#But despite the fact that I was bracing for it

[prythianpages]

Just A Fool | Eris x Reader

Eris x Reader x Azriel | Eris has a meeting with the Night Court's astrologer but when he enters the observatory he finds you instead. He's captivated by you and can't bring himself to understand why...until the bond snaps.

warnings: reader being delulu, mild angst (I think)

word count: 2,667

a/n: Surprise, surprise, I simply can't write one-shots! Though this can be read as a stand alone fic, it is based off of this one and takes place before. Azriel is not in this part himself but he is mentioned. Since this is in Eris's pov, I wrote it it in third person to make it easier.

Eris stepped into the observatory, the door gliding open with a quiet hiss. The room was large and spacious, his boots echoing against the smooth, polished floors.  Despite himself, he begrudgingly admitted that the Night Court’s observatory was a masterpiece. 

A dome of crystalline glass stretched above, revealing all the beauty the Night Court’s sky had to behold. Constellations glimmered and moonlight filtered through the room, casting a silver glow over the telescopes, charts and shelves lined with celestial tomes.

But it wasn’t the architecture that made his breath hitch and muscles tense.

A female sat curled on a velvet loveseat, her knees drawn up, and a journal braced against them as she wrote. Her head was bent in concentration, her hair falling like a curtain of shadow around her face. She hadn’t noticed him yet, and Eris let her ignorance linger. He watched her silently, taking in every detail he could for a moment longer, unaware of the weight of fate looming over his shoulder.

The dark purple dress she wore was simple yet elegant and the opal pendant that hung around her neck twinkled like starlight against her skin. Eris was certain she was not part of Rhysand’s inner circle—he would have known if she were. And to his knowledge, Keir had no other daughter aside from Mor. 

Yet, the ease with which she carried herself in the room, it was as though she belonged there. She must come from a noble family but even then, the question as to why she was here still remained. Especially when he had a meeting with the Night Court’s astrologer. Had this female dared to sneak into the observatory? And how had she not heard his footsteps?

Foolish. Reckless.

And yet, Eris couldn’t deny the curiosity that tugged at him as he took a step closer, something foreign beginning to simmer in his chest.

When the door finally clicked shut, however, she flinched, her head snapping up. Wide eyes locked onto his, and the centuries of practiced composure could not hold him back, his body jerking upright. They stared at one another, the silence between them taut as a bowstring.

Her journal slipped from her lap, landing with a thud as she stood hastily. A flicker of panic crossed her face that was quickly replaced by a guarded expression. It was then that he concluded she had, in fact, dared to sneak in here. 

Eris noted the slight flush on her cheeks and the way her fingers twitched. It was as if she were resisting the urge to snatch up the fallen book in fear of turning her eyes away from him. 

He moved forward, each step deliberate, the measured thud of his boots filling the space between them. His amber eyes roamed her, unhurried. His lips curved faintly, a teasing spark lighting his gaze.

“Well, I was expecting someone much taller, older, and wiser...”

The female stiffened, her gaze darting to the journal on the floor, then back to him. Eris caught the motion.  “What? Cat’s got your tongue?”

Her jaw tightened, but her voice was steady when she finally spoke. “If it is Lord Damus you seek, that is my father. He should be here shortly. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right out of your way…”

She stepped toward the journal, her intention clear. But Eris was faster and intent on keeping her with him for longer. A flick of his wrist and the journal flew to his hand, carried by a golden thread of flame. He thumbed the worn cover, glancing down at it with mock intrigue.

“A diary?” he teased, a laugh dancing on his lips as his eyes flicked to hers. “What are you, a child?”

“Give that back,” she snapped, fire sparking in her eyes as she took a step closer.

Eris arched a brow, surprised by the boldness in her tone. The spark in her gaze sent a thrill through him, a pull he couldn’t quite place. He wasn’t one to concern himself with trivialities like this, and yet…

“No,” he replied simply, effortlessly stepping away from her poor attempt to reach him. 

When she tried again, he lifted his hand, a flicker of flames dancing at his fingertips in warning.  “What secrets could a Night Court female like you possibly be hiding in here? Some scandalous account of a rival’s terrible choice in gowns? Or some torrid tale of unrequited love among the court?”

His gaze dropped to the page she had left open. He should’ve let her leave. The meeting with her father was much more important than reading her diary but he was now curious about her. And even more curious to know what she had been so entranced by, enough to have not noticed his entrance.

 Eris’s eyes scanned the elegant script, and his smirk deepened.  “‘I love everything about him. Not in the way of soft, fleeting things, but in the way stars burn eternal. Steady and unwavering.”

He paused to glance at her. Her cheeks were flushed now but her eyes didn’t waver. There was a defiance in her gaze, even as her lips pressed into a tight line.

Eris’s attention returned to the page, a strange tightening in his chest. He hadn’t expected such emotion from her words and though he couldn’t understand why, it seemed to unsettle him.

 “I love the way his eyes, the warmest shade of hazel, hold my heart every time he looks at me, the way his gaze softens. Or the way his shadows linger just a heartbeat longer around me. I wonder if they whisper my name when I’m not near…”

And then he saw it.

A name. Scribbled in a flourish of ink beside what he assumed was hers and framed by a heart. His chest tightened further, this time with something sharper, darker. He knew that name. All too well.

The flame at his fingertips extinguished as his hand fell to his side. He turned to her, his amber eyes blazing, his jaw set.

It should have been trivial. He had hoped for something inconsequential, a petty grievance or a noblewoman’s idle musings. Anything that he could dismiss with a smirk and leave behind without a second thought. Anything–anyone– but him.

Instead, her words tugged at something buried. A tether that always seemed to lead back to that wretched shadowsinger. That damned Illyrian who haunted his thoughts more often than he cared to admit. 

Eris didn’t understand it and was unsure he wanted to. He was unsure if he even wanted to understand the female before him but he couldn’t bring himself to turn away from her.

So he allowed his disbelief to take over and settled on what he was familiar with.

“What a pity,” Eris said, his voice quieter but no less cutting. “That someone like you would stoop so low and waste such beautiful words on a bastard like him.”

“You don’t know anything about him,” she replied briskly and then as an afterthought, added, “or me.” 

Eris laughed, the sound sharp and incredulous. “Don’t I?” He said, waving the leather journal tauntingly. The reaction she gave was almost amusing—almost. It wasn’t the insult he’d thrown at her that provoked such defensiveness, but the one aimed at him. Her precious shadowsinger.

“I think I’ve learned plenty. Enough to know you are a delusional fool. Or perhaps…”

He stepped forward leisurely, his hands crossing behind his back, like a predator savoring the chase. For every step he took towards her, she took a step back, her breath catching in her throat. He tilted his head, the amused smirk never leaving his face. He took note of the way she tried to steady her breathing. And though he thought her a fool, at least she wasn’t foolish enough to pretend she didn’t feel it. The power humming in the air around him, coiling like fire beneath his skin.

The floor illuminated beneath her weight as she stepped into the massive zodiac wheel etched onto the floor. Eris continued until he had her trapped, her back pressed against the small table in the center of the room that held up a glowing, golden globe. He was on her then, close enough that the heat of him seemed to reach out and curl around her. 

She stiffened as he leaned in and then, as if it were his right, he reached out and tilted her chin up with two fingers, forcing her gaze to meet his. His amber eyes swept over her face, mockingly intent.

But when his eyes met hers, the simmering in his chest flared, growing hotter with each passing heartbeat. He brushed it aside, too caught up in the thrill of provoking her to give it any real thought.

“Perhaps, you’re unwell?” he asked, his voice dripping with condescension. “You must’ve taken a fall recently, or been struck on the head as a child? I can’t imagine any other explanation for…” 

His voice had trailed off. Now that he was up close, her scent of night blooming flowers–phlox– and amber teased at his senses. It wanted to wrap around him, lure him in. He released his hold on her, reigning in the flare of heat that surged through him. He masked the effect she had on him with a lazy wave of his hand toward the journal he still held. “…this.”

Her brows furrowed, her glare sharp enough to cut. She snatched her journal back from him with such fury he had to bite back a laugh. “I am perfectly well.”

Eris gave a grimace of resigned disbelief. “Just a fool then.”

“Tell me,” he continued, voice rich with feigned curiosity, “does he truly look your way? Or are you merely another shadow to him? Rumor has it he’s quite taken with a certain lovely, cauldron-turned fae... Oh, forgive me, my lady, did I strike a nerve?”

Her knuckles whitened as she clutched the journal tightly to her chest, shielding it as if it could protect her from the sting of his words. But there was fire in her eyes that only intrigued him further. 

“He’ll soon realize that she’s not the one for him.”

“Will he? And what makes you so certain? Do you think yourself his destiny? If that’s the case, then I have quite the–”

“Crushes come and go but love stays,” she interrupted him, voice firm. She then looked up towards the domed ceiling. Her voice softened, a wistfulness creeping into her words. “And the stars and the planets, they never lie.”

The floor glowed brighter, the engraved markings on the zodiac wheel shifting with a series of clicks. From the center, a galaxy unfurled, its planets and constellations rising and floating into the air. They remained suspended in a tentative dance, awaiting an order.

An inexplicable flutter tore through his chest as he watched her expression ease at the sight above, a tender gleam in her eyes.

“It’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To see where the planets align for you. To discover if the stars favor your path, if there’s any certainty to be found. To gather hope and dare to dream.”

Eris’s smirk faltered for a split second, his amber eyes narrowing. He quickly masked the slight discomfort, his expression returning to one of controlled indifference. “It sounds like you’re stuck in a dream yourself. One that will be harsh to wake up from.”

But his sharp words didn’t land as he expected. She didn’t flinch or glare back at him. Instead, she smiled at him. A smile that was so sure, so knowing. It truly made him question her sanity.

“Azriel may hold affection for her now, but he’ll love me. One day, he’ll see it. Just as clearly as I do.”

Eris could only stare at her. The certainty in her words, the unwavering belief in some twisted fate. It was maddening. She was maddening. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to continue to laugh at her naivety or… believe her.

Because she was right. He had come to Lord Damus for guidance. In a world as precarious as his, he yearned for a semblance of certainty. He wanted to hope, wanted to dream. Something to cling on to, to help him carry the weight of his burdens.

Her words lingered in the air between them, heavy and determined.

And then, as if the universe itself had conspired to provoke him further, it happened.

The world seemed to tilt beneath his feet. The edges of the room blurred, melting into golden and white light.  All he could see was her. The female whose eyes reflected the endless stars above, whose words burned like a flame deep in his chest. 

That simmering sensation in his chest flared again, too scorching to ignore any longer. The fire coursing through his veins roared to life, surging toward her as if recognizing its other half. His other half.

Mate.

The female standing before him, all defying words and starry wit, was his.

And she was in love with someone else.

“Cauldron above,” he cursed, his voice a low murmur. He took a step back, still reeling but forcing his composure to hold.

The sound of the door to the observatory opening snapped him out of his trance. He quickly distanced himself, needing space to regain full control.

“Lord Eris, forgive me if you’ve been waiting–what are you doing here?”

“Oh,” the female–his mate–breathed and he could feel the way her heart quickened. “I was just dusting off the shelves here, father.”

Lord Damus approached a shelf, dragging his finger along the surface. His gaze narrowed, as if sensing dust. The faintest glimmer of energy rippled in the air, imperceptible to most, but Eris saw it settle. It was, after all, his magic.

When Lord Damus raised his finger to inspect it, there was not a speck to be found. A thoughtful hum escaped him, and Eris felt her relax, even if only slightly.

“You may leave now.” Lord Damus said to her, dismissing her as if she were a servant and not his daughter.

“Yes, father.” She politely replied, bowing her head toward him before reluctantly turning to Eris. She hastily did the same, her eyes briefly meeting his once more before she hurried out of the room.

Eris watched her leave, fighting the threat of emotions swirling him. It wasn’t until the door finally clicked shut that he exhaled. As if some weight had been lifted. Though, it didn’t feel any lighter.

“Please, have a seat.” Lord Damus's voice interrupted, pulling Eris from his thoughts.

The Night Court astrologer gestured for Eris to take a seat where she had been previously sitting. But Eris couldn’t bring himself to move. He couldn’t sit there, knowing her scent still lingered.

“Forgive me, Lord Damus, but I need to reschedule.”

“But you’ve come all this way already…,” Lord Damus’s brows furrowed. “Did my daughter say something to you? Allow me to apologize on her behalf. She can be quite unnerving–that one.”

“No, not at all.” Eris lied smoothly. He lifted his hand, and a small note appeared, perched between his fingers. Flames erupted from the edges, quickly eating away at the note until it was reduced to ashes in his palm. “Something has suddenly come up in my court that requires immediate attention.”

Lord Damus considered this, his eyes narrowing as if contemplating the words. Finally, he gave a short nod. “Very well, then. We can reschedule for another time.”

Eris didn’t wait for another word. In the blink of an eye, he was gone. He winnowed directly to his room. Only then did he let his mask slip. Images of her flooded his mind and he braced himself against his bed post with one hand. His other hand clutched at his chest where the emotions were scorching, the fire there forging the threads of fate.

He lifted his gaze, his eyes landing on his own reflection. Eris had called her–his mate–a fool. Yet, as he stood before himself, he realized a bitter truth...

He was the greatest fool of all.

[series masterlist]

A/n: the next part in this au will be some fluff between Az & you 🫶🏽 that takes place after Hopelessly Devoted.

series tag list: @kaitttttttt , @nebarious , @daughterofthemoons-stuff , @justyouraveragekleemain , @tothestarsandwhateverend ,

@ratgirl2020 , @myromanempiree , @vanserrasimp , @itsswritten , @acourtofbatboydreams

@imjustagirl713, @paleidiot, @scarsandallaz

if you asked to be put on the tag-list and don't see your username, please remind me!

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444 @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits15, @lorosette

@alwayshave-faith

[mr-ys-phantasma]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2074

Finale I - part 2/3 (Agatha X Reader X Rio ending):

As the fight continued, you could only watch; eyes getting misty at the sight. You did not want to see anyone getting hurt, especially Agatha, who so stubbornly kept fighting.

You gasped weakly when you saw one of Rio's attacks sending her back. The feeling in your stomach got worse when you saw Agatha spitting out blood as she stubbornly stood up, not giving Rio the satisfaction of defeat.

Deep breaths only caused you more pain, but you had to, as you tried to gather all of your mental strength to remain in control. Your hand was firmly placed against the wound, your white magic trying to heal you but failing to do so; the dagger far more powerful than anyone expected.

Seeing Rio and Agatha fighting made your heart beat painfully, each beat causing more aches within. You hatd seeing them at each other's necks when you knew deep down, they still had feelings for one another... and you had for them.

They did not deserve to hate each other until the end of time or fight until one of them was about to die; in this case, Agatha.

You slowly started to stand up, adrenaline the only thing helping as your legs felt weak; the shock of the attack still affecting your body but not your mind, since the safety of your lovers was far more powerful.

Your grip on Billy's arm tightened, using him as an extra support to get and remain up; for the last thing you needed was to fall.

"What are you doing?" Billy asked, looking at you in surprise. He stood up fast, ready to catch you in case you fell back but also, passively wishing to stop you from doing anything reckless. "You should be healing."

You took a moment to answer, each breathe causing you pain. "I can't. It's Rio's knife," you answered vaguely.

Your hand went to the handle, and you braced yourself before pulling the dagger in one quick move. The action made you gasp, hands shaking as you dropped the knife.

You brought your dominant hand on your chest, white magic coming alive beneath your finger. You tried your best to hold the bleeding, reduce it, and stop yourself from dying on the spot.

It worked faintly, but the blood kept coming out, no longer the dagger existing to block it and keep you alive.

You felt the familiar warmth of fresh blood coming from an open wound, but it did not phase you. You had your plan in mid, and that was the only thing you cared about.

Billy looked at you, a continuous support while he tried hard not to look at your bleeding wound. "What do you mean? You will die if you try to move." He argued, hoping somehow he could ensure you would not die on him.

Honestly, he could not bear losing you too; especially in such an unfair and unjust way. You of all witches deserved to survive and live, not fall victim to centuries old fuel between Agatha and Rio.

You offered him a weak smile. "Even my powers have limits, and so does my time here."

He had no words to argue, seeing you so determined despite the fact you were about to die. All he could do was to ensure you were okay as you took the first step forward; eyes always locked on the two lovers locked into this heated, never-ending battle.

You started slowly walking toward Rio and Agatha, not caring about the risk that their wild energy would and could hit you.

Your time, like you had told Billy, was limited. You didn't have a lot of time to act, and every second paasing was vital.

Each step felt heavier than the one before it. Each breath was laboured and brought up pain. The bleeding was not stopping, you're magic was not capable of helping you somehow heal while you were pushing your body to its limits.

Rio and Agatha did not take notice of you approaching until it was too late. Green and purple magic had come alive in their hands, but both froze when they spotted you.

This thing, perhaps, was your only chance to actually interfere, and you took it by the horns.

You let go of your world and focused all the magic you could gather in your hands. You could feel how quickly it was draining you, siphoning all of your energy and power.

Yet, you kept going, and when you felt it was enough; you stopped holding back..

Your white magic exploded all around you, forming a powerful sphere of white energy. It not only lifted wind, dust, and debris but also sent the two lovers on their backs; effectively stopping them from attacking one another.

Congratulations, you had managed to stop them both from trying to kill one another. However, at what cost?

A strong cough escaped you, blood staining your hand that had subconsciously moved in front of your lips. Your powers started giving up on you, and you had to bend one knee to try and save yourself from a nasty fall.

"Y/N!" Billy called your name in worry, so close in rushing to you.

Seeing you this weak and pale, worried both Rio and Agatha; who stood up and were recovering from your spontaneous blast.

Rio was the first to speak. "Get back, Y/N!" She shouted, seeing you trying hard to remain in the middle.

Agatha joined right after. Rio's words snapped her from the initial shock. "Get away from her!"

Their words started to tire you, your patience running quite thin since you were so close to bleeding out to death. You were tired, you were wounded and most likely about to die...

So you would not spend your last moments watching them fight and argue.

You managed to stand on your legs again, though you were unsure for how long you would manage.

"I swear I will keep blasting you until you both stop!" You snapped at them and brought your hand to wipe the blood from the edges of your mouth. Your other hand was still pressed against your wound, though to no avail; blood staining your hand and dress with no intention of stopping. "I don't care what happened between the two of you in the past... I don't care how Little Nicky got involved..." You took in a pained breath. "But I refuse to let you kill each other, over such stupid past and grudge.

And with those words, you could no longer remain standing. Your legs buckled in, knees supporting all your weight as they were forced on the rough ground.

The white in your eyes disappeared, your trusty powers abandoning you faster after the outburst.

Agatha and Rio acted on pure instinct, dropping everything they did and thought as they rushed towards you. They knelt by each side of you, arms spreading to hug and hold you; preventing you from falling forward.

Their presence was comforting to you as you felt yourself getting weaker. With the last bit of your strength, you brought your hands around each of their necks and pulled them closer to you.

"You two better make amends, or I swear... I will come back and haunt you both, " you joked weakly.

You could tell the ending was close, but this time, you were not afraid. You welcomed it, knowing you were in the arms of the two women you loved.

Rio and Agatha did not seem to take your words lightly, and both hugged you tightly. Agatha was the one failing to hide back her tears, her bottom lip faintly trembling.

Rio was better at being in control, perhaps because it was her you would see soon as she took your soul to the next plane. Yet the fact remained that she was not fully okay with you dying, so stupidly none the less.

As Rio and Agatha kept you closer; their hands met behind your back. In a silent moment of common grief and support, they let their fingers interlock.

"You stupid naive girl," Rio said, inhaling your scent as she buried her face into your shoulder.

Agatha hesitated to speak, afraid her voice would crack. "Sugar..." she whispered.

The whole sight brought tears into Billy's eyes, leaving him standing there as you slowly accepted death, and so did your lovers.

You closed your eyes, a few tears escaping as you held them close; feeling them together once again. Your feelings for both went crazy and you wished to kiss them one last time, but you feared you would collapse if you let them go.

As you three remain there, hugging one another; your breaths started to sync, your hearts beating as one as the faint light of the moon was casted on you.

Suddenly, your white magic started to come alive beneath your fingers, starting faint but slowly growing in intensity. The same seemed to happen to Rio and Agatha, one magic influencing the other; bringing it to life without the consent of their casters.

At first, it was so faint that no one noticed, but then this new feelings started to be shared within the three of you. This new combined power started to surge through their bodies and yours, a sweeter and more favourable wind picking up.

Your eyes opened wide as you felt your chest wound burning, and only then did you notice the show of colours taking place all around you.

Rio's green and black magic was alive, wrapping around the three of you, but it was not alone. Agatha's purple had joined into the mix, along with your white one; creating beautiful harmonised combinations as they kept moving around you like live creatures with a life of their own.

Once your fellow witches took notice, they gasped and pulled back; with you copying them.

Colour had returned to your once pale cheeks, eyes glowing with life. Your wound was covered by a mixture of this triple magic, quickly stopping the bleeding and sticking up.

"The wound..." Agatha exclaimed, being the first to notice it.

Rio notices it too, but there is obvious confusion on her face. You were literally with one leg over and now... you were glowing with life, your magic returning and boosting you stronger than ever before.

Then, the answer came, and it all clicked into place. "The power of the three." she looked at Agatha, a smirk of victory on her lips. "I told you she could be part of it."

Once again, you were confused on the topic of discussion; clearly, I had missed quite a few things that you needed in order to catch up.

Agatha always found you rather adorable when you had that innocent and confused expression on your face.

She cupped your cheek gently. "I will explain later, sugar."

With their help, you slowly got up; feeling better than before, but you could go for a long nap.

As you turned to face Billy, you almost got tackled by him as he rushed to hug you. He truly thought he had lost you for a moment, and now here you stand, all healthy and healed.

"How is this possible? Thought you couldn't heal the wound," he said and pulled back, looking at you for answers.

You could not help but smile. "Alone, I couldn't. Together, we could."

Agatha chose to help enlighten the poor boy who had yet so much to learn. "The power of the three. Three witches magically bonded like no other, it enchants and boosts each other's powers."

Billy nodded and looked at Agatha, and then he dared to look at Rio. "So what now?"

It was your turn to look at Rio, holding her and in yours. "Please, let's end this." Rio hesitated to answer, evident in her dark eyes. "Come on, Rio. We will all die sooner or later. Why must you take us now? "

Rio remained silent for a moment, clearly debating the topic in her mind. In the end, she let out a small sigh of defeat.

"Very well," she agreed and lifted a single digit. "One life," she emphasised. "No more cheating death, no more body jumping."

Billy and Agatha did not have to be told twice to nod their heads, more than happy to leave with their lives.

Agatha looked at Rio and offered a sweet smile. "Thank you, my love."

Part 3 (smutt)

[thelostgirl21]

We are screwed...

We are so, SO screwed...

In Canada, the next prime minister candidate that currently has the most support to become our next leader is the Conservative party leader Pierre Pollièvre...

He is a man that keeps referring to Canada as the "Country of Freedom" (what?!?!? Since when do Canadians go "Freeeeedom!" The fuck?!?!?!) while adopting a very American rhetoric, was against expanding the definition of "marriage" to same-gender couples (though claimed that they should be offered the same "rights", just not the same "definition" nor recognition), argued that "Justin Trudeau should not have the right to impose his gender radical ideologies on kids and schools", etc.

While far from a perfect leader, Justin Trudeau has always stood rather firm on gender equality and been very open and vocal in his support of LGBTQ+ people.

During Trump's first mandate, Canada and the USA were at odds with each other on social issues, and the Liberal Party (left) provided a certain "buffer" to help temper Trump's (right) influence on the rest of North America.

There's often been this odd balance between Canada and the USA. When we had Stephen Harper (right) as prime minister, Obama (considered to be on the left in the USA) was president.

So, as a Canadian, I was desperately hoping that Harris would win, so perhaps it would temper the devastating influence that Pollièvre would continue to have on Canadians when (because I don't even think it's an "if" anymore) he'll be elected as prime minister.

But with Pollièvre's determination to keep taking on a populist approach, where he's been gleefully riding people's fears and paranoia about "wokism" and "the attack on parental rights" and the "slow erosion of traditional family models and values in Canada" to the top...

Where he keeps being kicked out of the House of Commons and building himself this image of a "strong, opinionated no-nonsense leader" that wants to "bring Canada back to its former glory" (whatever that was) and "stick it to the big guys" and their radical ideologies...

Let's say that it doesn't exactly look good, especially not for our transgender and non-binary brothers, sisters, and siblings...

Harris / Pollièvre? Not fun, but would have sent a message of hope that fascism wasn't as horrifyingly on the rise as it is in society right now.

Trump / Pollièvre? This is a nightmare scenario. This is what the far-right needs to believe the people are finally ready to stand with them against their enemy - those "godless degenerates" that seek to destroy the very fabric of their beloved society, and are trying to replace/erase them by daring to exist!

We will endure and continue to support and fight for each other, regardless of who is in charge.

But JFC! This is so heartbreaking, and as optimistic as I'm trying to be, I can't help but see some very dark times ahead.

[ichayalovesyou]

Calling it now, Kirk is gonna try (and maybe even succeed) flirting or even hooking up with La’an next episode.

[sharkkweak]

Carpal tunnel you’re such a bitch

[meowmeowmessi]

also it's so funny that they bring up the bayern match and how mbappe coming on changed the tempo of the game or whatever while messi was "ghosting" like ok so are you ready to talk about how mbappe ghosted for 80 minutes straight in the fucking wc final or??

[incognit0slut]

Angel

PART 5 OF KINKTOBER | MAIN MASTERLIST

Single Dad!Spencer x Nanny!Reader Spencer likes having you around to look after his daughter, in fact, he likes you a bit too much.

content: (18+) 5.4k, breeding kink, fingering, fem oral, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, overstimulation, d/s dynamic but he still tries to be a gentleman although reader doesn’t want him to, mutual pining, body worship with slight religious metaphors bc he’s down so bad, and of course sweet aftercare a/n: 1) i know the gif isn’t spencer but i just had to; 2) i changed the title from the original plan bc i was listening to angel baby while writing this; 3) if i have the chance to describe his happy trail and tummy i will in a heartbeat; 4) this fic is basically the epitome of D-I-L-F!

“I want you to understand,” he mutters against your skin, kissing the sensitive spot just below your ear, “that I’m not trying to take advantage of you.”

A hand creeps up the back of his neck. “What if I want you to?”

“I’m serious.”

“I am serious. I’m not the one hesitating.”

His hand glides slowly up your side, fingertips barely ghosting over your skin, and a soft, shaky breath escapes his lips. “I’m trying to be responsible."

“I think we’re past being responsible,” you counter as his fingers trace your waist. “What are you so worried about, anyway? You’re not forcing me into anything.”

“I want to make sure you don’t feel like—” his fingers twitch, lingering over your bare skin, “—like I’m taking advantage of the situation.”

“I’m literally naked under you,” you remind him. “If anyone’s taking advantage here, it’s me.”

His forehead drops to your shoulder, and you feel the slow rise and fall of his chest as he exhales. “You’re making this really hard, you know that?”

“That’s kind of the point.”

And it’s true, Spencer realizes with a rush of heat, because he’s incredibly hard, the heavy length of his cock pressed against your stomach while he braces his weight above you. His lungs tighten, squeezing around breaths that feel too thick to swallow as his teeth graze his lower lip. It takes everything in him to keep from losing himself when his mind is already slipping.

How could he have ever imagined it would go this far?

Spencer can’t quite make sense of how this quiet, unassuming crush that crept in the first time he saw you with his daughter has led to this. It wasn’t anything grand or sudden, just this slow bloom that unfurled every time he caught you reading to Violet or laughing with her over some little joke in the living room. There was just something about the way you slipped so easily into his life, fitting into the spaces he hadn’t realized were empty until you filled them.

