#THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK BTW THIS TOOK ME SO LONG TO GET TO
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Hello may I please humbly request that you draw Athena and Omega being cute together. That would make my day!!!
aSK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE!!!!
The only thing better than wrecking eggman's flimsy toys is having someone there who properly appreciates your handiwork :)
Getting rescued from an exploding ship is Athena's biggest dream scenario
(bonus under the cut)
who needs jets capable of flight when you have calves of (literal) steel?
#sonic the hedgehog#sonic fanart#e-123 omega#e123 omega#e 123 omega#sth#sonic#sonic oc#sonic comics#athena the seedrian#sonic ocs#asks#solarroseart#I'm sorry this took so long I've been chopping up branches and raking for the past two days-#then blender gave me a run for my money. but I had to do it. for the bit.#thank you so much for this ask btw I've had this scene in my head for a while#but it didn't click on how I could quickly communicate it until I received this ask for reasons that are a mystery to me#getting Omega's eyes to communicate “suave” was weirdly difficult but I hope his expression reads that way AJKFDS
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this is an invitation to ramble about slade/batboy ships: sladick, sladejay, sladetim, sladedami, and other batfam member/villain ships, especially jayroman and ra'stim :)
AAAAAA this is so delightful oh my god thank you. adding a read more just because this one is going to get Long to cover all the ships and all my opinions. because my god do i love Slade.
firstly, the original Robin/villain ship, SlaDick. Slade Wilson, literally created to be a Teen Titans villains, with the original Robin he cannot be normal about ever. i'm so sad there's not much interest in Slade aside from making him a generic Evil Guy who canonically likes teenagers because i think to just boil down his complex with Dick to 'weird attraction' robs them of SUCH nuance. Slade *trusts* Dick, he trusts Dick enough to ask Dick to train his own daughter Rose. and initially Slade's complex over Dick isn't sexual, it's seeing Dick as a replacement for his dead son, Grant. that's messy as hell and i love them for it. i don't think there's a single villain that has the respect for Dick that Slade has. i'm always of the opinion Dick's attraction to Slade is rooted in daddy issues and Slade's attraction to Dick is rooted in dead son issues. do i think they could end up as an old married couple? yes but only in a world where Dick is completely broken and feels alone. my favorite SlaDick flavor is post-Jason's death. Dick and Bruce are arguably at their worst during that era to begin with so Dick is pretty isolated and emotionally unstable. and Slade would take such advantage of that, swooping in to offer Dick emotional stability and fucked up sex to get out pent up emotions. (i'm big a big fan of Dick fucking out his feelings tbh) and Slade is just. this sort of bad habit Dick will kick for a year or two then come crawling back to. you can directly track how well Bruce and Dick are getting along based on how many times Dick has slept with Slade recently. and that's the prize, for Slade. knowing Dick will come back to him, eventually. it's all about patience. and if something really extreme happened to Dick (like Bruce's fake death) i think they'd even date briefly. it's not entirely impossible for Dick to date someone he disagrees with morally (see: his flings with Helena) and i think Dick would keep trying to 'save' Slade, using the upper hand he has of filling in this role of Slade's dead son to try to domesticate him. would it work? who knows but if anyone is going to try over and over, it's going to be Dick. it's practically self-harm for Dick yet the only thing keeping him sane. i love them.
SladeJay is... an interesting one for me. because i like the *potential*. but they have no significant interactions pre-Flashpoint. and while usually i can forgive New-52 and Rebirth for their grievances if it has ship fodder i just... can't do that for Jason. Judd Winick's Jason is the only Jason that exists to me so even Slade and Jason's canon interactions matter little to me because it's not the version of Jason i care for. the upside of that though, is it's more of a sandbox to explore what they could be and there are no limitations. i can just run wild. which is fun bc. you're telling me Slade wouldn't be so drawn in by the idea of a dead Robin who's come back and is now the antithesis of Bruce's morality? i think at some point Slade would want to poke the bear, really see what Red Hood is made of. do i see them working long-term? no but i do think Jason would have zero qualms working with Slade if he got something out of it. and if he could fuck with Bruce or Dick by having a short, fucked up relationship with Slade? that's even better. i don't think Slade could ever truly respect Jason, at the end of the day the Dick Grayson standard is too high and Slade would sneer at the idea of a legacy who fucked it up so bad he got blown up. but, he'd see that as Bruce's failure more than Jason's. and for Jason to have someone look him in the eye and say that Bruce *failed* him? i think that'd just *do* something to Jason. and Slade has lost a son, he knows what that loss feels like, how you feel you failed as a father. would he have interest in being fatherly to Jason? no but i think he'd have fun momentarily manipulating Jason and seeing what reactions he gets out of what jeers. Jason's been calling himself a failure this whole time, so to have someone else say it is no real big deal, but to have someone else say it's Bruce's fault and voice Jason's feelings? they'd have the most fucked up sex with the most unhealthy dirty talk that's both gentle and degrading. i don't think Jason would ever let himself get too close, he's far too emotionally guarded. but for a second, i think he'd fantasize about having even *half* the amount of attention that Slade gives Dick. bc what has Jason always been, but in Dick's shadow.
SladeTim. my two blorbos. in one place. somewhere in my drafts i have a half-started longfic about SladeTim that's one half really fucked up porn and one half slowburn feelings. arguably Tim and Slade don't have many canon interactions, but it's fun to me that when they do, Slade always seems sort of startled by how well Tim fights back and Tim's willingness to fight dirty in a way even Dick doesn't. and to me, that's the crux of this ship. as far as Robins go, Tim should sort of slip under the radar for Slade. he's not the dead one turned villain, he's not the grandson of Ra's al Ghul, hell he's not even the child of a second-rate villain like Steph, he's not *the* Dick Grayson, he's just... the other one. grew up pretty rich and normal and fell for all of Bruce's wax poetic nonsense. so when Tim puts himself on the map as a hero, makes himself a worthy opponent against Slade that's interesting. even to Tim, Slade isn't a particularly remarkable villain since Slade cares to stay more on Dick's radar. so when they cross paths there's a lot of unexpected. neither of them have thought about the other too hard. so there's this interest and intrigue about it i love. i'm a big fan of the idea Tim is a massive masochist, both physically and emotionally and Slade is The Sadist Ever so. i like them falling into bed together and having the most fucked up sex. like Tim just being a Weird Little Freak so fucked up even Slade raises an eyebrow. because this isn't what you *expect* of a kid like Tim, who's had a pretty easy life before tangling with vigilantes. he should be like a fish out of water, but instead he's matching Slade's energy in ways even Dick doesn't. and of course, how smart he is, that's an asset. it takes a special kind of kid to have the audacity to poison Lady Shiva with hotel chocolates and pull it *off* no less. it earns a begrudging respect, and it's rare to get Slade to respect someone. i really like the idea of Tim seeking Slade out only for fucked up sex and somehow Slade falls for this weird little freak who's cold and clinical outside of sex and keeps him guessing.
i'll be honest i've only considered SladeDami in the context of seeing antis say 'omg Slade has been predatory toward Damian ewww' and going 'no the fuck he hasn't but if you want that so bad i'll ship it just to spite you all' but their canon interactions do fascinate me. a lot of how they interact is predicated on Slade as a father, even more so than SlaDick. like Slade will fight Damian and then be like 'hey be good to your old man fathers need their sons' and fucking dip. and then with the whole Respawn thing and Shadow War? that was extra crunchy. for a brief moment Slade had a son who was a brother to Damian and then he goes and *dies*? talk about the complex that would give him with Damian, the spitting image of Respawn. Make Slade Weird About Batkids That Remind Him of His Son 2024. Damian holds an utter contempt for Slade that is simply unmatched. so Slade not leaving that kid alone because of his weird issues, making sure that Bruce doesn't screw up with Damian the way he screwed up with Respawn is very fun. and Damian slowly building up a tolerance to Slade's annoying antics could be fun. Damian is, at his core, still just a kid who needs the approval of something father-shaped and he will Take What He Can Get. are they ever healthy or long lasting? no but i do think Damian would cling to Slade during his teen years for something incredibly fucked up and codependent until either Slade dumped him or he forced himself to get over it.
JayRoman. i will not lie love these two but i don't think i've read many Black Mask comics when he's not interacting with Jason. which is funny because my entire conception of Roman is him just getting humiliated by Jason and really what more is there to know about the man. Jason is so unserious in how he handles Roman and the best part is you can tell it's truly because he doesn't see Roman as a threat. Roman's just a pawn in the game of getting Bruce's attention and sure, Jason is aiming to kill Roman by the end of it, but he'll always have bigger fish to fry. and that's so *infuriating* for Roman. this new guy who's *clearly* a fucking teenager shows up, owns you so badly it shatters your empire, and then you only live bc he seems to have gotten bored of you. JayRoman is my particular favorite ship for the flavor of 'the sub in bed is in control of every other aspect of their relationship and their submission is a gift that can be revoked at any time' which we don't get enough. fucked up power dynamics always have the sub being the one lacking control. and whilst i enjoy when Roman is able to absolutely control and manipulate Jason through various means, i think in canon, it makes far more sense he's pathetic and begging Jason for even a *chance*. and Jason very specifically picking who he subs for based on someone who he could kill or destroy at the drop of the hat if he needed to is a very Jason thing to do. there will never be trust between these two. they will fuck nasty and Roman will be in love with Jason. but they are both carrying a gun during sex. the gun is probably involved during the sex.
