about two hours.” Was all he said before leaving, Rin glared down towards you but was called out by his brother with Shidou following them.
—---
Your room was decent, fancy but decent, a soft single bed with washed linens and a window with indoor metal railings inside, the walls were cream colored with oakwood foundations covering the ceiling corners. And best of all, you had no roommates, this whole room was your space unlike the ones you've seen on the 2nd floor.
“Bathroom's in the left wing, 3rd door, oh and just a reminder, all patients ain't allowed to bathe themselves alone, nurses do that for them with a sched.” You turned to look at Karasu again, an expected reaction from him, but instead of an embarrassed face, you just simply looked mad.
“..Of course..” You say monotonously before putting in a forced smile, it caught him off guard as you looked at the medical gown folded neatly on your bed along with indoor slippers placed on the floor. “...Right, jus’ wait for the nurse to tend to ya.” And the door was closed shut, not even a second passed and you started to gaze around your bedroom, no shelves, no tables, no pictures, no nothing, just your bed and the window present.
Despite it being fancy looking, it was empty, you have no escape, especially when you're placed on the 5th floor of a different building, different from the one you've entered in. Your fingers twitched, you weren't scared, you were desperate, you needed to escape and get back to your husband.
Your head whipped towards the door, the sounds of muffled voices were exchanged, making you alert.
*Knock knock*
“Uhm excuse me miss (L/n)?” A head peeped inside as the door opened, a man with dark blue hair and a sprout dressed in blue scrubs came inside the room, holding a towel in hand. “Sorry to bother but it's time for you to have your bath..” He was meek, a kind smile rested on his adorable face as you looked at him.
“Harlan.”
“Pardon?” He answered back, face filled with half surprise and confusion, “(F/n) Harlan, I'm married to Victor Harlan.” You held your tongue out of anger, glaring at the young man as he sweated under your gaze.
“O-oh! Right! Mrs. Harlan, we need to get you ready for your therapy session alright?” Despite being a bit mean to him, he acted nice towards you, used to the hostility he encountered from different patients he took care of on a daily basis. So all he did was raise his arm for you to hold onto and follow him.
Though to his understanding, you didn't accept the gesture and just followed with Karasu watching behind.
—---
You stood against the cold tiles, feeling uncomfortable with the nurse who introduced himself as ‘Yoichi Isagi’ or Isagi if you would, wearing surgical gloves as you hugged yourself, back turned against him, only wearing your undergarments. “..It's ok ma'am, I know it's scary, but it's essential to have all patients be cleaned regularl-”
“I can wash myself.” You felt exposed, though you were used to people looking at you, but another man who isn't your husband touching you? You'd rather kill yourself than to let this happen. “I'm aware of that ma'am. But trust that I won't do anything but clean you, I'm sure you need it…” He was convincing you in the sweetest tone possible, with how the previous patients he took care of, they would melt into him and have his trust immediately…you were harder to crack and give in.
“I said I. Can. Do. It. Myself.”
You bit your tone harshly under your teeth towards him. Isagi didn't have all the time to go back and forth with you, so he let you be, let you ramble about your capabilities and your husband as he held the syringe behind his back.
“I'm sorry ma'am.” Before you could even ask why he said that, a sharp feeling pricked on your neck, and before you could even look to where that came from, Isagi covered your eyes and gently rested your head against his shoulder, breath shortened with your body suddenly getting heavier by the second.
“...I- whe..? I’m..”
“Shhh it's ok, this'll be done quickly.” He held on to you gently, your shoulders were lightly twitching in response as your body laid on to him, his other arm wrapped around you to balance yourself. Carefully sitting you down on the chair, your back resting against it as you felt light headed.
You couldn't think nor process what just happened, the feeling of warm water suddenly hit you as you felt hands softly massage on your scalp, but before you could lift an arm, you passed out as he continued his job.
—---
“‘nother rough one huh?” Karasu teased Isagi with a grin, watching him carry you bridal style out of the shower, all fresh and wrapped in a towel while he looked tired from cleaning you head to toe.
“Shut the fuck up..” The scrubs he wore were wet despite wearing a plastic cover up, Karasu noticed that Isagi always comes out the shower dry even after putting some patients to sleep, it's odd to see that his scrubs were wet too.
“Damn did she lose her shit in there?” He asked, pushing himself off the wall as he followed suit, going back to your room as other nurses and patients did their regular things in other spaces.
“No…the stupid cover up had a few holes in it.” Except that it was true, it did have holes, yet he could've changed to a new one, he always hated getting wet while doing his job. But he can't let you be alone for a millisecond, you looked pitiful to look at.
He didn't want you all vulnerable and exposed even if each patient had nurses tended to them. Even if he knew how guarded this place is, he could easily change, but he chose not to. A nurse like him feeling pitiful towards you was just natural.
He laid you on your bed as Karasu waited outside your room again. Bored and out of his mind. While Isagi grabbed a new towel to dry your hair out, the drug's going to last in a few more minutes. The dose was strong enough to put you to sleep, and the time limit was long enough for him to bathe and cover you up entirely.
Isagi dressed you up in new undergarments as he professionally put on your hospital gown, holding you like how a loving husband would take care of his sick wife.
He dried out your hair and let you rest for a bit, sighing from exhaustion yet satisfied for cleaning you up, giving himself a moment. How can someone like you just end up here? The whole staff knew what you did, preparing a schedule for you as he watched you peacefully sleep on the soft bed. So the last step was putting in your tracker, locked on your wrists, the cold metal blinking red against your skin.
He then cleaned up before Karasu would question his extended period of time in there as he grabbed the damp towels and left.
“Just wait for her to wake up.” Was all he said as he closed the door, the man in security uniform scoffed, already knowing what to do as he watched Isagi walk away while taking off the plastic cover up. “..Like I don't know shit.”
—---
“How are you feeling today, miss (Y/n)? Or do you prefer that I address you to your preference?”
You were still woozy from earlier, though you felt refreshed, tiredly sitting across Dr. Yukimiya’s desk, facing the floor. The pretty man stared at you with his glasses perched on his nose, patiently waiting for you to respond as time passed by.
*Snap*
You slowly looked up to see him raise his hand, his gentle yet forced smile never left his face. He snapped his fingers to get your attention. “..Are you here with me miss (Y/n)?”
“...Mrs.”
“I'm sorry, what was that?”
“Mrs. (Y/n)..”
“Ah alright then.” Yukimiya Kenyu is one of the best in managing holistic therapy, especially including one of his best methods, hypnotherapy.
“For this session, I'd like you to relax yourself and put your awareness to the lowest point, can you do that Mrs. (Y/n)?” He asked, holding onto a pocket watch as you nodded. “Very good.” He stood up from his seat, leading you to the long cushion for you to lay down as he took his notes. “I want you to think about anything that calms you down, but first, focus on my watch.”
A gold pocket watch dangled on his fingers, swaying left and right as your eyes followed it, instead of a spiral like you see in movies, it was just a regular one.
The ticking sound it made was quite addictive to hear as your focus was starting to leer, the pocket watch entirely grabbed your attention. “Think of it hard Mrs. (Y/n), the ocean? The sound of the forest? You’ll be entering a state of finding peace thinking of it.”
The room was quiet around you, warping into a pitch black space, your body relaxed as the watch did nothing but sway left and right. *Tick tock tick tock* It rang in your ears repeatedly, there's nothing else but you and the watch, no other sound but your breathing the ticks, and his voice. “Does the sound of the beach calm you? Or what about the rain?”
You couldn't answer him due to being entranced, his voice was muffled in your head, too comfortable to get out as you feel a bit sleepy. “Imagine one of the happiest moments in your life…” His voice was fading away, and in your head, you'd see your husband swaying you sideways to the slow music, hands on your waist and yours wrapped around his neck, dinner just finished as you both danced in the night.
“Or think about your husband cheating on you.”
You snapped out of your thoughts, everything had gone back to normal as your vision had disappeared. Only to be met by his face, your eyes wide with your heart beating quickly.
“..What?” You stared at him angrily, still in shock about what he just told you. “Ah.. nothing, you must've misheard me.” He calmly reassured you, writing down on his notes.
“We’ll continue our session on the next meet up,” You looked at the clock and saw the time, 4:00 pm, 3 hours since you came into his office.
“Time flies really fast when you're under the influence or intensely focused on what you're doing..” He smiled towards you, a minute had passed as you stood up and left, not wanting to stay in there any longer.
—---
“Right now's your free time, do whatever you want 4-6 pm. I'll catch up to you before dinner.” Was what Karasu had said before leaving you at the court, you looked at the tracker on your wrist, quite a thick one as you then looked around the court, heading inside a random building to explore and familiarise yourself.
You hear laughing behind you, whispers on the other, screaming and yelling on the rooms as you roam around. “They won't save us, they won't save any of us..” you heard an old woman mumbling in her room, her door was wide open and left alone, sitting in her bed as her eyes laid on you, as you stared back.
“They can't help you” She whispered like she was trying to warn you, your legs automatically walked on their own, slowly approaching her as she slowly smiled, her eyes close to crying.
“Then why am I here?” You asked her, but all she did was nod her head sideways, looking hysterical, her mouth shut as nurses came inside, “Please leave, she needs her meds.” One of them ushered you out as you looked back, they were injecting her wrist, as the poor old lady yelped in pain.
So back in the hallways you go again, the warm lights turning to a colder color the more you walk further from the crowded area. You were at the entrance, a few nurses doing their jobs as you see a few civilians at the reception desk, crying their eyes out to see their loved ones being placed here as they leave.
You walked further down the hallway, no longer seeing a soul in there as you explored, the sounds of your padded footsteps and shaky breathing was all you could hear. Doors upon doors you pass by as you look at the paintings hanging on the walls.
*Thud*
You paused your steps upon hearing the muffled bang beside you, a storage room for the pharmacy. You were close to just ignoring it till another thud hit the wall again, curious, you opened the door slowly, seeing a short hallway and upon heading inside with a faint light in the corner.
You walked closer, hearing muffled sounds as you reached the edge. “F-faster..” A woman moaned out, you peeked your head and saw an officer fucking the woman from the reception desk you saw earlier.
She was clutching onto his two-toned hair, black and green underneath as they both moaned, his pants were discarded as he carried her, resting her against the wall with boxes of medication stacked on each other,
“Ya fucking needy doll…” The man's voice was quite gruff, the sounds of skin slapping against each other as you watched, not knowing what to feel about this encounter.
But then she saw you, and instead of stopping because they were caught, she only smirked. “Ollieeee~” She moaned out a bit louder, her lipstick was ruined, grabbing onto him tighter as the man just mindlessly fucked her brains out, not knowing about your presence.
‘No one's going to believe you’ Was written all over her face, and that made you mad. You left the area quietly, heading back to the court area at a fast pace.
Your knuckles turned white, not out of jealousy, but because you wanted to murder her for making you feel that way. Because who does she think she is?
She felt superior because she works as a nurse at the reception desk and getting railed, and you? You're just a patient, one that's mental in the head. Who's gonna believe you for seeing two workers slacking off just to fuck each other instead of doing their jobs?
You'll deal with her in the meantime before you escape, but for now, it's time to focus on making the plan.
—---
The mess hall was loud, Karasu found you sitting alone in the bench near the grassy court. The walk from there was normal, though he tried to ask you about how you were doing here but all you did was nod, looking around the area to see any accessible rooms to hide when night falls.
But Karasu noticed, “Don't even think about escaping, locks are tight to break through and security doubles at night, so give it up.” He was discouraging you and you know he's right, but there has to be a way out.
You poked at your own dinner and analyzed it, shepherd's pie, a salad, and a side of peppered salmon. The more you looked at it, you slowly realized that this was the dinner you had with your husband during your anniversary, the exact same thing.
You lifted your head in a panic, feeling weirded out as you looked around the cafeteria, a sea of patients, nurses, and guards scattered all over.
You still must be asleep with Isagi still bathing you, speaking off, you're still mad at him for putting you to sleep behind your back. Upon looking down, you did a double look towards your food, greens, potato salad, and chicken tenders.
‘What the hell?’ You rubbed your eyes in confusion. Just what is it with you today? You pinched yourself, definitely wide awake, you listened to the cryptic convos of patients besides you, definitely still conscious. There's nothing wrong with you.
So you shook it off and ate away with your dinner. Though the feeling of being watched with multiple sets of eyes made you feel paranoid and shiver under it.
—---
It was time for bed, everyone was lined up by section, a nurse had given you a capsule with a glass of water, “These help you with your sleep.” You hesitantly looked at it, the pill resting against your palm didn't look promising yet, she wouldn't leave until you took it.
You swallowed the pill and drank the glass of water, feeling it slide down your throat as the nurse grabbed the cup and guided you back to your room. Locking it.
You stared at your bed, looking soft, covered in clean sheets as you lay on it. You thought about whatever just happened today, the encounters, the situations, the convos.
You were questioning yourself, but you're sure enough that you're not insane. You laid yourself on the bed, doubt was filling you up, you had scouted the area for the rest of your free time to look for an escape after seeing that…event.
Anger seethed up, that nurse pricked at you and it left a scar, you’ll do something about it, probably get her fired or murder her, if you can. Sleep started to consume you, eyelids heavy and body relaxed, did they give you a sleeping pill? If so, it’s working, as much as you hate it, you begin to drift away as the sounds of muffled screaming from a different room left your ears.