He’d never let himself imagine it would go beyond that. He’d convinced himself those feelings for you were just something he’d have to live with quietly, a small ache that would fade with time. But somehow, despite his best efforts to keep it hidden, you’d found your way to him. And against all his expectations, you liked him back. You like him enough that you’re now wearing nothing but a smile.

Flushed skin kissed by the moonlight spilling through the window.

Innocent eyes touched with a hint temptation.

It all feels like some sort of surreal dream.

The moment that led to this replays in his mind, clear as daylight even if it happened well past midnight. He’d gotten home somewhere between too late and way too late, running on nothing but caffeine and sugar, and there you were, leaning casually against the kitchen counter like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You started talking about your day with Violet, recounting how you’d taken her to the park, read her favorite book before bed, and how she’d peppered you with endless questions about why the sky changes colors when the day changes into night. But something was different in your voice, a softness to the way you said his name, and your gaze lingered on him just a beat longer than usual. It wasn’t anything obvious, nothing he could point to and say that’s it, but he felt it. An almost imperceptible shift in the air.

Before he knew it, he had crossed the room and kissed you. He should’ve thought it through or paused to consider the consequences, but the way you responded made it clear you’d been waiting just as long for his attention.

His shoulders fall with a quiet exhale.

“This could get complicated,” he continues, as if reminding you (and maybe himself) that there’s a line between employee and employer that he’s about to cross. A line that could change everything between you both once it’s blurred. “We should think about what this means.”

“We’ve had plenty of time to think. If you wanted to stop, you would’ve done it already.”

“I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to say.”

“Then please enlighten me.”

Instead of answering right away, he leans in, his lips finding the curve of your neck. His breath is warm against your skin, and then he’s gently pulling the tender flesh between his lips that draws a sudden moan from your throat. The sound seems to fuel him, and before you can even register what’s happening, his fingers are already slipping lower, exploring the soft space between your thighs.

“What if I want more than this?” His fingers inch closer, teasingly brushing against your heat with a slowness that borders on torment. “What if I want everything?”

Your hips buck against his hand. “Everything?”

“Everything,” he confirms. “Not just tonight.”

The words send a ripple of electricity that blooms deep in your core. When his fingers finally slip between your folds, a sharp gasp escapes your lips before you can hold it back.

“You… you mean you want… more than this? More than just us… here?”

“Yes,” he replies, his voice catching like gravel in his throat as his fingers trace over the slickness he’s found. “Does that scare you?”

For a moment, words fail you. The slow, coaxing rhythm of his fingers pulls you deeper into a haze where coherent thoughts are hard to grasp. There’s a pause, a heartbeat where he stops. Waiting.

“No,” you confess, the truth slipping out more easily than you expected. “It doesn’t.”

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. “It doesn’t?”

Your lungs expand, filling with a rush of oxygen and a nervous flutter that lands somewhere in the pit of your stomach. “I think this is the right time to tell you I’ve had a crush on you for a while.”

Spencer stays motionless for a beat. Then something shifts—his gaze softens, and a small, almost incredulous smile curves his lips. “You have a crush on me?”

“Yeah.”

“As in… you have feelings for me?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“So you’re not just… turned on right now?”

“Well, that too,” you admit with a grin, your fingers brushing the back of his neck. “But it’s more than that. I really like you.”

His smile widens, and his fingers begin to move again, circling your clit with just the right pressure to pull a sharp intake of breath from you. It’s as though your confession is a final green light he’d been waiting for. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Your teeth catch your lip, struggling to hold back fragments of breath. “I thought it was obvious,” you manage between heavy exhales. “Why do you think I always stay late?"

"To avoid traffic?"

You huff. "I tried to be around you as much as possible, Spencer."

His fingers toy at the edge of your entrance, tracing the slick, warm wetness that clings to his skin as a quiet hum rumbles in his chest. “You know I’m not always the best at picking up social cues.”

“You’re a profiler.” Your breath catches halfway between a gasp and a sigh when he slides a finger in. “You're supposed to notice everything."

He lets your words settle, eyes narrowing slightly as he turns them over in his mind.

“I guess I was too focused on trying not to cross any lines to see the ones you were trying to draw."

A soft moan escapes your lips as another finger slides in.

“I'm… glad you finally caught on."

"I'm catching on now.”

His eyes drop to the way your body greedily takes his fingers. The sight alone sends a rush of heat straight to his gut like a line of fire winding up through his chest and spreading into his limbs. You’re dripping, the slick sound of your arousal nearly derails him as he continues to watch the wetness coat his fingers with every slow thrust.

“Since when have you had this crush?” He asks curiously.

There’s a beat of silence, only punctuated by the soft, breathy noises escaping you. When he finally looks up, he catches the way your face scrunches in pleasure, brows furrowed and eyes barely open, and he can’t help but find it almost unbearably adorable. The corners of his lips twitch with a quiet laugh before he leans in, pressing the softest it’s okay, you can tell me kiss against your lips.

“Since when?”

You blink your eyes open at his question, and there’s a flush of embarrassment in your cheeks.

“Since—” you start, but your voice catches when he curls his fingers slightly, and you bite down on your lip to keep from moaning. He raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a barely-contained grin.

“Since?” he prompts again.

You swallow the lump tightening in your throat. “Since you interviewed me for the job."

He absorbs your words. "That’s… more than a while."

"It was innocent at the time," you confess, trying to regain some control over your thoughts. "Just a silly little crush."

His pace quickens, fingers plunging deeper, and whatever sense of composure you had left is slipping away piece by piece. “What changed?”

Desperation claws at you with every passing second, your hips moving against his hand as you scramble to gather your thoughts. But the way his fingers are mapping every sensitive spot makes it nearly impossible to articulate anything coherent. He doesn’t miss the way your breath stutters, or how your words break apart into fragmented attempts to answer.

“I-I—” you stammer, wincing as the words catch in your throat before you finally manage to continue, “I probably shouldn’t say…”

“Why not?”

“It’s embarrassing."

He lets out a soft laugh. “Tell me anyway,” he urges. “I want to hear it.”

You fall quiet again, and the only sounds that fill the space between you is the ragged pull of your breaths and the slick rhythm of his fingers pumping lazily inside you. The words sit heavy on your tongue, threatening to disappear if you don’t say them quickly enough.

"Remember when… you taught Violet how to… ride her bike?”

He tilts his head slightly. There’s a furrow in his brow as he searches your face. “You’re going to have to be more specific, there were a lot of lessons.”

“The very first time.”

“Ah,” he muses. “Around June, then.”

You nod. “When I… saw you with her that day, I-I… I got curious.”

His fingers falter, just slightly, the subtle pause enough to show that you’ve grabbed his attention. “Curious?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “You were so adorable with her… and I started thinking about what it would be like… to have your kids.”

If there was ever a moment to leave him utterly speechless, this was it. His brain seems to stall, the gears grinding to a halt as the reality of what you’ve said settles in. He’s spent so much time trying to be the one holding it all together, but now? Now all he could picture was you holding a baby—his baby—and the thought sent his mind reeling, knocking him off balance in a way he didn’t expect.

“You… thought about that?”

Your fingers trails his shoulder before slipping up into his hair, curling gently at the nape of his neck. “It crossed my mind more than once.”

“That’s—” wow. He leans his forehead against yours. “Not embarrassing. At all.”

“Really?”

“That’s probably the hottest thing I've ever heard in my life.”

You let out a soft chuckle, gently pulling on his curls before drawing his bottom lip into a gentle suck. “It’s never been innocent since then.”

Goosebumps rises along his skin, and the heat pooling low in his stomach tightens as he grows impossibly harder. “Yeah?”

“I’ve wanted you to fuck me for a long time.”

His jaw clenches.

He’s so close to completely losing it.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” he mutters, pressing his fingers deeper inside you.

“Why.. why not?”

“Because I might give you exactly what you want.” When he feels you clench around him, he huffs in amusement. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

There’s a tender spot he finds deep inside, one that feels achingly sensitive, and your mouth falls open, a soundless gasp escaping before you can catch it.

“You really mean it,” he says, more a realization than a question, as he watches your body go pliant beneath his touch.

“I do,” you manage to say.

“You want me that way?”

You nod frantically. “Want your cum in me.”

The second those words leave your lips, his groan rumbles through his chest, and you swallow it down as his mouth crashes into yours. The kiss is messy, teeth clashing and tongues tangling in a chaotic rhythm that’s both desperate and needy. When he finally pulls away, you’re left panting, your lips swollen, his forehead resting against yours.

“Never would’ve guessed you had such a dirty mouth."

"There's a lot of thing you don't know about me."

His breath brushes against your lips as he whispers, “I’m starting to figure that out.”

When he slowly withdraws his fingers, you can’t help the soft whimper that escapes your throat. Your eyes follow his every move as he sits up and settles between your thighs. You’ve always thought Spencer was an attractive man, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t admired the way his shirts fit just snug enough to hint at what was underneath. But seeing him naked like this? That was a whole new level of breathtaking.

Your gaze trails down his frame, landing on the soft curve of his stomach, something you'd secretly adored every time it pressed against his dress shirts. It was even more captivating without anything hiding it now, especially with the trail of dark hair leading down. Soft, scattered strands, drawing your eyes right to the place where you can’t help but stare.

He gives himself a slow pump. Once. Twice. And then, finally, you feel the firm pressure of his tip pressing between your folds.

“Are you sure?” he asks, the head of his cock sliding over your sensitive skin. “There's a condom in my drawer."

Your body tenses at the thought of him pulling back, and without thinking, your hand reaches between the two of you, wrapping around his cock before he can pull away. “When was the last time you got tested?”

He exhales sharply. “A few months ago,” he mutters, hips twitching against your grip despite himself. “If there was any risk, I wouldn’t even consider this without telling you.”

“I got tested last month,” you assure him quickly. “We’re both safe.”

He nods absentmindedly. “We can… still grab the condom if you want…”

“Spencer,” you interrupt, gently brushing the bead of precum that had formed at his tip. “I thought I made it clear I want you to cum inside me.”

He can only stare as your delicate finger trails along the thick vein. It feels like all the oxygen he’s desperately clinging to has been sucked from his lungs.

“I know you said you don’t want to take advantage of me…” you continue, guiding him right to your entrance. “But I really want you to.”

He finally lets out a low, gruff sound, something between a growl and a sigh as he slowly pushes himself in. His eyes are locked on the sight of your walls stretching to accommodate his size, watching as your body struggles to take him.

"You should stop talking like that," he rasps through gritted teeth. "I’m barely holding it together."

"Here's another thing you should know about me.”

He ruts gently into you. A push. A pull.

A heartbeat in between.

“I really like it rough."

That’s all it takes.

He slams his hips into yours.

Intense doesn’t even begin to describe what he feels. It’s more like a surge, a rush of heat and desperation that floods every inch of him the same time you cry out. His throat tightens, constricting around breaths he can’t seem to catch as he resorts to inhaling sharply through his nose.

“Jesus… you feel so—” His words falter, his voice rough and breathless as his fingers figs into your skin. His chest rises and falls with each labored breaths, and his eyes squeezes shut for a moment.

Tight. Warm. Wet. That’s exactly how you feel.

"Perfect." His large hands grips your waist. “You’re perfect.”

You mewl at his words, the sound spilling from your lips before you can stop it, and the soft, needy noise is enough to make his eyes flicker open. He begins to pull back, just enough to make you whimper from the sudden loss of contact, but before you can catch your breath, he snaps his hips forward with a rough, powerful thrust.

Your hands fly to his arms, holding onto him tightly. "Spencer… Please…”

He lets out a sigh.

No man is immune to that tone of desperation, least of all Spencer. Not when you’re offering yourself to him like something out of a dream. Not when your eyes lock onto his with a look that belongs more to an angel—if angels could be so helpless and desperate. Because what angel pleads with every breath for more?

What angel cries out as he holds your hips firmly in place and thrusts with a force that drives you to the brink of sanity?

He’s mesmerized. His eyes track the way your breasts bounce with each snap of his hips. There’s something almost greedy in the way his gaze roams over you, but it’s when he locks onto where your bodies meet that he really loses himself. A glossy ring coats his cock each time he pulls out, and when he pushes back in, the friction between your bodies creates a lewd, wet sound that fills the room.

He laughs. Not out of mockery, but out of sheer delight.

You’re an angel wrapped in sin.

“I can’t—oh god, right there—” Your nails leave little crescents moon on his skin. “You’re so… so deep.”

You’re really testing his limits, and Spencer knows he’s very far from a violent man, but right now, the temptation to cover your mouth with his hand is becoming dangerously real. Although with the way you’re writhing beneath him, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts, he’s sure you’d probably enjoy it.

“Spencer…”

His balls slaps your ass as he slams into you.

“O-Oh—fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He squeezes your waist tightly. “Already?”

“Ngh.”

Your grip loosens on his arm, and before he can fully process what’s happening, your fingers dance along your clit. It takes all his willpower not to spill into you right then and there when he feels you tighten around him in response. But he holds on, because he needs you to cum first. He needs to feel your velvety walls flutter along the rigid veins of his cock, needs to watch the way your body tenses with pleasure.

He needs to feel it more than once.

He lets you have your first orgasm. Although letting seems like the wrong word. There’s nothing passive about it. He’s making you cum, driving you to it with each calculated thrust. You’re toying with your clit, rubbing in frantic circles just like you do whenever you touch yourself with the thought of him, but this time, it’s even more intense. This time, he’s inside you. And this time, it takes only a few moments for the tension to snap.

You clamp down on him. Hard. So hard that his movement falters for a second, but he quickly recovers, thrusting into you with a relentless rhythm. Just as you start to catch your breath, he pulls out, and you’re left in that delicious, dizzy haze, but your mind is even more disoriented when his face suddenly lowers between your thighs.

“Oh, you’re gonna—” you moan as his shoulders nudge your legs apart, opening you wider for him. “Spencer, you don’t have to—”

Before you can finish, before you even take another breath, the tip of his tongue flicks out.

“I want to.”

And he means it. He dives in with a hunger that leaves no room for doubt. His tongue starts firm and flat, pressing against you before dragging slowly upward, gathering your slickness in one deliberate sweep. Then he changes rhythm, the broad strokes shifting into something more focused, alternating between gentle flicks and deep, hungry pulls, and it’s doing things to you that no amount of late-night fantasies could have prepared you for.

Your head is all over the place that you reach out blindly, trying to find something solid, but the air merely glides over your skin. You stretch for the edge of the bed, fingertips just skimming the surface before your arms flail helplessly in the empty space. He notices your struggle almost immediately, and without missing a beat, he pulls back, lifting your legs to rest on his shoulders.

“Here,” he says, reaching out his arms toward you. “Give me your hands.”

Gladly. The second your fingers lock with his, a sense of grounding floods you, though it does nothing to ease the intensity of what he’s doing. If anything, it sharpens. You can feel the muscles in his shoulders flex under your thighs as he positions himself. And sure, your legs somehow feel weightless, like they’re floating in the air, but the rest of you?

You’re a mess of nerve endings on fire.

It’s impossible to think clearly when every cell in your body is buzzing. Your thoughts scatter the second his mouth moves in that devastating way, driving you out of your mind. You try to hold on to some semblance of control, but who are you kidding? He has officially turned you into a puddle of desperate, needy nerves, and you don’t even care.

It doesn’t take long before that coil snaps, and when it does, your entire body trembles. It’s always the second orgasm. The first is a tease, a little warm-up. The second one is the worst—or the best, depending on how you look at it. It doesn’t just tug at your edges, it tears right through, leaving you gasping and shaking and completely undone like every part of you has been pulled apart and put back together very wrong.

His mouth is glazed with your slick when he finally pulls away. “Good?”

You can barely feel your legs.

“Speechless,” is your answer.

His nose twitches in amusement as his hand leaves yours only for them to slide down your body, gently coaxing your legs to wrap around his waist. “Continue?”

“Please.”

A palm slips down your thigh. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

You swipe your tongue across your bottom lip as he hovers above you. “About what?”

“About taking advantage of you.”

You huff out a sigh. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

“Say it again,” he urges, guiding his cock smoothly along your folds before your whines travel into his ears. Ah, there it is. This is the sound that would greet him in heaven, if such a place existed for someone like him. Men who’ve taken lives to save others. Men who carry too many regrets to count. Spencer knows he’s not the kind of person heaven was built for, but if it were, he’s certain it would sound exactly like the breathy moan that escapes your lips.

And he’s tasted the afterlife, once, when he was younger—drifting somewhere between consciousness and oblivion with a ghost of a needle stuck in his arm. But nothing about that brush with death was like this. This feels like he’s been pulled back into something he didn’t believe he deserved.

“Say it again.”

He’s pleading now. It sounds awfully like a prayer.

“I want you to take advantage of me,” you say, the words spilling from your lips like a soft, sinful confession, music to his ears. An angel. “I want all of it.”

He takes your hands again. “So you won’t be mad if I get a little rough?”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

That’s all he needs. He gently pushes your hands above your head, pinning them to the mattress, his fingers lacing through yours as his weight presses you into the bed. There’s a sudden rush—like a switch has flipped that it knocks the breath out of you. Your heart skips a beat, but not from nerves. No, this is anticipation, excitement.

You test his hold on you, just to see what happens, but his grip stays firm, almost daring you to resist.

“You asked for this,” he warns as he shifts his hips, aligning himself right to your entrance.

You shake your head. “I begged for this.”

He laughs, a flash of teeth in the dim light. “Yeah,” he breathes, his grip tightening as he presses deeper, “you did.”

A breathless whine escapes your lips as he fills you.

Angel, angel, angel.

He looks at you with a kind of reverence that borders on worship, though his movements are anything but saintly. There’s nothing gentle or innocent about the way he’s taking you, and there’s a quiet madness in the way you respond. Making love would be too tame, too soft for what this is. But fucking seems too crude, too disconnected for the way your eyes meet his, for the way you say his name like a prayer and a demand all at once.

The moment your voice breaks, breathless and needy, something inside him snaps. He feels the tightness coiling in his gut, and once it starts, there’s no stopping it. The pressure is mounting, and with every hard thrust it becomes harder to hold back. He knows he should slow down, give you a moment to catch your breath, but he can’t—his body won’t let him.

His fingers tighten around yours. He’s moving with a single-minded intensity now, pushing you flat against the mattress, your body pliant beneath him. The bed creaks every time he moves and your legs wrap tighter around his hips as you squeeze your eyes shut.

Spencer leans down, brushing his lips against yours, so close but never quite closing the distance, like even the simplest kiss would shatter him too soon. Instead, he rests his forehead on top of yours and whispers, “l’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over, like he’s stuck on some endless loop. It’s not a real apology, not for anything he’s done, but for how much he needs you and how he’s afraid of breaking you with how much he can’t hold back.

He’s so close and he knows he’s not going to last much longer.

“I’m—” He groans as he feels the tension in his body snap, the wave building up in his spine and crashing down with brutal intensity. “I—fuck—I can’t hold it—”

You’re barely coherent yourself, but your voice comes out strong. A little breathless.

“Inside,” you gasp, your legs tightening around his waist. “I want it inside.”

Your words push him over the edge. He shudders, hips stuttering as he buries himself as deep as he can the moment the last thread of his restraint snaps. He can feel it, the way he pulses inside you, filling you completely. Every thrust is accompanied by a harsh groan as his release paints your walls, and the sound of your soft, desperate whines only pushes him deeper into the overwhelming pleasure.

When it finally becomes too much, he carefully pulls out. But the intensity is still coursing through his veins, and he’s too addicted to the sound of your sound, too drawn to the way your body trembles beneath him.

His hand drifts from your wrist almost on instinct, tracing its way down between your legs. He doesn’t need to see the mess he’s made—he can feel it. There’s a fleeting moment where he pauses, almost in awe, before his fingers brush over your clit, and your hips jerk in response. He’s not even sure if he’s teasing you or himself at this point, but he’s too far gone to care.

He slides two fingers inside you.

Your back arches instantly, your nipples brushing against his chest, and you gasp, fully aware of what he’s trying to do. “Oh… I—I can’t…”

He shakes his head. “You can,” he reassures you, watching in fascination as he pushes the white liquid of his release deeper into you. His gaze snaps back to yours. “I think you can give me one more.”

Your body trembles, and you can’t hold back the soft, broken cry that escapes your lips.

“Spencer…”

He loosens his grip on your hand, guiding it gently to rest around his neck. “Please,” he begs, his lips brushing your skin, “for me?”

The way he says it makes it impossible for you to deny him. And he knows it. He feels it in the way your nails dig into the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the tension inside you builds again. His fingers work faster, more desperate now, curling inside you just the way you like.

He’s watching, waiting, and when you finally cum again, it’s like witnessing something so divine. Your body shakes beneath him, a violent, beautiful quake that feels like it’s pulling him into its orbit. He’s unable to tear his eyes away as your head tilts back, lips parting with a choked moan that’s as delicate as it is devastating like an angel’s breath caught on the edge of rapture.

If angels looked this breathtaking in heaven, no wonder people were willing to risk damnation.

Spencer smiles wryly to himself.

Since when did he become so religious?

Another strangled moan escapes your lips. When your orgasm finally subsides, your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, and with what little strength you have left, you reach up and yank weakly at his mop of brown curls.

“…no more.”

He smiles softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “No more,” he agrees, pulling his fingers from you carefully.

Without saying a word, he slips off the bed and disappears from the room, only to come back with a damp towel in his hand. You expect him to hand it over to you, but you’re surprised when he kneels at the edge of the bed, gently spreading your legs apart.

Your skin tingles under his gaze as he stares at the mess between your thighs.

“That was…” he starts as he begins to wipe the towel over you. “…very reckless of us.”

With a small, tired smile, you mutter, “You don’t seem too bothered by it.”

He glances up at you. “I’m not,” he admits, finishing his cleanup and setting the towel aside. “But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t at least pretend to be responsible.”

You reach for him as he climbs back into bed. “Would it make you feel better if I told you I’m on birth control?”

He exhales a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, his body visibly relaxing as he lets out a quiet laugh. “It definitely helps,” he says, tucking you under his chin, “but I’m still going to try to be more careful next time.”

Your grin is as wide as the warmth spreading through your chest. “Next time?”

He smiles softly. “I meant what I said earlier.”

“Which part? You said a lot of things.”

“You know what I mean,” he insists.

“I know. But I want to hear it again.”

The tip of his nose brushes yours. “I want everything.”

“Everything?”

“Every single part of you.”

You take a deep breath. A whiff of his sweat and the faintest trace of soap clings around your senses until you release a happy sigh. “Do you think Violet will be okay with this? With us?”

His hand slips to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he tilts his head to look at you. “She already loves you,” he reassures you. “She’s more adaptable than you think. And she trusts you.”

“But... what if it changes things for her?”

“It will change things,” he admits. “But all the changes will be good ones."

You mull over his words. “You think so?”

“I know so, because you make her happy. You make both of us happy, an—”

He stops, his lips just barely parted as he catches himself.

He almost said it. He almost called you angel.

“What?”

He shakes his head slightly, a faint embarrassed smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I’m just really happy,” he explains, his fingers absentmindedly brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. There’s a curious look in your eyes, but instead of pressing him, you bury yourself into his neck, which he’s quietly grateful for because he’s not sure he could have explained himself without sounding like a total sap.

And maybe he is a sap, but even he’s aware that words like that shouldn’t be thrown around too soon, especially after just one night. Not before things settle in, before everything feels a little less like a dream and more like reality.

But he thinks about it. Oh, he thinks about it. The word stubbornly lingers at the edge of his mind he’s keeping for another time. He imagines letting it slip on some quiet morning, when you’re half-asleep and bundled in his shirt, golden sunlight filtering through the window to cast a warm glow across your skin. Or maybe when you meet him at the door after a long day, and Violet runs up, chattering away while you smile at him with that look that feels like coming home.

He can picture it falling easily from his lips someday, maybe even in a future where you’re holding the baby you had wondered about having with him and he’s standing there, watching you like someone who can’t quite believe his luck.

He’ll say it with a kind of certainty then. Not as a prayer, not as some lofty declaration of divine grace.

And when that moment comes, without hesitation, he’ll finally call you his angel.

[rafecameronssl4t]

How about Pope/JJ having a crush on Topper’s younger sister which is also Rafe’s girl and him making sure he knows his place and the fact that she’s his girl. Maybe she’s the island sweetheart and she’s nice to everyone, and sometimes she hangs out with the pogues (despite her brother and boyfriend hating that) and Rafe noticed how the boy looks at her and decides to put on a little show to prove she’s his girl 🫣🥹

Get in losers, we’re going shopping || Rafe Cameron x Thornton!reader

A/n: This was so fun to write thank u for the request 🫶

Warnings: swearing, suggestive, possesive/jealous!rafe, if there’s anything else lmk

Word count: 1,837

MASTERLIST (rafe x thornton!reader au masterlist)

Divider by @yoonitos

mood board

As you drive along, a smile creeps across your face when you notice JJ and Pope walking on the side of the road. You slow your car, matching their pace, which causes them to exchange puzzled glances before coming to a halt.

Rolling down your window, you lift your sunglasses, locking eyes with the two boys. Their confusion quickly shifts to recognition, and a mix of surprise and curiosity spreads across their faces.

“Hey boys,” you greet them with a smile. “Oh—hey, y/n,” Pope stammers, making you giggle. “This your new car?” JJ asks, patting the sleek Porsche. You hum in response, “want a ride?” you offer sweetly.

The boys exchange a quick glance before sprinting to the passenger side, shoving each other. In the end, Pope manages to snag the seat, and you laugh at their antics.

“I’ll sugar momma you guys today,” you wink at them, moving the stick into gear. They grin widely, and you drive off, the engine purring smoothly. “So, where are we—” Pope starts, but he’s cut off by the sound of your phone ringing. Rafe’s name flashes on the display, and the boys visibly tense up, their smiles fading as discomfort sets in.

“Hi, Rafe,” you say, your voice carrying a mix of warmth and caution. “Hi baby, whatcha doin’? Thought I might come over to yours in a few minutes, gotta see Top for something too” Rafe’s voice fills the car, a smooth and confident drawl.

“I’m out right now, and I won’t be home for a bit,” you reply, tapping your finger against the steering wheel. The boys sit in tense silence, trying to act nonchalant but clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. The cheerful energy from earlier is all but gone, replaced by a palpable tension that hangs in the air.

It’s silent on the other end before Rafe speaks up again. “Right, where—where are you right now? You with anyone?” he stutters, his tone shifting to one of suspicion. Pope’s eyes widen, and he freaks out. “I don’t think we should be here right now,” he mutters under his breath. Eyes wide, you slap a hand over his mouth. “Shut up, dude!” JJ whisper-yells, trying to keep his voice low. You throw JJ a look that clearly says he isn’t helping.

Hearing the voices, Rafe stands up from his seat, his eyebrows furrowed. “Who was that?” he questions sharply. You glance at the boys, feeling the weight of the situation.“Uh, I’m just with Pope and JJ,” you quietly admit, bracing yourself for Rafe’s reaction.

There’s a brief, tense silence on the other end of the line, and you can almost hear Rafe’s jaw clench. You know how your boyfriend feels about you hanging out with them, and the tension in the car thickens as you wait for his response.

“Are you serious right now? How many times have I told you I don’t want you hangin’ around with them?” He angrily says. You roll your eyes, already feeling the annoyance building. “Rafe, I’m not having this conversation with you right now, okay?” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

“No. We’re having this conversation right now. Does Topper even know you’re hanging out with those Pogues?” Rafe snaps back, his tone leaving no room for argument. You let out a frustrated sigh, glancing at Pope and JJ, who look increasingly uncomfortable.

“Rafe, not right now. I’m hanging up, okay? Hanging up right now—” you begin, but Rafe interjects, “Don’t you dare—”Before he can finish his sentence, you press end call. The car falls into an uneasy silence as Pope and JJ sit there quietly, processing what just happened.