Ra'sTim. my everything. Red Robin (2009) you will always be famous to me. what *don't* they have. forced proximity. enemies to lovers. forced partnership. one-sided obsession. ridiculously large age gap. deep unforgivable betrayal. i will never evacuate these two from my brain dear god. Ra's is another one of those villains who gets painted with one broad stroke of being cartoonishly evil with no exploration of his interesting nuance. making him nothing but a villain is boring. where is the Ra's who loves so deeply and fully and has to lose his loved ones over and over and will not let that happen to Tim. he wants to consume Tim in a 'cannibalism as a metaphor for love but also probably literal cannibalism' way. the amount of trust put in Ra's in order for Tim to be able to betray him as spectacularly as he did? that's glorious. Tim had full unfiltered access to Ra's' computers even when he was advised against trusting Tim so much. and then Tim wins against Ra's and willingly lets Ra's kill him. (obviously Dick saves him, but I'm of the opinion Tim was just committed to dying in that moment and he was Okay With That) 'i will betray you if it's the last thing i do' as an act of love. Tim is to Ra's what Dick is to Slade. you will never convince me Tim and Ra's didn't hatefuck at least once during RR (2009) with a questionable level of consent. i'm so serious i will never shut up about them. the way Tim talks about working with Ra's as if he's making a deal with the devil and Ra's talks about Tim like he's the precious, once in a life time thing, one of the only people worthy to produce an heir for Ra's. how's that not gay. what other ship involved one of them literally trying to have the other's baby to raise as an heir. Ra's would probably carry the baby himself if he could. memes aside they're just so. they're so it. i love when Tim is forced into a Situation where he has to work with Ra's and confronts the darker aspects of himself that Ra's wants to bring out but Tim wants to squash. it is The corruption kink. whether Ra's succeeds or not in corrupting Tim doesn't even matter because the real crux of this ship is the chase. it's the way the heart pounds when they reach out for each other and you don't know if it's for a kiss or a killing blow. it's very Hannigram to me, in that i don't even need or want them to kiss to know they're in love. love to them is not true love's kiss, it's the thoughtful place they decide to stab the other in. be the sheath to my dagger type ship. hold all this bloody violence i know you're capable of inside of you. let me cut the violence out of you ship. what more can you ask for from a ship. Ra's would tie Tim down and torture him both as foreplay and as a love language and Tim would be too fucked up and self-sacrificial to stop him. always playing the dangerous game of how far will the other let them go until someone tries to die or kill. listen i think i lost the plot here but my point is they're unwell about each other. Tim will make Ra's regret the day he met Tim Drake not just for the betrayal but because Ra's can never go back to a time Before Tim. before knowing what the chase felt like. they're so. them.
#necrotic answerings#sladick#sladejay#sladetim#sladedami#jayroman#ra'stim#i was going to include timlonnie for my own indulgent reasons but this already got so long.#also i've been having some timulysses thoughts as of recent.#aghhhh#sorry this took me a second to answer#i was writing a fic for omega dick week#it ended up 11k words long god somebody help me.#seriously thank you so much for this ask this just makes me so soft ppl wanna ask my opinions on ships#like oh my god ppl care about my weird thoughts. wtf /pos#i was worried when i started this blog that like. no one would care.#but i'm thriving.#yeah in case you can't tell i'm a big fan of tim.#he's just so.#rastim will be like. the peak of peak for me.#but i love all the others just as much#slade wilson deserves more nuance than ppl just calling him a predator/loser. bc yeah he is duh but he's also complicated as hell.#also i'm so serious i saw someone say damian was a 'victim' of slade's#and their proof was a single cover where damian is chained up upsidedown and happens to stick his tongue out at slade.#like. oh my god read their actual interactions you walnuts.#this is a common sentiment on tiktok. the idea damian and dick are victims of slade on the level terra was#which. like blatantly no. they fucking were not.#also the judas contract is just a complicated ass storyline that deserves more nuance than it gets#btw for sladejay i know there's some interactions in the arkhamverse that seem pretty interesting#but i don't know the arkhamverse all too well so i didn't comment
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Dew-how has your day been?
she's not being tormented by her creator (for the moment) at least! dew is likely to pass out in a bush from caffiene overdose tho :D
lil' bonus! the two types of stress balls: stress ball, and Ball of Stress. know the difference before you buy one at your local store; one relies on elastic, the other on caffiene and self-hatred. very different needs
Transcription of first drawing under cut :)
(also @mylackofgrammaristerrifying hiya once again, hope you're doing good!! feel free to send in an ask for my sillies if you want, but absolutely np if you don't want to, won't mention it again! may dew absorb the worries for you with ✨coffee✨)
Dew [socially anxious and on 12 cups of coffee]: Uh, n-not too bad?... I guess...? Thanks f-for asking...
#artsy's post#artsy's fabrication#artsy's art#artsy's dew#artsy's moot sillies#artsy's asks#artsy's fabrication: asks#I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SUCH A LONG TIME TO GET TO#dew is an anxious bean (<3) so he probably put it off lol#thank you SO MUCH for sending an ask - it means so much to me you have no idea :DDDD#and tysm for being patient! i have no idea why this took so long haha#hope you're doing good btw!! please hydrate lots and consume error sans content at a worrying rate. you deserve it :D#have a neat timezone and tysm againnnnnn
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@question-marked asked: “are you making fresh pasta?”
barton managed to barely hear eddie over the sound of two of his kids arguing in the background — who seemed to be jack and matilda, respectively, as he would soon call out to them using their names in his native tongue. but the fact remained that he had heard him and so after he essentially told them to ' get along ' in french, barton turned to face the other. he was currently kneading what looked to be some kind of dough with his hands, ❝ sorry, they've been unusually argumentative today with each other. you're going to have to excuse them. but yeah... lucky for you, you caught me right in the middle of making dinner. ❞
barton seemed to have some experience as he hadn't gotten any of the dough on his hands and it seemed to be quite close to having the right texture (not too dry, and not too wet). and truthfully, he did as the recipe he'd gotten for chicken alfredo from winslow? it called for homemade noodles so he figured he might as well try his hand at it. though barton still wasn't good at certain aspects of it, like actually rolling the dough through the pasta maker. a purposely overdramatic sigh left his lips then, ❝ ahh, but i'm really no good at rolling the dough through the pasta maker myself. if only there were someone here who could do it for me. ❞ he discretely looked over to edward afterward as if to say ' i'm totally not talking about you here, but also, i am. ' barton really didn't like to look like he wasn't an expert at things in the kitchen after all when he'd been cooking so long.
but this was only his second time making this, so he supposed it was more than reasonable for him to still struggle with it. barton stopped kneading the dough and looked at edward through squinted eyes as if analyzing him, ❝ i'm still a bit confused as to why you would come here when you're not injured. would you mind telling me again why you're here, considering i don't think you like me enough to be here simply for a social call? oh, and while you're doing that, could you also get me that dough cutter over there? thanks, ❞ a small unreadable smile ghosted across his features while he gestured towards the blade a little ways away from him. edward had honestly given him no reason to hate him, so as it stood, he felt rather ambivalent towards him. ❝ say, you aren't a vegetarian... right? because i'm making chicken alfredo. and enough to feed a small army, probably, so you can definitely have some. ❞
#question-marked#AHH thank you so much for the ask chrome!! i didn't want to make this too long so i made it as brief as possible BUT i am so excited to-#interact with you TBH (: i know that i still have another one-liner from you sitting in my inbox as well so i definitely will be getting to#that as well soon btw! i'm sorry about the wait i just find that i have to be in a certain mindset for whatever reason when i want to write#barton so that's why i haven't replied to it yet BUT i hope you like this response! and i honestly couldn't picture barton having a reason-#to dislike him right from the get-go which is always a good thing ofc though as you may know barton is the KING of judgers so i took this-#in a ' barton feels rather ambivalent towards eddie bc he doesn't really know enough about him / probably hasn't interacted with him much#to form a solid opinion of him ' approach. however i would say that barton is kinddd of leaning more towards being nice to him-#in this reply?? so we love that though i thought it would be good if i threw a little bit of humor in here to break up any potential#tension and idk why but barton being dramatic always make me laugh so yeahhh LOL man's is just chilling with eddie here y'know
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*tips hat* M'lore-day.
I'm interested in hearing more about The Host, especially Selvvinir and Sycamour.
What were the circumstances surrounding their deaths?
Would you like to talk about some of the bargains they've struck with mortals?
For The Host in general: How do they deal with the dragons who hunt them? How difficult is it for regular dragons to defeat any members of The Host?
Of Dirge and Death
[Selvvinir and Sycamour]
The End in the Beginning
Known in kinder company as The Bonebound Bard and The Harvestmaster, Selvvinir and Sycamour do not share a domain, but they are among some of The Host's only known gray morality members. Their deals are fair, albeit dangerous- and it is most likely because in death, they were not as furious as their fellow entities.
Selvvinir led a clan for a time in a shape far unlike the one she wears now. A battle poet and storyteller who penned the bulk of her people's stories in meter to be performed in the honor of the fallen, Her honesty would see her destroyed, as her tales of survival and perseverance spat cleanly in the eye of those trying to rewrite her ilk as the aggressors in a grand clash between Plague clans that led to her ultimate capture. The remnants of her once-great pack have been scattered to the wind now, and the leaders have shed the fins and skull-plates of Mirrors for the feather of Skydancers and grand bulk of Guardians, and in death, she offers her voice to those who seek to be remembered in the echelons of great singers, performers, bards and poets- with the caveat that they use her boon only to speak truths.
A liar wielding her blessing will find themselves swiftly and resolutely crushed beneath claws still slick with the filth of the Wyrmround she was drown within.
Sycamour Was not raised under the banner of Plague's great respect for power and survival, and one might assume that would have made him more angry to die than Selvvinir, who's respect for her culture meant her death was accepted, albeit, perhaps, more cruel than it needed to be. In life, he was a scholar stationed in Lanternlea Port, a keeper of a grand library of Light Flight's most cherished knowledge. His death was a simple accident, if you ask the wrong people, found deceased with a deadly dose of a bitter root in his cup of tea, the fine porcelain laid almost picture perfectly, beside the pearlcatcher and his scrolls... with his pearl nowhere to be found. Those with a more conspiratorial mind might insist he knew too much, had found something that a collective of others may not have wanted known- But his work unfinished, his desire to catalogue that which dragonkind knows still burning hot within him- The Host welcomed him with open arms.
Serving now as both a reaper predominantly focused on the collection of Pearlcatchers in their moment of death and specifically, gathering their pearls to fill his 'library'- Sycamour is not without his willingness to trade what he knows to petitioners. He is a Memory Broker, using his abilities as a spirit to strip memories from the pearls he harvests and pass them along to the highest bidder- But a memory given is a memory lost, and all things are a trade with the Harvestmaster.
Let's make a Deal.
Selvvinir and Sycamour don't often make deals with the mortals of Sornieth, and the notable subject who sought a deal with Selvvinir made his deal with a different lady of strings entirely. But that does not mean there have been none at all.
