An Incel Gamer Who Calls Himself A Nice Guy, Decapitated A 17 Year Old Girl “who Wouldn’t Give Him

This is… so beautiful 🥺❤️

love

#BlackLivesMatter 

This is from 2020, but still relevant.

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*gets an old trauma memory back* sweet. bonus backstory unlocked 

I can’t even begin to describe how good this was.

The slow burn rattled my whole soul. And the smut? Probably the best written as, personally, I usually skip the smut as it feels corny (TO ME!!! DOESNT MEAN ITS BAD).

I feel like I related so much to her too with being restricted and the feeling that, even after you aren’t restricted, you don’t feel as complete as you thought you would. Like it isn’t for you.

I usually don’t write this much but I am super grateful and honored to have read this, and I thank you for writing it. No one said you had to, but you still did and even that deserves praise.

Absolutely loved it.

“NEVER IS A PROMISE” | 12.4k

old man!logan x fem!reader

SUMMARY: You are everything Logan isn’t: sweet, trouble-free, much younger—and, to top it off, Charles' caregiver.

WARNINGS/TAGS: smut - mdni 18+ mentions of drinking, angst, some fluff, old man!logan x caregiver!reader, implied age gap (reader’s in her twenties), miscommunication, slow burn, pining, reader is shorter than logan and has long hair, charles in his cupid era, petnames, minor injuries, wound tending, mentions of blood, virgin!reader, dirty talk, cum shot, fingering, handjobs, oral sex (m receiving), loving sex, sex with a lot of feelings (is that a tag?) unprotected p in v

A/N: i just want to fall in love with him. that’s it. that’s the reason why i wrote this long ass fic 😭 while doing so, i had “never is a promise” by fiona apple and “cool about it” by boygenius on repeat. give them a try if you haven’t listened to them (your lives will be CHANGED) (also, thank you for reading <3)

No matter how often you play chess with Charles, you never manage to beat him. 

“You’ve been staring at that knight for five minutes. It’s not going anywhere, I promise.”

Chuckling at his sarcasm, you fold your hands in your lap, lifting your eyebrows in mock surrender. “Okay, I get it. You’re the master of chess,” leaning back in the chair, you cross one leg over the other. “Can we play something else?”

“I’m quite entertained, thank you,” Charles says, sliding the board closer to you across the table. “Your turn.”

“How is it that you don’t get tired of this game?” you mutter under your breath, eyes fixed on the board as you weigh your options, hovering your hand indecisively over the chess pieces. 

“Please do something before I’m forced to make a dash for the toilet,” he hangs his head, pinching the bridge of his nose—a telltale sign of one of his irritable days.

His words spur you into action, encouraging you to finally slide the knight into position. You glance up, meeting his gaze with a hint of challenge. “You go now.”

Charles doesn’t hesitate, and he moves a bishop. “Check.”

Fuck. You hadn’t seen that coming. “I’d prefer to walk away with my pride,” you joke, pushing your chair back and pretending to lose interest in the board.

That makes him smirk, a barely there grin dangling on the corners of his wrinkled lips. The truth is, you wouldn’t stop playing for anything in the world—not even if this old man kicks your ass every single time he suggests playing chess. “You’re not out of the game yet.”

Quietness settles over the tank while you allow yourself some time to come up with a new strategy. After a moment, you decide to go for a pawn, using it to block his bishop.

He doesn’t stop grinning, studying your move with an amused glint in his blue eyes. “Not bad, but you’ve left your king exposed.”

You gape at the board, your fragile confidence faltering for a split second. "I still have some pieces in play."

Charles nods, his brows drawing together in thoughtful consideration. "True. But sometimes, it’s not about how many pieces you have left—” he reaches out, carefully sliding his queen across the board. "It’s about where you place them,” he relaxes, hunching over, his eyes searching for yours. A smile that’s all teeth welcomes you. “Checkmate."

“Damn,” you blow out your cheeks, your gaze tracing the path of his queen. Somehow, he’s trapped your king with no easy way out.

He leans back with a satisfied grin. "That’s three games in a row. My suggestion is that you start rethinking your strategy."

"Or maybe you’re just a better player,” you admit, a mix of frustration and admiration palpable in your tone. “No more chess for today, though,” you stand up from your seat, gathering the board and chess pieces. As usual, they find their place under Charles’ bed, and you turn back to him, beaming with delight. “I think you owe me one after all this.”

“You’re a terrible loser, my dear,” he ponders, his eyes twinkling as they take you in. “Reminds me of someone I know.”

At that exact moment, you hear the familiar creak of the tank’s door opening, followed by a cough you immediately recognize. Without thinking, you straighten your back as Logan steps into the room. Charles notices, but says nothing in return.

It was an infatuation—or at least, that’s what you try to convince yourself of. Logan is a very good-looking man, probably the most handsome you’ve ever laid eyes on. The fact that you live with him doesn’t help at all. You think that if you only saw him occasionally, this—this anxiety that grips you whenever he’s around or when you hear his voice—wouldn’t happen in the first place.

Whether it’s good or bad luck, you’ve been sleeping under the same roof as him for over a year, and the crush you’ve had since the first time you exchanged words with him only seems to grow stronger with each passing day.

What you figure out over time is that men like Logan aren’t the dating type. He’s never brought anyone home, and for that, you’re secretly grateful. The last thing you need is to see him with another woman—thank you very much. Still, the thought gnaws at you: he could easily be meeting someone elsewhere. In fact, it’s more than likely that he’s hooking up with other people. It doesn’t have to be at—

Alright. You don’t need this either.

Logan’s heavy footsteps resonate even louder, his presence more imposing, and he seems especially pissed off. Then again, he always has that demeanor—angry, grumpy, locked in a constant battle with life. But today… today, you haven’t seen him this troubled in weeks.

“Look who’s joined us,” Charles mumbles, steering his motorized chair to meet him halfway. The chair bumps against Logan’s legs with a thud that sounds almost cartoonish, and Charles scrunches up his nose, his nostrils flaring in disgust. “You smell like shit.”

“Yeah, I missed you too, Pop,” Logan grunts, shoving his hand into the pocket of his suit, searching for something. That’s when you notice the bloodstains on his shirt, smeared across his chest, and the missing buttons at the top. Your breath catches in your throat, and you bite your tongue to keep from asking any foolish questions. “They gave me new ones,” he mutters, looking you in the eye as he tosses the pill bottle at you.

You leap forward to catch it mid-air, your heart skipping a beat. Logan holds your gaze for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before giving a slight nod and turning on his heel to storm out of the tank.

When your attention goes back to Charles, you see how his eyes remain locked on the pills you’re holding, his head lowering in defeat. “He’s waiting for me to die.”

“Don’t say that,” you squat to be at his eye level, momentarily hiding the meds from his view. Still, you struggle to make him shift his gaze. “He’s taking care of you, which is something completely different,” you place your hand on top of his knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You’ve had this same conversation innumerable times, yet each time feels like the first. He offers you a melancholic but knowing look as you softly say: “You have to take them, Charles. I’m sorry.”

He raises a hand, his trembling fingers curling around your wrist, examining you, trying to find an answer in the lines. “Don’t be. At least you’re here.”

“I’m sure Logan’s tired; that’s why he doesn’t stay any longer. Haven’t you seen him?” you rise to your feet, moving behind him to guide his chair. The tank sort of has a chill in the air, metallic walls that seem to press in around you both. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to play chess with him. Rest assured I’ll always let you win,” you murmur next to his ear, succeeding in eliciting a chuckle from him.

After that, you help him with his daily routine. Charles isn’t heavy, and you manage to get him onto the bed, his frail body yielding to your gentle support. You slip the rest of his body beneath the blankets, tucking him in carefully before handing him two pills and a glass of water. “All the way down, okay? And I wanna see that tongue after you swallow them.”

If looks could kill, you’d be six feet under, covered in dust and dirt. Charles sticks his tongue out, putting the glass down on his nightstand. “Happy?”

“You’ve got no idea how much,” you say, adjusting the covers. The silence of the tank surrounds you both, and you can sense his gaze lingering on you. You flick your eyes up, furrowing your brows as you sit in the small space beside him on the mattress. “What is it?”

“You fancy him, don’t you?”

Freezing on the spot, your eyes narrow. “I—I don’t—” you trail off, pushing the words out with some effort. “Are you trying to read my mind?”

His whole chest rumbles with laughter under your touch. He finds your hand once again, intertwining your fingers with his. “Don’t be so naïve. I don’t need my abilities to see the way you get all flustered when he passes by. Why do you think they say older people are wiser?” he inquires, his lips forming a straight line. “We’ve lived too much not to notice the most common things, my dear—and let me tell you that you do a horrible job at pretending.”

“Of course I like him. Logan’s a good man, he keeps us safe,” you glance down at your hands—his, weak and delicate, in evident contrast to your own. “I’m not in love with him, Cupid.”

“Oh, you should’ve seen him years ago,” Charles says, his eyes glazing over as he drifts back into the past. His body remains here, within the confines of the room, but his mind is elsewhere, somewhere far away. You give his hand a gentle tug, trying to bring him back. “When we took him in, he was pursuing a career as a cage fighter. I had never seen anyone like him in all my years of educating mutants. He was so… different from the rest. Reserved, didn’t talk much at first. But I gave him a family, I—” his voice falters, overcome by his own emotions. 

That’s when you realize he’s no longer with you, his gaze unfocused, looking around the tank as if seeing it for the first time. It pains you to see him like this, completely disoriented and disconnected from reality.

“Why are we here? What has happened to the rest? Has he told you anything?”

These are the questions he asks every day without fail—questions that you can’t, nor want, to answer. Since you’re not exactly sure the explanation would soothe his troubled mind, you feel forced to play dumb.

“I don’t know, Charles. We don’t really talk that much, Logan and I,” you stand from the bed, not without pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead before. You smile at him, hoping he doesn’t realize the gesture lacks authenticity. “Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll let you know if I hear anything worth sharing.”

Once you close the door behind you, you settle back into it, releasing a shaky breath. Being Charles’ caregiver was a challenging task, especially in moments like these, which required immense internal strength not to crumble in front of him. You squeeze your eyes shut as you adjust to the harsh sunlight, fighting to regain your composure. When you finally scan the area, the only thing that meets your eye is the deserted smelting plant you now call home.

You open the sliding door, the noise breaking the stillness and forcing Logan to look up from his plate. He’s eating like a starved man, casually drinking from a small bottle of whisky on the table, already half of it gone. After those long drives through the nights and the early hours, he always returns hungry. You pour yourself a cup of coffee, setting it on the stove to heat.

Neither of you says anything for a few minutes: he eats, and you sip your hot coffee in silence, not wishing to disturb the breakable peace that hangs by a thread. Thinking this is how the noon will continue, you begin to walk toward your room until he clears his throat, stopping you in your tracks. That simple gesture makes you whirl around, anticipating something.

“This is delicious,” he acknowledges, pointing to his plate with his fork, the rice with veggies and meat you cooked last night nearly gone. Dipping his chin, he adds in a low voice: “Thank you.”

You’re taken aback by his unexpected willingness to engage in conversation. Moments like these are as rare as seeing Halley’s Comet, so you proceed with caution, as if you’re approaching a skittish animal—one wrong move, and the opportunity is lost.

Setting your mug down on the table, you sit on the chair opposite him. Deep down, the hammering of your heart echoes in your ears, and you hope his sharp senses don’t pick up on it.

“I’m glad you liked it. Charles ate two bowls of it,” you explain, unable to suppress a smile. Logan hums, tilting his head to the side as he keeps devouring his meal. You take another sip of your coffee, blowing on it in a futile attempt to cool it down. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Huh?”

“Charles. He—he asks to see you a lot,” you begin, carefully choosing your words. “I know it’s none of my business, but I think it would make him feel better if you spent more time with him.”

The sound of a distant train rumbles through the walls, amplifying the silence between you. Logan doesn’t utter a word; instead, he puts down his fork, the clinking noise making you jump slightly, the intensity of his stare becoming overwhelming.

“You’re right about one thing—what I do or don’t do is none of your goddamn business.”

Just like that, the buildup dissolves in a matter of seconds. You bite down on the inside of your cheek, nodding absentmindedly. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, feeling a wave of shame wash over you. How stupid were you to think he might want to talk to you?  “I just—I want to be of help.”

“Just take care of Charles. That’s all you gotta worry about, all I’ve ever asked you to do,” he barks, clenching his jaw, and you can tell he means each word.

When he talks to you in this tone, it makes you think more rationally—it reminds you that you don’t really know him, and yet you agreed to work for him in exchange for a roof over your head and food on your plate. He’s not your friend, and he’s excellent at making that crystal clear every time you cross the line.

Logan pushes you away like you’re nothing, like you’re just another of the many burdens he has to deal with.

It should be enough to send you running to your room, but despite the knot tightening in your belly, you somehow remain rooted in place, your eyes sharp like daggers. As another train echoes in the silence, you come to terms with the knowledge that one more question will drive him away.

And sometimes, you speak before you think, as you do now: “Whose blood is that on your shirt?” you ask, voice steady and cold. Perhaps it’s you who wants him to leave this time.

He shakes his head with offense, frustration crinkling his eyes. “I don’t need this shit,” he groans, his gruff voice loud enough for you to hear it. He gets up from the table, placing his plate in the sink without much delicacy. At last, he heads to his room, slamming the door with a deafening thud that reverberates through the entire place.

It’s not a crush, that voice deep inside you insists as you’re left alone in the kitchen. And it’s valid: a mere crush wouldn't cause this kind of pain, wouldn’t make your chest feel this heavy and your limbs numb.

Whenever he leaves, he takes a part of you with him, never to be returned. By now, you’re certain he’s stolen all those missing pieces from you, and you’ve got no idea how much longer you can endure before you shatter completely.

You seem to have won this battle, but what you end up losing is far greater than any fleeting gratification.

Loving Logan is maddening, to say the least.

To this day, you still recall every detail of the night that altered the course of your life—the night you met Logan.

The memories are rather vivid in your mind, and you revisit that moment on nights like these, when you can’t sleep and the past appears to be much more appealing than your present. Pressing your cheek against the cold pillow, you let your eyelids drop, reconstructing the full scene behind your sealed eyes.

It was your third week working at that restaurant, and you were still getting used to its daily rhythm. Waitressing was working wonders for you—you had a good memory, and people often gave you generous tips. Everything was going well: you were the only waitress on shift, and your boss had left for a brief errand, promising he would be back soon.

During this lull, a group of men entered the restaurant, already drunk or high—probably both. They sat at one of the empty tables, immediately calling for you.

One of them, a tall blonde, was the loudest. “Come here, baby,” he pointed his finger at you, gesturing for you to approach him. The nickname felt wrong rolling off his tongue, and as you obliged, he shoved a handful of bills into the front pocket of your apron. He clutched your waist, dragging you nearer. “I’m getting married tomorrow. Think you can do something special for me?”

His friends cheered him on, laughing and pounding their fists on the table. You managed to slip from his grasp and asked them what they wanted to order. While they took their time deciding, you noticed a limousine parked in the distance, probably the vehicle that had brought these morons here. The driver rolled down his window, hanging his arm from the armrest. Though you couldn’t see his features, the interaction alone was enough to make you look away.

An hour went by, and the men refused to take off. They’d eaten, drunk, and danced—and driven you crazy in the process. The rest of the customers had decided to leave once they realized the night was far from finishing for the noisy group of friends. You apologized, feeling incapable of doing anything to change the situation. Your sanity felt threatened as you turned off the TV, ending the sixth round of karaoke, their shouts and hoots ringing in your ears.

“We’re closing in ten minutes,” you informed them, starting to collect their dirty plates and glasses. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the blonde man standing right beside you, his piercing blue eyes burning holes through your skin. He attempted to graze your shoulder, but you quickly stepped back, keeping a safe distance between you. “How do you plan to pay? Cash or credit?”

“How about with a kiss, huh?” he inched forward, his face dangerously close to yours. Unaccustomed to being approached in this manner, you ducked your head, unsure of your next move. His breath reeked of beer and vodka, a horrendous combination that had you nearly gagging on the spot. As he backed you against the counter, one of his large hands cradled your face, urging you to make eye contact with him. “I swear I can be very, very nice. You haven’t given me the chance to show it yet.”

“Hey, pal. You said one hour.”

The first time you heard his voice—low and husky, the kind that could send shivers down your spine. Your eyes locked with Logan’s, your pleading gaze seemingly stirring something in him as he got a grip on the situation. His brows bumped together in a scowl, and you didn’t miss how he limped as he made his way into the restaurant.

There was something about him—how he moved, his stance—that felt strangely familiar.

“We’re busy in here, chauffeur,” the blue-eyed man protested, slightly losing his balance while still holding your cheek.

Your rescuer squared off against him, their noses practically brushing. He worked his jaw, his half-lidded, tired eyes taking in the sight of you. “I’m no fortune-teller, but I don’t think she’s into you, bub.”

“Come again?” the blonde guy released you, much more concerned with defending his bruised pride. “What’s the matter, Grandpa? Is it past your bedtime?”

“I want you to pay me for the ride, and for waiting a fucking hour and a half for you and your friends,” the older man spat, jerking his thumb toward the limousine. “I’m not taking you back to the hotel. You might want to start looking’ for another driver.”

The group of men closed in around him, their anger bubbling. “That’s not cool, dude. We had a deal,” another voice snapped, but Logan couldn’t seem to care less.

“Well, the deal’s off. And leave the girl alone, will you?” he retorted, his tone dripping with disdain. “So, where’s my money?”

He couldn’t have predicted it. One of the men behind him swung a plate, striking him in the nape and catching him off guard. Logan collapsed to the floor, clutching his head in pain. The others took the opportunity and began to pummel him, kicks and punches landing wherever they could.

You screamed at the top of your lungs, desperately trying to intervene. You grabbed at their clothes, digging your fingernails into every patch of exposed skin you could find, but they shoved you aside with brutal force. Your back slammed against the nearest wall, a jolt of sudden pain making you wince.

The blood in your veins turned to ice as you watched, paralyzed with fear that they might kill him. But then—

Three metallic claws emerged from his knuckles, and he used them to push himself upright. Despite the blood smeared across his nose and mouth, he managed to stand, his quickened breathing coming out in short puffs. The men backed away in shock, leaving him alone amidst the chaos. 

You stared at him, your hands trembling as recognition dawned: it was the Wolverine. The familiarity, the sense of having seen him before, all made sense now. It all flooded back in a rush—the comics, the news, the rumors.

“Get the hell outta my sight,” he growled, pressing his claws against the fabric of the blue-eyed man’s jacket, making him flinch.

You couldn’t make out what you were feeling. It wasn’t fear, but intrigue. Even as the group of men fled the restaurant, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. At first, he avoided your gaze, focusing on his shoes as he retracted his claws.