“Uhm, so that just happened,” Pope says, staring out at the road in front of him as you chuckle. “I’m so sorry you guys had to hear that,” You apologetically say, biting your bottom lip anxiously, “Nah, don’t even worry about it,” JJ reassures you as you smile at him through the rearview mirror. “Do you guys wanna get some gelato? I’m craving some right now,” You offer as you turn into the main road of Kildare.

~

Opening the door to your house, you pause for a moment as your eyes fall on Topper and Rafe lounging on the sofa. Topper is scrolling through his phone, barely glancing up at your entrance, while Rafe reclines with a smug look on his face.

“Where have you been?” Topper asks, his gaze still fixed on his phone. You hesitate, glancing at Rafe, whose smirk only deepens. “Uh, did Rafe not tell you?” you ask, your voice tinged with confusion since you for sure thought that he would tell your brother who shared the same disdain towards JJ and Pope.

Rafe raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the discomfort he’s causing. “Tell him what?” he says innocently, leaning back further into the cushions. “Oh, nothing. I was just hanging out with my friends,” You say as you slip off your sandals, Topper giving you and Rafe a suspicious look.

“Yeah, okay. How’s your new car, by the way? Have you scratched it yet? Cause if you did, you know Mom and Dad will throw a fit,” Topper says casually, his tone laced with a hint of sarcasm. You roll your eyes, feeling the familiar sting of his passive-aggressiveness. Without responding, you turn to leave the room.

Rafe gets up from the sofa and follows behind you, his expression unreadable. “How does my little sister end up with a Porsche for her first car anyway? It’s fuckin’ unfair,” Topper’s voice jeered from the adjacent room, his tone laced with mockery. “Shut up, Topper!” you retorted, frustration seeping into your voice as Rafe let out a soft, amused snort.

“What are you doing here, by the way?” you ask Rafe who shuts your door behind him as you set your shopping bags down on the ground. “Can I not see my girlfriend?” he says with a playful smirk, his eyes dancing with mischief as he lounges comfortably on your bed.

You pause, studying his expression for any hint of underlying motive. “I just thought you wouldn’t wait for me after I told you who I was hanging out with,” you say cautiously, carefully avoiding mentioning JJ or Pope by name.

Rafe’s response is nonchalant, almost dismissive. He simply shrugs, as if your concerns are of little importance to him. “Don’t care,” he replies coolly, his tone betraying no trace of emotion. You lean against your window, raising an eyebrow at his nonchalance. “Really?” you say, not quite believing him.

He hums, his expression unchanged. “Yeah, really.” You slowly nod, still feeling a bit skeptical. “You coming to the party tonight, right?” Rafe speaks up, breaking the tension as you throw your new clothes into your hamper. “I didn’t even know there was a party tonight, but sure,” you shrug, before collapsing on top of Rafe, who exaggerates a loud groan in response, playfully protesting your weight.

~

Getting out of the car, you could already feel the curious stares people were giving your way as Topper and Rafe walked up behind you. The beach was buzzing with activity, and you took in the scene, noting the mix of familiar and unfamiliar faces.

Scanning the crowd, you quickly spot JJ and Pope hanging out with a few others near the bonfire. They notice you and wave enthusiastically. A smile spreads across your face as you lift your hand, ready to wave back, but before you can, Rafe grabs your hand firmly.

“C’mon, let’s get some drinks,” he mutters against your ear, his breath warm on your skin. His tone is casual, but the grip on your hand leaves little room for argument. You glance back at JJ and Pope, who are now watching the interaction closely, their expressions shifting to concern.

Reluctantly, you let Rafe guide you towards the makeshift bar set up on the sand. Topper falls into step beside you, his presence adding to the tension. “Here,” Rafe passes you a drink as you gratefully take it.

“What are you looking at?” you ask, staring at Rafe’s side profile. He turns to you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he pulls you closer. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” he mutters, his tone trying to sound reassuring but tinged with irritation.

Following his earlier line of sight, you glance over and spot JJ and Pope. They’re laughing with a group of friends, seemingly unaware of Rafe’s intense gaze moments ago. Your stomach tightens as you realize he’s been watching them.

Rafe’s grip on you tightens ever so slightly, a subtle reminder of his possessive nature. You look back at him, trying to gauge his mood, but his expression is a mask of casual indifference. The contrast between his actions and his words leaves you feeling uneasy,

“Let’s go,” Rafe suddenly stands up, grabbing your hand abruptly, “What?” As soon as Rafe is standing up with you following along, you hear the whistles and low muttering of people. “Everyone shut the hell up!” Topper groans, watching his little sister and bestfriend walk off.

“Rafe, where are we going?” you ask, glancing back at the crowd, feeling the weight of their stares and the palpable tension in the air. “Shh, it’s fine, we’re just going back to your car,” Rafe says, pulling you closer. He leans in to kiss you, and you feel his smirk against your lips. His hands begin to wander, moving further down your back, his touch both familiar and possessive.

“Rafe,” you pull back slightly, your voice tinged with concern. “It’s fine, yeah? Please?” He looks at you with a familiar intensity, his eyes pleading yet commanding. It’s a look you know all too well, one that mixes affection with an undercurrent of control.

Playfully rolling your eyes, you unlock the car and gently push him before settling down on his lap. His arms wrap around you tightly, holding you close with an almost possessive firmness. You can feel the strength in his grip, the way he presses you against him, as if asserting his claim over you.

“You’re mine, y’know that, right?” he mutters against your neck, his breath warm and slightly ragged. “Mhm, I know that,” you mumble, your hands running through his hair. His fingers dig into your waist, drawing you even closer. His scent, a mix of cologne and the salty sea air, envelops you, creating an intoxicating mix of comfort and confinement.

You tilt your head slightly, allowing him better access to your neck as he continues to murmur possessive reassurances.

~

“Y/n?” You lift your head just as you finish zipping up your shorts. “Hey—” The greeting dies on your lips when you find yourself face to face with JJ. “What are you doing here?” you ask, awkwardly chuckling and smoothing down your hair. The sound of Rafe exiting the car behind you adds to the tension.

JJ’s eyes trace your appearance before flicking behind you to Rafe. “We were just about to, uh, leave,” he says, scratching his head. You nod awkwardly. “Hey, Y/n,” Pope greets as he joins the scene, sensing the uncomfortable vibe. You manage a smile at him. “Hi—” you start, but your words falter as Rafe steps up beside you, still buttoning his shirt. JJ and Pope stand there awkwardly, waiting, while Rafe ignores their presence.

“Did you guys have fun?” you ask, attempting to lighten the mood. Rafe finally looks up, a smirk playing on his lips as he glances at the boys. “Yeah, yeah, it was fun, I guess,” Pope replies hesitantly. JJ’s pained smile shifts between you and Rafe. “You guys sure did, huh?”

Rafe snorts at JJ’s comment, prompting you to slap his chest lightly. There was awkward silence before you speak up, “Did you guys want a lift back?” you offer.

Before they can respond, Rafe interjects, “Baby, you’ve had a few drinks already. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”JJ rolls his eyes at Rafe. “It’s fine, we’ll find our own way home,” Pope says, his smile tinged with sadness. You nod slowly.

“Yeah, you do that,” Rafe says dismissively, pulling you back towards the group. “Come on, babe.” You glance back at JJ and Pope one last time, mouthing a silent apology as they briefly wave goodbye. The expressions on their faces stay with you—a mix of disappointment and hurt that you can’t shake off.

[stunie]

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁ “DID YOU JUST FAKE THAT, PRINCESS?”

WINDBREAKER BOYS + FAKING AN ORGASM. ft. hayato suo, sakura haruka, togame jo, & umemiya hajime x f!reader

content: explicit smut (18+), overstimulation, squirting, fingering, cunninglingus, phone call / keep quiet, mirror sex, multiple rounds, creampies, usage of pet names, praise

part 1: ft. yamato endo, kiryuu mitsuki, & kaji ren

mdni - 2K wc . filled request! (i added togame) :>

HAYATO SUO. mirror sex

"h-how!”

your reaction is adorable, drawing a lighthearted chuckle from your boyfriend. you squirm a bit, face pressed uncomfortably against your vanity’s mirror as you’re bent over your own desk, a smiling suo looming right over you.

"well...you didn't replicate it very well," he coos, "i'm surprised you thought i would fall for that."

you narrow your eyes at him in disbelief. there was absolutely no chance that he was able to differentiate between a real one and a fake one— you’re certain of it. you had even mimicked the way your walls flutter around him whenever he pushes you off the edge.

“don’t believe me?” his voice comes out steady, cock prodding at your entrance, “i’ll show you.”

you gasp at the feeling of his length stretching your walls, pushing until just the tip is inside. he’s holding you tightly, not letting you move when you impatiently try and push your hips back for more.

“s-suo,” you blurt, “stop teasi—”

all at once, he’s slamming his hips into you, your tongue lolling out when he’s buried deep inside you. he doesn’t give you time to steady yourself before he sets a brutal pace, fingers coming to swipe perfectly at your clit. “see?” his voice comes out cheerful despite the way he’s bullying his length into you so roughly, “this is closer to the kind of faces you make for me.”

it’s all happening too fast. before you know it, you’re shivering and whining beneath him, arms knocking over your bottles of skincare as you try to brace yourself to take him. he’s awfully composed, subtly angling himself to slam against the spot that has you seeing stars. your orgasm approaches you so fast, faster than ever before, and it’s overwhelming.

“w-wait, suo, slow down—” you stammer, thighs shaking violently as the knot inside you threatens to snap. “it’s too much! ‘m gonna-”

“and you know? when i do this,” he interrupts sweetly, fingers coming to rub at your clit just as his cock pushes against a sensitive spot, “you’ll cum for me.”

it hits you in an instant, eyes widening when the familiar wave crashes through you, walls spasming against his length as you scream. your vision is still a blur even when he slows down his pace, dotted with white and black splotches. you can barely register what’s happening when suo’s hands come to run up and down your body as he sighs contentedly.

“see? like that,” he nods, “it’s easy.”

his length is still inside you, switching to slow and steady thrusts as you tremble beneath him. "don't worry. i'll show you again so you remember."

SAKURA HARUKA. squirting, cunninglingus, fingering

sakura’s fingers leave your clit the second he realizes something isn’t right, because you’re usually much louder and messier than this. he pulls back from your cunt for a second, head hot and blurry from nerves, and the violent blush across his face deepens as he forces himself to get a closer look at your cunt.

it all makes sense when he realizes he was touching the wrong spot— most likely due to the fact that his eyes had been clenched shut.

“y-you didn’t tell me,” he grumbles out of embarrassment, gaze shifting anywhere except on you. even with an apology and the explanation that you just wanted to make him more comfortable, the thought of how’d you look actually cumming on his face doesn’t leave his head.

he’s buried in your cunt now, your thighs clenched tightly around his head as he fucks his fingers deep into you. sakura had no idea just how addicting it would be when you first mentioned it to him— each moan that leaves your lips more sinful and loud than the last. it has his cock throbbing with need, forcing him to grind his hips against the mattress to relieve the frustrating ache.

“oh my god…” you mumble to no one in particular, mouth falling open when he pushes his tongue inside your cunt, eating you out with more intensity as his fingers come to press into your clit. “sakura—”

it’s dizzying, but he wants more. his free hand comes to dig into your ass, lifting you up a bit so he hold you flush against his face, licking and slurping at your cunt even as your thighs squeeze roughly against his head. “ah— fuck, sakura, w-wait!”

the way he’s eating you out feels different than what you’re familiar with. the knot in your core feels tighter, you feel wetter— he feels better. your hands come to desperately tug at his hair when it’s too much, and his eyes widen when you unintentionally push him deeper into your cunt.

the pressure of his tongue flicking against your clit one last time is all it takes for you to scream, cunt gushing into him as he licks and suckles at your clit. your walls flutter around nothing, your body numbing from the intensity— but your boyfriend looks the opposite.

“again,” his voice is just above a growl, cheeks still glowing red with embarrassment, “let me practice again.”

TOGAME JO. phone call / keep quiet, overstim

the sudden ringing of his phone catches the attention of the two of you, screen lighting up brightly as it vibrates against the mattress. togame’s thrusts slow down a bit, reaching to fish it from somewhere underneath the blankets to check the caller.

"ah, it's choji."

his voice comes out completely normal, as if he wasn’t balls deep inside your cunt just moments ago. it’s almost irritating how limitless his stamina is; your body numb and overstimulated since long ago, and all you’re able to do now is lay there and take what he gives you.

it takes all your energy to try and pull away from him to let him take the call, struggling a bit with the way his big frame is towering over yours, but he suddenly pulls your hips back against his own.

“jo!” you warn through a hushed whisper, eyes narrowing into a glare as the cheerful melody of his ringtone repeats itself again. your eyes widen when he puts a finger to his lips to silence you, and you realize that he’s planning on answering it without stopping.

a hand wraps around your neck, pulling you up until your back is flush against his chest, his thickness nestled right against your cervix with the angle. “gonna stay nice and quiet for me while i answer choji,” he coos into the shell of your ear, “won’t you?”

“because we’re not done just yet..”

your body falls back onto the mattress when he lets go, and you grasp onto one of your pillows to stuff your face into when he resumes his pace, starting slow and deep.

“choji?” togame asks, lifting the phone to his ear to tuck it between his shoulder casually. “ah..today?”

his hands hold your hips firmly as he picks up the pace, balls slapping against your clit as his tip prods at your cervix with each movement, and you can only hope it’s not loud enough for the mic to pick up. togame feels differently than usual, the drag and stretch of his length against your walls much more noticeable when you’re trying to keep quiet.

“that’s really last minute….mhm,” a small grunt forces its way out, “i’ll come after i finish what i’m doing here.”

there’s a sharp thrust of his hips and you can’t help the little yelp that escapes your lips. togame stiffens above you, hands gripping your hips to keep you still as the two of you wait to see if choji had heard you.

“noise…? nah, it must have been my phone. it’s old.”

your thighs are trembling against his, knot inside your core still threatening to snap even after he’s ripped orgasm after orgasm from you. “let me check the door though. hold on,” togame clicks the mute button before tossing his phone beside your head, suddenly pounding into you with more strength.

“f-fuck!” you cry when his cock hits a particular spot inside you, and you’re cumming just like that, gushing around him and screaming as your walls fluttering wildly against him. there’s a deep groan from him as he clenches his jaw, pace not faltering as he rapidly approaches his own high.

he lets you fall limp onto the bed, mind numb from each orgasm he’s pulled from you after your stunt tonight. “you gotta stay quiet,” he rasps, hands still holding your hips up for him, “wouldn’t want choji to hear you getting stuffed full for the third time tonight, right?”

his words send a shiver down your spine, walls clenching around his length at the thought. you’re so tired, too tired to do anything except cling onto the sheets beneath you, and you know he’s not even close to his limit.

“…or would you like choji to hear…?”

you shake your head quickly, drawing a small chuckle from togame. he picks up his phone again, giving you a warning squeeze around your hips before he’s unmuting his mic. “ahh…” he starts, “it was nothing. anyways, i’ll see you later, choji. i’m hanging up.”

he hangs up abruptly, letting out a deep groan he didn’t know he’s been holding in for the last minute when he feels your walls eagerly flutter around his length. togame’s quick to cage you underneath him, strong arms planted on either side of your head as his pace begins to falter, hips stuttering as he quickly approaches his high.

“so impatient…squeezing my dick like that. want me to fill you up nice and full, huh?”

UMEMIYA HAJIME. creampie, pet names, multiple rounds

"c'mon," umemiya grunts from above you, hips slowing their movement against yours, "you know you can't convince me with something like that."

he's gentle when he lowers himself onto his forearms, forehead pressing against yours as if searching for his answer. your bottom lip curls into a small frown, eyes shifting their gaze away from your boyfriend. he's always so good— knows exactly how to get you trembling underneath him in an instant, and you hate it. you hate the way your expression starts to contort and the way he’s pulling the most lewd sounds from you.

"it's embarrassing," you murmur, voice barely above a whisper, "the faces i make."

his eyes widen a bit at the confession, as if the idea of you being embarrassed wasn’t even a possibility in the first place. there's a experimental thrust of his hips, his cock nudging your cervix, and you can't help the small gasp that escapes.

“i don’t think that,” he coos, heavy cock stretching you so perfectly as he starts to move against you again, “don’t be shy.”

"f-fuck.." you gasp, because he feels too good. his chest is slick with sweat, the muscles of his arms flexing beside your head as he gazes down on you, intent on gauging each and every reaction his cock rips from you. “that’s good,” he whispers when your eyebrows furrow at the stimulation, “just like that. keep your eyes on me.”

he's getting rougher with each roll of his hips, thick length reaching impossibly deep inside your cunt. the back of your hand comes to cover your mouth when you feel the familiar knot tightening in your core, eyes clenching shut to fight it.

"nuh uh," ume's voice comes out a little breathless from the pace, his hands coming to pry yours off of your face, "no more hiding from me."

"u-ume," you protest with a huff, legs wrapping around his middle to keep him deep inside you, "just give it to me. please?"

he chuckles a bit, big hand coming to squeeze at your face, puckering your lips out. "oh, i will— i’ll give you what you need, pretty thing," he grunts when your walls flutter around his cock at the nickname, "so keep your eyes on me."

his fingers stay around your face, angling your head to face him when he sets a rough pace, balls slapping against your skin with each movement.

"wanna see you nice and clear when you cum for me, okay?"

[hoe4hotchner]

hiii!! :3

i saw you asking for fluff requests so... perhaps it's cold out, and the reader is out with hotch (maybe going out to a crime scene or smth) and the readers shivering and hotch looks awfully warm in his coat, so ofc the reader just goes up and asks for a hug! (just to warm up ofc. no other reason to ask your hot boss for a hug 🤭) (maybe the reader manages to slide into his jacket)

tysm! <33

The Jacket Incident | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!Reader CW: it's just cold and you were stupid enough to not wear a warm jacket. Also reader is shorter than Hotch. Fluff.

WC: 0.7k

Why is reader literally me in this one. I'm so dumb and not good at staying warm.

           The wind howled through the dark, desolate street, biting through the thin layers of your windbreaker as you and Hotch made your way back to the crime scene. You’d been out there for what felt like hours, and no amount of walking had kept the cold from seeping into your bones. Your fingers tingled with numbness despite being shoved deep into your pockets, and a shiver ran down your spine for the hundredth time.

           Hotch, of course, looked completely unbothered. He stood a few feet away, his demeanor calm and composed despite the freezing temperature. You couldn’t help but envy him a little. While you were practically freezing, he seemed like he hadn’t even noticed the cold.

           As you shifted from one foot to the other, trying to get some feeling back into your toes, you watched him finish his conversation. The way he stood, tall and commanding, only seemed to emphasize the fact that he was probably the warmest person in your vicinity. His jacket, the heavy, padded one you both wore during cases in colder climates, was unzipped - wide open, practically inviting you inside.

           You bit your lip, glancing around, trying to work up the nerve to do what you’d been thinking about for the last ten minutes. He was your boss, but more importantly, he was your boyfriend, which gave you a bit more confidence. And the thought of his warmth was too tempting to ignore. Bracing yourself, you took a few steps closer until you were standing beside him, shivering dramatically to make your point.

           Hotch turned his head slightly, his brow furrowing as he glanced down at you. "Are you cold?" he asked, his voice gentle, but there was a hint of playfulness in his eyes.

           You nodded, giving him your best pitiful look. "Freezing," you muttered, teeth chattering for good measure.

           Hotch’s gaze softened, and he let out a small sigh, his eyes flicking to your jacket before returning to your face. For a moment, you thought he was going to suggest you head back to the car, but instead, he smiled - just a tiny, private smile.

           Without a word, he opened his arms, his jacket still hanging open, and gave a slight nod toward the space between them. "Come here," he said, his tone warm and inviting, holding the edges of his jacket.

           Your heart skipped a beat at the offer, and without hesitating, you stepped closer, sliding your way into his open jacket. As soon as you were enveloped by his warmth, the world outside seemed to disappear. The heat of his body instantly chased away the cold, and you sighed in relief, nestling against his chest.

           Hotch’s arms wrapped around you instinctively, the thick jacket falling around your shoulders like a protective barrier from the wind. He smelled like his usual aftershave, mixed with the faint scent of coffee and something distinctly him - it was comforting. His hands settled gently on your back, holding you close, and you felt his chin rest lightly on the top of your head.

           "You should’ve said something sooner," he murmured, his voice rumbling through his chest.

You grinned, your cheek pressed against his shirt. "Figured you’d be too busy being all stern and in charge to notice."

           Hotch chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you, and you could feel the coldness in your body start to melt away. "I always notice," he replied quietly, his voice a little softer than usual, the warmth in his tone matching the heat of his body.

           You snuggled further into his chest, your hands slipping around his waist as you relaxed into his embrace. The cold air seemed like a distant memory now, replaced by the steady beat of his heart and the comforting weight of his arms around you.

           "Thanks for sharing your warmth," you mumbled, your words muffled against him.

           "Anytime," Hotch replied, his hand giving your back a gentle rub. "I’m always here to keep you warm."

           The two of you stood there for a while longer, wrapped up in each other, you were a sight for sore eyes. The wind and the cold now just background noise.

[pochaccoups]

cw — nsfw minors dni, possessive reader, reader referred to as a woman, oral (f receiving), mention of breeding, creampie, i need other people to stop perceiving my man

Some days dating an idol is everything you’ve ever dreamed of.

Other days you’re reminded that millions, maybe even tens of millions, of other people want him. You’re reminded by the Instagram comments, videos, Tweets, news articles that fawn over him, all of which garner thousands of views and likes from other people who agree—he’s the perfect man. Strong and buff and hot and kind and gorgeous.

They’re not dating him though. You are. And it’s not that you’re insecure—far from it, in fact, because of Seungcheol’s attentiveness—but sometimes when your feed is riddled with things like fancalls where your boyfriend has been trained to play along as a fan’s boyfriend, you just need a little reassurance.

One of the things you love about dating Seungcheol is that for you he’s built a space where you can be entirely honest with him about any anxieties you have. It means that when you do need his reassurance, you don’t hesitate in voicing it.

“Seungcheol, you’re mine right?”

“I hope so,” he quips, scrolling along on his laptop. Unfortunately for you, he’s too accustomed to your clinginess, which means that sometimes he fails to recognise what you want to hear from him.

You swat at his shoulder like an irritated cat. “Tell me you’re mine.”

He looks at you then and realises you’re being entirely serious.

“Why wouldn’t I be yours? Did I do something?” he asks, now shutting his laptop over. Whatever schedule he’d been emailed about gets shoved to the very back of his brain, replaced with only you.

“No, I just-”

“I can’t have a conversation with someone without bringing you up, and you think I’m not yours?” he says, reaching forward to wrap his hands around yours. His thumbs rub circles into your skin because you’ve told him once or twice how comforting you find it.

“I panic if I don’t have the Hello Kitty cherry keychain you got me when I go overseas, and you think I’m not yours?”

You giggle, growing suddenly shy at his words. His ability to woo you with his words even after two years is impressive, though it shouldn’t be a surprise when his suave and charming attitude was what pulled you to him in the first place.

You give a yelp as he tugs you into his lap without warning, presses you flush against his hard body with the strong hands you love so much.

“I’ve been looking at a ring for you, and you think I’m not yours?”

Your mouth parts with bewilderment and your heart skips a beat, though you barely have the time to comprehend the implications of his confession because he’s ghosting his lips against the curve of your neck.

“Have I not been good at showing it? Is that it?” he asks, grazing his teeth against your skin. You’re under his spell already, eyes rolling into your head as you grow breathless. His palms are hot, gliding under your t-shirt—his t-shirt—sending a shiver along your spine. “Or is my princess just clingy?”

You pull away from him just to pout in his face, but his glassy eyes are dark with desire and it means you don’t stand a chance. Not when his hands have moved to your thighs, inching their way between your legs, rubbing softly at your clothed crotch in a way that has you bracing against him immediately.

“Tell me, baby,” he urges, ghosting his lips against your neck, turning you into a puddle with such ease that it’s embarrassing.

“I want you to show me, Cheol,” you admit. Despite the quiver in your voice, you’re stern. “Show me you’re mine.”

He wastes no time tearing your shorts and panties down your legs, sinking to his knees on the floor in front of you, and diving straight between your legs.

He eats you like a man starved, laps at your clit like it’s life or death, peers up at you with hearts in his eyes as you moan and cry so sweetly it makes his dick swell in no time.

Seungcheol has you all mapped out; knows you like the back of his hand. He knows exactly how you’ll whine when he sucks on your clit, how you’ll tug at his hair when he glides his tongue through your folds, how you’ll buck your hips when he circles your clit with the tip of his tongue because you need more.

“More, Cheol,” you cry, echoing his thoughts. So predictable.

He grins against your cunt, pulling back just to let a little glob of saliva drop on it before his mouth latches onto you again. Seungcheol eats you out with a determination that’s dangerous. He’s aware of the telltale signs of your impending orgasm; your moans growing higher and your body unable to stop shifting, and when he knows you’re close, he’ll stop at nothing to give you what you want. What you need.

His tongue grows ruthless, dragging over every inch of your pussy with vigour until you’re crying his name at the top of your lungs and your fingernails are digging into the roots of his hair. He finally lets up a little, just enough so as not to overstimulate you as you cum, and he’s lapping up every drop of your arousal like he hasn’t seen water in weeks.

“I’ll never get over how sweet you taste, fuck,” he utters between the sounds of him slurping at your cunt, and it’s so lewd that your entire body flashes hot.

“Need you in me, baby, please,” you whimper, watching your boyfriend pull away from you with glistening, swollen lips, with his chin and cheeks covered in you. He’s quick to shrug his pants and boxers down his legs, frenzied almost, like he’ll die if he’s not touching you.

Seungcheol leans over you to melt his lips against yours. He’s messy, his tongue licking into your mouth in a way that should be overbearing, but there’s an underlying tenderness in the way he kisses you that feels more like he’s pouring his love into you.

“Yours,” he mumbles against your lips. You flinch when he glides his cock along your sensitive cunt, bumps your swollen clit because he can’t help but torture you just a little when you’re all splayed out for him so pretty. His tip catches your hole, making you keen when he still doesn’t slip inside.

“Seungcheol,” you whine, locking your ankles behind his back, pulling him in closer. His face softens when he sees how badly you need it, when he remembers that he’s not making you work for anything, because he has one job and one job only right now—to show you he’s all yours.

In one fluid motion, he slides all the way in, buries himself in you to the absolute hilt like it’s his home, the stretch so good you practically sob. He wastes no time, fucking you with tenacity, letting go of any semblance of self-control the second he feels the warmth of your cunt wrapped around him.

“God, how could I be anyone else’s when this is the pussy I get?” he grunts, fingertips gripping at your hips, guiding you along his fat cock so deliciously that your eyes roll into the back of your head. “My fucking dream woman.”

“You fuck me so good, Cheollie,” you moan, your fingers finding their way to the back of his neck, tugging at the slightly grown out hair there. You pull him in close, your face next to his so your breaths can intertwine, and you whisper, “all mine?”

“All yours. Only yours,” he replies, his thrusts growing faster, harder, more erratic, more debauched from how your pussy grips him, sucks him in. “Let me fill you up, baby. I’ll give you everything.”

You whine at the thought, making him hiss when you clamp down around his cock, but he refuses to slow his pace. In fact, he only fucks you harder into the couch. “Please, yes.”

“Maybe I’ll put my kids in your belly, huh? Will that convince you?”

You nod your head frantically. “Want it, Cheol.”

He only replies with a moan of his own, taking your hands in his and pinning them to the couch. His cock throbs, your cunt dripping wet as you both near the edge of your release.