(A/n): Brooo this was supposed to be a one-shot with no parts or continuation but I js had to write it out like this to prioritize plot TOT so ig 2-3 or so parts coming in </3
Pairing: Prince/Firelord!Geto x Belly Dancer!Reader x Prince Zuko
Synopsis: You are hired as the live entertainment for the Fire Nation's annual celebration as a belly dancer, groomed to dance for the elite and wealthy. You entertain with your body for a living and you're happy to do so, finding purpose and enjoyment in your dancing. Unbeknowst to you, two certain Firelord brothers have found enjoyment in your dancing as well and they are prepared to show you one hot night within the privacy of a bedroom.
Warnings: 18+; No Curse/Avatar AU; Brother!Geto x Brother!Zuko; Incest (but not really cuz they not f*cking each other lol); Threesome; Seduction; Body Worship; Curvy!Reader; Belly Dancing; Stripping; Dom!Geto x sub!Reader x Switch!Zuko; Dual Pussy Eating; Sharing Is Caring; Dual Blowjob; Deepthroating; Facefucking; Spit Play; Doggystyle; Mating Press; Breeding; Raw Creampies; Mild Power Play; Reader Cums 3x; Aftercare
Word Count: 9.1k
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!
Writer's Note: This is my first installment for @madamechrissy's crossover collab!! Y'all please go give her ALL the love, grace & praise because she deserves it!! This woman is just as amazing just as a person as she is a writer & I'm honored that she puts up with my horny ideas lmaoo enjoy!!! <3 -Jazz
Credits: Zuko x Geto fanart found on Pinterest! If you know the artist, PLEASE tag me so I can properly credit them! Divider by @cursed-carmine!
You stand at the threshold of the master bedroom belonging to the Firelord, Prince Zuko, the polished mahogany doors staring back at you.
Dozens of Fire Nation guards, tasked with protecting the royals, stand outside against the wall, two on either side of you. They were the ones who guided you here, telling you that the Firelords requested to see you tonight.
You have every assumption as to why. It isn't a rarity or unaccustomed to you for royal members to request for you after hiring you for a party. You are a dancer, after all...with some other "skills" on the side that you use to your advantage.
While you know how to play the game among the royal court and have no problem refusing to spend the night with any royals after performing for them at one of their grand parties, you would be lying if you said you didn't want to be alone with the Firelords for the night.
You have been around them for some time now. As the royal belly dancer, groomed to dance for the elite and the wealthy, you were bound to make the acquaintance of the Fire Nation Family at some point...including the Firelord brothers. Both calm, poised, mysterious, and devilishly handsome.
They have been on your radar for a long time, filling your endless nights with hot fantasies of the two of them. Sometimes one at a time, sometimes together. Entangled limbs, your fingertips caressing their muscles, their tongues licking stripes across your skin.
You long to tear down that wall of mystery and restraint that the brothers have meticulously built around themselves. Especially that Zuko. He is quiet and stoic, only speaking when required, preferring to talk with his actions instead. Geto Suguru is more open, striking either fear or intrigue into anyone with his charming smile and cunningness.
And now here you are, standing right outside of the brother's doors prepared to greet them. The twirling in your stomach is not of fear but of anticipation, wondering where the night will bring you. You bring up your fist and lightly knock, polite but firm. "Enter," a deep, silky voice commands. Geto's voice.
The voice that has commanded attacks on enemies and brought you to orgasm so many times. Swallowing hard, you twist the doorknob and enter the master bedroom. It is a large, wide space with stone walls and windows overlooking the courtyard and Fire Nation, the summer breeze and afternoon sun pouring into the room.
On one side sits a large king-sized bed topped with pillows of all sizes and arrays of gold and red. The same as the carpets and curtains softly swaying in the summer evening. Geto Suguru, the oldest brother, sits in the middle of the room on the carpeted floor surrounded by a slew of expensive pillows and blankets.
He sits at a knee-level table surrounded with delicacies of all kinds, granite teacups with a brewing teapot, and a bottle of fireflower juice spiked with cinnamon, one of the most expensive bottles of alcohol in all the land. Geto is draped in a fine red robe adorned in intricate gold stitching at the flaps and black pants, his feet bare and black locks cascading down his muscular back.
He turns to look when you enter, his violet eyes piercing a hole into you. The butterflies in your tummy swarm, making your heart pound furiously in your chest.
“You required my services, Your Highness?” you ask, trying to keep your voice level and steady. Alas, it shakes a bit, coming out breathless at the sight of the handsome man. He gives you a small smile that is like a smack in the face. “Yes, little dancer. Come; have a seat. You may not be so formal with me. Call me Suguru."
You blink, unsure of how to reply. It is rare that a royal wants someone who is not within the court to be formal. His smile deepens, humored. “You look at me as if I’m tricking you. I can assure you that my father is nowhere within these four walls.” He then turns to the left side of the room where the light doesn't reach. “Isn’t that right, brother?”
You turn your head and that is when you see Zuko sitting there on a lounging sofa, wearing a black robe to blend in with the darkness. You can just see that his hair is also out, cascading in black waves down his back, and he is sipping some tea. You jump, placing a hand on your beating heart. “Oh! Prince Zuko, forgive me. I did not know you were here.”
Zuko doesn't reply; he only stares, somehow staring right through you. Both of his eyes render you speechless—the wounded one included. Many do not regard Zuko the same way they do Geto due to his burn scar, but you have always thought the disfigurement was quite sexy.
Geto chuckles, pouring himself some fireflower juice. “Don’t mind him. Zuko can be an enigma when he wants to be…which is all the time.” He smirks when his brother gives him a sharp glare from across the room. “Quiet, Geto. Don’t make me request your removal from this room.”
Geto smirks at you, unbothered by his brother's heated threat. “That’s code for “don’t make me murder you”,” he chuckles. “Nice, isn’t he?” He gives you a wink, jutting his chin at you. "To what may we call you? Though we know your name, we want you to feel comfortable."
Comfortable. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Many men always say this when you're within the confines of their bedroom, only wanting you relaxed so they may take advantage. "Y/N," you reply, giving the brothers a respectful bow as you shut the door behind you. It shuts with a click, making your stomach flip.
Zuko nods over at the table where his brother sits. “You may sit. Plenty of room.” Geto hums in agreement, a flame flickering from his fingertip as he lights himself a pipe filled with tobacco leaves. The smoke wafts through the air as you slowly walk across the room, feeling their eyes on you.
Though you are covered by a shawl draped over your shoulders, it is mesh, which means your midrif top showing off your stomach and long skirt that doesn't do much to hide your curves. Both red and decorated in gold stitching, dripping in gold beads that clink whenever you twist, turn, or move your hips and stomach when you dance.
You don't feel uncomfortable the way you used to whenever men ogled at your moves. If anything, you feel powerful. But now, under the brothers' hot gazes as you sit at the table, you feel exposed. Your layers peeled back like a fruit.
Geto motions down at the array of finger food before you: cheeses, dates, crusted breads, fruits covered in chocolate. “Would you care for a bite? Perhaps a drink? I have tea, water, wine…perhaps something stronger?” He eyes the bottle of fireflower juice sitting next to him.
You choose wine to loosen yourself up, grateful for the crisp taste as it slides down your throat once Geto pours you a goblet. “Thank you for your invitation, My Lords.
Geto shrugs like it's nothing, smoke billowing attractively from between his pink lips. The bottom lip is piercing with a small ring, unfortunately drawing your attention to his mouth. “Of course. You needed it after that performance you put on, I’m sure.” You act shy and modest, staring down at your wine. “Oh, it’s nothing. For me, that was a simple dance. I have done plenty more complex and strenuous.”
You were hired tonight to perform for the Fire Nation's Royal Family and their close party, dancing among the sounds of the drums and guitars as fire eaters surrounded you, swallowing swords emblazoned with flames. The flames were hot, but you were hotter. You danced like the heat didn't bother you, sweat sliding over your damp skin and curves as you winded and swirled your hips.
As you danced, surrounded by all of the royals, your eyes caught the brothers' gazes through the flicker of the flames, orange and red flickering across their handsome faces. Their unyielding gazes spurred you on, making your hips move faster and your body slither like a snake. You are famous among the royals for your dance moves and you were guaranteed to make them remember you.
Starting with the Firelord brothers. “Oh, well, we wouldn’t want that," Geto chuckles. "It’s important to care for your body. Especially if you are dancing for royalty.” He winks across the room at Zuko. “And since my brother adores your dancing so.”
“Shut up, Geto,” he growls. “I do not!” You turn towards the younger brother, a pit in your stomach at his words. “You don’t?” you ask, cocking your head at him. Zuko realizes his mistake and quick tries to backtrack, his cheeks hot with a flush. “N-No, I meant…I didn’t mean—“
Geto tosses his head back and laughs, the sound oh-so attractive and pulling a smile out of you. “A catch, isn’t he? He can lead the Fire Nation Army into attack on the frontlines, but he can’t even form a sentence in front of a pretty woman.”
Zuko snarls, teeth bared, gleaming in the twilight. “You’re testing me, brother. I’m about this close to throwing a fire ball at your head.” Geto mockingly gasps, putting a dramatic hand to his broad chest. “And scare the lady? How else will you find yourself a mate?”
You quickly try to stamp out the fire quickly growing between the brothers. “I am used to violence, I assure you both. And this is quite tame for me.” You turn to Zuko with an inviting smile, knowing that he is the shyer, quieter one. “Will you join us, Your Highness?”
Zuko looks surprised at the offer, his brows raising slightly. He shoots a look at Geto who nods, smirking quietly at his younger brother. “Just as long as my brother knows to keep his words wise and his brain intact," he grumbles. Geto chuckles as Zuko rises, barefoot and quiet as he strides over to join you at the table.
He sits with Geto on his knees across from you, pouring himself some more tea. Geto passes Zuko the pipe to which the young prince gags at, putting it aside on the table. “Come; let us toast." Geto raises his glass of fireflower juice high, his eyes shining. "To a night of wonders and surprises.”
“Cheers," you giggle, clinking your goblet with the brothers before taking a sip of your crisp wine. The sliver of afternoon sun has vanished now and the moon has taken the sun's place, leaving the room shining in a white glow. “Did you enjoy tonight’s festivities, Y/N?” Geto asks, his voice soft as silk. It makes you shudder in pleasure. “As much as I could. It’s hard to do much when you’re being ordered to be on your feet for most of the night.”
The older brother chuckles, taking another puff of his pipe as Zuko silently sips his tea. “Well, here you will not have that. I’m sure your feet must be sore.” You think you see both brothers' eyes flicker down to your soft feet and French-tipped toes, manicured and pretty, but you pass it off as a trick of the moonlight.
“No, you misunderstand. I do not hark on sore feet. It comes with my work and I would not give up being a dancer for anything.” You mean the words to the bottom of your heart, but Geto chuckles, thinking it is a joke. “For the money, I’m sure.” You smile, humoring him. “The pay is just the tip of the iceberg for me. I only wish to entertain others with my body. To dance is my—“
“Passion,” Zuko finishes, surprising you and Geto with his voice. “That’s rare.” Geto agrees, his gaze softening. “Mm. Quite rare. Very admirable. And quite sweet of you.”
You shiver at the brothers' praise, feeling a flood of endorphins that you've never felt from any compliment before. For a few minutes, you sip your wine in silence, letting the alcohol take over. “How did I make you feel?” you boldly ask. “When I danced?” The brothers look surprised at the random question at first, but Geto answers nonetheless. “Enchanted. Like you were putting me under a spell that I didn’t want to escape."
His violet eyes capture you between the wisps of smoke billowing from his lush lips. You force yourself to focus on his face instead. "You flatter me, sir," you giggle. Then you turn to Zuko who is silent, unmoving. "What about you, Your Highness? Did I please you as much as your brother with my moves?"
You didn't mean for it to sound so suggestive, and Zuko catches on, his cheeks growing red. "Does it matter that much to you?" he asks, not unkindly but just confused.
You nod, keeping your kind, welcoming smile. "Of course! If I'm hired to dance for the Fire Nation's princes and their court, it's my duty to entertain and please." Again: very suggestive. Perhaps you're throwing down the hammer a little too hard, but the brothers' quiet seduction and mingling scents of floral (Zuko) and cloves (Geto) is driving you to the brink of insanity.
"Oh, he was entertained," Geto smirkingly replies, sliding a suggestive look at Zuko. "And very pleased. Weren't you, brother?" Zuko elbows his brother in the side, earning a choked chuckle in response. But realizing you're waiting for an answer, he gulps and regains composure. "You were...very nice," he mildly replies into his tea cup. "I have seen belly dancing before, but not the way you do it. Where did you learn?"
You smile and explain to him about your home and culture. You tell them that you learned from your grandmother who taught your mother and older sister. You tell them that belly dancing is considered an important dance within your culture, using your body to make art. The two listen intently, making you feel shy despite dancing for a living.
"You flatter me too, Your Highness," you chuckle, staring through your lashes at Zuko. "Your kindness is a gift and to dance for you is an honor." Zuko blushes hot red at your sweetness, averting his gaze. "The pleasure is all ours," Geto replies with a twinkle in his eye. "Though we are leaving one thing out as to why you're here."
You sip more wine, letting the buzzing, warm feeling grow. "Oh? What is that?" Geto gives Zuko a knowing look, but the younger brother ignores him, instead pouring more tea. Your heart pounds and the heat you felt growing intensifies, making the room feel tense.