[Tarrence and Occulus]
Tarrence is no mortal at all, and his deal with the Bonebound Bard is a favor from a friend, instead of a curse. Tarrence abandoned The Host some time ago, to hide himself away from the politics and petty squabbles of his fellow spirits. The true spirit of Death who's position now splits among his fellows and rests more heavily on Sycamour, in fact, Selvvinir's pity for his desire to protect his only son and escape from the cycle The Host insists upon forcing led to a deal struck in a long-held familial affection. Should Tarrence seek her former lover, and offer him protection from death, from the looming threat of being made a member of The Host himself, Selvvinir would defy her own nature- Siren songs speaking beautiful lies in the ears of those who would rather see him continue in his position- or destroyed and absorbed entirely.
Occulus' deal is one of cruel hunger for ascension, and she sought knowledge from the fount of the Harvestmaster. What Occulus gave up for what she knows is unclear, but given her personality, and general proclivity for being a stone-cold bitch, one might assume it was the last happy memory she bore. The owner and operator of The Mirrors Apartments in Vaudemire Way, she's a good bit more dangerous than her pretty face might imply- and the knowledge she traded for has a cost greater than her own memory- the knowledge of how to create Beholders of the Host without the violent, detrimental cragging of the mind that oft comes from experiencing such power- she seeks to bring the Gods to her own level- and her hunger for knowledge means her greed is... overlooked, by Sycamour. She'll need more than knowledge to strip those on high from their place, after all.
Dethroned.
[Absinthe, Dethrone, And Bast]
While there have been several Host-Hunters over the years, there are currently very few who are... notable thorns in the side of the Host itself, and they are, unsurprisingly, given The Host's reach, unrelated to one another entirely.
Absinthe is a young priest in over his head, investigating the strange happenings around Vaudemire Way, The Stelhope Orphanage, and The Black Adder Circus. Hired by a man who went missing mysteriously soon after his arrival, Absinthe's stay in Vaudemire Way has been... odd, to say the least, and the mad ramblings of the few people who he was directed to as 'leads' have not offered much aid. However, his nosing around has earned the ire of one spirit, Magda, the Eyeless One is not one for the meddling of those who speak with the dead- and Absinthe's investigations have been turning over dirt- and things best left buried- perhaps unlucky for Absinthe, Magda's Cleaversworn is not in the market of asking questions.
Dethrone is ancient, and furious. He seeks to destroy specifically three members of The Host, the Three who conspired to create him. In most cases, Dethrone would have been classified as a member of The Host himself, an undead wraith wreathed in vile black flame, bound in bandages and stitched together with gold. He is a Beholder, despite this, Stygian's one and only, and created, perhaps, with the intention of a power play. In league with Mithos and Puppeteer, Stygian created Dethrone, enabling him to see members of the Host, to hunt more efficiently- their intention to haul a missing god back into their council- Dethrone has only ripped their newest members to ribbons, in response. He defies what he is called to do, and instead follows the streaking energy of the Splintering to possible Ascensions- destroying the fledgling spirits with flame and fang.
Bast, finally, is the most 'recent' but most knowledgeable Host-Hunter. Present at the site of the Splintering that trapped Hope Adder Enterprises in a time bubble, and released The Host across time and space all at once, Bast's task is not to kill the Host, but to secure it, and return them to the walls of H.A.E.- He is aware of what caused the Host's creation, his boss' meddling in the affairs of life, death, and technology and the subsequent escape attempt by VAN- the results of Avis' unethical hunger for knowledge. Infected with an offshoot illness caused by a small number of host members, Bast is uniquely equip to pursue and fight those who resulted from The Splintering- and has a relatively impressive capture rate- Four possible Host ascensions contained and prevented from claiming any greater power is almost unheard of.
Which does, in fact, lead to the question: Can those who might be referred to as "regular" fend off members of the Host? And the answer is resistance is possible- defeat is unlikely. While they are not true gods, simply mangled spirits twisted with magic, and the tangling threads of reality, they have been given a number of boons that make them difficult to fight, to say the least. It is a matter of wits and deception- turning deals back into the face of those who make them- seeking aide in those around you- a lone dragon will never survive the thrall of the Host- the promise they offer too great, their hunger for consumption often too strong- the Host-Hunters themselves are touched by The Splintering, wielding skills not accounted for in the bounds of reality.
#Flight rising#The Host;#Selvvinir;#Sycamour;#okay to rb/comment!#THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK BTW THIS TOOK ME SO LONG TO GET TO#Long post
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If you receive this, you make somebody happy! Go on anon and send this to ten of your followers who make you happy or somebody you think needs cheering up.
THIS IS THE SWEETEST THING EVER AAAAAA THANK U SO MUCH ANON!!!! YOURE THE BEST!!!!
#sorry it took so long to get to this btw :’) I’ve been dealing with the Horrors™️#this seriously made me so happy when I saw it though :’) thank you so much!!!!#thanks for asking!
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˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ➛ Clingy
Charles Leclerc x Fem!reader x Alexandra Saint Mleux
Summary: Charles and Alex gets so clingy it’s adorable
Genre: Short Fluff, Throuple!
Tw: not anything in particular js some grammatical error and mind u this is not profread
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist
─────── ─ ‧₊˚ ☁️ ─ ───────
Yn.cult just posted!
Liked by Charles_Leclerc, Alexandrasaintmleux, bellahadid and 2,389,210 others
Yn.cult 📍NYC!! Finally back at home💋
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Bellahadid No invites??
Yn.cult NEXT TIME I PROMISE
Bellahadid You better🤨
Alexandrasaintmleux Pretty as always ma fille
Yn.cult Stopp, you’re making me blush🤭
Charles_Lecler I think you’re pretty too!
Alexandrasaintmleux i said it first tho😐
User1 THE WAY THEY’RE FIGHTING OVER HER😭😭
User2 Nah cause i’d do the same ngl
Ex.bf Staying there too! Maybe we should hang out!
Alexandrasaintmleux yeah no.
Charles_Leclerc Agreed.
User3 he shoot his shot but got rejected twice😭😭
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Yn.cult just posted!
Liked by Carlossainz55, Charles_Leclerc, Vougemagazine and 1,390,217 others
Yn.cult Omy to time square btw thanks for having me!💋
Tagged; Vougemagazine
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User4 How can one person look cute and hot at the same time
User5 it’s called the y/n effect✨
User6 Faxx☝🏻
User7 Nah who took the first pic?🤨
Vougemagazine lovely having you!
♥️ liked by the author
Alexandrasaintmleux Missing you so bad mon amour😢
…
Alex pouted, her brows knitted in a frown as she stared blankly at your post; constantly refreshing it to see whether or not you replied to her comment yet.
But every time she does, she gets disappointed—not seeing your reply just makes her grow fonder of your presence.
With a deep sighed, Alex turned off her phone and buried her face in y/n’s favorite pillow. The one she uses every time they sleep, the one that has her lingering smell on it, and the one Charles and Alex coddles up whenever they miss you. Which is constantly so they fight about whoever gets it.
Alex stared blankly at the ceiling, her mind was clouded with the thoughts of you. She just misses you so much it’s killing her. Literally.
The only reason you were out was because of your job; you love modeling that’s why they couldn’t have the guts to stop you from going. But now they just wished that they stopped you.
“Ughhhhh” she sighed, dragging the h along the tone of her boredness. Her voice echoing around the empty room which caught the attention of their boyfriend.
“What’s the matter, bébé?” Charles asked, peeking his head into the doorframe.
Alex lazily dragged her head up to face charles. “Everything’s cool, i just miss her is all” she mumbled, her voice laced with sadness and longing.
Charles smiled emphatically, he knows what it’s like to miss you— he’s going through that too but he’s not taking it as hard like Alex though. He’s trying to act strong for the both of them, i mean someone has to, right?
Alex felt the couch dipped down as Charles sat besides her frame. “Should we call y/n and see what’s she’s up to?” He asked, rubbing soft circles around her back.
“No” she replied all muffled due to her head still facing down and resting on your pillow.
She wanted them to call you; to hear your sweet voice. Alex wanted nothing more than that, but then again she doesn’t want to disturb you and ruin your fun.
“Let’s just watch a movie and try to get our minds of her, yeah?” Sighing defeatedly, alex nodded her head and muttered a low ‘sure’ making Charles smile happily.
So that’s what they did, they watched a movie, and ate all the food they could find in the house until they fell asleep.
They woke up the very next day— saw your recent post and started to miss you like crazy again.
…
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Yn.cult Miss my two pouty babies!💋
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Got bored and wanted to make this, hope you guys enjoy itt!!
#imagine#fanfic#oneshot#f1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#f1 imagine#formula 1 x you#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1#charles leclerc scenarios#charles leclerc story#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc imagine#alexandra saint mleux#polyamory#throuple
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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!)
#house of the dragon#jacaerys targaryen x reader#jacaerys velaryon x reader#jacaerys x reader#jacaerys targaryen#jacaerys velaryon#hotd#hotd jacaerys#prince jacaerys#jacaerys velaryon one shot#jacaerys targaryen imagine#jacaerys x you
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Hiii is it alright if I request for a College!Camgirl!Ellie x college!reader? Could I also have a specific 💐 tag for when I ask things 😭😭?
PS: I love your work so fucking much, on my knees for them 💗🙏🏻
-💐
જ⁀➴ yes angel!! thank you <3 sorry this took so long btw!! lowkey had a bender over spring break and didn’t write 🫣
warnings: 18+, squirting, pet names, service top!ellie, camgirl!ellie, consensual video recording. photo credits to @ellies.galaxy on tiktok!
reqs are open 𝜗𝜚
────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────
“you can take it baby. know my girl can.” the auburn haired girl whispered, while guiding your hips to sink fully down on her brand new strap on that sits erect on her pale lap. the aforementioned 8 inch, lavender toy was generously gifted by one of her followers, with a message attached that simply said “to break her in.”
since moving in with ellie, you’ve gradually learned so much about her….possibly more than a roommate should. first, it was her adorable obsession with vintage video games, then the way she brings home little rocks and treasures she finds on the walk to class, then…it was finding her nude in front of a camera with your “missing” thong smothering her face.
but, you couldn’t possibly resist helping her, huh?
the video garnered tons, TONS of donations, likes, and subscriptions. her followers loved that it wasn’t a staged “getting caught” cliche, and that you fully indulged in her perverse energy. since then, she’s gotten lots of requests to keep you around in her videos, which you are more than happy to oblige.
the tip nudges against your cervix, a soft bulge appearing on your abdomen. as she shifts to zoom in on the precious sight, your long forgotten homework falls off the bed, papers sliding all across the floor.
“y’see that? how she’s fuckin swallowing me?” ellie asks the camera as she zooms in on the aforementioned “she”, being your fully stuffed cunt.