Once the immediate danger had passed, he slumped forward, groaning. You gently draped one of his arms around your shoulders and helped him into a nearby chair. His weight felt like a thousand bricks, but you accomplished to get him seated.

He rubbed a shaky hand over his graying beard, his face twisting in pain as you pressed a makeshift towel of napkins against his lower lip, where blood continued to flow. Taking the towel from you, he continued tending to himself. You scanned his features, scrutinizing him.

“You are…” you began, the words feeling inadequate at the moment.

Logan nodded hesitantly, his silence confirming your suspicion. “Yeah, that’s me,” he tugged at his shirt collar, exposing some of his chest hair, fresh blood staining his work clothes. Your gaze fell there, and you quickly chided yourself. The poor guy was bleeding, and you were checking him out. Jeez.

Kneeling by his side, you introduced yourself. “Thank you for stepping up for me,” you said afterward, and he shook his head dismissively. “They were a pain in the ass. I don’t know how you even managed to drive them here.”

“Money’s money, darlin’. Doesn’t matter where it comes from, as long as—” he was interrupted by a coughing fit, and your concern deepened as you continued to spot more of his injuries. “I’ll heal,” he reassured you, his expression softening in an attempt to calm your anxiety.

Your eyes pierced his with an intensity that seemed to unsettle him. A flush of crimson crept into your cheeks as a question surfaced in your mind: “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“You don’t owe me anything, kid,” he replied, a hint of gruffness in his voice.

“But I could help you,” you persisted, your voice betraying a touch of eagerness. Stifling a cough, you tried to mask your enthusiasm, and sighed. “Are you hungry? I could cook you something, or pour you a drink. We’ve got plenty of liquor—”

Logan interrupted you, placing the towel down on the table. “Have you ever taken care of an old person?” 

Tilting your head, you considered his question. “How old?”

“Ninety-somethin’.”

You nodded, memories of the events from years ago surfacing. “I lived with my grandparents for most of my life. When they fell ill, I spent a lot of time with them. My mom had to work long hours, and I—well, the point is, I did take care of them,” you paused for an instant, his expression unreadable, though you perceived a slight relaxation in his posture, as if your answer had put him at ease. “I like being around old people. They have stories to tell,” you added, a genuine smile breaking through, “and I’m a good listener.”

“Then I suppose there is somethin’ you can help me with.”

And so began a new chapter in your life. The very next day, you were moving in with him and Charles. It took several weeks for the latter to warm up to you and get used to your presence. Initially, he was hopeful that you might also be a mutant, but his disappointment was palpable when he discovered you lacked any supernatural gifts. Leaving that aside, he valued your company.

“The shots mellow the seizures. The pills keep them from happening’,” Logan had once explained, detailing the medications Charles needed. You recalled the psychic attack from a year ago and its consequences, but that wasn’t a topic to be discussed with Logan, and you understood why.

“Where do you get these?” you asked, examining the bottle of pills with a curious glance. “Without a prescription, I mean.”

“Oh, you don’t wanna know.”

Soon, you got adapted to the whole package: his unpredictable temperament, his mood swings, and his nightmares. Logan Howlett was a puzzle box of surprises, one you could never quite unlock.

Fast forward to the present day, you realize it must be already late, because Logan’s heading to work. You stand on your tiptoes, peering out of your bedroom window. Your warm breath fogs the glass as his eyes find yours, and then he slips into the vehicle, blending into the shadows of the night. The distant rumble of his limousine signals his departure, your forehead pressed against the glass, as if somehow that could take you with him.

There goes another piece of you.

You find yourself shaving Charles the moment worry takes over your senses.

He’s retelling a familiar story: that one time Logan, Scott, Jean, and Storm saved Rogue from Magneto. On any other day, you wouldn’t mind listening to his stories, despite having heard them countless times. This one in particular is your favorite. But today, it’s hard to focus on it, even more when one of its main characters is missing in action.

Logan hasn’t come back home yet.

It’s been an entire day, and he’s usually back by morning to rest. Now, after having cooked dinner and helping Charles shower, you’ve run out of distractions. There’s nothing left to occupy your thoughts, nothing to ease the building anxiety gnawing at you.

You texted him multiple times—no answer. You even called—also nothing. Every time Charles asks if Logan’s at work or sleeping, the knot in your chest tightens. That’s when your mind starts to spiral, and you’re convinced you’ll burst any moment.

After putting him to bed, you pace the kitchen, picking at your nails and biting the raw skin around them. The sting of pain is there, but it’s faint, not enough to overshadow the real fear clawing at your insides. All these what-ifs that storm through your mind make you feel nauseous: what if he’s dead? What would you do with Charles? How would you provide for both of you without a salary?

Just as you’re about to dial his number again, Logan materializes out of thin air through the sliding door.

He’s got a dark bruise under his right eye, and his once-white shirt is littered with bloodstains. You stare at him—he’s limping harder than usual, each of his movements slower. Walking towards him, your hands cup his face. His skin feels rough beneath your fingers, and he lets out a grunt as you graze his split lip. “What happened?”

“They were following’ me. Had been doing’ so for a few days now,” he says, making no effort to pull away.

“Did you kill them?“ you wonder out loud, still inspecting his injuries. The pad of your thumb hovers inches away from his bruised mouth.

Covering your hands with his, Logan ducks his head, closing his eyes for a brief second and swallowing thickly. “Somebody had to do it, sweetheart.”

You limit yourself to a nod, because you know there’s nothing you can reproach him for. You were no stranger to the idea of him killing. It was an implicit truth between you.

“I thought—I was so scared, and I—“ your voice wavers, and you feel your eyes watering, the tears prickling at the corners. “I thought you—“

He doesn’t let you finish, already knowing how it would end. “Hey, look at me,” he’s the one touching you now, tilting your chin up. Your eyes keep flickering over the cuts and old scars you spot on his cheeks, his neck. Logan forces a pained smile, unable to hide his discomfort. “It’s fine, I’m alright. Just a bit fucked up, but nothin’ you haven’t seen before,” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood, and it works. You bite your lower lip, suppressing your grin. “I always come back, don’t I?”

“But you can barely stand,” you whisper, not sure why you’re speaking so softly. You make him turn his back to you, helping him shrug off his coat. As expected, remnants of dried blood decorate his shirt like highlights. “Let me help you.” 

“I don’t—“

”There are cuts all over your back. And your chest—you’re not healing properly,” you say, turning him to face you again. The look on his face suggests only one thing: he’s about to throw in the towel. “You don’t have to do everything on your own.” You think you’ve never been this close before, his proximity both intoxicating and comforting at the same time. “Please.”

He ends up giving in to your persuasion, allowing you to guide him to the bathroom. Logan sits down on the toilet, watching you gather supplies to clean his wounds. When you come back, he’s still staring at you, his eyelashes fluttering together each time he blinks. Starting with his cheek, you press a damp towel to his skin, and he hisses. It takes everything in you not to flinch in sympathy.

“How’s Charles?” he asks, probably trying to distract himself as you continue to clean his wounds, the towel darkening with his blood over time. 

“He’s doing great. Asked for you a lot, actually,” you take a look at his jaw, where one shallow cut is already starting to fade away thanks to his healing ability, something that never fails to amaze you.

Logan hums, tilting his head. ”I’ll check on him in the morning,” he murmurs, and you flash him a quick smile, finishing with his face. He’s now free of dirt and blood, his brows furrowing as he pauses to collect his thoughts. “The other day, when we talked—“

You cut him off, turning to the sink as you rinse the towel, watching the water get red. “Forget it.”

“No, it wasn’t okay—how I acted,” he stands up from the toilet, and you feel his presence behind you, the alarm inside your head going off as the space between you shrinks. “I know you just want what’s best for him. For us. I’m sorry I was a jerk,” his voice comes out even huskier at this time of the night, sounding afraid of waking someone, even though it’s just the two of you here.

“Apology accepted,” you swirl around to meet his gaze, only to find yourself nose-to-nose with him, and you lean back against the sink, your spine pressed into the cool surface. Logan places his hands on both sides of the vanity, caging you with his body. Like the most beautiful tree, he stands tall in front of you, and you take a deep breath, getting drunk on his distinctive scent. “Are you… okay?”

You watch as he lowers his head, pursing his lips before muttering: “Imma need you to do something more for me,” he says, almost pleading, and you can’t avoid the amount of thoughts that rush into your mind. Gone was your decency when you had to deal with him.

That’s when he looks up to find your eyes, his harsh expression evolving into a more vulnerable one. “Have you ever removed a bullet?”

If you thought listening to Logan’s nightmares was painful, nothing could have prepared you for the sounds he makes while you pull several bullets from his wounds. 

He sits shirtless in front of you, grunting at each of your careful movements. As you remove one bullet lodged near his ribs, Logan practically yells, and you rest your cheek against his, desperate to ease his suffering. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m almost done,” you whisper into his ear, hoping your words might bring him some relief. He lets his head fall forward, resting it on your shoulder, trusting you enough to tend to his injuries, his thoughts drifting elsewhere.

It takes you half an hour to clean both his chest and back, but Logan doesn’t complain. When you’re finished, he goes straight to his room, flopping onto his bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. You see the way his chest rises and falls rapidly, his breathing still labored. You wish you could lie beside him, even just for a few minutes, but your last shred of self-control stops you from doing such a thing.

“Get some sleep,” you say leaning against the doorframe, your advice sounding more like a plea. He looks exhausted, dark circles sunken beneath his eyes. 

Logan lets out a bitter laugh. “Do I look that bad?”

You roll your eyes at that, your fingers curling around the doorknob. Glancing back at him over your shoulder, you catch something in his look—a glimmer of something you can’t quite put into words, but you decide not to look further into it. “Good night, Logan.”

“Good night, darlin’—and thank you,” he murmurs, holding your gaze until the door shuts between you.

Then you sprint to your room, gently closing the door before biting back a smile, replaying the last hour in your mind. How close to you he had been, how comfortable he seemed around you.

You hadn’t just crossed lines—you’d broken them. You almost pinch yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming. Somehow, your racing mind calms down, and you fall asleep, one hand tucked beneath the pillow, the other resting against your chest.

You’re a light sleeper. The sound of something shattering wakes you, leaving you startled and disoriented. Dawn is just breaking, the first rays of sunlight slipping through your window. You sit up, pricking up your ears as you scratch the back of your head, listening attentively.

Logan’s voice filters into your room—he lets out a string of profanities, and you stifle a giggle, throwing off your covers and putting on a sweatshirt that matches your pajamas.

Barefoot, you walk down the hall, stopping at the kitchen’s entrance. Logan is kneeling beside the table, gathering the shards of a broken mug. It seems like he’s just gotten out of the shower, tiny droplets of water trailing down his neck.

“That was my favorite one,” you say in a low voice, teasing him. His back muscles flex under the material of his shirt, and he turns to look at you, his expression a silent apology. “I take it you’re not using your glasses?”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” rising to his feet, he grunts, digging his fingers into his lower back with a grimace. “They’re called readers for a reason.”

You decide to let him have that one, grabbing a new mug from the shelf and handing it to him. He accepts it, thanking you, and fills it with freshly brewed coffee.

“Was it a nightmare?“ you ask, watching as he sinks into the couch, spreading his thighs apart with a sigh while you take a seat at the table instead.

Logan gives a nod, sipping some of his coffee. “At least I slept for a few hours.” 

“Are you really going to stay up? It’s pretty early,” you stretch your arms over your head, a yawn escaping you before you can hold it back.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

You hesitate for a moment, but then comes your question: “Can I join you?” you prop your elbows on your knees, any trace of sleepiness now gone with the wind.

He squints his eyes, his unrelenting stare boring into you. “Feel free.”

So here you are, studying him as he drinks his coffee, his fingers wrapped tightly around the ceramic. There are so many things you want to ask him—about how he’s feeling, if his wounds have healed—but it seems you’ve entered a silent staring contest without even knowing it.

Not that you mind him looking at you—you just want to know the reason why.

You snort, and he arches a brow. “Do I have something on my face?” you decide to ask him, straightening your back.

“I guess I can’t help but wonder why you agreed to all of this,” he says, setting the mug down with a soft clink. By this, you understand he’s referring to being Charles’ caregiver and leaving your old job behind. “I mean—you could be doing better things with your life. Why would you choose to do this?”

“I told you before: I wanted to help you,” you shrug, trying to keep your tone light even as your stomach tightens with nerves. You watch as Logan folds his arms, the muscles of his biceps becoming more visible. “Plus, I love being around Charles.

“I don’t think people your age would be that interested in spending their days like this,” he says, and you toy with a lock of your hair, wrapping it around your finger.

“Well, good thing I’m not like most people my age then.”

His silence hangs heavy in the air until he speaks again. “What do you mean by that?”

“You know that feeling when life seems like a race? And you just have to keep up with certain things that everybody else is doing, or you’ll be left behind?” you pause, the words falling more naturally than you’d expected. Logan nods, making it seem like he understands what you’re trying to say. Whether he truly does it or not, you don’t know. “When my friends started going to parties, getting boyfriends… I couldn’t. My family wouldn’t let me. And even when I could, it felt like it wasn’t really what I wanted.”

Inhaling sharply, you stop yourself. The conversation suddenly feels far too personal.

“You never had a boyfriend?” he gets more comfortable on the couch, his voice gruff as he rubs his chin, waiting for a reply.

A familiar heat settles between your legs. “I went out with some guys, but it never led to anything serious,” you say, your cheeks getting warmer the more details you share with him. “I guess I wasn’t the kind of girl they were looking for,” you add, not missing the way his lips twitch momentarily.

“How could they not want you?”

“They didn’t think like you do.”

“That’s because they were boys, not men,” he mutters, his gaze dropping to your hands before returning to your face. “Did they treat you right, those boys?”

Swallowing hard, you can hardly register the uncertainty in your own voice. “I mean… yes, I think they did. They were nice to me.”

There it is—the faintest hint of a smirk dancing on his lips. “Nice doesn’t mean good, though.”

You dig your nails onto the table, your pulse quickening, trying to hide how affected you are by his words. “What is it that you want to know?”

“Come sit with me, doll.”

Doll. Doll. Doll. Inside your chest, your heart gallops, your legs trembling as you get off the table, moving closer to him. Feeling lighter with every step you take, you plop down beside him, and Logan sits straighter, his knees almost bumping into yours. You can’t bring yourself to look at him—this is happening, just like in your filthiest dreams.

His hand slides up to yours, not applying any sort of pressure. He scrutinizes your skin, bringing your hand to his lips, and he presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist. It tickles, it burns—it ignites a fire inside you, one you know you can’t ignore. A gasp attempts to escape you, but you suppress it.

“Did you let them touch you?” he whispers, attaching his mouth to your neck, brushing the sensitive spot where your jaw and ear meet.

This time, you moan, any possible rational thoughts turning into putty, melting with the way he’s touching you. “Logan,” you purr his name, begging for something, anything he’s willing to give you. Your thighs, once shoved together, spread of their own accord, and you hear him click his tongue.

“I asked you something,” his teeth graze your pulse point, forcing you to close your eyes.

“I didn’t. They wanted to, but I—I wouldn’t let them,” you answer, and as if he’s rewarding you, his fingers begin to tug on the hem of your sweatshirt, rolling it up your body and over your head. He tosses it to the floor, admiring you.

“Why?”

Goddamn.

“Because I was waiting for the right guy,” you manage to get out, grasping his hand and positioning it on top of your right breast, encouraging him to go on with what he had started. His pupils widen further, and he squeezes your tit roughly, eliciting a moan from you. “I think I’ve found him.”

Logan scans your face, searching for any sign of repentance in your expression. “I’m going to hell for this,” he murmurs under his breath, his hard-on noticeable through his tented sweatpants. “Lay down,” you obey his command, easing yourself onto the couch, and sinking into the cushions as he presses himself to your side. He peppers your neck with kisses, playing with the waistband of your shorts. “I’m not gonna kiss you, but I’ll make you feel good. Just this time, ‘kay? And we don’t talk about it.”

You accept his offer, knowing that you’ll probably regret it in a couple of hours. Right now, it doesn’t matter. You need his electrifying touch, his fingers, his—

With a swift motion, your shorts are yanked down your legs, and his calloused hands part your thighs even wider. A damp spot on your underwear sells you out, and his thumb rubs gentle circles over that area, causing you to lift your hips. “So this is what you look like when you touch yourself, huh?” he edges his fingers closer to your clit, his breath tickling your ear, and he dips his tongue into your collarbone. “I hear you all the fuckin’ time. You’re not as quiet as you think.”

It should embarrass you, the fact that he has listened to you pleasuring yourself. But in a moment like this, it only succeeds in fuelling your desire. “Please. You said you’d make me feel good.”

“And I will, but you’re greedy as hell,” he says, his movements more deliberate now. You feel hot all over as he pulls your panties to the side, exposing your glistening cunt. Logan’s on the verge of drooling over you, reaching for your folds and spreading your wetness. “Men aren’t strong creatures, honey. You’ve got no idea how hard it is to hold back.”

“D-don’t hold back,” you stutter, losing your composure when he returns to your clit, his fingers coated in your arousal while they flick your swollen bud. “Oh, Logan…”

“You make the prettiest sounds,” he rasps, mouthing at your jaw, though as you try to kiss him, he slows his pace. “What’s wrong? Am I not giving you enough?”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” you whisper, fascinated by how big his fingers look in comparison to your pussy. “I’m just—”

“Needy, I know,” he finishes for you, and he picks up his merciless rhythm again. Heat pools in your lower abdomen, and you can’t help but arch your back every time he teases you, grazing your entrance with his middle finger. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

You dig your nails into his arm, relishing the way his body responds to your touch. He grinds his cock against your hip, his teeth nipping at the column of your neck. “I want to come. Please, make me come,” you sob, letting out a shaky breath. A thin sheen of sweat covers your forehead, and Logan locks eyes with you after what feels like an eternity. “Please, Lo.”

The nickname snaps something inside of him. His fingers circle your clit with a fervency you hadn’t experienced before, your pleasure seemingly being his primary focus. “The shit I’d do for you.”

You warn him, telling him you’re close—so so so close—until the fire in your belly flares, and blood rushes to your ears. You collapse against him, holding his hand firmly against your core, hips jerking as you ride your orgasm. The world narrows down to this—this moment, your most desired fantasy.

Logan holds you as you go limp in his arms, rubbing your clit ever so slightly, murmuring soft praises. “Y’did so good, sweetheart,” he whispers, planting a kiss on your temple, burying his nose in your hair. You’re still out of breath, the pulsing between your parted legs persisting long after your release. “Told you you weren’t quiet.”

A giggle bubbles up from your chest, his beard tickling you as he slides his hands up under your shirt, finding your nipples. “It was n-nice,” you tell him, your voice faltering the more he toys with your hardened peaks. Your skin heats up again, heart racing at the thought that he isn’t done with you yet.