"Forgive us for coming off as nothing more than dogs, but I'm afraid we loved your dancing so much that we preferred to have it in private." Geto pauses, puffing on his pipe, sizing you up with his eyes.
You ignore the way your body sizzles at his confession. You were hoping you were here for that reason...among others. "You want me to dance for you?" you ask. "Right here?"
Geto sits back against the pillows, exposing a sliver of his abs to you. "If you wish. Though we commanded your presence, we want you to be comfortable here with us. That body is too perfect to be forced to do anything it doesn't wish to."
His words are made of saccharine and silk, making you buzz like you just drank a whole bottle of wine. Though Zuko doesn't say anything, his look, so intimate and personal, tells you everything. They truly mean what they say. If they wanted more from you, they would've taken it by now, you realize.
So you smile, letting your walls fall completely down. "Of course. I am at your service, Your Highnesses," you purr. "You have made me very comfortable without needing to, so who am I to refuse your command? However, I do not have any music."
"Geto can play guitar," Zuko replies. He snaps at his older brother, impatient. "Play something. Now." Geto only smiles, humored by his brother's flip switch in attitude. "Oooo, someone's desperate to see some more moves. Did you think the Firelord would be so demanding?"
"Yes, I did," you giggle as Geto rises to his feet, going to fetch his guitar. "But I am sure you both are to a degree. I would think the Firelords would be if you get your way all the time."
Geto returns with a small guitar and sits cross-legged at the table, placing it in his lap. "Oh, little dancer, we get our way all the time. And you will get yours if you continue to move the way you do." His seductive words cause a trail of heat to snake down to between your thighs, but you ignore it. Not yet.
"How will you have me, My Lords?" you purr, unable to keep the sex out of your voice. Geto elbows Zuko, letting him talk. The young prince's eyes bore into yours, intense and fiery. "Stand right there," he softly commands, nodding at the window. "In the moonlight."
You rise to your feet and slink over to the window, standing in the sliver of moonlight serving as your spotlight. Then the music begins, Geto's fingers stroking and strumming the guitar strings the way you picture him doing to your body. The music is soft with a bit of Indian scales added to it. "Dance for us, love," he encourages. "However you wish."
And so you dance. Under the silvery moon and the hot gazes of the princes, you wind your hips, flip your hair, and move your stomach so impressively like it's made of water. You twist, grind, and sway, letting the music control you. When the guitar strums get bolder and faster, you move with them, your movements more intense but still controlled.
The watchful eyes of your princes encourage you, pushing your aching muscles and winding hips to move faster until completion. You reach the same peak you would with an orgasm, feeling a tightness in your core that bursts until you're coating in explosive pleasure that makes you gasp. You hit a pose, raising your arms high as you face the princes, coating from head to toe in sweat.
Geto stops playing and applauds you while Zuko sits still as a statue, gobsmacked. "Beautiful," he murmurs. You smile at the praise, bowing. "Did that please you, My Lords?" you ask, out of breath and pumped full of arousal. You can feel your slick travel down between your thighs and you clamp them shut in an effort to hide the scent of your slick.
The aura in the room has shifted, leaving a tense feeling in the air that the brothers feel too. You can tell from how rigid they both sit as if trying to seem normal but miserably failing. Geto is the only one who comes clean, moving the guitar from his lap to reveal his bulge under his robe. "Yes, lovely...a little too much. I am sure you can see it."
His eyes slide over to Zuko and sure enough, the younger prince is sporting a hard cock under his slacks as well. "Oh," you sigh, your eyes glued to their bulges. "Your Highnesses..." You stare, unashamed and so unproper. And not caring one bite.
"F-Forgive me," Zuko stammers, covering his hard-on with a pillow as he madly blushes. "You can leave if you don't like this. I'm not usually like this." He looks ashamed and shy, averting his eyes from yours.
But you shake your head, mouth practically watering. "It's alright. You're just making me blush." And quite wet. You can't remember the last time your pussy has felt this tingly and open, waiting for some attention. Geto raises a brow at you, catching onto your game. "Oh? And why is that?" he asks, his voice much deeper than usual.
Zuko turns to you, his attention once again pulled back to you. You stare at both, unable to hide your want anymore. "Perhaps you're not the only one who's been enchanted," you whisper. "Maybe I'm feeling this fire too."
Silently, the two brothers share a look and finally, they rise to their feet. Zuko drops the pillow, revealing his bulge again, and is the first to make his way over to you. You feel wobbly and unsteady as he strides towards you, all muscle and discipline under his silk robe, standing a whole head taller than you.
But when he finally nears you, you are neither intimidated or frightened. If anything, you are oh-so aroused and attracted to his height and strength. He places his fists at his sides, his muscles tense, jaw working. "I want to touch you," he hoarsely confesses. "I want to...kiss you. Will you let me?"
He dares to finally touch you, placing his hand in yours. You swallow hard as his long fingers lace through yours, just as Geto comes up behind you. It is sudden and silent, making for a great sneak attack. All you feel is his dick pressing into your backside, hard and hot, making your brain muddy. You turn to Zuko with an answer on your tongue, your pussy throbbing impatiently. "I—Oh!" you gasp before your face is being forced to turn to the side and Geto's lips are on yours, his fingers on your cheek.
Prince Geto kisses like a dream. A wet dream, that is. His lips are soft and spiked from the fireflower juice, but they are also wet and supple, his tongue sliding across yours. You kiss him back, your lips moving together in a heated dance, soft moans traveling between you. Zuko watches, enraged. "Hey, asshole! You said we were sharing her, remember?"
Geto chuckles against your lips, pulling away with a hooded look your way. "Sorry, brother, but you were too slow. I couldn't wait to have these lips any longer." His thumb gently massages your bottom lip, nearly sending you through the ceiling."That kiss was meant for your brother, Your Highness," you giggle. "Although that was quite a kiss."
Geto smiles pridefully, his hands finding your hips. "What can I say? I aim to please, little one." He leans in to steal another, but Zuko beats him to it, turning your chin to face him. "I kiss way better," he mutters before he sweeps your lips up in a kiss. He is no longer the shy, stoic man you met earlier; now, the man in his place is bold and unabashed as he kisses you down, making you melt beneath his lips.
Geto watches his brother kiss you as he sandwiches you between himself and Zuko, hard muscle pressed against soft curves. "Mmm, you feel so fucking good," he groans, his hands caressing your curves. "For so long, we've watched you. Craved you. Just wanted to keep you to myself."
Zuko eyes him from over your head as he pulls away from kissing you, your taste on his lips. "Don't get ahead of yourself, brother. You're in MY room." You smile at their little rivalry, placing a hand on both of their broad chests. "You may keep me," you giggle. "We have tonight, don't we?" Geto looks surprised at your agreement, thoughtfully stroking your sides. "Is that because you want us to? Or because you want to please us? Be honest, little dancer."
His big hand cups your chin as he kisses you once more, the scent of tobacco wafting off of him in intoxicating waves. Zuko peppers your neck in kisses, overstimulating you in the best way possible to the point where you're gasping and panting for air when his older brother pulls away. "I want it too," you confess.
How can you not? Every kiss, touch, and word from the brothers are like the strongest hits of a drug. You crave more of them, selfishly. You want to be the one who says that you danced and had a night of endless sex with the Firelord brothers, pleasing them with your body in every way possible.
Zuko smiles against your neck and Geto gives you a devastatingly pretty grin, overjoyed at your confession. He takes your hands and presses his lips to your knuckles, making your stomach flip. "Then lay down and let us explore you. Pleasing you will please us."
And you believe him. Plus, the idea of the Firelord brothers being two givers and pleasers is something you definitely want to explore more of. Two handsome princes who would like to please YOU, a homely dancer girl, because it gets them off? You'd be an idiot to refuse this!
Zuko anchors your attention back to him with his soft lips and nimble fingers caressing your body, running up and down your stomach. "Will you let us touch you?" he murmurs, a plea in his tone. You grasp one of his hands, clamping it tightly against your body, not wanting him to let go. "Yes," you whisper. "Please touch me."
You twist around to kiss the younger prince, his surprised moans swallowed by your wine-spiked tongue. Geto chuckles, taking a handful of your ass in his big, calloused hands. "Such sweet begging. And such a sweet body too." Together, the brothers share your body, their hands indulging in your curves the way you have only dreamed of. You usually swallow back cringes whenever a man touches you, but them? It's nothing but shivers and sensations that make you want to melt. "Oh," you sigh, unable to utter anything but mere words.
As Zuko busies himself kissing your neck and breasts (without taking off your top, of course, because he's a gentleman), Geto manages to slip some of your skirt down to expose your hip dips and the curve of your spine. "A-Ah," you moan, your hips bucking into Zuko as Geto kisses down your stomach, his fingers playing with your hips and gliding down your sides to your thighs.
He stares up at you and the way your back curves as your head tilts back, your hair cascading down like a sweet-smelling river. "You like that, pretty?" he teases. "You want me to go lower?" His hand slides under your skirt and you gasp when you feel his thick fingers caress you between your thighs, right over your damp panties. Arousal explodes like a firework inside of you and you can no longer bear the foreplay anymore.
"Yes, please," you whisper. Your voice is soft and breathless; needy. Just what the royal brothers want. Together, they kneel and pull up your skirt, exposing your thong and bare thighs underneath. They groan at the sight of your asscheeks looking so plump wedged between the tight thong. "Oh, fuck," Zuko softly moans, just above a shudder.
"Goddamn!" Geto gasps, staring mesmerized at the slick dripping down your thighs. "Look at how wet she is, brother. All for me." His tongue juts out to lick your inner thigh, giving you a taste of the cool metal of his tongue piercing. Zuko's eyes cut over to his brother, sharp and irritated. "You mean all for us. Don't play with me right now, Suguru."
Geto smirks, gently suckling on your thigh just to hear you moan. "My bad, brother. It's just so much fun teasing you. We will share this sweet pussy of hers and make her cum her brains out." He stares up at you, eyes twinkling. "That sound good to you, little one?"
So inviting. So considerate. So in tune with your body and your pleasure. Nothing has ever sounded better. So you lay down among the soft, luxurious pillows and allow the brothers to split your thighs open beneath your skirt, groaning at the sight of your lace thong so soaked through the fabric to the point where you are dripping wet.
Geto dares to pull the tiny article of fabric down your legs, exposing your pussy, puffy with arousal and glistening with your nectar. Some of it coats your inner thighs and the slit of your asshole, making you bite your lip as the summer breeze hits your sensitive pussy lips. "Ooo, look at her, brother," Geto murmurs, mesmerized by your slick. "So much here for us to share. We must indulge and—"
"I go first," Zuko cuts in before diving face first into your pussy. You gasp, your hand instantly grasping his long black locks as his soft lips mash with yours between your soft thighs, toned from years of dancing. "Oh!" you gasp, eyes bugging at the pleasure. "M-My Lord, that's s-so good! Oh, fuck yes!"
Zuko is quite a wonder at eating pussy. He does it as if he loves it, moaning as his tongue sends lightning strikes across your clit. Geto watches on, knelt beside his brother with a disapproving frown. "So much for sharing," he mutters. "Don't I get a little taste?"
Zuko looks irked by the mere thought of sharing you, but still, he scoots over an inch to allow some space for Geto. "Fine, but just stay out of my way." Then he goes right back to slipping his tongue between your sticky, wet pussy lips, drawing moans from deep in your chest out of you.
Geto smirks, peppering your right inner thigh in wet kisses, his fingers pressing into the muscle as he spreads it away from your pussy. "You're just worried that I'll make her cum before you do. Don't you know pierced tongues do it better?"
Moments later, you are writhing, bucking, and twisting like you're experiencing an exorcism on the princes' pillows and in their hands clamped tight on your thighs and under your ass as their tongues slash and skate hungrily along your pussy. Their tongues slash along your slit, alternating between your dripping hole and your clit buzzing with pleasure and all kinds of sensations.
When Zuko slides his tongue inside of you, Geto sucks your clit, moaning as he does so. They totally devour you whole, the lewd sounds of their fat, wet tongues swirling between your thighs. Their faces are pressed flush against each other, cheek to cheek, as they give you two tongues to lose your mind over...and you do. "Oh, fuck!" you cry out, gripping the pillows beneath you. "God, My Lords, yes! More please! Don't stop!"
Geto pulls away from your clit to smile, his violet eyes drinking in the way you massage your tits and tweak your nipples over your top. "You hear that, brother? She loves my mouth on that pretty clit."
Zuko growls as he pulls his tongue out of your pussy, the muscle sticking with your juices. "You sure that isn't because my tongue is deep inside of her?" So the brothers turn to you, expecting the truth."Tell me, little one: do you like my tongue or my brother's?" Geto asks in his silky voice as he rips your top down, exposing both of your precious, full tits to them.
"Both," you moan, surprised you can even speak. "Both of you are making me feel so good!" The brothers smile, satisfied with your answer. "Mmm, nice answer, baby," Geto hums. "Perhaps you'd like this tongue a bit lower?"
And then his fat, pierced, royal tongue is sliding down between your asscheeks, licking and sucking greedily at the tiny hole. Zuko begins to suck and lick on your clit now, humming as he takes the tiny rosebud into his mouth and does wonders to it, his mouth made of magic.
