#a prince with not a lot of favor

[wildrosesayshigh3]

I just had another og Shang Qinghua thought and I am once again making it everyone else's problem. 😁 Your welcome.

How bad was An Ding peak and Cang Qiong in general for the Orginal Shang Qinghua to look at the demon who just killed his Martial Siblings and go yep I’ll serve you go life and not dip when he feel unconscious. Like what?!

Not much is known about og Shang Qinghua’s morals but I imagine he would t be that much different from a regular person in the cultivation world…. So someone with a looser set of morals to ours but not by much.

So how bad was a ding peak were someone as ambitious and self persevering as og Shang Qinghua decides to throw his lot in the demon who killed his sect siblings so quickly?

Don’t get me wrong he was probably very ambitious and rising up to the ranks of An Ding would have taken longer but I don’t think by much.

[sxfik]

i think the thing about elody and gerard's conversation this week's episode is that both of them are speaking at each other, not too each other. which is fair because think about all that they've been through both in their lives and just in the past 13 episodes really, neither of them are actually communicating and they're so within their feelings and their progression that they aren't seeing each other...

[luffysprincess]

YOU🫵🏾

THOSE TAGS HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME.

THE HILT OF THE MASTER SWORD AMIRA IM SICK HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO MEEEEEEEEEE

🤭🤭

I haven’t played botw but Google was telling me that the master sword glows whenever link’s in a dungeon or near enemies with gloom and I think one of links favorite things to do is take you somewhere near danger but just out of sight. Just enough that the sword glows bc I hc that while it glows it hums in vibration. It’s subtle, something link barely notices when he’s holding it in battle but when he’s slowly pushing it in and out of you he notices it in the way your thighs clamp shut around his wrist, the way your eyes roll back and your moans get higher in pitch, and the way he finds it harder to move the sword now that your walls are tightening around the hilt even more than usual

Also don’t know if you’re into prince Sidon but have you ever thought of link bringing his lover to Zoras domain for the first time to meet him and the second he sees you he wants a piece. Some flirting happens and then Sidon is trying his luck w you to which you refuse bc you’re loyal to your hero but then he makes a bet with you. If he wins a swimming race against link he gets to do whatever he wants to you. Because you have no prior knowledge of the Zora ppl and bc in your mind there’s no one better or faster than link at swimming you agree. Fast forward and link’s lost, obv, but he refuses to be absent in this situation. So now prince Sidon has you sitting on his shoulders while he tastes you and link is sat in the corner stroking his cock to the way you go dumb on a shark’s tongue

[lloydfrontera]

theo thinking of winning his father's recognition even before he thinks about winning the position of crown prince and the power it conveys,,, wanting people's admiration,,, one of his motivations to become heir to the throne being sparing his brother's delicate health,,,

he's really just a kid that wants his dad's love and attention, that craves everyone's approval in the face of his father's neglect and who wants to take care of his older brother despite everything and everyone pitting them against each other

and he thinks he can gain all of that if he can just become crown prince.

is it any wonder he was so desperate to win the duel. or that he fell apart apart when the goal he'd worked for his entire life was snatched away from him no matter how much he told himself he was okay with the outcome??

[jackstheprinceofhearts]

Idk how to feel about Jacks’s decision to turn back time to be with Tella it felt so insanely selfish of him and Eva wasn’t okay with it but she just kept being like “I guess it’s his decision” like she would forget her entire life?? Idk I’m super confused about that entire situation. Like why couldn’t Eva just take the gems and say that she and Jacks don’t need to be together if he thinks he’ll kill her but she can’t give him permission to turn back time and change everything and have her re-live everything. Jacks obviously didn’t go through with it but why did he want to do it in the first place?

hello! so sorry i was late to this one 😭😭

jacks REALLY wanted love, and tella symbolized that for him. he also wanted evangeline protected and you have to remember that jacks has warped morals from being a fate so he probably saw it as protecting evangeline from getting hurt by him AND being able to get a happy ending for her and him at the same time. he saw it as killing two birds with one stone in a way.

evangeline however felt hopeless but i think she also in a way hoped jacks could get a happy ending?? i mean obviously she wanted it with her but as jacks knows so far tella is the only one he could be with.

hope that explains it a bit??

[killjoy-prince]

When I rejected Bhaal i got Astarion's support line for it and then talking to him about the aftermath was quite nice

[percheduphere]

LET'S TALK ABOUT LOKI'S SHOES (ACTUALLY, HIS WHOLE WARDROBE)

Production costs aside, clothes tell the audience about how characters think of themselves.

Loki's shoes in the S2 finale raised a lot eyebrows, but I find them quite fitting: they are comfortable, practical, and most importantly, they are humble. The camera brings this to our attention to communicate his evolution in character.

Loki has always dressed well, often times ostentatiously. Whether he is at war, passing as a Midgardian, or held captive as an Asgardian prisoner, Loki communicates his social class and sense of superiority through clothing. For him, clothing armors his fragile sense of self and against others' opinions of him. He intends to be perceived as deadly charming but ultimately unapproachable.

His attire in the first Thor movie is roughly equal parts green and gold, signifying his royal status. His style is dressed down for his brother's misadventures in Jotenheim, yet overall both silhouettes are lofty, princely, but not hardened or threatening.

In Avengers, Loki's look has more black and leather, with exaggerated emphasis on his shoulders meant to intimidate as he assumes the role of villain. The silhouette is very hard, heavy, and edgy. Gold detailing is prevalent as well. Combined with the goat's helm, this is Loki's most pretentious outfit, which speaks to an undercurrent of low self-esteem and a compulsive need to impress. There's no mistaking he is the main antagonist of the story.

In Thor 2, Loki's attire is similar to Avengers but the overcoat is exchanged for a less bulky version (perhaps conveying he is less guarded now that the effects of the Mind Stone are no longer influencing him). Loki's role likewise pivots from the harsh lines of a villain to the more flexible edges of a reluctant villain-turned-ally. This aligns with his character arc when he protects both Jane and Thor, seemingly sacrificing himself.

In Thor 3, Loki's silhouette is streamlined even further. The overcoat is done away with in favor of what appears to be a leather doublet, pauldrons, and vambraces. Gold accents are minimal. While stylish, Loki's attire is more practical than showy, and his helm serves the dual purpose of protection as well as weaponry. At this point in his arc, Loki has become a full antihero, joining his brother's side in rescuing as many Asgardians as possible, and eventually dying in a vain bid to protect Thor from Thanos.

The TVA does something very fun and interesting in taking away Loki's ability to dress himself. Since Loki cannot use his magic in the TVA, he is forced to wear the same clothing as his captor/advocate, who eventually becomes his best friend and peer.

Perhaps, on a subconscious level, this helped Loki to feel included. We know by his pwn admission that Loki fears being alone and desperately craves a sense of belonging. At the same time, he intentionally dresses to put people at a distance, thereby protecting himself from potential rejection at the cost of isolating himself further.

When Mobius gives him that TVA jacket for the first time, Loki seems uncharacteristically pleased. It is not an attractive jacket by any means, yet he neither scoffs at it nor refuses to wear it. Instead, Loki puts it on and is content when Mobius says it looks "smart" on him. He continues to dress like Mobius and, indeed, mimic some of his mannerisms such as placing his hands on his hips. Without clothing meant to push people away, Loki opens up, has more fun, and makes friends.

Loki's choice of attire as he assumes the mantle of God of Stories (and time) is fascinating. Setting aside the clear design inspiration from the comics, Loki's silhouette is soft, remarkably so. His colors are earthy hues of green, and the only bit of flare are the light gold trimming and crown. The look brings to mind the garb of sages and wise wizards rather than royalty or warriors. He's powerful yet approachable because there is humility in his bearing. And that humility springs from a well of healthy self-worth, self-love, and a deep love for others.

The shoes are not meant to be attractive. They are meant to help him ascend the throne, nothing more.

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Image this:

Danny is sixteen. He just found out he is to become King, with a capital K, when he becomes a mature ghost, which is at least 20 years after his death. So he’s got time. Everything’s fine. Except for the Observants pushing his education. Tutors shoving information down his throat like he’s cramming for finals. Princess Dora, Pandora, Frostbite, and even Clockwork checking on him frequently and making a schedule for him to come visit their territories for little learning sessions. Fright Knight has been following his every move. And let’s not forget the other random ghosts he’s never even met before coming to ask for favors or to complain or just give him their problems in general and expect him to fix it.

He can’t even let his frustrations out! All his regular rogues avoid him now! Even Vlad doesn’t want to get involved, but that could be because he’s still bitter about not getting the crown like he wanted.

Good thing he knows a king that has probably been through the same thing.

King Arthur of Atlantis. In other words, Aquaman.

Because Danny wasn’t technically king yet, crowned prince is probably the right title?, he couldn’t just call him up or send a letter asking to meet. So Danny decides to go give the man a visit himself.

Using process of elimination, he was able to find Atlantis after about two months of research and searching. He didn’t have a whole lot of free time, okay?

Turning invisible and flying through the water was a lot easier than he thought. Getting through the barrier was a piece of cake and the castle was obvious to find. What wasn’t obvious to find was the king himself. He wasn’t in the throne room, or his study, or the training grounds, or literally anywhere in the castle. He checked.

No. He finds the king playing some game with some kids in the underwater city.

It was surprising to find him there, especially after the etiquette lessons from Dora, but it gave Danny some hope that maybe he wouldn’t be miserable and burdened with paperwork and boring meetings when he becomes king.

Danny turns visible. They were still invested in the game but the guards noticed him. Spears were pointed at him in a second.

“Halt! State your business,” the guard demands.

The shout caused everyone in the area to stop and look, including the king.

Danny raises his hands in surrender.

“Uh, hi. Sorry to stop the game, I just wanted to talk- sorry, speak to King Arthur, if- if that’s okay? There wasn’t an address to mail to that I could find-“

“It’s okay,” the king interrupts. “Let’s go somewhere private to talk then. Do you have any weapons on you?”

Danny perks up at the opportunity to finally talk to him.

“Yes please! And no, no weapons, sir.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” the king replies with a smile. Danny smiles back widely.

“My king-“

The king holds up a hand to stop the guard’s worries.

When they finally arrive to the throne room of the palace King Arthur turns to Danny.

“Who are you?” He asks in a tone that was a bit more serious than it was before.

“Oh! Sorry. Hi. I’m Danny. Danny Phantom. It’s nice to meet you, King Arthur,” he answers quickly with a nervous smile.

The king nods, obviously thinking about something else as he watches Danny with guarded eyes.

“How can you breathe underwater if I may ask? I’m curious.”

“Well that’s easy, I’m not breathing.”

“You’re… not breathing,” the king repeats with skepticism.

“Yea,” Danny agrees freely. “I don’t have to breathe if I don’t want to. You know, because of the whole ghost thing.”

“Ghost?”

“Yea. Can turn invisible, walk through walls, fly- you know. Haven’t you ever seen a ghost before?”

Danny tries a bit of humor with a crooked smile, but it falls when he sees the contemplative expression on the king’s face.

“Wait, seriously? You’ve never seen a ghost?”

“I’m aware of a ghost named Deadman apart of Justice League Dark but he is invisible to everyone.”

“Really?! I didn’t know that! I need to go talk to him! Where can I find him?”

“Hold on there, guppy. Didn’t you want to talk about something?”

Danny is drawn back to the topic at hand.

“Right, okay, so I was recently told I was gonna be king in like twenty years, which is news to me, and now they are just throwing everything at me with all this information I don’t know what to do with and I’m getting complaints and requests and everyone is expecting so much from me when I’m literally sixteen years old! I don’t know what I’m doing with my life, whether I want to go to college or if I’ll even graduate high school, and they want me to solve territory disputes and create new laws and provide protection for those who want to go into the living plane. I just- I don’t know what I’m doing and the only king I could think of was you, so I guess I was wondering if you could, I don’t know, give me some advice or if I could shadow you for a bit to see what an actual king should do or act. I know it’s a lot to ask coming from someone you don’t even know, but I’m just a bit overwhelmed with everything and I don’t really know where to go from here and was hoping you would at least understand. My friends don’t get it and the other ghosts are kinda afraid of me now because of my title and they wouldn’t get it anyway…” he trails off awkwardly.

Arthur had never had this conversation before. He was honestly flattered and the kid looked genuine. Maybe he’d wait until one of the magic users okay-ed the young ‘ghost’ before revealing any information about himself.

He pulls out a device and throws it the kid. Danny dodges just to snatch it out of the air from reflex alone.

“That’s a communicator. I’ll send Deadman and Constantine your way and call when I get the okay. Where are you located?”

Danny’s toxic eyes were big and hopeful, shining brightly through the water.

“Thank you, sir! Amity Park, Illinois, the most haunted city in America!” He answers proudly.

The king just smiles.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Aemond x brothel reader 👀

So what if instead of Aemond visiting the older woman in yesterday’s episode - he goes to the brothel and immediately regrets it and is about to leave until he sees reader and is mesmerized by her beauty. They have their little moment and she gives him comfort. Definitely feel free to add more or change anything! This is just a thought that I’d like to see created. Thank you!

Request: Aemond and a brothel girl (maybe a dancer idk) like the scene in the episode. Except they are more intimate and not weird age gap like the madam. It gave me the ick… He truly feels for her.

Warnings: mention of (past) character death, mommy issues,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

The mysterious customer under a cloak all piqued your curiosity. You never had the chance of properly seeing him, always immediately escorted to a private bed. Some girls said he was disfigured, and that it was the reason he covered himself with a cloak. Some said it was Aegon Targaryen, but you knew the newly crowned King favored Flea Bottom’s whores. 

As you danced, your eyes would try to see through the veils he hid behind. To get a glimpse of him. But you never saw anything other than his bare feet. All you knew was that he was with Madam Sylvi and that he requested hot milk.

One late evening, you saw him leaving the veils. His cloak was on, but he saw you. He saw you dancing and moving your naked body to the rhythm of the music, entertaining the customers. 

The next time he came by, he asked for you. 

Madam Sylvi was not pleased, but he was the paying customer. 

You reminded him of his mother — physically —, but more caring and nurturing. He found your voice soothing and loved to rub himself against the fullness of your breasts, making your nipples harden to the stimulation, until he came to rest his cheek on top of it, humming in satisfaction. His mother let him do this as a child, when she was still comforting him, and he missed it. 

Every night, he would curl against you, or in your lap, and stay here for hours as you gently caressed his pale skin. Unlike the other customers, Aemond was not there for sexual satisfaction. He just wanted comfort.

‘’Daemon sent them to kill me,’’ he said, his naked body shielded by the veils circling the large bed. ‘’It was my head they wanted, not my innocent little nephew’s.’’

Your heart was heavy as the prince mentioned the murder of Jaehaerys — a child. The barbarous act had everyone in tears. 

You rubbed his arm gently, the aroma of calming lavender wrapping around you. ‘’But you were with me.’’

‘’I feel sorry for my brother and sweet sister. She is traumatized.’’ Guilt filled his stomach as he remembered the suffering and painful grief in Helaena’s eyes. ‘’I should be grateful they did not find me, but a part of me wishes they had. Unlike my little nephew, I would have been able to defend myself.’’

‘’We cannot change the past, my prince.’’ 

‘’I know,’’ Aemond whispered, his cold, princely facade completely down in your company. He sighed deeply as your gentle caresses soothed his weary soul. His body relaxed as he buried his face into your covered chest, seeking solace in your warmth and tenderness. ‘’There’s a lot I would change about the past if I could. I…I do regret that business with Luke. I lost my temper that day, and I am sorry for it.’’

You stroked his hair gently, the soft, silvery locks running through your fingers. You could feel the tension in his body slowly melting away as he rested against you.