“Just nice?” one of his hands makes its way back into your pussy, ghosting his fingers over your hole, and he smirks when he feels you squirm. “You surely know how to hurt a man’s pride.”

“I wasn’t—I didn’t mean to—” you can’t structure a proper sentence, not when he’s playing with you like this. Logan rubs your arousal between his fingers, as though he wants you to see how slick you still are, even after coming. “Are you going to touch me again?”

He hums, feigning uncertainty. “What do you think, baby? Should I make you come with my fingers now?”

It’s like a switch flips in your mind. He knows exactly how to make you beg and which buttons to push, using that power to his advantage. “Yes, please. I want it,” you plead, intending to buck your hips into his touch, impatient for more.

“Do you fuck yourself with your fingers?” 

“Sometimes, but I can never finish—Oh my God,” he slips one finger inside you, causing you to curse, your voice barely above a whisper. You clench around the intrusion, your head falling back onto the cushions. “Fuck me.”

“In a minute,” he begins to thrust his finger in and out, gathering your juices every time he goes back to hammering that sweet spot in your interior. Soon, one finger becomes two, and he reduces you to a panting mess.

Tears threaten to well in your eyes, and you whine as he involves his other hand in the matter, furiously rubbing your clit. “Your fingers feel much better than m-mine, Lo.”

“I can tell,” he curls them just right, and you push back against his thrusts, tilting your pelvis to meet him halfway. “There you go. Take what you need, pretty girl. I’m right here, I’ve got you.”

Everything feels frenzied, fast, the way your inner walls spam and contract around his fingers as you chase your second climax. Once you come down from your high, your blurred vision catches him tugging the waistband of his sweatpants down. His cock springs free, and he fists himself, stroking his length angrily. You watch as some pre-cum dribbles from the head, and you lean forward, watching it closely.

“You look goddamn beautiful when you come, darlin’,” he murmurs through gritted teeth, his jaw clenched tight. Hovering over you, he rucks your shirt up until he can see your tits from above. He alternates between your breasts, squeezing them while he continues to stroke his girth. “Want to see these all dirty.”

Logan truly loses it when your hand reaches out to him, tracing a bulging vein near the head of his cock. You meet his lustful gaze, batting your lashes, and then you feel his come splashing against your bare chest, a choked moan escaping Logan’s throat, spurts of his hot seed landing on your skin.

“Fuckin’ hell… fuck,” he grunts, still tugging at his cock, enamored with the masterpiece he’s created. When it’s finally over, he lies beside you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You run your fingers through his hair, and he nuzzles further into your touch with a groan. “I’m too old for this.”

Minutes pass as both of you seem to grasp the gravity of what has just happened. Eventually, Logan rises to his feet, disappearing for a brief moment before coming back with a towel to wipe his come off your stomach and chest. He’s gentle with you, his gaze trained on his task until his eyes flick up to meet yours. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, pulling your shorts back up.

“Like what?” 

“Like you want to see right through me,” he adjusts your shirt to cover your body again, but the towel remains in his hand, a reminder of the previous events.

I’m not gonna kiss you, but I’ll make you feel good. Just this time, ‘kay? And we don’t talk about it.

You don’t have to talk about it. You definitely don’t. 

Two days later, he’s the one who comes looking for you.

You’re nearly asleep when he knocks on your door. “Come in,” you mumble, a bit of drool having dampened your pillow. You dry your mouth with the back of your hand, your back turned to the door.

He steps into your room cautiously, as if navigating a minefield. The mattress dips under his weight. “Were you sleeping?” he asks, caressing your leg over the covers. 

You shift onto your back, your body responding before your mind. There’s no blood on his clothes—that makes you feel a bit better, and you shake your head.

“Good,” he looms closer, fumbling with his belt. His thumb applies little pressure to your lower lip, and your mouth parts to let him in, salivating.

This is just like Pavlov’s dog experiment—except that Logan isn’t an experimenter, and you aren’t a dog. Yet, when he approaches you like this, you can’t help but respond, settling into a routine where you both take take take from each other.

Logan doesn’t fuck you, even when you beg him to. He gets you off with his fingers, his thigh, his mouth—but his cock remains out of the equation. 

“Just the tip,” you plead, voice laced with pure need, when he’s got his face nestled between your legs. 

As he stops eating you out, his beard shiny with your arousal, he’s still got that angry look on his face. Your cries don’t get to him. “That lie’s older than me,” he slips his fingers back inside you, aiming to make you drop the subject. “Come on, baby. I gotta get ready for work, but you need to come first.”

Nor does he stay the night after telling you you’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen in his life. Just when you think he’s fallen asleep, his legs intertwined with yours and one of his large hands under your head, you drift off.

By the time morning comes, he’s gone. You just know that when night falls, he’ll be back for more, drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

Despite all that, Logan won’t kiss you. He keeps his promise—you hate how determined he is. 

“Not even once?” you ask him one night while going over the scars on his back. You’re in his bed this time, and he has his nose buried in his pillow, moments away from dozing off. 

“No,” he answers, squirming slightly under your touch. “I’m tired. Stop doing that.”

“How did you get this one?” you trace one scar that’s close to his shoulder, resting your chin just inches from it.

He turns his face to see your eyes. “Well, I was doing Pilates, and I—Hey!” he laughs when you pinch the skin near his ribs, tickling him. “I don’t even remember. Must’ve got it a long time ago.”

“Did it hurt?” it’s a dumb question, but he doesn’t mention it.

His index finger grazes your cheek, and he chuckles at the way your eyelids flutter. “In the past, they all did. But not anymore,” he replies, though you wish you could believe him. You know he’s in pain most days. That when he goes down on you, and he’s on his knees for too long, he has trouble standing up without cursing. That no amount of alcohol, or his healing ability, helps him with it.

You kiss each of his scars before curling against his side, brushing your nose against his. “And now?” your eyes fall to his lips, silently hoping he’ll say Yes.

Instead, he sighs. “I think we should go to sleep.”

So despite the lack of kisses, the miscommunication, and the fact that he won’t fuck you even though you know—you feel—he wants to, things are good between you. Charles notices it, openly expressing his recent realization.

“He looks happier, doesn’t he?” the old man says after winning two games of chess in a row, startling you. 

“Logan, you mean?”

“Yes, my dear.”

You glance down at the board, fidgeting with the pieces. “I guess so.”

“You guess so?” he parrots your previous words, raising an eyebrow in doubt. “Look at me,” he says, and as you do it, he points a shaky finger toward your neck. “I assume mosquitos have taken a liking to you.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, your hand flying up to cover the hickey you had completely forgotten about in the first place. “Charles, I’m—“

“Are you happy?” he interrupts you, and you nod, because you are. 

A nagging thought lingers at the back of your mind. You don’t know if you’re asking for too much, but it still feels like something’s missing.

One morning, you accidentally overhear a conversation between them. The door of the tank is ajar, and right before you step inside, you recognize Logan’s voice in the distance.

“Charles, I’m fine, alright? I don’t need your advice.”

There’s a pause before Charles responds. “You know, Logan… this is what life looks like. You should take a moment and feel it. You still have time.”

Logan doesn’t say anything in response to that. And if he does, you don’t stick around long enough find out, because you’re already turning on your heel.

A poet once said: “Blowjobs are fucking amazing.”

Actually, you might be wrong. Those may not have been a poet’s words, but your best friend Keira’s from high school. You remember the sleepovers at her place—she had a boyfriend at the time, a boy she had met at a party you hadn’t been invited to. 

“Welcome to blowjobs 101,” she had declared one night, holding a hairbrush like a microphone. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll tell you everything you need to know when the moment comes.”

Luckily, many years later, that moment arrived.

Just ten minutes ago, you were cooking dinner, sniffling back tears while chopping onions, so lost in thought that you didn’t realize Logan was already home. He tossed his keys onto the table, hugging you from behind seconds later. You leaned back against his chest, enjoying the scratch of his beard against your sensitive skin, his lips planting soft kisses wherever they could.

“How was work?” you dropped the knife, wiping your tears as you turned to face him, throwing your arms around his neck. Logan pulled you in tighter by the waist, giving your ass a firm squeeze.

“Hell, as usual,” he looked into your eyes, finding them all glossy. “You miss me so much you started crying?”

Of course, you didn’t talk about it—but words aren’t the only ones who can convey meaning.

You’re not sure how, but one thing led to another, and now you’re on your knees, Logan’s cock filling your mouth. Your lips, swollen and red, suck hard at his tip, pulling the foreskin back, and his hips jerk deeper into your throat. “That’s it, fuck. Doin’ so good.”

Your movements are far from graceful. As a matter of fact, it’s all too sloppy and desperate. Saliva drips down your chin, some of it coating his balls, and you fondle them at the same time you bob your head. Keira’s advice plays on repeat in your mind, and you pull out every trick you know to make Logan roll his eyes.

So far, you think you’re doing pretty great, judging by the way he’s gripping the back of your head.

“H-how is this your first time suckin’ cock?” he slurs, more to himself, his voice strangled as you make eye contact with him. He brushes your hair out of your face, bewitched by the sight of him disappearing into your wet mouth. “God, I fuckin’ love you.”

Taken aback by his sudden confession. you involuntarily gag around him. He pulls you off his cock, not even sparing you a glance, tucking himself back into his briefs. “Wait, Logan—”

“Not now,” he mutters abruptly, withdrawing into his bedroom and shutting the door behind him.

God, I fuckin’ love you.

God, I fuckin’ love you.

God, I fuckin’ love you.

But still, he doesn’t want to talk about it.

How bad is it to tell somebody you love them and then avoid them?

Yeah, it’s absolutely terrible, right? Tell that to the idiot himself—Logan Howlett.

It’s been over a week, and no matter how many times you press him for an explanation, he keeps dodging it.

Things go back to how they were before you two started fooling around, and Charles’ questions don’t take long to come: “I thought you two were getting somewhere.”

“Me too,” you admit, your voice quieter as you try to appear indifferent. You have no answer for him. Not that you don’t want to discuss your relationship problems—it’s just that you don’t know what went wrong.

When evading you isn’t enough, he works longer hours, which only adds to how little you see him. At least he lets you know if he’s going to be late, sparing you from waiting up. But apart from that, your interactions have dwindled to nothing, and it’s eating you alive.

You’re madly in love with him. You thought you knew that already, but now that he’s distant, the depth of your feelings has become clearer than ever. He’s everywhere you go, just not physically—he has conquered your mind.

And it should be funny, loving someone who used to be no more than a myth for you. Though Logan is real—maybe too real for your own good—and he hasn’t been the mutant you once read about for quite some time.

This morning, he’s having breakfast at the table when you walk into the kitchen. You hold your breath as your shoulders brush for a microsecond, his gaze following your steps. You’re no longer accustomed to sharing the same space with him, so it makes sense that you stay as far away as possible.

After an awkward silence, he stands up and mutters something about checking on Charles and giving him his meds, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

It’s infuriating, how collected he seems. Why isn’t he miserable like you? Doesn’t he miss you? Didn’t you two have something… special?

I’m not gonna kiss you, but I’ll make you feel good. Just this time, ‘kay? And we don’t talk about it.

The shit I’d for you.

God, I fuckin’ love you.

Not now.

The memory of his words lingers, seared into your unconscious, though the sound of his phone jolts you out of your thoughts. It’s ringing beside the coffee machine, and you try to ignore it, determined to be the bigger person.

But after five minutes of the relentless ringtone echoing in the empty kitchen, you’ve had enough.

Unknown caller—interesting. What could he possibly be hiding?

Charles, you better keep that asshole busy, you think to yourself, swiping right to answer the call.

Before you can say anything, a woman’s voice fills the line.

“James! Thank God. It’s Gillian. You didn’t reply to any of my texts, and I was starting to get worried,” she lets out a giggle, the sound grating against your nerves.

As your grip on the phone tightens, your knuckles start to go white.

“Look, I know you said you weren’t available, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that ride. I didn’t see any ring on your finger, so what do you say, huh? Will you let me take you out?”

Red. You’re seeing red.

“James? Hello? Cat got your tongue?”

At last, you clear your throat. “Hey,” you greet her, pacing around the kitchen. “I’m deeply sorry, but James can’t talk right now.”

“Excuse me?” she snaps, her high-pitched voice echoing through the speakers, and you pull the device away from your ear. “This is James’ number. Who the fuck are you?”

“Oh, I’ll tell you who the fuck I am, you intolerant piece of—” before you can finish, the phone is yanked out of your hand, the call hastily ending.

There is no use in playing dumb, not when Logan’s standing right in front of you, observing you like you’re a child who’s made a severe mistake. His deep, brown eyes pierce your soul, shattering any chance you had of coming up with an excuse.

“What where you doing with my phone?” it’s the first thing he asks you, his voice still steady, the calm before the storm. Perhaps you’re not as mature as you thought you were—your forehead furrows, unwilling to back down, and you fall silent. He takes a step forward, as if he can’t believe your attitude. “Think I asked you something. Why did you answer?”

“Gillian sounds like a lovely lady. Tell her I said ‘hi’ the next time you see her,” you croak, attempting to walk past him, but he doesn’t budge, his solid frame blocking your path. You collide with his chest, and it feels like trying to move a brick wall without success.

“We’re talking. You can’t just leave.”

The nerve of this man.

“You can’t be serious,” you retort, staring at him, wishing the emotion in your tone could capture even a fraction of what you’re truly feeling. “Weren’t you the one who walked away first? After telling me you loved me?” you search for any sign of the man who once held you close, but he feels miles away, hidden under all these layers that smell like cheap whiskey and gasoline. “You didn’t mean it.”

“I did. I meant every word,” he growls, his fists clenching at his sides, and you don’t miss the exhaustion in his eyes, the dark circles that expose the fragile façade of control he’s so desperate to maintain. “Goddamit! You’re doing that thing again!”

“What thing?” you exclaim, your mouth hanging open in frustration. “What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes, you are! You’re trying to see through me, like you can read my mind.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint, but I’m not a fucking mutant. I just have eyes, Logan,” you throw your arms up, exasperated. “People actually look at each other when they have a conversation, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“You’re testing my patience,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face.

“And you are testing mine,” you rest your back against the table, raising your chin. “So, who is she?”

Logan drops his shoulders, slamming his eyes shut. “I drove her once, last week. It was a long ride and she… wouldn’t stop talking. Didn’t shut up for a single second. She hit on me, but I told her I’m off the market.”

“Why? ‘Cause she talked too much?”

“No. Because I love you,” he says, pure awe transforming his expression, like he doesn’t believe he has said it out loud. “I don’t know when I started feeling like this, or if I’ve always felt it, but—I do. I love you.”

Oh.

You had heard those words slip through his lips before, but now they sound different. It might be that keeping him at arm's length has felt like death by a thousand cuts, or perhaps it’s the realization that this is the first time someone’s declaring their love for you.

Fuck. He loves you. As in, he’s in love with you?

“Then why do you keep running?” you edge closer to him, your eyes trained on his. “I’m done with the chase, Logan. It’s tiring—I am tired. I’ve been sleeping like shit, trying to figure out what—”

His arms surrounding your body, cutting you off and pulling you close. The hammering of his heart matches yours, and you return the hug, nuzzling your nose against his neck.

You fear that this might be all you’ve ever needed, feeling as if the pieces he took from you in the past are finally falling back into place. Logan holds you as if in a past life he lost you, but now, he’s decided to never let you go.

This profound sense of completeness, of being where you’re meant to be, makes you realize you’ve found home in the warmth of his embrace.

“I’m sorry. This… this scares me, alright?” he murmurs next to your ear, raking his fingers through your hair. “You make me feel things I didn’t think I could feel anymore. That’s what I’m running from—the part of me I thought was gone. But you… you brought it back.”

You feel a deep urge to curl up and cry, wondering why on earth he would ever think he was unworthy of being cared for. “Logan, I…”

“I sound pathetic, I know. It sounded way better in my head.”

“Don’t you dare say that,” you retreat a bit, looking him in the eye. He stares down at you with a tenderness you’ve never seen before. “It’s not pathetic to voice how you feel. I want to know it all, want to know everything about you.”

“Everything?”

“Yes, everything. But I need you to promise me that you won’t run away anymore. I know it’s difficult, but it’s not fair to any of us.”

His eyes peer directly into yours, and he gives a nod. “I promise to do my best,” he presses your foreheads together, and that’s when his mouth turns into a grin. “You’re not going to say it back?” he teases, gripping your waist. “Come on, I said it first. Twice, for the record.”

Lifting your shoulders in a half-shrug, you find it hard to conceal your smile. “I may need a bit more convincing.”

Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.

Before you know it, his lips are on yours, almost making you lose your balance. You whimper into his mouth, tightening your arms around his neck as his tongue wastes no time in finding yours, stroking it sensually. The wait had been definitely worth it—you’d do everything all over again if it meant having him kiss you like this at the end of the day.

He tilts your face so that he can deepen the kiss, and a whine gets caught in your throat when his fingers pull gently at the hair at your nape, nibbling at your bottom lip. 

“I love you, too. Very much, to be honest,” you blurt out against his mouth, pleased with the way he laughs at your reaction, squeezing your hips. “But I still have some ideas in mind.”

“I’m all ears.”

Here goes nothing. “Fuck me like I’ve been asking you to,” you cup his cheeks, guiding his lips into yours one more time. “Please,” you mewl, standing on your tiptoes. “Want you to be my first.”

If it were up to you, you would’ve begged him to take you right there on the kitchen floor. But Logan, ever the gentleman, insists on moving things to his room. Each of his movements is slow, igniting your skin with a burning heat, leaving his name imprinted where his teeth sink into your soft flesh.

You’re left in nothing but your underwear by the time he murmurs: “Let me take my time with you,” trailing his lips down your chest, your stomach, until he’s planting several kisses along your ankle. “I don’t know how I got so lucky, baby. Look at you.”

Under his gaze, you feel shy, your eyes snapping to the ceiling instead. “Shut up,” you say, tugging at his shirt to undress him, your fingers tracing the lines of his abdomen before you pull him into a bruising kiss, sucking on his tongue.

He strips out of his black slacks and hovers over you, his clothed cock grinding against your throbbing core, eliciting a moan from both of you. “So goddamn beautiful. Can’t believe you’re mine,” his tip grazes your entrance through the fabric, making your toes curl in ectasy. “I’m gonna make you feel good, I swear.”

At first, he’s extremely careful, making sure to stretch you out with his fingers while you stroke him, pumping your fist to match his rhythm. “Keep that up and this’ll be over sooner than expected,” he warns, taking one of your nipples into his mouth.

It doesn’t happen like it does in the books or movies. No foreplay could’ve prepared you for the moment he enters you. You move clumsily beneath him, your nose bumping into his forehead as he eases the first inch of his length inside.