"Oh, my God!" you groan, your fingers lacing through their long, silky locks. Your back arches off of the floor, your body totally at their mercy. The vibrations of Geto's chuckle in your ass make you shudder, every sensation like a tidal wave of pleasure. "Mmm, naughty girl. Getting wetter from my tongue in your pretty little hole," he murmurs.
So he can feel it. You noticed a brief few minutes ago after Geto started eating your ass that your pussy has gotten significantly wetter, and not just because of Zuko's eager tongue. You are gushing like a waterfall, sending your honey dripping into the mouths of the younger prince. "Fuck, I think she's close!" Zuko groans, feeling your pussy tightening around his tongue now.
If he didn't feel that, you're sure he would've suspected by how loud you've gotten. Your moans and whimpers can't be contained anymore, bouncing off of his bedroom walls. "You're gonna cum for me now, sweetness?" Geto huskily asks, using his two fingers to gently rub at your asshole, making you damn near cream on yourself.
Zuko snarls into your pussy, anger radiating through his muscles flexing underneath his robe. "No, she's gonna cum for me," he growls. "Stop distracting her."
"I'm gonna cum for you both!" you desperately moan, grasping at their silky locks of hair, pushing them deeper into your holes, as far as they can possibly go. "Please, please make me cum, my Lords! Don't stop!" Zuko mumbles nonsense into your pussy while Geto laughs, speaking through wicked flicks of his tongue against your ass. "Never, little one. Just cum for us. Let go. We've got you now."
And like a puppet on a string, pulled by the princes' wicked and convincing tongue strokes, you let out a loud whine as you cum all over their faces. You soak their smoothly-shaven cheeks and chins as you cream, flooding their mouths with your nectar straight from the source of your sweet-like-sugar pussy. They share groans of satisfaction and need as they slurp up your essence, making you cry out and whine as your pussy throbs and tingles with every agonizing stroke of their tongues.
When you finally come down from your high, a smile stretches across your face, matching the one sliding along the princes' lips. "Mmm-hmm," Zuko hums as he pecks your tummy, making you twitch. His fingers glide along your sweat-soaked skin, slightly warmed by his fire abilities. "Mmm, good girl," Geto praises you, giving your ass a squeeze. "How was that?"
You are more than happy to let him know: "Like heaven. Thank you, My Lords." You sit up from your fort of pillows, want racing through your veins as you gaze at the handsome men before you. "Now I must please you both as well."
The princes must feel the fire radiating from your molten gaze because they don't hesitate giving you what you want. They each stand, racing each other to see who can do it the fastest. "Let's get her on the bed," Zuko requests. "I don't want her on the floor doing this."
You grin when he offers you a hand to help you stand. "How sweet of you, My Lord," you hum, taking his hand in yours, but even as you stand, your legs feel like jelly. Luckily, you have a certain young prince to help you. Surprising both himself, Geto, and you, he scoops you up into his arms and carries you over to his bed. "Oh!" you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck.
Geto watches sourly, following behind. "Show-off," he scoffs. Zuko gives him a wink, pleased with himself. "Don't look so upset, brother. I'm just playing your own game is all...and winning."
Your giggles continue as Zuko swiftly walks over to the bed and gently places you down on the satin sheets, soft to the touch. The two princes stand at the foot of the bed, looking over your curves like you're a dessert plate. "So what are you waiting for, brother?" Geto asks, slyly smirking at Zuko. "Get udnressed and drop your pants...unless you're too afraid to get shown up by me."
As you laze about on the sheets, biting your lip in anticipation, you watch the Firelords disrobe for you. Your eyes are drawn to their fingers as they untie their robes while their eyes are locked soley on your beautiful face and body. Your arousal practically explodes and spills over when they expose their toned bodies to you, every part of them carved with muscle, their lower stomaches adorned in patches of fine black hair.
When their pants are finally off, you come face to face with what you've dreaming about for ages. Their dicks are just as beautiful as you pictured them being—different in size and shape, one thicker than the other, the other curving upward, but both throbbing, rock hard, and ready for you.
Geto raises a teasing brow down at you and your dreamy expression. "Well? You wanted to suck some royal dicks, right? Here you are now, little dancer." He wraps a hand around himself, gently pumping from base to tip. "Take them, little one, but you must do your very best for us, okay?"
Zuko flushes as you sit up in front of them, flashing him your naked tits, much to his dick's enjoyment. "Of course, Your Highness," you purr. "I would give you nothing less." You begin slow, using some body oil on the bedside table next to you to pour onto their hard dicks and into your palms, making both slick and shiny.
Then it's strictly about pleasing the two princes. Stroking, pumping, and sucking. Your pussy gushes at each deep moan, gasp, and swear that escapes the princes' lips as you alternate between sucking and stroking them. Geto throws his long hair back and moans in ecstasy as you pump him with your mouth, your lush, wet lips sliding up and down his shaft.
"Ah, fuck," he sighs, his handsome face contorted in pleasure. "God, that's fucking good." His big hand tangles in your hair, holding you firm, while Zuko watches in awe as your dainty hand strokes his dick in tandem. "Her hand feels good t-too," he stammers. You pull away from Geto's cock, strands of spit connecting his cockhead to your bottom lip.
"It feels good, my Prince?" you purr, staring at Zuko through your lashes. "Would you like my mouth as well?" Zuko can't even speak; he can only jerkingly nod as his cock twitches in your palm. You smile and wrap your mouth around him next, sliding him deep into your throat and against your tongue. Zuko's eyes widen at the new sensations, his mouth agape as your tight, wet throat closes around him and slides up and down his shaft.
"Oh, fuck!" he moans, clenching his fists at his sides as you bob up and down his dick, moaning in enjoyment. Geto watches on through hooded eyes, fucking your hand slick with oil.
You continue to work Zuko's dick in your throat, hollowing your cheeks and staring into his eyes. When you need to breathe, you slide him out of your throat only to suck and lick on his tip, earning a desperate hiss through his teeth. "Y-You...oh, fuck, how do you do that with your tongue?"
"This?" you ask before you push the brothers' cocks together and lick both of their tips at the same time, earning wanton groans in response. You continue to alternate between them, giving them as much tender, love, and care as possible, causing your own spit to pool down your chin and soak your tits.
But Geto soon takes initiative, your mouth too much for him, and grips your hair as he pushes himself deep down your throat. You gag in surprise, but you don't dare push him away, letting him use your throat for his pleasure. "Deeper," he grunts. "Come on now, love, don't give up. Take that fucking dick."
His moans are aphrodiasics to you as he fucks your mouth, his balls gently slapping against your chin. Black strands of hair hang in his handsome face, his composure lost as he thrusts deeper and deeper, filling your throat up with his cock. Zuko practically melts at the lewd sight, his cock growing bigger and thicker as he watches your mouth stretch around his brother's dick.
Geto notices and smiles, pulling out with a groan to tap his dick against your tongue. "You wanna try, brother?" he pants. "Just fuck her throat nice and deep. Make her take it." After some coaching, Zuko swallows hard and slides himself inside of your mouth.
Obediently, you take his slow, deep thrusts as he gets used to your throat closing around him, causing more spit to drip down your chin, making you look like a professional cock slut. The moans that Zuko lets out are choked and wanton, traveling straight to your soaked pussy. You can't help but play with yourself as Zuko fucks your throat, using it as he would a fleshlight.
Geto notices your fingers working between your thighs and smiles, raising his brows. "Oooo, someone's being quite naughty," he chuckles. "I suspect you need to be treated kindly down here again, sweetness?" Slowly, he switches places and climbs onto the bed behind you, placing his big hands on your hips. You feel his cock nudge your pussy lips apart, allowing your wetness to drench his tip.
"You want this dick now, darling? Can you take me and my brother at the same time?" Zuko groans as he slips out of your throat, allowing you to speak, which you eventually do once your moaning over Geto's cock rubbing against your pussy stops. "Yes!" you gasp. "Please fuck me, Suguru! I need y—"
You can't finish because he's already sliding in, filling you to the brim with dick. Your mouth falls agape as you're stretched open on his thick dick, expanding on every sensation you've ever felt. "S-Sorry, love, but your begging was just too damn cute," the older prince stammers, biting his lush bottom lip as you squeeze him tight. "Y-you—oh, fuck—feel so fucking good."
Zuko watches you bounce against his brother's dick buried deep inside of you, your tits swaying enticingly back and forth. "Don't tire her out. I still need to fuck her too." Geto chuckles, moving his fingers down to rub your clit in time with his breathtaking thrusts. "Sure...if she doesn't cum too hard. I'm known for doing that to women."
An irritated growl escapes Zuko as he slides his cock in your mouth again, keeping his thrusts a bit slower and lighter to not overwhelm you. How sweet of him. "Just fuck her and shut up," he growls. "I'll show you that I can do just as good of a job." Geto raises an interested brow, his smirk wicked and sly. "Oh, can you now? I'll hold you to that, little brother."
And then together, the two fuck you off of their cocks, pushing and pulling you back and forth. It is like some erotic seesaw, the rhythm building the more they fuck your dripping holes. Zuko's resolve drops with every thrust of his dick down your tight throat and ripple of your ass bouncing back against Geto's cock. "That's it," he grunts. "You suck me so well, baby. So fucking good!"
The way you squeal and moan around Zuko's cock makes Geto fuck you a little faster, placing a foot on the bed. It drives him deeper inside of you, to the point where you damn near feel him in your tummy. "Yeah? You like sucking my brother's fat dick while I fuck you with mine?" he pants. "That pussy certainly seems to."
Your pussy concurs, dripping over his fingers as he rubs your clit in time with his thrusts. You feel his eyes roll over your curves, drinking in the way sweat rolls off of your blessed body. "Fuck yes," he hisses. "How is this body so amazing, hm?" He begins to harshly palm your ass, indulging in the way your soft asscheeks ripple and bounce in time with his thrusts. Your body tingles at his touch, needing more. "Spank me!" you whimper.
"Seriously?" Zuko asks, surprised by such a request. But Geto is grinning like a kid on Christmas. "Oh, I'm gonna have some fun with you, little one." He then raises his palm and swats your ass repeatedly, the harsh sounds of his hand coming down on your ass exploding against the bedroom walls.
SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!
The assault on your ass combined with Geto's mind-melting thrusts is too much and soon, you feel your second orgasm cresting like a full moon. "M'gonna cum!" you moan around Zuko's cock. "Please harder, My Lord! Fuck me faster!" Geto's groan is fit for a porno, filled with need and desperation. "Of course, cutie. Anything you want."
So he thrusts harder, faster, his balls slapping against your clit. Sparks of pleasure explode through your body as you bounce back against his dick, practically fucking yourself as he pounds into you, taking and giving at the same time. "Such cute begging. Such a sweetheart," he grunts. He leans forward, capturing your tits in both of his big palms. "Gonna make me fucking cum. Make me breed you."
The idea of being bred by one of the princes–or both–turns you on more than you care to admit. You can only moan around Zuko's throbbing dick as Geto fucks your pussy like he owns it, chasing his orgasm. "M'gonna cum!" he groans. "You ready, little one? Ready to take this load?"
"Mmm-hmm!" you moan around Zuko's dick twitching in your throat. You don't get a chance to prepare before a hot rush of cum is flooding your insides, followed by a loud groan from Geto as he empties himself inside of you. You quickly cum as well, shuddering and shaking as your orgasm takes you on a journey through the stars and beyond.
Zuko watches as your eyes roll back with his cock still stuffed in your mouth, your orgasm taking complete control in addition to the hot gush of spunk that Geto gives you. It seems to last forever until Geto's grip on your tits eases and his thrusts grow sloppy until they finally slow.
He sighs as he slooooowly slides out of you, groaning at the gush of cum that manages to escape your pussy. You slide your mouth off of Zuko's cock and collapse between them, totally spent and breathless. Geto smirks at Zuko, cocky and proud of his work. "Told you she'd tap out," he chuckles. Gently, he strokes your ass, leaning down to check on you. "Tuckered out, little dancer? Or can you take more?"
More. Yes. Your body reacts immediately, igniting with need like a wildfire. You slowly sit up on your knees, staring into the worried gaze of Prince Zuko. "Do you wish to continue? We can stop if you—oh, fuck!"
He doesn't get a chance to finish because of your vicious sucking again, swallowing him whole and giving him a few pumps of your throat that make his toes curl. You pull away, lips coated in spit and pre-cum, bating your lashes at him. "Please fuck me, my Lord," you whimper. "I need to make you feel good too."
Zuko stares, blushing and intensely aroused, while Geto smirks at the sight. "You heard the girl. So you gonna show me up or what?" As if a switch flips, Zuko's shy demeanor vanishes, replaced with someone so determined to please you. "I want her on her back," he requests above a growl. "I want her to look at me when I make her cum."
His lewd words sound like a promise to your ears, fierce and impassioned, making your stomach flip with anticipation for what will come next...and hopefully cum next too.
Moments later, you're taken to euphoria again when Zuko is fucking you in missionary, hips slamming against yours as you lay back against Geto's broad chest. He holds your legs open for his brother, watching as Zuko fucks your pussy into his bed. The lewd noises of his dick sloshing and squelching in your wet pussy drifts through the air, mixing with your loud moans and his groans of pleasure.
There is a symphony of sex swimming in the air, uninterrupted or silenced, only growing more intense the deeper and faster Zuko fucks you. "Oh, my God, yes!" you wail against the bedsprings creaking. "That's so good, Zuko, fuck!"