“Gonna cum for me?” he asks, strained, like he’s holding himself back.

You only nod again, and Seungcheol’s thumb finds your clit, drawing circles until finally he unwinds the knot inside your belly, and you cum with another cry of his name, your walls clenching around him so harshly that he’s spilling inside of you not a moment later.

The kiss he gives you after is so contrastingly soft that you nearly pass out, but it’s the most Choi Seungcheol characteristic you can think of—to fuck you like an animal and kiss you like a loving boyfriend after.

“I love you,” he says, his voice still husky with his orgasm, but there’s nothing but sincerity in his words.

“I love you more,” you reply, smiling like the angel you’re not.

“Not possible.”

“Oh? I don’t believe you, so I guess you’ll just have to show me again.”

Seungcheol narrows his eyes. He pretends to be unamused. He loves it though. He loves being yours.

[weathernerdmando]

Still haven't gotten a call back about my account and the test results haven't shown up in the account that is presumably set up correctly. It's been two weeks almost since the appointment I would like to pay the lab fee and see my results so I can see if I can get the referral.

[astrxq]

Hey! I love The Dragon's Bride so much, I must have read it like 5 times already. You have beautiful writing and the fact that it's 17k is even better.

If your requests are still open, I wanted to throw an idea your way. Seeing how isolated the Blacks are getting, with the Greens conquering everything around them by land, Rhaenyra is desperate to forge another alliance that will bring her more ground stability. The perfect lord that can bring this to her only wants one thing in return: for his grandson to be the future king. So she is forced to break Jace's engagement to Baela so he can marry the lord's only daughter instead. That angst because Jace has feelings for Baela before the fluff of him discovering his feelings for his new wife like fjehdhw

It's totally okay if you don't vibe with the idea and don't want to write it btw!!

Conspiracy of Hearts

jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader

words: 23k

notes: thank you sooooo much anon <33, i love long fics (as you can probably tell) and i'm so so glad you enjoyed it. non-canon events, jace x baela at times, a made up lord. a bit of angst?? - fluffy. unnecessarily long fic, i apologize. i am NOT proud of this one 😭

The air in the great hall of Dragonstone was thick with tension, the stone walls seeming to close in as Queen Rhaenyra paced before the ancient Painted Table. The room was eerily quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the hearth fire and the soft rustle of her skirts as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Her fingers traced the carved coastline of Westeros, lingering over the territories that had fallen to the Greens’ hands. 

"Your Grace," a voice called from beyond the heavy oak doors. "Prince Jacaerys has arrived."

Rhaenyra straightened, composing herself with visible effort. "Send him in," she commanded, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her eyes.

The doors swung open, and Jacaerys Velaryon strode in. At nine-and-ten, he was already a man grown, with the bearing of one much older. His hands rested on his sword as he approached his mother with calm.

"Your Grace," he said, bowing his head respectfully. "You summoned me?"

Rhaenyra's gaze softened as it fell upon her eldest son. "Jace," she began, then faltered. For a moment, the mask of queenship slipped, revealing the anguish beneath. "I'm afraid I have dire news."

Jace's posture stiffened, bracing himself for whatever blow was to come.

"The Greens have taken Tumbleton," Rhaenyra continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "Our hold on the Reach is slipping. If we do not act soon, all will be lost."

Jace nodded gravely. "What would you have me do, Mother? I can fly to Tumbleton on Vermax, rally our forces–"

"No," Rhaenyra cut him off sharply. "I need you here, Jace. What I ask of you... it is not a battle to be fought with dragon fire, but with words and... promises."

A heavy silence fell over the room. Jacaerys took a deep breath, straightening his posture once again as he nodded once at his mother, silently promising to fulfill his duty.

"Lord Redfort has offered his support," Rhaenyra said at last. "His armies, his gold, his influence in the Vale. With his backing, we could turn the tide of this war."

Jace's eyes lit up with hope. "That's wonderful news, Mother. Why do you look so troubled?"

Rhaenyra's laugh was bitter and hollow. "Because nothing comes without a price, my son. And Lord Redfort's price is... steep."

Understanding dawned on Jace's face, followed swiftly by a flash of fear that he quickly masked. "What does he want?"

"He wants assurance that his family's loyalty will be rewarded," Rhaenyra said, each word seeming to pain her. "He demands that his grandson be promised the throne."

The implication hung heavy in the air. He felt a tightness in his chest, knowing what this meant for Jace, for Baela, for the future that had been carefully planned since their childhood.

"But... Baela..." Jace's voice was barely audible, a mixture of confusion and growing dread.

"I know," Rhaenyra said, and for a moment her composure cracked entirely. She moved to her son, taking his hands in hers. "My boy, my sweet boy. If there were any other way..."

Jace pulled away, his face a storm of emotions. "There must be another way. We can offer Lord Redfort something else, anything else."

"Don't you think I've tried?" Rhaenyra's voice rose in frustration. "I've offered titles, lands, positions at court. Nothing will sway him. It's this, or we lose everything we've fought for."

Jace turned away, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. The firelight cast long shadows across his face, highlighting the anguish etched there. "And what of Baela?" he asked at last, "What am I to tell her?"

Rhaenyra's shoulders sagged. "It is duty that will drive us to victory, my son."

"So I am to marry Lord Redfort's granddaughter," Jace said flatly. It wasn't a question.

"His daughter," Rhaenyra corrected gently. "She is but a year younger than you."

Jace's laugh was hollow. "As if that matters. I don't know her. I don't love her."

"Love?" Rhaenyra's voice hardened. "Love is a luxury we cannot afford in times of war, Jacaerys. You are a prince of the realm. Your duty is to your family, to your people. Sometimes that duty requires sacrifice."

Jace's jaw clenched. For a moment, Rhaenyra feared he would refuse outright. But then, slowly, the fight seemed to drain out of him. His shoulders slumped in defeat.

"When?" he asked simply.

"Lord Redfort and his daughter will arrive within a fortnight," Rhaenyra said, relief evident in her voice. "The betrothal will be announced immediately, and the wedding will take place as soon as it can be arranged after the war."

Jace nodded mutely, his eyes unfocused, staring at something only he could see. Without another word, he turned and strode from the room. The heavy doors slammed shut behind Jace as he stormed out of the great hall. His mind reeled, the weight of his mother's words pressing down upon him like a physical force. 

Without thinking, his feet carried him to the one place he knew he would find solace – or perhaps, he realized with a pang of guilt, the one place he shouldn't go.

Baela was in the dragon pit, tending to Moondancer. The young dragon chirped softly as she ran her hand over the scales, the sound echoing in the cavernous space. She looked up as Jace approached, her expression shifting from surprise to concern as she took in his troubled demeanor.

"Jace?" she called, setting down her hand. "What is wrong?"

For a moment, Jacaerys couldn't speak. He simply stood there, drinking in the sight of her – the way the torchlight glinted off her silver-gold hair, the gentle curve of her lips, the strength and grace in her movements. Everything he was about to lose.

"It's over," he finally managed, his voice hoarse. "Our betrothal. It's... it's been broken."

Baela's eyes widened, but to Jace's surprise, there was no shock in them. Only a deep, resigned sadness. "I see," she said softly. "The alliance with Lord Redfort?"

Jace nodded, a bitter laugh escaping him. "Of course you've heard. Nothing stays secret for long in this damned castle."

“Her Grace mentioned she was working with sending ravens for alliances, I only figured.” she said softly, patting her dragon’s head one last time before taking two steps towards him.

"Jace," Baela said, her voice gentle but firm. "You know as well as I do that this war demands sacrifices from all of us."

Her calm acceptance only fueled his frustration. He began to pace, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "Sacrifices? Is that what we're calling it now? Throwing away the betrothal made in honor of my brother’s heirship, everything we've planned for years, all for the sake of some lord's support?"

"It's not just some lord," Baela reminded him. "It's the key to holding the Vale. Without it–"

"I know it!" Jace snapped, immediately regretting his harsh tone. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "I know what is at stake, Baela. But it is unfair."

Baela stepped closer, her eyes full of understanding and a pain that mirrored his own. "Our duty is to our family, to the realm. Personal happiness... it is a luxury we can't afford right now."

Jacaerys felt the fight drain out of him, replaced by a bone-deep weariness. 

Baela reached out, taking his hand in hers. Her touch was warm, familiar, and Jace had to resist the urge to pull her close and never let go. Jacaerys looked at her, marveling at her strength, her composure in the face of this devastating news. 

"How can you be so calm about this?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

A sad smile played at the corners of Baela's lips. "Because one of us has to be," she said. "And because I've always known that our duty might ask this of us one day. It doesn't make it easier, but... I've had time to prepare myself for the possibility."

Jace felt a wave of shame wash over him. Here he was, raging against the unfairness of it all, while Baela faced their shared loss with grace and dignity. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I should be stronger. Like you."

Baela shook her head, squeezing his hand. "You are strong, Jace. But it's alright to be angry, to be hurt. Just... don't let it consume you. The realm needs you. Your mother needs you."

Jace felt a swell of admiration for her, mixed with a deep, aching sorrow for what they were losing. "I don't know if I can do this without you," he admitted.

Baela's expression softened. She reached up, cupping his cheek in her hand. "You can," she assured him. "You must. And I'll be here, Jace. Not as your wife, but as your cousin, your friend, your ally. That will never change."

For a long moment, they stood there, the weight of their shared past and the uncertain future hanging between them. Then, slowly, Jace nodded. "I must ready for my betrothed’s arrival, then.”

The new use of the word felt bitter against his tongue, eyes refusing to meet Baela’s as he uttered the words. 

Jacaerys took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders. He knew Baela was right. It was time to face his duty, no matter how much it hurt. With one last look at the woman he had thought would be his future, he turned and walked out of the dragon pit.

The days leading up to Lord Redfort's arrival passed in a blur of mounting tension and barely contained dread for Jacaerys. Each morning, he woke with a heavy heart, the weight of his impending duty pressing down on him like a tangible force. His chambers, usually a sanctuary, felt more like a prison, the stone walls closing in as he counted down the days to the fateful meeting.

He threw himself into his work, training with his sword until his muscles ached and his mind was numb. The clashing of steel, the grunts of exertion, and the rhythm of his footwork became his solace until his hands bled in show of his efforts. But no matter how fiercely he fought, the looming reality of his betrothal was inescapable. His sparring partners, sensing his turmoil, gave him space, their concerned glances only serving to deepen his isolation.

Meals were equally oppressive. The great hall buzzed with whispered conversations and furtive looks. Jacaerys ate in silence, his appetite waning with each passing day. His brothers tried to cheer him with tales of their latest exploits, but their words fell flat, unable to penetrate the fog of his thoughts. Even the usually boisterous presence of his dragon, Vermax, did little to lift his spirits. The bond they shared felt strained, as if the beast sensed his master's inner turmoil.

The evenings were the hardest. As the castle settled into a quiet lull, Jacaerys found himself wandering the halls, seeking solace in familiar places. He often ended up in the dragon pit, watching the majestic creatures in their pens. Baela was always there, her presence a bittersweet comfort. They spoke little, their shared silence a testament to the unspoken pain that lingered between them. Yet he felt as if their bond had not changed one bit.

Often, Baela approached him. Her face was always serene, but her eyes held a sadness that mirrored his own. “This... brooding will only make things harder." she’d tell him. And everytime Jacaerys would nod and mumble about understanding what his duty is. 

Her words, though comforting, did little to ease the ache in his heart. He’d squeeze her hand in silent gratitude, then turn away, retreating to the solitude of his chambers. Sleep was elusive, his dreams haunted by visions of a future that now seemed out of reach.

————

The fortnight passed agonizingly slowly, each day blending into the next. The castle was a hive of activity, preparations for Lord Redfort's arrival consuming everyone's attention. Jacaerys found himself caught in a whirlwind of fittings, rehearsals, and diplomatic meetings. His mother, ever the strategist, drilled into him the importance of this alliance, reminding him of the stakes with every passing moment.

Finally, the day arrived. The great hall was adorned with banners and finery, the air thick with the scent of fresh flowers and polished armor. Jacaerys stood by his mother's side, his expression a mask of stoic resolve. He fidgeted with his fingers, his chest heaving every time he would steal a glance at Baela, who would simply give him a small smile and a supporting nod. 

As the hours passed, anticipation hung in the air like a heavy fog. Jacaerys stood in the great hall, the weight of his impending duty pressing down upon him. His armor gleamed under the torchlight, a stark contrast to the turmoil within. The arrival of Lord Redfort and his retinue was imminent, each passing moment marked by the echoing footsteps in the corridor beyond.

Rhaenyra, resplendent in her queenly attire, stood beside her son with an air of regal composure that belied the storm of emotions beneath. Her eyes occasionally flicked towards Jacaerys, a silent reassurance amidst the grand preparations, but he didn’t meet her gaze. The hall buzzed with whispered conversations and the rustle of silk as courtiers and advisors moved about, ensuring everything was perfect for the crucial meeting.

At last, the doors swung open with a resounding thud, and Lord Redfort entered with measured steps as the maesters announced his name and title. His presence commanded attention – a high lord of the Vale, his face weathered by years of governance and warfare. You walked beside him, your features bore a striking resemblance to your father. Your eyes, however, betrayed a hint of nervousness and curiosity as you glanced around the hall before settling on his.

Jacaerys's heart skipped a beat as his eyes met yours for the first time. You were beautiful, with cascading hair and a determined set to your jaw that spoke of your noble upbringing. He knew your name but little else. And yet, he knew you were not Baela. 

Lord Redfort approached Queen Rhaenyra with a deep bow, which she acknowledged with a nod. 

Your gaze finally settled on the figures at the far end of the hall – Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, regal and formidable, and beside her, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon. Your breath caught in your throat as you studied your betrothed. He was everything the stories had claimed – tall and handsome, with the striking features of his bloodline. But there was something else, a tension in his stance, a heaviness in his eyes that spoke of inner turmoil.

As your father bowed to the Queen, you sank into a deep curtsy, willing your voice to remain steady as you spoke. "Your Grace, Prince Jacaerys," you said, "It is an honor to be welcomed to Dragonstone."

Queen Rhaenyra's voice was warm but tinged with an underlying steel as she replied, "We are most pleased to welcome you and your father, Lady Y/n. Your presence here marks a new chapter in the alliance between our houses."

You rose from your curtsy, your eyes meeting Jacaerys's once more. His mother turned to look at him, urging him to speak. For a fleeting moment, you thought you saw a flicker of curiosity in his gaze, quickly masked by the cool formality of his response. 

"The honor is ours, we hope you find Dragonstone to your liking."

You couldn't help but notice the way Jacaerys's gaze occasionally drifted to a silver-haired young woman standing off to the side. The look they shared spoke volumes – a mixture of pain, resignation, and something deeper that made your heart sink. This, you realized, must be Lady Baela, the woman who had held your betrothed's heart until duty tore them apart.

The weight of the situation settled more heavily upon you. The challenge before you seemed insurmountable – to win the trust, perhaps even the affection, of a man whose heart clearly belonged to another.

You gazed up to your father, his serious expression settled on the Queen, arms stiffly linked and resting on his chest. “I assume my wishes were clear, Your Grace. I do not wish to impose but…”

“They were, Lord Redfort. And I assure you, your proposal is being given the utmost consideration.”

Jace’s eyes flickered to yours for a moment, his expression almost unreadable as he blinked at you, trying to gauge your own thoughts on the matter. You inhaled deeply as his eyes moved to Baela’s once again, you followed his train of sight.

Baela’s chest tightened once your eyes met, yours apologetic and Jacaerys’ hurt.

As the negotiations drew to a close, Queen Rhaenyra announced the betrothal formally. "Let it be known," she proclaimed, her voice carrying authority and finality, "that Prince Jacaerys Velaryon and Lady Y/n Redfort are betrothed in the sight of gods and men."

The words hung in the air, sealing the fate of all involved. Jacaerys glanced at you, his eyes conflicted yet resigned. You offered him a small, sympathetic smile, understanding the weight he carried upon his shoulders. He simply offered a tight-lipped smile before he followed after his mother.

Baela’s eyes traced his path down the hall, a sigh escaping her lips as she approached you. “I will walk you to your chambers, let you settle in properly.”

As you walked with Baela through the corridors of Dragonstone, her presence was a calming influence amidst the turmoil swirling within you. The castle walls seemed to echo with the weight of the recent betrothal announcement, yet Baela's gentle demeanor offered a brief respite from the tension.

"I hope your journey here was not too arduous, Lady Y/n," Baela said softly, her voice carrying a genuine concern.

You nodded, grateful for her kindness. "It was quite pleasant… I still have to get acquainted with the change of weather, though.”

She moved to link her arm with yours, the gesture surprised you, awaiting resentment and coldness from her after the broken betrothal between her and the prince. 

"Dragonstone can be quite humid to newcomers", Baela continued as she led you through the winding corridors of Dragonstone. Her touch was reassuring, her smile sincere.

"You'll find the climate more forgiving as you settle in," she assured you, her voice gentle. "It takes some time to get used to the island's rhythms, but there's a beauty to it once you do."

Her words offered a small measure of comfort amidst the uncertainty. You glanced at her, noting the resilience in her demeanor despite the obvious sadness in her eyes. "Thank you, Lady Baela," you said sincerely. "I appreciate your kindness."

Baela smiled softly. "Please, call me Baela.”

As you walked alongside Baela through the corridors of Dragonstone, her arm linked with yours, you couldn't help but marvel at her composure. Here was a woman who had just lost her betrothal to the man you were now set to marry, yet she showed you nothing but kindness and understanding.

"Baela," you said softly, testing the name on your lips. It felt strange to address her so familiarly, given the circumstances, but her gentle demeanor made it feel right somehow.

She glanced at you, her silver-gold hair catching the torchlight as she smiled warmly. "Yes?"

"I hope... I hope we can be allies," you said earnestly, “Despite the circumstances.”

Baela's expression softened, a mix of understanding and gentle sadness in her eyes. She squeezed your arm lightly, her touch reassuring.

"Of course we can," she said, her voice warm. "In fact, I hope we can be more than just allies. Friends, even. We're in this together, after all, as family."

You felt a wave of relief wash over you at her words. The tension that had been building in your chest since your arrival began to ease slightly.

"I'm glad," you admitted. "I was worried... well, given the situation..."

Baela shook her head, a rueful smile playing at her lips. "The circumstances are what they are. We can't change them, but we can choose how we respond to them. And I choose to see you as a friend, not a rival."

She stopped in front of two big wooden doors, thick and heavy at the sight. “Here we are,” she said, reaching for the handles before getting interrupted by one of the handmaids.

“Allow me, Lady Baela.” the girl mumbled, pushing open the doors before you. 

As the heavy wooden doors swung open, you were greeted by a spacious chamber bathed in warm candlelight. The room was adorned with rich tapestries depicting dragons in flight, their colors muted yet regal. A large four-poster bed dominated one wall, its dark wood intricately carved with scales and flames.

"These will be your chambers," Baela said, gesturing for you to enter. "I hope you'll find them comfortable."

You stepped inside, your eyes wide as you took in your new surroundings. A writing desk stood near a window overlooking the sea, and a cozy sitting area with plush chairs was arranged before a hearth. Everything spoke of luxury and careful craftsmanship.

"It's beautiful," you breathed, turning to Baela with genuine appreciation. 

Baela smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "The servants have already unpacked your belongings," she said, gesturing to a trunk at the foot of the bed. "But if you need anything else, don't hesitate to ask."

You nodded, your fingers trailing over the smooth surface of a nearby table. "Thank you, Baela."

She stepped closer, her expression serious. "I know this can't be easy for you," she said softly. "Coming to a new place, betrothed to a man you don't know, in the middle of a war. But if you ever need someone to converse with, simply ask for my presence and I shall come to you."

With a final nod, she departed, leaving you alone in your new chambers. As the door closed behind her, you let out a long, shaky breath, the events of the day finally catching up with you.

As you settled into your new chambers, the weight of the day's events began to sink in. The journey from the Vale, the formal introductions, the palpable tension in the great hall – it all swirled in your mind like a tempest. You sank onto the edge of the bed, your fingers tracing the intricate patterns carved into the wooden frame.

Your thoughts drifted to Prince Jacaerys. His handsome features were etched in your memory, but it was the sadness in his eyes that truly captured your attention. You had known, of course, about his previous betrothal to Lady Baela. It was common knowledge throughout the Seven Kingdoms. But seeing the pain etched on both their faces made the reality of the situation hit home.

A soft knock at the door startled you from your reverie. "Come in," you called, smoothing your skirts as you stood.

A young handmaid entered, carrying a tray laden with food and a steaming pot of tea. "Begging your pardon, m'lady," she said with a curtsy. "Queen Rhaenyra thought you might prefer to dine in your chambers this evening, to rest from your journey."

You nodded, grateful for the consideration. "Thank you," you said softly. "Please convey my gratitude to Her Grace."

As the handmaid set up the meal on a small table near the window, you found yourself drawn to the view outside. Dragonstone was unlike anything you had ever seen. The castle seemed to grow out of the very rock of the island, its towers reaching towards the sky like the necks of the dragons it was named for. In the fading light of day, you could see the churning sea beyond, its waves crashing against the rocky shore.

"Will there be anything else, my lady?" the handmaid asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

You turned, offering her a small smile. "No, thank you. That will be all."

As the door closed behind her, you were once again left alone with your thoughts. You picked at the food, your appetite diminished by the swirling emotions within you. The tea, at least, was a comfort, its warmth spreading through you as you sipped.

Your mind wandered to the task ahead of you. How were you supposed to forge a connection with a man whose heart clearly belonged to another? The political implications of this marriage weighed heavily on your shoulders. Your father's expectations, the need for this alliance to succeed – it all seemed impossibly daunting.

You’d heard all about the making of a babe, about lust and love, you’d read all about it. But the thought of bearing the babe of a man in love with another made your stomach turn, making your throat tighten. 

—————

The next morning dawned bright and clear, the sun's rays filtering through the windows of your chamber. You rose early, determined to start this new chapter of your life with purpose. As you dressed, choosing a gown in the deep red and white of your house, you steeled yourself for the day ahead.

A knock at your door announced the arrival of a servant, there to get you into your skirts and come to escort you to breakfast. As you made your way through the winding halls of Dragonstone, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of nervousness in your stomach. 

The great hall was already bustling with activity when you arrived. Queen Rhaenyra sat at the high table, deep in conversation with her advisors. Your eyes scanned the room, finally landing on Prince Jacaerys, seated at a smaller table with his siblings.

Taking a deep breath, you approached. "Good morning, Your Grace," you said, dipping into a curtsy. "I hope I'm not intruding."

Jacaerys looked up, surprise flickering across his features before he schooled his expression into one of polite neutrality. "My lady," he said, rising to his feet. "Please, join us."

As you took the seat he offered, you couldn't help but notice the curious glances from his younger brothers. Joffrey, the middle child, offered you a friendly smile, while the younger kids regarded you with wide-eyed wonder.

"Did you sleep well?" Jacaerys asked, his tone formal but not unkind.

You nodded, offering a small smile. "I did, thank you. The chambers are lovely."

An awkward silence fell over the table, broken only by the clatter of cutlery and the low hum of conversation from the surrounding tables. You busied yourself with your breakfast, stealing glances at Jacaerys when you thought he wasn't looking.

He seemed distracted, his gaze often drifting to the far side of the hall where Lady Baela’s seat was empty, next to her siste’s Rhaena. Each time, a flicker of pain would cross his face before he caught himself and returned his attention to his meal.

"Is it true you can ride a horse as well as any knight?" little Joffrey suddenly piped up, his eyes bright with curiosity as he stared up at you, his small hand reaching for your skirts before Jace pulled it away.

You blinked, surprised by the question. "I... yes, I suppose I can," you replied, a genuine smile tugging at your lips. "My father insisted I learn from a young age."

"That's amazing!" he exclaimed, leaning forward eagerly. "Can you teach me? Jace is always too busy."

Jacaerys shifted uncomfortably, but you saw an opportunity to bridge the awkward gap between you.

"I'd be happy to," you said, your smile widening. "If it's alright with your brother, of course."

For the first time that morning, Jacaerys met your gaze directly. Something akin to gratitude flickered in his eyes. "That would be... kind of you," he said softly.

Silence filled the air once again, awkward glances shared between you and Jacaerys as he quietly picked at his plate. 

As the uncomfortable silence stretched, the door to the great hall creaked open, drawing everyone's attention. Lady Baela entered, her graceful presence immediately commanding the room. 

Jacaerys's eyes lit up momentarily as he watched her approach, but the flicker of hope was quickly replaced by the familiar sadness. Baela's eyes scanned the room, locking onto his for a heartbeat before shifting to you. A small, serene smile graced her lips as she made her way to your table.

"Good morrow," she greeted, her voice as warm as the morning sun streaming through the windows. 

Baela took a seat beside you, her presence a soothing balm to the tension in the air. She nodded to Jacaerys, lingering their locked gaze in silence, before turning her attention to you.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked, her tone genuinely concerned.

"I did, thank you," you replied, a genuine smile tugging at your lips. "The chambers are lovely."

Baela's smile widened. "I'm glad to hear that. Have you had time to explore the place?"

You straightened your back, glancing at your betrothed and then back to her. You shook your head. "No, I haven't had the chance yet," you admitted, trying to keep your voice light.

Baela's eyes sparkled with genuine enthusiasm. "Then it's settled. I'll give you a tour after breakfast. There are some wonderful places I think you'll enjoy."

Jacaerys felt a surge of confusion as he watched Baela's calm and cheerful demeanor. Her willingness to extend kindness and camaraderie to you, the woman set to marry the man she once loved, was baffling. He had expected resentment, anger, or at least some form of cold distance. Instead, Baela seemed genuinely at ease, her smile unwavering.

His thoughts churned as he tried to make sense of her behavior. Was she truly alright with the broken betrothal, or was this a mask she wore to hide her pain? Jacaerys couldn't tell. He stole a glance at you, noting the slight relaxation in your posture as you engaged with Baela. The two of you seemed to connect in a way he hadn't anticipated. 

Baela's strength had always been a source of comfort, but now it felt like a reminder of his own perceived weakness. His own frustration clouding his judgment as hers only brought her closer to you.

Breakfast continued, the conversations light and courteous. You and Baela exchanged pleasantries about Dragonstone's architecture, its history, and its dragons. Joffrey's enthusiasm brightened the table as he peppered you with questions about the Vale and your life there. Jacaerys found himself mostly silent, observing the dynamic between you and Baela as he ate small bites of his food, dreading his leave. 

When the meal concluded, Baela rose from her seat, her eyes meeting Jace’s. "I hope you'll join us on the tour, Jace," she said softly, her voice holding a note of encouragement.

Jacaerys hesitated, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He glanced at you, noting the hopeful glimmer in your eyes, then back at Baela, who was giving him a look, telling him to go. Taking a deep breath, he cleared his throat. 

“If I am not busy, yes.”

Again, with linked arms, Baela urged her twin to join you both as she talked your ear off about the halls. Rhaena quickly following suit and giving you a polite smile. 

As Baela led you away for the tour, Jacaerys remained behind, his expression conflicted. He watched as you disappeared around a corner, arm-in-arm with Baela and Rhaena. A moment passed before he made his decision, quietly following at a distance.

Throughout the tour, Jacaerys kept to the shadows, observing the easy rapport developing between you and Baela. His brow furrowed as he watched Baela's animated gestures, her warm smiles, and your growing comfort in her presence. The lack of tension or resentment between you both stirred a complicated mix of emotions within him. He watched you laugh, hand holding onto Rhaena as she pointed at the dragon pit.

As the day wore on and you retired to your chambers, Jacaerys found himself restless, pacing the halls of Dragonstone. The sun had long since set when he finally sought out Baela, his emotions simmering beneath the surface.