Aemond's eye closed at your touch, and a small sigh escaped his lips. ‘’They used to tease me, you know? Because I was different. One time, in the dragonpit, they…they said they found me a dragon. It was a pig. And my brother was part of the prank.’’

’'That was cruel of them,'’ you said softly, leaning to kiss his temple. He leaned into your touch as you wrapped your arms around him in a comforting embrace. ‘’They were cruel to you, my prince. You didn't deserve their taunts and mockery.'’ 

You felt his hand reaching up and palming your breasts through your clothing. Getting the hint of what he wanted, you untied the front of your dress and freed your breasts. Immediately, Aemond’s mouth started to press kisses over them before. His hot tongue swiped over your nipple. You let him do what he desired, knowing this was his way of finding comfort. The warmth of his hand and the wetness of his tongue sent a shiver down your spine, but you focused on his needs.

As Aemond continued his sweet assault on your breasts, you noticed his cock was getting hard against his thigh, but didn’t mention it. Madam Sylvi never touched him there...or kissed him. Only you — when he asked for it. 

The music outside the curtains changed, and he shifted, letting go of your breasts to curl up with his head on your lap instead. You continued to rub his shoulder down to his back, then along his thigh and leg. 

‘’When I claimed Vhagar, I felt powerful.’’ 

His pride and confidence had swelled to an almost unmanageable extent when he returned to Driftmark. He was excited to tell Aegon, and his mother about Vhagar. But his cousins and nephews found him first. They got into a fight over the dragon…and Lucerys Velaryon took out his eyes. 

As if you read his thoughts, your finger brushed the scar going through his eyebrow. You couldn’t imagine the pain he went through. 

‘’Was it why you went after Luke that day? Because you wanted him to be afraid of you and your superior dragon?’’ 

Aemond grew still at the mention of Lucerys, the memory of that fateful day on Storm’s End, the catalyst of the brewing war, still fresh in his mind. 

After a moment's hesitation, he nodded slowly. ‘’Yes... In a way, I suppose so.’’ 

You hummed, brushing your fingertips along his cheekbone softly. 

Aemond wished he could take you to the Keep. To his chambers. It would be nice to not have to hide under a cloak at night and risk getting seen by anyone who shouldn’t. He wished you would be there, in his bed, when he would return from small council meetings, training or even just supper, to take care of him and hold him.

But that was impossible. His mother would never allow it.  

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard@domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios@lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale@mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron  @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08  @mymultiveres  @secretsthathauntus  @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit

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[swordgrace]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 — 𝐈𝐈.

༺ jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader.

SYNOPSIS: a library on dragonstone, a flight on dragonback, and a tour of aegon’s garden — your growing bond with jacaerys continues to grow amidst the looming shadow of war.

note: jacaerys is nineteen, reader is eighteen. I took creative liberties with Dragonstone & if you are interested in reading more about Aegon’s Garden, click here.

༺ 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄.

༆ 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄.

༺ FORMAT: one-shot — series, originally a request.

༺ WORD COUNT: 13.1K.

༺ WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), friends to lovers, sexual inexperience, risky sex, sex in a public location (the beach), p in v sex (unprotected), missionary position, riding (reader on top), lots of kissing and sweeter antics, srisk of getting caught, handjob, vaginal fingering, clit play, hair pulling kink, neck kissing, tiddy sucking, desperate jace, confession of feelings, romantic rides on dragonback, romantic garden strolls. Mild canon divergence. Again, Jacaerys is a sweet lover who is all wrapped up in the reader.

༺ AUTHOR’S NOTE: We’re back! I am so excited to announce that this will now be a series! I am aiming to push out weekly uploads that will follow the storyline of S2. I am so, SO excited to keep writing and delivering Jace content! Next part will definitely be more angsty, and the angst will only ramp up as the series progresses. Thank you to everyone who is reading and supporting my work, it means the world to me! I hope you all enjoy! ❤️

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐚𝐰𝐧, dark curls disheveled and tossed around his head like some halo. The freckles along his back reminded you of a fawn, a tawny hue, hundreds of them smattered across his back.

The warmth of his body nestled to yours, his arm draped across your midsection, fingers idly gripping at your side, as if you might drift away during slumber. He was pretty when he slept, the stress in his face no longer prevalent, muscles no longer coiled with tension.

You didn’t want him to go — you wanted him here, tangled around you, a sight that would be burned into your mind with each passing thought. Yet, duty prevented him from staying, and it prevented you from keeping him here.

“Jacaerys,” You whispered, gently rousing him from his deep sleep. If he were to look inconspicuous, it would be best if he returned to his quarters before the whole of Dragonstone began to awake. “It’s dawn.”

Two words he never wanted to hear — and if the world turned in his favor, he would simply bring you close and fall back asleep. Unfortunately, it wasn’t an option for him. He lifted his head, groggy yet happy, smiling at you as he would a lover.

“I wish that I did not have to leave,” He murmured, reaching for your face, thumb tracing the delicate slope of your jaw. You knew that he was earnest, meaningful in his words — you understood his station. “I should get dressed.” Jace sighed, rolling from the sanctuary of your bed.

You watched, enraptured as he redressed himself, clad in the billowing tunic he wore last night, like a gallant prince ripped straight from a fairytale. You slid into the sleek gossamer of your evening robe, feeling the weight of reality weigh heavy upon you.

He turned, pressing a lingering kiss against your forehead. It was tinged with melancholy, with a longing to stay by your side, yet it wasn’t possible — not now. He held you for a moment longer, basking in your beauty, in the brilliance of your presence.

“I will see you soon, my Prince.”

𝐒𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐲 𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞’𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞.

In the humble glow of your chambers, you stood upon the small terrace, one that overlooked Blackwater Bay, far within the distance. It was a brief respite from your duties — the only time that allowed you proper contemplation.

As tensions grew, bubbling into a seething broil, you often noticed the tenuous frustration etched into Jace’s features — he wore it like a shroud, unable to keep from expressing his own disdain. With the Council urging Rhaenyra to act, to thrust the realm into war with the use of dragons, those closest to her felt the sting of her persuasion for peace.

The forlorn turmoil you felt from Rhaenyra came in waves — after Daemon had departed for an uncharted destination in the fallout of his spat with the Queen, you knew the weight of duty she was under. Jacaerys had adapted in Daemon’s absence, attempting to take the reins of leadership, or what was left of it.

It felt as if you were on a vessel without proper direction, being forced into tempestuous waters by a powerful gust of wind. Whatever came next, you could feel the uncertainty, the mounting stress.

You spent much of your morning in the presence of Elinda and Queen Rhaenyra, tending to Aegon and Viserys. The latter half was spent on the spine of Dragonstone, the massive wall of a walkway that led toward the rest of the island.

The strolls along the ramparts, the Dragon’s Tail, as you’d come to learn, often gave you much to consider, a place to allow your thoughts a clear sanctuary. Saltwater air, the hum of the beach, the clear horizon of a cloud-speckled sky — there was nothing like it.

Through the growing fog of war, your newfound relationship with Jacaerys had kept you afloat. After your tryst two nights prior, the atmosphere had shifted drastically, from cordial and friendly to romantic and intimate. You stole glances at him whenever you could, fleeting smiles reserved only for his eyes.

You hadn’t been able to kiss him since the morning he left your bed, but you had a feeling that an opportunity would present itself. With Daemon’s absence, you feared to leave Rhaenyra alone, but Elinda had offered to take watch should anything happen.

With your father briefly away to Crackclaw Point in order to amass funds for potential armies as the Master of Coin, it left you with only a handful to speak to. The peninsula that jutted out into the Narrow Sea was across the bay from Dragonstone — a fair distance, but not enough to cause you any worry.

The afternoon was uneventful and dismal at best, with those scurrying about the castle grounds. Shipments from Driftmark came in from several of their vessels, bringing food and supplies to Dragonstone. The obsidian castle was a gorgeous place — and you’d only scratched the surface in terms of exploration.

Jacaerys had spoken of Aegon’s Garden during the night you shared together, vowing to take you there should there be a lull in the chaos. You admired his loyalty to his mother, and you watched him brave the encroaching storm that was the Small Council.

Aimless wandering led you to the library within Dragonstone, an impressive architectural feat of scaling ceilings, with great stone staircases and many walls lined with scrolls and tomes alike. It was quiet when you entered through the doors, the halls illuminated by natural sunlight and the flickering of braziers and torches.

A familiar voice made your heart soar, when you realized that Jacaerys was here, too. He was accompanied by Joffrey and a handmaiden, one that patiently waited by the wayside for the princes to finish their time spent together.

The gentle timbre of Jace’s voice brought you a sense of peace, one that became increasingly harder to find with the inevitability of war. He was reading to Joffrey, hovering over his younger brother like a dutiful scholar. With Lucerys gone, his protectiveness was now clear as day, seeping into every bone within his body.

As soon as your footsteps fell across the stone floor, Jacaerys’s eyes drifted from the mountain of texts surrounding him to you — his smile was unmistakable. Something warm touched his gaze when your eyes locked together, prompting you to approach the table with a spring in your step.

“Lady Celtigar,” If it weren’t for the presence of his brother and his caretaker, he would’ve collected you into his arms for a kiss, even if the setting was somewhat risky. Jace couldn’t stop thinking about you — you occupied his every thought, at the forefront of his mind. “You are welcome to join us.”

Joffrey’s sudden excitement flourished to life when he saw you, and you watched as the little boy rushed out of his seat to come leaping into your arms. “I missed you!” He cried, little fists beating against your shoulders as he clung to you, mop of dark tresses bouncing with each movement.

“My Prince,” You beamed, scooping Joffrey up with ease as you held him close, returning his hug as you kept him aloft within one arm. “I’ve missed you too. What are you and your big brother up to, hm? You should be mindful of his lessons. He is a talented teacher.” Jace’s expression turned crimson at your playful compliment.

“I’m reading,” Joffrey explained as any child would, in a whimsical way that made little sense. Jacaerys was attempting to pass on High Valyrian to his sibling, given that he would be the Prince of Driftmark someday — the blood of Old Valyria lived within him. “Reading about dragons.”

Curious, your gaze flickered toward Jace as you approached the slab of stone, lowering yourself upon the benches beside it. Joffrey hadn’t left your lap, grabbing one of the books as he pointed to an illustration of a massive dragon with black scales.

You weren’t well-versed in the history of House Targaryen, though you suspected that Jacaerys would be capable of filling you in. “Forgive me, but I am not familiar with the history of the Targaryens. I assume that this is an ancestral dragon?” You inquired, mostly to Jace.

“Balerion the Black Dread, mount of Aegon the Conqueror,” Jace replied, palm perched atop the open pages of a dusty tome, parchment old and weathered. He enjoyed reading and the histories just as much as swordplay and dragon-riding. “I suppose that’s another thing I’ll have to teach you about.”

Again, you were smitten, unable to hide your flustered smile as you cleared your throat. “Will it come after your lessons in High Valyrian?” You chimed, sitting idly as Joffrey pulled at your hair and draped his head over your shoulder. The boy was a little restless, not that you could blame him.

Jacaerys shared your sweet sentiments, smiling just as you did before he fell quiet. As much as he wanted to regale you with gallant words and compliments, he wouldn’t dare do it in front of the old maid. Instead, he rounded the table, pressing a hand against Joffrey’s head in a comforting manner. “It seems that you’re overdue for a nap, Joff.”

Joffrey whined in protest, brows furrowing together as he buried his face into your shoulder. He seemed to tighten his hold with defiance, peering up at his brother through the frame of his thick, dark hair. “No.” He protested, wrapping his arms around your neck.

“She won’t go anywhere, brother. I promise.” Jacaerys murmured, gingerly attempting to untangle his sibling from you. He was gentle, ruffling Joffrey’s hair in the process before kissing his forehead. “Next time, you can take her to see Tyraxes.”

A string of mumbled, childish ‘no’s’ escaped him, but before he could do anything rash, the handmaiden retrieved him. “Off to bed with you, little Prince.” She mumbled, taking him out of your arms as she retreated from the library with Joffrey in-tow.

The two of you watched her go, and admittedly, you were rather curious about the amount of books he had around him. “Heavy reading day?” You asked, observing in enraptured silence as Jacaerys moved to sit beside you, relocating his books to adjust to his new place.

“Something to keep me preoccupied,” He confessed, shamelessly keeping close to you. His handsome features were basked within orange firelight, reaching his dark-brown eyes. The smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose seemed more pronounced than ever. “The tension continues to grow sour as of late.”

You couldn’t help but feel concerned for Jacaerys, who had the weight of a kingdom upon his shoulders, including his mother. “With Daemon leaving, it has put a horrible strain upon your mother. She bares it well, but I know how much it worries her.”

Rhaenyra meant a great deal to you. You had come into her service just before the betrayal committed against her by the usurper, Aegon. House Celtigar had faithfully safeguarded the peninsula and the waters near Dragonstone for several decades, you knew that your father would never betray his oath.

Jace felt a twinge of irritation when you mentioned Daemon. He had taken him under his wing, treated him like a son, but he was also impulsive with a raging streak of arrogance and haughtiness. That recklessness often drained his mother half to death.

“He will return,” Jacaerys exhaled, maintaining an aura of calm despite his inner worry. He didn’t want to be afraid in front of you, but deep down, he knew that you wouldn’t judge him harshly for it. It was in your nature to be kind and without an ounce of anger. “He always does. Daemon loves my mother dearly.”

His devotion to Rhaenyra was twisted in some ways, perhaps, but he would always serve her. He pledged her Queen of the Seven Kingdoms before a host of followers, and it wasn’t something Daemon would toss away. Nevertheless, Jacaerys hoped that he would return swiftly.

With a comforting touch, you squeezed his bicep through his tunic, offering him a kind smile. “Whatever you need, I am here for you. I understand what pressure you are under, with Daemon away.” You could not fully grasp the true heaviness of leadership, but you could certainly try, for Jace’s sake.

How fortunate he was to have you — truly, a blessing sent from the Gods. There wasn’t a woman more thoughtful than you, that much he knew. He looked upon your visage with a sweet ardor, leaning inward to press a chaste kiss against your temple. He missed you in these last few days, missed your warmth.

“You can rely on me for the very same,” Jace uttered, planting another kiss on your cheek. It was oozing with affection, an affection that he solely reserved for you. “My heart belongs with you.” His voice was a feather-light caress, overflowing with adoration.

If it weren’t for your underlying fear of someone seeing you so close with the Prince of Dragonstone, you would’ve kissed him. You’d been thinking about it since your last meeting. “As does mine, Jacaerys.” You hummed, noticing his smile — it reached his eyes.

A comfortable silence lingered between the both of you, one tinged with the warmth of youthful amity. Jace’s brown-hued stare bored right into you, crinkles forming at either corner of his eyes. Every detail of you was unmatched, delicate and sublime.

“Are you aware that you are the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms?” He mused, nose wrinkling with amusement when you playfully shoved at his arm. Jacaerys returned to his books, sliding it over for it to sit between the both of you.

A wave of heat flooded through you, reaching your visage as it crawled along your skin. “Jacaerys,” You mumbled, brows knitting together. His softly-spoken compliments were enough to make you swoon. “Just the Seven Kingdoms?” You teased, head canting to one side.

Jace’s lips twitched into a faint grin before he nudged your leg with his knee, his tousled curls bouncing atop his head. “If I must proclaim your allure before the whole of the Realm, I will.” He countered, the atmosphere lighthearted and amiable.

“Be careful, or I might hold you to it.” A fondness crept into your tone, gaze softening as you caught sight of his rose-colored visage. You giggled, leaning over the table to have a look at the book he had strewn about.