The younger prince smiles, black strands of his hair cascading over his broad shoulders and face glistening in beads of sweat glistening in the moonlight. "Yeah? Better than my brother, right?" Geto glares from behind you, teasing your hard nipples as his brother continues to pound you into the mattress. "Watch it. I could snatch that pussy away from you easily."
Zuko breathlessly chuckles, his cock somehow twitching in your pussy at the prospect of such a challenge. "Doesn't seem like she'd like that," he grunts. "She—oooo, fuck, she's squeezing around me so tight!" He pauses to spit on your pussy, a drop of saliva dripping from his mouth to drench your puffy, sticky pussy lips.
You can only gasp as he slides in again, deeper, making you take every thick inch of him. Your eyes roll back and your mouth falls slack on desperate, loud moans and gasps as he draws himself inside of you, trapping you between himself and his brother. "I want to devour you, little dancer," he groans. "Wanna keep you here and make you mine over and over again."
He leans down to press himself against you, using his arms to hold himself up, encasing you in a prison of muscle that you don't want to escape. He presses his forehead against yours, staring deep into the very loins of your soul as he fucks you deep. "Would you like that?" he whispers.
You only whine in response, unable to formulate proper words. Geto laces a hand around your throat, squeezing. "Answer my brother, pretty girl. You wanna stay here and let my brother fuck you until you cum over and over again?" Zuko goes harder. Faster. Pistoning that dick inside of you and forcing you to answer. "Yes!" you wail. "Both of you! I want both of you, please!"
Geto's chest rumbles as he softly laughs, wrapping those big arms around you to hold you close as Zuko pins your thighs apart to fuck you in semi-mating press. "Then cum for me," Zuko grunts. "Give me all of that honey, baby, please. I need it. Please, please, please."
His begging is a straight drug lacing through your veins, getting closer and closer to yet another intense orgasm. Geto kisses down your neck as he squeezes you tight, anchoring you down before you float off as your orgasm crests. "Give it to him now, darling," he whispers. "Cum for him. Cum for us again."
It doesn't take long—not with the way Zuko is desperately moaning above you as he chases his orgasm head on, his cock sliding against your slick, wet pussy walls until he can't take much more. "Fuck, I'm cumming!" he gasps. "I-I can't...stop! Gonna fill you up!"
Plap, plap, plap goes his hips against your thighs as his thrusts grow faster and faster until finally—
"Fuck!" you both gasp in unison as Zuko floods your insides with his cum and you drench him in your cream, finally released from your bottle of self control. Your body would definitely be levitating if it isn't for Geto's beefy arms snaking around you, holding you close and holding you down, forcing you to take his brother's load deep inside of you.
Your eyes roll back and your body twitches as you cum, cum, and cum, drenching Zuko's cock and balls in your honey. He groans as he fills you, his dick twitching inside of you as the last of his spurts of spunk escape him and enter you, breeding you the same as his brother did moments before.
Finally spent, Zuko slowly pulls out of you, collapsing onto his back, his muscular body slick with sweat illuminated by the moonlight. For a while, there is only comfortable silence spiked with the afterglow of sex. "That was amazing," you finally sigh, delirious.
"Mmm-hmm," Geto hums in agreement. "Except..." He grips your chin and squeezes it tight, forcing you to look back at him. His violet eyes are firm yet fiery, making your stomach flip with excitement. "What do you say?" he asks, his tone dripping with authority.
You aren't sure what he means at first, your brain still mushy from your three orgasms. But then you realize it when Zuko snuggles up to your side and kisses your cheek. "Thank you, my princes," you whisper. Geto smiles and pecks your lips, satisfied. "You're very welcome, little one. Now let's get you cleaned up."
You thought tonight couldn't get any better, but that's before Geto carries you off to Zuko's large bathchambers and runs some hot water in a stone pool for you. Zuko adds some kind of liquid that has an herbal scent to the water, turning it a slight teal color and creating bubbles. The brothers get into the steaming water first before offering you their hands. "Careful now," Geto murmurs. "Gently. The water isn't going anywhere."
You take their hands and slowly step into the pool, hissing at the heat at first. But soon, the water soothes your tired muscles and you melt into the bubbles. Zuko pulls you towards him, letting you lean back against his broad chest while you face Geto, your feet on his beating heart. "Good?" Zuko asks.
"Yes," you sigh, content. "I am the envy of all women right now." Geto smiles, gently kissing both of your feet as you relax further into the water. "And we are the envy of all men. You made us feel so good tonight, love."
The praise fuels you the way the herbal-scented water does, making you feel brand new. In this little world with the three of you, surrounded by nothing but the bubbles and water, you feel like nothing and no one matters. Just tonight. Just this moment of bliss.
So you lean against Zuko's chest and hum with contentment, smiling when he tangles his fingers in your wet hair, allowing yourself to fall completely and totally in the little sanctuary your princes have built...even if it's just for tonight.
"The only question is whose dick made you cum more?" Geto asks. "Mine or my brother's?"
SPLASH!
Geto suddenly gets a mouthful of soapy water flung at him by his brother while you giggle profusely. "Get the fuck out, Geto," Zuko growls. "Or I'll drown you."
Dark! Team Green/ Targtower! Reader/Dark! Team Black
Summary ✧ As the youngest daughter of King Viserys Targaryen I and Queen Alicent Hightower, you are kept locked away where only your mother can see you. That is, until the Dance of the Dragons begins.
I have always enjoyed creating content because i genuinely love the game and the lovely community. My goal has always been to share that passion through art that brings excitement and enjoyment to fellow players.
I was deeply disappointed by the recent announcement. Many players were eagerly looking forward to valko, and the sudden decision has left a large part of the community feeling disheartened. Seeing so many passionate players affected by this has also been difficult for me as a creator, I sincerely hope it gets resolved soon. I truly want to continue creating content that brings positivity.
summary: you are forced to navigate what your relationship means when it’s falling down the order of Garrett’s priorities.
request: yes/no
warnings: swearing, garrett being a bad boyfriend.
word count: 4.04k
authors note: okay I actually really liked this, like acc ended up crying at the end of writing this so if you get emotional easily, grab yourself some tissues.
You had been cursed by the plague of being a hopeless romantic.
Fairy tales had been thrust into your life as a young girl since before you could walk, you knew all the lyrics to every Disney princess song by the time you were six.
By your tenth birthday, you had a book made that had every single wish and want that you had for your future boyfriend.
Your parents swore that if your second love for running hadn’t come into your life. You would have lived each day to dream.
By the time that you were 18, you had experienced twelve new kisses, three boyfriends, one of whom was a sexual partner too.
You had nothing against any of them, but when each one ended, you never seemed that phased, as if you knew it was going to end.
It was because you knew that you hadn’t met your person.
Or at least that was the case until Garrett Graham came into your life.
You'd met at a hockey party, argued over a game of beer pong, and kissed in the kitchen an hour later. Garrett Graham had smiled against your lips and you laughed at everyone else who swore that he was going to be the boy to break your heart.
With every anniversary or milestone that you two have reached. You swore that they were all wrong and that you and Garrett were truly meant to be.
Your friends joked that he was your very own Noah Calhoun, as the man was practically a shadow of himself if you weren’t around.
He showed up to every track meet with flowers as he sat right next to your parents, cheering you on while you ran down the finishing straight. And if your parents couldn’t make it, then Garrett gave them the world’s longest play-by-play afterwards.
The two of you were perfect together. By the end of sophomore year, the boys joked that your wedding would happen before you both graduated. Tucker had these long thoughts about how he’d design your wedding cake. While Dean and Logan argued over who would be the officiant of the wedding.
You never told either boy, but you knew that it would actually be Beau who filled that slot.
Most days when you had downtime, you spent them sitting on the boys’ couch. Most of the time, you were attempting to do work or edit your training schedule. Before, it was Garrett who would try to distract you.
Smothering you in kisses or pulling you into his arms as he shut your laptop. But now, it was Dean looking over your shoulder to see what you were working on or Tucker offering you a snack. Occasionally, you even got an appearance from Logan, who taught you the basics of mechanical work.
And that day seemed no different “sorry babe, I can’t do our date tonight.” Garrett leaned over the couch as he pressed a kiss on your cheek.
You held back a sigh as you turned your head to face him “why is that?” You asked as you frowned, a little upset, actually, “Hannah rescheduled our tutoring session.”
Dean awkwardly sat next to you as you forced yourself to smile, “tell her I say hi!” The blonde swore in that moment that you were squeezing your laptop so hard you might almost break it.
Garrett nodded before he left for the door without a second thought “okay so am I just like a fucking idiot or does everyone else see that?”
Logan nodded from the kitchen, “third time this week now?” And that was what almost made it official.
You got up as you shook your head “I am going to go throw myself off of a cliff before I hit him.” You announced to the boys who all frowned “just talk to him seriously.”
You knew Tucker came from a good place, which is why you didn’t tell him how wrong he was “we have just found a way to stop fighting with each other-” you sighed as you looked to the front door where Garrett left from.
The truth was that for the past three weeks, the two of you couldn’t go a few minutes without fighting.
The topics varied.
Sometimes, Garrett felt like you didn’t care that he was stressed with being captain. Other times, you felt like the little time left in your schedules should be used on each other.
And when it got particularly bad, you actually stopped keeping track of what seemed to set the two of you off.
This date night that Garrett kept bailing on was meant to be the real proof that the two of you had turned a page.
That the rough that you had been dealing with was just weeds in a garden, not rot within the house.
Dean clicked his tongue “bit hard to fight him when he keeps on seeing her instead.” She was Hannah Wells.
You met her a few times in passing, the girl complimented your pace and you always loved the way that she was so friendly at Malone’s.
She had started tutoring Garrett in philosophy a few weeks ago and was Garrett’s newest excuse for why he was too busy for you.
Training, film review, school, tutoring, if there was an excuse to get out of seeing you, you had heard it.
At the beginning, you really didn’t mind, you knew he was busy because he had all of these responsibilities.
But a responsibility is telling your girlfriend that you need to reschedule your anniversary date, hours in advance. Not when you were sat at the restaurant, a glass of wine in and the waiter actually ended up giving it to you on the house as he felt bad.
For every excuse that he gave you, you found another help make his case.
And by now you were starting to get a little more than just irritated “I am going to bid you boys farewell and hope that you are having more sex than your captain before I say anything else!” You shoved your laptop in your bag as Logan frowned when Dean laughed.
He stopped what he was working on in the kitchen as he came out to face you before you left “you know, girlfriend or not, we are your friend too.” Dean and Tucker nodded at his words.
It made you softly smile “love you, boys.” You kissed your fingers before you waved them goodbye.
As you left the house, your nose scrunched, because that place stopped feeling like Garrett’s. In fact, it was starting to feel a whole load like there was a river between the two of you that neither one was ready or willing to cross.
Garrett called out your name when he saw you.
You didn’t turn right away.
That was new for you. Normally, you’d turn instantly, instinctively, like muscle memory. Like gravity.
But this time, your body lagged behind your pride and even your brain as you contemplated ditching the heels you were in to break into a sprint.
He caught up quickly anyway.
Athletic stride, slightly out of breath, like he’d been running through excuses before he even got to you.
When he stepped into your line of sight, you finally looked at him.
And something in your chest tightened at how normal he looked. Like he hadn’t just not shown up to one of the most important nights you’d had planned in weeks “I got held up,” he said immediately.
Not an apology.
Not yet.
Just the explanation he must’ve rehearsed on the way here.
You blinked once, “you didn’t come.” He looked at how gorgeous you looked that night.
You’d never tell him that you bought the dress specifically for that night.
His mouth opened, then closed again. Like he’d expected you to argue with him instead of just stating it plainly, “I tried,” he said, softer “coach pulled me in after practice and I lost track of time. Then film ran longer than it should’ve and-”
You nodded slowly, cutting through it without raising your voice “I sat there for an hour without anything from you.”That stopped him.
Properly stopped him.
Because now it wasn’t a scheduling issue or a misunderstanding or something messy he could rearrange into something forgivable.
It was just time“I know,” he said, rubbing a hand through his hair, frustrated at himself more than anything else now.
Garret sighed as he rubbed his face with his hand “I should have called or texted or.” Then list stopped when he noticed how you frowned
You weren’t interested in an excuse, especially not from him tonight “you should’ve come,” you interrupted quietly as you knew Coach Jensen would never force the guys to stay for review.
Silence settled between you.
Not the loud kind. Not the angry kind.
The kind that felt like it had been building for weeks and finally found somewhere to land.
You looked past him for a second, at the path behind him, at the restaurant district lights in the distance “I kept telling myself it was fine,” you said, almost to yourself.
You pushed your hair up behind your head “that I just needed to be understanding this week.” A big game was coming up against another highly ranked team
Your fingers tightened slightly around your phone “but I’m starting to feel like I’m always the one making space for you.”His jaw flexed. He looked like he wanted to interrupt, but didn’t.
That was the worst part.
Not denial.
Not defensiveness.
Just him listening like he knew he didn’t have a clean answer, “I really didn’t mean for tonight to go like this.” And that was the problem.
Because Garrett never meant for anything to ever go like this.
Yet somehow it always did “I know,” you replied.
And you did.
That was what made it worse.
Because even as you stood there, remembering how embarrassed you felt when you left the restaurant alone. Your throat tightened, but your voice stayed steady “I just wish you were there tonight.” You felt stupid for keeping things to yourself; you wanted Garrett to act like things actually mattered.