For a moment, you’re not certain which hurts most: the dull ache in your nose or the way he’s splitting you open. 

Logan freezes, his eyes wide in concern. “Shit. I’m sorry, sweetheart. Are you okay?” His hand cradles your face as he props himself up on one forearm, pushing your hair back while you adjust to his size. You laugh despite the sting, and he wipes away your tears with his thumb. “You’re laughing?”

“I’m just happy,” you manage to get through the lump in your throat, raking your nails down his back, feeling the rough texture of the scars beneath your fingers. “I love you. Since that day at the bar, I—” you pause for a second, gasping at the sudden wave of pleasure when he twitches inside you. “I’ll always l-love you. Forever.”

As you wrap your legs around his waist and tell him you’re ready, something inside him shifts. He feels like a madman, his eyes fixed on your face the whole time, searching for any hint of discomfort, though he occasionally glances down at the place where your bodies meet and become one, entranced by the sight of you taking him in, slick coating his length. 

Your heels dig into his lower back, pulling him back to the present—back to you, with your pretty tits bouncing each time he pistols his hips, the intensity of his thrusts increasing.

“All those times you took care of me, when you—Fuck,” he groans, nipping at your jaw to regain some of his composure, his humid breath dampening your skin. Your scent drives him wild, and he reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “You made me feel loved when no one else did. My girl, love you so f-fucking much.”

His pace is nothing more than a voiceless testament to everything he feels but can’t find words to express.

With each minute that passes, your dripping cunt grips him tighter and tighter, his thrusts losing finesse. He needs you to come first—why does he feel like a virgin?

When you tell him you’re close, the world around him turns into a musical. You cling to the sheets, the mattress creaking noisily as he clutches the headboard, determined to find that angle that will push you over the edge. “That’s it, sing for me,” Logan mutters from above, hypnotized by the crease forming between your brows. “Come on, let go.”

Time seems to slow down as your muscles tense and you clamp around him, your body sagging against him. His name spills from your lips in breathy whimpers, like an endless prayer, and your mouth engulfs his, tongues and teeth clashing in a fevered kiss.

Soon after that, he surrenders to the coiling tension deep within him, pulling out just in time to stroke himself once, twice, before emptying his hot load across your mound. You gently thumb the head of his cock, coaxing out every last drop of his hot seed. He’s panting as he comes down from his high, his brain foggy and blissfully blank for a while. 

Logan loses track of how many times he tells you he loves you—he does it when he pulls you into his chest, when his lips press against your temple, and when you crack that smile, the one that resembles the very purpose of his existence.

“So this is what it feels like,” his voice sounds low like a murmur near your ear, and you stir, half-asleep.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, baby. I was just thinking aloud.”

You don’t have to talk about it, at least not now. Deep down, he knows that whatever thoughts run through his mind will somehow find their way into yours.

This is what life looks like. You should take a moment and feel it. You still have time.

And God, is he feeling it.

dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

You can only reblog this on Nov 16 2023💥

HOW DARE U WRITE A MASTERPIECE 😭❤️

“do not give away your sweet words so easily for i am willing to tear down the stars and the sky for you.” OH GTFO 😭🤚

The lady of Volantis | 1k celebration

Summary: Based on a request; You have been betrothed to Jacaerys for years now and you two have never exactly been close. He does not expect to see you anytime soon after your first couple meetings, but when Lucerys trial is happening you are suddenly in the keep. What are you doing there? Are you to be trusted?

w.c: 22.3k (i know... crazy right)

c.w: i will not include any bc they would include major spoilers for this fic,, all ill say is this includes things about Volantis culture, an alternative timeline, inaccurate westerios history, COLD READER and smut (a fair share of it). nothing too dark bc that's just not my style but be warned.

Jacaerys has been betrothed for years now. He has only seen the mysterious lady of volantis a couple times now. When her father answered lord corlys call for help with the stepstones with the terms that corlys offer them something in return. They knew they had nothing that could be even close in value to the mighty powers of volantis but in a desperate effort they offer him, Prince Jacaerys velaryon, heir to the heir. They expect volantis to say no, what good would having good relations with Westeros do, they have control of the largest trades and market in the world.

After no response for a good while they expect them to just have disregarded the letter and have given up. But when one day over 20 sea ships show up the flags of volantis on them and a young girl trails behind her father who introduces himself as the man they were writing to they were over the moon. They had only really got to meet the girl one time before she went off to join the effort in stepstones though she did pop by a few times they were few and far between. Her father had warned them his daughter was a bit cold. He gave no reason as to why she was the way she was other than that was just how she was raised to be.

Jacaerys attempted to play nice with his betrothed but due to her cold, off putting personality nothing truly came from it. Instead all she would do was stand and watch him, barely saying more than a few words to him. Every time was the same routine, she would come and leave, leaving jacaerys to worry for the future. He is well aware most marriages don’t contain any love, but he had atleast hoped the two of them could be friends but it seemed like the lady of Volantis wanted nothing to do with him. He had not expected to see her for many years in the future, For their marriage arrangement is not meant to take place until after rhaenyra ascends the throne.

“it is an honor to see you.” The girl nods, still an ever blank look on her face as she grips a square wooden box in her hand. The queen glances at rhaenyra and daemon who manage to hide their shock at seeing the girl in the keep. “It is a nice surprise to see you again y/n.” Another acknowledging nod is the only thing the younger women does before thrusting her hands that were holding the wooden box towards the queen. Alicent looks at it in shock and hesitantly reaches her hands out and grabs in from her. “A gift.”

Shaky hands slide open the box and a light gasp follows suit. A completely custom cyvasse set sets inside the box, alicents hand reach inside and pick up one of the pieces, the dragon, and brings it closer to her face to admire it. “Hand carved and painted.” She looks back towards the younger girl. Her heart warmed at the gesture. Nobody had gotten her a gift so nice, ever. “This is so lovely.” “I had heard you enjoyed to play.” A small real smile graces alicents face as she lightly nods, “Do you enjoy to play?” “You are asking if a citizen of Volantis enjoys playing cyvasse.”

It was not a question, as volantis was the origin place of cyvasse it should be no question she a member of one of the royal families of volantis would play. Embarrassment fills alicent and she places the piece back in the box swiftly, closing it up and turning away placing it on a table. “Of course my apologizes i have no clue what i was thinking.” She maybe expects some sly comment from the girl or maybe no response at all, maybe her scoffing or tsking but instead when she looks back over she sees the girl bring her head towards the ground and twist her foot as if she was squishing a bug. “I was jesting…”

A simple ahh is all that can escape alicents mouth as she looks away bashfully. She hadn't expected her to be so, kind? maybe that was not the right word and it certainly did not fit the look of the warrior that stood in front of her. Laced in black leather covering even up to her neck down to the soles of her feet. The only color added from the silver chains wrapped around her legs attached to the belt loops on her waist, a sword at her hip so close to her hands she could whip it out in mere seconds, her boots look so heavy like she could squish someone’s skull should she want to.

"ziry iksos unexpected naejot ūndegon ao.” (it is unexpected to see you) A voice cuts through the rooms now awkward air and Alicent just watched as the girls head rises and she's back to standing sharply and coldly as she was mere moments ago. "Skoros issi ao doing kesīr hāedar?” (what are you doing here girl?)

“Iksos ziry pirta hen issa naejot māzigon.” (is it wrong of me to come.) Alicent, though she had no clue what they we’re saying, had never seen someone speak and look at the rouge prince so bravely. If any man we’re in her place they certainly would not even be looking him in the eyes but you do not look at him with fear, if anything you just look at him with annoyance straightening your shoulders and you fold your hands behind you back.

“Skorkydoso gōntan ao gīmigon naejot māzigon?” (how did you know to come?) rhaenyra by his side pinches his torso and tries to shoot him a look but his gaze is locked onto you. All the girl does is shrug and turns her attention back to alicent. Daemon is not dumb. He knows this is all timed too well, arriving to the keep the exact day they arrived here. She must have begun her trip way before they had even received word of the trial. He stares daggers into her but she does not look back towards him, rolling her her neck as alicent attempted to come up with something to say.

“I believe i should attend to some things.” With a bow of her head and a goodbye she grabs the box from the table and before she opens the door she turns back to the younger girl, “We should play.” She does not expect a response from the girl, so when you nods a delighted look graces her face before she turns and leaves. Right as the door closes her face falls as she's greeted by a squire who was sent by her father to grab her, most likely interested in speaking about the volantene girl.

The three stand in silence for a bit. Daemons gaze has no let up and rhaenyra readjusts awkwardly. Despite the fact that she does not wish for him to question her so she has her own curiosities. “I hope you faired well on your trip, you must have been traveling for a long time.” The implications of her words are clear, if the volantene girl is annoyed she does not show it on her face instead she merely blinks a nods. “It was well.” “We have not heard from you since last year, we are merely surprised to see you now of all times.” “i was on my way to visit dragonstone, heard talks of you all traveling here. i came here instead.” You say nothing that is not necessary, no sweet talk no sugar coating just exactly what you are asking no more. Its a believable story if it is to be true, but daemon is still clearly restless. “And what would bring you to dragonstone?”

“I was planned to return back to the fight but i heard what happened to lord corlys, wanted to make a stop at dragonstone before driftmark.” Despite your young age you were more than useful to the effort. You and corlys had even formed a bond, you grew to care for the man and when you left the field for personal affairs you were horrified to hear of his condition. “Have you spoken to rhaenys?” “i am yet to see her.”

Suddenly a guard comes into the room and looks at daemon and rhaenyra. “the king is ready to see you.” The two stand and say their goodbyes to you before they leave. Out in the hallway they discuss to themselves. “Gaomagon ao pendagon issa…?” (Do you think she is..?) Daemon does not look to rhaenyra instead keeping his gaze forward, eyes glazed in though as he clenches his jaw. “daor.” (no) She would not come for no reason. The girl he knew would immediately return back to the battlefield after hearing of corlys absence. It is rather strange for her to instead make the trip here instead.

In another room sits alicent, otto and Vaemond discussing tomorrows trial. “It does not matter if the next heir to driftmark is indebted to us. Not when Rhaenyra's first born son is about to marry into the most powerful family in all of Essos.” Ottos voice cuts Vaemond off quickly. “There is something that can be done.” The two of them look at alicent, “She holds a distain for them i can see it, there is no question. Maybe she can be convinced to,” she trails off looking away, “depart from the betrothal?” “If there was a greater thing she could be offer, im more than sure she would agree.”

“It is a bad idea.” Otto cuts, “If your theory is wrong then you could put all of us at risk.” He shakes his head, “I do not approve.” “I believe it is worth a shot.” Vaemond adds looking to alicent, “She is a tigress, she is easily swayed. They are all the same they wish for war, it is the reason why she is out on the field with my brother. She has no conquest anymore in Volantis.” Vaemond leans forward on the table and looks alicent directly in the eyes, “If there is to be a war. You will not win it with her on their side.”

The sun had finally begun to set but there was no rest for the dark haired prince who stood in the keep library, a maester on the other side of the table watching the young prince struggle to recite the valyrian. “Rūsīr māzigon kustikāne se…” (with hardships come strength and…) He bites his thumb and taps his foot as he thinks. He is sure he remembers the phrase, jacaerys mentally berates himself for being so stupid. He is to be the future king, the heir of the heir, how can he let himself be so careless with his studies. “kivio.” (promise)

The voice behind him causes him to turn around in shock.“syt konīr iksis daor drēje mijegon.” (for there is no true struggle without triumph) Soon enough you are standing in front of him and he gulps. He cannot believe you are here, not expecting to see you for many years from now. He puts a smile on his face all be it a weak one as you just stare at him. “gaomagon ao lo mazeman toliot?” (do you mind if i take over) You address the maester behind him who looks between the two of you nervously before nodding and leaving the room.

The two of you just stare at one another in silence for a bit. He takes this time to admire you, you have not changed much since the last time he saw you. It had been at least a year now since you've visited dragonstone and when he got to see you. Even when you did meet you certainly never met this close anyways he takes this time to admire you fully.

The blemishes on your face, if he looks towards your covered neck he can even see a scar the fades under the fabric, he's curious about it, how did you get it? Did it hurt? When did you get it? He wishes he could ask, too fearful of your reply. He cannot mess this arrangement up. It matters too much to not only his family, but to the safety of the realm and the safety of his mothers claim to the throne. No one would dare mess with the power of volantis and the free cities, he would never be able to forgive himself if he messed up what his family worked so hard to get. Especially since it seemed like you did not care for him much.

“You are still a toddler.” You are the one to break the silent are between them. He flushes with embarrassment and takes a step back, hitting the table lightly. “You’ve merely caught me at a bad moment.” You raise your eyebrows at him, a challenging look. He knows you do not believe him, “You lie to me.” He scratches the back of his neck, You're right. “I would never, my betrothed.” He is embarrassed and he hopes by playing the engagement card you will leave, as you seemingly have no interest in it, so he can wallow in his own humiliation alone. She just stares at him while he cracks a smile at her. He wants them to be civil, for her to atleast like him, he fears that won’t be the case. He sees how happy his mother and daemon are and he feels a pit of dread in his stomach, he wants a life like that. He knows it is rare for marriages in his life to be happy ones but he wants it.

Instead of leaving you simply stare at him for a moment longer, he notices a change in your eyes if it was for a split second before you round the table and eye the book on the table. “it is because you are trying to learn from that stupid book.” “It is a book of the Targaryen history.” She picks up the book and sharply closes it before he can stop stop her, his hand lift hanging in the air as she tosses the book away. “Exactly. Stupid book.” He opens and closes his mouth in an attempt to come up with a retort but he can’t say anything before you speak once more. “lets roleplay.”

If anyone saw you right now they would feel as though they were seeing a stranger. If he were to ask anyone else they would say they’ve never heard you speak as much as you were or even the look on your face, though it does not look too different from your normal one, was an unfamiliar one. He raises his eyebrows at you, “what?” “the best way to learn anything is to practice.” “which is why i was reading from the book.” “The book is nonsense. you will learn nothing from it.” “It is how my mother was taught and my ancestors before me.” “Then they are stupid.” He groans in frustration and looks at her with a blank face. “You do not learn swordsmanship from reading you do not learn how to stitch from reading you learn from real experience.” He cannot say you are wrong.

As he says nothing you continue, “Lets say i am a jewelry shop keeper, and you are a traveler visiting my shop interested in buying something.” she presses her hands against the table and tilts her head at him. “sȳz?” (good?) a chill runs down his spine as she stares at him and a warm feeling fills his stomach. He is so screwed, but he just nods.

“rytsas skorkydoso glaesā tubī?” (hello welcome how are you today?)

“Iksan sȳrī kirimvose” (I am well thank you)

“iksis konīr mirros iksā jurnegēre syt?” (is there something you are looking for?)

You watch him struggle for a moment, unsure if he is trying to decipher your words or if he is trying to figure out what to say. He is shocked you are so patient, simply staring and watching him, not pushing him to answer.

“iā rudhy syt ñuha aderī naejot sagon ābrazȳrys.” (a present for my soon to be wife)

He watches your face change for a split second to one of shock then back down to neutral. With his confidence he takes a moment to admire your gloved hands, covered with rings over the leather. He imagines them running down his chest, running through his hair, maybe gripping on it as he pleasures you in ways hes only ever read about, maybe even wrapped around his-

You snap in his face and his head lifts back to look at you alarmed but your just looking at him blankly. “umbagon lēda nyke.” (stay with me) He would. He will. For as long as you asked him too. You sigh and roll your neck he watches the scar as it shows more of itself before disappearing once more. He shakes his head, he needs to snap out of it, he was being foolish getting lost in his thoughts, and especially since his thoughts were so,,, deplorable. He is thankful you cannot read minds as you would surely slap him across the face and never speak to him again if you knew he was thinking so terribly.

“gaomagon emā mirros qantre jaelā?” (do you have something specific you want?)

you.

“Nyke jaelagon nyke gōntan yn eman daor skoros ziry would hae.” (i wish i did but i have no clue what she would like)

She pauses for a moment and stares at him with narrow eyes. When he says nothing other than shrug she rolls her eyes, turning her head away.

“ābrar hae mirros” (women like anything)

“jaelan naejot jiōragon mirros ziry jorrāelagon” (i want to get something she would love)

“ivestragon nyke nūmāzma zirȳla pār.” (tell me about her then)

“gaoman daor gīmigon olvie yn nyke gīmigon issa kostōba se pazavor, se rovaja run naejot nyke iksis bona issa biare.” (i do not know much but i know she is strong and loyal, the biggest thing to me is that she is happy)

The air between them gets hot and he cant decipher the look in her eyes as she stares at him. He fears he’s upset her. The way her eyes and face remain unmoving or maybe he said the words wrong and she’s misinterpreting what he meant. His eyes stay locked on hers as she trails around the table to be standing right next to him once more. he opens his mouth to apologize but she begins to speak before he can say a word. “gaomagon daor tepagon qrīdrughagon aōha dōna udra sīr easily syt naejot qūvy ilagon se qēlossās se se jēdar syt ao”

His eyes crinkle and she has a content look on her face, seemingly happy he has no clue what she is saying to him. “what did you say?” Its eating at him. unlike when he hears his parents speak he does not mind much when he doesn’t know what they're talking about. even when lucerys is doing better in practice than him he does not mind it much though he grows annoyed at himself. But with you, he needs to know what you’re saying. He is latched onto your every word your every move. It makes himself sick to think about the fact he’s missed something you’ve said with the limited words you ever say. He’s shocked you’ve even talked to him this much today.

She just shakes her head and takes a few steps back. Her stoic nature has returned and she's back to not even looking at him. “It is getting late. You should have dinner.” He looks out the window and is shocked to see the had set and it had begun to rain outside. When did the sun even set? We’re they truly here for so long? He turned back to question her but she was already gone and the book placed back in front of him. The only reason he knows she was ever even here is the faint smell of her perfume in the air. Like a ghost she had up and left. Maybe she was a ghost, or merely a figment of his imagination to toy with him. He takes a couple deep breaths until the lingering smell of her is gone before he picks back up the book and leaves.

He clutches the book tightly to his chest to suppress the pounding of his heart and the ache that begins to bleed through his skin. He tries to mumble what she said to himself to try and figure out what you meant. Hes able to catch a few words, stars and the sky but he cant make sense of it all. he clenches his jaw in frustration as he returns to his chambers, placing the book down on his table and gripping the sides of it with his hands. This must be a challenge from her. She’s clearly toying with him. Maybe she did truly dislike him. But then why would she help him today? or can you even call it help? she didn’t exactly teach him anything. he grows irritated at the thought that his afternoon was wasted but then he realizes something. He had no clue he himself could even say or understand any of those words until she proved to him that he could.