“A history of my house, my ancestors,” Jacaerys explained, delighted for you to indulge in all of his old scripts and tomes. He loved to read just as much as he enjoyed swordplay. “It’s easy to become lost in this pile of pages.”

“You do love your histories,” You mused, tapping a weathered image of what Maesters depicted as Aegon the Conqueror. “This is Balerion’s rider, you said?” You inquired, placing a hand beneath your chin.

“Aegon the Conqueror was born here, in this very castle. Dragonstone has seen plenty since the Conquering. Sometimes it amazes me that we sit within the very same halls he once roamed.” Jacaerys’s countenance lit up whenever he spoke of history, something he held a great passion for.

House Celtigar shared the blood of Old Valyria, yet were considered the lowest in nobility from those houses that emerged from the Doom. The power and influence your House held paled in comparison to that of the Targaryens and Velaryons.

“My father used to shower me with tales of our House from before the Doom, to Aegon, and to now,” You replied, flipping through some of the dust-laden pages. The spine rattled in protest, parchment weathered and well-worn from constant use and age. “We are not nearly as noteworthy as dragonriders.”

Jacaerys nearly protested on your own behalf, but you seemed entirely unbothered, smiling to yourself as you roamed through the bulk of the book. Many of the illustrations and ink had faded with time, but you quite enjoyed the content.

He wondered if your father would agree to a betrothal — and his heart immediately sank into his stomach. Jacaerys hadn’t considered how his mother would feel about it, but he couldn’t let that stay his hand from making you his wife.

The thought had crossed his mind a multitude of times since he laid with you, and now, it had taken root, blossoming into more than a dream. It would take plenty of deliberation, but Jacaerys hadn’t felt so certain about anything before.

House Celtigar was of Valyrian descent, but lesser known on all fronts. Dragonriders and masters of the tide overshadowed everything else. “Your House has Valyrian blood,” Jace began, visibly intrigued. “Your father made a point of it during a council meeting.”

A burst of laughter escaped you, nose wrinkling with amusement. “He enjoys reminding everyone with every chance he gets,” You snickered, gaze flickering over the rest of the books present. Many were historical, but one belonged to a Maester — Flowers and Herbs of Dragonstone. “Do not let him tell you any stories, or you may find yourself there all night.”

Jacaerys chuckled at that, pearlescent teeth glittering in the orange light of the library. Little else seemed to matter, save for the both of you — no other soul around to witness your bond. “I will keep that in-mind. My own father liked to tell us sailor’s tales.” He mused, gaze a touch forlorn.

Laenor Velaryon — you knew that Jacaerys wasn’t his trueborn son, but it didn’t matter, not to you. He had mentioned Ser Harwin Strong once during your talks on the ramparts, and from his expression, you knew how much Harwin meant to him.

“You must miss him terribly,” You uttered, brows furrowing together. “Both of them.” The sweetness of your voice aided Jacaerys in not becoming so emotional in regards to his late fathers. They meant much to him in different ways, as equally as important as the other.

“I do,” Jacaerys smiled fondly, as if he were recalling a memory. “Ser Harwin was gentle yet ferocious, and Ser Laenor was humorous and kind. I couldn’t have asked for anyone better.” Lucerys was quite fond of Laenor — and that little memory jabbed at his heart.

You reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, yet you didn’t withdraw. Instead, you kept your hand there, with Jacaerys tracing his thumb across the delicate ridges of your knuckles. He knew that Ser Harwin loved him, just as Ser Laenor had, too.

“Your father returned to Crackclaw Point,” Jacaerys began, knowing that as Master of Coin, obtaining fees to fund a potential war were important. “How have you fared?” He asked delicately, tone wrought with a soft-spoken concern.

“I love my father, but he can be rather narrow-minded when it comes to battle. He’s never fought a day in his life,” You mused, idly playing with some of the frayed binding on a book. “My older brother, Clement, is heir to Claw Isle. I suspect he also went to see him as well.”

You didn’t speak of Clement often, and whenever you did, it sometimes left a bitter taste upon your tongue. Clement was better than you in every way imaginable — but then again, had you been born a man, you might’ve been, too. You tried not to dwell on it.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Jace replied, noticing the flicker of melancholy that crossed your features. He cared more for your wellbeing than he did most, and to see you saddened, it hurt him, too.

A soft exhale escaped you before you shrugged, adjusting the velveteen sleeves of your gown. “I’m well enough,” You admitted, mustering up a smile. “I do miss home, but Dragonstone has grown on me. Your mother is a good woman, and you are the very best.”

Jacaerys felt the weight of your words, the genuineness behind them, the feeling of true happiness. If he were to ever ascend the Iron Throne, he hoped that you would be by his side. He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss atop your knuckles before holding it close. “I am undeserving of your praise.”

“Don’t,” The last thing you wanted was for Jace to feel unworthy, especially during a time like this. He was perfect to you — better than any man in the realm. “You will make a wonderful King, when the time comes. I could not imagine someone better suited for the position. Your mother will make sure of it.”

“I should hope to live up to your expectations,” He chuckled, and before you could scorn him for being harsh upon himself, he stopped you. “I hope to exceed them, with the help of a strong council and a wise Hand.” Jacaerys finished — and a good Queen.

“I know that you will.” You reassured him, dipping forward to press a kiss against his cheek. It was chaste and kept brief for the sake of propriety, but deep down, the both of you were waiting for a moment of opportunity to arrive. If you were patient, it would be soon.

Again, he flourished beneath your praise, head hanging slightly, dark curls framing his visage. He hadn’t a clue of what he did to deserve you, but he thanked the Gods for it. Jace exhaled, cradling your hand within both of his. “Your hand is cold.” He remarked, and the both of you shared a tender smile.

Jace knew that any amount of time spent with you was beyond worthwhile. Despite his desire to be involved in the action, he was beginning to develop a fear of losing you amidst the chaos. He refused to let your flowering relationship break apart.

With a smitten expression, you dipped your head, feeling his hands work to warm your own. “Thankfully, there is someone here to keep me warm.” Your remark was amiable, yet hushed. Part of you still worried that someone would come along and intrude.

“I’ll hold that position with honor, my Lady.” Jace mused, mirth and merriment reaching his eyes. For many days, they had been so forlorn and dour, especially after Lucerys’s passing. Now, there was a renewed spark, a vigor that touched them once again.

You believed him wholeheartedly, feeling warmth crawl across your skin when he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against your knuckles. Jacaerys gingerly kissed each of your fingertips, continuing to bring heat to your icy flesh.

The look you gave him was nothing short of endearment — the sort of stare reserved only for close lovers. Intimacy was one thing, but you adored Jace’s heart more than anything else. Beneath the stress of war and strife, he was a good man, born to rule the Seven Kingdoms with a just and compassionate hand.

“After supper, I want to show you Aegon’s Garden and the bay.” He broke the fleeting moment of silence, digits dancing along the silky plane of your palm. “Perhaps on dragonback.” Jacaerys attempted to smother the bemused look on his face when your eyes widened.

“On dragonback?” You had expressed your fear of flying many times before, but on a dragon? What if you fell, or what if Jacaerys fell? Perhaps your fears were irrational, but you still remained hesitant. “What if something were to happen? What if I plummeted from the sky?”

A brief huff of laughter escaped Jace, who canted his head to one side. “Do you truly think I’d let that happen? We would be secure, and there are places to hold onto. I promise.” He reassured you, but it did very little to quell the onslaught of worry you were experiencing. “I wouldn’t let you fall — I swear it.”

Apprehension muddled your visage, browns drawn together in a look of concern. “I trust you, Jacaerys, but —“ He stopped you with a kiss. The suddenness of it left you surprised yet aching for more, and you failed to take stock of your surroundings. It was just the two of you.

The hand that had been perched within his lap for so long now found purchase against your face, cupping your jaw with the utmost care. As much as he wanted to let it linger, echoing footsteps caused him to pull away. Your smitten expression gave him a sense of relief.

“Then trust me.” Jace mused, a smile toying at either corner of his mouth. He planted another kiss atop your knuckles before releasing your hand. Thankfully, the timing was opportune, considering that a guard had wandered into the warm sanctuary of the library.

“My Prince, my Lady,” He greeted, standing tall with his hand on the pommel of his shortsword. “The council is reconvening before supper.” You recognized Ser Lyonel Bentley as one of the younger members of the Queensguard.

Jacaerys thanked Ser Bentley before turning to you, voice lowering enough so that only you could hear. “Find me tonight at the ramparts.” He murmured, subtly brushing his thumb over your knuckles before he stood, neatly rearranging his many scattered books.

You smiled, giving Jace a nod before standing yourself, rising to offer your farewell with a curtsy. “Good evening, my Prince.” Dropping at the knees, you noticed Jacaerys’s fleeting glance before he departed from the library.

As you watched him depart with the company of Ser Bentley, your heart swelled tenfold — Aegon’s Garden awaited you tonight.

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐭. The sun began to descend towards the ocean, casting the water in a blanket of fading embers. The black stone of the castle seemed to catch fire with the setting sun, and it was a beautiful sight.

Supper was eerily silent that evening — no one seemed hungry, and conversation dwindled to a mere hum. The halls of Dragonstone began to calm for the evening, and there was no sign of Daemon’s return. Your father had sent a raven from Claw Isle, reporting an influx of coin, ships, and supplies.

Within your chambers, you wrote a letter to home — to Clement, and to your father. He cited that he would return in two days' time, with the assistance of Claw Isle’s small vassal of ships. It comforted you to know that your father would rejoin the fray once more.

You waited for the hum of the castle to come to a lull before sneaking from your bedchambers, grabbing your cloak from the back of an armchair. Dragonstone was wrought with hidden passages and winding corridors that led to the Dragon’s Tail, or the wall.

Sneaking about once everyone had retired for the evening felt daring and exhilarating, but you feared what would happen if you were caught. You hadn’t a clue of what excuse to muster up should you be found, but you elected not to think of such things.

Torchlight guided your path from your chambers to a tunnel that led onto the ramparts. Twilight was still dancing across the skies, with the absence of dusk. As you entered the outside of Dragonstone, unoccupied by the presence of guards, you began your search for Jacaerys.

There wasn’t a shadow of a dragon afoot, or a man — just the saltwater breeze and crashing of the tides upon the bay and upon rock. You wrung your hands together, looking around for Jace. You approached the bannister, gazing off into the sea as you had many times before.

You were filled with the same wistful feeling — a longing for home, yet tethered to Dragonstone, tethered to Jacaerys. A soft beating of wings reverberated within the distance, accompanied by the hushed chirp of Vermax, who made a downward descent towards the ramparts you stood upon.

Jacaerys sat atop the olive-scaled dragon, filled with the excitement of seeing you there, smiling and radiant. As Vermax landed with an unceremonious thud, he dismounted, sliding down the side of the dragon’s shoulder and onto the stone below.

He hastily approached you with a giddy gait, delighted to see your own springing step as he collected you into his arms. Jacaerys spun you around, holding you close as he pressed a myriad of kisses against the top of your head. It was a blissful moment, full of anticipation and a sweetness that simply couldn’t be matched.

“I was worried that Ser Lorent might’ve caught you,” Jace mused, placing you onto solid ground as he kept his hands atop your waist, thumbs stroking slow circles into your sides. His smile was perfect, freckles catching in the fading sunlight. “I didn’t see you at supper.”

Admittedly, you weren’t very hungry and had opted to take supper in your chambers. The raven from your father had left you melancholy and alone with your thoughts, long enough for you to realize that hope lingered still. He would return, safe and sound to Dragonstone.

“I wasn’t very hungry,” You confessed, touched by his worry. Jace held you close, motioning towards the heavier knapsack anchored to Vermax’s saddle. It was almost as if Jacaerys intended on staying the night somewhere in the wilderness, but you knew that wasn’t the case. “Are you sure that this is a good idea?”

Jacaerys chuckled, head canting to one side. “You still don’t trust me, do you?” He teased, knowing fully well that it would make you unbelievably flustered. Instead, he reached for one of your hands, lacing it with his own. “I would never put you in harm’s way, I promise you that.” Jace reassured you, pressing a kiss against your brow.

A soft sigh escaped you, then. “I do trust you, Jacaerys — wholeheartedly. I suppose it is an irrational fear, falling from the back of a dragon.” You mused, and he detected the slightest hint of playful sarcasm within your tone. “In all seriousness, I know that you will keep me safe.”

“As long as I am with you, no harm will come to you. Nothing will hurt you,” Jacaerys murmured, pressing a kiss upon your knuckles. “Vermax possesses steady wings, and the journey will be short.” He spoke gently, guiding you toward Vermax’s lowered wing.

Without hesitation, your hand reached for the front of Jacaerys’s velveteen tunic, stitched and patterned to resemble faux dragonscales. You coaxed him in for a kiss, one that immediately flickered to life with a flurry of sweet passion and affection, now unrestrained.

He cupped your face, thumb tracing along the soft curve of your cheekbone, ensuring that he reciprocated with as much adoration as he could muster. Jacaerys had been waiting — waiting so patiently to share this moment with you since the previous tryst.

A rather noisy growl from Vermax pulled the both of you from the bliss of the moment, prompting Jace to scowl at his draconic companion. You were giggling, unable to keep from finding some humor in it. “Is Vermax the envious sort?” You mused.

“I suppose he is,” Jacaerys sighed, stepping up onto Vermax’s spiked shoulder and wing, using the leverage to pull himself up halfway. He looked at you expectantly, extending his hand towards you, which you took without an ounce of reluctance. “Move towards me.”

Rocking towards Vermax, Jacaerys finally hauled you up, guiding you onto the bulk of the leather saddle, situated in front of him. The handles were large and tall enough to give him leverage, even if you were sitting in between.

You could feel the warmth of dragonscales beneath you, the accelerating breaths of Vermax himself, every movement causing you to lurch forward. It was strange to feel a real, living dragon underneath you, but you maintained your composure for Jace’s sake.

“Sōvegon, Vermax!” Jacaerys called, patting just above Vermax’s shoulder before the dragon took flight, leaping from the ramparts and into the cool, dusk air of Dragonstone Isle. Saltwater kisses peppered your cheeks, the mist of the Narrow Sea dancing through the night.

The ground became smaller, no longer close as you took flight, prompting you to hunch forward in order to grab ahold of the saddle. Your heart pounded within your breast, like the beating of a drum. Nervousness swelled within you like the rising of the tide, but Jacaerys kept close, chest snug against your back.

A burst of hysterical laughter tore past your lips, inevitably turning into something genuine. “This is incredible!” You gasped, and the world suddenly seemed so vast from the back of a dragon. Jacaerys laughed with you, guiding Vermax past the ramparts and toward the forested part of Dragonstone.

Aegon’s Garden was shrouded in ancient thickets, a grove that swallowed the shrine whole. “Gīda, Vermax!” Jacaerys ensured that his dragon leveled out, grabbing at the reins as he steered Vermax toward the edge of the island, circling around for you to see. “Put your hands here.” His voice softened for only you to hear as he motioned toward the saddle grips.

With shaky hands, you lifted them to the grips, placing them just underneath Jace’s, your grip ironclad. Jacaerys placed his palms atop yours, reins close enough for him to maintain control over Vermax. “Is this what it’s like to control a dragon?” You questioned, letting out a squeal when Vermax dove to the left.

“Exhilarating, isn’t it? I haven’t let you fall.” Jacaerys mused, pressing a brief kiss against your temple. He smiled when you gave him a playful, pointed look, your tresses billowing behind you with the wind. The sun continued to descend, and the sight was breathtaking.

It was something you would only see once in your lifetime — a sunset in the Narrow Sea upon the back of a dragon, watching as bright orange began to bleed into shades of violet, like dusk reaching up to steal the day away. The first inkling of stars twinkled above, faint yet present.