That landed differently.
He stepped closer, slower this time, like he was afraid of pushing you further away “I’m here now,” he said, wishing that it was enough.
A young couple exited one of the buildings behind Garrett with their hands locked into each others and grins on their faces.
The boy leaned over to say something that made the girl laugh and you knew exactly how that felt.
Because Garrett used to be like that with you.
You could feel it in the way you weren’t reaching for him. In the way he wasn’t touching you yet either.
Like both of you were suddenly aware that something fragile had been stretched too far “I don’t want this to become normal,” you said, making the boy clench his teeth.
His eyes snapped to yours at that.
“What?”
“This,” you clarified, gesturing slightly between you “you not being there. Me convincing myself it’s okay.”
His expression tightened “I promise that it won’t,” he said immediately. Too fast. Too certain.
You shook your head once “please don’t promise me that if you don’t mean it.” That hit him harder than anything else you’d said.
Because you were right.
He couldn’t say he’d give you the world if he only planned on showing you one town.
He stepped closer again, but slower now, more careful “I messed this up,” he said honestly “I did. And I hate that I did it tonight of all nights.”
You looked at him for a long moment.
Really looked.
Not at the hockey player everyone talked about.
Not at the captain people relied on.
Just at the boy who was standing there like he didn’t know how to fix something he couldn’t outwork.
The same boy who told you during your freshman year that he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have you “I don’t need you to hate it,” you said softly. “I just need you to show up.”
That time, he didn’t argue.
He just nodded once, like he was taking the weight of it fully.
Then he stepped forward, and you didn’t resist it.
But you didn’t fully lean in either.
His arms wrapped around you anyway, steadying you like he could physically hold together something he was scared he was losing.
After a moment, he shifted slightly, and you felt his hand rest at the back of your head.
And then he pressed a kiss there.
Just quiet.
Like a promise, he didn’t know how else to say out loud.
When he pulled back slightly, his voice was low “I’ll make it up to you,” he announced as he hooked his fingers under your chin.
Garrett wanted to tell you that you looked gorgeous, but somehow the words never left his lips “I’ll make it up to you properly.” And as you nodded, Garrett let his jacket hang on your shoulders before the two of you walked back to your dorm.
By the time that drunken Shakespeare had come and gone, it was official that everyone knew something was going on between the two of you.
The IT couple of Briar U had cracked, because they weren’t as perfect as everyone had started to believe.
You tried to ignore the rumours about Hannah and Garrett, but you knew you were just an idiot.
It had been days since the two of you had spoken, almost a month since Garrett sent you a good morning or goodnight text.
The boys kept their promise as they continued to check up on you. In the first two weeks, it was because they really did miss you. But by now they were worried.
It was the fact that there was no real end in sight because Garrett still spoke about being your boyfriend, when he seemed to remember your existence.
And you still let your eyes settle on the door, as you waited for your Garrett to walk back in.
For him to tell you that he was so sorry for the way he had you feeling like it was your fault.
It had been weeks of you swearing that you were fine.
And that should have been something that the boys listened to, but they knew you better than that.
You had been going on late-night runs every day, and each time you wanted to stop you couldn’t.
The two of you had texted occasionally, throughout the time apart. But you hadn’t see the boy in person.
It wasn’t even vocalised between the two of you that there was something wrong.
And that was what left your runs to be the longest ones you ever did.
Because somehow, your anger drove your feet.
Further and harder than you ever thought was possible.
The quiet and clear sky somehow managed to soothe your mind.
And on this particular night, it seemed that Garrett had the same idea when he stood outside of the library.
He was in the middle of a tutoring session, and he craved the break he got from the solitude.
So when he saw you running, part of him thought that he would have ducked to go back inside.
But instead, his feet drove him directly into your path “hey,” he nodded as you pulled your AirPod out of your ear.
You cocked your head “hi.” You pursed your lips together, a little surprised that he was talking to you.
It had probably been over a month since Garrett initiated a conversation with you in person.
You crossed your arms as you waited for him to talk “how are you?” The small talk between the two of you felt weird.
And you had to admit that you weren’t a fan of it “I’m glad to hear you still remember how to talk to me.” Your words were honest, and it was what hurt.
Garrett scoffed, “of course I know how to talk to you.” The look you gave him said otherwise.
“Yeah but can you look at me for more than five minutes?”
The boy pinched the bridge of his nose “what are you playing at?” He looked up at the sky, making you almost laugh.
You felt tired, actually, you felt exhausted “when you got onto that stage with her, you didn’t even look at me.” You weren’t accusing him about anything.
You knew that Garrett would never cross a line with Hannah. But it was getting hard to make your heart hear it in the same way your brain did.
Garrent let out a harsh sigh, unsure of wht he was having this fight with you again “you know I love you,” if you weren’t paying attention, you would have sworn that he was actually asking you a question.
Your chest ached as you fiddled with the ring on your finger. It had been one that Garrett gave you for your 20th birthday “but are you in love with me?” Silence followed, and that was the true nail in the coffin.
Of course he did, his brain almost short-circuited at the absurdity of the question, “what’s that supposed to mean?” His hands landed on his hips as he grew defensive.
You sighed as you paused your run time on your watch “look I don’t want to fight tonight.” You announced as you watched the boy scoff.
The hockey player frowned, “don’t push me away like this.” He pleaded as he shook his head.
Tears welled in your eyes “I am holding on for dear life Gar,” you had felt like you were barely able to keep your head above water for weeks now and you hated it.
You hated that you cared so much for someone who felt like they were pushing you away.
But you hated more that Garrett could check out of the relationship that made you feel like you were in a fairytale.
That he could stand in front of you like every time he made up an excuse to not see you, wasn’t killing your confidence every time “I need you like you are the best reason that I have each day to smile.” The words pressed into his chest as he couldn’t remember the last time that he made you smile, “but I need you to need me back!”
Silence loomed over the two of you.
And that somehow hurt the most.
Not that you didn’t think that Garrett no longer cared, but that he couldn’t even try to offer an argument to you.
You pressed your hands against the sides of your head “why won’t you just let me all the way in!” The question came as Garrett backed away.
Throughout the years he always found the perfect excuse to not have you meet his dad. It seemed that everyone in his circle knew his father but you “of course I let you in I love you!” Garrett argued back as you shook your head.
It was a topic that you knew came with baggage “I know your comfort meals.” You found out after your first fight when Garrett begged Tucker to help him make it for you “I know that your favourite movie to watch is a chick flick.”
The edges of his mouth curved upward as he smiled “but I don’t know what scares you in this world.” Your voice broke “or why you love hockey.”
“Or why you’ve met my whole family and your dad doesn’t even know that I exist.”
It cut deep as Garrett always envied how sweet and loving your parents were, they looked at you like you were the best thing since sliced bread.
Garrett reached for your hand but you pulled away “I am so tired of feeling sad.” You shook your head as tears openly streamed down your face now.
You sniffled harshly, “god I’d rather feel nothing at all than have to go through one more fucking moment of whatever this is.” Your heart felt lighter as you spoke, getting the thoughts you so desperately needed to let go of out of your mind.
The boy shoved his hands into his pockets “what am I meant to do about that?” He rolled his eyes, feeling like this was another fight.
But instead, you merely sighed, “I don’t know anymore, Gar.” You chewed at the inside of your cheek to try to convince your mind that this wasn’t the thing that was hurting.
You used the back of your hand to wipe the snot coming from your nose “y’know, I really thought that in this break we’ve had for the last week that you would come back first.” You actually laughed at that, cursing yourself for how clearly foolish you had been.
He stayed quiet “that you would come back and tell me that you realised there was no one else you could be with but me,” Garrett watched as you looked away, Hannah had started walking towards the two of you.
You couldn’t even fault the girl as she sent you a comforting smile, stopping in her tracks when she saw that you had been crying “I wanted you to tell me that you would rather be alone than live one second in this place without me.” Venom laced your words even if you didn’t mean for it to happen.
Garrett sighed as he raked his fingers through his curls “I never meant to hurt you,” his words should have provided you with some comfort.
They should have made you realise that this wasn’t your fault “but you did Garrett.” You shrugged as you somehow were left feeling worse.
You stepped back as he stepped forward, as the cold autumn breeze brushed around campus, it was clear much like how the seasons were changing from fall to winter, that there was an end between the two of you too.
Still you hoped that Garrett would find a way to fight.
And still you ended up disappointed “I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you needed,” Garrett knew that when things were going well he was a part of the reason why you were on cloud nine.
But when he was gone, he was the reason why you were sad. Even if it was an event for you, his lack of presence would be the thing your brain lingered on.
Part of you wanted to tell him that he was your dream in human form.
But that part had been hurt one too many times by him to speak, “and I’m sorry I wasn’t a girl worth loving.” In that moment, your words captured everything that you had been feeling for weeks.
Garrett watched as you turned around, not bothering to put your AirPod back into your ear as you carried on the rest of your run.
He clenched his hands as he knew he couldn’t go after you. Yes Garrett loved you, but he wasn’t sure how he was meant to treat you with the value that you deserved.
You were the one who reminded Garrett how to laugh in rooms where he was meant to be quiet. How the worst days could be made better by simply talking to you, because somehow you always knew what to say to put his mind at ease.
The boy never spoke to Phil about you because you were a light in his world that his dad worked so hard to keep dark.
So when he watched you leave, Garrett didn’t know what to do, because part of him wanted to run after you.
But there was a quieter part that knew you deserved the right to leave him and the shitshow that was his world. Because that was what he always assumed would happen anyway, so that was why he never let you in fully.
Because at least once you left you wouldn’t pity him if you didn’t know his full story “you should go back inside, it’s cold out here.” Hannah’s voice was kind, but Garrett didn’t let his eyes fall from where you ran to.
“I’m good.”
Because if he did, then he’d have to admit that he was far from it.
Hi!!! Do you have any good recommendations for Off-Campus fanfics featuring poly relationships? I’ve been looking but can’t seem to find any (the only one I found involves Beau and Dean, and I need more). I feel like I’m going crazy because I keep seeing the same fics over and over again 😭. I also started reading a fic with the three guys and Tucker’s sister where she was very innocent but unfortunately, I lost it 🫠. So, if you have any recommendations, I’d love to hear them, please!
michael robinavitch/the pitt x medstudent!robinavitch!reader | masterlist
Dashboard (5.6k words) - 6/10/26
your relationship with your father had always been less than ideal since you were a kid. too much emotional weight on a child and not enough support from the adult supposed to be taking care of her. robby thought you were just an easy kid, but he didn't seem to realize that you are in fact his daughter, even as you constantly remind him of such
It's All Washing Over Me (10.9k words) - 6/20/26
after six years of avoiding it, you're finally forced to make your way back home. things should feel easier as you make the transition back to something familiar, but it only fills you with dread to think about finishing your years as a med student at the pitt, working under your father.
I Wish You Could Know Me (13.1k words) - 7/5/26
coming back to your hometown and seeing how your father interacts with his younger coworkers already made you wish your relationship was different. But having him constantly remind you of such really made it hard to heal, especially on your birthday.
Summary: Having studied Valyrian history and sorcery, you perform a ritual to save Jace's life after the battle of Gullet, except he's not quite who he used to be after he comes back from death's doorstep.
a/n: Reader is Daemon's daughter but it's not indicated from which marriage, take your pick.
The sea was grey that morning, mirroring the stone of Dragonstone itself. You stood at the window of your chamber, a heavy tome resting against your chest, its pages filled with script so old the ink had begun to flake away like dried blood. Below, the waves crashed against the volcanic rock, and high above, the clouds swirled in a slow, mournful dance. The whole world seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for a death that had not yet come.
Jacaerys had been lying in the maester's chamber for eight days.
You had counted each one. Eight days since Baela had landed Moondancer on the cliffs, screaming for help, her face streaked with salt and soot and grief. Eight days since they had carried his body, his body, not him, you had refused to think of it as him, from the dragon's back, wrapped in a cloak soaked through with seawater and blood. The Battle of the Gullet had been a victory, they said, but it did not feel like one. It felt like the world had been cracked open, and all the light was spilling out.
You remembered the sight of him when they brought him in. His face had been so pale it was nearly grey, his lips bloodless, his dark hair matted with salt and gore. Three arrows had struck him. One in the shoulder, one in the side, and the third, the one that made the maesters exchange those terrible, silent looks, lodged in his neck, just above the collarbone, so close to the great vessels that carried life through the body that even the most experienced of them had hesitated before touching it.
He had not drowned, they said, because he had been found clinging to a piece of driftwood, his fingers locked around it so tightly they had to pry them loose. Vermax had not been so fortunate. The young dragon had crashed into the waves, pierced by bolts and arrows, and the sea had taken him. Jace would have felt that, you knew. Even bleeding out into the water, he would have felt his dragon die.
You had not wept when they told you. You had stood very still, your hands clasped in front of you, and you had listened, and then you had gone to your chamber and opened the oldest book you possessed and begun to read.
Now, eight days later, you had read everything. Every scrap of text, every fragment of lore, every whispered rumor that had ever been committed to parchment about the old Valyrian ways. You had read until your eyes burned and your head ached and the words blurred together like blood in water. And you had found something.