You were about to drift off to sleep when muffled voices from the corridor caught your attention. Curiosity piqued, you crept to the door, quietly prying it open, the voices getting clearer.

"How can you be so... so accepting about all of this?" Jacaerys' voice, usually so controlled, trembled with barely contained frustration.

"What would you have me do, Jace?" Baela's response was measured, but there was an edge to her tone. "Treat her unkindly? Refuse to acknowledge her presence?"

"No, of course not, but..." Jacaerys faltered. "You act as if nothing has changed. As if our betrothal wasn't just shattered for the sake of politics less than two days ago."

There was a pause, and when Baela spoke again, her voice was softer. "Everything has changed, Jace. But that doesn't mean we must let bitterness consume us. She is not to blame for this situation."

"I know that," Jacaerys snapped, then sighed heavily, you could hear his frustration. "I know. But seeing you with her, so friendly, so at ease... it's like you don't even care that we're no longer..."

"Don't," Baela's voice was sharp now. "Don't you dare suggest that I don't care. We both knew our duty might require sacrifices. I'm choosing to face this with grace, for all our sakes."

"And I'm just supposed to accept that? To watch you befriend the woman I'm being forced to marry, while my heart..." Jacaerys's voice broke off.

"Your heart will heal, Jace," Baela said gently. "As will mine. But we must give it time, and we must not punish Lady Y/n for circumstances beyond her control."

The silence that followed was heavy. You held your breath, straining to hear more.

"I don't know if I can do that, Baela," Jacaerys finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You can," Baela assured him. "And who knows? Perhaps in time, you might find that Lady Y/n..."

"Don't," Jacaerys cut her off. "Please, just... don't. I could never."

You heard footsteps retreating, growing fainter until they disappeared entirely. Slowly, you backed away from the door, your mind reeling from what you'd overheard.

As you stood there, hidden in the shadows of the corridor, your heart sank with each word that passed between Jacaerys and Baela. Guilt gnawed at you, a bitter realization settling in your chest. You hadn’t intended to eavesdrop, but now you couldn’t ignore the raw emotions laid bare before you.

Jacaerys’s voice, tinged with frustration and hurt, echoed in your mind. His words stung deeply, cutting through the uncertainty that had clouded your thoughts since arriving at Dragonstone.

Any chance of him growing comfortable, even forming an attachment to you, vanished before your eyes at his words. 

Locking the door, you sat on your bed, knees to your chest as you felt your breathing break its steady pace. The rawness of Jacaerys's emotions and his adamant refusal to even consider the possibility of developing feelings for you left a hollow ache in your chest.

Rising from your bed, you moved to the window, gazing out at the rocky shores of Dragonstone. The sea churned restlessly, mirroring the turmoil in your heart. You had known this marriage was born of political necessity, but hearing Jacaerys's words had driven home the reality of your situation in a way nothing else could have.

A soft knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. "Come in," you called, turning from the window.

Baela entered, her silver-gold hair catching the soft candle light. Her lips faltered as she took in your drawn expression. "I did not know you were awake."

For a moment, you considered confessing what you'd overheard, but something held you back. Instead, you forced a small smile. "Just a restless night," you said. "I'm still adjusting to the sound of the waves, I suppose."

Baela's eyes searched your face, and you got the sense she didn't quite believe you. But she didn't press the issue. “I… I cannot find sleep either, I figured I’d come to see how you’re holding up with your stay.”

As you looked closer at Baela in the dim candlelight, you noticed the telltale signs of recent tears. Her eyes were slightly puffy and rimmed with red, and there was a lingering sadness in her expression that she couldn't quite hide. Her usually perfect composure seemed fragile, as if it might crack at any moment. 

Baela's shoulders were slumped ever so slightly, betraying a weariness that went beyond mere physical exhaustion. Her fingers fidgeted with the sleeve of her nightgown, a nervous gesture that spoke volumes about her emotional state. Despite her attempt at a smile, there was a vulnerability in her gaze that tugged at your heart.

In that moment, you realized that Baela wasn't just here to check on you – she was seeking comfort and companionship herself. The strong, graceful woman who had been your guide and support since your arrival now looked like she desperately needed a friend.

You took two steps towards her, offering your hand, which she hesitantly took, and guiding her to sit on the edge of your bed. 

For a while, neither of you spoke. You sensed Baela struggling to maintain her composure, her facade of strength cracking ever so slightly. Her shoulders trembled imperceptibly, a telltale sign of the storm raging within.

Without a word, you moved closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Baela stiffened at first, surprised by your gesture, but then she leaned into your touch, a silent admission of her vulnerability.

“I’m sorry,” you spoke, “I do not wish for your burden.”

"It's not your burden to bear," Baela whispered hoarsely, her voice thick with emotion. "None of this is your fault. Jace is just… still adjusting to the idea."

Baela remained silent for a long moment, her gaze distant. Her fingers traced the intricate embroidery on her sleeve, a nervous habit betraying her inner turmoil.

"I've known Jace my whole life," Baela began softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "We grew up together, shared dreams of the future, of ruling Dragonstone side by side. Our betrothal... it felt like destiny."

You tightened your embrace, offering silent support as Baela's voice wavered and your guilt only grew in your chest. She leaned into you, seeking solace in your presence.

"I care for him, Y/n," Baela admitted, her voice trembling with unspoken emotion. "And seeing him in pain... knowing that our future together is no longer possible... I can't bear it."

Tears welled up in Baela's eyes once more, and this time she didn't hold them back. They flowed freely, silent rivulets down her cheeks, marking the depth of her sorrow.

"I would rather see him find happiness with you," Baela confessed in a choked whisper, her words heavy with resignation. "Than watch him cling to a love that can never be. He deserves that much, after everything. He deserves a love that is possible, that is as just and fair as it is real."

Her admission hung in the air between you, a bittersweet revelation tinged with heartache. You squeezed her hand gently, your own heart heavy with empathy for her plight. You watched as she curled up to the sheets of your bed, breathing steadying as she let sleep take over her. 

You tried to push away the guilt that threatened to overwhelm you. After all, you hadn’t asked for this betrothal any more than Jacaerys or Baela had asked for their separation. Yet, here you were, caught in the middle of their lingering emotions and unspoken regrets.

—————

The following weeks unfolded in a haze of polite interactions and strained attempts at forging connections. You accompanied Jacaerys to meetings and gatherings, each moment underscored by the awkward tension that hung between you. His gaze, when it met yours, was distant and guarded, a far cry from the warmth you had hoped to find.

Meanwhile, Baela remained a steady presence in your life. She showed you the hidden corners of Dragonstone, regaled you with stories of its history, and offered quiet words of encouragement when doubt threatened to consume you. Her kindness was a lifeline amidst the uncertainty that gripped your heart.

Still, you couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider in your own betrothal. Every smile from Jacaerys felt forced, every conversation a careful dance around the unspoken truths that loomed between you. You wondered if he saw you as a reminder of what could have been, or if he simply saw you at all.

Jace and Baela kept their distance, exchanging lingering stares, finding comfort in each other but maintaining their bond as a friendship, an impossible love threatened by duty.

You felt like a young girl with a crush on a soldier, as Rhaena and Baela attempted to bring Jacaerys closer to you. Yet, it ate at you that Baela tried to conceal her own feelings to prioritize yours and Jace's.

You found solace in unexpected places. Young Joffrey had taken to following you around the castle, bombarding you with questions about the Vale and begging for horse-riding lessons. His innocent enthusiasm was a balm to your troubled heart, and you found yourself looking forward to the time you spent with him.

One crisp morning, as you were brushing down your horse in the stables, Joffrey came bounding in, his face flushed with excitement.

"Please!" he called out, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste as he ran little steps towards you. He joined his hands in a plea. "Can we go riding today? Please?"

You couldn't help but smile at his eagerness. 

Jace watched from the courtyard. His expression was unreadable, but for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something in his eyes – curiosity, perhaps, or a hint of softness.

The moment passed quickly as he turned away, leaving you to wonder if you had imagined it. Pushing the thought aside, you focused on guiding Joffrey through his riding lesson. With a hand on his lower back, holding his upwards, and another holding onto the leather leash, you guided the excited child through the gardens.

As you guided Joffrey's pony through the gardens, the younger prince's laughter filled the air. 

"Look!" Joffrey exclaimed, pointing excitedly at a butterfly fluttering past. "Can we chase it?"

You chuckled, gently reining in his excitement. "Remember, my prince, we must always be gentle with creatures smaller than us. Let's watch it instead, shall we?"

As you stood there, Joffrey perched atop his pony and you by his side, observing the delicate dance of the butterfly, you felt a presence behind you. Turning slightly, you saw Jacaerys approaching, his steps hesitant but purposeful.

"Having fun, Joff?" he asked, ruffling his younger brother's hair affectionately.

Joffrey beamed at his older brother, reaching to hold his hand, almost tumbling off of the animal’s loin. "She is teaching me to ride, Jace! She says I'll be as good as you one day!"

A small smile tugged at Jacaerys's lips. "Is that so?" He turned his gaze to you, something unreadable in his eyes. "You're good with him."

You felt a warmth creep into your cheeks at his words. "He makes it easy," you replied softly. "He's a quick learner."

Joffrey huffed as he tugged on the leather leash in your hands, “When will I be allowed to ride on my own?”

Jace let out a soft laugh, the sound unexpected and somehow comforting. "In time, Joff. You need to master the basics first."

The younger boy pouted but didn't argue, his attention quickly drawn back to the butterfly that had settled on a nearby flower.

You looked at Jacaerys, noticing the shadows under his eyes, the lines of stress etched into his handsome features. The brief moments of kindness he had shown you lately had been few and far between, but they gave you a glimmer of hope.

"Would you like to join us?" you asked tentatively, unsure of how he would respond.

Jacaerys hesitated, glancing between you and Joffrey. Finally, he nodded, a small, reluctant smile on his lips. "I could use a break from all the meetings."

As the three of you walked through the gardens, the tension between you and Jacaerys seemed to ease, replaced by a tentative camaraderie. Joffrey chattered on about the lessons you had been giving him, his enthusiasm infectious.

You caught Jacaerys stealing glances at you, his expression softer than you had ever seen it. It was as if the presence of his younger brother had created a bridge between you, allowing him to lower his guard just a little.

Sadly, he’d stayed quiet the whole time, only nodding along and responding to his brother’s enthusiasm. 

For a moment, the three of you stood there in comfortable silence, watching as Joffrey tentatively guided his pony a few steps forward. You fixed your skirts, arms dropping to your side as the small prince struggled to get down from the pony, refusing to get any help. Then, to your surprise, Jacaerys spoke again.

"I... I was wondering if you might like to join me for a ride later," he said, his voice low enough that Joffrey couldn't hear. "There's a cove on the far side of the island that's quite beautiful at night."

Your heart skipped a beat at his invitation. "I'd like that," you replied, offering him a small smile.

As Jacaerys nodded and turned to leave, you caught sight of Baela watching from a nearby balcony. Her expression turned into a supportive smile when she noticed your gaze. The guilt that had become your constant companion surged once more.

Later that evening, as you prepared for your ride with Jacaerys, Baela appeared at your chamber door.

"Here," she said, holding out a cloak with a smile. "The winds can be fierce near the cove. You'll need this."

As you accepted the cloak, your fingers brushed hers. "Baela," you began, your voice thick with emotion. "I–"

She shook her head, cutting you off. "Don't," she said softly. “Jace is trying, give him a chance."

“Baela,” you began again, your voice softer this time, “I just don’t want to hurt you more than I already have. I’m trying to understand where we all fit into this... tangled mess.”

She shook her head, “I feel no pain if you and Jace are well.”

"But I don't want you to feel like you're losing something," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Baela's expression softened, a small, sad smile gracing her lips. "Jace and I... we were a dream of what could have been. But dreams change. Life moves on, and so must we. I can't hold onto something that was never meant to be."

You nodded, feeling a mixture of gratitude and sorrow. "Thank you," you whispered, unable to find the words to express the depth of your appreciation.

Baela squeezed your hand one last time before letting go. "Go," she urged. "Don't keep him waiting."

With a heavy heart, you draped the cloak around your shoulders and made your way to the stables where Jacaerys was waiting. The night air was cool and crisp, just like Baela had said, the stars twinkling like distant beacons of hope in the inky sky. 

Jacaerys stood by his horse, his figure silhouetted against the faint light of the torches. His expression was thoughtful, almost pensive, as he glanced up at the sky. When he noticed your approach, his eyes softened slightly, almost as if he had been trying to get his mind ready.

The moonlight cast a silver sheen on his dark hair, lending him an almost ethereal quality. 

“I forgot to tell you to get a cloak,” he said, quickly noticing the cloth that covered your body, “you must have read my mind."

"Baela thought of it," you replied, mounting your horse. Jacaerys tried to hide the frown that appeared on his face for a second. The saddle creaked beneath you, and you patted the horse's neck, feeling its warmth through the leather gloves.

Why would Baela want to push him into another woman’s arms? The question echoed in his mind, gnawing at his thoughts like a persistent itch. 

Jacaerys’s thoughts churned beneath his calm exterior. Why was Baela so insistent on pushing him toward you? He glanced sideways at you, taking in the soft glow of the moonlight on your face, the way you seemed lost in your own thoughts. There was a delicate vulnerability about you, a quiet strength that he couldn’t quite grasp.

You rode in silence for a while, the rhythmic clopping of hooves and the distant roar of the sea the only sounds breaking the night. 

His gaze flickered over to you again. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly as he noticed your serene demeanor, your focus entirely on the path ahead. He couldn’t deny that there was something about you that stirred a part of him he thought was long dormant – a hope for something genuine amidst the political maneuvering and familial obligations.

Breaking the silence, Jacaerys spoke, his voice carrying a note of curiosity he couldn’t completely mask. “You seem at ease. Is the ride helping you clear your mind?”

You glanced over at him, the soft glow from your lantern casting a gentle light on your face. “It is,” you said, offering a small, genuine smile. “I don’t have siblings, like you do. I didn’t have much to be entertained by, growing up. I found solace in rides like this”

Jacaerys nodded, his curiosity piqued. "What else did you do to pass the time?" he asked, his voice softer than usual.

You chuckled, a hint of mischief in your eyes. "I used to sneak out to watch the soldiers train in the courtyard."

Jacaerys raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Is that so?"

You nodded, warming to the subject. "Oh yes. When I was too bored to read I would hide behind the barrels near the training yard and watch the men practice their swordplay."

"Did you ever try it yourself?" Jacaerys asked, genuine interest in his voice.

You laughed softly. "I did, actually. I'd sneak a wooden practice sword from the armory and try to mimic their movements in secret. I must have looked ridiculous, flailing about in my chambers."

Jacaerys let out a low chuckle, the sound warming you more than the cloak around your shoulders. "I can picture it," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Did you ever get caught?"

"Once," you admitted, a blush creeping into your cheeks. "My father walked in just as I was attempting a particularly dramatic lunge. I nearly toppled into my dressing table."

Jacaerys laughed outright at that, the sound echoing in the night air. It was the first time you'd heard him laugh so freely, and the sound made your heart skip a beat.

"What did your father say?" he asked, still smiling.

You sighed dramatically, "He was scandalized, of course. Grounded me from sneaking past the courtyard for life.”

As your horses ambled along the moonlit path, Jacaerys's laughter subsided into a warm smile. You loved the sound, you realized, not having heard it often because of you, moreso because of his family.

 "Well, if you're still interested in watching swordplay, you're welcome to observe our training sessions here on Dragonstone. No need for sneaking or hiding behind barrels."

You felt a flutter of excitement at his offer. "Really? You wouldn't mind?"

Jacaerys shook his head, his expression softening. "Not at all. In fact, I think the men here might appreciate having an audience. It tends to make them show off a bit more."

You chuckled, feeling more at ease than you had in weeks. "I'd like that very much. Thank you, Jacaerys."

He nodded, his eyes meeting yours with a warmth that hadn't been there before. 

As the path curved towards the cove, the moonlight bathed the landscape in a silvery glow. The sea's rhythmic waves against the rocky shore provided a soothing backdrop to your thoughts. Jacaerys's earlier curiosity about Baela's motives still lingered in his mind, but for now, he chose to focus on the present moment. There would be time to unravel those thoughts later.

“Um…” you started, unsure whether your question was intrusive or not, Jace’s head turned to look at you again. 

“Yes?”

“I was wondering… about the dragons,” 

Jacaerys's eyes lit up with interest at the mention of dragons. "What would you like to know?" he asked.

“I’ve never seen one up-close.” you felt rather embarrassed as your cheeks flushed, quickly turning your head to look ahead of you as Jacaerys bit back a smile. “Would you like to?”

Your heart quickened at his question, and you met his gaze, your excitement barely contained. "I would love to," you replied, unable to hide the enthusiasm in your voice.

Jacaerys smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "Then it's settled. We'll visit the dragon pit tomorrow. I’ll introduce you to Vermax."

The path towards the cove became narrower, the sea breeze carrying a salty tang that invigorated your senses. Jacaerys's expression held a mixture of amusement and anticipation, the weight of the earlier conversation lifting slightly.

As the cove came into view, bathed in the soft glow of the moon, Jacaerys turned to you, his eyes reflecting the silvery light. "Vermax hatched when I was just a baby," he began, his voice taking on a more personal tone. “We grew together. I am sure he will be kind to you.”

The connection he described stirred something within you. You felt a growing sense of anticipation for the meeting with Vermax, your excitement mingling with a hint of nervousness at the thought of standing near a dragon.

As you reached the edge of the cove, the waves crashed gently against the shore, their rhythmic sound creating a soothing backdrop. You dismounted your horses, your boots sinking slightly into the soft sand. The moonlight cast a silvery sheen over everything, making the scene almost magical.

Even after having spent long in Dragonstone, the cold breeze still hadn’t made peace with you, you held the cloak tighter to your body in hopes of warmth. The chill seemed to seep through the layers, but the beauty of the cove and the company beside you provided a warmth of their own.

Jacaerys led you to a rocky outcrop, a perfect vantage point from which to watch the waves crash and froth against the shoreline. His hand was holding the sleeve of your cloak as he walked you, not ready to hold your hand just yet, Baela still somehow present in his thoughts. 

Jace’s gaze was fixed on the horizon, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. He seemed lost in thought, the earlier conversation about Vermax fading into the backdrop as he wrestled with his own internal conflicts. You could sense the weight of Baela's memory lingering in his mind, an echo of feelings that he was trying to reconcile with the present.

He turned to you, his expression softening. “It’s a beautiful spot, isn’t it? I’ve always found it calming here, away from everything else.”

You hummed, hands going back to pressing the cloak against your shivering body, regretting not having worn more skirts for the night. “It’s beautiful.”

A small smile touched Jacaerys’s lips, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He seemed to be searching for the right words, his usual guarded demeanor giving way to a more introspective side.

“Are you cold?”

“A little, yes. I should’ve worn a thicker dress.”

Jacaerys’s eyes flickered with concern as he took in your shivering form, the chill of the night evidently seeping through your cloak. The warmth of his earlier smile faded into a more serious expression.

“Come with me.” he said, his voice soft with empathy. 

He guided you away from the edge of the cove, leading you towards a more sheltered spot further inland. The sea breeze, though still present, seemed to lose its bite as you moved away from the open shore.

As you walked, Jacaerys began to explain. “The rocks here are a bit more protected from the wind, and they get the heat from the sun during the day, it retains some warmth even at night.”

You followed him, hopeful by the promise of warmth. The path became less rugged and more stable, leading to a small, secluded nook nestled between two large boulders. 

Jacaerys gestured towards the alcove with a reassuring nod. “This spot should be much warmer. It’s better than standing out in the open.”

You stepped into the alcove, trailing behind him, feeling a noticeable difference in temperature. The wind’s bite was indeed diminished, and the moss underfoot felt soothing against your tired feet. The warmth was a welcome relief, and you sighed contentedly as you settled into the corner of the nook.

Jacaerys took a seat beside you, maintaining a respectful distance but close enough to share the modest warmth of the alcove. His gaze softened as he looked at you, his earlier concerns about the chill replaced by a more focused attentiveness.

"Do you miss your home?" Jacaerys asked, breaking the silence, his voice gentle.

You considered his question, your gaze fixed on the horizon. "Sometimes," you admitted. "But I've got good company here."

Jacaerys studied you for a moment, his gaze contemplative. The alcove, with its comforting warmth and shielded position, seemed to offer a haven for both of you – a temporary retreat from the complexities of the world outside.

A faint smile tugged at Jacaerys’s lips as he broke the silence. “Joffrey’s obsessed with you, you know?”

You looked at him, curiosity piqued with a laugh. “Is he?”

Jacaerys nodded, his fingers absently brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “He always talks about you.”

“He’s rather taken with you, I would think.”

You laughed, the sound bright and genuine in the quiet of the alcove. “He’s a very kind child.”

Jacaerys nodded, his expression warm and approving. “He’s always full of stories about you – how kind you are, how brave you seem. It’s quite endearing, really.”

A smile tugged at your lips, “That’s sweet of him.”

There was a comfortable silence between you, the warmth of the alcove cocooning you both in its gentle embrace. The night outside seemed distant, its chill muted by the sanctuary you’d found together.

Jacaerys broke the silence once more, bringing his knees to his chest and staring ahead at the sea. “Baela’s been kind to you,” you couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement so you simply nodded.

“Very, she’s been really welcoming to me,” you replied, trying to match the sincerity of his tone. “I appreciate her kindness more than I can express.”

Jacaerys sighed softly, the sound barely audible above the distant crash of waves.

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments, the warmth of the alcove creating a peaceful setting around you. 

Jacaerys’s mention of Baela lingered between you like a delicate echo, and you could see the concern in his eyes. His gaze remained fixed on the distant horizon, but it was clear he was wrestling with his own emotions.

“You’ve been a good friend to her since you arrived,” Jacaerys said again, his voice soft but edged with a tinge of regret. “I appreciate that more than you know.”

The sincerity of his words struck a chord, and though you had tried to offer comfort, the mention of Baela’s hurt still gnawed at you. You understood that Jacaerys’s feelings were complex, his history with Baela casting a long shadow over the present.

You searched for something comforting to say, but the silence that followed was soothing in its own way. 

Jacaerys shifted slightly, his eyes softening as he glanced at you. “Sometimes it’s hard to balance past connections with the present. I suppose I’ve been struggling with that lately. For that, I apologize.”

“It’s never easy to reconcile what was with what is. I imagine it must be even harder when you care about the people involved.”

He nodded, a wistful smile touching his lips. “You are to be my wife.”

Jace’s admission hung in the air like a fragile, unspoken promise. His gaze held yours, his eyes reflecting a mix of vulnerability and resolve that seemed to shimmer in the soft moonlight. The mention of your forthcoming union brought a new layer of gravity to the conversation, the implications settling heavily between you.

“I know,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Despite the complexities of… my past betrothal, my commitment to you is sincere. I promise to give you a happy marriage. I want to give you a future where you feel valued, cherished, and at peace. As any wife should.”

His words carried a gravity that made your heart flutter. The sincerity in his eyes, combined with the warmth of the alcove, created a moment of shared hope and promise.

Neither of you spoke until the breeze caught up to the warmer spot, indicating the deep hours of the night. “We shall get back. I wouldn’t want you to catch a chill.” he mumbled.

You nodded, the thought of returning to the comfort of the castle appealing after the night’s lingering cold. The promise of a future together still resonated within you, a beacon of warmth amidst the crisp night air.

Jacaerys rose smoothly, offering you a hand as you stood. The gesture was simple but meaningful, a small act of support that spoke volumes to you. His hand was warm against yours, a comforting presence as you prepared to return to the castle. 

Together, you made your way out of the alcove, the cool night air greeting you with a gentle caress as you retraced your steps back to the horses.

The path to the castle was bathed in the soft light of dawn, the horizon beginning to glow with the first hints of morning. He led the way, his presence a reassuring constant beside you as the path darkened, the night making it harder to see. 

Jace offered to guard both of your horses back, while you prepared for your chambers.

As you stepped inside, a lively chatter greeted you, echoing through the stone corridors. Baela and Rhaena, vibrant and full of energy, were waiting for you near the entrance hall. Their faces lit up with excitement, their eyes sparkling with curiosity as they spotted you approaching.

“There you are!” Baela exclaimed, her voice bright and cheerful. She hurried towards you, followed closely by Rhaena, who wore an equally eager expression.

“You’ve been out almost all night,” Rhaena added, her tone filled with a mix of teasing and genuine interest. 

“We took a stroll to the cove,” you said. “It was a peaceful night. We talked, and enjoyed the quiet. It was... pleasant.”

Baela and Rhaena listened intently, their expressions shifting from anticipation to satisfaction. Baela’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she nudged you gently. “I hope Jacaerys was a good companion. We wouldn’t want you to think poorly of Dragonstone just because of a chilly night.”

You chuckled, feeling a blush of warmth spread across your cheeks at the attention. “He was,”

As you walked towards your chamber’s doors, Baela’s excitement seemed almost infectious. Yet, despite the outward cheer, you couldn’t shake a lingering uncertainty. Baela’s reactions were hard to read. 

She turned to you with a smile that seemed almost too perfect. “I’m glad you had a good night, it is important for you two to spend time together.”

Her words were kind, but the subtext felt layered. You couldn’t tell if she was giving her blessing wholeheartedly or if she was still processing her own feelings about Jacaerys. The complexity of their shared past, intertwined with the new future you were all stepping into, made the situation delicate.

As you closed the door behind you, you leaned against it, letting out a long breath. The night had been full of unexpected moments and conflicting emotions. Jacaerys's promise of a happy marriage still echoed in your mind, filling you with hope. Yet, the sadness you'd glimpsed in Baela's eyes reminded you of the complicated web of relationships you'd stepped into.

You changed into your nightgown and slipped into bed, your mind whirling with thoughts of moonlit coves, dragon pits, and the promise of a future yet to unfold.

—————

The next morning dawned bright and clear, the sun's rays streaming through your window and gently rousing you from sleep. As you blinked awake, the events of the previous night came flooding back – the moonlit ride, the intimate conversation with Jacaerys in the alcove, and the promise of meeting Vermax today.

A mix of excitement and nervousness fluttered in your stomach as you rose and began to prepare for the day. You chose a sturdy riding dress, practical yet flattering, and braided your hair to keep it out of your face. As you fastened a cloak around your shoulders, a soft knock sounded at your door.

"Come in," you called, expecting to see one of the handmaids.

Instead, it was Jacaerys who entered, looking slightly hesitant but with a warm smile on his face. His day clothes were already on, a red cape falling from his shoulders.

 "Good morrow," he said softly. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"Not at all," you replied, your heart skipping a beat at his unexpected presence, fingers struggling to tie the cloak’s strings, too focused on him. "I was just getting ready for the day."

Jacaerys nodded, his eyes taking in your attire. “Need help?" he asked. 

You nodded, grateful for the assistance. Jacaerys stepped closer, his fingers deftly working on the cloak's fastenings. The proximity sent a shiver down your spine, and you caught a hint of his scent – a mixture of leather and something uniquely him.

"There," he said softly, stepping back once the cloak was secured. His eyes met yours, a hint of warmth in their depths. 

"I thought perhaps we could break our fast together before we go, if you're amenable?"

His thoughtfulness touched you, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest. "I'd like that very much," you said with a smile.

As you walked together to the great hall, you couldn't help but notice the change in Jacaerys's demeanor. He seemed more relaxed in your presence, the tension that had marked your earlier interactions noticeably diminished. 

The great hall was relatively quiet, with only a few early risers scattered about. Jacaerys led you to a small table near one of the windows, where a spread of fresh bread, fruits, and warm porridge awaited.

"I hope this is to your liking," he said, pulling out a chair for you. "I wasn't sure of your preferences, so I asked for a variety. I hope it isn’t too much."