Before he can even dwell on it he’s being called for dinner. On his way there he wonders if you’ll join them. His hopes are crushed when he walks in the room and you aren’t there. Greeting his parents quickly before greeting baela for the first time, the two share a friendly hug before sitting. “Did you know lady y/n is here jacaerys?” He almost gets whiplash from the way his head whips up to look at daemon. “yes i got the chance to see her earlier.” He hopes he does not seem too quick with his response. He takes a sip of his wine as daemon taps his fingers on the table in thought. He can never tell what daemon is thinking, though he doubts even his mother can tell what he’s thinking. “i am yet to meet her i am looking forward to it.” Baela turns to jacaerys, “Do you like her?”

Now this question really makes him pause. He has no clue. He is sure he does, in some way, but he barely knows her. Maybe that does not matter, especially in their political situation. It is purely a political marriage he does not need to like her. But he does, maybe it stems from him not wanting to disappoint his mother but he likes her, he wants things to work with her. but a man who is simply doing this just to keep his mother happy would not write her letters while she was out fighting even when he would not receive a response, he would not be overthinking what gifts to give her because sure he could go out and get her the most expensive gem in the world or the most finest silk but she is not the type of lady to like that type of stuff and this man would be imagining her underneath him withering with pleasure. Well, maybe they are but not a man like him.

“She is pleasant.”

The raging storm outside leads most of the hallways empty as people try to remain dry. but solely in one hallway sits a girl sitting with her thighs clenched tightly to keep the torch she has lit ablaze steady as her hands cup in a prayer. Its dead quiet expect for the storm outside and the quiet mutters leaving her lips, until footsteps walk down the hall and the spot next to her grows warm with a body sitting there.

“Lord of Light, shine your face upon us.” the person next to you says nothing as you continue in your prayer. “Light your flame among us, R'hllor. Show us the truth or falseness of this man. Strike him down if he is guilty, and give strength to his sword if he is true. Lord of Light, give us wisdom.” “For the night is dark and full of terrors” the person next to you finishes. A long looming silence hangs in the air as you do not dare move your position. “Are you going to say anything?”

“I thought you were praying.” You finally look up at the women besides you who gives you a curious look. “Is it impolite that i i finished it for you?” “No it is preferred, lady rhaenys.” “have you always been a follower of the lord of light?” “I have been visiting the temple of the lord of light before i could even walk, it would be strange if i were not.” She hums and simply stares at the storm. “it is rather cold, do you not fear of getting sick?”

“i have been through worse weather at stepstones.” There are a few more beats of silence, it is so quiet you are even convinced for a moment she will not say anything else but she begins to speak after awhile. “What would my husband think of all this?” You turn to rhaenys and tilt your head. Rhaenys laughs and shakes her head, “You are the first person i am speaking to that has had a close direct contact with my husband for the last couple years, i wish to know what you think he would say.” You do not say anything for a long moment, your gaze being stuck on the flames still sat in your lap. “I think he would say you are all absurd for thinking he is going to die from this.” Rhaenys snorts but says nothing as she waits for your next words. “But he would not want his brother to succeed him.” It is not as though she is shocked to hear the answer. Especially when it was something she already knew herself.

“why do you think so?” She wants to know why, no she needs to. Just to clear her head maybe, give her some justice in her choice, rhaenyra's offer about marrying rhaena to lucerys still looming over her head. “because his brother is a fool.” She has no clue whether they are his words or hers but it does matter much as in a funny way she seems content with the answer. or maybe she was already content with her choice and needed the extra push.

She watches as the girl stares into the flames aimlessly. “can you see things in them?” “that is the priestess job not mine. Though i can see flashes. i am no were near skilled enough to make anything of it.” “it is a shocker to hear you admit you are not skilled enough at something.” “I am honest.” she nods though you don’t look in her direction. “What do you see?” “Myself mostly. sometimes he is with me.” “who?” There is no answer from the girl which causses rhaenys to sit up straight. “Jacaerys?” A light hum is the only answer she is given but it is all she needs before she lets out a surprised scoff. “i thought you hated the man.” You rip your gaze away form the flames and look at her with a confused look. “i hate him?” “that’s what everyone says dear.” rhaenys looks at her.

“Do you not hate him?” she looks away and stares back into the flames, her face now solemn and she watches the flame slowly wither away to nothing. No more words are said between the two of them but they don’t need to be as rhaenys gets up. “i bid you goodnight.” Even if you wanted to reply you are not given the opportunity to as she quickly turns away from you and leaves. You are once again left alone but this time you cannot distract yourself with prayers. You lean your head back against the cold wall behind you, hoping to let your mind be flooded with mindless water like the grounds are outside.

You cannot fail this. For there is far too much at risk. The words of the priestesses ring in your ears. This is too important. the gnawing feeling in your chest grows as you think of him. Failure is not an option. As much as you wish you could sit and wallow here for the night in your thoughts there are still things you must get done. Still people you must talk to. Maybe you should go to sleep earlier for tomorrow will make or break everything. But you know thats not an option. You get up for the first time in two hours and head towards the opposite direction of your room, for there is something you must do first.

Dinner has finally ended and jacaerys is more then eager to go to his room and take a nice hot bath before he goes to bed but he is instead walking lucerys to his room who looks like he’s gonna throw up. “I am nervous.” Jacaerys sighs and grabs his shoulders making lucerys look straight at him. “It shall be fine brother. Mother will take care of it.” Lucerys looks at the floor, “So i am making it difficult for her.” “No. family is about taking care of one another. It may be tough but it is worth it. because we are family.” Lucerys take a deep breath and opens his mouth as though he wishes to say something but he simply shakes his head before whispering a goodnight and closing his door.

Jacaerys lets out a shudder and closes his eyes for a moment. He feels bad he cannot do more for lucerys. He cannot truly reassure him everything will be alright because in his mind and how his parents talk of the hightowers he is convinced tomorrow will not work on in their favor. He stands in his spot for far too long, His mind far away from his body, He does not know what will happen and that scares him. What does happen if driftmark is taken from lucerys? What happens to his mothers claim? He feels as though this is his fault though the more rational side of him tells him this was something completely out of his hands.

He knows what he is. it is no secret. He knew. But there is nothing he can do about it. He must live with it. It does not matter what anyone else thinks. He runs his now sweaty hands down the front of his tunic before turning and walking away from lucerys room. He cannot stress about this now or else he will not be able to sleep. He is not paying attention in front of him so when hands press on his chest to prevent him from moving he gasps and takes a step back. “My lady.” He feels like he’s imagining you. Maybe he thought about you a bit too much he’s starting to see things. You just blankly stare at with your eyebrow raised. His stress must be showing on his face. he sighs and runs his hands down his face. “I apologize i was lost in thought.”

He had thought you were waiting around for him to apologize to you. “you should not be upset. what is it now.” He grows irradiated. His face turns anger and his blood begins to boil. You were mocking him. it is the way you say it, the monotone voice you hold makes his skin itch. The cherry on top is the fact that you roll your eyes. His jaw clenches and begins to speak through his teeth. “i am sorry i am not allowed to be upset my lady. I know you hold your own anguishes against me but please save it for another day. Goodnight.”

He swiftly moves around you and does not look back as he storms off to his room. He cannot believe himself. Deluding himself into thinking the two of you could even be civil. You don’t like him. That much is clear to him now. He does not notice the fact that you have not moved a single step. There is no noise in the hallway it is as if you are not even breathing. For the first time all day you truly let you face fall. Fingers twitching at you side as if you wished to reach your hand out and grab him but he is already to far away. You have messed it up. of course.

You don’t know how long you’re standing there until a hand touches your shoulder and you turn your head. “Are you alright?” You immediately straighten back up and no one would have even known you we’re frowning before now that your face has been set back to neutral. “I am alright my queen.” “Are you lost?” No. “Yes. I seemingly have lost my way.” She offers to walk you and you finally fully get a good look at her. She is in her nightdress and you eye the box you had given her earlier in her hands. She notices your gaze and perks up. “ah in truth i had actually head to your room to look for you. It is late but, are you up for a game?”

Jacaerys attempts to contain his anger as he asks for the coldest bath he can have that night. They do not question him as they see him furiously unbutton and tear at his clothes. He does not even hiss as he enters the tub. His blood still boiling hot and the cold bath does nothing to soothe him. “You are dismissed.” “But my prince-” “I am capable of cleaning myself.” The servant bows before stating he will leave his night clothes on his bed before he swiftly leaves. For the first time today he is alone with his thoughts for the first time today. he leans down and submerges himself low enough in the water until his nose is just barely above the water.

He is sure the water is warming up quickly because of how hot his skin is right now. He does not even know why he is so annoyed. He does not know you. You do not know him. Maybe he is annoyed at himself for attempting to put in an effort that is not going anyway, maybe it is due to the fact that he is going to be stuck with you for the rest of his life. He doesn’t know. Maybe he is annoyed that he is so enthralled by you. Were you always so inconsiderate? He should have known, gods you never even answered his letters or even so much as tried to speak to him before today.

The stress of lucerys trial and his annoyance with you all builds and all he can feel is a pure ache. Throbbing and aching and throbbing. Fuck when did he get hard? He stares down at his errection with furrowed brows. His hot blood boiled until it all spilled down to his cock he guessed. He throws his head back in anger. Maybe he should just ignore it. He should call a servant in and ask him to throw as much ice as he can possibly take into the tub.

Or maybe he just needs a good stress relief. He is a man and tomorrow will certain be a tough day and he will be overthinking. Maybe he just need to get it out now? He sits all the way up and eyes his throbbing dick angerly. He rarely does this. His sex drive is not high enough where he gets hard everyday but every once and awhile a guy has to relieve himself. He leans his head back to lay against the edge of the tub and closes his eyes. hands sliding down his chest before they settle on his balls. He lets out a sigh of relief as he fondles them lightly in his hands, his thumb rubbing circles on the sensitive skin.

Suddenly the smell of a familiar perfume fills the air. His movements do not halt but his pleasure is increased when it begins to feel like a second set of hands lay over his, adding harder pleasure to his thumbs. He lets out a couple puffs of air and its almost as if he can feel the another hot breath drifting onto his face. His eyes flutter open slowly and he sees you. Staring at him how you were in the library and he whines, “please… y/n.” As if he is high on your smell he feels as though his hands are being guided by yours, they slide from the base of his dick to the tip causing him to curse and clench his jaw as his thumbs are instead pressed against his tip, rubbing in small circles.

He presses his lips together tightly to stop himself from letting out a loud moan. He wants to bring one of his hands up to his mouth to silence himself but it feels like their stuck where they are. Your hands holding his down tightly. “Jacaerys.” He can hear you, smell you, feel you. Its as if your hands have switched and he can feel the harsh leather your hands are covered with. “Please y/n i cant take it please.” Finally sliding down from his tip and down back to the base, it slides back up slowly, her pointer finger is tracing along one of the veins, this continues like a slow painful torture until each and every single vein has been drawn and pressed against the skin, Jacaerys does not know how loud he is, with every groan, hiccup, mumble and moan he can’t even be worried he’s getting louder and is instead completely and utterly consumed by you.

“y/n do not tease me please, please.” The hands suddenly begin to move faster and he throws his head so far back its basically outside the tub. His cock so painfully sensitive from the teasing he feels like he might burst any moment. But he needs something else, something more. Suddenly it's like he can feel your ghost lips kissing along his jaw, slowly working towards his ear, giving it a long lick and he shudders, “Jace.” He cannot take it, his balls begin to ache and he can feel an overwhelming pressure build in his stomach. “I need you y/n” Suddenly a long lick on his collarbone is what has him shaking and moaning out your name while white webs flood into the now very very very dirty bath water.

The only sounds that can be heard now are the light swaying of water and his deep heaving breaths. After many moments he finally lifts his head and slowly opens his eyes, blinking slowly he sees no one in front of him. Of course it was not real. he lifts up his hands and feels how his arms and hands ache from how long he was working himself and there is no smell of you in the room. For a moment he is disappointed until clarity hits him and he's suddenly very quickly standing up, well as best as he can his legs begin to rapidly shake and he hisses as his dick is met with the cold air of the room severely overstimulated.

What had he done? It was a one time thing. It was merely his mind running amok. Yes that's it. He dries himself quickly and attempts to suppress down any thoughts he has. All of them. all he wants to do is slip into bed and fall asleep, acting like today never happened. If he was lucky she wouldn’t be at the trial. Maybe she would head to stepstones tomorrow and they would go back to being strangers until they must marry. Maybe she would die in the war, he ignores how much his chest aches at that, and they would never see each other ever again. He just wants to rid of himself of all his thoughts. He tosses and turns in bed, sleep alludes him, or maybe its his own fears that once he falls asleep he’ll dream of you.

The library you reside in is cold, devoid of all light other than the two candles lighting up the board in front of you and the occasional light from lightning striking outside. “It is rare i meet someone who is good competition.” Alicent is enjoying herself. a small smile on her face as she places down another piece. Aemond is always far too busy to play, Aegon obviously won’t play with her and helaena has no clue how to play. She watches you closely but you face is unmoving, leaning far back into your seat with you arms crossed in your lap all you do is dart your eyes around to look at the board.

When you say nothing in return she is not surprised and says nothing more until you move a piece on the board. “I’d like to ask you about something.” she twists one of the pieces in her hands, eyes flying back between the board and to you. You make no noise or even so much as look up at her like she takes this as her queue to continue. “What are your thoughts on your betrothal?” Though it only happens for a split second she catches it, You tense.

She believes she is right. You are unhappy with your betrothal. She watches as you stare at your dragon on the board, lifting on of your hands to twist it to face you. “It is a fine match.” She hums and nods, “agreed.” Though for the first time you look at her and raise your eyebrows at her. you know there's something more to this. She feels a chill run down her spine as you don’t take your eyes off her while she's moving another one of her pieces on the board. “I hope this does not offend you, however i am truly just curious, is there anything keeping you in this engagement?”

Your gaze does not waver nor do you move to move one of your pieces and she begins to pick at her nails, a pit forming in her stomach. “I do not understand.” “It is simply curiosity. and if you would stay, if there was no longer any political benefit?” Your gaze does not stray as you pick up a piece and place it on the board. “No more political benefit?” You trail off for a moment, she expects you to say there would be no point then or maybe something along those lines. “What political benefit is there for me now?” Alicent freezes and looks at you confused, “What?” You shrug and fiddle around with some of your pieces on the board. “Am i supposed to be getting something out of it?”

All alicent can do this blink. What did you mean? Were you trying to mock her? What did you mean what benefit were you getting? “Your future husband is to be king one day….” She watches as you scratch your jaw and move one of your pieces. “Ahh,,,,, I guess you’re right.” She looks down at the board, she sees the clear path in front of her and tries to suppress her smile, maybe you were not as good at this as she had though, purposefully taking longer to continue to speak to you.

“It would be better if a marriage had benefits i suppose, so no?” Alicent picks up one of her pieces and places it down. Maybe this is her opportunity, there is a small voice in the back of her head telling her this was a bad idea, it was her fathers voice, but she must try no matter what he says. She could be in danger or even worse children could be in danger.

She knows how dangerous and cruel the people of Volantis are. If there truly is to be a war if she does not gain her as an ally they are doomed. and worse they would be fighting against her family, so the punishment and pain she would inflict would be far worse. It would be treason.

“So, would you consider another option, should you be presented one?” She sees the look on your face and panics a bit but manages to remain calm, “Purely hypothetical of course.” “Like what?” “Say if i told you my son aemond remains unmarried.” “A second son compared to a future king? A ridiculous proposition.” For someone who just seemed to have no interest in the political side of things your attitude sure has changed.

“but what if he was not just a second son, but the prince regent to the king” You just blink. you would be blind to not get what she was referring. she fears you will confront her, ask her what she means by her implications, but she is good to remember you are not that type of person. “a prince regent is still not a king.”

“but what if your first daughter would be promised to the next king, your line on the throne after you.” more blinking. She doesn't know what you’re thinking, your face as blank as it always it. “simply just something to think about of course. If tomorrows trial goes well, maybe there could be something.” She begins to sweat under your blank stare. Maybe her father was right, this was a bad idea. You are going to declare war on her and her family for treason. But you say nothing at all for a good while. She decided against opening her mouth again in fear of ruining it more than she already has.

But you make do not open your mouth to speak, instead you just push yourself to stand up and her heart drops but you just place one of your pieces before snatching her dragon and placing it on her side of the board. “I shall think about it. Goodnight.” She simply watches as you leave the room before looking at the board in shock.

you had won.

He’s kissing you. All over your hot skin. Occasionally leaving a trail of his own saliva when he stays in one sport too long. He makes sure to keep his ear right next to your mouth to hear every little whimper and moan you let out. His hands running up and down your sides, you were wearing a red silk dress, a night gown if he had to guess. but he has no room in his mind to think about it as he slides his hands under your dress kneading your ass with his hands and uses his knees to push open your legs to slot himself between you, lifting up your dress to expose you, you weren’t wearing anything underneath it. His lips are surely going to be sore with the force he’s kissing you.

The two of your hips thrusting each others with fever even through his clothed pants he can feel your wetness soak his trousers and onto his hard cock. His lips leave yours and they begin to suck down your jaw to your neck. His hands sliding up to your breasts, his thumbs brushing against your nipples, feeling as they harden against his skin.

“my prince.” He ignores this at first. continuing his assault on your skin and the rhythm of your hips getting faster. “my prince.” but the voice gets louder and louder and louder until-

“my prince!”

Jacaerys eyes open and he shoots up. He is breathing heavy as if he just ran all the way from the north to dorne. He runs his hands down his face and he looks at his hands with disgust as he feels the amount of sweat.

fuck.

“my prince.”

“What is it?” He is basically snarling. He is furious he was woken up. He can feel his cock throbbing under the blanket as if he was on the brink of climax. The servant shakes at the dragon princes hard glare. “It is morning my prince, we must get you ready for morning fast.” His head whips to look at the window. The sky bright blue contrasting the stormy weather it had been last night. as if the storm had to happen last night for the sky to be blue. He runs his hands down his face and apologizes, “I'm so sorry, i had a bad dream.” the servant merrily nods with a grateful smile on his face before he begins to help jacaerys get ready for the day.

Jacaerys cock throbs under the cold water. “my prince if you need a few moments alone-” “I do not.” he spits out. He certainly cannot do what he did last night. As much as his hands itch to touch himself he knows he would only be greeted with images of you. He cannot allow that. The servant says nothing more for the rest of the morning, his hardness dies down a little through out his routine but he knows once he is alone his mind will begin to race once more.

So he is more than thankful you are not there when he joins his family. Though his mother mentions she had tried to invite you but apparently you were no where to be seen. Seemingly not having gone back to your room last night. He wishes he was relieved, that he were happy you were gone from him and he could not have to see you for a while. but he is not. He must be so annoyed about it even Joffrey asked him why he had such a sour face.