The accounts of King Maegor the Cruel were not pleasant reading. His reign was a litany of atrocities, his name a curse upon the lips of even the most loyal Targaryen historians. But buried within the chronicles of his brutality was a single, strange thread: the story of his survival after the Trial of Seven. Maegor had fallen in combat, struck down by blows that should have killed him. He had lain insensible for nearly a moon's turn, his wounds festering, his body failing. The maesters had given him up for dead. And then, somehow, he had risen. He had opened his eyes, and he had stood, and he had walked out of that sickroom with a fury that would consume the realm.
The official histories attributed this to the will of the gods or the strength of his dragon blood, but you had found other writings. Theories scrawled in the margins of old texts, penned by maesters too afraid to speak openly. They pointed to Tyanna of Pentos, Maegor's wife. She had been rumored to practice dark arts, blood magic, the forbidden sorceries of the East. And there were those who believed that when Maegor lay dying, Tyanna had not healed him. She had remade him. She had poured life into him through sacrifice, through the transfer of vital essence, through a ritual that bound flesh to will and pulled a soul back from the abyss. Some texts even dared to name what he had become: a fire wight, a creature of flame, animated not by the natural processes of the body but by the burning power of blood and magic.
It was, the most cautious of the writers had noted, remarkably similar to the tales told by the red priests of R'hllor in far-off Asshai and Volantis. Their god could raise the dead, they claimed, could breathe fire back into cold lungs and set hearts beating again. But the price was always blood. Always life. Always a piece of the one who performed the working.
You had closed that book with trembling hands and gone to find your father.
Daemon Targaryen had returned to Dragonstone three days prior, summoned by a raven from your stepmother. Rhaenyra had called him back from Harrenhal not to mourn, but to act. The war had paused for no grief, and the Queen needed her husband's fire and his ruthlessness and his terrible, unwavering certainty. You had watched him arrive on Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm's crimson scales a slash of violent color against the grey sky, and you had seen the way his face had tightened when they told him about Jace.
Now, he stood in your chamber, the door closed behind him, turning the pages of your book with the same hands that had wielded Dark Sister for decades. His expression was unreadable.
"This is dangerous knowledge," he said at last. "Where did you find it?"
"Here," you said. "In the library. In the vaults below. Dragonstone is old, father." You swallowed hard. "Tyanna was not the only one who knew these rites. The Valyrians practiced blood magic for thousands of years. They used it to bind their dragons, to shape the very stone of their towers. This is just…another application."
Daemon looked at you, and for a moment you saw something flicker in his gaze. Pride, perhaps, or recognition. You were his daughter, after all, no matter which marriage had produced you. You had his blood in your veins, his fire, his refusal to accept the world as it was when you could bend it to your will instead.
"You want to do this for the boy," he said.
"He is my betrothed," you said, and your voice cracked on the word despite your best efforts. "He has been my betrothed since I was old enough to understand what the word meant. I was meant to marry him, father. I was meant to stand beside him when he took the throne. I was meant to…" You stopped, pressing your lips together, forcing the tears back. You would not weep. Not yet. Not while there was still something you could do.
Daemon was silent for a long moment. Then he closed the book and set it aside.
"The maesters believe he will die," he said. "They will not say it to Rhaenyra's face, they value their heads too much for that, but they have stopped trying to remove the arrow from his neck. They say it is too close to the artery. They say he has lost too much blood. They say even if he wakes, the wound will fester and poison him from within." His jaw tightened. "He is dying, daughter. Slowly but surely. If you do nothing, he will be dead anyway."
"Then I have to try," you said.
"Yes," Daemon agreed, and there was something almost gentle in his voice, something you had not heard from him in a very long time. "You do. And I will help you."
"Rhaenyra..."
"Rhaenyra must not know." Daemon's voice hardened. "She is already half-mad with grief. If she knew what we were attempting, she would forbid it. Or she would hope too much, and the disappointment would destroy her if you failed. No. This stays between us. I will stand guard outside the door. I will make certain no one disturbs you. Whatever you need, candles, herbs, a blade, I shall provide it. The rest is up to you."
You nodded, your heart beating so fast you could feel it in your throat. "Tonight," you said. "It has to be tonight. The maesters say the hour just before dawn is the most dangerous. If he survives until morning, it will be a miracle. I need to act before then."
Daemon reached out and put his firm hand on your shoulder. "You are my daughter," he said. "You have my blood. Whatever you need to do, do it without hesitation. Do it without doubt. The magic will know if your will wavers."
"I won't waver," you said.
He looked at you for a long moment, and then he nodded. "I know you won't."
The hour was late when you made your way to the chamber where Jacaerys lay. The castle was quiet, the servants and guards moving through the corridors like ghosts, their footsteps muffled by the weight of impending tragedy. Everyone knew. Everyone was waiting. The heir to the heir, the bright young prince who had flown to the Gullet with fire in his heart, was slipping away, and there was nothing anyone could do.
Except you. You could do something. You would do something.
Daemon walked beside you, a silent shadow in black and red. When you reached the door to Jace's chamber, he stopped and turned to face you.
"I will be here," he said quietly. "No one will enter until you open this door from the inside. Take as long as you need."
You nodded, not trusting your voice, and pushed open the heavy wooden door.
The room was dim, lit only by a single candle on the bedside table and the faint glow of the hearth fire. The windows were shuttered against the night air, and the scent of medicinal herbs hung thick in the air: poultices and tinctures and the smell of boiling wine used to cleanse wounds. But underneath it all was the smell of blood, old and new, and the sickly-sweet undertone of a body fighting a losing battle against death.
Jacaerys lay on the bed, and the sight of him made your heart clench like a fist.
He was so still. Jacaerys, who had always been in motion, always talking, always planning, always reaching for the next thing, lay utterly motionless beneath the furs. His face was ashen, his cheeks sunken, dark circles bruising the skin beneath his eyes. His lips were cracked and dry, parted slightly, and his breathing was so shallow you had to watch his chest for a long moment to be sure it was still moving. The arrow had been removed from his shoulder and the one from his side had been cut out, the wounds stitched and bandaged. But the third arrow, the one in his neck, was still there. The maesters had cut the shaft short, leaving only a few inches protruding from the swollen, angry flesh, but they had not dared to remove the head. It was lodged against something vital, and any attempt to pull it free would tear the vessel and kill him in moments.
You stood beside the bed for a long time, just looking at him. Remembering.
You remembered the first time you had met him, when you were both children, before you understood what betrothal meant. He had been solemn and serious even then, trying so hard to be worthy of the inheritance that had fallen to him. You had thought him stuffy at first, too concerned with duty and honor to be any fun. But then he had smiled at you, a quick, surprised smile, and you had seen the boy beneath the prince, and something had shifted in your heart.
You remembered the day your dragon died. The Battle of Rook's Rest. The sky had been full of fire and screaming, and you had been on your dragon's back, trying to stay alive, trying to fight, trying to do something, anything, to help. And then Rhaenys had fallen. Meleys had plunged from the sky in a tangle of scarlet wings, and Vhagar had turned. The ancient she-dragon had fixed her terrible eyes on you, and Aemond's voice had echoed across the battlefield, shouting something you could not hear over the roar of wind and flame. He had wanted to take you, you learned later. A prize. A hostage. A trophy to hang on his wall. But your dragon had fled, faster than Vhagar could follow, and had carried you all the way back to Dragonstone before succumbing to her wounds. She had died on the beach, her great head resting on sand, her eyes fixed on you with an apology you could not bear to receive. You had held her until the light went out of her, and then you had stood and walked up to the castle and begun to plan how you would make the Greens pay.
Jace had held you that night. He had not said anything, there was nothing to say, but he had held you, and let you weep into his shoulder, and when you were finished he had kissed your forehead and told you that you were the bravest person he had ever met.
Now he was dying, and you were going to save him, no matter what it cost.
You set down the small bag you had brought with you and began to prepare. From the bag you drew a candle of black wax, a small silver knife, a bowl of beaten copper, and a roll of parchment covered in the symbols and words you had copied from the old texts. You arranged them on the floor beside the bed, your hands steady despite the trembling in your heart. Then you drew back the furs and looked at Jace's wounds.
The bandages on his shoulder and side were fresh, changed that evening by the maesters. But the wound in his neck was the one that mattered. You leaned close, examining it in the dim light. The flesh around the arrow shaft was red and swollen, hot to the touch even from inches away. The skin had begun to take on a greyish tinge at the edges, and when you inhaled carefully, you caught the faint, foul scent of corruption beginning to take hold. The maesters were right. If the arrow was not removed, the infection would spread. It would poison his blood, and he would die in fever and delirium. But if they tried to remove it, the arrowhead would tear the great vessel in his neck, and he would drown in his own blood in moments.
Unless you changed the rules.
You had studied the accounts of the Valyrian blood mages for years. You had devoured every scrap of knowledge you could find about the old sorceries, the fire magic that had raised the Freehold to its terrible glory. And you had learned that blood was the key. Blood was always the key. Blood was life, and life was power, and power, properly channeled, could reshape the world.
The ritual Tyanna of Pentos had used, or something very like it, was described in fragments throughout the texts you had found. It was not healing in the traditional sense. It was something older, darker and more profound. It was the transference of life force, the binding of spirit to flesh, the rekindling of the inner fire that kept the soul tethered to the body. The subject would not simply recover. They would be remade, their body repaired not by natural processes but by the direct application of magical will. And the cost would be paid in blood. Not Jace's blood. Yours.
You knelt beside the bed and lit the black candle. The flame burned with a strange, bluish light, and the air in the room seemed to thicken, growing heavy and still. You picked up the silver knife and positioned the copper bowl on the floor before you.
"I don't know if you can hear me," you said quietly, looking at Jace's still face. "But if you can…hold on. Just a little longer. I'm going to bring you back."
Then you set the blade against the inside of your left forearm and cut.
The pain was immediate. Blood welled up from the wound, you held your arm over the copper bowl, letting it drip down into the metal basin. The candle flame flickered, then steadied, burning brighter than before. You closed your eyes and began to speak.
The words were High Valyrian. They were harsh, full of consonants that scraped against your throat and vowels that burned on your tongue. You had practiced them for hours, mouthing them silently in your chamber, but speaking them aloud was different. They had weight. They had presence. Each syllable seemed to hang in the air, resonating with something deep beneath the world.
We ask the Lord to shine his light, and the debt of blood to be paid.
With fire and blood, the debt shall be paid.
Your blood continued to flow, more than you had expected, more than seemed safe. The copper bowl was filling, the dark liquid swirling in the candlelight, and you felt a strange pulling sensation in your chest, as if something vital was being drawn out of you along with the blood. The candle flame rose higher, no longer blue but a deep, angry red, and the shadows in the room began to move.
You reached out with your bleeding arm and pressed your hand against the wound in Jace's neck, your fingers circling the broken arrow shaft. The moment your blood touched his skin, you felt it: a connection, a bridge, a channel opening between your life and his. You could feel his weak heartbeat, fluttering against your palm like a trapped bird. You could feel the poison spreading through his veins, the infection that was eating away at his flesh. And you could feel the arrowhead, a cold sliver of metal lodged against the pulsing wall of his artery, a hairsbreadth from the arms of the Stranger.
No, you thought, and poured yourself into him.
It was like falling. Like drowning. Like being unmade and remade in the space of a single heartbeat. Your vision went white, then red, then black, and you were somewhere else, somewhere vast and dark and full of fire. You could feel Jace there, a flickering ember in the darkness, barely holding on. And you could feel something else, something vast and hungry, watching you from the shadows. The magic. The old power. It wanted what you were offering. It wanted the blood, the life, the sacrifice. It wanted you.
Take it, you said, or thought, or screamed into the void. Take whatever you need. Just give him back to me.
The darkness surged forward, and you knew nothing more.
You woke in your own bed, with sunlight streaming through the windows and the sound of shouting echoing through the corridors.
For a long, disorienting moment, you had no idea where you were or how you had gotten there. Your body felt strange, heavy and hollow at the same time, as if someone had scooped out your insides and replaced them with lead. Your left arm throbbed with a dull, persistent ache, and when you lifted it to look, you saw that someone had bandaged it. The white linen was spotted with red, but the bleeding seemed to have stopped.
The shouting grew louder. Footsteps pounded past your door. Someone was calling for the maester, and someone else was weeping, and beneath it all was a rising tide of voices, excited and frightened and disbelieving.
And then you remembered.
You sat up so fast the room spun around you. You grabbed the bedpost, steadying yourself, and swung your legs over the side of the bed. Your head pounded, your vision blurring, but you forced yourself to stand, to walk, to open the door and step out into the corridor.
A serving girl was running past, her eyes wide and her face flushed. You caught her arm.
"What's happening?" you demanded, and your voice came out rough and strange, barely recognizable as your own.
"My lady!" The girl's words tumbled over each other in her haste. "It's the prince! Prince Jacaerys! He's awake! He's awake, and the maester says his wounds are healing, and the Queen is with him now..."
You let go of her arm. She kept talking, but you were already moving, pushing past her, walking as fast as your unsteady legs would carry you toward Jace's chamber.
The corridor outside his room was crowded with people, servants and guards and minor lords, all craning their necks and whispering among themselves. They parted when they saw you, their eyes wide with surprise or curiosity or something else you didn't have the presence of mind to identify. You didn't care. You didn't care about any of it. You only cared about the door at the end of the corridor and what lay beyond it.
Daemon was leaning by the door. He saw you coming, and his expression flickered, relief and what might have been pride or might have been concern. He stepped forward to meet you.