You sat down, touched by his consideration. "It looks wonderful, thank you."

As you began to eat, a comfortable silence settled between you. Jacaerys seemed lost in thought, his gaze occasionally drifting to the window and the view of the dragon pit in the distance.

"Are you nervous about meeting Vermax?" he asked suddenly, his eyes focusing back on you.

You considered the question, taking a sip of warm tea before answering. "A little," you admitted. "I've never been this close to a dragon before. But I'm more excited than nervous, I think."

Jacaerys smiled, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Vermax can sense emotions, he'll know if you're afraid, but if you remain calm he will be as well."

You nodded, absorbing his words. "I'll do my best to stay calm," you promised. "And I truly am looking forward to meeting him."

Something softened in Jacaerys's expression at your words. He reached across the table, his hand coming to rest lightly on yours. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, and you found yourself lost in his gaze for a moment. The connection between you felt stronger, a fragile bridge being built with each shared moment.

As you finished your meal, Jacaerys stood, offering you his hand. "Shall we?" he asked, a hint of excitement in his voice.

You took his hand, feeling the strength and warmth of his grip. "Lead the way," you said with a smile.

As you made your way through the castle corridors, Jacaerys walking beside you, you couldn't help but notice the curious glances from passing servants and courtiers. It was clear that your outing the previous night had not gone unnoticed, and you felt a flutter of self-consciousness.

Jacaerys seemed to sense your discomfort. "Pay them no mind," he said quietly, his hand briefly touching the small of your back in a gesture of support. "They'll have something new to gossip about by midday."

His touch, though fleeting, sent a warmth through you that lingered even as you stepped out into the crisp morning air. The dragon pit loomed before you, an imposing structure that seemed to dwarf everything around it.

As you approached, you could hear the low rumbles and occasional screeches of the dragons within. Your steps faltered slightly, and Jacaerys paused, turning to face you.

"Are you alright?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

You nodded, forcing a smile. "Just a bit nervous," you admitted.

Jacaerys's expression softened. "It's natural to be nervous," he said. "But Vermax is kind, do not fret."

As you entered the dragon pit, the air grew warmer, filled with the scent of smoke and something distinctly reptilian. Jacaerys led you towards a large pen, where a magnificent creature lay curled up, its scales shimmering in the dim light.

"Vermax," Jacaerys called softly, his voice filled with affection.

The dragon stirred, raising its massive head. Its eyes, intelligent and piercing, fixed upon you, and you felt a moment of panic. But then Jacaerys's hand found yours, squeezing gently in reassurance.

"It's alright," he murmured. "Just breathe. Let him get used to your scent."

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to remain still as Vermax's nostrils flared, taking in your scent. After what felt like an eternity, the dragon let out a low rumble that sounded almost... approving?

Jacaerys smiled, his face lighting up with pride. "He likes you," he said, his voice filled with warmth. "Would you like to touch him?"

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Is that... safe?"

Jacaerys nodded in a chuckle, gently guiding your hand forward. "Just here, along his neck. His scales are warm."

He mumbled words – commands – in High Valyrian, a language that you did not quite understand. As Jacaerys's gentle voice wove through the ancient words, you felt a strange calm wash over you. His hand steadied yours, guiding it towards Vermax's neck. The dragon’s scales were warm, surprisingly smooth, and a thrill of awe coursed through you at the touch.

Vermax's gaze remained fixed on you, but there was no malice in it, only curiosity. Your hand moved slowly, feeling the powerful muscles beneath the creature's skin. The dragon emitted a low, contented rumble, and Jace's smile grew wider.

With trembling fingers, you reached out, gasping softly as your hand made contact with Vermax's humid and warm scales. They were indeed warm, and smoother than you had expected. The dragon rumbled again, the sound reverberating through your entire body.

“There we go,” Jacaerys murmured, watching as Vermax responded to your gentle touch with a low, rumbling purr. It was like nothing you’d ever heard before – a deep resonance that seemed to echo within your very bones. The dragon's presence was overwhelming, a creature of immense power and grace. Yet here, in this moment, it seemed almost… gentle.

Jacaerys stood close beside you, his hand still lightly covering yours, offering reassurance through the contact. The dragon pit was quiet, save for the occasional shifting of massive limbs and the rustling of scales as Vermax settled more comfortably under your touch. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and warm metal, an atmosphere charged with both mystery and excitement. 

"He's magnificent," you breathed, unable to tear your eyes away from the dragon's gleaming eyes, which seemed to hold a world of secrets within them.

Jacaerys watched you, his eyes soft with an emotion you couldn't quite name. "He trusts you," he said quietly. 

He marveled at how quickly Vermax had accepted you, a bond forming almost instantly. In his experience, dragons were fiercely independent creatures, wary of strangers and cautious around those they did not know. The ease with which Vermax had welcomed you was rare, a testament to something intangible that Jacaerys could sense but not quite articulate.

Jacaerys had seen many attempts to win a dragon's favor and fail; it was a delicate dance of trust and mutual respect, often requiring patience and time. Yet here you were, a newcomer to Dragonstone, and Vermax was already responding to you with a gentleness that belied his formidable nature.

Vermax cooed, his big eyes closing as you ran your hand over his scales, Jace’s cautiously hovering over. 

"He really does like you," Jacaerys said, a note of wonder in his voice. "I've never seen him take to someone so quickly."

You looked up at Jacaerys, a smile spreading across your face. "Is that unusual?"

He nodded, his eyes moving between you and Vermax. "Dragons are... particular about who they allow near them. It took some of our most experienced dragon keepers months to gain Vermax's trust to this degree."

A warmth spread through your chest at his words, you turned back to Vermax, continuing to stroke his green scales gently. "Thank you for trusting me," you whispered to the dragon.

Vermax rumbled again, the sound almost like a purr. Jacaerys chuckled softly. 

"Does he understand?” you asked.

"To some extent, yes. He senses your sincerity."

You nodded, absorbing this. The dragon's massive head lowered slightly, its eyes fluttering shut as if enjoying the sensation of your touch. Vermax's breaths came in slow, rhythmic pulses, and you found yourself mirroring them, a sense of calm washing over you. 

“He’s like a pup,” you said, a smile creeping to your face. 

Jacaerys’s laughter was soft, a warm, gentle sound that seemed to blend seamlessly with the low rumbling of Vermax. “That’s a charming way to put it.”

You hummed a laugh, eyes focusing on the beast that grumbled beneath your hand. “Look,” Jace said, pressing his palm against yours to apply more pressure on the dragon’s neck. He moved both of your hands up to the back of the ear, you on your tiptoes as Vermax moved his head down, welcoming the touch. 

Jacaerys applied pressure once again, and the dragon tilted its head, eyes half-closed in a state of pure contentment. 

Jace smiled at the sight, his eyes reflecting a mixture of pride and affection. “He truly enjoys this,” he said, his voice a gentle murmur.

The moment was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. You turned to see Baela entering the dragon pit, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of you and Jacaerys.

She stood near the entrance, her gaze moving from you to Jacaerys and then to Vermax. There was a moment of awkward silence as her eyes took in the intimate scene – you, with your hand resting on the dragon’s neck, Jacaerys close beside you.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, surprised to have found somebody in the dragon pit, usually only the keepers being there. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

Jacaerys’s posture stiffened, his expression slipping into a mask of polite neutrality. He took a step back, his hand reluctantly withdrawing from yours. The warmth of his touch, which had felt so reassuring moments before, was now a memory of something he seemed to regret. 

“You’re not interrupting,” he said, his voice measured, betraying none of the emotions that seemed to ripple just beneath the surface. “We were just… introducing her to Vermax.”

Baela’s eyes flickered to Jacaerys, and for a moment, the weight of their shared history seemed to press down on the space between the three of you. The warmth in Jacaerys’s expression was gone, replaced by a hint of discomfort, as if he were grappling with a conflict of emotions. 

Baela cleared her throat, attempting to bridge the gap. “I came to check on Moondancer and make sure she’s comfortable. I didn’t realize you’d be here.” 

Jacaerys shifted uncomfortably, the strain of his previous joy now visible in the tight set of his shoulders. “I should–” he began, but the words seemed to falter. He cleared his throat and straightened, trying to regain his composure. 

“I should let you be. I’ve taken up enough of your time.” Jace offered a polite, albeit slightly strained, smile as he turned towards you. His eyes held a flicker of something unreadable, a mixture of resignation and lingering affection. "I should take my leave," he said softly, his voice carrying a note of finality. 

You nodded, feeling a pang of disappointment at the abrupt change in mood. "Thank you for introducing me to him," you said, your voice sincere.

Jacaerys’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, a fleeting smile touching his lips before he turned to Baela. "I hope the rest of the day treats you both well."

Baela's expression softened as she watched Jacaerys retreat towards the entrance. As he walked away, the tension in the dragon pit seemed to dissipate, replaced by an air of quiet contentment.

After a beat of silence, she spoke, breaking the awkward moment. Baela’s gaze softened as she approached you, her initial surprise melting into genuine warmth. “I’m truly sorry for intruding,” she said, her tone sincere. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

You smiled softly at Baela, trying to ease the lingering tension in the air. "It's alright, truly. You weren't intruding at all."

Baela approached, her eyes drifting to Vermax, who was still rumbling contentedly. "He seems to have taken a liking to you," she observed, a hint of admiration in her voice.

You glanced back at the dragon, feeling a mixture of awe and affection. "Jacaerys was kind enough to introduce us. I've never been this close to a dragon before, I’m quite nervous."

Baela chuckled softly, her laughter a soothing balm that eased your nerves. “That’s completely understandable,” she said. “The first time I was near Moondancer, I was shaking like a leaf. Dragons can be intimidating. But you handled it with such grace; Vermax is usually more reserved.”

Her words felt like a quiet reassurance, a bridge between your anxieties and the reality of the moment. You could see the sincerity in her eyes, the genuine appreciation she held for this small triumph. It was as if she, too, was celebrating the bond that was beginning to form.

“Jace must have really taken to you,” Baela continued, her eyes twinkling with a knowing smile. 

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at Baela's words, a mixture of pride and embarrassment flushing your cheeks. "He's been very patient with me," you admitted, your eyes drifting back to where Jacaerys had disappeared. "I'm grateful for his kindness."

Baela nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "He's got a gentle touch, that one."

You found yourself curious about the history between Baela and Jacaerys, but hesitated to pry. Instead, you turned your attention back to Vermax, who was still rumbling contentedly nearby. 

A gentle breeze stirred the air in the dragon pit, carrying with it the mingled scents of smoke and dragonhide. You watched as Vermax shifted slightly, his massive tail curling around him in a relaxed pose. The dragon’s contentment was palpable, a testament to the bond forming between you and the creature.

Baela cleared her throat, breaking the tranquil moment. “I should get going to check on Moondancer,” she said, her tone light and cheerful. “I will see you later? For our midday meal.”

You nodded, eyes trailing after her as she walked away from you. The moment with Jacaerys had been special, filled with a blend of tenderness and excitement. His departure had left a lingering sense of something unfinished, a space where his presence had been warm and reassuring. Now, as you stood alone with Vermax, you felt a pang of longing for the ease and connection you’d shared moments before.

You glanced towards the entrance of the dragon pit. Vermax rumbled again, a sound that felt almost like a fond farewell as you turned to leave. 

—————

Days drifted by, each day settling into a rhythm that felt both comforting and, at times, monotonous. Driven by a restless energy, you found yourself drawn to the training yard one afternoon, eager for a distraction from the sameness of your daily routine.

Your eyes were drawn to the center of the yard when you arrived, settling to stand nearby. You watched as knights clashed their swords, a few of them sharpening them and others simply training. Finally, your attention drifted to the grunts and louder sharp sounds that echoed in the air, Jacaerys wore a makeshift armor, only covering his chest and part of his legs as he aimed for the man before him.

There was something different about Jace. His movements were charged with an almost palpable frustration, each strike of his blade carrying a weight of unspoken anger. You watched, entranced and a little concerned, as he danced with his partner, his footwork sure and purposeful.

But then, in a moment that seemed to unfold in slow motion, Jacaerys overreached. The blade slipped from his grasp and turned against him, biting into the flesh of his hand with a viciousness that made you wince. The clang of the sword hitting the ground was like a thunderclap in the sudden silence that followed, every eye in the yard drawn to the prince’s moment of vulnerability.

It wasn't until Jacaerys stumbled back, his sword clattering to the ground, that you realized what had happened.

Jacaerys grimaced, the pain evident in the way he cradled his injured hand. Blood trickled down his fingers, a stark crimson against his pale skin. You felt a sharp pang of concern, your instincts urging you to go to him, to offer aid.

"Your Grace!" The knight exclaimed, rushing forward as Jacaerys clutched his hand to his chest. 

“Stay back.” Jace ordered, a grunt leaving his lips again as he looked down at his bloodied hand. The knight looked around, unsure of what to do.

You watched as Jacaerys waved off the knight, the young prince's eyes blazing with a mix of embarrassment and anger. It was clear that the pain was secondary to the frustration that now simmered beneath his skin, a potent mix of pride and self-reproach that made him bristle at the attention.

He stood, still cradling his hand, and straightened his posture, his expression hardening into one of determination. He nodded at the knights who had turned to look at him, his voice steady despite the obvious pain. “Back to your swords.”

The command seemed to snap the knights out of their shock, and they quickly resumed their practice, the sounds of clashing blades filling the air once more. Jacaerys remained where he was, his breath coming in sharp bursts as he fought to regain his composure.

You hesitated for a moment, torn between respecting his pride and offering the help he clearly needed. But the sight of his bloodied hand, coupled with the raw frustration etched across his features, propelled you forward. You approached him slowly, your footsteps deliberate and unthreatening.

"Jacaerys," you said softly, your voice barely rising above the din of the training yard. He turned to look at you, his eyes meeting yours. There was a distance in his gaze, a barrier that seemed to rise between you, but you pressed on, determined to offer whatever solace you could.

"Let me help you," you offered gently, gesturing to his injured hand. The words hung in the air between you, a lifeline extended across the chasm of his pride.

For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, his gaze dropping to his hand, the blood now drying against his skin. 

"I don't need help," Jacaerys said, his voice clipped and guarded.

"Let me see."

Jacaerys' jaw tightened, a flicker of frustration passing across his features before he sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. He seemed to weigh your words, the conflict evident in his eyes as he considered your offer.

Finally, with a reluctant nod, he extended his injured hand toward you. He avoided looking at you as you held his wrist, moving him to the inside of the castle as blood dripped down his fingers and onto the ground. 

As you led him inside the castle, away from the watchful eyes of the knights, Jacaerys' frustration seemed to simmer beneath the surface, an internal tempest he struggled to control. His movements were rigid, his silence heavy with unspoken words.

The frustration that clouded his mind was more than just about the training. It was a culmination of several things – the complexities of his relationship with Baela, the unease and uncertainty that seemed to seep into his days since you arrived, and the pressures of his own expectations. The training had become his escape, a way to channel his pent-up emotions into something tangible, something he could control.

Your presence now was a stark reminder of that inner storm. The sight of you, coming to his aid with a genuine concern that cut through his self-imposed barriers, only intensified his sense of vulnerability. It was as if your intervention had torn down a carefully constructed wall, exposing the raw nerves he had been trying to shield.

Inside the castle, you guided him to a small room, a quiet space away from the clamor of the training yard. The sunlight filtered through a narrow window, casting a soft glow on the stone walls. You set him down on a bench, your movements deliberate as you prepared to tend to his wound.

With a deep breath, you took his hand gently, the blood now congealing into dark patches against his pale skin. As you cleaned the wound, your touch was steady and soothing, a balm to his troubled mind.

Jacaerys watched you in silence, the weight of his frustration palpable in the tight lines of his face. His eyes, though distant at first, began to soften as you worked. Each brush of your fingers against his skin seemed to draw out some of the tension that had gripped him.

Yet, he refused to speak.

The room remained quiet save for the soft rustling of fabric and the gentle flow of water as you cleaned and bandaged his hand. 

As you finished bandaging his hand, you met his gaze with a soft, reassuring smile. The simple act of caring for him had forged a connection, bridging the gap created by his frustrations and the barriers he had erected. The walls he had so carefully constructed seemed to crumble, if only slightly, in the face of your genuine compassion.

"All done," you said gently, your voice a soothing murmur in the quiet room.

Jacaerys nodded, the simple gesture carrying a weight of gratitude and acknowledgment. His eyes, though still distant, held a trace of the vulnerability he had tried to shield. Unsure of what to do next, you sat in silence, his bandaged hand still sitting on yours, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the edges of the cloth. 

With a sigh, you moved to stand. “I shall take my leave–” 

“No.”

You looked at him, a mixture of surprise and curiosity in your eyes. "Is there something else you need?" you asked, your voice gentle and open.

He hesitated, his eyes searching yours as if grappling with something he couldn’t quite articulate. The vulnerability that had surfaced during your care seemed to linger, a delicate thread connecting you both.

For a moment, Jacaerys remained silent, his expression a complex blend of contemplation and unease. It was clear that he was wrestling with the emotions that had surfaced – emotions that he had been trying to keep under control.

Finally, with a deep breath, he spoke. “I just… need a moment. Alone, but not alone. If that makes any sense.”

“I’m not following, Jacaerys.”

“Just… Just stay. Here.”

You studied him for a moment, the sincerity in his eyes and the depth of his request weighing heavily on you. His expression was a blend of vulnerability and longing, a quiet plea for comfort that he could not fully articulate aloud.

With a nod, you settled back into your seat, the minutes ticked by slowly, the only sounds the soft rustling of fabric as he adjusted his position and the occasional sigh that escaped him, each one a testament to the inner battle he was fighting. You watched him with quiet empathy, allowing him the space to navigate his emotions without feeling pressured to fill the silence.

Jacaerys’ gaze drifted out of the window, his eyes lost in thought. The sunlight cast a warm, golden hue over his face, and you couldn’t help but think that he looked beautiful. 

You could see the gradual softening of his features, the way his shoulders relaxed a bit more. It was as if the burden he carried had lightened just a fraction, if only because he had someone to share it with, even if only in silence.

Neither of you spoke of it since then, the needed company enough to ease the burden that Jacaerys had been carrying. 

—————

Days had passed, marked by the quiet moments of solace you'd been sharing. Jacaerys seemed to carry himself with a bit more ease around you, a small but noticeable shift in his demeanor. Though the castle continued its usual rhythm, with its clattering armor and distant roars of dragons, the moments of companionship between you had become a gentle, sincere bond.

You'd often find yourself drawn to him during those moments. It was as if the space you’d created together in the few months you’d been there had left a mark – a subtle, lingering sense of understanding that hung between you, yet not strong enough to end the awkward moments where Jace’s brain reminded him of Baela, or when he’d get nervous around her still. 

Though he didn’t have anybody to speak of it with, Jacaerys felt a stronger care towards you, slowly beginning to accept his duty and where his heart was taking him.

Whether it was through shared meals or the occasional chance meeting in the castle corridors, there was a new layer of connection that seemed to envelop your interactions.

One afternoon, as you wandered the castle grounds, you found yourself in the garden, little Joffrey laid next to you, a serene haven amid the chaos of court life. The sun was beginning its descent, casting a warm, golden light over the flowering beds. 

You had come to clear your mind, to find a moment of peace, and the small child had trailed behind you, desperate for some company.

Lost in thought, you almost didn’t notice Jacaerys approaching until he was almost upon you. The soft crunch of gravel beneath his boots alerted you to his presence, and you looked up, a smile forming on your lips as you met his gaze.

Jacaerys’ expression was relaxed, a stark contrast to the intensity you had seen in him before. He glanced at Joffrey, who was now busy examining a particularly vibrant blossom with wide-eyed curiosity.

“Hello,” the kid greeted, your tone warm and welcoming.

“Hello,” Jacaerys replied, his voice carrying a gentle warmth. His eyes flickered briefly to Joffrey before settling back on you. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

You shook your head, the soft rustle of your movement blending with the whisper of the wind through the garden. “Not at all. Joffrey’s just enjoying the flowers.”

Jacaerys paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on the child. With a thoughtful expression and a small smile, he approached and gently placed a hand on Joffrey’s small shoulder. “Joffrey, why don’t you go find Rhaena? I believe she’s somewhere near the training yard.”

Joffrey looked up at him, his expression a mix of curiosity and uncertainty. “But I want to stay with you,” he protested softly.

“You’ll find Rhaena much more interesting,” Jacaerys coaxed, his tone kind but firm. “And I promise I’ll see you soon.”

“Please?”

Jacaerys’ gaze softened as he looked at the little boy. His hand lingered on Joffrey’s shoulder, and you could see the hesitation in his eyes. With a gentle sigh, he turned to you, his expression easing into a more relaxed smile, letting you choose.

“It’s alright,” you said, chuckling. “If Joffrey wishes to stay, then let him. It’s not often we have the chance to simply enjoy the garden.”

Joffrey’s face lit up with a delighted grin, his initial reluctance melting away. He clambered back to his spot next to you, resuming his exploration of the flowers with renewed enthusiasm. 

Jacaerys settled onto the ground, leaving his sword behind and nestling next to his brother, his posture relaxed as he observed the scene before him. The child mumbled flower names he’d learned about, picking some up to hold them up to you and Jace in pride. 

As the three of you sat in the garden, the atmosphere was filled with a gentle tranquility. Joffrey's innocent enthusiasm for the flowers brought a lightness to the air, his excited chatter a soothing backdrop to the moment.

Jacaerys watched his younger brother with a fondness that softened his features. His eyes, usually guarded, held a warmth that spoke volumes about his love for Joffrey. As the child continued to explore, holding up various blooms for inspection, Jacaerys found his gaze drifting towards you.

There was something different in the way he looked at you now. The tension that had often clouded his expression in your presence seemed to have eased, replaced by a quiet appreciation. It was as if he was seeing you anew, through the lens of your kindness towards your surroundings and the gentle way you interacted with him.

He felt his chest tighten in nervousness as he reached behind his brother, who was too distracted by the flowers in front of him to notice Jacaerys’ hand itching towards yours. 

“You seem more at ease,” you remarked gently, the words barely more than a whisper, yet carrying a depth of observation. “How are you finding things lately?”

Jacaerys shrugged a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “I’m well, I suppose.”

Jace shifted slightly, his fingers still hovering near yours, but he hesitated. His eyes flickered between you and Joffrey, who was now eagerly describing a particularly colorful flower to you with wide, innocent eyes. The child’s chatter filled the space between you, an unwitting barrier that Jacaerys seemed to navigate with care.

He found himself drawn more and more to your presence. The way you listened attentively to his little brother, offering gentle encouragement and genuine interest, stirred something within him. It was a softness he hadn't expected to feel, a warmth that seemed to spread through his chest.

His fingers, still hovering near yours, trembled slightly with indecision. The desire to bridge that final gap, to make that physical connection, warred with the lingering echoes of his past with Baela. But as he watched you smile at Joffrey, your eyes crinkling with genuine affection, Jacaerys felt something shift within him.

Slowly, cautiously, he let his hand move those final few inches. His fingers brushed against yours, a touch so light it could have been mistaken for a breeze. But then, with a surge of courage, he gently covered your hand with his.

The contact sent a jolt through him, a mix of nervousness and excitement that made his heart race. He kept his eyes fixed on Joffrey, afraid to meet your gaze, afraid of what he might see there. But he didn't pull away.

You glanced at him, but his eyes were still focused on Joffrey, though you could see a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

With a final, enthusiastic show of a particularly bright bloom, Joffrey tugged at your sleeve and glanced up at you. “I want to go find Rhaena now,” he said, his small voice tinged with excitement at the prospect of a new adventure.

You looked at him and nodded, smiling at his boundless energy. “She’ll be happy to see you.”

Joffrey beamed, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. “I’ll tell her all about the flowers!” he declared, holding up the few flowers that could fit in his palm before scampering off towards the training yard, his laughter and light footsteps fading into the distance.

As the child’s presence disappeared, the garden seemed to settle back into its previous serenity, leaving just you and Jacaerys alone amidst the blooming tranquility. 

Jacaerys shifted slightly, his hand still resting gently over yours. He finally allowed his gaze to meet yours. His eyes, now more open and honest, held a hint of the conflicted emotions he had been grappling with. 

You could tell something ate at him, had he not wanted to talk about it with his brother present. Gazing at him, you offered a gentle, encouraging smile. “Would you like to talk about what’s troubling you?”

Jacaerys looked away for a moment, his brow furrowing as he struggled with his thoughts. His fingers tightened slightly around yours. 

“It’s just…” he began, his voice carrying a hint of frustration. “I’ve been feeling… left out. Disregarded, almost.”

You tilted your head slightly, encouraging him to continue. “How so?”

Jacaerys shifted his position, the tension evident in the way he gripped the grass beneath him. “I feel like my mother… she doesn’t trust me to take on the responsibilities I believe I’m ready for.”

His words came out in a rush, as if the weight of them had been too much to keep contained any longer. “She hasn’t sent me to war, hasn’t allowed me to fly on dragonback to our allies or to attack the Greens. I understand that she wants to protect me, but it feels as though she’s holding me back, not giving me a chance to prove myself.”

You considered his words carefully before responding. "Your mother's caution comes from a place of love, Jace.” you moved to sit closer to him. “The realm is at war, and losing you would be devastating, not just for her."

His brow furrowed, a mix of understanding and lingering frustration evident in his expression. "I know that, but–"

"She's lost so much already," you continued gently. "The thought of losing you too must terrify her."

A flicker of understanding crossed Jacaerys' face. "I hadn't... I mean, I know she worries, but..."

He brought his free hand to his hair, pushing it back before. “I just wish she’d let me act. I only wish to help.”

“It might not feel like it, but sometimes being present and prepared is just as important as taking immediate action.”

He let himself fall back, hand still in yours as he laid on the grass. You settled beside him, keeping a respectful distance but close enough to offer comfort. 

"You want to make a difference, Jacaerys," you said softly, your voice blending with the tranquil sounds around you. "That’s a noble desire."

He closed his eyes for a moment, the serene atmosphere providing a brief escape from his inner turmoil. "I want to prove that I’m capable, that I can be trusted with more than just the responsibilities here at the castle."

“I rather like having you here, at the castle.” you admitted, cheeks burning as he turned to face you, you avoided his eyes.

Jacaerys’ gaze lingered on you, and you could feel the warmth of his attention even without looking directly at him. The confession had slipped out before you could fully rein it in, leaving you feeling a mix of embarrassment and vulnerability. 

You could see him processing your words, the flicker of surprise in his eyes softening into something more contemplative.

“You like having me here?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. There was a trace of something in his tone – curiosity, perhaps, or a tentative hope.

You nodded, still avoiding his gaze as you looked out at the blooming flowers. “Yes. Your presence here has been… comforting.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he almost whispered, “I like having you here, too.”

The realization that had begun to dawn upon him – the understanding of his feelings and the recognition of your presence as something deeply significant – seemed to transform the way he’d been looking at you. 

His eyes traced the contours of your face with a mix of awe and realization, as if seeing you in a light that was both startling and illuminating. The intensity of his stare spoke of a shift in his heart, a transition from the shadow of his past desires to the clarity of his present feelings.

His fingers moved to your wrist, softly caressing the skin as he stared. You felt your heart rate pick up, nervous under his gaze.

The realization that he had been holding back, that his past with Baela had obscured the thought of the potential of something new, seemed to now weigh heavily on him. Yet, despite the tumult of his emotions, there was a serene acceptance in his gaze as he watched you.

Eventually, he was shaken out of his thoughts by one of the handmaids approaching, hands together behind her back. “My prince, your presence is requested at the court.”

Jace’s hand reluctantly slipped from yours as he sat up, the moment of shared vulnerability giving way to the demands of his role. He looked at you, his expression a mix of regret and determination. “I suppose I must attend,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of reluctance.