“els…please move….” you pant, digging your fingernails into her thighs as an anchor. “i…i’ll do….any-thng…” you whine desperately, dying to just rut into ellie’s hips on your own, but you know better. the first (and last) time you made that mistake, she tied you up with the vibrator on the highest setting for two hours, live-streaming the whole ordeal.
hey, at least she made over $500 off of it.
“show em how you feel, angel.” ellie coos, thrusting in and out agonizingly slow, propping the camera up on her dresser, the perfect angle to capture your doe eyes rolling effortlessly into the back of your head.
“els….ohmgd…please harder!”
without a word, ellie gets the most intriguing smirk on her face, massaging her calloused fingers into your hips for a moment….then suddenly gripping onto them, bouncing you on her cock unrelentingly. screaming her name, your legs go numb. every time your trembling hands go to grip onto her waist for support, she nudges you off, growing wetter and wetter watching you unable to stabilize yourself. a thin white ring forms around the base of her cock, that she scrambles to grab the camera and zoom in on.
“look at that…fuck.” she reaches down and thumbs on your clit, causing you to buck down into her even harder, if that’s possible at this point.
“gna…gna cum els….pleaseee…” you stare right into the camera, knowing that she’s gonna replay that moment over and over again later just to see the pathetic desperation in your eyes, your perfect pout penetrating her every thought.
“go ahead angel, cum all over this cock. show me how good it feels in you. how….how…god…how good i feel in you.”
those last words send you over the edge, collapsing into her while your entire body twitches. your tight, slick walls clench around the toy for the final time, her thumb on your clit encouraging you to drench ellie’s stomach and sheets.
“fuck…i got that shit on camera. you’re so goddamn hot.” she pans the camera down to her toned stomach, where your wetness is splattered. the euphoria hasn’t worn off yet, your eyelids heavy, vision blurry as ellie smooths down your hair delicately, throwing the camera onto her chair and cradling your head into her lap.
“such a good girl f’me…..”
#ellie williams au#ellie williams fanfic#ellie williams imagine#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams headcanons#ellie williams tlou#ellie williams smut#ellie smut#ellie x reader#ellie the last of us#ellie williams#ellie tlou#ellie x fem reader#tlou2#the last of us#the last of us fanfiction#tlou#the last of us 2#buckleysbitch writes#buckleysbitch#💐#💐 anon#buckleysbitch 💐 anon
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cry | matt sturniolo
contents: established relationship; face slapping (m receiving); handjob (m receiving); degradation; edging; dacryphilia; sub!matt
♡⊹𑄽୧
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ notes: SUB MATT MY BELOVED!!! i’ve been… somewhat interested in face slapping and humiliation, if you guys couldn’t tell. btw so many requests for chris i promise i will work on them asap! not proofread as usual but hope you enjoy this and missed sub matt as much as i did! special thanks to my bestest friend @thepubeburgler for the idea, patience and support ♡ much love!
♡⊹𑄽୧
matt had been acting like a brat throughout the entire night, talking back and rolling his eyes. he enjoyed playing the tough guy, especially when he knew i could easily punish him for having an attitude.
matt had his back against the headboard, the brightness from his phone screen reflecting on his glasses as he scrolled mindlessly. i dragged my feet across the room, stopping by his drawer and picking some of his clothes for myself.
i removed my shirt and my shorts, staying with my lingerie on as i untied my hair, allowing the locks to fall down on my shoulder and reaching for some wipes to remove my makeup.
i heard matt shifting around on the mattress, a cough coming from the back of his throat as he watched me undress. i turned my head to take a look at him, chuckling when i noticed the tent forming on his pants. he didn’t say a word and waited patiently until i walked towards his direction, lying down next to him and turning to the side, giving my back to him.
he let out a low whine when he understood that he was, in fact, getting punished for his behavior. matt adjusted himself and wrapped his arm around my waist, bringing his hips closer to mine in a tight hug. i could feel his boner poking my ass, the kisses he started placing on my shoulder were a silent plea for me to touch him.
“stop” i said, giving a light tap on his thigh. he whined again, slowly grinding his hips against me, trying to get some relief to his aching cock. “matthew.” i called again, this time turning around and quickly placing my fingers around his jaw, my grip tightening as he pouted.
“you think you can be a fucking brat all night long and get away with it? by humping me?”
“w-wasn’t humping” matt tried to explain himself, lowering his hands to his crotch in a failed attempt to cover his hardened dick.
“oh, you weren’t? what’s this, then?” i gently took his wrist, placing my palm around his cock, still covered by the sweater he was wearing. i could feel a wet patch starting to form, the mocking tone in my voice making it harder for him to hold himself. “need your help” he asked, his blue eyes staring at me through the glasses.
“take it off” i commanded and matt quickly removed his pants, his dick almost slapping against his belly. he sat down again, glancing at his own leaking tip, as if asking for me to touch him. matt was huge — i couldn’t close my fist around his shaft nor fit him without getting stretched out by his fingers first.
“what are we gonna do with this tiny little thing?” i said the exact opposite of what he was, wrapping my knuckles around his shaft and slowly stroking him. his cock twitched inside my hand, trying to hold his hips from bucking forward. “eager much?”
“‘m sorry” he whimpered, “i’ll be good, i j-just need you”.
“now you wanna be good?” i asked, fastening my pace. matt threw his head back, letting his mouth hang open. “words, matthew”
“d-don’t call me that” he didn’t enjoy that i was punishing him. no pet names, no kisses, no praises. “please, i’m being a g-good boy!” he complained, slightly pouting.
“good boys don’t talk back” i cupped his balls, caressing them. my touch was soft and gentle, unlike my words. “good boys wouldn’t need to be punished for misbehaving” i cooed, pecking his lips to show that i wasn’t, in fact, mad at him.
“i’m sorry!” matt cried when i took my thumb to his tip, circling the pre-cum that leaked from his slit. “wan’… cum” he whispered, trying to not sound so desperate.
“already?” i chuckled at him, still jerking him off. i gave his cock a few more pumps before loosening my grip, stopping my movements. “you’re not cumming until i say so”
his blue, puppy eyes started watering, and i denied with my head. matt then raised his hands and brought them to my chest, reaching for my tits. i allowed him to grope them for a while before slapping him. my palm flew to his face, the tingling sensation making matt choke on a moan, feeling the warmness spread across his cheek.
matt had his lips apart and flushed cheeks, already looking completely fucked out. tiny droplets of sweat started to form, gluing his brown strands to his forehead. the tingling sensation grew on his skin, sending another wave of pleasure to his body.
“are you gonna be a good boy for for me, baby?” i said, caressing the spot i had just slapped, slowing pumping him again.
matt nodded desperately, the tears on corners of his eyes falling across his face “y-yes! i’m good boy, i promise!”
i fastened my pace and matt started to buck his hips forward, trying to fuck into my fist in a pathetic, sloppy pace. “you wanna do it yourself?” i asked, noticing how desperate he was to cum.
“no” he whimpered, both sweat and tears mixing together as they reached the corner of his mouth. “jus’— ngh! wanna cum!”
“hold it” i spoke, stopping my movements on his shaft. matt wouldn’t stop whimpering, his thighs trembling from being edged for too long. his face was damp and he panted heavily, doing his best to postpone his orgasm.
i came closer to him, my free hand cupping his cheeks and wiping his tears away. matt was so close to breaking, the edging and the degradation along with my thumb circling his tip — it was all too much. i knew he wasn’t going to use his safeword because, after all, he really wanted to be a good boy and take his punishment like one.
i grabbed his cock one last time, stroking his shaft quickly as he opened his mouth, not wanting to hide his moans anymore. “cum, cum!” he cried, begging for me to give him permission.
“gonna make a mess for me?” i cooed and matt nodded desperately. “can— ah! please!?”
spams took over matt’s body as he came — without permission —, the knot on his lower belly finally getting some relief. he groaned loudly, losing control of his own sounds while his orgasm washed over him, painting his own tummy in white, thick spurts of cum.
i talked matt through his orgasm, peppering kisses across his face, telling how good he had been for taking his punishment. it took him a while to come back to his senses, his noises becoming low, tiny whimpers as he recovered.
i removed my hand from him and cleaned both of us with the sheets, going back to headboard and opening my arms so he would come cuddle.
“so mean” matt teased, putting his tongue out like a little kid. “slapped me n’ everything” he pretended to be upset, rubbing his red cheek.
“i couldn’t help it” i giggled as matt made his way to my embrace, nuzzling his face against my chest, a silent ‘thank you’ for taking care of him. i kissed the top of his head, soothingly scratching my fingers on his back. “you just look so pretty when you cry”.
♡⊹𑄽୧
taglist (drop a 🌸!): @thepubeburgler @submattenthusiast @pearlzier @mattsfavbitchhh @her-favorite @bugeyedgrl @sturncakez @riowritesitall @joemamaaa42069 @mattsturnswife @sturnsmia @sturnthepot @mattscoquette @conspiracy-ash @ilovemattsturn @lizzymacdonald06 @blahbel668 @fratbrochrisgf @bagsbyclair0 @sturnobsessedwh0re @cayleeuhithinknott @sturniolo04 @1c3b4th @mattsfavbigtitties @bellassturniolo @sturnsxplr-25 @karttpet @ivammbb @shadowthesim @eyehrjkwjen
#matthew sturniolo#matthew sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo x reader#matt x reader#matt x y/n#sub!matt#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo smut#sturniolo imagine#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo x reader#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#nick sturniolo
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You asked for mike request and I only think abt him at the moment so imma tell you all of them.
-so mike coming home from work (established relation ship btw) and see you sleeping in his clothes and on his bed and just like awakens something in him like makes him love more.
THE COMFORT OF YOUR ARMS M.S
the gif i used is not mine! all credit goes to the owner!
Author’s note: thank you for requesting love!! this was such a cute ideaa i love my bf mike < 3
Mike Schmidt x gender!neutral reader
Warnings: nothing just fluff
masterlist
Mike was exhausted. It had been a long night and all he could think about was going home and cuddle up next to you. It was early in the morning when Mike locked the entrance to the pizzeria and tiredly drove back home. His mind felt blank, drained and all he could think about was you.
A soft hum escaped his lips as he finally unlocked the front door. The brunette sighed tiredly before kicking of his shoes and tossing his jacket somewhere on the couch. The house was quiet, the early sunlight beemed through the curtains making Mike muffle a soft yawn.