They all assume you have gone to stepstones, not believing you would be interested in staying for the trial. He says nothing in return. A thought pops up into his head. Maybe he had upset you, he had lost his temper with you last night, maybe that is why you had left. He tries not to dwell on it but a pit grows in his stomach, he does not wish to think about you any longer.

He does not expect you to be there. He had thought you left just like the rest of his family. But as his family was being led into the room he sees you already leaning against the wall near where his family was standing. He could see the way the people were looking and whispering about you. This must be the first time for many people in this room seeing her before, even seeing someone from Essos before. You do not seem to care as he expected. He can’t take his eyes off you. Instead of your black leather outfit you were wearing a completely grey leather outfit still paired with your large boots and silver chains. You have a dagger in your hands fiddling around with it not taking your eyes off of it.

He does not like you he is certain of it but then why can he not remove his gaze from you? why does he wish to go over to you and compliment you though he knows your response will be something like a nod? Has he ever even complimented you? He can’t remember. Maybe he wrote something in one of his letters. But why does it matter why should he complement you if you do not even care. Maybe he should do the right thing and go greet you despite his grievances.

Your gaze suddenly lifts and you're looking in his direction so he swiftly turns away to glance at lucerys who look's more nervous than ever. He wishes he could offer lucerys any sort of comfort but he has no clue what to say. It is certainly not because he is using all his willpower to not look at you. He can feel your stare, your burning gaze staring into the side of his face. He does not allow himself to look. he only does when he sees otto sit down on the throne and it is almost as if you were not just looking at him. backing to fiddling with you dagger, was it really your gaze he felt on him? He has no time to truly dwell on it, not when Vaemond begins to speak.

The trial begins without a hitch. Jacaerys find himself growing more and more irritated as the trial goes on. Vaemond’s voice and the backhanded insults Vaemond is insinuating about his mother anger him beyond belief. Daemon places his hand on jacaerys back to attempt to keep the young boy at bay. Daemon looks over at you and sees you spaced out, as if you were not even listening to the trial at hand., neither really was he if he was being truthful, he knew this trial would work on in his favor, whether he would have to pull out drastic measures or not.

“Why don’t we get the lady Maegyr’s opinion?” Daemon chuckles as he watches your head raise and look to Vaemond with your blank stare. “You are sure to know better than anyone else about my brothers wishes.” Every head in the room is turned to look at you now.

Alicent feels herself praying in her mind. You must take their side, they can’t risk you having aligned yourself with the blacks. She glances at otto who looks to her for a beat, she does not miss the awaiting look on his face. She knows he will be furious with her should you not side with them, she looks at you hopeful, praying to the seven, praying to the father the mother anyone who would listen to her.

Jacaerys watches as you push yourself off the wall and walk towards where Vaemond is standing, stopping for a moment to glance at jacaerys. He does not turn away this time, allowing himself to look at you. He is desperate, he worries as he knows your distain for him he fears that will transfer over to your feelings on this whole affair. He has a look of desperation as your gaze does not leave him, please he finds himself begging in his mind. You must defend them, his mother, his brother. Him. His fists clench at his sides and your gaze drops to look at them before you look back up one more time and walk away.

Standing in front of the throne the room is dead quiet, every person in the room eager to here what you have to say, anticipating it.

“I think this whole ordeal is ridiculous.” You stop to glance at alicent who looks at you with wide eyes, you can see her picking at the skin on her nails. You look back at Vaemond and sigh. “worst of all i think you are nothing than a power hunger pig who cares not of his brother nor his family but only of himself.” There's a couple gasps around the room and Vaemond opens his mouth to speak but you are quicker. Daemon feels rhaenyra let out a sigh of relief and places a hand over her chest.

“Dare i ask why you do not campaign for Baela to take driftmark? by westerios succession rules she would be next in line after him if you do truly disregard corlys’ true blooded named heir Lucerys Velaryon. For you are nothing but an old rotting man no kids, no wife yet you believe you are best choice for driftmark? yet not baela who has spent the last couple years of her life on driftmark under her grandmothers wing who, as of right now, is the proper ruler of driftmark and is more suited than you, a lone man who is closer to his own death day than he is to ever sitting on the driftmark seat.”

Vaemond's face turns to anger, his eye twitches at your words and he takes a step closer to you, his voice louder than before, “You dare speak to me like this?” “You say that as if you are someone to be reconned with. I am supposed to fear a second son you dare insult me, maybe that is the reason you remain unwed, for no one wishes to lay with a second son.” Alicent feels her heart drop to her stomach. It does not help that she feels Aegon chuckling at her words next to him. She does not dare look at her father, for she fears his reaction more than anything.

“How dare you?” “How dare i? how dare you? you dare put into question the legitimacy of the princess and even worse the legitimacy of her children. Ser laenor claimed those children as his who are we to question such an act. You? A weak old man who is so bitter and resentful he must campaign in a room full of more ignorant fools who believe this should even be a question in the first place. You should be hung for treason.”

Vaemond finds his body shaking with anger at the girls in front of him with her ever so calm demeaner, her words cold and calculated like she knew exactly what she was going to say before he had even called on her. He cannot control himself. “You are a lying deceitful monster who believes she is so righteous and strong. Yet i find it hard to believe there is a fate worse than marrying someone of his blood-” “You will hold your tongue!” The room which had begun to be filled with whispers and small chatter ceases completely at the girls outburst. Her face having a look that no one has ever seen from her. Anger. Vaemond takes a step back as if her voice had thrown him back. Everyone else in the room finds themself frozen in fear.

“You dare forget yourself i am first lady Y/n Maegyr of House Maegyr, one of the three triarchs of Volantis i am not someone who is below you, i am not some family member of yours, you will not dare speak another nasty word about him or i shall watch your blood pool on the ground by my blade.” Without another words you swiftly turn your back to him and make your way back to the pillar you were once leaning against, not sparing anyone else a glance and sliding down it to be sitting on the floor with a bored look. You do not pull out your dagger nor do you look to speak with anyone else, simply all you do is stare out into space.

Before anyone else can say a single word the king is announced and he is shockingly walking in. Jacaerys can't find himself to care much however. You are the only thing on his mind. You defended not only his mother but him. You did not get angry when Vaemond insulted your own honor but his. He attempts to will away his blood that begins to pump down south. Maybe you had just done it to keep up appearances, it would be wrong if you did not defend your betrothed.

Suddenly he is rushed with guilt. He had been so cruel to you last night, maybe it had been deserved but he should not have spoken to you like that. He will have to make it up to you somehow. An idea pops up in his head. He is so distracted he does not even flinch when daemon slices off Vaemond’s head, instead turning his head in your direction to see how you react. You don’t, as expected and you do not move even as the trial is called to an end. He finds himself moving without thinking.

You look up once you notice a shadow close around your vision and see him staring down at you, offering you his hand. You eye it for a moment before grabbing onto it and he helps you up. He watches as you use your free hand to dust off your pants briefly before looking back at him. “Thank you.” He wasn’t expecting you to say anything and merely nods, he feels as though the roles are reversed, he should be the one speaking not the one silent. You make no move to let go of his hand and he does not let go either. He does not want to let go. “Are you free this afternoon?”

He watches as you look at him wide eyed, he gives you a small smile, maybe he could use this as a way to apologize. But he watches as you look down at the floor and let go of his hand. “I find myself,,,,,” You trail off with an unsure look on your face, “preoccupied with other things this afternoon until the dinner tonight.” He takes this as a clear rejection and takes a step back. Maybe you truly did what you had done for your own benefit and he finds himself annoyed at himself. You probably were not even busy, you were probably just not interested in seeing him. “of course you are. Good day then.”

You are once again forced to watch him simply just walk away from you as you have once again messed things up and merrily sigh as you watch him walk off. As much as you would like to spend the afternoon with him you have other things you must do. Things you cannot afford to miss. He will understand. But as you walk around out you begin to think about the words he had said to you last night. ‘I know you hold your own anguishes against me’ or even when rhaenys had asked you if you hated him, has you crinkling your eyes. What had they meant by that? You let out a sigh and continue walking through the streets with your hood up, You have things to do, people to meet, you will dwell on this later.

Dinner time has finally arrived and everyone had gotten into their seats, even viserys had been escorted into the room but one chair remained empty. Your chair. “The lady is no where to be found my queen.” Alicent sighs in defeat, had you left? It did not make sense. Maybe you are heading home to plan an attack on her and her family. No. She should not think so irrationally now. “If she shows up escort her here.” The guard nods before moving to leave the room. “Should we pray?”

“She cannot stand your presence so much she is missing dinner.” Aegon whispers in jacaerys direction before being shushed by his mother who begins to pray. Jacaerys has never been religious so he has no reason to pray. Are you truly missing dinner because of him? He begins to feel sick. Jacaerys had definitely not spend his whole afternoon thinking of you even when he was walking in the garden with baela or when he had found out lucerys was to be married to rhaena. It got him thinking of his own engagement. He has been trying his best to figure out what he was going to say the next time you spoke, maybe he should stop trying completely. Today was a slip up in his judgement, he should have listened to his head and not thought with his cock like Aegon.

He will not speak to you unless necessary.

That entire plan lasted all of five seconds because as soon as alicent was done with her prayer the doors to the room opened and his jaw fell to the floor. You stood in a floor length sleeved in the color of house velaryon. It had a long slit down your front down to your waist where it connected to another slit down your leg. the dress covered in detailed designs of flowers. Your hair was done, full of pins and topped with a golden clip which made it look like the sun was shining behind you. he could see the scar that was was usually hidden behind your very covered up look clearly now. it ran completely down your chest and stopped around your stomach where there was a bigger scar.

You were gorgeous. No gorgeous is not enough. you looked radiant, glorious, his vocabulary is not large enough to describe the goddess standing in front of him. He may not be religious but he believes you to be the closest thing to the maiden. A goddess that has flown down from the heavens to grace this earth.

You awkwardly readjust your dress as everyone in the room gawks at you. “I apologize for being late. This dinner clashed with my prayers.” There is a couple beats of silence before anyone says anything. “It is my fault, i should have taken your faith into account when i set this dinner up.” Otto is the first and only one to break the silence and is given a nod before you make your way towards the table.

Jacaerys quick to stand, you look at him in shock as you sit he pushes in your chair for you before sitting back down himself.

Shortly after all the food is being brought out and the chatter at the table begins. “you look beautiful. That dress is stunning, where ever did you get it?” rhaenyra is the first to speak to you, he watches as you reach your hands and readjust the slit on your dress. You are not wearing your gloves. “I had it made in a tailor shop in the city last night, i had gone to go pick it up this afternoon.” He cannot take his eyes off your hands, still covered in rings. He can see black marks peaking through your wrists but mostly hidden under your sleeves. He wants to see them. He wants to see you.

“A dress like that made so quickly? That is quite impressive.” “It is easy to have stuff done quickly when you are presented with enough coin.” more mindless chatter flows around you all. There is an awkward energy in the air but no one dares acknowledge it. Jacaerys feels terrible. You had been busy this afternoon. And he had been so rude about it. His terrible temper and sensitive feelings continue to sway him in the wrong direction.

He wants to speak to you. But he feels as though he will just screw it up once more.

“Lady Maegyr, you had mentioned you are a triarchs of Volantis, is it normal for two members of the same family to rule at the same time?” You pick at the food on your plate, “My father was not re-elected lord hand.” “That must have not gone over well with him.”

You glance up for a moment at daemon before you look down at your plate. “He was furious. So furious in fact he demanded a recount, then another recount. When that didn't work he attempted to bribe them. When that didn't work he tried to kill me. Both the other triarchs were re-elected, He had thought it was ridiculous i was elected. i had not spent a single second or coin to campaign” “but you traveled out there recently no? was that not to campaign?” “it had been to help my father campaign. Seems like it did not matter. The people wanted me to sit on the throne.”

“Do you know why?” It takes you a moment to answer but it is clear to daemon who chuckles to himself. “You are to be a Targaryen.” You hum, taking a large gulp out of your wine glass. “Every single old blood dreams of being even close to the great legacy of house Targaryen. They simply are trying to flatter me.”

There is no room to acknowledge the tension in the room. The adults more interested in learning about you, throwing questions at you left and right. Its a good thing, there's no room for in fighting between the family and you serve as the perfect distraction. “What happened to your father then?” “He had fallen off a cliff. Such a tragedy.” You do not mean that, you seem far too pleased for it to be merely an accident. “That is horrible.” You simply nod, and watch as a maid fills up your wine glass for the fourth time.

“Is your mother around?” “My mother died soon after giving birth to my brother.” Alicent places her hand on her chest, “I am so sorry.” You shrug, continuing to sip on your drink. “I was born with my twin brother, they had not expected her to live anyways.” “Twins are tough.” It is helaenas first time speaking that night, a depressed look on her face. “Birthing is not easy even with one, i cannot even imagine two. Isn't it not common to survive?”

“Yes well, my mother had not died while giving birth. She had actually looked like she was going to live which shocked the midwives in the room.” The room sits in silence and some in pure confusion, “Imagine the look on their face after my father picked up a blade and slit it across her throat.”

Rhaenyra chokes on her drink while alicent gasps and covers her mouth. “No…” “ ‘an heir and a spare’ they say. when i was pushed out first he had expected he would keep her around until she gave him another son but soon after me my brother came out and he had no more use for her i suppose.” “That's horrible.”

You simply shrug and finish off your cup requesting some more. “it is in the past. My father shall pay for what he’s done, the lord of light shall do what he sees fit to punish him. Even so he has already paid for his crimes in a sense.” It is a shock to hear you talk so much. Maybe it is the wine that is loosing you up. But there must be a deeper reason as to why you seem to be acting differently tonight.

“It is nice to see someone can keep up with me in the drinks. Maybe we should see if you can keep up with me in other places.” Aegon whispers the last part in your ear. You keep your gaze forward continuing to drink, had you even taken a bite out of your meal.

“Hold your tongue when speaking to my betrothed.” It is now jacaerys who whispers from your right. He has a venom in his voice as he glares in his direction. You look at neither man, simply blind to the stare down they are having behind you.

“My lady i truly feel bad for you. I'm sure his cock is so flaccid he has no clue what to do with it. If you ever need some real experience feel free to come visit me.”

What really gets jacaerys anger is Aegon placing his hand on your bare back that had been exposed. He swears his eye is twitching as he fights the urge to pick up his steak knife and stab it into his hand to get it off your skin. He had never even touched your skin before.

You suddenly reach behind your back and rip his hand off, twisting it lightly causing him to hiss. “Touch me or even so much as speak to me again and i shall do worse to you.” You do not even spare him a glance as you finish down yet another cup and wave down the servant to refill your cup.

Jacaerys however is too anger to say anything else just angrily shoving some of his chicken in his mouth. His other hand rests on the table clenched in the fist. He should not be so angry. He is embarrassed. Embarrassed that Aegon is most likely right. He was obviously not good at much, he could barely speak Valyrian, could barely control his temper-

A hand gets placed on his clenched fist and any thought in his mind ceases to exist. He looks over at you and he notices that they have just brought you a jug of win seemingly tired of having to walk over and refill your cup. You keep your gaze forward but he notices your clenched jaw and rapid blinking.

He has no clue if he’s right but due to your excessive talking and drinking as well as even your posture he could tell, you were stressed. Your mind was clearly not here, Which is why you were answering any questions throw at you. Why you seemed to not even mind the way the men were eyeing you down at the table. He had no clue why you were, he wishes he did. Wishes he could make it go away, he does not wish to see you so stressed.

He unclenches his fist, twists it around and hesitates before lacing his fingers with yours. He expects you to turn him away, or even glare at him but you don’t. Instead you allow yourself to grip his hand tight and your shoulders drop as you relax and let out a deep sigh.

His skin burns, like the two of your hands together rub together to create electricity which sends shockwaves through his soul. He is surprised your hands are so soft, he had expected them to be a lot rougher due to your excessive sword training but you must wear gloves almost all the time as they look like there are barely any scratches and marks on them, as if you have never even lifted your hands to do anything before. His thumb starts to rub against the back of your hand. He knows its not good to question you. Not that you will give him any answers anyways. but he hopes that you do not have to stress for long.

The tension in the room is much more palpable now. They had stopped grilling you about yourself. You almost want to leave but it would be in bad taste, you know they would fight and rhaenyra would want to leave the keep, you must prevent that from happening. “Do you mind if i ask her to dance?” You snap out of your thoughts and lightly turn in his direction. Haleana had just given a speak and looked rather down. Of course he would want to atleast try to cheer her up. but you know that is not a good idea. So you stand, letting go of his hand and his looks up at you in confusion as you walk over to the small group of people playing music.

You stand awkwardly as a cheerful jig started playing and everyone looks over at you. “Lets,,, dance?” Its a group jig. Everyone looks back and forth at one another. You reach your hand out in helaenas direction and she smiles as she stands up to grab it and jacaerys stands to join you soon after, rhaena baela and lucerys follow. Aegon shakes his head as his mother urges him to get him, she has to give a pointed look at the king before he rolls his eyes and stands, walking over to aemond who shakes his head at him causing Aegon to smile and grip his shirt to drag him with him.

Alicent and rhaenyra watch you all with a smile, even otto and daemon have a pleased look as they watch you all. Jacaerys is shocked you even know this tune, he had thought it was a westerosi tune but he guessed you have been in westeros longer than you have been in essos. The song ends and you all laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. You simply stand and watch all of them with a pleased look. Jacaerys looks at you with a smile and grips your hand tightly. He looked so happy. You wish you felt the same but you felt too much stress to share the same sentiment.

“This makes me so happy. To see you all get along. This is all I've ever wanted.” They all stand around and stare at one another as viserys speaks. Alicent stands and looks to viserys. “Isn’t this a great way to end the night.” Viserys eagerly agrees seemingly exhausted and everyone gives each other hushed goodnights as they walk out the room. You nod at rhaenyra and daemon who grabs your hand and thanks you before leaving. You can feel a gaze on you and turn to see otto staring at you. All you do is give him a dramatic bow your gaze never leaving his face as you walk off to join jacaerys who was waiting for you by the door.

“Allow me to walk you-” “No. I will walk you to your room. I don’t plan on sleeping just yet.” You grab his hand and drag him towards the direction of his room. He says nothing as he watches the back of your head, attempting to keep up with your long fast steps. Soon enough they are standing in front of his room and you do not turn back to look at him, instead breathing deeply and gripping his hand tightly. He turns you around to face him, “Please you must tell me what is wrong? Are you alright?” You shake your head and let go over him reaching down into the potted plant near his room and his eyes widen as he sees the long metal chains in your hands. “My lady..?”