Anxiousness dissipated into joy and wonder at the world around you, no longer clouded by worry and fear. Jacaerys ensured that you were protected, hovering behind you as any dutiful paramour would. After you circled Dragonstone, he eased Vermax toward Aegon’s Garden, spotting the stone statue in its center.

Jacaerys could see the future, then and there — carrying you on dragonback to King’s Landing, to Driftmark and to the Reach and the Stormlands, seeing the world at your side. There wasn’t any other place for him, and he was satisfied with that.

As Vermax made his descent, the beating of his wings stirring the surrounding brush and flora, you held on tightly, watching as the dragon lowered his body towards the thickets. Towering pine trees, thorny hedges, and a meadow of wildflowers surrounded the massive draconic statue in the very center, wreathed in tendrils of prickly ivy and weathered vines.

It was quiet, the grove hushed with the cover of night. A singular column of torches lined the spiraling statue in the middle, said to be eternal flames lit in Aegon I’s honor, never to die out. Bushes of wild roses bloomed everywhere, in varying shades of crimson and pink, scattered around the stone.

With a soft grunt, Jacaerys moved to dismount, retrieving his thick cloak and a small roll from the back of Vermax’s saddle. He grabbed the thick hide strap that secured the saddle, using its leverage to hop onto solid ground.

He extended his arms out to you, nodding reassuringly for you to jump as he did. “I will catch you.” Jacaerys soothed, ensuring that you were secure within his hold as he assisted you in dismounting.

Through the haze of scaling pine trees and the serenity encapsulating the gardens, you could see the castle of Dragonstone looming in the distance, an intricate alcazar. House Targaryen had its roots everywhere, presence grounded within the very flora and rock you stood upon.

“This is beautiful,” You whispered, tone transcendent with awe as you admired the natural splendor of your newfound environment. It was an ancient place, archaic and from a time long before you. “Can you believe that a place like this still exists?”

Jacaerys had come to Aegon’s Garden on a handful of occasions — twice as a boy, in the company of his brothers and nursemaid. Only recently he’d come here, a place to be alone and contemplate without having a thousand eyes pick him apart.

The smell of damp woodlands and faint wildflowers drifted through the air, accompanied by moss and stone. Pine permeated the air, the scent heavy and verdant. Vermax lowered himself into the thicket, warm breath breaking through a line of ferns and thorns.

“This garden was named for Aegon the Conqueror,” Jacaerys hummed, taking your hand within his as he led you away from Vermax and closer to the statue within the center. It resembled a roaring dragon’s head, black scales winding down a spire, wings outstretched. “It is said that his ashes were scattered here following his passing.”

A trickling noise emerged from the statue, with tendrils of water oozing from the maw of the dragon, pouring into a stone basin below. The sun had nearly faded entirely, giving way to a calm nightfall, covered by large spots of clouds. Jacaerys led you closer to the obelisk, his gait slow and exploratory.

Inching forward, you placed your palm against the carved scales of the statue, feeling damp stone and moss beneath your fingertips. This was a place that was hundreds of years old, untouched by war, untouched by the harsh hand of time. “Is this supposed to be Balerion?”You asked, motioning to the statue.

“From what the records of Dragonstone say, it is Balerion.” Jacaerys replied, following in your footsteps as he stood by your side. He had left his scabbard and sword back on Vermax — he didn’t feel the desire to have it here. “My mother showed me this place when I was young.”

Jace’s voice grew wistful at the mention of his youth — sometimes, it didn’t feel like much of a childhood at all. The weight of being labeled a bastard for all his life left him crawling to feel a sense of worth, to prove himself whenever he could. No one could be so vicious here in Dragonstone — he’d left King’s Landing behind.

Leaning into him, you kept your chin tucked against his arm, gazing into the tarnished ruby eyes socketed into the statue. It was a piece of history, of a dynasty that Jacaerys was apart of. You wondered what your place was, where you would fit in, in the grand scheme of things.

“Someday, I will show you Claw Isle,” You spoke softly, harkening back to your younger days, just as he did. “Celtigar Keep is full of treasures collected throughout generations. There is apparently a carcass of a magical crab somewhere in the crypts.” You mused, nose wrinkling with amusement.

A soft laugh escaped Jacaerys, whose vibrant brown hues turned themselves to you, oozing with a warm affection. “A magical crab? Is that your equivalent to Targaryen dragons?” He teased, squeezing your hand when you playfully rolled your eyes.

“I would much rather have a dragon,” A steady exhale escaped you as you held his hand, feeling his head rest atop your own, thick curls brushing against your temples. “Crabs are boring unless they’re freshly-caught and used in a bisque.” You replied, your smile prevalent upon your features.

Jace snickered, finding your beratement of crabs to be incredibly amusing. A steaming bowl of crab bisque sounded delightful — it was something commonly served around most seaside castles. He fell quiet, elated to be in your presence as he pressed a kiss against the top of your head.

You clicked your tongue, still holding onto Jace’s hand. His silence gave you pause as you glanced up at him, a twinkle of mirth dancing within your eyes. “Did my talk of crab turn you away completely?” You hummed, prompting Jace to reach for your chin, digits tenderly stroking along your jaw.

“Absolutely not,” Jacaerys replied, leaning in until your foreheads touched. “I fear that you may be anchored to me for the foreseeable future.” He murmured, voice becoming a touch husky and rich. You savored his embrace, pressing a brief kiss against his chin, causing him to smile.

Whatever affection you felt for Jacaerys seemed to swell in that moment, causing your heart to flutter with excitement. Butterflies pooled within the pit of your stomach, dancing around with glee. “I’m quite content with that.” You whispered, and he kissed you, even if it was kept brief.

The scenery was something from a fairytale, cranberry meadows and wildflower patches illuminated by both moonlight and the glower of fire. Balerion’s stony, ruby eyes gazed down upon the both of you, the blood of Old Valyria standing before him.

“I would never leave this garden, if I could,” You sighed, interlacing your fingers with Jace’s own. He kept your hand close to him, thumb brushing along the ridges of your knuckles. “This means a great deal to me. Thank you for bringing me here, Jacaerys.”

Jace smiled, guiding you toward the thicket until you reached the stone surrounding Aegon’s monument in the center of the garden. “Perhaps we could stay here,” He replied, coming to a halt in front of the statue. He turned toward you, reaching for your waist as he pulled you closer. “Stay a thousand years.”

If only duty would make it so — if only.

You chuckled, keeping your hands interlocked as your palm lifted to perch atop his chest, absentmindedly tracing over the silvery stitching of his doublet. “What would we do? Eat berries and use Vermax as shelter?” A giggle escaped you as Jacaerys spun you in a slow circle, forehead dipping to press against yours.

“It sounds like a pleasant life.” His utterance had dropped into a sweet caress, genuine as could be. Jacaerys eased you into a sluggish dance, one reserved for noble lords and ladies, spun about across a great hall. He pressed a kiss atop the crown of your head.

Jacaerys wanted that with you, a life free of vitriolic politics and bloodshed, free of the cruelty of the crown, the viciousness of power. As he gently swayed with you within his arms, he had never felt so strongly about someone before. You were intertwined with him.

The folly of youth — fantasy and whimsy, believing that nothing bad would ever happen. You wished that it were true, and that you and Jacaerys could live happily together somewhere else, but the possibility was nothing more than a mere dream, one that dissipated as quickly as it had come.

Even if such a life with Jacaerys sounded picturesque, it wasn’t what duty commanded of you — what honor demanded. You knew that the relationship between you and Jace would be fraught with danger and trials ahead, but you were prepared to brave the storm with him.

As Jacaerys gently twirled you around once more, the both of you began to laugh, lips clamoring to find one another. It was saccharine, warm like the first inkling of springtime — there was never a more gallant man that existed than Jacaerys Velaryon.

He cupped your face within his palms, cradling you as if you were a delicate object, cherished and precious. Your hands wandered toward his chest, sinking into the velveteen material that clung to him. The dancing light of Aegon’s eternal torch basked the both of you in its still-burning embers.

It was refreshing to feel so liberated here, not having to hide your affections, look over your shoulder with each kiss. The fire that burned within you, your adoration for him — it intensified, continued to grow tenfold whenever you were in his embrace.

It was a tender dance, your lips — you couldn’t have pictured kissing anyone else after Jacaerys had kissed you. The care and caution he often exuded was more than enough to make you elated, body flush against his own as the entanglement continued for a few moments longer.

When you withdrew, you felt hot to the touch, completely and utterly taken by the Prince of Dragonstone. You felt his thumbs caress your cheekbones, stroking downward towards the curve of your jaw. The silence was comforting, something that you didn’t break just yet, careening into Jace’s touch.

Silvery rays of moonlight soon replaced that of the waning sunset, with a blanket of stars to decorate the skies. Of course, your surroundings were still clear enough, and he had been diligent enough to bring a torch with him, stashed away within the roll slung across his back.

“Shall we?” Jacaerys asked, offering you his hand to lead you through the winding gardens. The path that had been placed before was overgrown and trodden into mere dirt, but it was better than wading through tall grass. “There is a path that leads to the bay.”

The gentle, heavy sighs from Vermax signaled that he had fallen asleep somewhere amongst the thicket, tail curled around his larger frame. He was easy to spot, a massive scaled form slumbering within the brush.

“What of Vermax?” You asked, motioning towards the sleeping beast. It was amusing to see a dragon asleep — whenever you’d seen one, they were always so animated, soaring above Dragonstone or drifting above the Narrow Sea.

Jace smiled, nose wrinkling with amusement. “He will find me, if he becomes lost. Dragons are tethered to their riders,” He explained, feeling your hand slip within his as he slowly guided you down the path. Bushes of roses lined either side, thick from many decades of growing wild. “It is a companionship, a bond.”

“You will have to take me riding again,” You mused, nose wrinkling in amusement. “I must admit, it wasn’t nearly as terrifying as I thought it would be. You can see much more of the world from the back of a dragon.”

With a teasing grin, Jacaerys dipped down to knock his shoulder against yours. “Is that so?” He jested, your sweet scent filling his nostrils. Your concoction of floral perfumes and honeyed scent was warming, to say the least. “Name the day, and I shall take you with me again.” He promised.

Many of the flowers that blossomed within Aegon’s Garden were native to the island, but something caught Jacaerys’s eye — blooms as pale as snow, sticking out amongst the thorny roses. He released your hand to seek it out, traipsing through the bush.

“Where are you going?” You laughed, head canting to one side as you followed him to the very edge of the path. Jacaerys waded through countless roses to find that clutch of Lady’s Lace. Thorns stuck to his doublet and the tail end of his cloak, not that he minded.

“You’ll see,” He called back, kneeling before the patch of pale, silvery blossoms as he collected them all, smiling to himself as he made his treacherous trek back to the path. When Jacaerys returned, he kept them behind his back, as if you were oblivious to his antics. “It doesn’t grow on Dragonstone.”

Presenting you with the bundle of flowers, you nearly buckled, features blazing with warmth. You were incredibly flustered, charmed to your core as he placed them into your hand. “This is Lady’s Lace,” You murmured, trailing your fingertips across the soft petals. “You are endlessly charming.”

Jacaerys chuckled, bristling at such a compliment as the two of you continued your walk toward the pale beaches of Dragonstone. “Endlessly charming,” He parroted, though instead of opting for humor, he became soft in your presence. “It is reserved only for you.” You believed him wholeheartedly when the words left his lips.

You loved him.

The thought immediately slammed into the recesses of your mind like a heavy stone being thrown, and it nearly shattered your composure. Jacaerys was everything that a man should be — he was everything you’d ever wanted, before you knew what wanting truly was. Your breath hitched within your throat, then and there.

His handsome, gentle features and gallant disposition, the kindness that touched his eyes — he was nothing short of perfection. You envied the woman that would become his Queen, become his wife. They would have only the best — Jacaerys deserved nothing less.

“Everything you do drives me to madness,” You confessed, and before Jace could express his confusion, you pressed a hand against his lips. “You are good — truly good, Jacaerys. I daresay, you are perfect. You cannot begin to understand how incredible you truly are, and your mother would be proud.”

He hesitated, gazing down at you through the haze of moonlight, capturing your doe-eyed stare. Whatever you felt, he did too — only stronger. Jace felt his heart beat again, mirroring the same sentiments he experienced the night he first laid with you.

Jacaerys nearly asked it of you, asked you to be his wife, his future Queen. If it weren’t for the onslaught of boyish nerves that suddenly gripped him, he would’ve asked you — he wanted you to marry him. The advantages of allying two houses of Valyrian descent were vast, but Jacaerys knew to seek the approval of your father upon his return from Claw Isle.

No matter the swiftness of the decision or the reproach it would potentially receive, any repercussions, he didn’t care. How could he, when he had you there to tell him how much he meant to you, how good he was?

He was occasionally quick to anger, desperate to be of some use in his Mother’s fight to regain her crown, but you made him feel more than that. Those flaws dissipated, and he happily drowned within your perfect light, the beacon of beauty that you were.

“Whatever I am, you are so much more.” Jacaerys uttered, politely removing your hand from his lips, but not before he could kiss each of your fingertips. “There is no one in this world quite as perfect as you.” He smiled, and it melted your heart completely.

Your lips parted, a soft exhale escaping you, yet no words emerged, turning to ash upon your tongue. “Jacaerys.” You exhaled, and before you could convey what you felt into words, Jacaerys stepped forward, capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss.

It was fiery, far more charged than any entanglement you had before — and it was incredible. Passion, desire, devotion, love — it all began to roll into one sentimental conglomerate that flared between the both of you. Your hand clenched around the stems of Lady’s Lace, the other draping over his shoulder.

Jacaerys felt a tightening within his throat, canting his head to one side, deepening the kiss with a trembling exhale. Anticipation and exhilaration flooded through him, stirred to arousal when your fingers curled into the shoulder of his tunic.

He was the one to pull away first, ardor written all over his handsome features. “Come with me.” Jace whispered, taking a hold of your hand as he led you down the path from Aegon’s Garden. The land turned from towering pines and bogs of cranberries to an endless expanse of pale sands and gentle waves that lapped at the shore.

With a spring in your step, you trailed after Jacaerys, feet sinking into sand instead of dirt. The sight of Dragonstone in the distance was breathtaking — an obsidian citadel, your home. On your end the stretch, rocky formations and jagged cliff sides arching from the island, dark rock imbued with flecks of crystal.

Unveiling the torch from his light knapsack, Jacaerys struck it with flint and steel, enough of a spark to set it ablaze. Along the strand, moonlight touched the Narrow Sea, basking it in a wave of silvery light. The gentle ambiance of saltwater kissing sand made you feel at-ease.

In his time spent exploring Dragonstone, much of it done in his youth, he discovered many natural alcoves and caves, but none so mesmerizing as the one beneath the watchtower. The tower itself sat atop a large rise of rock, but it was rarely utilized, given the lack of military presence.

The soft sand began to run into walls of rock, surrounded by brush upon an incline and scattered pine trees. You stopped close by, gazing out into the ocean, the sight beautiful from where you stood.

Jacaerys joined you, placing the torch and bedroll along the ground as he joined you, finding the view to be nothing short of perfection. Only the ambiance of crashing waves resonated around you, and you reached for his hand, offering him a gentle smile.

You noticed the cozy resting place constructed by Jacaerys, something that caught your attention. Part of you hoped that it meant what you thought, but you never wanted to assume. As you turned to face Jacaerys, he seemed prepared, visibly steeling himself.

“Are you intending on sleeping here?” You murmured, voice tinged with a sweetness to it. His features turned from pallid to rosy, and he seemed to clear his throat and straighten his posture. “Unless you’ve no intention of sleeping.”