His feet dragged him to the bedroom, ready to fall on the soft duvet next to you. Mike blinked a few times to adjust his eyes to the dark room but thanks to the early sunrise (and broken curtain you were working on replacing) he stopped Infront of the bed to admire you curled up wearing his favorite hoodie. You had your arms wrapped around a pillow together with his side of the blanket. Your boyfriend couldn't help but smile at the adorable sight in front of him. God. You looked beautiful. He thought. And as he predicted It once again felt like all of his worries disappeared the moment he saw you.
Your boyfriend carefully crawled next to you and successfully pulled away the pillow you were holding. A content smile crossed Mike's lips as he wrapped his own arms around you instead, kissing the top of your head in the process. His breathing relaxed as he enjoyed this peaceful moment he longed all night for.
Mike's eyes glanced up at the ceiling before reminding himself to remove the leftover tape of the Nebraska poster he ripped off. He knew how hard you had been trying to make his house more cozy and welcoming for him and Abby and he couldn't be more grateful. You were well aware of your boyfriend's dream adventures but Mike always made a promise to never wander off at night when you were with him. As much as you reassured him you didn't mind he kept his ground.
You knew how important 'sleep' was for Mike and this was a part of him you couldn't help with. This was his own journey. But still it was hard. You already saw Mike less often during the day because of your new office job and now you had to miss him during nights as well. When Mike was home, you didn't see a lot of him either, he kept himself tucked away in the bedroom reliving the same memory over and over again. It broke your heart seeing him so in pain, so absent and obsessed with memories even after all these years of knowing him. But it was a part of Mike you couldn't help him with, it didn't matter how much you tried, it was his journey. His way of finding peace. So moments like this, when you were both wrapped in each others arms you both savoured to the fullest.
Mike stroked your hair, making you softly stir before comfortably laying your head further on his chest. "hmm missed you." You mumbled tiredly, not really awake yet. Mike chuckled at your adorable state. His clothes looked so good on you and he couldn't help but feel some sort of pride of catching you wearing them when he wasn't around.
"Missed you too baby." He whispered before pressing another kiss to your hair. "Try getting some more sleep."
You hummed, slipping your hand under his shirt and wrapping your arm around his waist. "I love you." You murmured, already dozing off again.
"I love you more princess." He smiled, before the unbearable exhaustion took over and lulled him into sleep aswell.
My requests are open! :)
Let me know if you want to be added for future work!
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Hi could you write some angst about a deeply insecure reader who hates her appearance and is sort of friends with Elena and everyone(pushed to the side kind of relationship)but when klaus comes around it’s clear that she has a crush but believes he’s out of her league then klaus uses it to his advantage by showing an interest in her for information and helps her with her self worth.klaus then starts to develop feelings for her but then it’s revealed that he was just manipulating her and reader is devastated and utterly humiliated and it sets her back to how she was before him.(sorry if that was a really long explanation,you can decide the ending)thanks I love your writing btw
Real
Growing up in Mystic Falls is a bizarre experience.
There were town events almost every month where you had to dress up and act better than everyone, parents basically had a competition over who had the prettiest daughters or the most handsome sons.
Not my parents.
They didn't think I was good enough to even pretend that I could compete. I was told my worth from a young age and became more aware of it with time. When your own parents don't think you're good enough it's sort of an eye-opener if you will.
It didn't help that everyone in this town seemed to be born into modelling.
Somehow I was lucky enough to wind up 'friends' with people like Elena, Caroline and Bonnie but I knew I didn't belong with them. Somehow they were gorgeous enough to get whatever they wanted.
Sometimes I wondered if everyone else at the age of 17 looked like them and I was behind or if somewhere, I was above average. I doubted it. A lot.
Occasionally I would look at a mirror and think that I wasn't even that bad to look at. There was nothing particularly ugly about me, there just wasn't anything special. I looked plain in a way, bland and forgettable.
I was very forgettable actually. My 'friends' made that abundantly clear throughout the years when they would go out without me or forget to ask if I also wanted something or liked something.
Somehow I was of no value to them. Perhaps I was simply there to amplify their beauty. Like a DUFF. I was definitely the DUFF.
Damon actually told me that I was once, after Tyler had made the joke and Damon asked what it meant. Even though I already knew it to be true, to be told it was much worse.
You could sort of tell everyone else was thinking it, especially when I was stood beside Caroline.
Stefan was the only one who was nice but I wasn't sure if it was out of pity or just because that was who he was. Then again, I'd rather just not know.
So I tried my best to keep in the background, avoid attention and stay out the way.
Even with all the vampire and werewolf drama that took course, I kept myself quiet and to the side. Strangely it was Katherine who was kind to me, whether she had an ulterior motif I'm not so sure anymore but she never hurt me in the time she was there. Neither did Elijah when he came to town, he was polite to everyone but it was obvious that my presence was irrelevant to him.
And then of course, Klaus arrived.
I didn't officially meet him until the senior prank night, he sort of just threw to the side and told me to keep my mouth closed and not to bother running because he'd just kill me. Part of me thought about running anyway so he would just end it but I didn't.
Klaus dragged me by my wrist into his car, told me to keep quiet while he drove Elena to the hospital. For whatever reason he brought me along and left me in the car as he went to drain her of blood for his hybrids. I did as told: sat silently and waited.
He came back out and spoke to Damon for a moment, I saw them glance over in my direction only for Damon to laugh and smirk. I sighed to myself and got out the car. It was clear that Klaus thought I could be a good pawn but was surly mistaken and Damon told him to do whatever he wanted to me. In response I walked home, neither noticed so it was fine.
A week or so later he came back, crashed homecoming or something? I dunno, I wasn't there but I was told about it the next day via a stroppy Caroline.
It was that same day that he came and sat beside me at the grill. I ignored him for the most part, confused by his attempt at what I could only guess was flirting? I wasn't really sure. I think he could tell.
"Not easily impressed are you love?" he questioned as he leant forward, uncomfortably close. I sort of just looked at him, still unsure to what he wanted. A smirk pulled at the end of his lips and his hand lifted, his fingers wrapping around a piece of my hair making frown and pull away abruptly. Without hesitation I stood up and spun on my heel, going to leave. His laugh followed me and a hand grabbed my waits, it was stange.
"Calm down love, It's not like I was going to rip it out, I just wondered what it felt like" he chuckled, pulling my back flush against his front making me tense and squirm.
"It feels like hair" I stated simply "Now get off" I grunted, shoving my elbow into his side to make him let go. I kept walking, keeping my eyes on the ground.
The next time I saw him he apologised for the previous encounter which again, i didn't understand but there was no point in questioning and arguing so I just accepted it and tried to leave but he asked if I'd stay for one drink, he asked so nicely and he smiled. I was stupid enough to think it was genuine and accepted.
Looking back it was pretty obvious that this was a game for him or a trap, whatever you want to label it but in the moment I ignored what was right in my face. Deep down I knew it was all a joke of sorts really.
But no boy, let alone a man had shown me this sort of attention and the soft fluttering it made me feel had me staying for far too long. I listened to his little stories and asked a range of questions as the drinks kept coming. He asked a couple about me but i gave relatively vague answers. There wasn't much I had to give him on me, I wasn't up for a pity party about friends and I didn't really fancy talking about my shitty parents either. I think Klaus picked up on the fact that I didn't really want to talk about me and eventually gave up with it.
It was late when I realised I needed to get home and he offered to take me which I admit made me wary. I didn't want him to kidnap me and think I'd be any good as leverage again, though I guess Damon made that pretty clear already. I decided to just walk home which he eventually accepted and got into his car.
Walking by myself probably wasn't my best option after drinking so much in one go but I made it home with minimal stumbling. My mother shook her head when she saw me and asked what was wrong with me. When she realised I had been drinking her mind jumped to two very different conclusions. The first being that I was being a slut which was ironic as in the past she'd made it clear that no guy would want to sleep with me, and the second being that I had taken pills to kill myself.
Listening to her drastic thinking made me wonder what kind of pills she was on but I didn't question it and waited for my father to come and take her to bed, telling her to just ignore me. Then I proceeded to make my way to the bathroom, getting changed and washing my face before going to my bed.
My phone dinged making me sigh, thinking it was Elena asking me to help her with something dumb and life threatening however much to my surprise it was Klaus. A smile involuntarily spread across my face and we messaged back and forth before he told me to rest.
The following few days he would just check in. Not too much but he also made it clear that he hadn't forgotten me which was all I had ever truly wanted from someone. To be acknowledged at the very least.
Of course I didn't tell the others that he had been talking to me, besides they didn't ask so I didn't see why I should. I guess I just wanted something for myself.
I wasn't completely stupid. I always had the feeling that he was using me, especially towards the start...but he was just so wonderful with his words and his ways.
When he began to make and buy sweet gifts and claim they were tokens of his affection, I couldn't help the blush on my face. When he would find a way to have his skin against mine, or how he would pick up my hand and gently tug my along. Somehow we always seemed to end up somewhere for food, and he would always refuse to let me pay.
Something about him was so enticing, addictive if you will.
He began to make me feel a certain way. He made me warm and happy. His touch was so soft, it made me feel like I was buzzing. i was stupid for thinking he could feel the same way about me.
I had been so scared to admit my feelings.
He had assured me that he would never push me to.
He told me that he liked me, that he didn't want me to be frightened of him or nervous around him. "Not unless it's the sort of nervous that puts butterflies in your stomach sweetheart" he had teased and my cheeks had glowed red.
Over the space of months his presence never lessoned. He always made time to see me, and speak with me. I found myself longing for his voice, his touch.
On days where he was too busy at home, he would urge me to come over. I would spend as long as I possibly could with him, a few times I even stayed over but he had slept on top of the duvet so that I would feel comfortable.
This had gone on for a small while until he actually said the words 'I love you'.
Perhaps I was just so happy to actually hear those words. Maybe I believed them to be true, real. Or I just saw what I wanted to see, heard what I wanted to hear and ignored the rest.
The time I gave myself to him used to make my smile and blush. Now it just makes me feel dirty, humiliated and embarrassed.
Knowing that he could and has had his hands all over my body, his lips and eyes. In the moment I felt like a goddess, probably because that’s what he told me I was. The memory of him inside me haunts me. I had thought it to be such a beautiful experience, romantic and personal.
I wish I could say that I had slept with him only once but as the months went by we would share intimacy often.