You gave him a reassuring smile, though your heart felt a pang of disappointment at the interruption. “Of course. Duty calls.”

He rose to his feet, his posture shifting back into the prince’s armor of composure and authority. Yet, there was a softness in his eyes that lingered—a remnant of the moment you’d shared in the garden. He extended a hand to help you up, a gesture that was both courteous and intimate.

As you took his hand, you felt the warmth of his touch and the slight tremor in his fingers. It was as if the brief connection you had shared had made him more aware of your presence, more attuned to the quiet understanding that had passed between you.

“I’ll see you later?” he asked, his voice carrying a note of uncertainty as he looked at you.

You nodded, trying to keep the reassurance in your tone steady. “I’ll be around.”

Jacaerys offered a small, genuine smile before turning towards the handmaid, his demeanor shifting back to the prince of the realm. He followed her down the garden path, his steps more measured, his gaze occasionally turning back to where you stood.

—————

The prince was nowhere to be found. The castle’s usual rhythm was disrupted as whispers of Jacaerys’ disappearance spread through the corridors. The once-familiar sounds of bustling servants and the distant murmur of courtly debates felt suddenly fraught with tension. You moved through the stone halls with a sense of urgency, the weight of concern pressing heavily on your chest.

It had been a restless night after Jacaerys confided in you about his plans. His frustration and the quiet desperation in his voice had painted a vivid picture of a prince caught between duty and desire. He had sneaked past your chambers at midnight and told you, in hushed tones, about his decision to leave the castle in search of allies, to rally forces in favor of his mother’s cause. He begged for it to be kept a secret, for his mother would not allow it if he was found out. 

Now, as you scoured the castle, each passing moment felt like a lost opportunity to stop him. You had hoped he’d reconsider, that the gravity of his actions would weigh on him enough to stay, but now the absence of his familiar presence was a stark reminder of his resolve. You felt anxious at the amount of hours he’d been gone, his dragon with him.

As the days passed without any sign of Jacaerys, the castle's atmosphere remained tense, with whispered conversations falling silent as you approached. You couldn't shake the feeling of being an unwilling conspirator in the prince's absence.

To distract yourself from the gnawing worry, you sought out the company of Baela and Rhaena. You spent time with them in the gardens, listening to Baela's spirited tales of dragon-riding and Rhaena's quieter musings on history and lore. Their presence offered a semblance of normalcy in these unsettling times.

As the week drew to a close, you found yourself lying awake in your chambers, your mind racing with possibilities of Jacaerys' fate. The silence of the night was suddenly broken by a commotion in the halls. Heart pounding, you rose and moved towards the door, straining to make sense of the muffled voices and hurried footsteps.

Emerging into the corridor, you were met with a flurry of activity. Servants rushed past, carrying linens and basins of water. The air was thick with tension and an undercurrent of relief. As you made your way towards the source of the disturbance, you overheard fragments of conversation.

"The prince has returned..."

"...wounded, but alive..."

"...flew in on a weak Vermax..."

Your steps quickened as you approached Jacaerys' chambers. The door stood ajar, and you caught glimpses of the prince through the gap. He was seated on the edge of his bed, surrounded by maesters and attendants. His face was pale and drawn, with a bandage visible beneath his torn shirt and a bloodied gash on the side of his face, from his eyebrow to his cheek. 

As you hovered uncertainly in the doorway, torn between relief at his return and apprehension about the consequences of his actions, Jacaerys' gaze met yours. He shared a small smile before the door was shut fully.

Hours later, when the halls had once again fallen silent, restlessness clung to you like a second skin. So, when you heard the soft knock at your chamber door, your breath hitched with a mix of relief and apprehension. You recognized Jacaerys’ familiar rhythm: two quick raps, a pause, followed by another. Without hesitation, you moved to open the door, ushering him inside and closing it behind him with a soft click.

“Jace,” you whispered, your voice a blend of concern and gentle reproach. “You should be resting. The maesters–”

“They exaggerate,” he cut in, a wry smile curving his lips. The smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, which were shadowed with fatigue. “I can walk just fine, and these”, he gestured vaguely to his face and torso, “are merely flesh wounds. They’ll scar, nothing more.”

You took a long, careful look at him. Despite the bravado in his voice, you could see the toll of the day’s events etched into his features. The weariness was palpable in the way he held himself, slightly hunched as though to shield his injuries from the world. His normally bright eyes seemed dimmed, burdened with an invisible weight that hadn’t been there before he left.

“What happened out there?” you asked softly, guiding him to sit on the edge of your bed. You remained standing, unable to find the calm to settle.

Jacaerys sighed deeply, his hand running through his disheveled hair, pushing it away from his face. He shook his head, the gesture heavy with unspoken frustration and exhaustion. 

"It's... a long story," he said, his voice weary. "I wouldn't want to bore you with the details."

You moved closer, your eyes fixed on his face. "Jace, you could never bore me."

He looked up at you, a flicker of gratitude passing across his features. But then he shook his head again, more gently this time. "I appreciate that, truly. But right now... I just need a moment of peace. This past week has been..." He trailed off, seemingly unable to find the words to describe his ordeal.

"And I know that once my mother hears of my return, there will be no escaping her scolding," he added with a rueful smile. "I wanted to see you before that storm breaks."

Your heart softened at his words. You sat down beside him on the bed, careful not to jostle his injuries. "I'm glad you came," you said softly. "I've been worried sick about you."

Jacaerys turned to face you, his eyes searching yours. 

“We all have been,” you added. “Baela… your mother…”

A flicker of acknowledgement passed over Jacaerys' face at the mention of Baela, but it lacked the usual undercurrent of pain and longing you'd grown accustomed to seeing. Instead, there was a quiet acceptance in his eyes, as if a weight had been lifted.

"I'm sorry for worrying you all," he said softly, his gaze dropping to his hands.

Jacaerys remained quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on his hands. Though he didn't voice it, the week away had been harder than he'd anticipated, not just because of the physical trials he'd endured. He'd found himself missing your presence more than he'd expected – your counsel, your companionship, the comfort of your familiar face in a sea of uncertainty.

When he'd caught a glimpse of you outside his chambers earlier, a part of him had wanted to dismiss all the fussing maesters immediately. He'd longed to speak with you, to see you, to share the weight of his experiences, to seek solace in your understanding.

His eyes lifted to meet yours again, “What have you been doing in my absence?”

You huffed, fixing your posture and faking a smile. “Queen-to-be training, apparently.”

"Queen-to-be training?" he repeated, his tone a mix of amusement and sympathy. "I can only imagine. Let me guess – the maesters have been relentless?"

You nodded, rolling your eyes good-naturedly. "They were absolutely scandalized when they discovered I hadn't been taught to sew as a child. You'd think I'd committed some grave offense against the realm itself."

He shook his head, still smiling. Jace leaned back slightly, his posture relaxing as he listened to you. Despite his fatigue, he seemed genuinely entertained by your predicament. "And how are you faring with these... essential skills?" he asked, a teasing glint in his eye.

You gave him a playful glare. "I'll have you know, my stitches are only slightly crooked now. Though I fear my embroidered dragons look more like angry lizards."

This elicited another laugh from Jacaerys, louder this time. He quickly pressed a hand to his side, but the smile remained. "Well, I for one would be honored to have a tapestry of angry lizards adorning the castle walls."

You couldn't help but smile at Jacaerys' laughter, even as concern flickered in your eyes when he winced. It was good to see him in lighter spirits, despite his injuries.

"I'm glad you find my struggles amusing, Your Grace," you retorted with mock indignation.

“I wouldn’t dare.”

You couldn't help but smile at his fake offense. "Oh! And apparently, I've been pronouncing 'Targaryen' wrong all this time."

Jacaerys raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "Oh? And how have you been saying it?"

You demonstrated, exaggerating your previous pronunciation. 

Jacaerys laughed loudly again, shaking his head. "Well, I suppose we can't have a future queen mangling the family name. Though between you and me, I think half the smallfolk say it differently anyway."

The way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the genuine amusement that softened the harsh lines of his face, was a reminder of the boyish prince beneath the layers of duty and exhaustion.

You watched him carefully, your heart aching with a mixture of relief and lingering worry. “You really should rest,” you said gently, reaching out to adjust the bandage on his forehead, which had started to peel from the corner. 

His hand came up to cup yours, linking your fingers together as he hesitated. “I suppose I should.”

As if summoned by some mischievous deity, a muffled voice filtered through the heavy chamber doors, shattering the intimate moment. The maester's call, though faint, rang out clearly in the sudden silence: "My prince?"

Jacaerys tensed slightly, his hand tightening around yours for a brief moment before he let out a soft sigh.

"It seems my reprieve was short-lived," he murmured, a note of resignation in his voice.

You both stood, reluctantly letting your hands fall apart. Jacaerys moved towards the door, his movements careful and measured to avoid aggravating his injuries. 

The door creaked open to reveal the maester, whose expression was a blend of relief and professional concern. Behind him, the flickering torchlight cast shadows that danced across the walls, adding to the sense of urgency.

“My prince,” the maester began, his gaze flickering to you with a polite nod, “You must rest.”

As he turned to follow the maester, he glanced back at you, a brief, almost imperceptible smile passing across his lips. The door closed behind them, leaving you alone in the dimly lit room. The soft rustling of fabric and the distant murmur of footsteps were the only sounds breaking the stillness. After a week of restless nights, you finally let sleep take over you.

The next day dawned with a flurry of activity in the castle. You rose early, your mind still occupied with thoughts of Jacaerys and the events of the previous night. As you prepared for your daily lessons, you caught snippets of conversation from passing servants – apparently, the prince had been confined to his chambers on the Queen's orders until his wounds fully healed.

Your morning was filled with the now-familiar routine of "queen-to-be" training, barely having time to visit your betrothed. Every time you’d tried to sneak past the maester in charge, or one of the maids, you’d be given a stern look that made you sit back down to focus on your duties. 

As you moved through the castle corridors between lessons, your path took you past Jacaerys' chambers. You slowed your steps, hoping for a glimpse or perhaps a chance to check on him. Instead, you saw Baela and Rhaena approaching his door.

You hesitated, watching as Baela knocked and then entered the room with a gentleness that seemed at odds with her usual boisterous demeanor. Through the briefly open door, you caught a glimpse of Jacaerys, propped up in bed, his face lighting up at the sight of his cousins.

A pang of something – jealousy? concern? – fluttered in your chest as you observed Baela's careful movements around Jacaerys, her hand resting on his arm, a small smile on both of their faces. But as you watched their interaction, brief as it was, you realized with a sense of relief that there was nothing more than friendship between them. The easy camaraderie, the lack of tension or hidden glances – it all spoke of a comfortable, familial bond rather than the romantic entanglement that had been haunting them for the past months.

As the door closed behind the sisters, you found yourself releasing a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. The knot of tension in your chest loosened, replaced by a warm feeling of reassurance. You continued on your way to your next lesson, your steps lighter than before.

Throughout the rest of the day, your thoughts occasionally drifted to Jacaerys, wondering how he was faring in his confinement. You made a mental note to find a way to visit him yourself, perhaps under the guise of delivering some reading material or simply to offer companionship during his recovery.

—————

Three days had gone by, Jace’s absense from the castle’s halls feeling like a palpable void. The castle's routine continued its relentless pace, but each day felt marked by the absence of the prince, who remained in his chambers as per the Queen’s decree. The usual sounds of the castle – footsteps echoing in the corridors, the murmur of conversations, and the clinking of dishes during meals – seemed muted without Jacaerys’ vibrant presence.

Your lessons, though diligently attended, seemed to stretch endlessly. The repetitive drills and the constant pressure to perfect every task left you feeling drained. 

On the third day, the weight of confinement began to bear down on you. The castle walls seemed to close in, and the routines felt increasingly stifling. You could no longer ignore the need to see Jacaerys, to offer him your support and comfort in person.

In the late afternoon, as the sun began to cast a warm, golden light through the castle windows, you decided to act. With a determined resolve, you gathered a stack of books, their leather covers and gold leafing catching the light, and made your way toward Jacaerys’ chambers. This time, you hoped your visit would be more than just a fleeting encounter.

As you approached his door, you took a deep breath, your nerves fluttering with anticipation. You knocked gently, the sound a soft reminder of your presence.

You were met with silence. 

You were about to knock a second time when the door creaked open just slightly, and you caught a glimpse of Jacaerys himself standing on the other side. His disheveled hair and the faint smile that tugged at his lips betrayed a hint of mischief.

Before you could react, he grabbed your hand with a swift, practiced motion and pulled you into the shadowed recess of the large closet adjacent to his door. The suddenness of the action left you breathless and slightly disoriented, but the familiar scent of cedar and leather from the closet’s wooden shelves quickly grounded you.

The closet was spacious enough to accommodate both of you. As your eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through the small crack in the door, you saw Jacaerys leaning against the wooden wall, his face a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

“You,” he said in a low voice, a smile playing at the corners of his lips, “have impeccable timing.”

You let out a soft laugh, your nerves calming as you realized the nature of this unexpected encounter. “Shouldn’t you be resting?” you teased, trying to peer through the sliver of light to gauge your surroundings.

Jacaerys shrugged lightly, though the movement was cautious to avoid aggravating his injuries. “The maesters have been relentless. They’ve turned my chambers into a medical haven. And every time they think I’m alone, they come barging in.”

“This is not quite the secret escape I envisioned,” Jacaerys continued, his voice tinged with a playful undertone. “But I needed a moment away from the constant attention.”

You turned to face him fully, the dim light highlighting the fatigue etched into his features. Despite his light-hearted words, the exhaustion was evident. “I can imagine,” you said softly. “I’m sorry to intrude. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

He reached out and took your hand, his touch gentle but firm. Jacaerys’ smile widened, though his eyes remained shadowed with fatigue. “I’m glad you came,” he said, his voice carrying a note of genuine relief. “I’ve missed our conversations.”

“I’ve missed them too,” you admitted. 

“I’m sure they have gone to folly, they won’t let me stand from bed without making a fuss of it.” he nodded his head towards the doors, referring to the healers. Though the light was dim, you could still see some of the light hit his face, letting you see the wide smile on his face, and the less-reddened stitches on his brow.

You glanced around the small space, the closet’s confines feeling oddly intimate as you and Jacaerys stood close together, the warmth of his presence a comforting balm. You could still hear the distant murmur of servants and the occasional clatter of dishes, but the noise felt miles away from this hidden nook.

“You’ve been so diligent with your lessons,” he said, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. “I was beginning to think you enjoyed them more than my company.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “Hardly,” you said. “If you could see the looks I get from the maesters when I try to sneak away, you’d know I’m barely enjoying myself.”

You heard the faintest sound of footsteps approaching, and your heart skipped a beat. The maesters, ever vigilant, seemed to be making their rounds again. The muffled conversation from outside the door grew clearer, and you could catch fragments of their voices discussing treatments and concerns.

Jacaerys tensed slightly, his hand squeezing yours for a brief moment before letting go. He brought his finger to his lips, telling you to be silent. He glanced towards the door, his face reflecting a mixture of concern and frustration. 

“We should–”

Jace cut you off by pushing the door to the closet, creaking it open just enough to let in a sliver of light, and you heard one of the maesters call out, “My prince?”

Jacaerys’ eyes widened slightly, and he moved quickly, guiding you further into the closet’s shadows. You followed his lead, pressing yourself against the wall.

The maesters’ voices grew louder, and you could see their shadows falling across the floor just outside the closet. “He must be somewhere around here,” one of them said with a hint of irritation. “He can’t have vanished into thin air.”

The tension in the small, shadowed closet was almost palpable. You and Jacaerys huddled together, your breaths shallow and synchronized as you listened to the footsteps drawing nearer. 

Jacaerys' hand, still warm from holding yours, rested lightly on your back, a comforting presence amid the growing anxiety. His face, illuminated by the narrow stream of light sneaking in through the partially opened closet door, reflected a hint of amusement.

The maesters' voices were now directly outside the door, their conversation laced with frustration. “He couldn’t have gone far,” one of them said with a note of exasperation. 

“His Lady is also gone.” you recognized the voice from the maester that ‘helped’ with your duties. 

The sound of the maesters' footsteps echoed ominously in the corridor, each step growing closer and more insistent. The air in the closet was warm and heavy, mingling with the faint scent of cedar and leather. You pressed yourself closer to Jacaerys, your heart pounding in sync with the increasingly agitated voices outside.

Jacaerys' attempt to stifle a giggle came out as a muffled snort, his shoulders shaking with barely contained mirth. The sound was so unexpected that it made you bite back a laugh of your own, though you knew it would only draw more attention. You nudged him gently, your eyes narrowing with a mixture of exasperation and amusement.

“Jace,” you whispered fiercely, “this is not the time for laughter.”

He covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of apology and suppressed hilarity. “I’m sorry,” he managed to whisper, his voice trembling with barely contained laughter.

"...The Lady must be with him," one of the maesters said, frustration evident in his tone. "It’s rather irregular for them both to be missing at once."

You could almost see the disapproving frown on the maester’s face. The idea of being found in such a compromising position made your cheeks burn with mortification. Your heart raced as you imagined the potential scandal that could arise from this misunderstanding.

“They must think we–”

Jacaerys, sensing your distress, gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. His eyes, despite their fatigue, held a mixture of amusement and tenderness. He leaned in slightly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “They’ve jumped to conclusions. Don’t worry.”

You covered your face with your hands, even though he could barely see you, he stifled another giggle. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of mortification at the thought that anyone might assume something dishonorable was happening between you. Without thinking, you reached for the doors, wishing to push them open and stop the gossiping outside that questioned yours and the prince’s ability to wait for the wedding.

Jacaerys let out a barely audible sigh, his hand still resting lightly on your back. “We should stay put,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “They’ll leave eventually.”

You nodded, stepping back and pressing closer into the shadows of the closet. The cool, cedar-scented air was a stark contrast to the warmth of Jace’s body near yours. The narrow stream of light that filtered through the crack in the door illuminated the small space in patches, casting elongated shadows that danced around you.

Minutes felt like hours as you waited in the tense silence. You could hear the maesters’ frustration mounting, their voices rising in pitch as they grew increasingly exasperated. Jacaerys was still smiling at the distress.

The voices of the maesters gradually began to recede, their footsteps growing fainter as they moved further down the corridor. You exhaled slowly, the tension in your shoulders easing just slightly. Jacaerys, still pressed close to you, let out a soft chuckle, though he quickly stifled it with a hand over his mouth.

You could feel the heat of his laughter reverberating through his chest, a sensation that was both comforting and endearing despite the precariousness of your situation. You turned to him, your eyes meeting his in the dim light. His smile, despite the exhaustion that lined his face, was infectious.

“You could try to find a more comfortable hiding spot, next time.”

“Noted,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. You hoped that by the time all the maesters were out of the room and you stepped out of the closet, the evident flush of embarrassment that showed in your stance and your face. 

As the final echoes of the maesters' footsteps faded away, you and Jacaerys remained hidden in the closet, the silence now a companion rather than an adversary. The tension that had clung to the air began to dissipate, replaced by a more relaxed atmosphere that was punctuated by Jacaerys' muffled chuckles and your own quiet, relieved laughter.

You shifted slightly, careful not to jostle Jacaerys too much, and peered through the narrow crack in the closet door. The hallway outside was empty, the earlier disturbance seemingly a distant memory. You turned back to Jacaerys, whose face was lit by a smile that softened the lines of worry etched into his features.

“Are they gone?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Jacaerys nodded, his expression one of satisfaction mixed with residual amusement. “I think we’re clear. Though I doubt they'll stop their search anytime soon.”

With a final glance towards the partially open door, you slowly eased out of the closet, Jacaerys following suit with a careful, measured movement. The light from the corridor spilled into the closet, illuminating the room in a warm glow that made the shadows retreat. You watched as Jace made his way to his bed, patting the spot next to him for you to sit. 

Jacaerys sank onto the bed with a sigh of relief, the weariness of his injuries evident in the way he settled. You sat beside him, careful to keep your movements gentle and unhurried. 

“I’d brought you books,” you said, pointing at the pile of books that had fallen to the floor when he pushed you into the hiding spot. 

“Would you read to me?”

The request was soft, almost hesitant, but you could see the faint hope in his eyes. 

“Of course,” you said, your voice gentle as you began to gather the books from the floor. You selected one that seemed lighthearted, its cover adorned with an intricate illustration that promised adventure and whimsy. You settled back onto the bed beside him, the book open in your lap.

Jacaerys shifted slightly, propping himself up with a few pillows to make himself more comfortable. 

The room seemed to grow quieter, the only sounds the gentle rustle of pages and your soothing voice. Jacaerys’ eyes, once shadowed with fatigue, now shone with a mixture of relief and contentment. He listened intently, his gaze fixed on you as if the story was a lifeline pulling him away from the distress of his injuries.

You paused occasionally, glancing up to see his reaction, and each time you were met with a smile or a look of fascination.

After a while, Jacaerys let out a contented sigh, his hand resting on the book as you reached a particularly gripping part of the story. 

He cleared his throat softly, a subtle gesture that drew your attention away from the book. His gaze was momentarily fixed on your face, as if seeking the right words amidst the shadows and flickering candlelight.

He paused, as if weighing his next words carefully. “There’s something I’d like to ask,” he said, his voice a soft murmur.

You felt a flutter of anticipation in your chest. “What is it?”

Jacaerys’ gaze fell to the book, then back to you. “Would you… kiss me?”

The request was almost shy, a contrast to the bold stories you’d been reading together. But there was something incredibly sincere in his tone, a plea for a simple yet profound gesture of closeness.

You didn’t hesitate. You set the book aside, letting it rest gently on the bed. You moved closer to him, your heart racing with a mix of tenderness and excitement. Jacaerys’ breath was warm against your cheek as you leaned in.

You pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek, the touch delicate and affectionate. His skin was warm and slightly rough from the healing, but there was a softness that spoke of his vulnerability. As your lips met his cheek, you felt him relax, a sigh of contentment escaping him.

When you pulled back, Jacaerys looked at you with a smile that was both grateful and serene. His eyes were bright, the earlier exhaustion giving way to a peaceful calm. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath.

For a few moments, there was only the soft, rhythmic sound of your breathing and the occasional crackle of the candle flames. The evening outside continued its slow descent into night, the castle settling into a peaceful hush.

The sound of the doors opening eventually broke the silence, you almost jumped from the bed, the thought of being found in bed, unchaperoned, with Jace. 

Your heart leapt into your throat at the sound of the doors creaking open. Panic surged through you as you glanced quickly at Jacaerys, whose own eyes widened in alarm. You barely had time to react before the intruder – a young maid, her face flushed with the energy of youth – appeared in the doorway.

You froze, every muscle tensing as she looked around the room with wide, innocent eyes. The maid's gaze fell upon you and Jacaerys, sitting together on the bed. Her cheeks reddened slightly, a mix of surprise and embarrassment flickering across her face.

“I–I’m sorry, My Prince,” she stammered, her eyes darting between you and Jacaerys. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Jacaerys, still propped up on the pillows, cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure. “It’s alright,” he said, his voice steady despite the situation. 

The maid took a step into the room, her gaze flickering nervously. “The maesters are looking for you, my prince. They’ve been rather anxious, and I’ve been sent to see if you made your way back to your chambers.”

You could sense Jacaerys’ frustration at the intrusion, though he managed to keep his demeanor calm. He looked at you, a silent plea for understanding in his eyes. You offered a reassuring nod, then moved to rise from the bed.

“I’ll go,” you said gently. “It’s best if I make my exit before things get more complicated.”

Jacaerys reached out, taking your hand with a brief but tender grip. “Thank you for being here,” he said softly, his eyes conveying the depth of his gratitude.

You smiled, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before reluctantly pulling away. “I’ll see you soon,” you promised.

—————

The days that followed your clandestine visit to Jacaerys were a blend of anticipation and reflection. The castle continued its relentless rhythm, but now, each echo and murmur seemed tinged with the memory of your hidden conversation. Jacaerys’ recovery was progressing, and the tension that had initially surrounded his confinement began to ease. The maesters, though still vigilant, were less inclined to hover, and the prince’s rooms were gradually returning to a semblance of normalcy.

You had kept your promise to Jacaerys, visiting him regularly. Each visit was a delicate balance of light-hearted storytelling and quiet companionship. 

Among the many who noticed the change was Baela. The shadows of the past days had given way to a hopeful light, and Baela could sense the shift. She had seen the glances exchanged, the shared smiles, and the subtle, unspoken understanding between you and Jacaerys. It was clear to her that something had deepened between you two, and she couldn’t help but feel a sense of happiness for her friend and his newfound joy.

Your months in Dragonstone, even while its halls were rumbling with conversations about the war, were a stark contrast to the familiar, yet isolating, walls of your own castle, where being the only girl and without siblings had left you feeling like a solitary figure amidst the vast expanse of family and duty.

After having spent every given moment with Baela and Rhaena, they had become your confidantes, your sisters of choice, each sharing in the trials and triumphs of your days with an openness that was both refreshing and comforting. And the enthusiasm for company of the small Joffrey made your heart ache with care.

Little Joffrey was fast asleep with his head on your lap, both of you sitting on the grass outside of the castle, under the dappled shade of an ancient oak.

Beside you, Baela and Rhaena lounged on a cloth spread out on the grass. They chatted animatedly, their voices a melodic blend of excitement and curiosity. Baela was gesticulating with animated gestures, her laughter bright. Rhaena smiled warmly, her gaze occasionally shifting to the slumbering Joffrey with an expression of affectionate amusement.

The halt of steps beside you made you look up, a small smile creeping to your face at the sight of your betrothed. 

Without a word, Jacaerys stopped by your side, his gaze flicking to Baela and Rhaena, who had paused in their conversation, their curiosity piqued by his arrival. His expression softened as he met your eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had grown between you.

He cleared his throat softly, a gesture that drew your attention. “Could I speak with you for a moment?” His tone was courteous yet carried an undertone of urgency that made you sit up slightly, careful not to disturb Joffrey’s slumber.

You nodded, glancing at Baela and Rhaena, who exchanged curious glances but remained silent, their interest evident. “Of course,” you said, rising gently and carefully lifting Joffrey to lay him down on one of the girls, ensuring he remained comfortable.

As you moved away from the blanket and the lively chatter, Jacaerys fell into step beside you. His presence was reassuring, though his demeanor was serious. He guided you a short distance away from the others, near a secluded spot where the oak's branches formed a natural canopy, providing a sense of privacy.

Once you were out of earshot, he stopped and turned to face you, his expression a mix of anticipation and something akin to nervousness. His hand moved to the small of your back.

“What is it?” you asked with a smile.

“I figured we could use a moment alone,”  Jacaerys' demeanor shifted subtly as he faced you, his eyes softening with warmth. A hint of a playful smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He stepped closer, his hand still resting gently on the small of your back.

"Well," he began, his voice low and tinged with a hint of mischief, "I've been thinking about something for a while now." His gaze flickered briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again. 

He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your cheek. "I was hoping we might... continue where we left off the other day?" he murmured, his tone filled with gentle suggestion.

“Whatever do you mean?” 

Jacaerys' fingers traced a feather-light pattern on your back, sending a shiver down your spine. His other hand came up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, lingering there for a moment.

Jace smiled softly, his eyes twinkling with affection as he gazed at you. "You know what I mean," he said gently, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand moved from your hair to cup your cheek tenderly. “I have grown to care deeply for you. You cloud my judgment.”

With a gentle tilt of his head, Jacaerys closed the remaining distance between you. His lips met yours in a soft, sweet kiss. It was brief but filled with emotion – a tender expression of the growing bond between you. As he pulled back slightly, his eyes searched for yours, filled with hope and a question.

"Was that alright?" he whispered, his hand still cradling your cheek.