It caught him off-guard, features flushing with scarlet. “I would never pretend to assume,” Jacaerys shook his head, thumbs caressing your knuckles. Admittedly, he brought it all with the intention of simply being in your presence along the coastline, but your innocuous comment had planted ideas into his head. “I only thought it would keep you comfortable.”

A smile spread across your features, one that held nothing but affection and tenderness. “We can,” You had thought about it quite often since he last shared your bed. Here, in the gloom of the rock and moonlight, you didn’t need to be so cautious. “Only if it’s something you wanted too.”

Jacaerys blushed, cursing himself for allowing his expression to give him away so easily. He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a warm kiss to the soft skin there before he cleared his throat. “I’ve thought about you at every waking moment,” He whispered. “I am not ashamed to admit that I want you terribly.”

It transcended want — Jacaerys wanted you conventionally, as a man desired a woman, but it went beyond that. He wanted everything — your heart, your captivating mind, every fiber of your being.

That was love — and it was a dangerous thing, perilous within times of such uncertainty, but Jacaerys was a man of action, and he no longer wanted to wait in the gallows for you. He wanted to love you while there was still time left, while some peace still clung on by a thread.

Before you could speak, he stepped closer, swallowing the growing lump within his throat. He wasn’t a boy — he was every bit a man, and he would make his intentions known like one. “I feel more than just want,” Jace uttered, keeping your hands tethered together. “That is not adequate enough to describe what I feel for you.”

You shivered, feeling goosebumps rake across your spine in the wake of his confession. Knowing that Jacaerys wanted you just as much as you did him was reassuring. “How do you feel?” You whispered, voice barely above a whisper, as if yearning to know the inner machinations of his mind, know exactly how he felt.

“I love you,” Jacaerys felt a bit of a weight lift from his shoulders. He wanted to ask you to marry him — but it felt sudden. This confession needed to linger before he asked something so monumental of you. “I love you.” He said it again, to ensure its meaningfulness.

Words turned to ash within your mouth, and you could think of nothing else to say — only that you loved him, too. “I love you, too.” Those of an older age would label it puppy love, a fool’s errand — but not you, and not Jacaerys. There was no sweeter love than that born of friendship and devotion.

“Kiss me, Jace.”

That was all it took, all it needed to take — he was yours, unconditionally so, and he would be until his last days.

Without hesitation, Jacaerys captured your lips in a searing kiss, his mouth emblazoned upon yours. The bouquet of Lady’s Lace you held had been placed to the wayside, amongst Jace’s belongings to ensure that you would have it upon your return to Dragonstone.

Everything had seemed so fleeting and cautious before, as if the two of you were caught within a slow dance, hesitant to fully act upon desire. Lust was something different entirely, different from the love you felt for him, the carnal passion. Your arms tossed themselves around his neck, threading against the nape of his neck.

His arm hitched around your hips, bringing you flush against his chest as his mouth tangled with yours. It was a delicate duel of lips and fervor, his hand grasping at the fabric of your gown. He wondered what you would look like, bare and bathed by the gloom of moonlight.

There, on the pallid shores of Dragonstone, your love blossomed yet again. It was similar to the emotions felt the first time, the excitement and anticipation, the flourish of nerves that followed suit, only with the added familiarity. Jacaerys knew what he wanted — he wanted you.

“Are you certain?” Jace asked in between kisses, breathless and wanton as he swallowed the lump within his throat. Despite you having expressed your desire moments prior, establishing clear consent was appreciative on both ends.

“Yes,” You exhaled, eyes glittering through the dusk. “More than anything.” You sealed your statement with a kiss, one that Jacaerys happily reciprocated. He coaxed you closer, leading you toward the thick, furred bedroll atop the sand.

Jacaerys was the first to descend, unclasping the draconic sigil that kept his cloak upon his shoulders, letting it drape across the bedroll. His breath hitched slightly when you crawled into his lap, bringing your hands to his chest, digits sinking into the velvet of his embroidered doublet.

He kissed you tenderly, yet passionately — not an ounce of roughness in his movements, nor a desire to manhandle you. Jacaerys treated you as if you were sacred, a goddess to be worshiped, and he wanted to ensure that he was worthy of you.

It was a beautiful sight, surrounded by the shadowed gloom of pine trees, massive cliffs, and the calm lapping of the ocean’s tides as they swayed into the shore. The flickering of torchlight provided some illumination, but the moon was plentiful.

You were beautiful, prettier when you sat within his lap, gowns pooling around you. Jacaerys brought his hands to the small of your back, finding the ties of your bodice as he loosened them, watching the fabric sag upon your physique. His fingers wandered, curling into the front of your dress.

“May I?” He always asked — you never expected it of him, but the effort he put forth was always appreciated. You nodded, shrugging your arms enough to free yourself from the upper half of your gowns, breasts exposed to the cool, dusk air.

Jacaerys was constantly beguiled by your beauty — he would never tire of it, nor did he want to. He was less shy this time, but reserved about how he touched you, hand skirting along your naked back. The other cupped beneath your jaw, lips colliding with yours once more.

Your hands found purchase atop his broad shoulders, seeking to free him from his doublet. Admittedly, he looked so painfully handsome in it, adorned in the ancient colors of House Targaryen, but you wanted to see him, freckled skin and taut muscle.

Each kiss was like wildfire, spreading with a heat and intensity that threatened to consume you both. Goosebumps cascaded along the length of your spine, body shivering when he gripped you tightly, mouth moving in a blissful tandem with yours.

His lips began to roam, reaching for the soft slope of your jaw, peppering you in delicate kisses as he found your neck. Jace savored your taste, like honey and warmth upon his tongue, skin soft and silky. He wondered how you were real — perfection made living and breathing before him, his heart belonging to you.

“Jacaerys,” You sighed with passion, hands carding through his soft, dark curls. They were perfect to trace your fingertips through, giving you something to grip as his mouth traveled lower, showering you in kisses across your collarbone. “Please, I need you.” A groan escaped you as he dipped close to your breasts.

Arousal stabbed at his gut like a hot knife, a good sort of torture as his cock twitched within his breeches. It wasn’t foreign to him — yearning for you was no longer foreign. His hand fell away from your jaw, gathering at the hem of your gowns as he pushed his palm beneath the fabric, fingers dancing along your leg.

Again, you insistently pushed at his tunic, unbuttoning the silvery clasps to the left, situated beneath a layer of embroidery and velvet. He shuddered at your enthusiasm, his own delight present when your soft hands embraced his chest, gliding over bare muscle.

You nudged his doublet into the bedroll, able to feel all of him now. He was so handsome, layered in a smattering of freckles, still growing into himself, not that you minded. Jacaerys was broad-shouldered and lean, muscle defined and glistening with silver from the moonlight.

His hand continued its ascent, gripping your thigh to signal where he wanted to go, and all you could do was encourage him. “Please.” You breathed, parting from his kiss for just a moment. Jace watched you closely, kissing you wherever he could as his fingers dipped into the warm apex between your legs.

Jacaerys deftly pressed his digits against your cunt, tracing the line of your slit with a feather-light embrace. You gasped, faces pressed closely together, breath hot, bodies aching for more. He found himself enticed by your pleasure, brown hues transfixed on the way your body bent to him.

He sometimes wondered how such a thing was even possible, but the logistics mattered little — he was simply delighted to please you. Jacaerys mimicked his movements from the previous tryst, thumb grazing against your clit as the other two stroked around the rest of your cunt.

Gods, he loved you — it nearly overwhelmed him, then and there, but he held his ground through the onslaught of sentiment he felt. Jacaerys pressed another kiss against your mouth, lingering and intense, digits sinking themselves into your cunt.

Your lips clamored for his, breathy and hot as you moaned into his mouth, hips rolling into his hand. His skin felt soft beneath your fingertips, gripping tightly into his shoulder blades as you allowed pleasure to overtake you. He gave you everything you needed, thumb continuing to circle your clit.

There was no greater sight, Jacaerys thought, seeing you half naked on the beach, cast in silver from the moon. Each glimpse rendered him breathless, heart hammering within his chest, afraid that it might simply rip open.

Breathy, warm pants escaped the both of you, lips occasionally reaching for one another, a moment of bliss and pleasure before Jace gently moved away, showing you affection elsewhere. He bent his head as one would in reverence, finding your breast as he pressed strings of kisses all around your pliant peak.

A sweet moan arose from your lips, a cry of delight as your Prince pleasured you. Part of you felt a pang of guilt for not reciprocating, but he was often insistent on letting it all revolve around you, something you would have to rectify in the future. His arm locked around your back, the other still happily wedged between your thighs.

Your fingers found his hair again, holding at the base of his skull as thick, dark curls threaded themselves through your grasp. Jacaerys groaned at the pleasurable sensation, lips drifting from one of your breasts to the other, taking your nipple into his mouth. He kissed and nibbled around the bud, causing you to shiver.

“Will you let me touch you, too?” You asked, in between throaty pants and needy whimpers. You didn’t want him to stop, and simply wanted him to share in your ecstasy. Jacaerys nodded, feeling your hands release his tresses to tug at the leather ties of his breeches, loosening them up enough to free his cock.

His hips stuttered slightly into your hand, a low groan tearing past his lips as he resumed his focus, allowing two of his fingers to tease your entrance. The warm, soft sensation of your palm closing around his hardened length made him grit his teeth, attempting to maintain his composure.

Just as Jacaerys handled you with adoration, you reciprocated such a notion, stroking from base to tip, finding it somewhat difficult to focus on yourself and him. Nonetheless, the shared bliss was exhilarating to behold, between your pleasured countenance and Jace’s unrestrained grunts and sighs.

The threat of war mattered little, as if it simply ceased to exist when he was in your presence. Duty died then and there, love took its place, like a blossom amongst the rubble — whatever fear he thought he had abandoned had been restored anew.

What was duty compared to that of your touch? What was honor? His honor had been hanging by a thread since your last tryst, and he feared he had lost it altogether by indulging in this, but he was wrong. It was loving you, devoting himself to you, proving to all that he was the heir, the succession.

He kissed you hard, as if he were pouring every ounce of his being into you, as if it would make you both one. Jacaerys savored the feeling of your lips, soft and plump as they returned that passion tenfold. Your ravenous state was born of ardor, and nothing more.

Between the rhythmic rocking of his hand into your cunt, thumb continuing to caress your clit, and the shy strokes of your hand against his cock, the both of you were well on your way to a shared release. He wanted to be inside of you, taste you if he could, but perhaps that would be saved for another day.

You mewled a string of delicate praises, wanting Jace to hear just how perfect he felt. A gentle breeze brought with it the mist of saltwater, peppering itself across your back, a soothing feeling amidst the feverish onslaught of warmth brewing between you and Jacaerys.

“I want you.” He groaned through half-gritted teeth, jaw tensing as his hips jutted forward into your palm. You nodded several times over, adjusting your skirts as you ensured that they wouldn’t be as much of an obstruction. Jace sluggishly removed his fingers from your weeping core, feeling you hover closer.

Aligning his hardened cock with your cunt, you shakily lowered yourself onto him, gasping at the sudden intrusion and stretch. Jacaerys grunted, forehead pushing into yours as one arm encircled you, fingers kneading into the plush flesh of your hips.

The newfound position was unfamiliar to the both of you, but you were so lost within the ecstasy that neither of you voiced any displeasure. It was quite the opposite, in fact. His length throbbed inside of you, aching with a burning want that simply refused to be extinguished.

You were unsure of how to proceed, acting upon instinct and what felt right, rocking your hips back and forth in a rhythmic motion. It was good, but you tried again, finding your pace with uncertainty. When you began to lightly move up and down, thighs stinging with a burning sensation, you knew that was perfect.

“Jacaerys,” You gasped, feeling his hand clamp down into the swell of your hip, guiding you along as best as he could. Each rock of your hips atop him sent him into a sea of bliss, savoring the warmth and tightness of your cunt. His head dipped down, finding the column of your throat. “Jace!” A whine escaped you, needy and wanton.

He pressed needy kisses into your neck, savoring the taste of your skin, sweet and heady. You continued to adapt to the newfound position, gently moving your hips in a rhythmic motion. Your body felt feverish, as if it had been set ablaze, stomach swirling with molten heat as arousal pooled between your legs.

Despite the sight of you, resplendent and glowing atop him, Jacaerys wanted to feel it all — and there wasn’t much that he could do like this. His hand gently coaxed you to the side, wanting to ease you down into the furs beneath you.

Much to your shared delight, you quietly obeyed, breath hitching within your throat as you moved to your back, with Jacaerys reassuming his position between your legs. His veined hand gingerly traced along your thigh, the other rooted near the sand to keep himself afloat.

Carnality festered between the both of you, like a smoldering flame, unable to be controlled. You gazed up at him, doe-eyed and devoted, an intimate look that was reserved only for him. Jacaerys gently pushed your skirts up enough to allow him movement, the head of his cock kissing your entrance.

His chest rose and fell with heavier sighs, and he nearly groaned when you peppered light, fleeting kisses along his sculpted jaw. “Are you alright?” He asked, voice strained with desire, having dropped to a delicate octave that stroked at the back of your mind.

It was bliss and ardor you felt, no longer clipped by the sting of discomfort or the uncertainty of your actions. You knew exactly what you wanted — whom you wanted, who you loved. “I am,” You reassured him, feeling his hand caress the inside of your thigh. “I love you.” Your smile spread quickly across your features, like the first inkling of daybreak.

Jacaerys moved forward then, deliberately sinking his hardened length into you, letting it fill you, bit by bit. The sensation was euphoric, aided by your shared sentiments and declarations of love. “I love you.” He hummed, a smile toying at either corner of his mouth as he dipped down to kiss you.

There was a poignant seriousness about the first time you lay together, and that same feeling was felt here too, only less intense. Instead, you felt the thrill of being with him, the desire, love — perhaps a touch of lightheartedness. He made love to you as if you’d been lovers for a thousand years already.

He began to adopt a passionate pace, one that filled your body with a pleasant buzz. With each thrust, he bottomed out inside of you, withdrawing his cock just enough to make the next movement count. A myriad of husky groans and excitable exhales escaped him, coupled with your own sweet moans.

The hand that had perched against your thigh began to drift toward the warmth between your legs, thumb seeking your clit again as he rolled his hips into you. You sighed with passion, hitching one leg around his hips, the other bumping into his side.

“You’re perfect.” Jacaerys murmured into the hollow of your throat, his tousled mane of curls within perfect reach of pulling and tugging. His lips showered you in untold amounts of affection, traveling from your slender neck to your collarbone, hot breath sinking into your skin.

Goosebumps crawled across your flesh as a brisk, oceanic breeze swept over you, but Jacaerys kept you warm, shielding you with his fire. You traced your fingers over the freckles dusted across his shoulders, one hand gripping at his shoulder, the other tangling into his thick tresses.

Your back arched slightly, careening into him as he circled your clit with his thumb, letting it meld into the rhythm of his thrusts. His cock throbbed with a lustful ache, on the verge of release, losing himself within you. Everything felt so euphoric, as if time stood still, the both of you tangled together on the beach.

A vigor began to take hold, boldening his strokes and furthering his ministrations, driving himself deep inside of you with every breath he drew. It was loving and gentle, the sort of tenderness shown in true acts of intimacy. It was difficult not to become so overwhelmed that he became sporadic — Jace wouldn’t subject you to that.

The feeling of his mouth hungrily swirling across your body made you whimper, arousal sinking like a pleasant weight within your stomach. His thumb caressed your clit, wanting to bring you to a release with him, if he could.

His name fell heavy upon your tongue, an incantation that only you could cry, laced with ardor and reverence. Jacaerys never tired of hearing you say his name — if it were up to him, he would have you say it a thousand times over. You tugged at his curls, coaxing him in for an open-mouthed kiss.