"It worked," his voice was pitched low so only you could hear. "The maester examined him this morning. The swelling in his neck has gone down. The corruption is receding. They were able to remove the arrowhead safely an hour ago. He is weak, but he is alive, and he is awake."
You closed your eyes for a moment, swaying on your feet. The relief that flooded through you was so intense it was almost painful. "I need to see him."
"Rhaenyra is with him now. She has been there since they told her. She is…" Daemon paused, searching for the right word. "Overjoyed. She thinks it's a miracle."
"It is a miracle," you said.
Daemon's eyes met yours. "Yes," he agreed. "It is. But not the kind she thinks." He put his hand on your shoulder, steadying you. "You did well, daughter. Better than I dared to hope. But be careful with him, he hasn't quite come back to himself yet."
He opened the door, and you stepped inside.
The first thing you saw was Rhaenyra. The Queen was sitting on the edge of the bed, her silver-gold hair unbound and disheveled, her face wet with tears. She was holding Jace's hand in both of hers, and she was speaking to him in a low, urgent voice, her words tumbling out too fast to follow. She looked exhausted, wrung out, the way a person looks when they have been holding themselves together for so long that the relief of letting go is almost as painful as the fear.
And then you saw Jace.
He was sitting up against the pillows, his dark hair brushed back from his face, his eyes open and alert. The bandage on his neck was fresh and white, and his color was better than it had been in days, still pale, but no longer grey, no longer the ashen hue of a corpse waiting to happen. He was thinner than before, the bones of his face more prominent, but he was alive. He was alive.
He looked up when you entered, your eyes met, and you felt as though your heart would burst.
"Jace," you breathed.
His expression shifted. For a moment, he looked almost confused, as if he didn't quite recognize you. Then his face cleared, and he smiled, a small, tired smile, but a real one, and held out his free hand to you.
"There you are," he said. His voice was hoarse, rough from disuse, but it was his voice. "I was wondering when you would come."
You crossed the room without thinking, barely aware of Rhaenyra moving aside to make space for you. You took his hand, his fingers closed around yours, and he was warm. He was warm. You had been so afraid that he would be cold, that the ritual would have taken something essential from him, that he would be a shell wearing Jace's face. But his hand was warm, and his pulse beat steady in his wrist.
Except.
Except there was something different in his eyes. A gleam. A light that hadn't been there before. When he looked at you, you felt the weight of his attention, focused and intense. There was none of the softness you remembered, none of the gentle uncertainty that had always lurked beneath his princely composure. This was a Jacaerys who had looked into the darkness and come back with something of it still burning behind his eyes.
"Your Grace," you said to Rhaenyra, remembering your courtesies even as your heart hammered against your ribs. "I came as soon as I heard."
"He's going to be all right," Rhaenyra said, and her voice broke on the words. "The maester says he's going to be all right. I don't understand it. None of them understand it. But I don't care. My son is alive." She pressed a hand to her mouth, tears spilling down her cheeks again. "I'm so relieved. I thought I'd lost you. I thought I'd lost both of you."
She meant Luke, you realized. Lucerys, who had died at Storm's End, whose death had started the cascade of violence that had led here. Rhaenyra had lost one son already. She could not bear to lose another.
Jace's expression softened. "I'm here," he said. "I'm not going anywhere. But if I could speak with my betrothed now. Alone, if you don't mind."
Rhaenyra hesitated, looking between the two of you. Then she nodded, pressing a kiss to Jace's forehead before rising from the bed. "I'll be just outside," she said. "I'll send for some broth. You need to eat. You need to regain your strength."
She left the room, and the door closed behind her with a soft click. You and Jace were alone.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. You were still holding his hand, and he was still looking at you with that strange, intense gaze, and you didn't know what to say. What did you say to someone you had pulled back from the edge of death? What did you say to someone who might owe their life to a ritual you barely understood and a power you had no right to wield?
"You did something," Jace said at last.
You opened your mouth to deny it, but the words wouldn't come. His eyes were too sharp, too knowing. He could see right through you.
"Yes," you said quietly. "I did."
"What did you do?"
You told him everything. You were too tired to lie and too frightened to hold it in, and because he deserved to know what had been done to him.
When you finished, he was silent for a long moment. Then he reached up with his free hand and touched the bandage on his neck, his fingers tracing the edge of it with a strange, detached curiosity.
"I died," he said. "Didn't I?"
"No," you denied quickly. "No, you were still alive. The maesters said..."
"The maesters said I was going to die. They said there was nothing they could do." His eyes met yours again. "I remember the water. The cold. I remember Vermax screaming. And then…nothing. Darkness. Just darkness, for a long time. And then something else. Something pulling me back. It felt like fire. Like dragonfire, but inside me. In my blood. In my bones." He paused. "Was that you?"
You swallowed hard. "I don't know. I don't know what I did. The texts said the ritual could transfer life force, could bind spirit to flesh, could rekindle the inner fire. But they didn't say how. They didn't say what the cost would be. I just…I couldn't let you die. I couldn't. Not when there was something I could try."
Jace looked at you for a long moment. Then he pulled you toward him, and before you knew what was happening, his arms were around you and your face was pressed against his shoulder and he was holding you so tightly you could barely breathe.
"You foolish, brave, tricky woman," he murmured into your hair. "You could have died. You could have killed yourself. For me."
"There was no choice," you said, your voice muffled against his chest. "There was never a choice. Don't you understand? Without you, there's no point. There's no point to any of it."
You felt him exhale a shaky breath. His hand came up to stroke your hair, gentle despite the new strength you could feel in his grip. "I understand," he said. "I understand better than you know."
You pulled back slightly, looking up at him. Your eyes were wet, you realized. You had been crying without noticing it. He reached up and wiped the tears from your cheeks with his thumb, his touch warm and achingly familiar.
"When I was pulled from the darkness," he whispered, "I dreamed. I dreamed of fire and blood and a throne made of swords. I dreamed of our enemies burning. I dreamed of Aemond Targaryen dying in the mud, with my hands around his throat. I dreamed of victory, absolute and total, with no mercy and no quarter and no hesitation. I dreamed of everything I was too weak to do before." His voice hardened, and that gleam in his eyes grew brighter, more dangerous. "I'm not weak anymore."
You stared at him. There was something new and terrible and fierce in his voice. The boy you had known was still there, but there was something else now, something that had been forged in the darkness and brought back with him into the light.
"The Greens took my brother," Jace said. "They took my dragon. They took my birthright. They tried to take my life. They tried to take you." His hands tightened on your arms. "They will fail. They will all fail. I am going to recover from this. I am going to get out of this bed, and I am going to be there when my mother takes King's Landing. And then I am going to find Aemond Targaryen, and I am going to make him pay for every drop of blood he has spilled."
"Jace," you said, and you didn't know if it was a warning or a plea or a prayer.
"When I woke up," he continued, as if you hadn't spoken, "I felt different. I feel…more. More alive, more aware. Better, altogether." He laughed without humour. "I feel like someone lit a fire inside me and it's never going to go out. Is that what you did to me? Is that what the magic made me?"
"I don't know," you whispered. "I didn't know what it would do. The texts said…"
"The texts said Maegor came back changed. Crueler. Stronger. Unstoppable." Jace's eyes met yours. "Maybe that's what I am now. Maybe that's what you made me."
"No. You're not Maegor. You're not cruel. You're not..."
"I'm not what I was before." He said it calmly, as if stating a simple fact. "I can feel it. The part of me that hesitated, that second-guessed, that worried about being good enough, worthy enough, it's gone. Burned away. All that's left is the fire." He cupped your face in his hands, his palms were warm against your cheeks. "But I'm still me. I'm still yours. That hasn't changed. That will never change."
He kissed you. It was not like the gentle, tentative kisses you had shared before. It was fierce, demanding, full of that new fire, and you found yourself responding to it despite your fear, despite your uncertainty. His lips were warm, his hands were strong, and he was alive. He was alive, and that was all that mattered.
When he pulled back, his eyes were still burning with that strange, fierce light. "You brought me back," he said. "You gave me a second chance. I'm not going to waste it. I'm going to win this war. I'm going to put my mother on the Iron Throne. I'm going to marry you, and we are going to build a dynasty that will last a thousand years." He smiled, and it was a crazed and beautiful thing. "I swear to you."
You looked at him. Your betrothed, your prince, the boy you had loved since before you understood what love was, and saw the man he had become. The fire in his eyes. The steel in his voice. The fury and the purpose and the unshakeable certainty. The old texts had warned that those brought back by blood magic were never quite the same. They came back changed. They came back wrong. But looking at him now, you couldn't bring yourself to believe it.
He wasn't wrong. He was more.
"Rest now," you said, pressing him back against the pillows. "Regain your strength. The war will still be there when you're healed."
He caught your wrist, his strong grip still surprised you. "Stay," he said. "Stay with me."
"I'm not going anywhere," you promised.
You stayed by his side as the days passed, watching as his strength returned with unnatural speed. The maesters marveled at his recovery, calling it a miracle, a blessing from the Seven, the indomitable will of the dragon blood. They didn't know. They couldn't know. Only you and Daemon knew the truth, and you kept it locked away in your hearts, a secret that bound you together in shared complicity.
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I specifically avoid blogs where I see their inbox in tags more than I see their fics…
no hate to anyone! Please don’t take this as me hating on you or saying you should not respond to your inbox, you should! Just don’t do it in the ‘x reader’ (smut/fluff/angst) tag!
I acknowledge that this is hypocritical, as I’m using the tags im asking people not to use in posts that aren’t a fic - but I’m using them ONCE, to spread some awareness of me asking this, to the tags, some people may agree with me and agree it’s annoying and some may not.
Either way, this is ONE post, I won’t tag them again, so you can go back to browsing for things to read :)
Why do toxic fanfics keep popping up on my fyp, like no I don't want Gojo cheating on me, fucking me as an apology and me actually FORGIVING him???. I need a man who is OBSESSED with me and wouldn't even think of looking at another woman. The only fanfics that truly still my hunger are yander fics.
below is a list of fics for the found family au series;
✩.* you've corrupted her } garrett graham x fem!reader
in which dean misunderstands a conversation between sabrina and tucker, leading to an entirely unsolicited birds and the bees talk, before later discovering that y/n is far less innocent than he originally believed - much to garrett’s amusement.
✩.* sunset skies } garrett graham x fem!reader
in which allie, y/n, sabrina and grace chase a sunset from the hockey house roof, only to end up stranded while the boys swing wildly between panic, frustration, and overwhelming relief trying to get them down safely.
✩.* fill in the gaps } dean di laurentis x fem!reader
in which dean is always the one quietly stepping in whenever garrett can’t, filling the gaps with a kind of friendship that feels safe without ever asking for recognition.
BABE AND RAPTURE: A DARK(ish) JACK ABBOT X READER SERIES
➥ You're living with your doctor after he offered you a place to stay, and despite the HR nightmare that is letting your much younger, financially struggling pregnant patient live with you, things are great! You're so thankful to Dr. Abbot for helping you get back on your feet...and you'll stay that way when you can't realize that it's only a matter of time before you can't leave him.
THIS SERIES IS SOMEWHAT NON-CHRONOLOGICAL
the thought post that started it all.
TAGS: obsession, manipulation, eventual smut and all warnings will differ with each oncoming blurb or chapter, but I can guess there will be unprotected sex, rough sex, breeding kink, insanely toxic power dynamics, you're literally pregnant and broke and jack's needing you enough to take advantage of that. technically stalking, pregnancy fetish but be flattered because jack didn't have it before you entered his life, he watches pregnancy porn of ladies that look wayyyy too much like you. financial manipulation, co-dependency in all forms. somebody get HR and maybe the police because what jack has with you isn't allowed. jack may or may not think he is now the father to your baby.
・。PART ONE: BABY GATE || Dr. Abbot is a nice man. You can't thank him enough. But you catch him making his house more…permanent for you and your baby on the way, as if you’ll still be here when she comes. As if you’ll be here for a long time. He just likes being prepared, you think.
・。 PART 1.5: NOTHING TRUER THAN FACEBOOK || Dr. Abbot takes to Facebook to prove to you that you should stay home. With him. Not that it’s your house.
・。 PART TWO: YOUNG, SINGLE MOM TO BE (COMING SOON) || You, a single and struggling mother-to-be, find yourself at the Pitt after a collapse at the bus stop. It isn't so bad, you meet a handsome, older doctor who seems very dedicated to helping you. And in your struggles...and growing attachment to him, you can ignore the red flags (professional and otherwise) when he offers you a place to stay.
MISC CONTENT
✫ (buying doctor-themed onesies...) ✫ (he definitely stands outside her door...) ✫ (no one wants to fuck a pregnant woman more than jack wants to fuck you) ✫ (sleepy in labor) ✫ (more of "dad" jack's delusions) ✫
☄︎ Warnings: each chapter will have their own but overall - Angst (love hurts!), slow burn (ish), fluff, reader being blind af, i don't have a proofreader, idk my tenses so i flip flop
☄︎ Pairing: f!Reader x John Logan, f!Reader x Dean Di Laurentis
☄︎ Rating: PG - 18+ (these chapters will be noted so can be skipped)
☄︎ AN: This was born from this post. I saw it and my mind immediately started racing. The respose to the first one posted was amazing, so I've turned this into a series. Thank you so soo much for all the wonderful comments and engagement.