I had even told him that I loved him, so many times and I meant it for all of them.
So you should understand why it was so hard to accidentally hear him tell his sister that he had been compelling me for any information on the others.
It had felt as though my heart had stopped when the words hit my ears and tears already made my eyes burn. I heard a weak laugh and turned my head to see Damon, strung up by chains whilst bleeding all over, looking straight back at me.
“Y/n…” I heard Klaus’s voice, his tone one of panic or maybe it was just surprise. He probably didn’t want me to know of his routine. Damon only rolled his eyes and gave me look,
“You didn’t…think it was real, right?” He coughed, a cruel smile on his face.
His words just made me quieter. They made me think. Why did I think it was real?
My eyes slowly lifted to meet Klaus’s. I could see and feel Rebekah looking at me, everyone was silent. Even Damon shut up for a second. I think maybe he was expecting me to say something but I didn’t really have anything to tell him.
As awful as it all made me feel, and even with the amount of emotions swallowing me, I felt more disappointed in myself than I did him.
My right hand went to my left arm, pinching my skin through my jumper in some sort of hope that I’d wake up from some stupid nightmare but it didn’t work.
The first tear fell from my eye and I sniffed to keep the other ones from coming.
Klaus just looked at me, I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, I didn’t want to know either. I could just guess anyway.
So without a word I just turned around and left, walking quickly back out the door before breaking into a sprint in the direction of my house. I could feel the mascara running down my face, ruining the foundation I had only recently started wearing, for Klaus’s benefit.
My hands wiped at the tears as I pushed my from door shut behind me and went upstairs, blocking out the annoyed voices of my parents and locking myself in my room.
It was only once I was in the shower that I was flooded with memories. That I remembered all the things I had done with him. By the time I stepped out of the bathroom my skin was scrubbed raw in an attempt to wash his touch away. Even the slightest touch made me feel as though my body was burning, stinging with pain but I would have rather felt that every day than have to realise Klaus had been using me for over a year now.
I was curled in my bed, hidden under the blankets and surrounded by the dark as I let every comment not matter how small or petty play back through my mind.
I wasn’t even sure who to be upset with. I chose myself.
Klaus must’ve known I was an easy target. Desperate. I wonder how much he’s had me tell him. To be fair I knew more than you’d expect about what was going on. I had gotten good at observing and overhearing so I still knew what was going on, even when spending so much time with Klaus himself.
I also wondered what else he had compelled me to do. I hoped he wouldn’t do anything other than ask questions but I couldn’t help that fear creep inside me. It made me sick to my stomach, and then I wondered if he would just wait to compel me again so that I could continue to be his information feeder.
The idea made my fingers dig into my arm, bruising the skin purple but I wouldn’t stop. I only did so that I could go get some vervain that I kept downstairs in one of the cupboards at the back. I was reaching for the little glass bottle when I heard a door close. I spun around quickly to see Klaus in the doorway of my kitchen. My hand clutched onto the vervain tightly and I noticed his eyes glance at it briefly. His hands went up as if to show no harm but there was no way I would believe that meant a thing.
“Sweetheart- listen to me..” he began and I let out a breathless laugh
“Get out” I whispered making him sigh and frown as though he had the audacity to be upset or annoyed.
“Y/n..”
“No Klaus. I’m fucking serious, get out.” I told him, my eyes watering again. I let out an involuntary whimper when he stepped forward making him stop and stand still.
“I never meant for you to know that” he whispered and I frowned, swiping a tear away.
“Sorry I ruined your plan” I mumble, exhausted.
“No- no I didn’t mean it like that- I meant that-“
“Klaus it’s fine” I murmur, avoiding his eye, “It’s fine, I get it. You needed to know what was happening, you got to be two steps ahead. I’d appreciate if you just found someone else now please”
I could feel his stare on me, it make my skin itch and I just needed him to go. I could feel my hand getting clammy as I held onto the bottle.
“I haven’t compelled you in such a long time” he muttered, as though maybe that made it better. “I used to, but I truly have fallen for you Y/n. I love-“
“Please get out” I cut him off, my spare hand resting on my forehead to cover my eyes.
“I love you”
“No you don’t” I cry, “you wouldn’t do this to someone you love. I know you don’t love me. You never have and you never could. You’re just pretending again so I’ll let you control me, I don’t like it” I whimper, tears streaming again. I could hear him getting closer but I was already against the counter and I couldn’t out run him. There was no point in trying.
“Sweetheart, I’ll never use you again-“ he tried to argue but I couldn’t listen to it.
“I really, really need you to leave. Please Klaus just get out, I can’t stand you” I tell him honestly and for a second as I look up at him, he looks almost sad but I have to assume it’s still apart of his act.
“You- you’re not going to do anything…anything harmful are you? To yourself, I mean.” He asked and I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me. I should never have told him that I’d had those thoughts or feelings once. I shouldn’t have ever said a word to him.
“No…now go away” I whisper, my hands trembling as I stared at the ground, listening to his footsteps eventually get further away.
I knew there was no way I could sleep, he was probably still outside my house. Waiting.
I wasn’t sure what he was waiting for but I could him there.
I had no idea what I was going to do.
#angst no happy ending#tvdu angst#klaus mikaelson angst#angst no comfort#klaus mikaelson#the originals#the vampire diaries#klaus mikaelson x reader#klaus mikealson fanfiction#klaus mikaelson one shot#klaus mikaleson imagine#elijah mikaelson#rebekah mikaelson#the vampire diares imagine#kol mikaelson#niklaus imagines#niklaus mikaelson#tvd klaus#klaus m#klaus mikaelson x y/n#klaus michaelson#tvd universe#hope mikaelson#klaus mikaelson headcanon#klaus mikaelson fluff#klaus mikaelson yandere#klaus mikealson smut#klaus mikaelson x yn#klaus mikealson x reader#tvd fanfiction
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Hey!! Idk know if you are taking requests right now but can you write a Theo x Hufflepuff reader imagine where the reader is always telling him to make friends from other houses. He finally does make friends but with a beautiful Ravenclaw and starts spending more time with her. The reader starts feeling insecure and ignores Theo. He soon realises that she is ignoring him and talks to her.
Btw I love your writing and can you please tag me if you do write it?
Too Friendly
Theodore Nott x reader
Warnings: Swearing, allusions to sex but no sex.
Description: The reader wants Theo to make more friends but when he does, she becomes insecure about their bond.
Sorry this took so long to get out, I'm in the middle of my final exams of high school so I don't have much time. I enjoyed writing this one. Thanks for the request @orphicmortala
“It’s sad, Theo, you’ve got, like, no friends!” You said as you tried your best to remember how to tie your yellow tie.
“What do you call Malfoy, then?” Theo asked from the bed.
“An accomplice,” you replied with that unique snark that Theo loved about you, “You need friends from other houses— Friends that aren’t just me.” You added those final words hastily before he could open his mouth in protest.
Theo rolled his eyes and beckoned you over. His hands glided over the folds of your tie with expertise, undoing the mess of a knot you’d created in order to do it up properly and perfectly. When he was done, he looked up at you with his gorgeous, oceanic eyes and the corners of his mouth where both his beautiful lips connected turned upwards. You uttered your thanks quietly as you resisted the primal urge to just not go to class at all and instead spend the whole day with him. Your mind wandered off to imagine being stuck between Theo’s checkered emerald sheets, but you brought it back to reality.
Fending off your lustful desires as well as a nun would, you bid adieu to Theo and hurried out of his room and the Slytherin common room. On your way out, you dodged the teasingly crude jokes and names that Theo’s friends tossed towards you and told Pansy that she was no better than yourself (you’d seen the way she snuck out of that empty classroom after Draco a couple days earlier, her hair and clothes all dishevelled and her thighs rubbing together uncomfortably).
The whole day, Theo dwelled on your words. While you weren’t exactly dating or in a relationship, he always found himself bound to your every word and every whim. You seemed to dictate his life in a way that you certainly shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help but listen to you. So, in Arithmancy, he didn’t sit next to Blaise as he usually did, instead electing to sit with Lisa Turpin, a Ravenclaw girl he’d seen you talk to a few times.
She looked at him in confusion, “Did you need something?”
He withheld the instinct to say some snide remark and instead replied, “I thought I’d make a new friend today.”
“On some random Tuesday… in our Sixth year?” Her face contorted to expose her obvious disgust.
“Merlin’s cock and balls, I’m trying to be nice, Turpin!” Theo frowned and picked up his bag to go sit elsewhere.
Turpin grabbed his wrist as he stood up and her lips made a thin line as she pulled him back down to the seat. Her brows knitted together like a homemade sweater and she breathed out a sigh of defeat.
“No, it’s okay, sorry,” she said, “Sit here if you’d like.”
Over the next week, Theo made some serious efforts to get to know Turpin despite his friends’ obvious, loud verbal opposition. After that first Arithmancy class, Blaise had practically torn him to shreds with his massive speech on house loyalty and the horrible impact that you were clearly having on him. Daphne had recited the same speech her mother had given to her on her first day of her first year at school about how interrelations with students from the lesser houses was a gateway drug to blood sympathy (she’d given him the same speech when he started his little thing with you). And Pansy, Merlin’s beard, Pansy was furious.
Pansy had constructed this whole idea in her mind that you hated that Theo was talking to Turpin. She called it “cheating” which Theo had adamantly disagreed with. He wasn’t having sex with Turpin, in fact, he had absolutely zero romantic interest in her. He barely even liked her. The only thing the two had in common was Arithmancy and every time they hung out they talked about it until there was no more Arithmancy to talk about. It was, quite frankly, boring. Turpin was boring.
“It’s emotional cheating,” said Pansy in a huff as she and the others started towards the Great Hall for Monday breakfast.
“Emotional cheating?” Theo asked skeptically.
“Yes, Nott, emotional cheating,” she nodded, “And it’s hurting Y/n’s feelings. That’s why she hasn’t spoken to you all week.”
His gaze snapped to focus on Pansy whose black eyes were ablaze with the feminine rage of a girl’s best friend, “How do you know she hasn’t spoken to me all week?”
Pansy smirked, her honey red lipstick bright against her pale skin, and shrugged. She knew you hadn’t spoken to him all week because you wouldn’t shut up about it. In Divination on Wednesday afternoon, you’d all but assaulted Pansy with questions about Theo’s newfound interest in Turpin. All of which Pansy had no helpful responses to.
“Is he flirting with her?” You asked.