The coil that furled within you began to loosen, bliss following suit as your hips writhed beneath him, rolling into each thrust. Jacaerys groaned at the friction, brow dappled with a sheen of perspiration as he kissed you back, hand curling into a fist within the furs.

It was all tongue, mouths, bodies pressed together, heat — desire laid bare, and you gladly drowned yourself in it. You moaned into his mouth, foreheads pressed together as you shuddered, the dam breaking within your stomach. It all unfurled, reaching your peak in-tandem with Jacaerys.

He buried his face into yours, brows furrowing together, countenance one of sheer bliss as he released, seed spilling inside of you before he pulled himself out halfway through. Jacaerys felt that tide of bliss soon afterwards, attempting to make himself somewhat decent.

He didn’t leave you, composure regaining itself as you rode your release, body shivering with delight. You felt him lay next to you, still damp with inklings of sweat and saltwater mist. You exhaled, your skirts thoroughly ruffled and rucked around your hips.

You sat up, peering at Jacaerys through your lashes, your smile affectionate and smitten. His fingertips traced along the soft plane of your back, drawing delicate patterns there. “I’ll never grow tired of that.” You confessed, and it lightened the moment, prompting him to laugh.

A shade of rose coated his visage, brown hues sparkling with admiration as he caressed along your spine. “Neither will I,” Jacaerys agreed, sitting up enough to help pull your gown back into place. He didn’t know anything about lacing a bodice back together, but he could certainly try. “I cannot get enough of you.” He murmured, pressing a kiss against your shoulder.

A blossoming warmth flooded through you, accompanied with a feeling of pure bliss — he was sweet, and it made you feel incredibly fortunate. You felt his fingers find the ties of your gown, carefully maneuvering them back into place, kissing along your spine as he did so.

“We don’t have to leave.” You crooned, feeling his chin perch atop your shoulder, lips delicately peppering themselves along your neck. Your tone was a touch melancholy, knowing that when the dawn began to spread across the horizon, you would have to return to the realm of being apart again.

You could stay a thousand years, just as he had told you in Aegon’s Garden.

Jacaerys’s jaw tensed slightly — he wanted to ask you. It was opportune, and he wouldn’t have to be apart from you again. It would be so effortless, taking your hand and asking for you to be his wife, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, but he couldn’t.

The silence made you somewhat concerned, and you turned enough to face him, head canting to one side. “Is something on your mind?” You inquired, cradling his face within your palm. You could see the storm behind his eyes, the curtain of contemplation.

Ask — ask her to be your wife.

Jace’s proposal turned to ash within his mouth. It would be a disservice to his mother and to your House if he simply acted. He wanted to ask your father, ease his mother toward the subject, go about it the proper way. This was the right way, asking you out of love and passion, but he couldn’t.

Not yet, at least.

“Nothing,” His lips twitched into a genuine smile as he reached for your hands, cradling them within his own, thumbs stroking your knuckles. “Know that I would go anywhere with you, if I could. I love you,” Jace assured, and you knew it to be true. “I am yours.”

You smiled, wanting to hold onto the moment for as long as you could. It was disheartening to have another wonderful evening shattered by reality, by the duty that bound the both of you elsewhere. “I love you, too.” You murmured, pressing a kiss against his jaw.

His countenance glistened with disdain at the idea of having to return to the castle — to separate rooms, to two different lives. Jacaerys wanted you by his side, and if fate would have it, he would not have to wait for much longer. Temperance and patience would endure.

There would be no staying together until dawn arose — no chance to hold you throughout the night, shield you from any shadows that might harm you. Jacaerys felt the weight of it sink into his stomach, and it made him treasure these moments with you even more.

“We should return to Dragonstone.” You uttered, as if the statement itself was a damnable curse. Your throat tightens slightly, but you maintained your composure, helping to collect his scarce belongings and clasp his doublet back into place.

Jacaerys could see the dismay upon your face, and it only made him ache with yearning, a desire to wipe away all of your melancholy. He pressed a kiss against the top of your head, and when the both of you stood in the sand, gazing at one another with a look of longing, he wanted to prolong your return for as long as he could.

“Not just yet,” Jacaerys uttered, reaching for your hand as he held it within his own, his forehead dipping to rest against yours. “Not just yet.” He whispered, tenderhearted smile reaching his eyes before he leaned in for a kiss.

copyright @ swordgrace ; please do not steal or translate my work onto other platforms or claim it as your own.

[radiance1]

You know the drill.

Cultists want to summon the Ghost King, the League pull up to stop them, failed summoning successfully and got Ghost Prince Danny.

With a twist.

The head cultist tells Danny what they want, but it's so pitiful that Danny just sits them down, each and every one of the cultists and explains that maybe it isn't the best idea to give your soul to an otherworldly entity just for that.

Then it somehow turns into therapy because Jesus Christ these people have been living some pretty shit lives, then Danny decides to pull some favors with Frostbite and the Yetis to get some of the cultists family members medical treatment for their Mother/Father/Siblings that they're too poor to pay for.

Other times he just kinda tries to get a few others to get more confidence after being drawn in by a few bad people against their will and try and give them ways to get out of said situation.

The entire time the Justice League was just, there, watching all of this go down and questioning a lot of things. Simultaneously Batman is thinking of starting up a program to not make this a repeat, wherein people think they have no other options than to give up their literal soul to an otherworldly entity in hopes to turn their life around.

[bratzforchris]

Animal

Summary: Unfair ref calls end up getting Matt placed in the penalty box during a game. The best way to relieve his anger afterwards is sitting in the stands and wearing a miniskirt. Based off of this edit<3

Pairing: Hockey player!Matt x implied bimbo and WAG!reader

Warnings: Smut, semi public sex (storage room), dumbification, rough dom!Matt, unprotected p in v, creampie, hair pulling, gagging, masturbation (m), spitting, oral (m receiving), sir kink if you squint, lots of sex/dirty talk, literally pure filth

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: I don't know anything about hockey, so please bare with me for any inaccuracies!! Get your holy water ready...💗

“Good luck!” You smiled, standing on your tiptoes to kiss Matt’s cheek, despite your white kitten heels. “I’ll see you after the game!”

Matt picked you and spun you around, hand cheekily slipping under your pink miniskirt to grab your ass. “I’m looking forward to it.” he whispered huskily in your ear, secretly suckling on the sweet spot behind the flesh. 

You pressed one last kiss to Matt’s lips outside the locker room before bidding him goodbye and scurrying to the special VIP box in the stands of TD Garden that was specifically reserved for the families and friends, but especially wives and girlfriends of the members of the Boston Bruins. Call it shallow or silly, but ever since you were a small girl you had always dreamed of dating a member of your favorite hockey team. Like many New Englanders, you took hockey seriously, and it seemed only fitting for your prince to have skates and a hockey stick rather than a horse. 

The universe must’ve worked in your favor. You and Matt had been next door neighbors for all of your childhood, and had started dating your senior year of high school, just before he had been signed to the Bruins. Everyday since then had been a dream. You were practically Matt’s personal cheerleader, on the ice and off. When you thought about that, along with his flirty mention from earlier, you felt your cheeks flush as you shifted in your seat and adjusted your skirt. Matt’s favorite way to celebrate (and lick his wounds after a loss) a game was in the bedroom and you doubted tonight would be any different. 

You blushed and adjusted your skirt, excitedly catching up with one of Matt’s teammates’ girlfriend who had been out of town for the last home game. No matter how much you tried to move your mind away from the topic, you couldn’t stop yourself from going back to his promises and the feeling of his hands on your backside. 

As the game got ready to start and Matt skated out onto the ice, you couldn’t help but to stand and cheer, bouncing softly on the balls of your feet as you clapped. You knew that he couldn’t hear you, but when your boyfriend turned and made an ‘I love you’ sign towards the private box, your heart soared. 

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

“Damn.” You cursed quietly, watching the Vancouver Canucks score yet another goal.

The ref for this game was being less than fair, and as Matt lifted his helmet during the second intermission, you could see the agitation etched onto his face. He was making good plays and everyone knew it. You felt your heart drop as you watched him try to contain his anger over the Jumbotron, mumbling small ‘fuck’’s under his breath. Matt put his heart and soul into each and every hockey game, and to not get the outcome he wanted based off of some unfair ref calls sucked. 

As the teams took the ice again, you noticed a change in your boyfriend’s demeanor. Matt always played aggressively, but it was more visible now. With each slide of the puck, he was getting madder and madder, skating around the rink furiously. You nibbled the sides of your light pink acrylic nails furiously, growing anxious yourself. Matt was, by definition, an absolute animal in hockey, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he snapped. There was a reason his team nickname had been ‘The Burier’ since the eighth grade. It’s what he was known for. 

Sure enough, not even five minutes later, the ref stopped the game as Matt snapped. He had met his limit for shit he would take from the officials and the other team. Calling boarding, the ref forced Matt into the penalty box. Though everyone else seemed to continue on with the game after the call, you watched the box with cautious eyes. The brunette looked absolutely furious as he tossed his helmet and sticks to the side. You wanted to feel awful, to go down there and fight with the ref despite your pink miniskirt and lack of overall sports knowledge, but as Matt’s darkened blue eyes looked up to where you were sitting, you couldn’t feel anything other than excitement at how he would most likely take you home and fuck you until you were crying. 

The game ended quicker than you expected, with the Canucks winning by two goals. As you stood up and gathered your purse and coat, you felt your phone buzz. You knew who it was, seeing as how Matt had just skated into the locker room a few moments prior. 

Matt: get your ass to the storage room near section 20. i’m not fucking waiting until we get home.

You felt your cheeks blush at the way just Matt’s tone in the message had your lacy, white thong already soaked. You popped a piece of strawberry gum into your mouth, knowing Matt absolutely devoured the taste on your tongue like a man starved and began to slide through the crowd to his requested meeting area. Luckily, the frenzy of people trying to exit the arena made it easy for you to go unnoticed. Though you weren’t famous of yourself, you were still extremely well-known and popular in the hockey community, leading people to ask you for photos and autographs, even if you weren’t with your lover. 

The storage room by section 20 was mostly deserted, save for an exhausted janitor sweeping by the vending machines, and Matt. He had changed out of his team uniform and into baggy, gray sweatpants and a forest green hoodie, the hood pulled tight over his brown curls. Even in spite of his ‘disguise’, you would’ve recognized him anywhere. 

“Hey baby,” You hummed, letting out a cute giggle as you leaned into Matt’s chest. “You got a temper today?” You asked innocently, blinking your large, false lashes up at him. 

“The ref was a fucking dick.” Matt cursed, pulling you both into the storage closet and locking the door from the inside. 

The light inside the closet was dim and flickering. That, combined with the small space because of the cleaning supplies, mops, and brooms, and the casual smell of mildew was less than romantic. Nevertheless, you could feel your panties soaking at the sight of the tent in Matt’s gray sweats. Knocking the brooms to the side, Matt pushed you against the wall, flicking your gum out of your mouth and beginning to passionately make out with you. His tongue fought yours for dominance, spit mixing with your lip gloss as it dribbled down your chin. 

“Matt…” You whimpered, knees going weak from all of the good feelings you were experiencing. 

“Already at a loss for words, baby doll?” he chuckled, smirking cruelly. “All you can think about is being a slut, huh?” 

You whimpered and nodded, moving your hands up to push the hood off of Matt’s head and tangle your pink acrylic nails in his feathery hair. “Oh…” You breathed. 

Matt practically pushed you to your knees, tossing your heels to the side and making you kneel. From this angle, he had a perfect view of your cleavage in your babydoll tee, the flowery print cups of your push-up bra peeking over the edge. Your boyfriend began to palm himself through his sweatpants, head thrown back in a moan as he looked at the little protests coming from your pouty lips. 

“You gonna take my cock like a good fuckin’ girl?” Matt asked, tipping your chin up to look at him with his other hand. “Gonna show me who the real winner is today?”

You looked up at him with your head cock, almost like that of a pathetic, lost puppy, before nodding quickly. “Promise.” You smiled with a giggle. 

Matt continued to jerk himself like there was no tomorrow, not caring that his moans were growing louder. “Need to get you ready first,” he mumbled, unhinging your jaw with his ring-clad hand. “Open.” 

You did as Matt asked, watching as he gathered his own saliva and then spit in your mouth, holding your chin closed. You blushed, smiling up at his hard face. Just looking at you was making him grow more sexually frustrated, but he couldn’t stop the warmth that spread through his chest at how adorable you looked on your knees, obeying his demands and ready to suck him off until you gagged. Less than a minute later, Matt had yanked down his plaid boxers and pants, thrusting his dick towards your mouth. 

You slowly took his tip into your mouth, licking circles onto his pretty, pink head that was already dripping with precum. The further you took him into your mouth, the more noises he began to make, fists tangling themselves in your hair as he yanked you closer to him by the hair, desperate for more pleasure. By the time his dick had hit the back of your throat, you were practically gagging as Matt bucked his hips towards your face, cock already twitching as his orgasm grew in his belly. 

“You can take it…” he hissed, pulling on your hair again as you whimpered around his dick. “Yeah, right there. Jesus Christ, princess. Makin’ me feel so goddamn good.” 

The way Matt was fucking your face was angry, like he had been since the ref started making those calls, but it was far from mean. He just had pent up, animalistic energy and it needed a release. Turned out that ‘release’ was you, kneeling and spread like a whore, drool and lipgloss puddling down your chin as you took his cock. You couldn’t make any noises other than small whimpers as grunts as you slid the flat of your tongue across the vein on his underside, but Matt could tell you were enjoying this blowjob as much as he was b y the way your nails were digging into the backs of his legs. 

“‘M gonna cum,” Matt groaned. “Better swallow every last fuckin’ drop of it too.”

You nodded as Matt bucked his hips against your face one last time, orgasm overtaking him. You could feel his cock twitching in your mouth as hot, white ropes of cum shot towards the back of your throat. Your boyfriend pulled off your mouth with a pop, holding your lips closed. Once you had swallowed, you wiped your mouth with the sleeve of your pink cardigan, pouting up at him. 

“You got yours. It’s my turn.” You grumbled cutely.

“You know, it really is true what they say about whores,” Matt snorted roughly. “You’re just a bimbo. Don’t even realize that mouthing off won’t get you what you want.”

You whined, your panties growing soaked once more. “Yes sir.” 

“That’s what I thought,” Matt yanked you up roughly by the arm, pinning you against the wall. Before you knew it, Matt had pulled down your skirt, the fabric fluttering to a puddle around your ankles. He snapped the lacy elastic of your thong against your hip one time before ripping the material off, a sadistic gleam in his eyes. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time, y’know…” he trailed off, toying with the material. “Never seemed like the right time, but now, what do I have to lose? You’ve already been face fucked like a slut in a storage room, I lost the game and didn’t have an outlet for my stress, but now? I’m gonna have some fun now.” Matt smiled. 

The brunette pulled your lips open, shoving the white fabric of your panties into your mouth. Before Matt, you had never considered yourself a ‘kinky’ girl. Now though, you felt your lower stomach already clenching at the thought of how obscene what you were doing was. Your all-star hockey player was fucking you in the storage closet of his home arena and you were gagged with your own underwear. It was like something out of porn film, yet that only excited you more. 

“Now I can fuck that little cunt senseless without you making a sound.” Matt smirked, yanking off his hoodie and the shirt under it.

You let out a small whimper around your gag as Matt slammed into you, your back pushed against the cinderblock wall as he railed you. The feeling of him bare inside of you was making your pussy clench with want. Your climax had been building in your lower stomach ever since your boyfriend had sent you that text, and now, it was threatening to send you over the edge as Matt fucked you relentlessly. You whined against your gag again, back arching off the wall. You wanted nothing more than to cry out as you raked your nails across Matt’s tattooed arms and back. 