“You will listen to me very closely. You are to tie these around your door, your windows and there is a shelf in the back of your room that you must secure this around as well,” He blinks at you as you shove them in his hands, “I do not understand-” “You must do this i beg of you,” “My lady-” “You will not leave your room. You will not open the door should you hear knocking you will not even answer if you hear one of your own families voice. unless it is my own. No matter what you do or see you will not you must promise me.”

You cannot falter to his puppy eyes. The clock is ticking until things start to explode and you are too worried too stressed, you cannot allow anything happen to him. You cup his cheeks and pull him closer to you, his breath hits your face and his eyes dart around your face. “Y/n…..” “Please jacaerys.”

He gulps. His past dreams and thoughts float their way up to his mind. He wants to kiss you, he is staring at your lips so intensely he is not even answering you. You notice this and sigh, shaking your head. “It is not a good time.” “If the situation is as dire as you make it seem maybe it is the best time.”

“I will kiss you later should you agree.”. Though his heart begins to race at the idea and he almost opens his mouth to eagerly agree he cannot stop the anxiety brewing in his stomach. “But what if you are in danger-” “No. You must stay. Agree to do it.” Your face turns to one of irritation at his continuous refusal. “What if i do not?” You press your face closer to him and he instinctively closes his eyes. “I guess i will just have to drag you to your bed and chain you there. Keep you there all night.” He lets out a shaky breath as you step back. That's all he wants. All he’s been thinking about.

“That doesn’t sound so bad. Would you join me?” You shake your head and look at him desperately. “please jacaerys. you must.” “Will you even tell me what this is for.” With you blank look he knows he wont get an answer so he sighs. “I will. as long as you promise to stay safe.”

You freeze. as he looks at you expectantly. He watches you look off to the side and think. He may not know what is going but he can tell you plan on doing something crazy. “I promise.” “do you mean it or are you just saying that.” You give him a flat look and roll your eyes. “I mean it. Kostan daor jikagon, mirri mēre kostagon gūrogon ao hen nyke.” He blinks and tilts his head. “Will you teach me what the things you say mean?”

You look at him once more before you begin to walk backwards, “Goodnight. jacaerys.” “Will you try to get some rest?” You say nothing and just turn your back to him walking off. He watches you until you are far out of his view and attempts to calm his pounding heart as he enters his room. His tub already ready for a bath, he does what you say after waving off a couple maids saying he has no need for them tonight and he wants to go to bed early. He is bad at tying it, he is sure you would be anger if you saw the terrible job he did.

He is unsure as to why you need him to lock up the cabinet in his room but he does it anyways with the most confusion. He strips himself and settles into his bath, its hot. Very hot actually. But it is a nice change from the cold bath he had taken yesterday. You are the only thing he can think about. He wonders what you are doing what is going on. But in a weird way he finds himself trusting you. He has no reason to. You have not shown yourself to be trust worthy. maybe it is the childish part of him or his own selfish desires but he believes you and will do anything you say.

His mind slowly drifts to your dress tonight. The way it flowed as you walked away, the exposed skin where he could see scares all over your legs and back but you still never showed your arms. Was there a reason for that? He wants to know everything about you. He dunks his head under the water as he begins to wonder what you are doing right now.

You stand in your room, back into your black leather outfit as you heart pounds. Looking at the variety of weapons on your table in front of you you hesitate before strapping them onto different spots on your outfit before you stand Infront of your door and freeze. wiping you hands in front of your armor you gulp. This is it. You cannot mess this up, what this has all been leading to. You stand and wait. and wait, and wait and wait and wait for your queue. When you hear the rushing of footsteps outside your door you open it. looking around the hallway before stepping out and swiftly making your way through the corridors with your hood now tossed up.

You were called to the temple about a month ago. it was the highest request from the high priestess herself. Only a few days after you had been elected.

‘There is something you must know. the flames have told me something of great danger.’

You sit in your chair held up above the ground with a bored look on your face. “What could be more important than ruling Essos?” You watch the priestess pace back and forth and sigh.

“The king is going to die soon.”

“That is a shock to no one.”

“no no you must understand they plan to kill the heir.”

This has you sitting up completely with wide eyes. “Whatever are you speaking of?”

“They plan to kill her, her and her children.”

You freeze, blinking slowly. “… her children.”

Jacaerys.

“They plan to gather in the keep. Should they leave war will begin, should they stay they will all die. You must go.”

You play with your dagger that you had tucked into your pocket and look at the priestess with a confident face. “What must i do?”

“They will not do it by their own hands. You must kill them.”

Viserys will be dead in minutes alicent knows this. She watches viserys mutter to himself. She feels sick, sicker than she’s ever felt when he would take her at night, sicker than he had announced to the council he will marry her. She does not want this to happen. She fears what will happen afterwards. The door of the room opens and she stands in shock looking at women who had just entered. “Rhaenyra?” Rhaenyra walks swiftly over to her father ignoring alicent completely and kneels down next to him. “Father?”

Otto walks in the room swiftly after and looks between them all alarmed and walks closer to alicent. “You will be a beautiful queen. I just, wish i could have seen it.” Otto eyes alicent who looks at him. Otto cannot allow this to happen. He already has the means to get rid of them set up, he had not accounted for rhaenyra showing up in this room right now. He can see a danger on the table and grabs it. Alicents eyes widen and she begins to steps towards her father. She does not want rhaenyra to die. That is the last thing she has ever wanted. So she is more than relieved when the door opens to the room once again and otto drops the dagger quickly.

Daemon, unlike rhaenyra who had seemingly ran in here straight from bed still in her night gown, daemon was completely dressed in his leather armor suit with his sword attached to his side quickly making his way over towards rhaenyra to comfort her as she had begun to cry as viserys retold the story of Aegon the conquer once more. Otto internally curses as he knows he cannot act with daemon around. The only real question he has is how did they know to come here? They were meant to be dead asleep in their rooms so the people he hired could come in and deal with them, but what were they doing outside of their room how had they even known to come in here?

Otto gives alicent a look before leaving the room. Alicent begins to worry what otto is going to do. She has no clue but based on what he was about to do she has her worries. But she cannot dwell on that right now she approaches closer to the other two and simply can only watch as viserys passes.

Jacaerys was unable to sleep. His thoughts filled with you, and with worry. What did you seem to be so concerned with? His eyes closed he continues to toss and turn in bed until he hears a thump against the cabinet you had him lock up. He sits up alarmed his eyes widening and heart racing. It continues to thrash until he can hear the sound of gurgling and he can hear what sounds like a body hitting the floor. He wants to get up and check it out but your words ring in his head. He can’t. He is choosing to trust you. he hopes he does not grow to regret this

Alicent is left in a room for the first time since viserys had passed. Daemon and rhaenyra had walked back to their room to mourn maybe an hour ago? She had no clue how much time had truly passed. She finally allows herself to cry. To cry about everything. She swears this is the first time she's cried in years, everything suddenly crashing into her in a sudden wave of anguish. Maybe she had a distain for the man and his blind ignorance of everything but she never truly wanted him to pass.

“Pick up your tears girl there are things we must do.” She looks up towards her father who walks in the room with a satisfied look on his face. “What did you do?” Otto simply shrugged, “What i had to do. There is nothing you can do now it is already done.” Alicent looks angry now, the tear streaks still left on her face as she glares at her father. “The king never would have wanted this!” “The king is dead. Now it is time we move. Come, let us discuss this more privately.”

Otto is horrified to walk into his room to a pile of bodies stacked in the middle of his room the one of the topic having the his back exposed with a familiar skull carved into it. The volantis currency coin honors skull. “That cunt.”

“‘That cunt’ is right.” The two of them jump and like you appeared out of thin air you approach from a far corner of the room. “You.” Otto glares at you and he notices all the blood splotches on your face and he sees the dagger you are holding in your hands, covered in blood.

“Yes, me.” “You have no reason to get involved in this. These are family affairs.” You tilt your head and alicent sees a crazy in your blank eyes she only sees in daemon. It is not clear to her. You do not have a distain for him. You are on the same grounds as him, you probably respect him more than anyone else. She has severely misunderstood you. and now she will pay the consequences for it.

“I have no reason to get involved? They are to be my family. I am to be married to him.” You walk past him and stand directly in front of alicent who looks down. “Here is what is going to happen. You two are going to stop this mindless nonsense. Rhaenyra is going to ascend the throne, daemon will take the position as hand, otto will return to oldtown, Me and jacaerys will take our place in dragonstone, baela and rhaenys will return to driftmark, and you, your children, rhaena and lucerys and the rest of her spawn will stay here.”

“The realm will never accept a women on the throne.” You do not turn back to otto as you address him. your gaze staying strong onto alicent. “They did not seem to have any complaints. Not until you and your Hightower cunts started to spread around that ridiculous rumor about her.”

“You must know it is true,” Alicent hands begin to shake as she speaks, “You cannot truly look at him and think he is of pure blood-” “You will not open your mouth to speak about him again. I let your foolish game go on for too long, it ends today.” Otto stares at the back of your head and scoffs. “You do not truly love the boy do you? You are incapable of love you are nothing but a monster-” “QUIET!” He flinches as you are louder than you've ever been, even during today's trial you had not been so loud.

“You will never speak or even so much as think about him again or else.” His eye twitches as you do not even turn in his direction and keep your gaze on alicent. “You don’t want things to get ugly do you? It would be a shame if something happened to your dear son in oldtown, hmmm what is his name?” You put your hand on your chin in a fake ponder as alicents eyes widen in horror, “Daeron..” “Daeron yes! thats it! it would be terrible should anything happen to him no?” “What have you done?” You open your mouth in a mock horror as your face remains blank, “Why i would never? what a horrible accusation? I just happen to know a few people in oldtown who happen to be willing to do whatever i say.” You get closer to alicents face and stare her down, “It would also be oh so horrible should anyone find out what happened to dear poor Dyane.” “How do you know that?” She whispers to you, she feels like her world is closing in, she feels dizzy and the only thing in her vision is you.

“You may have tried to pay her off but it is best to remember this, i have more. More of everything. More men, more money, more power. You will never win in a fight against me. I am the threat, your worst outcome. You do not wish to toy with me. For i will not kill you, that would be too good of a fate for you. I shall lock you in a room and each day present you with a piece of your children all chopped up day by day night by night until there is nothing left of them and of you because you will be nothing more than an empty shell of yourself.”

She falls to her knees in front of you and when she looks up she sees the closest thing to the stranger. Maybe this is the gods way of punishing her, for trying to change history, for deluding herself in her own self righteousness, It was not all undeserving but she is certainly no saint. She watches as you tilt your head at her and raise your eyebrows. “You will do what i say.” “You did all this for him?” It is the only thing she can find herself to say as you crouch down to be eye level with her. She sees a dark look in your eyes as you lean forward.

“I would do anything for him.”

Knocking at his door came. He does not speak, simply holding his tongue and waiting. “It is me.” He lets out a sigh of relief and quickly rushes towards the door to unlock it and hurriedly lets you in. “My lady, Are you hurt? What has happened?” “You should head to the main hall, The king has passed.” “Grandsire?” He looks over you wide eyed and he grips your arms tightly as he notices the blood. “You are hurt.” You shake your head and for the first time ever he sees you smile. “It is not my blood.” You are so beautiful. He hopes you are forever this happy as you appear to be in this moment.

He is shocked when you grab his face and give him a peck on the cheek. “I told you i would reward you.” “I was thinking of a different kiss my lady.” You raise your brows at him, “I had no clue you were so scandalous my prince. Your grandsire just died.” He smiles and leans himself in to kiss you-

“Jace!” He groans as you step away from him and turn towards the door right as soon as Lucerys stepped into view, out of breathe. “Oh Lady Maegyr.” He bows and you nod your head at him before he looks up at you with wide eyes as he sees the blood on you and looks to jacaerys who is glaring at his brother behind your back. “mother is calling to gather all of us.” “I will meet you in a moment.” He says with intention on finishing what you started. “No he will accompany you there. I must go back to my room but i will meet you all there, if the queen asks for me tell her to start without me.” He glares as you give him a nod swiftly avoid his hand reaching out to grab you.

Lucerys looks at jacaerys who groans and walks out the room with a grumble. He does not even bother to check if his brother is following him. He is more than ready to get whatever needs to be done over with so he can see you again. His mother rushes over and pulls him into a deep hug upon seeing him. “I am so glad you are alright.” he smiles at his mother reassuringly, “i am alright mother, i swear.” After greeting lucerys he walks to stand by daemon who gives him a sly smile. He does not say anything to jacaerys but by the look on his face jacaerys knows he wishes to say something to him.

“Where is Lady Maegyr?” “She had said something about returning to her room. She said to tell you to start without her.” Lucerys answers her quickly. Rhaenyra glances over at jacaerys before simply nodding. She begins to speak about how today will play out, She will be crowned within the next couple hours but before then a personal family only funeral will be held for viserys which is currently being set up. He wishes he could say he is sad to see viserys go but in truth he barely knew the man besides the few times he would speak to him as a young boy.

“My queen.” You walk into the room having changed into a simply black dress, it had been a hand-me-down dress rhaenyra left in your room for you only hours prior and she smiles as she sees you, rushing over to you. “is,,, everything alright?” You know the implications of her question, her worries about the Hightower's and her half siblings and you nod. “It has been taken care of completely do not worry yourself.” She looks at you bewildered at the tone behind your words, “You are not implying what i believe you are…” Her words trail off as alicent walks in somberly dressed in complete black while Aegon trails in behind her looking like the happiest man in the world, a big smile on his face as he stands and bows to rhaenyra, “My queen.” Rhaenyra raises her bows and blinks in shock at his overjoyed appearance and simply nods to him.

Everyone in the room is looking at alicent who does not lift her head or say anything for a few moments before bowing. “My queen.” “There is not need for you to call me that, alicent.” Alicent looks at her hesitantly, the look on her equivalent to that of a kicked puppy before she nods and looks back down. Rhaenyra turns back to everyone else in the room and sighs, “You are all dismissed. You will get ready for the funeral and will be retrieved later.” Everyone floods out back to their rooms to get ready the only one who does not have a somber face is Aegon who practically skips back to his room.

You linger behind for a moment with jacaerys as you look at rhaenyra, “Do you need me?” She simply shakes her head and places her hands on your shoulders. “You have done more for my family than i can even say, please, is there anything i can do for you?” You blink for a moment, unsure of what to do with the sudden praise and simply shake your head. “No my queen. for i already have what i want.” You glance over at jacaerys who blushes at your look and turns away with a cough attempting to push down his smile. He turns around as to not have to face his mother and is instead met by daemon knowing grin and he shakes his head at the young boy.

“Then i can only as you to accept my thanks. and you stand by my family today during the ceremonies.” You nod and bow at her. “It would be an honor my queen.” “You are to be family my dear of course you shall stand with us,” she wraps you in a hug. You stand frozen for a moment, unsure you can recall the last time someone had even hugged you. You hesitantly bring your arms up and wrap them around her. “Maybe later we can discuss you and jacaerys staying at driftmark.” She pulls away after whispering in your ear and nods to dismiss you.

You bow once more before turning to leave, not turning back to look at anyone else and as soon as you step out the door you feel waves of relief crash over you. You had succeeded, they were all alive and well, rhaenyra would be crowned and there would not be any issues from the Hightower’s. You must write to the high priestesses and inform them of your successes but you are suddenly stopped by a frantic rhaenys sprinting towards you with a letter in hand. “Corlys is awake!”

Rhaenyra walks over to jacaerys and places her hands on his cheeks, “My boy. Today is a big day for not just me you know.” He nods and stands up straight. The past couple years of work he’s done to prepare and the years he knows he will have to prepare even more. “Of course my queen.” She presses her lips against his forehead, “Go get dressed.” He nods and exits swiftly leaving alicent, rhaenyra and daemon to discuss god knows what and makes his way to his room attempting to ignore his growing anxiety.

The funeral is a somber service. You stand by jacaerys and grip onto his hand tightly as viserys corpse burns he hears you muttering prayers to yourself with your eyes closed as the fire grows bigger. He does not know much about the lord of light and its religion, he’ll have to do some research once he has the free time but he knows the importance of fire to you and he pulls you closer to him. You open your eyes and stare at the flames in front of you and lean your head against jacaerys’ shoulder and let the flames take over your light of vision, the lords comfort warming you as you feel like this is a sign from R'hllor himself as the flames get bigger and bigger he is content with your work.

Unlike the funeral the crowning is a much more joyful affair, everyone changing out of their mourning outfits and putting on more regal attire as everyone stands around and watches rhaenyra be crowned. Jacaerys send a weak smile his mothers way as he watches her. Him being named her heir is inevitable at this point. He has begun to shake out of nerves. He is not good enough to do this. He cannot do this. He feels you grab his hand this time expect it is absent of your glove and he sighs at the feeling of your warm skin against his. The feeling of your cold metal rings and your comforting touch manages to calm him down until the end of the ceremony where he lets out a sigh of relief as people begin to flood away.

“You must accept my apologies my queen for i must leave.” It was the grand feast afterward rhaenyra looks over to you in shock, you had just given her your congratulations and she places down cup she had been sipping from. “Is something the matter?” “Lord corlys has awoke your grace, the situation at stepstones is too dire for me to ignore any longer.” Jacaerys walks over to from leaving his place by lucerys to stand by you, “You are leaving?” You stare at him with a sadden look before you look down at the floor. “I must.” He attempts to ignore the gnawing feeling in his stomach at the thought of you having to return to war. The two of you have not even gotten to discuss the rapid change in your relationship, if he can even call it one.

“I do not wish for you to go.” He grabs your hands in his and whispers to you. You look at him with a conflicted look and shake your head. “I will return to you. Wait for me?” He nods. He will, he will wait until the end of time for you to come back. So only a few minutes later he watches with a bitter heart as you get on a horse and give him one last final look before you ride off, it takes everything in him not to chase after you. Daemon places his hand on his shoulder and turns him so they can walk back inside together. “Will she be alright?” Daemon is quiet for a moment, “That is a ridiculous question. She is a warrior, she will live.”

It has been over a month since he’s last seen you. Since he’s been struggling with his thoughts and feelings about you. His mother had sent him to dragonstone to take up his place in the ancestorial seat. It was tough to be so far away from his brothers and parents but he did his duty day by day. He wrote to you once but as always did not receive a response. You confused him, You seemed to content with him but you continue to ignore him. He does not understand you.

So his confusion only grows as some of your footmen arrive in dragonstone one day with boxes full of items. “It is the triarchs things Lord Velaryon.” “You bring them here?” “The triach has requested it.” He simply nods and allows them to bring the things in, He is shocked to see how many boxes their truly was. He had never assumed you were the type to care about material goods. “A lot of them are dresses my prince.” A servant tells him as he sees Jacaerys eyeing the boxes, “It is much colder here than it is in Essos so the lady had to have many new clothes made for her to wear here.” Jacaerys lets out an ah as he roams around the boxes, of course, he head heard how hot it is in Essos, apparently Volantis is the hottest out of them all. He shakes his head as it begins to be filled with him trying to imagine what you typically wear back at home. You must not be as covered up as you are here. You probably wear anything at all.