“Maybe, I don’t know, it’s not like they sit with us,” said Pansy, struggling to focus on the crystal ball with all your chatter.
“Why not? Why don’t they sit with you? Are they trying to be private?” You pushed almost frantically.
“Uh, possibly? Honestly, I just think he knows we don’t like her,” she explained.
“Why don’t you like her? Is she a bitch?” You frowned and then quickly added in a judgmental tone, “Or are you just being blood supremacists?”
“Is she a mudblood?” Pansy stopped working to stare at you.
You smacked her hand and she hissed, “I don’t know her that well. Don’t say that.”
When Theo and his friends finally arrived at the Great Hall, he searched the tables for your face. While most people usually stuck to their house’s table, you were a social butterfly and loved to flutter from table-to-table to talk to all of your many friends. Sometimes he wondered how you weren’t a prefect despite your popularity and the respect the younger years gave you. His eyes found Turpin first and she beamed and waved him over, but he blatantly ignored her. Pansy and Daphne watched on with delight as the girl cringed with embarrassment and turned back to her meal with bright red ears.
A spot of h/c hair floated above a robe lined with yellow and he abandoned his friends to go to you. You were standing at the end of the Hufflepuff table (not an unusual place to find you, but your favourite table was always the Slytherin one), and you were utterly consumed by a tale you were sewing for your housemates Hannah Abbott and Justin Finch-Fletchley.
“Y/n,” Theo spoke and his deep, smokey voice tore you straight out of your conversation, “Can we talk?”
Your eyebrows quivered and your blinking sped up as you took his appearance in for the first time all week. You hadn’t gone so long without speaking to him in at least three years (you got into an argument in your third year about the petrifications) and hearing his voice and seeing him so close was like throwing a former alcoholic into a sea of wine. There was nothing you wanted more than to indulge in him. But Hannah and Justin were glaring at him like hawks, or guard dogs, whichever was more intimidating.
“Um,” you glanced back at your friends and Hannah shook her head slightly, she’d never much liked Theo, “Sure.”
Hannah rolled her eyes and whispered something barely audible to Justin. Something about a “love-fucked pushover.” You ignored her. Theo took you to a pair of seats far from any prying ears and held your hands in his.
“You know I don’t like Turpin, right?” He said quietly.
You scoffed, “Yeah, right. And that’s why you spent all week with her.”
“I spent all week with her because you told me to!” He laughed with salt that spread itself over your wounded heart.
“Did I just? Because I really don’t remember saying ‘Hey, Theo, you know how I like you so much? I actually want you to go talk to another girl,’” you said sarcastically.
He held back a grin as best he could but the amusement glistened in his eyes and on his rosy, mole-spotted cheeks. His hand came up to your brow and massaged the frown out from between your eyebrows as you fluttered your eyelashes at him in the way you knew made him melt inside.
“I wanted to make friends for you,” he told you with that soft, romantic tone he used in bed.
“Don’t,” you ordered, “You’re Theodore Nott, you aren’t supposed to be friendly.”
For the first time in a week, he got a good look at you. He hadn’t realised how much he missed the sight of your h/l h/c hair and the way it framed your stunning face so perfectly that you appeared to have stepped right out of a portrait. He hadn’t realised how much he missed how your eyes, an elegant e/c and perpetually glossy as if always on the verge of tears, examined every centimetre of his face. He hadn’t realised how much he missed doing your tie up for you until he saw it tied like a bow around your neck.
“I’m friendly to you,” he said as his hands pulled at the end of the tie and it fell apart over your chest.
“And that’s all you need, I think,” you whispered pleasantly and pressed a loving kiss to his lips as he looped the tie around itself twice and pushed the end through the gap, tying it perfectly.
#theo nott#theo nott x reader#theo nott x you#theodore nott x reader#hp fandom#theo nott x y/n#slytherin x reader#draco malfoy x reader#harry potter x reader#theo nott imagine#theodore nott imagine#theo nott fanfic#theodore nott fanfic#theodore nott x y/n#mattheo riddle x reader#regulus black x reader#tom riddle x reader
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Hi! I hope ur having a good time. Sorry, for the phrasing, English is not my first language hehe (。>\\<) btw i really like ur writing! u keep them in character and also ur amazing at writing fluff ♡(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ can I please ask for a gojo fluff where he realizes reader always wanted to have a small boyfriend to like call him baby boy to sit on her lap and spoil him and stuff and then gojo goes apeshit like trying to sit on her with his long ass limbs trying to be a babyboy idk hehehe anyways tysm
"I'm your baby boy, right?"
GOJO さとる + fem!reader
Satoru thinks he's smaller than he actually is, and tries curl up on you like a cat.
Note : hey hey! srry i took so long to write this omggg it got lost in my drafts. but!! it's such a sweet idea thank u for sending it in!! big beefy satoru trying to make himself ur small boy is a thought that gave me life 💗😖 and thank u so much for ur kind words it means a lot!!
Satoru tries to curl up on you as if he's a little cat.
But he's not.
Ah, but he really thinks he is sometimes.
And he wants to be a little cat to you, not a big burly man or a strong intimidating menace but just a small, soft, delicate thing to be held and touched and pampered with love and care.
It makes you laugh, as you listen to him grunting and struggling to position himself on your lap and get those long limbs in order — it's one of the funniest sights; a big boy trying to box himself up like he's not 6'3 with broad-shoulders 'n thick arms 'n long spider-like legs.
"Do you think you're a cat or something?"
"Yes." he grins dumbly, balancing precariously on you as you sit. Then he sees your smile and slips off. "—oopsfuck!" he falls, gets up, acts it off, then tries again.
In bed, he wiggles down the sheets so his head is level with your chest. He wraps his arms around your middle, arches his back, and encases you between his legs. He clings to your body on his side like that, and snuggles his cheek on your chest as if it's his rightful pillow, the place where he belongs.
"Play with my hair, please?" he mumbles with pouty lips.
He smiles to himself when you fulfil his request.
Feeling both your warmth and your fingers stroking lovingly through his hair makes him drowsy. And when he's drowsy, he mumbles mental notes like "we need to buy orange juice tomorrow..." as he falls asleep.
His grip slackens as he falls asleep. In the middle of the night, he'll wake up and look at you with that puffy pouty sleepy face of his and stare for a moment, appreciating you, before tightening his embrace on your body and returning to slumber.
When he wakes up the next morning with you, he makes the same request; "Play with my hair." but with a raspy voice.
While you do so, he groaningly complains about having had nightmares all night.
"I keep dreamin' about saving the world 'n failing... but it's fine. I wake up and you're right here. So nothin' to worry about. Doesn't matter if I fail if I still have you."
He's so happy to be getting spoiled and pampered by you while curling his body up as small as possible. Happy that he has someone he doesn't have to be big and strong around. Someone who he can be a baby boy around.
Sometimes he's resting on your chest in the mornings in silence, when suddenly he rears his head up and asks "I'm your baby boy, right? Say it, please."
"Mhm. You're my baby boy, Satoru. Don't worry."
"Mm yay." he smiles to himself and resumes resting on you, his white hair tickling under your chin. "Say it again, please. Just keep saying it."
So you do, you say it repeatedly and it sounds like a soft lullaby to him. He falls back asleep with his ear pressed to your heartbeat, and feels a safe warmness in his chest.
"Oh." he startles out of his shallow sleep, "We need to buy orange juice, don't we?"
© arminsumi
I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.
This is fictional work.
#fluff#gojo fluff#gojo satoru#gojo#gojo x reader#x reader#jjk fluff#gojo x reader fluff#gojo satoru fluff#jjk gojo#jjk x reader#jujutsu gojo#jujutsu kaisen#gojo saturo#gojo x you#satoru#satoru x reader#satoru fluff#gojo satoru x reader
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A new ladder - Reader x Curly
BEFORE I START
Yes, another story of Curly. What can i do? I love him.
THIS IS ALL INSPIRED BY THIS AWESOME ARTIST THAT I FOUND ON TIKTOK
btw the curly of this story will kook like this so you can already imagine him.
The user is ladonb.kokosa
PLEASE GO CHECK THEIR ART ITS WONDERFUL
That being said. Lets get start with
Part 1 - Next
"Cryostasis ended"
"His vital signs are stable"
"Who could it be?"
"Disinfect the wounds"
"There are no more survivors"
"They authorized us to give him the implant."
The man could hear several voices in the distance, he saw silhouettes, shadows, he couldn't distinguish the people around him.
He felt them putting a mask on him to anesthetize him, and everything went dark again.
When he woke up, he saw a woman checking his signs, and he was astonished to recognize her despite some of her physical changes.
She was his fiancée, the woman he was supposed to marry after that trip.
Why did she look like that? She seemed older, but in his sigth, she remained beautiful.
He made some sounds to get her attention, causing her to turn and look at him. She approached and pressed something on his neck.
Curly: "Linda..."
Linda: "...No... Tell me it's not you..."
The woman immediately stepped back, covering her mouth, unable to believe what she was seeing.
She didn't recognize the man laying in that bed in front of her, and she prayed so hard that he wasn't the man she was going to marry, but the fact that he recognized her confirmed her fear.
He could understand the terror on her face, but he didn't know there was something else he didn't know.
She took a deep breath and set her fear aside, sitting next to the man.
Linda: "Curly... If it really is you..." she said, still holding out a small hope that it wasn't him, "You were cryogenically frozen for 20 years... They rescued you because the Tulpar re-entered orbit near Earth before running out of energy, they were able to detect it and bring it back without causing damage, and that's how they found you inside... You have been in the hospital for two weeks today..."
He wanted to laugh as if what he was being told was a bad joke, it couldn't have been that long, right?
But looking closely at her, the small wrinkles now on her face and the few gray hairs she had showed her that she was real.
Linda: "They didn't find any more survivors and... The same press has taken care of paying your medical expenses because they want to hear your story... You have an implant in your neck so you can speak, a voice box, you have to press it if you have difficulties but in a while you won't need to do it anymore... and they did a skin graft... Including some prosthetics..."
She carefully took the prosthetics of his arms and raised them so he could see them, Curly felt like a completely different being.
Linda: "I recommend that you ask for what you want now because... As soon as they find out you're awake... They're going to bombard you with questions and the press will come here, they won't show any mercy."
The man tried to raise the prosthesis and pressed his implant on his neck to be able to speak.
Curly: "What about us?"