“Good fuckin’ girl,” the brunette husked in your ear. “Takin’ my dick like a little princess, huh?” Matt was bottomed out inside of you, hissing and grunting at the feeling of you clenching around him. “You gonna cum?” he asked, watching your face as the mascara and other makeup streamed down your cheeks from the tears of overstimulation. 

You nodded, grasping at Matt’s hair, back, anything, desperate for relief as Matt fucked you like an animal. Your orgasm hit you like a truck, the white-hot feeling overtaking your body as you writhed under Matt, back arching off the wall. Your boyfriend groaned as your cunt clenched around his cock, sensual noises falling from his lips as he coated your insides white. 

“Fuck, Y/N…you feel so fucking good.” Matt told you, pressing kisses to your neck as he softened inside of you. 

He removed your gag, moving from your neck to kiss your lips softly, licking up the last drops of your mixed saliva, strawberry gum, and lip gloss. You looked up at him, beyond fucked out and makeup ruined and smiled. 

“Guess you’re an animal on and off the ice, huh?” You blinked, all big Bambi eyes and ruined smiles. 

“You could say that.” Matt chuckled, continuing to press soft kisses across your flushed skin. 

In that moment, you didn’t care about the team’s loss, or Matt’s penalty. He was your winner and you wouldn’t trade him for the world. 

tags ♡: @jake-and-johnnies-slut @chrissfavwh3re @suyqa @chrissturnswife @mbsbaby @herxysc-blog @lovingchrissposts @caffeinatedscorpio @spencereidenthusiast @crazychrisl0v3r @sturnioloxlver @whicked-hazlatwhore @blahbel668 @sturncakez @junnniiieee07 @biggesthat3r @sturniolowhore @patscorner @julesgrl @0strawberrysorbet0 @strombolilovr @matt444nixi @remussbitch @devthepoet1221 @mattyblover07 @loisnotaa @mollyquinnxoxo @graysturns @pepsicolapussy333 @ginswife @emmagirouard @athaliahxoxo @bitchydragonparadise @ilydeaky @soggyslugg169 @m00n-0n-paws @books0fever @stingerayyy2 @sunsetsturniolos @mimi-luvzyu @raysmayhem-72 @faygo-frog @oobleoob @billsslutt @aemrsy

note ♡: if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here <3

[queenpiranhadon]

A/N: You all voted on this poll, and this poll, and this poll, and after a LOT of voting, I present you this :) BIG thanks to @that-multi-fandom-hijabi for beta reading this go follow her writing acc rn (@novaaaaaa-writes). Here's my masterlist!

Warning(s): Enemies to lovers trope, mentions of burning, stabbing, blood, bad descriptions of both fire of water (ice, snow ?) bending, Zuko is whipped, just a little confused about it, reader is a baddie, water benders unite (not me tho), reader is GN but written with f!reader in mind, reader looks non-threatening, is underestimated a lot, this takes place at the end of season one, I think that's it

Pairing: Prince Zuko x GN!Reader

•──•°•❀•°•─── ʜɪꜱ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀʙᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ───•°•☁︎•°•───•

“You shouldn’t be here” you glare, your gaze sending shivers down his spine. 

But that could just be because of all the snow and ice surrounding the both of you. 

The fire prince remains unfazed though, his amber eyes sweeping over your form- assessing the threat you posed. 

He could take you down in seconds. 

Zuko doesn’t respond to your jab though, because he knew you were wrong. He had to be here, it was the only way he could finally receive his father’s favor- as the heir and as the son of Firelord Ozai. It was his duty, his honor. 

And he wasn’t going to let a non-threatening waterbender get in the way of that. 

Reaching back, he unsheathes his dual swords, the glint of the waning moonlight reflecting the dangerous glint in his eye. 

And yet you didn’t back down.  

Pooling some water from your waterskin, you assumed the stance you had trained yourself to take whenever you honed your skills. One with the water, one with the ice.  

‘Power should flow, not force itself” Master Pakku had told you once.  

People had always underestimated your skills, saying you were better suited for healing. But after showing Master Pakku how you could use your bending to control the falling snow around you, he gave you a chance.  

He had told you to let the power settle in your body before releasing, instead of forcing it out immediately. Conceal and then control. 

You met Zuko’s fiery gaze with an icy one of your own. You were going to protect your home.  

With a yell, you form flurries of snow, whipping around your form as you channel your strength to change the form of your flurry, snow turning to water, water turning to sharp daggers of pure ice.  

Zuko scowls, setting his hands ablaze and you run at each other, fire meeting ice.  

Time slows down, as the intensity of your elements picks up, until all you could hear was the steady thump – thump – thump – of your heart, and the roar of crystalline knives swirling around you. 

Flames lick the side of your leg, wincing as the raw burn of the fire sears through your skin in white-hot pain. Razor sharp icy shards cut into Zuko’s skin, finding chinks in his armor, piercing his flesh and drawing blood. 

The snow beneath the both of you was dotted red now, both of you staring at each other, panting heavily.  

“You really shouldn’t be here.” you repeat again, but this time, it was barely a whisper, swallowing down tears as the cold wind of the Northern Water Tribe stung your gaping wounds. 

Zuko growls, grunting in pain as he pulls a shard of ice out of his skin.“I don’t take orders from a little waterbender” he spat, venom dripping from his words. 

You reciprocate with a snide comment of your own. “This ‘little waterbender’ just sunk 5 icicles into your skin.” 

Zuko was just about ready to tear your head off, hands igniting with vermillion flames before you collapse, the burns along your thigh and calf were much more severe than either of you realized.  

You choke out a sob of pain but keep your control of the water left in your waterskin. You couldn’t die, not today, and not at the hands of the prince of the Fire Nation.  

Zuko’s heart throbs unexpectedly, the look on your face too familiar for comfort. The face of someone who worked so desperately hard, only for all that effort to go down the drain. But he didn’t care for you. He couldn’t- couldn’t grow attachment to a non-threatening waterbender. Yet you sat there on the snow, dotted with blood, with that raw look in your eyes. His flames extinguished, without him meaning to.  

You flinched as he threw his swords down frustrated, impaling themselves into the nearby snow mound, standing straight up. 

He stomps over to you, and you frantically move back, but your leg flares up in pain again, and you yelp, hissing in pain.

“Stop moving, you’ll make it worse.” he says, glaring at you, but not as intensely as he had before.  

You want to scream, kick him, punch him, anything, but your body betrays you as he sweeps you up into his arms, carrying you to the nearest place he can find, where he can keep you safe. You feel his strong arms hook under your knees and under your back, holding you securely to his firm chest. Even through his armor, he radiates warmth, a gentle heat, unlike the flames he threw at you merely minutes ago.  

He hates this, with every fiber in my being, his voice screaming at him to drop you and burn your frail body to a crisp, vengeance for the blood dripping from his own body, but he keeps moving, step after painstaking step. 

You try to stay awake, you really do, yet channeling so much energy from your battle, the numb throb in your lower leg, and the comforting heat radiating off the fire prince who refuses to look at you, you slip into unconsciousness.  

Zuko feels a weight press against his chest, and he huffs, honey-colored eyes catching onto the details of your face, the curve of your nose, the apples of your cheeks, the slight pout of your lips as you nuzzle into his armor unintentionally, how pretty you were when you were at peace. 

He stops himself there, reprimanding himself for thinking such things. He can’t have feelings for the enemy. 

And yet, even as he and his troops head home, battle wearing and dejected from the loss of a major battle, Zuko can’t help but think about his little waterbender.  

*** 

When you wake up, the kind woman tending to you tells you all about the mysterious and handsome man who carried your sleeping form across the entire Northern Water Tribe because he didn’t know where the healing center was.  

[ladyempty]

What do you think it would be like? Steffon Baratheon's second child and only daughter. She inherited all of her great-mother's Targaryen genes. How far will Yandere Rhaegar go to marry reader?

° | This is a yandere work and may contain triggering behavior. I'm not in favor of that in real life. ° | pairing: Rhaegar Targaryen x Baratheon!Reader ° | English is not my first language

Foi uma surpresa para todos quando a segunda filha de Lorde Steffon nasceu. Uma menina saudável, ela nasceu gritando e chutando com força digna de um Baratheon, mas sua aparência era menos condizente com os outros membros da casa. Ao contrário de seu irmão mais velho, a menina nasceu com uma cabeleira loira platinada e grandes olhos roxos brilhantes.

An appearance so different that it made the midwives' eyebrows raise slightly and they looked at each other in obvious confusion. But everything was partially forgotten when Lord Steffon held his daughter in his arms and proclaimed loudly:

"A delight for the eyes like my Lady mother.”

Rhaegar's obsession would not take long to arrive, he was truly curious about the rumors spreading so quickly and was truly happy when his father demanded the presence of the Baratheon family to present the girl to the court.

For young five-year-old Rhaegar, the moment was as magical as the stories his mother told him and songs the bards sang. An overwhelming feeling that hit him like an arrow shot quickly and aimed at his heart.

Estamos falando de Rhaegar, limites são algo que ele não conhece. Ele tentará ser o mais sutil possível, mas falhará tão miseravelmente que pode ser engraçado. Quando ele quer algo, ele tem que ter.

As they grow up, the prince will try to win your heart at any cost, using his natural charm that made so many other ladies swoon, singing to you and playing beautiful and melancholic melodies on the harp. Countless gifts would be delivered to you in abundance, especially books that Rhaegar loved.

He has a lot of patience and will wait for his love, but if you are being too difficult... We know he will resort to kidnapping. Or if it is Aenys who refuses to cooperate... Then the king appears mysteriously dead a few days later.He simply had no limits when it came to the prophecy and you...

You would be his and he would be yours... a dragon had to have three heads, and only a dragon could love other dragons.

[bunni-v1]

Can I please request a reader that has been so traumatised by what’s happened in the Scarabia book that they actively avoid the entire dorm and have Ace and Deuce as their guard dogs (I love those two and I really love how you wrote them as the readers protective besties during the Malleus break up fic). Like how would Kalim, Jamil and Adeuce react to that?

I find it really cathartic when I read fics that have the characters feeling guilty after what they put the reader through whilst the reader is getting support from their friends.

(Something I’m really salty about in twst is how no one ever holds the overblots accountable for what they’ve done. I full on agreed with Ace when he told Riddle that crying wasn’t going to erase all that he did before the overblot and I literally fell in love with him when he punched Riddle after he insulted us/Yuu/the player. I understand that those boys are traumatised and are in desperate need of therapy and overblotting was the only way for their problems to be solved but the treatment they inflicted on Yuu/us was downright hellish. Azul made us homeless and tore us away from the only family/comfort we had in twst (the ghosts) and then sent the tweels to terrorise us in our attempts to reclaim said home and free our friends from servitude; Jamil kidnapped us, hypnotised us, locked us up in a room against our will, isolated us from Adeuce and took away any contact we had with them, forced us on long marches in the dessert and turned a blind eye to our clear suffering during that time; Vil acted like a literal demon to not only us (and then almost made my Deucey cry) but everyone else as well and that was before he decided to try to murder an innocent teenager. Like why does no one understand just how much this can damage an actual child who has no magic and has been stripped from their home and family?)

Reader Terrified of Scarabia After Jamil’s Overblot

TW: PTSD; Mental Breakdown; Disassociation; Mentions of Abuse; Kalim and Jamil are tragic

Info: Ace, Deuce x Reader (platonic or romantic); Kalim, Grim x Reader (platonic); Jamil and Reader (neutral)

🍓I love requests like this tbh. My own OC sorta has her own grapplings with this stuff that I like to touch upon, and I’m excited I get the chance to talk about it here :) THIS IS LONG AS HELL BTW(like this intro here lol). I had a lot of fun writing it :))) I added a cute, shorter little grim part, because our little guy deserves more lovin’ than he gets. I also decided to do a cute little (read: long) intro, and then head cannons since you didn’t specify for either. I hope you enjoy this style, and I’m sorry for the wait <3

You had been through… a lot in your time at Night Raven College. Being thrown into a completely different world would’ve been enough, but it seems that the great seven thought you needed some extra troubles. You weren’t sure how you could’ve encored their wrath, but you were, and you were chugging along despite it all.

First was the attack from the phantom in the mines — something that should’ve been foreshadowing for what was to come. You didn’t even do anything to be in this position. It was Ace Grim and Deuce, but you got dragged into it all because you were “Grim’s keeper.” You managed to befriend Ace and Deuce though, so it wasn’t so bad.

Second was Riddle with his unending temper and strict rules. Despite everything telling you to just stay out of it, your good-natured heart just couldn’t stop you from helping Ace and Deuce. Nearly dying in the process, you managed to help Riddle and made newfound friends in Heartslabyul. 

Third came Leona, the selfish, stuck-up, lazy no-good prince of the Savannah. You knew he was trouble from the start, and you wanted nothing to do with him or his little lackey Ruggie. Then he hurt Trey, and you couldn’t stand by while he reigned terror on the school. He was a favorable ally to gain in the end, so you could dismiss his actions so long as he kept in his lane.

Fourth was Azul, another student you figured would cause you trouble. With the extra scary Jade and Floyd always tailing him, and that too buttery sweet voice of his, you were determined to keep your distance. Again, however, your friends were in trouble and you couldn’t help but help them. Azul was a broken person, and you could sympathize with his struggles. He even gave you a job at the lounge to help with funding yourself, so he couldn’t be all that bad.

You’d come to dislike the other house wardens out of principle. A pattern had emerged among them, and you weren’t going to fall victim to another horrific overblot. You still had suction cup-shaped bruises on your arm from Azul’s breakdown. Leona had given you more than just a nasty burn from the scalding hot whirlwind of sand he conjured up. The scars Riddle left behind on your face and arms were healed, but they still ached when you touched them. All painful reminders that you could not truly trust anyone here, that anyone could lose control of themselves and hurt you. Yet…

When you met Jamil in the kitchen, he seemed so kind to both you and Grim. He seemed so genuine and honest. Maybe it was wishful thinking, or maybe it was you missing your friends, but you wanted to trust him despite your gut feeling to be distrustful. Could everyone here really be that bad? Certainly not. Ace Deuce and Jack went here as well… so surely… surely…

The alarm bells didn’t ring at all during the dinner, and Kalim — despite everything you’ve been through — seemed so nice, if not a little overbearing. You could see the tiredness on Jamil's face, and you had the kindness in your heart to express your sympathies. And oh, Jamil so humbly assured you that he was fine. Filling your head with little half-truths and ideas that Kalim had been overworking not only him but the other students. That he had been acting “off” as of late.

You saw Kalim’s sudden shifts in personality. How he would be so sweet, so kind and soft. How he made sure you were enjoying yourself, made sure you ate to your heart's content, made sure you were comfortable in your uniform and your sleeping quarters. Then he would be yelling at everyone, demanding unspeakable exercises and work.

If Ace were there with you, he would’ve called bullshit. Still, you trusted Jamil to start. You actually believed he was kind and had good intentions. You believed that Kalim was the real evil here.

Then he wouldn’t let you and Grim leave, and the students were suddenly so aggressive toward you. He took everything you had and stripped you of your dignity and pride until there was nothing left but fight.

Truly, you didn’t realize it was him that was the issue until he was over-blotting in front of your eyes. It wasn’t an unusual sight to you at that point, you’d defeated multiple overblots and befriended these people. You don’t know what it was. The way you’d trusted him. The fact that you felt truly alone without Ace and Deuce. This one broke you…

You just didn’t feel a damn thing after he was saved. You felt no pity, no joy, no relief. Absolutely nothing, an empty void in your chest. Even as everyone around you celebrated, there was nothing. You stood watching everyone parade around with glee blankly, unable to speak to anyone around you. Just listening to the voices that had begun to mesh together.