You felt a rush of warmth spreading through you, your heart beating a little faster. This moment, shared in the dappled shade of the ancient oak, felt like the beginning of something precious. The playful glint in Jacaerys' eyes mixed with genuine care, creating a connection that went beyond your formal betrothal.

In the distance, you could hear the muffled laughter of Baela and Rhaena, a reminder of the world beyond this intimate moment. But for now, wrapped in Jacaerys' gentle embrace, you allowed yourself to savor this new chapter in your relationship, full of promise and sweet beginnings.

taglist: @smurfelle @earth4angels @ @sillylittlepenguin181818 (taglist link is on pinned!)

[lowkeyren]

drunk words, sober thoughts!

in which — “taking your boss home after he gets drunk for the nth time this week” wasn’t in your job description; but as emotions run high, would you still choose to resist his advances?

pairing — aventurine x gn!reader

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆  — wc: 2.1k, consumption of alcohol (aven is drunk), he’s so down bad for u its not even funny anymore, topaz + jade cameo ;) reblogs w comments are appreciated! please enjoy <3

the persistent ringing of your phone jolts you awake, pulling you from the depths of sleep. groggily, you reach out, fingertips searching for the source of the disturbance amidst the darkness of the room.

with a grunt of frustration, you finally locate your phone on the bedside table. your eyes squint against the harsh glow of the screen, revealing topaz's name flashing insistently.

"hello..?" you answered, your voice thick with drowsiness. 

"hey friend, sorry to wake you." topaz said, quickly getting to the point, "aventurine's getting wasted at the tavern here. can you come get him?" 

you rub your eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. "aren’t you at the tavern too? why can't you do it instead..." you don't mean to sound rude, but anyone's mood would sour if they were woken up in the middle of their slumber, right? 

(and please just give me one night of peace, you want to add on)

but working as aventurine's secretary means there's barely ever any peace; you are constantly living a chaotic life, exhausted by his endless and, even more annoyingly, unpredictable shenanigans. maybe you shouldn’t have taken the position, but the pay and the view of his infuriatingly handsome face makes it all worthwhile.

topaz sighs. "trust me, i tried. but his stubborn ass is refusing to leave, i can't get through to him no matter what." 

in the background, you hear your boss call out to you, “mmmh [name]... c'meeere” his words slurred from the effects of alcohol. it's clear he's drunk; way too drunk actually. is he that far gone? you aren’t even there. 

it wasn't the first time he’s gotten this drunk, in fact he’s been drinking every other day lately —much to your concern. "alright, i'll be there soon." you reply, fully aware that his drunken antics would inevitably lead to a splitting headache.

"thanks. he's in pretty bad shape." topaz adds just as another slurred whine of your name cuts through the background. “...ugh, and please come quick” she hangs up before you can respond. you sigh again, throwing off the covers, and quickly dressing yourself before making your way to the tavern.

it looks like your night’s just getting started, because this is just another reminder of how taxing it is to clean up after your endearingly troublesome boss. 

as you step through the entrance of the tavern, your eyes scan the crowded space until they land on aventurine. he’s slumped over the counter, his head resting on his folded arms, and an array of empty glasses scattered around him. you notice topaz isn't beside him, and just as you reach for your phone, a notification pops up from her. 

"jade called, i have to go." fantastic, now you're stuck playing babysitter to your incredibly drunk boss all on your own. isn’t this just adding insult to injury..? you put your phone down, and make your way over to the counter, mentally bracing yourself for what’s to come. 

aventurine, whose cheeks are flushing from too many glasses of ale, immediately perks up when he catches sight of you. his posture shifts slightly, a clumsy attempt to straighten up. despite his dishevelled appearance and obvious inebriation, a sloppy grin spreads across his face; his usually sharp eyes now hazy, but his gaze remains unwavering.

“sir, it's time to go home. you’ve had enough for tonight.” you say firmly, your expression deadpan, the exhaustion in your system weighing heavily on you. “sweetheart... *hic* i missed youuuu," he slurs, words drawn out and muddled, the alcohol coating his tongue with each syllable. 

aventurine’s bleary eyes struggling to focus as they fix themselves on you, it’s evident he has it much worse tonight.  “mmh sweetheart, have i ever told you just how gorgeous you are?" his words linger in the air; though your expression remains indifferent, you can feel a subtle heat rising up your neck.

you hate how he has this effect on you, it shouldn't stir such feelings, especially given his role as your boss. though no matter the amount of times he effortlessly (re: shamelessly) slips endearments into your conversations, you can still sense the warmth bubbling up inside you —much to your dismay.

“yes sir, for the fourth time this week. and don’t try to distract me—” before you can finish, aventurine stumbles forward and envelops you in a tight embrace, the overpowering smell of alcohol engulfing your senses. his lips inches away from your ear, the proximity borders on suffocating in its allure; he rests his chin on your shoulder, his breath hot against your neck, stirring a rush of conflicting emotions within you.

you hadn’t had anything to drink tonight, so why are you feeling hazy, your head swirling with jumbled-up thoughts, and your body unexpectedly warming up? you fight to maintain your composure as aventurine holds you close, his grip unyielding.

“ahem… sir please release me immediately. ” you manage to say, your voice trembling slightly, cringing at your own words as it didn’t come out as stern as you had hoped.

aventurine seems to hesitate for a moment, his grip loosening ever so slightly, but he doesn't let go completely. ��no… no sir, i’m not your sir” he mumbles, his words muffled against your shoulder.

two weeks ago, you would've redirected his attention firmly, steering clear of any personal entanglements that could complicate your working relationship. two weeks ago, you would’ve dismissed any hint of intimacy, and suppressed the flicker of attraction beneath layers of practicality and duty. 

now, however, your resolve falters as you stand enveloped in his embrace. the logical arguments that once guided your actions seem distant and irrelevant compared to the raw, magnetic pull of his presence.

in the face of his vulnerability, your defenses too crumble, leaving you grappling with conflicting impulses and unspoken desires —so you decide to indulge just this once.

“aventurine. there, happy?” you can feel his heart racing against yours, a syncopated rhythm that mirrors the tangle of emotions swirling within you. the line between professionalism and lovers has always been blurred between you. but now as his arms encircle you and his warmth seeps into your skin, it seems near impossible to define.

perhaps, all along, it was his intention for that line to fade away, to be erased completely.

he doesn’t respond with words, but instead holds you tighter, as if seeking solace in your presence. his name escapes your lips in a soft murmur, “kakavasha…?” the sound of your voice rings in his ear, lingering in the air like a whispered prayer.

he seems to delight in the way you utter his name, evident by how he savours each syllable like a rare delicacy.  you take his silence as your cue to continue, clearing your throat, “unfortunately the chauffeur is unable to make it at this hour, so i will—”

he cuts you off by releasing you from his grasp, yet keeps you ensconced in his arms, ensuring you face him directly. in the dim light, you finally get to see his flawless features up close for the first time tonight.

“i love you.” his words hang in the air, leaving you momentarily speechless. 

he stares into your eyes, a whirlwind of emotions surge within you. caught off guard, you let out a chuckle, unsure if his words are genuine or if he’s merely attempting to charm his way out of a situation again. 

“i bet you tell everyone that.” you shoot him an unimpressed look.

he pauses for a moment, his hands finding a comfortable place on your back before pulling you closer to him.  “i do.” he nods in confirmation, his gaze steady on yours. 

“i tell everyone that i love you.”

your heart skips a beat, actually no, you think you stopped breathing the moment those words left his mouth. does he know how much he tugs at your heartstrings? though you can’t help but wonder if he'll regret everything when he sobers up tomorrow. 

“aventurine, you’re drunk.” you say softly as you divert your gaze. "yes, and you’re everything i’ve ever wanted." he moves his free hand up to gently cup your cheek, eagerly waiting for the moment the room stops spinning so he can focus on your face again.

the world around you collapses the instant your eyes meet him again, it feels like he's baring his soul to you, grounding you with his touch, his presence. you gently place your hand over his that rests on your cheek, your voice barely above a whisper. "let's get you home first, and we can talk about this when you're sober."

“alright sweetheart, whatever you say...” he drawls out with a tipsy cadence, punctuated by his tightening hold on your back. you huff out in feign annoyance before grabbing his hand and dragging him out the tavern.

you navigate through the night with a very drunk aventurine leaning heavily against your side, his arm draped around your shoulder for support. “ugh you’re impossible when you’re drunk…” you chide with a playful roll of your eyes, half-supporting, and half-dragging him along. “please be reminded to give me a raise when this is over.”

aventurine’s occasional laughter punctuates through the quiet night, drawing the attention of a few late-night pedestrians who smile knowingly at the scene. and you swear you caught a glimpse of silver-white hair as you pass by an alley, maybe the lack of sleep is really taking a toll on you.

“you’re lucky you have a pretty face to make up for all this mess you’re dragging me through.” you remark subconsciously, only to be interrupted by him abruptly stopping in his tracks. he looks at you with a sheepish grin, cheeks still flushed.

“…you think i'm pretty?” 

you jab at him, maybe you should give him a few more while you have the chance. after all, he probably won't remember any of this tomorrow, right?

okay maybe aventurine wasn’t lying when he said he tells everyone that he loves you. (and apparently “everyone” includes his coworkers too)

the constant dinging of your phone makes you seriously consider launching it out the nearest window. you open the group chat and stare incredulously at the avalanche of texts flooding your screen.

[topaz sent an attachment]

seems like you weren’t hallucinating last night, topaz really was there —and she managed to snap a picture of you and aventurine.

“topaz?? i thought you had an emergency with jade”

“nah lol, jade was in on it”

“hope you had a great night dear, and make sure to let us know what happened~”

“you guys are menaces i swear!!!!”

before you can gather your thoughts, a pair of familiar arms wrap around your waist from behind, pulling you gently against his solid chest. you tense up, part of you wanting to melt into his hold; and despite your better judgement, you instinctively lean into him.

"so, what's the deal with you getting plastered every night?" you tease, momentarily forgetting about the texts as you turn your focus to aventurine.

“what else other than drowning out my sorrows over you, sweetheart.” he quips, sneaking a quick peck on your cheek, which you dodge just in time. 

“seriously? all those drinks were because you thought i wasn't into you?"

“hmm, yeah pretty much so.” he admits, truly his shamelessness knows no bounds.

“then i guess it’s about time you learn how to handle your losses.” you jest, nudging him as he raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. “there’s no need. i'll still tell you that i love you tomorrow, the day after, and every day after that until you finally let yourself believe it." 

aventurine will wait for the day you accept him, more than just your boss; he will wait for the day you whisper those three words, not just into his ear, but into the very depths of his heart. he will be there, patiently, until the day your soul finally speaks the truth that his heart has always known.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 

masterlist

©lowkeyren 2024. please do not plagiarize, translate, repost on other platforms, or feed my works into ai.

[o0sleepingdead0o]

Ambassador Danny AU

Just a silly thing knocking around in my brain.

Batman halted in the door of the conference room, taking in the sight of a strange being lounging imperiously in his chair. His white hair seemed to defy gravity ever so gently and his green, glowing eyes—Jason’s eyes—stared back with none of the regard or fear so many people showed towards Batman. His tanned face was speckled with tiny stars that Batman had to actively resist becoming memorized by. The boy’s choice of covering was sheening armour that refracted the light through his chest-plate of black ice. The white sleet that sharpened his knuckles seemed perfectly capable of movement despite it encasing his hands in similar fashion to the chest-plate; glassy in it’s brutal edges and as hard as the sheets that form over the coldest of lakes. 

The watchtower had been invaded. Batman had questioned why the place was so cold when he’d arrived. Now he knew.

The only thing that kept Batman from immediately reacting might have—very much—had to do with how young he looked. A boy in the second half of his teens.

And the fact that several other Justice League members were at Batman’s back as he strolled further into the room, watching the boy warily.

The boy’s eyes were unconcerned as he watched the Justice League file in. Worryingly so. Who was he that he would be so unfazed, how powerful? Or was it faith he wouldn’t be harmed, taking advantage of the Justice League’s strong morals?

The teen had commandeered the chair with all the authority of a king and the confidence of one assured of their own position. He sprawled across it. The chairs were all identical of practical, unassuming make, but this boy made it look like his throne as he leaned heavily on one side and stretched one leg way on the other. A hand was extended to dangle off one chair-arm and he had a knee braced up, showing an armoured shin protecting his black, sturdy, cargo-like pants and iced boots that jagged treacherously upwards.

The boy smirked. “Took you long enough. I was getting bored.”

Batman resisted the urge to clamp his hands over his already protected ears from the unearthly static and screeching glaciers that came from the boy’s mouth. He noticed Superman flinch and his face grimace.

“Who are you?” Batman growled. This boy was obviously inhuman. He was also an unknown. Batman would be foolish to underestimate someone who had somehow infiltrated the watchtower without being seen or setting off any alerts. Who exuded too much confidence, as if the entire world was at his fingertips.

Attacking took the back-burner in favour of garnering information in such a concerning situation.

“You may address me as. . .” He contemplated a bit too much for Batman to believe whatever he would give them would be his true name. “Danny.”

“. . .Danny.” 

The name was so. . .normal.

“How did you get here?” Wonder Woman asked with hints of warning and aggression.

The boy smiled. He had fangs. Too many sharp teeth. He didn’t answer and was revelling in their ignorance.

“What are you doing here?” Superman asked. It said something about Danny’s energy that even superman was being cautious about approaching.

“Waiting for you.” He smirked.

“Why?” Batman pushed as much threat and intimidation into his stance and words as he could. He usually didn’t have to think about it. “What do you want?”

Danny chuckled and a shiver ran up Batman’s spine. Goosebumps formed even through the protective layers that shielded him from the cold.

“Why don’t you sit?” The words should have been innocent. They felt like a trap. “You’ve gathered for a meeting, haven’t you?” 

The league members didn’t move. Danny sighed.

“Fine, fine, fine.” He rolled his eyes and Batman was eerily reminded of how much the adolescent exasperation reminded him of his own children. Danny leaned off the chair arm to lean an elbow on the table instead, propping his chin up. He was all teeth. “The Infinite Realms wishes for peace. I’ve come to investigate the possibility of a treaty on behalf of the High King.”

<><><><>

“THERE’S A DENIZEN OF THE INFINITE REALMS IN THE WATCHTOWER??!!!”

Batman held the phone away from his face at Constantine’s uncharacteristic display of panic. It did not bode well and it settled uncomfortably in his bones.

He grunted in affirmation.

Constantine swore up and down enough to fill Alfred’s swear jar ten times over. “What do they want?! What did you say to them!? Ohhhh, bloody ****! You’ve already antagonized them haven’t you?!”

“No.” Batman ground out.

Constantine was quiet. Several seconds ticked by.

“. . .WELL?!”

“He claims the High King wants to negotiate for peace.”

There was silence on the other end. Batman usually preferred it when Constantine was quiet, but this was thick and seemed to claw out of the phone to infect the watchtower. It muffled the noises and beeps and drowned out the presence of the other league members who had stepped out of the conference room with him.

Then there was a great, controlled release of wavery air. When Constantine spoke, it was more serious than Batman ever remembered hearing him.

“Okay, okay.” Constantine mumbled to himself. “Listen closely, Bats, and repeat everything, and I mean everything, to your circus clowns.”

Superman cleared his throat. “We’re here.”

“YOU LEFT THE AMBASSADOR ALONE?!”

“Of course not! Wonder Woman and Martian Manhunter are monitoring him.” Batman said. 

Constantine grumble-sighed. “Good.” He mumbled. “Two of the competent ones. I don’t trust Bats not to **** this up and get us all killed.”

“What now?” Flash said.

Batman was a little offended. “Constan—“

“NO!” He yelled vehemently. He sounded a little manic. “Batsy, you have the emotional intelligence of a wet paper bag, a sad, trampled, wet paper bag with so many holes that it can’t even be considered a bag anymore, you have the emotional intelligence of wet, paper scraps and the diplomacy of a feral hyena! Unless he addresses you first, Do. Not. Initiate! Do not open your mouth! I have no faith in you whatsoever!”

“I will n—“ Batman tried to growl again, but Constantine cut him off. Again!

“No!” Constantine reiterated oh, so eloquently. “Look.” He sighed. “Getting news of the newest High King since he defeated the last one has been near impossible. All Deadman will tell me is that he’s better than the last guy and we are incredibly lucky our entire dimension wasn’t wiped out after that stunt the American government pulled with the Anti-ecto Acts.”

Batman saw some of the leaguers pale. He suddenly wasn’t feeling the best either.

“Anti-Ecto Acts?”

“Laws declaring their species non-sentient and illegal, I dealt with it, thing is, this is an extremely delicate situation.” He stressed. “We don’t know what kind of ruler he is, what little thing might set him off, and we cannot afford to set the High King off! Capiche?! It’s a good sign that he’s willing to negotiate peace, but he could change his mind. Some ghosts are very temperamental.”

“Ghosts.” Several of the leaguers repeated. Constantine let out an incredibly exasperated sound.

“Do you idiots know nothing?! Yes, ghosts! The Infinite Realms is the dimension between dimensions, the land of the dead and the never-born! They are incredibly powerful entities and many of them could level our planet easily! Whatever you do, DO NOT ask how they’ve died! It is highly taboo and you’ll get yourselves killed!” Constantine let out a stressed groan.

“I would come back and deal with this myself, but I am. . .occupied at the moment. Don’t try to negotiate without me! You lot will muck everything up! And seriously, DO NOT ASK HOW THEY’VE DIED! Keep the Ambassador happy until I can get there, convince him to stay! We might not have another chance like this, don’t annoy them, do not ignore them, and, just in general, don’t give the ambassador any reason to deliver anything negative to King Phantom and have him erase us all, got it?”

The Justice League exchanged several, stunned looks.

“Got it?”

Batman grunted.

“Good. And Bats.” Constantine added lowly. “If this fails, I am blaming you for the end of the world.”

Constantine ended the call and the phone beeped before drowning everyone in silence. The leaguers shared more looks.

“Now what?” Hal said.

[nhlclover]

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐖𝐒 | 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

summary: you and quinn finally break the news of your relationship to your families, bracing for their reactions while hoping for acceptance.

warnings: mostly fluff, jack luke and trevor being weird and trevor being overprotective, technically an age gap but not really (2 years), happy ending !

word count: 2.12k

Your stomach twisted with nerves as Quinn drove down the winding road to the lake house. Normally the trip to the lake house would bring waves of excitement, but the only thing you were feeling right now was anxious.

You met Quinn when you were sixteen, back when your family moved to Plymouth for Trevor’s hockey. It was through Trevor that you met the Hughes. During your time in Michigan, the Hughes’ became like a second family. Countless hours were spent at their house, watching games together, and sharing meals. It was during those years that your and Quinn’s friendship deepened. However, it wasn’t until a couple of years later when you reconnected in Vancouver that your friendship evolved into something more.

When you moved to Vancouver for work, you reconnected with Quinn and it felt like no time had passed. Initial coffee meet-ups turned into dinners then into dates. The transition from friends to more-than was natural and almost seamless as if you had always been meant to be together. Your friends in Vancouver remarked how perfect you seemed for each other; Quinn’s reserved and gentle nature balanced your outgoing and energetic personality.

Despite this, you couldn’t seem to shake the nerves that seemed to fill every inch of your body. This was because your brother and Quinn’s brothers didn’t know about the two of you yet.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell them, in fact, you couldn’t wait for them to know and to witness their reactions when you told them. But with those thoughts came a rush of anxiety. You knew how protective Trevor could be over you, being wary of anyone who got close to you. The Hughes brothers, on the other hand, had known you for so long that it felt strange to think of them seeing you in a different light. The idea of their possible disapproval, or worse, pulling apart your chosen family, made your stomach churn.

“Hey,” Quinn said, his soft voice pulling you out of your daydream. You glanced over at Quinn, whose eyes were flicking back and forth between you and the road. “Everything will be fine.”

You let out a breath of air you weren’t aware you were holding. “I just… what if they aren’t okay with it?”

“Y/n… they’ll be happy for us. Stop worrying.” Quinn said, his eyes settling on the road. His calm demeanour was usually a source of comfort, but today it made you feel even more on edge. He reached over and squeezed your hand, a small gesture that sent a wave of warmth through you.

You nodded, silently wishing you could share his confidence. The lake house held so many memories, but this trip felt different. Maybe it was the significance of the moment—returning to a place where so many of your memories with the Hughes were made, but now as Quinn’s partner. The weight of it all felt overwhelming.

As the lake house came into view, your heart raced. The picturesque setting was just as you remembered, the sun glistening off the water, the house nestled in between the pines. Quinn parked the car between Jack and Trevors and you both stepped out, the fresh air coming off the lake instantly enveloping your lungs.

You grabbed your bags from the trunk, heading up towards the house where you spotted your twin brother and the rest of the Hughes family lounging on the front porch. They all greeted you with enthusiastic smiles and waves, unaware of the bombshell you were about to drop.

“Hey, you guys!” Trevor grinned, bounding off the porch towards the two of you. “How was the drive?”

“Not bad,” you replied, giving Trevor a hug. “Traffic wasn’t too bad.”

Quinn greeted his brothers before passing them off to you. Luke and Jack pulled you into a group hug, the older of the two giving you a small noogie. “It’s about time you two got here, we were beginning to think you got lost.” Luke joked.

“Thanks again for travelling with her man,” Trevor said, clapping a hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “I hope she wasn’t a bother or anything.”

You glanced at Quinn, suppressing a smile towards the irony of Trevor’s comment. Little did your brother know that Quinn had been the biggest source of comfort throughout the trip, helping to ease the anxiety brought on by the prospect of telling everyone about you and Quinn.

“No, not at all,” Quinn replied. “She was good company.”

“Come on, let’s get inside,” Jack said, grabbing one of your bags and leading the way to the house. “Mom and Dad are in the kitchen, they’ve been waiting for the two of you.”

As you walked through the front door, the comforting aroma of the lake house hit you, and you couldn’t help but smile. It was these small, comforting details that made the lake house feel like home. Ellen and Jim greeted you warmly, pulling you both into hugs and insisting you sit down and relax.

“So, how’s Vancouver treating you?” Ellen asked.

“Really well,” you replied, glancing at Quinn. “Work is great, and the city is beautiful. I’ve been lucky to have Quinn show me around a lot.”

“Oh, I’m sure he has,” Jim said with a knowing smile. “You know, I’m glad the two of you are still so close.”

You felt your cheeks flush as you caught Quinn’s eye, his expression reassuring yet slightly amused. You knew in your chest that it was now or never. It was only going to get worse the longer you put it off. You took a deep breath, feeling Quinn’s hand gently rest on the small of your back as he stepped up beside you.

“Actually,” you began, your voice wavering just a bit, “there’s something we wanted to tell you all.”

The room fell silent, all eyes landing on you and Quinn. You saw Trevor’s eyes glance down to Quinn’s hand and then back to your face, a confused expression on his. You glanced at him, and he gave you a small nod, encouraging you to continue.

“Quinn and I are…we’re together,” you said, the words tumbling out faster than you intended. “As in, we’re dating.”

For a moment, there was complete silence. You could see the wheels turning in Trevor’s head, his expression shifting from surprise to something unreadable. Luke and Jack exchanged glances, and Ellen’s face broke into a warm smile.

“Well, it’s about time,” she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “I always thought you two would make a great couple.”

Jim nodded, a small smile appearing on his lips. “Congratulations you two, we’re happy for you.”

You felt a small weight lift off your shoulders at the positive reaction from two people who were practically your parents but felt it fall right back down when you glanced over at the boys, all three of them looking shell-shocked.

“Wait, what?” Jack finally said, looking between you and Quinn. “You’re serious?”

Quinn nodded, his hand now tracing comforting circles on your back. “Yeah, we are.”

Trevor remained silent, his gaze fixed on Quinn. You could see the struggle in his eyes as he processed the information. The room felt heavy with the weight of unspoken thoughts and emotions.

“Well, this is… unexpected,” Luke said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I’m happy for you guys, just… wow.”

Jack nodded in agreement. “Yeah, same here. Just caught us off guard.”

The rest of the evening was filled with awkward conversations and forced smiles. Jim and Ellen did their best to keep the atmosphere light, but the tension was palpable. Every time Quinn held your hand in his or sidled yourself under Quinn’s arm, you could feel the tense glances from them. Discomfort radiated from every one of them.

As night fell and everyone started heading to bed, you couldn’t shake the unease. You lay awake, replaying the day’s events in your mind. Quinn had repeatedly given you reminders that everything would turn out okay and that they would come around eventually. But even as Quinn lay quietly beside you, his steady breathing reflecting his attitude from throughout the day, the attempts at comfort couldn’t fully erase the lingering anxiety.

The next morning, you awoke after little sleep, your racing mind keeping you awake throughout the night. You knew you couldn’t go on with feeling this way around the others. You descended the stairs, following the soft hum of conversation out to the porch where you found Trevor, Jack, and Luke sipping from steaming mugs. Taking a deep breath, you walked over and sat down, the cool morning air helping to steady your nerves.

“‘Morning,” you said softly, pulling the sleeves of Quinn’s hoodie down over your hands.

The three boys mumbled ‘good mornings’, not one of them bothering to look up from their mugs. You huffed, now feeling more annoyed than anxious that this had continued into the morning. “Can we talk?”

Trevor glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Sure.”

You took a moment to gather your thoughts before continuing. “I know yesterday was a lot to take in, and I just wanted to apologize if it felt sudden. But I need you all to understand how important this is to me. Quinn and I, we really care about each other.”

Luke sighed, setting his mug down on the side table. “We’re not upset, Y/N. It’s just… surprising. We’ve known you for so long… it’s just weird to think of you two as more than friends.”

Jack leaned forward in his chair, his expression soft. “And-and it’s not that we don’t support you… it’s just unexpected. But if you’re happy, then we’re happy.”

You smiled, feeling a bit of relief wash over you. However, you still felt a force pushing back in the form of your twin sitting in the chair across from you. You turned to Trevor, leaning forward to try and capture his gaze, which remained locked on the water. You could see conflict in his eyes, the protective older brother wrestling with the reality of the situation.

“Trevor?” you prompted gently.

He finally looked at you, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want you to be happy, Y/N. I do. It’s just… Quinn’s my boy. If something goes wrong, it’s going to mess things up for all of us.”

You chuckled softly, reaching out and gently placing a hand on Trevor’s knee. “I get that you’re worried, Trev. But Quinn and I have thought about this. We know the risks, and we’re committed to making this work. He makes me happy, and I want you to see that.”

Trevor opened his mouth to speak but shut it and sighed instead. “I just… I don’t want to see you get hurt. And I don’t want to lose one of my best friends.”

“You won’t lose him,” you reassured him. “If anything, this will bring us all closer. But I need you to trust me. Trust us.”

Trevor studied your face for a long moment before finally nodding. “Okay. I trust you. But if he ever does anything to hurt you…” “I won’t, I promise.” You all turned to the doorway where a sleepy-looking Quinn stood. He came over to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

Trevor sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. “Alright, alright. I get it. I’m just being the overprotective brother, I guess. It’s going to take some time to get used to this.”

“Well, now that we’ve gotten the serious stuff out of the way,” Jack said, breaking the tension with a grin, “who’s ready for some breakfast? I’m pretty sure Mom made pancakes.”

As you all made your way inside, the atmosphere felt lighter. Breakfast was a blend of easy conversation and laughter, the expected teasing coming in steady doses. The rest of the day felt like life was back to normal, the initial shock seemed to wear off, replaced by the warmth and support of both your real and chosen family.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange, you found yourself sitting on the dock with Quinn, your feet dangling in the water. The events of the day played in your mind, the change in events now bringing you comfort.

“I told you it would be okay,” Quinn said softly, his hand intertwining with yours.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, a content sigh escaping your lips. “You were right. I just needed to get out of my own head.”

Quinn pressed a kiss to your temple, his voice filled with affection. “That’s what I’m here for.”