Linda: "Oh Curly..." she sighed, "When you didn't come back, I thought the worst... That you were dead... I just keep going with my life... I married someone else, I have two children... There is no longer an 'us'."
Before he could say anything else, a reporter peeked in and made a fuss upon seeing him awake; the place filled up in seconds.
The woman lowered her head and left the room in search of security to throw out the press, but the harassment didn't end there.
Curly chose to give them the answers to the questions they had by scheduling a meeting at the hospital.
Thanks to this, many people started donating things to him, including money to help him reintegrate into society.
But beyond the kindness of people, no one wanted to take care of him and help him, not even the nurses, they said they couldn't spend too much time near him.
Linda took care of him during his stay in the hospital while they fixed up his house that had been left abandoned.
Linda: "I found someone who can take care of you."
She commented while pushing his wheelchair, entering his house, that it looked completely renovated.
Linda: "I don't know if you still remember that I mentioned my younger sister, (Y/n), a couple of times?"
Curly: "The one who lived with your father?"
Linda: "That's right... My mom got full custody of her after a few years, and since then she has been living with her until she became independent shortly after turning 18..."
Curly: "She was 12 back then..."
Linda: "She recently lost her job, I thought it would be a good opportunity for her. She is very responsible, I promise."
When they arrived in the room, he could see a woman standing and looking at the paintings hanging on the walls.
He had never met his fiancée's sister, but he had heard many stories about her, about how her father unjustly gained custody by labeling their mother as crazy, and since then they had fought to get the girl back.
He had been struck by how incredibly different she was from her sister; you two didn't seem related at all.
Linda: "Good thing you were already here," she mentioned with a smile to catch your attention.
When you turned to look at them, Curly didn't expect such seriousness from you towards your older sister.
"...Thank you for the job opportunity, I will do my best to help you," you mentioned, looking at the man, ignoring the woman.
Linda: "Let me show you where everything is-"
"I've already been getting familiar with the place, it's not necessary, you can go."
Linda: "At least let me tell you which medications you should-"
"You have already sent me a message with clear instructions. I can do this, Lin."
Curly: "You should be more respectful to your older sister."
Upon hearing him speak, you turned to look at him again, without any expression.
"...Lin"
Linda: "I'll leave, there is no problem. I'm sure you've already memorized everything to the letter. If you have any problem, don't hesitate to call me."
She indicated, she didn't want to make a scene and left without even saying goodbye to either of them.
"...So you are Curly... It's a pleasure to meet you, I hope we get along well."
You had already made a bad first impression on Curly by treating the love of his life so poorly.
"Lin left your pill organizer with me, and gave me the schedule for them, it's time for the first pill."
You took a bottle and opened it to take a pill, causing the man to tense up a bit as he remembered moments when he was given his painkillers.
Noticing his nervousness, you tilted your head somewhat confused and went to get something to drink so he could take the pill.
What a surprise he got when you brought him a cup of chocolate along with the pill.
"When I was little... I didn't know how to swallow pills, I would choke, so I would bite them... My dad used to give me pills with chocolate milk so I wouldn't have a bad taste in my mouth, don't you like the taste of the pills? These can be very bitter..."
He thought it was very kind of you to consider that, immediately regretting having judged you without knowing anything about you.
You helped him take the pills, giving him chocolate to drink slowly, it really helped with the bitter taste.
Maybe... you weren't so bad.
#A new ladder mouthwash#mouthwash#mouthwashing#mouthwashing game#mouthwashing x reader#curly mouthwashing#captain curly#captain curly x reader#curly x reader#mouthwashing curly
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Hiya! :D
Since askbox is open, may I please order some slight hurt-comfort based off of "From Eden" by Hozier? Harnessing the pure longing this song emanates to me fr.
Something like non-BAU!reader getting hurt by an unsub during a case (non-lethal but it does require a stitch or two) and spencer gets abnormally worried about this one person among the group of victims (maybe serial bank robberies) and when the team notices it and ask him about it he reveals to them that they're actually his roommate?
something romantic-leaning; I just like the idea of him standing outside the hospital room door [OMG LIKE THE SONG] because the doctors told him to wait before he could go inside sitting there like 🥺 "My roommate :(" and getting embarassed when the team calls reader his partner; "You're so worried it's almost like you're dating." sort of feel
Sorry if this is long btw! I tend to go all out on ideas! Pronouns are up to you though, feel free to change anything to your liking as well! :]
Thanks for reading! :D
Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Trope: Roommates; Comfort, Fluff, Angst w.c: 1.2k A/N: There's so much interpretation for 'From Eden by Hozier' and I had a challenging time trying to capture which meaning I wanted to encapsulate. This is also by far the longest request I've written and honestly this took a life of its own but I still hope you like it! Main masterlist
Eden. // Spencer Reid
The monotone droll in the bank was white noise in your life that you learned to slowly hate. Day in, day out it was the same thing—customers withdrawing, depositing, and claiming loans. You liked numbers, that was how you ended up as a manager, but the cookie cutter business smile you had to keep on your face was a con you wish to part from.
You sighed. Your roommate turned secret crush, Dr. Spencer Reid, had warned you about the serial robberies that had happened within the state of Virginia and Washington. He advised you to be vigilant and if possible, to keep your phone within your reach and you easily agreed having heard some of the macabre cases he’d been involved in.
You just didn’t think it would happen today.
“Get down on the ground!” A man’s voice echoed throughout the lobby, followed by a series of gunshots.
Spencer’s voice played in your head as if he was a lighthouse guiding you out from the panic. Hide. Don’t panic. Press the hidden alarm and dial my number.
You thanked your past self for programming his contact on speed dial. Volume down and no words uttered, you hid the phone inside your blouse hoping to not get caught.
“You there!” One of the masked men caught sight of you. “Outside. Now!”
You nodded, averting your eyes to show submission. Another tactic from Spencer.
Wishing the call picked up the trio of robbers voices, you stayed facing down on the lobby surround by the rest of the hostages.
Spencer, please. Please, get my message.
Just a few miles away, tension was high in the BAU conference room. The round table littered with folders and cooling coffee mugs. The team was running on a mixture of caffeine and sheer will to solve the serial bank robber case, tagged as priority by Strauss, that had been terrorizing states for a span of months.
Spencer raked his already unruly hair. So far, the profile was incomplete. They knew there were three in the team but with varying heights and builds in various crime scenes, even that was shaky. What they were sure of was the sick game of Russian roulette they would play with their hostages, always with one bullet in a revolver and who ever is unlucky, dies with a hole between their brows and the remaining hostages are pistol whipped to unconsciousness.
He knew he should stay objective. He knew that but how could he, when who he considers as his secret flower was at risk every second the unsubs were at large? It was his mission to keep you safe and the chances of you being caught in the line of fire heightened each second.
Vibration from his pocket brought him out of his musings.
It was you. Right there and then, Spencer knew it was anything but good. You never called during work hours and with the last conversation between you having been about safety, it had settled in his stomach that the worst reality had come to fruition.
He picked up without saying a word, straining his ears to hear any distinguishable background noise. That was when he heard it—the authoritative, cocky voice yelling at you to come outside. His heart dropped.
No. No. No. Anything but this.
“Sir, we just got a call,” Penelope rushed into the conference room. “There’s a live hostage taking at—”
“—Commerce Bank. 125 Independence Boulevard,” Reid interjected.
The profilers shared a look.
“That’s right,” Penelope muttered.
Morgan raised an eyebrow at him as he hurriedly stood up and collected his belongings. “Wait Reid—” causing him to stop in his tracks and turn to face back at the team. “—How’d you know?”
“Because Y/N works there,” he promptly exits the room, hightailing it to the elevator.
Emily looked at JJ. “Who’s that?”
She shrugged, lost too on who you were.
———
The team had split into two vehicles. Hotch, Rossi, and Reid in one while Morgan Emily, and JJ in the other.
Rossi glanced at Hotch, communicating the tension Reid was releasing from the passenger seat. In turn, Hotch sneaks a peek via the rear view mirror and profiles Reid’s ticks—hands clasped tight together, right leg shaking up and down, eyes shifting from left to right, and deep breaths through the nose and mouth.
“Reid,” he called out.
Blown wide doe eyes meet his. “Hm?”
“We need you to stay focused. If you can’t do that, I’ll pull you out of this case.”
“I—I can do it!” His voice cracking.
“Are you sure, kid?” Rossi clarified.
He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s just she’s my—” roommate but that singular title wasn’t fitting to describe who you were to him. No classification was good enough, really. “—I can focus,” he declared.
There was a series of looks exchanged between the two senior agents. They didn’t need to be seasoned profilers to understand that their youngest is one slip away from panic.
Hotch sighed. “Alright, Reid, but you follow my orders. Got it?”
“Yes.”
———
Einstein’s theory of special relativity was what came to mind as he paced outside your hospital room. The physicist implied that time moves relative to the observer. An object moving very fast experiences time more slowly than in rest and that was exactly what he felt as he paces back and forth outside your room, desperately waiting for any update—the good or the bad. Everyone seemed to be moving at a leisure pace while he, Dr. Spencer Reid, hangs on the precipice of elation and despair.
The team had sent him away, to you specifically, when it was obvious that his otherwise objective mind was of no help in finishing up the case. Was it dreadful of him that he felt relief course through his veins when it wasn’t you that got the short end of the stick during the unsubs’ Russian Roulette? Yes, possibly but he was only human. A being filled with conundrums and good vs evil.
The impact of today was eye opening. He could no longer deny to himself that you were more than just a roommate or an acquaintance or a friend. Oh, how hard he tried so hard to push away any thought that seemed any less innocent or chivalrous, but the idea of seeing those beautiful eyes broken and in pain made him want to face the truth. The truth being how deliriously in love Spencer Reid was with you.
His phone rang, disturbing his mind-altering revelation thoughts.
“Hey kid,” It was Morgan. “How is she?”
Reid licked his lips, eyes trained on the still closed door. “I—I haven’t seen her. The doctors are still inside and I’m still here—outside.”
“I know this isn’t the time but should we know who she is?” A pause. “Girlfriend?”
“No. No, she’s my roommate,” his sigh coated in despair, murky and sad enough for Morgan to notice.
“You sounded so worried. It’s almost like you’re in love with her or something.”
“I am—” your door opened. “I have to go, Morgan,” he hung up before another word could be uttered.
“Are you Dr. Spencer Reid?” The female doctor asked.
He nodded.
She smiled. “She’ll see you now.”
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