You didn’t show anything until Ace and Deuce showed up. Something about their faces, the way they were looking over you, the way they seemed so scared for your wellbeing… it made you cry. It made you cry and cry and cry until you couldn’t make any noise and then you cried some more. They had to drag you away from everyone because you just couldn’t quite stand upright when Deuce would try to get you to walk away with him…

The days after were blurry. You remained holed up in your dorm, unable to really move from your bed. Ace and Deuce stayed in their own separate room next to yours. You could hear them talking through the walls about how worried they were about you, how angry they were at Jamil, how angry they were at themselves for not getting there in time to help you. If you’d had the energy, you would’ve scolded them for being so hard on themselves, but you could hardly speak in the first place.

They cared for you as best as they could. Deuce attempted to cook the recipes Trey sent him over magicam, making sure you ate and stayed hydrated. Occasionally you’d hear Azul downstairs, and Deuce would give you something nice from the Monstrolounge — free of charge, he promised. You could tell that he wasn’t sleeping much in his worry over you. 

Grim remained at your side as loyal as a dog and boasting that he’d keep you safe, but you knew he was scared too. He proclaimed that he would keep you safe, but you could feel him trembling at every sudden noise. You had to comfort him from the horrific nightmares he was having. That was okay, though, he was family and you were his.

Ace was the only one who really kicked your ass into gear. He’d tug you out of bed and into the shower as people began to return from winter break. Made you go on walks around campus to show you that you were completely safe. Eventually, he’d been able to get you to visit Azul to thank him directly for his kindness. He wasn’t soft or gentle with you, that wasn’t in his character at all, but he made sure you felt safe enough to return to classes before they started.

They both worked hard to help you recover, but you were still so afraid…

Ace

-Ace isn’t exactly the most comforting person, and he never claimed to be. 

-He’s not good at reassuring people, but he’s good at being honest, and if he was being honest he knew that you were safe around him and Deuce.

-He walks you to and from classes, spends most of his nights in your dorm doing whatever the hell you’d like him to do without complaint, distracts you when you’re freaking out, and most importantly keeps that snake as far away from you as possible.

-If he was being honest with himself, which was his whole thing, he didn’t really get your reaction to everything. 

-You’ve all been through this before, it's textbook at this point. A guy does some shady shit, a guy gets caught doing said shady shit, a guy overblots, and you defeat a guy with the power of friendship. Boom. Done.

-He’d get it more if you were completely alone, but grim and the octanivelle freaks were there! Kalim too, and he’s always seemed pretty nice. Not the best company, sure, but still you had people helping you out.

-When he looks at your face and sees how tired you are, he forgets the logical stuff. All he can hear are those horrific sobs you let out when you saw him and how you nearly ripped his uniform in half with how tightly you were holding him and Deuce.

-If that was too much for him, he can’t imagine how badly it must’ve felt for you. How bad it must still feel.

-So screw what he thinks, he’s gotta make sure you’re taking care of yourself.

-He doesn’t ask you how you’re feeling, he knows it's not good. He focuses on keeping your mind off of everything that might trigger you.

-Reroutes your paths to classes to avoid Jamil and Kalim completely. Sure it’s longer and more annoying, but it's better than you going dead silent and shutting him and everyone else out again.

-He does everything in his power and you’re doing so well… and then the VDC happens. 

-You’re given the title of manager and you’re forced to be around these people who terrify you. 

-Vil won’t budge on anything and sevens Ace wishes Rook would let him try out a little target practice with the (illegal) bow and arrows he’s got in his room.

-He keeps himself between you and Jamil at all costs. He won’t let Jamil bother you at all, not that he was trying in the first place.

-The real issue is Kalim, which sounds crazy, but it’s true.

-Kalim is so… forceful. A pretty strong word, but honestly the only one Ace can think to use.

-He’s really nice, really sweet, seriously such a good guy… but you’re still unsettled by him.

-There are several times during practices that Ace has to yell at him to just leave you alone.

-Sure, it gets him a pretty big scolding from Vil, but he couldn’t care less honestly. He doesn’t wanna risk you having a panic attack because Vil doesn’t wanna be a responsible leader.

-You confide in Ace a lot. How you really want to move past all this, but Crowley won’t provide you with any form of therapy, and you’re just not ready to forgive Jamil or Kalim for what happened.

-He won’t tell you this, but hearing you talk like this breaks his heart.

-You’re normally so strong, so brave, so confident… and now you’re absolutely broken.

-He’s proud of you for putting on a brave face to placate Vil, but he’s angry you have to.

-Surprisingly, though, you do begin to warm up to Kalim. Just a little. 

-It's only when Ace, Deuce, or Grim is around, but it's a really big step forward in his eyes.

-You’re getting back to where you used to be little by little.

-He still won’t give you or Jamil the chance to reconcile, but you honestly couldn’t be more grateful for that.

Deuce

-Deuce is incredibly different from Ace in how he handles everything.

-He’s a delinquent, sure, but he’s a Mama’s boy at heart. Therefore, he’s much more equipped to help you emotionally through all this than Ace.

-Where Ace is the harsh pushing force to keep you going, Deuce is the calm where you can rest and cry your heart out for as long as you need.

-As I mentioned, he makes sure you’re eating and drinking and at least speaking to someone.

-He asks Trey for recipes without leading on to what’s going on and asks Cater for advice on helping someone feel safe after a traumatic experience.

-It’s not subtle, but it helps.

-He handles making all your meals, even though he isn’t the best cook, he absolutely puts all his heart and soul into everything he makes.

-A good portion of his days are dedicated to cooking for you, and he gets pretty damn good at it by the time classes start up again!

-With Sam’s shop closed, he has to go into town to get the ingredients he needs, and then he has to spend hours preparing and serving the food.

-He watches you eat, encouraging you that everything is safe and that he made it all by himself by hand. 

-He doesn’t question why things ended up this way for you, he wonders how can I help?

-And he does help, a lot, more than just with food.

-Sometimes, late at night, he hears you crying alone in your room. He gets up from his own bed, quietly enters your room, and holds you and grim while you both tremble in fear.

-It makes him so mad. Mad that this happened to you. Mad that Jamil did this in the first place. Mad that he couldn’t help more than he already is. 

-Like Ace, he accompanies you to all your classes and makes sure to stay close to your side if any Scarabia students are around.

-He’ll go anywhere you need him to, and if you’re not comfortable being alone and he’s got plans, you’re invited to join him. No matter what anyone else thinks.

-Things get better little by little. You make strides in your ability to be independent again and you’re smiling and joking around like you used to. You even agreed to try out for the VDC with him and Ace… a big mistake.

-He didn’t expect to actually get in, let alone get in with Jamil and Kalim. If it were just that he could’ve been civil, but no, you had to be dragged in too… because that’s always how it works out.

-He has to hold himself from getting in Jamil’s face more than once because just him looking at you is enough to send you into a clear panic attack.

-Deuce does his best to comfort you between all of this, though. Being your shoulder to cry on and trying his best to be your protector… it's just hard. Hard to see you like that, and hard to keep his cool for your sake.

-It's worse with Kalim because both you and Deuce know he means well. You both know he wants to reconcile, but you’re not quite ready.

-Deuce helps the confrontation with the two feel a bit easier though. He acts as a mediator between you and Kalim, and eventually, he’s proud to say he helped you trust Kalim just a little bit.

-Jamil… both of you could use some work, but Deuce is more willing to hear you out on him than Ace is.

Grim

-Grim was there with you the whole time. He understands the fear you’re feeling deeper than anyone else.

-He could just tell something was wrong the second he saw your face. Despite all the celebrations, he was focused on making sure you were at least a little okay.

-He tried to talk to you, tried to make you feel okay, but the only comfort he could offer you was letting you hold him while you cried.

-He could still hear your cries, and they made him want to cry too. He almost did, but he was your guard cat — he had to be strong for you.

-Unlike Ace and Deuce, he never left your side. Not a second. He was there with you from the moment you were unwittingly kidnapped to the sleepless nights in your dorm to the horror of finding out you’d have to work closely with Jamil for the VDC.

-He made his distaste for him very known, sure to make a snarky comment at least once every time he saw him. 

-It was so bad, at one point, that Vil had to give him a stern talking to. He didn’t stop regardless.

-You are Grim’s best friend, the only family he has, and Jamil hurt you in unspeakable ways. He couldn’t just sit back and be okay with that.

-He’s really such a good guy.

Kalim

-Kalim means well. With his whole heart, he has the best intentions… just not the best execution.

-See, he didn’t notice initially that anything was really wrong the whole time.

-He didn’t suspect Jamil at all. In fact, he thought that you were really enjoying your stay in Scarabia, you seemed so happy and chatty up until Jamil flipped things on their head.

-Call him air-headed, but he was caught up in his own whirlwind of emotions at the time. You know, the whole betrayal of his supposed best friend took a toll on him too.

-It wasn’t until you were sobbing your throat raw that he realized something was really wrong.

-The look of sheer terror on your face when you made eye contact with him sent shivers up his spine.

-He knew that look. He’d worn that look on his own face too many times as a young child.

-Believe it or not, without Jamil’s intervention, he knew to keep his distance. He knew he had to give you time to adjust.

-Then a few days turned into weeks and weeks turned into a little over a month, and he had hardly seen you around campus.

-You are avoiding your normal route to class, and when he did see you he was also greeted by the harsh glares of your good friends.

-He understood if you’d never want to talk to him ever again, honestly. He couldn’t blame you. You were more headstrong than him, after all.

-Still, when the VDC came around… he was hopeful. Truly he was hoping that something would give.

-He would talk to you in hopes of showing you that he meant no harm, but Ace or Deuce or even Grim would shove their way between the two of you.

-Several times Jamil had to tell him to knock it off because “It’s not worth forcing.”

-Still, he wanted you to know he felt bad. He felt horrible.

-In a very un-Kalim-like move, he quietly asks you if you can speak with him. Alone. But in a crowded enough area that you wouldn’t feel threatened.

-He didn’t expect you to accept it, he wouldn’t have blamed you at all. But you said yes. 

-You showed up, with Grim by your side, which was fine. He earned some apologies too.

-He poured his heart out to you, apologizing for things that he couldn’t even control. In turn, he listened to you rant about how scared you were, how angry you were, how you wished you were any of these things.

-And after that, things improved. Slowly, but surely. You became more comfortable around him, and you spoke to him again.

-Sure, you wouldn’t be caught dead at one of Scarabia’s parties, but you considered him a friend. 

-That’s all he could ask for.

Jamil

-Jamil is the monster in your story. 

-He’s the evil guy who kidnapped, manipulated and lied to you.

-He’s the one who used his misplaced anger as an excuse to hurt others.

-He’s the boogyman who made you endure days of long and hard training, just because he could.

-Of course, he felt bad. What he did was unspeakable, but he was more concerned with how his reputation would last after the overblot.

-More concerned with it not getting out for the safety of his family.

-Even with you sobbing, he just thought you were being dramatic in all honesty. You have a reputation already, he knew you’d been through this whole thing before.

-It didn’t really strike him how badly it affected you.

-He didn’t notice how you switched paths, how you were never in the same area as him for long, and the glares of your friends never once phased him.

-Even Ace’s snarky comments during basketball didn’t bother him for a second.

It wasn’t until he accidentally bumped into you in the hallway, and he saw the look on your face that he realized.

-The terror in your eyes, the way you shrunk back as if he would strike you. It was the same way his parents acted around the Asim’s.

-If he were a more insane man, he might’ve found it liberating, but it wasn’t.

-He had become what he hated to you, he had done what he hated to you. 

-Jamil was not only your monster, but he was his own.

-He steers clear of you and keeps as much distance as possible for both your sakes.

-He couldn’t handle someone looking at him like that, and he was sure you couldn’t handle the sight of him after what he did.

-Still, this is NRC, and luck is never on anyone's side here.

-Both of you are forced into a position where you cannot escape the other, you have to learn to live with the awful pits in your stomachs.

-He keeps Kalim away until you both are on good terms, then he simply watches quietly.

-He won’t apologize, he won’t antagonize, he won’t speak unless spoken to.

-You two never truly recover your small lasting friendship, but you do make amends with each other.

-During the trip to the scalding sands, you get to meet Najma, whom he’s confided in about ‘accidentally upsetting a classmate’.

-You get to have a good talk with her, and it makes you really realize some things about Jamil.

-You realize he’s just as broken as you, just as tired as you, and that he feels the most immense amount of guilt for hurting you.

-You, being you, find it in your soul to forgive him.

-Nothing really changes between you. The guilt is still there, and the fear still shakes you to your core, but you both have closure.

-In a situation like this, closure is the best grace a person can ever have.

[crowlyne]

Cant stop thinking about emperor sy au...

Thanks to sy's modern knowledge of historical palace dramas and encyclopedic knowledge of pidw along with him having max stats on luck and charisma he survived the succession war (and somehow becomes an emperor? He is still confused on how he got it. Its not that he cut down his fellow princes nor did he scheme to get the emperor position but hes the only legitimate option left). SY doesnt have any experience on ruling kingdoms however (or anything really) but thankfully SY got an economics degree in his past life so hes not a fish out of the water.

Although the imperial rule doesn't affect the cultivation world directly, they're still impacted in the form of trade and manpower. The power to empower and cripple sects is in his hands. Ever since SY declaring SJ as his long lost brother CQM received a lot of lucrative trade. SQH is appreciative but hello?? He didnt write any long lost family members on SJ! So he got curious and begged the sect leader to send him instead of SJ to meet the emperor for trade discussion, and thats how he met his fellow transmigrator.

SY made him cough up all of his authorial knowledge and found out about OPM and HHP, although its already too late to save SXY as LBH has been born. Needless to say, HHP's coffers are running thin these days. With them having less money their manpower and support from noble families are slowly diminishing, the maintenance and security of the seals fell to disrepair, and SY (in disguise) with SQH's cultivation expertise managed to free TLJ. A few brief expositions later, TLJ and ZZL thanked both of them and slipped back go the demon realm. News of their freedom got out and HHP is scrutinized and support dropped even further than before.

SY did manage to visit QJP regularly to visit his brother and consequently, meeting LBH a number of times (making LBH absolutely smitten with him and considering joining the nonexistent imperial harem). With SJ more assured in his position (also maybe SY's promise of him always having a place in the palace and his family and less people being hostile towards him had an impact) SJ had less frustrations and projections to subject LBH and his students to. He still doesnt like the beast but his stupid brother (an emperor!) doted on him like a favored child so he tried his best to ignore him instead.

Things were going well until the immortal conference where instead of SQH orchestrating the attack, its TLJ and ZZL trying to get a hit on HHP's OPM and dragging LBH back to demon realm kicking and screaming. LBH is presumed dead.

SY found out of course but he didnt know the details (SJ remains tight lipped and insists that hes dead and thats all he should know) and thought LBH fell into the abyss and SJ pushed him like the original plot and grew depressed of thinking of his brother that he grew fond of turn into human stick. Also considering LBH's going to merge the realms and conquer the human kingdoms under one rule he might not have long either, he is, after all, a human male which by the novel's rules itself, a cannon fodder.

Years passed and the demon army, under the demon emperor LBH, conquered other human kingdoms and eventually showed up on SY's kingdom's doorstep but not for the reason SY's thinking of.

SY found himself still alive (!!!) and married (???) with LBH for alliance. CQM stays unmolested and unburned for years to come. SJ, however, remains a sour pickle with this whole arrangement, but at least hes left in peace.

Bonus :

LBH loves to roleplay as a concubine whenever he dropped by SY's palace. When SY visited the demon realm however, LBH loves to show him off that the demons thought of him as a concubine instead (much to SY's embarassment)