“Do you two plan to share a chamber or do you have a separate room for the lady?” This snaps jacaerys out of his thoughts and he begins to think it over. It would be inappropriate for you two to share a chamber before you are married, but the selfish part of him wishes for when you return back to him for you to stay with him, it makes him sick a the idea of you staying in a separate room from him. But he knows he must do the appropriate thing, tell him he will have a separate room prepared for him. “We will share the main chamber.” Yet he cannot. The servants nod and begin to move the boxes towards the main chamber.

The hour turns late and the sun has since set until your people finally leave with a bow and all your stuff has been placed all over what was once just his chambers. He is at first overwhelms by the smell of you but he soon smiles to himself as he walks around the room. He did not have much stuff, he was never one for material goods but you however had many little trinkets and decorations placed all over the room. He notices a large vase in the room filled with beautiful red roses, he sees a tapestry of the symbol of the lord of light hanging near the bed, he notices the closet the once looked bare now completely filled with a variety of custom made dresses. He walks around the room with a smile on his face as he admire all the little signs of you all ober the room.

What does catch his attention however is a box places on the bedside table. It is a plain wooden box with no clear sighs of what would be in it. He should not open it. He should walk away and leave your personal stuff alone but he cannot stop himself from opening it. He is greeted by a sight he did not expect. Anything he had ever given you, from the letters, the flowers his mother forced him to pick and give to you, even his handkerchief he had lent you one time, everything laid neatly and organized inside the box. he picks up the letters and swipes through them. He is shocked that you had even opened them so much as kept them, he has sworn to himself you had thrown them away. But if you kept them why did you never respond? You continue to confuse his mind and his heart.

“And i thought it was improper to look through someone else's things.” He freezes as he hears the voice he’s been waiting to hear for over a month now. Whipping his head around he sees you, standing clad in your armor shaking your head at him with a soft smile on your face. “And imagine my surprise when the maids told me my stuff was placed in your chambers at the princes request. I never knew you were so scandalous my prince.” He quickly stands and to get a good look at you. You looked like not even a day had passed, just as beautiful as the last time he saw you. He hesitantly smiles. as you walk over to him and take the letters out of his hands and gently place them back in the box like they were your most prized possession.

“You kept them?” You nod as you close up the box and pick it up. “of course i did.” “But you never responded.” This has you looking down and turning away from him. “I did not think you wanted me too.” This has him laughing awkwardly as he watches you closely. “Whatever do you mean?” You place the box on the windowsill and turn back towards him, fiddling around with your armor. “I, am not very good at,” You put your hands back and forth between the two of you, “This. all i would do is mess it up.” He walks closer to you and he can feel his heart pounding, he wants you to mean what he thinks you mean. “Why do you think so?” “My father was a very strict man, he taught me that being friendly will get me nowhere, men don’t like talkative women. So when all you seemed to do was want to talk to me. I was scared.”

He feels his heartbreak. He thinks back onto your brief interactions that month ago and he begins to feel guilty. You just had no clue how to talk to him no matter how much you wished to. and whenever you would try he would say something rude to you. He feels like shit. “I am so sorry. What can i do to make it up to you?” You tilt your head at him in confusion, “Whatever did you do?” “I had been so rude to you-” “It is of no ones fault other than my own.” “That is certainly not true, you have been so so kind to me. to my family. and i have been nothing but a piece of shit.” You giggle at his foul language and shake your head. “Then we are both at fault.”

The two of you laugh. He is so happy. He had been feeling lonely this last month it is so nice to finally be with someone else, especially since it is you. “How is stepstones?” “The war is done. for now atleast, who knows when they could come crawling back up.” “So do you plan on returning to Essos?” “I will be staying here.” “Aren't you one of the rulers of Essos?” “They will be just fine without me, should anything dire come up you should come with me.” “truly?” “You ever been?” “no. but i have always wanted to see it.” You squeeze his hands as you stare at him, “Then i will take you. I will take you anywhere you wish to go.”

His eyes drop to your lips. He is dying to kiss you. He must. He will not live a second longer if he does not. “May i kiss you my lady?” You grip his cheeks and pull him to you. The second your lips tough he feels like he has been lit on fire. Everything else in the world fades as the only thing he can see and think about is you. Your lips move together like the perfect song, working in perfect sync in harmony to create something glorious. He does not want to pull away not even when his lungs begin to hurt from the lack of air he continues to kiss you. He never wants this moment to end. But it does when the two of you separate, breathing heavily. You look at him and he can see the wanting glaze over your eyes, it is unbelievable he is able to control himself.

He tried to pull you back into him once more but you put your hand between your lips. “If this is truly going where i believe it is going can you allow me to bath first? I do not wish to smell like fish and blood and shit.” He shakes his head as he tried to pull you back in, too greedy to even let you slip from his grasp for a second. “I do not mind.” “But i do. Please.” He groans and lets you go as much as he does not wish to. “Fine.” “Do you wish to wash me?” His eyes widen at the idea and his mouth might have even begun to water. “I do not know my lady. Is that a good idea?” “If the prince was not so scandalous it might not be but maybe i was wrong to suggest it.” “I will do as you ask.” “You are a fool.” “Your fool.” He watches as you flush at his words and he calls for the maids to draw you a bath.

He can not help but stare at you as you take off your amour. The leather pieces pilling up on the table as you relieve more and more of yourself to him. It could be poetic, but jacaerys can’t think about anything else like that right now. Not when you stand in front of him, he turns away when you begin to slide off your under clothes. “You do not wish to look at me?” “I am nervous to what i will do when i do my lady.” You say nothing in return but he hears a couple more items drop to the floor and your footsteps on the ground walking towards the bathroom. “Are you going to bath me or not?”

He quickly stands and his hands shake as he makes his way towards the bathroom. He is surprised his knees do not buckle under him as he sees you. Sitting in the tub, steam hitting you oh so perfectly and your bare arms rests against the sides of the tub and he finally sees you fully. “Pick your jaw off the floor my prince.” He can not. He wishes to get on his knees and worship you, he swears he has never seen anything as beautiful as the sight of you. he had thought the most gorgeous you could look is when he saw you in that dress but you look so much better here.

He hesitantly walks over to the bath and kneels right next to you. He grabs the soap and grabs your arm as you carefully watch him. He lightly turns your arm so he can get a full few of the tattoos on your arm. It is a beautifully intricate dragon, it almost completely covers your whole forearm and he can see you have a matching one on your other arm. “What are they for?” “In Volantis when you are of old blood it is customary for you to get dragon tattoos on your arm to symbol your relation to Valyria.” He traces the design with his fingers, admiring the art and the act of you showing this part of you to him. He places a kiss on the dragons head before he begins to lather your arm in soap.

No more words are spoken between the two of you as he washes your back, then your other arm before he moves onto grabbing your hair products and running his fingers through your hair and scratches his nails into your scalp. He hears you hum, your eyes closed in delight and he gulps as he begins to throb against his pants. He watches as you dunk your head under the water to get the product out and you sit back up, looking at him as you run your hands down your face to push away the water. “Why don’t you join me? It would be easier for you to clean me if you were also in here.” He hesitates, nerves build up in his stomach as he opens his mouth but no words come out. “Are you sure my lady?” You smile and nod at him, leaning your head back against the tub to watch him.

He stands and begins to unbutton his tunic, tossing it into some corner of the room. Unlike him you do not take your eyes off him as his bare chest comes into view or even when he begins to unbutton his pants. “My lady is very shameless.” “Is it so wrong i look at you?” He shakes his head before he hesitantly pulls down his pants and he is suddenly standing bare in front of you. He hisses as he cock jumps up to slap him in the stomach leaving you to laugh before he hurriedly moves to sit across from you. The tub is big enough for the two of you to sit side by side but he does not even dare to come that close to you. “You still have a job to do.”

He picks back up the soap and drags it over your collarbone. He watches as the soap bubbles slide down to lay on your breasts and groans to himself as he continues to scrub your down. Ignoring your breasts he instead focuses on your stomach and sides. It feels so intimate, to rub his hands all over your body especially when you continue to let out your own hums of pleasure.

He runs his finger along the long scar down your chest and stomach. “It was a gift from my father. When i turned of age and he found out i was able to be elected. People had begun to suggest i should be nominated in his place. He made sure i would be bedridden for months. They could not nominate me that year.” He leans his head down and presses a kiss against the top of the scar at your neck. “I am glad he is already gone for i would have to deal with him myself.” You reach your hand on his arm and smile at him, nothing more is said but the look in your eyes says enough.

He tries his best to not look between your legs as he washes your legs one by one, he does not allow himself to linger at your thighs before he swiftly pulls his hands away from you. His hands burning as if he had just touched the sun. The bath was now cold. The two of you simply laid their for awhile before you sat up and grabbed his face. “Thank you my prince.” “Jacaerys, jace, not my prince.” You press your lips against his and he groans. The kiss is full of much more fever and desperation this time. He barely believes this is real. He must be imaging this as he had over a moon ago.

You take your hands away from his face and slide them down his chest as he feels your tongue prodding against his mouth he pulls back suddenly causing you to freeze. “Did i do something wrong?” He shakes his head, out of breath as he speaks, “No no nothing wrong. I have imagined this far too often for it to be anything wrong. it is just, i am very sensitive and if you touch me just once i will not be able to perform again.” He hopes you understand what he means. He hopes you know you are not rejecting him, but he wishes for this to go right, and if he is being selfish he does not wish to watch his seed float around in the water but instead flow out of you.

He watches as you stand up and he cranes his head up to look at you. You are the pure image of beauty. He could die now and be content with how he lived for simply getting to breath and stand in your presence is enough for him. He watches as you step out of the tub and he cant help but stare at your ass as you turn your back and walk out of the room, you turn your neck and look at him. “Are you coming?” He quickly stands and follows after you, neither of you bothering to care about the dripping water all over the bathroom and the bedroom. You have sat down on the bed and hold out your hand to pull him on top of you.

He pulls you into another kiss as the two of your skins press against each other. He feels so hot. He hands press against your face as he opens his mouth and allows the two of your tongues to intertwine with one another. His lips leave yours as they instead they begin to trail down your jaw and down your neck as his hands move to grip your waist and pull you closer to him. The two of you stay like that for awhile, and expected to stay like that the whole time but are more than shocked when he grips your hips tightly and flips you around so you are on top and he is on the bottom, you sitting directly over his abs. When you look down at him in confusion he simply smiles at you.

“It is only right you are above me, for you are a goddess who deserves to be worshipped.” His hands slide up your stomach and begin to fondle your breasts as you throw your head back and moan. “gaomagon daor tepagon qrīdrughagon aōha dōna udra sīr easily syt iksan naejot qūvy ilagon se qēlossās se se jēdar syt ao” he easily recognizes the words. The same ones you had told him in the library that faithful day in the keep. “What does it mean?” You moan as he thumbs begin to flick against your nipples and look down at him. “do not give away your sweet words so easily for i am willing to tear down the stars and the sky for you.”

He can not respond, not when he watches as your hips begin to move along his abs, fuck, he can see you essence leaving a trail on him as you use him for your own pleasure. He would let you, use him all day, any day, if it meant he would get to hear the sounds you are currently making, the way your face twists in pleasure with your eyes closed. “Have you ever touched yourself my lady?” You let out a meek hum as you throw your head back, he's hands move from your breasts to your hips to help guild you. “I have Jace, everyday, i can not help it for i am thinking of you.” He lets out his own string of curses at your admission. He watches as you reach one of your hands to your folds and your moans only get louder.

He wants to do that. He wants to know every inch of you to be able to pleasure you in all ways he can. He wants to be the reason you get louder, he wishes for you to desire him, to have to need him like air like he needs you. “Teach me how to do that.” He is more than happy when you remove your own hand and grab his, moving it to slide under you and he curses as he feels your wetness dripping on him. “Are you supposed to be that wet?” “It is because of you Jace.” He feels you move his fingers to push past your folds and he can feel a hard bulb under this fingertips. “That. touch that Issa jorrāelagon (my love),” You moan as you feel his rougher fingers begin to press against it. “In circles, ugh yes like that, you can press harder.”

The roughness of his fingertips feel much better than your own fingers and you can’t help but move your hips faster against him. His fingers move faster against your clit and you can feel the burning in your stomach grow larger. “Issa jorrāelagon, im gonna make a mess.” He groans at your words and uses one hand to move your faster and the other hand to continue to play with your clit. “Please do, fuck, I want to see it, fuck.” Can a man cum untouched? He has no clue but the way his cock is throbbing he swears he is about to burst at simply watching your pleasure. He feels the rush of liquid begin to pool and cover his hand. He moves his fingers and moves them towards your opening as he can not get over the way it feels, the hot liquid pooling over his fingers.

You jump when he pushes two of his fingers inside of you, hissing as he shoves your own cum back inside of you as he touches your gummy walls. “Jace,,,” You moan out as your head drops forward to stare at his wrist. He says nothing but moans as he begins to thrust his fingers in out, barely pulling them out before he shoves them right in. He is fueled by your moans, the way your hands claw at his chest as he is simply amazed by you. You do not know if your walls are covered with your own essence or your own cum as he adds another finger and presses them against your walls.

He wishes to memorize you, to keep this locked tight in his memory for him to look back on. He can barely believe what he is doing and hopes he is doing it right. But when you begin to move against his fingers he knows he must be doing something right. The only words you speak are his name, over and over again as he fingers begin to move faster and faster inside you. The pit in your stomach grows once again and your begin to drag your nails down his chest in pleasure. “I am about to cum jace.” He says nothing this time only moving his free hand to play with your clit which sends you over the edge. He does not remove his fingers are stop his movements simply enjoying the withering pleasure you are feeling

“Please Jace i wish to feel your cock.” This has him removing his hands and you hiss at the sudden emptiness. You watch as he places each of his fingers in his mouth, closing his eyes and throwing his head back, like your own taste is his own personal pleasure. His eyes are cloudy in a haze as he watches you sit up with shaky knees and adjust grab his dick in your hands. He moans as you rub your thumb over his tip, spreading around his precum and pressing down against it. “Do not tease me y/n please.”

He watches as you sit right above him, you sink down low enough that just his tip is rubbing against your folds. You use his tip to push your folds aside and slowly you begin to sink down onto his cock. If he was told this is how it felt after he died he would have believed it. He has never felt a greater pleasure than he has right now. He understands why people consider this act sinful, for everyone would be doing it everyday if it were not. He watches his cock slowly disappear and he lets out a whimper as you sit all the way down.

He can see the dent in your stomach and reaches his hand to touch it. This was unbelievable. He stares at you, the way you look down at his hand and cover it with your own, pressing down causing him to groan and you to moan. Unconsciously you readjust yourself, lifting yourself on him just so slightly just to slide back down and he curses.

That felt so good, he wants you to do that again. “Can i move?” You are clearly as desperate as he is and he hears it in your voice. “fuck please my lady please.” Your hips lift and you come crashing back down onto him. The bed underneath you rocking with the action as you do it over and over and over again. Slowly at first but you begin to create a rhythm as his hands grab your tits to squeeze them.

The room is filled with the sounds of your slamming against him, the wet sounds of him pushing into you and your combined moans. If this made him a sinner so what? He was not religious and he would refuse any god that said this was not the most holy and pleasurable thing to do on earth. He begins to move his hips up to meet yours and he watches your face contort. “We must do this, ugh, everyday.” You nods feverishly as both of his hands moving to your hips to help you bounce faster as his hips begin to harsh slam up into you. “Yes, everyday, every night, ughh, everywhere,” You let out an especially high pitched whimper as he begins to toy with your clit. “All over the castle.”

Yes he would like that, so much. He can see it now, the way he would allow you to sit on the throne as he pounded into you. The way you would sit under the table during meetings and suck him dry while he attempts to maintain his composure, fuck he’ll do this everyday of his life for as long as he lives. He can feel that familiar feeling brewing ever so close in his stomach, “are you close my lady?”

You let out a rush of hushed yes’s as you begin to move faster. “Cum with me my lady, cum please.” You let out more yes’s as he feels you throbbing around his cock causing him to burst. You cry out at the feeling of his hot seed spilling webs inside you as he suddenly flips you around and continues to pound into you as your back hits the bed. “Cum my lady, fuck.” The change of angles hits you so well along with the sounds of wetness splashing below you as he cock pushes his cum deeper inside you and all around your walls.

You suddenly splash over him with a cry and your back arches off the bed. He can feel you hit his upper stomach, all over his thighs and even his chest. You looked so beautiful, the way your eyes shut closed so tight there were crinkles around your eyes and the way your teeth and jaw clenched as he feels you continue to pulse against him, liquid trickling around his cock and out to drip on the bed.

He leans his forehead against yours and the two of you just lay there for awhile. attempting to catch your breathes. He brings one of his hands to caress your cheek and you open your eyes to look at him. “Jace.” “I love you.” You smile, a wide grin fills you face as you chuckle. “I have loved you for a long time Jacaerys.” He kisses you lightly and the two of you simply lay like that until you fall asleep. sharing pecks and tiny whispers of admiration. He can barely believe he got so lucky end up with a woman like you. Someone who loved him so much they would do to the ends of the known world for him even if he had said some cruel things to you. He loved you he loved you he loved you and he was so happy you loved him too.

a.n: This is genuinely the most crazy project of my whole writing career LMAO if you've made it this far i really want to say thank you. It's because of the endless support I've gotten on my recent stuff that really gave me the confidence to write something like this. I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS i love you all so much <3

perm jacaerys taglist: <3

@tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aegonswife

魏無羨, WEI WUXIAN — through the years

for wei ying’s birthday!!

[image id: 7 gifs of wei wuxian from chen qing ling/the untamed. 1. wuxian sitting in the cloud recesses’ library, looking at lan wangji with a mishevious smile on his face. 2. wuxian sitting on a bed in lotus pier, smiling at jiang yanli as he drinks from a bowl of soup. 3. wuxian standing in front of the palace of nightless city at dusk, playing his flute, chenqing, as black smoke swirls around him. 4. wuxian talking to wen qing (offscreen) at the burial mounds, a pensive and dispirited expression on his face. 5. wuxian standing on a cliff at nightless city, overlooking the battle, a hopeless expression and blood on his face. 6. wuxian sitting in the jingshi, talking to wangji as he drinks from a cup of liquor. 7. wuxian and wangji standing next to each other at the waterfalls behind the cloud recesses. wuxian smiles brightly at wangji. the colored caption reads: 魏無羨, WEI WUXIAN — through the years /end id]

HEARTSTOPPER (2022-) | S03E06 'Body'

Contemplating myself