౨ৎ ‧₊ ⋆ 23. she/her. lover of pink, anything sweet, cats, crying while listening to lana del ray, and creating my own fantasies ⋆₊ ‧ ౨ৎ
masterlist
♡ disclaimer: i am new to posting what i write and new-ish to tumblr so im still working out the kinks. helpful feedback is welcome so long as you’re kind. i plan on writing x reader fics and maybe some oc's as well :) please let me know how i can improve on running this blog!
♡ interests: asoiaf, mcu, dark + why choose romances, and making up scenario's in my head to fall asleep to
♡ MDNI, this blog is 18+, if i find a minor lurking on my page you will be blocked.
hi 🩷 life has been so busy! earlier this month u graduated from my intensive therapy program, i’ve been doing a lot of work on my recovery and have been spending most of my days working, planning, and beep bopping around town
i have still been working on new and old fics and am almost done with my next post. i hope any work released lives up to expectations 🩷
I dunno about you, but I want to see Baelor being aggressively pursued by a young maiden. Cunning, adaptable and visually stunning. Maybe she's from an extremely wealthy family feom Yi Ti or some other exotic land abroad who always gets whatever she wants from life.
He looks at his own reflection every day and only notices the flaws that others may see upon him. His nose, crooked from all the times he's broken it in battle. Silver draining the pigment of his previously onyx-like hair. A layer of fat spreads over his bulky muscles, substituting his previously shreded physique for a more bear-like build (nom nom🤪—) and his features... getting more Dornish as he ages... Something the court disliked.
He's a widowed father with the weight of the world upon his shoulders. He's getting old. So what the FUCK is this young girl doing trailing after him and initiating physical contact so boldly?! Seriously! Nuzzling her face into his palm like a panther, she even purrs like one! In front of the whole COURT! Is she blind to all the other young suitors around her?
He thought he was out the races when in comes this beautiful bombshell who just sees him and goes
Anytime he goes to tell her off, she pouts— blinking tears away with her long lashes up at him. "Is it wrong? I'm sorry, I just like Your Grace sooo much~"
So what the hell is he supposed to say? She has no limits, inserting herself into his life slowly but surely. Maybe he wakes up one day and she's already sleeping in his arms because she snuck in during the night. She sends him desserts she prepares with her own hands while he works away in his desk. Personally guards off any other ladies who like Baelor with zealousness. He deserves to be the obsession too.
Anyway, Baelor gets a beautiful and passionate woman of alluring origins to cure his mid-life crisis/angst.
Baelor isn't sure what to do with this young maiden, closer to his son's age than his, trailing after him, seeking an audience with him, sharing her poems with him. It's flattering initially, but then she starts to grow bolder, and Baelor doesn't quite know how to tell her no.
He can't blame anyone but himself when she starts to sneak into his chambers in the evening, eager to share wine and talk of his battles. He's so kind to not force her out, exposing her to the vile rumours that would follow, she whispers to him.
Anytime he goes to tell her off, she pouts— blinking tears away with her long lashes up at him. "Is it wrong? I'm sorry, I just like Your Grace sooo much~"
He's apologising profusely, trying to let her down gently, when she surges forward and pecks at his lips. Baelor sighs and goes to tell her off again when she pounces on him once more, more forceful as her lips land on his. This time, he finally lets go of the expectations and sinks into the kiss that this pretty maiden is gifting him.
She's purring into his touch as he runs his hand over her body, finally! Baelor can't even be bothered to protest as she guides him to his bed and begins undressing, her robe giving way to an indecently sheer nightgown.
She wore it just for him, she cries, sinking down onto his cock. For the first time in years, Baelor can finally let go, allowing himself to indulge in the sins of the flesh. He's rusty at first, but the pretty whining maiden on top of him doesn't seem to mind. She's just happily thinking that he wouldn't deny her any longer.
Maekar never expected to marry again, never expected to love again. he tried to be a distant husband, a husband in name only. and yet you with your sweet smiles, kind eyes made it so hard for him to forget to be the stern man Westros knew him as, made it hard for him to forget that he didn't want to fall in love.
Maekar Targayren x Florent!reader
Word count: 3,829
CW: MDI, 18+, smut, arranged marriage, grumpy x sunshine, age gap, previous postpartum depression, parental guilt?, angst, miscommunication, talks of childloss/ infertility. baelor lowkey a little bit of a villian in the beginning but its bloodravens fault really.
Masterlist | six | seven | eight
authors note : decided to split this part in two, im still working on golden part 2 sorry guys (i forgot i had plans this weekend and its only making my procastionation on writting it worse)
212 AC, three-year time skip
You bounced the babe in your arms with a soft smile on your face as you stared at your daughter. Maegella giggled in your arms, her hands reaching to clap your face in her hands as she smiled.
Daenys sat on the floor playing with the mountain of toys her relatives brought her. You stared at her with a soft smile, though a feeling of guilt settled in the pit of your stomach. A feeling you had felt since the day Maegella was born. Unlike with Daenys, the melancholia you had felt never came after your second pregnancy, the bonding between you and Maegella was instant and never wavered. A fact you grimly accepted. Of course, you had hated the months spent overshadowed by unexplained sadness, the months after spent worrying it would come back, that you had ruined your chances of loving Daenys as you should, even if protectinvess over her had clouded your judgment for the first year of her life.
A part of you would forever feel guilty for loving Maegell and never wavering in it. Even if it had not been your fault with Daenys. Even if you made up for it every day, it still gnawed at you.
You felt small hands pull at your hair, pulling your focus back on Maegella, laughing with a shriek of delight as you grimaced.
In truth, a part of you blamed Maeakar for the guilt that ate at you. He hadn’t wanted you to have another child, for fear of the melancholia returning. You being in pain, filled with such sadness, had destroyed a part of him, had made him wary and fearful of what would happen to you should you suffer the same pain again.
And Maekar, being a man of action and not words, had taken his fear and ran. The day you told him you were pregnant again, you were filled with such joy, joy he had been happy to match. He had spun you around the room, kissing every inch of your face. And then the visit with the Maester happened, where Maester Bromwell had spoken of your chances of getting the melancholia again, and suddenly Maekar withdrew. As if tearing himself away from you would stop you from feeling the melancholia all over again.
After that, things were tense between you both, with him worrying over an outcome that didn't even come true. And you angered and fearing the same. And then your pregnancy grew difficult. You were bed-bound from the fifth moon onwards. The Maesters fretted over your health and talked to Maekar, never you, about your chances of survival. After that, he looked at you as if he saw a ghost. Treated you like glass and worried over every possible scenario. He began to slowly see you, to talk about you as if you were already gone.
After that, you tore yourself away from him. Ordered his things to be moved to a different chamber. He treated you as if you were already gone, so you simply treated him the same.
And he had allowed it.
Your only company in those months was your friend Lady Lannister, Baelor's wife. A girl you had known for five years by the time your second pregnancy had begun, and a girl who had once written to you begging you to find anyone but her to marry your good brother. You had agreed and presented the other ladies to the small council. But with a dowry as substantial as hers, it meant you were forced to present her name on your list of possible candidates to Baelor. And Baelor and the realm all choose her.
An outcome all parties were glad for now. Even if she looked at you with jealousy as she held your daughter with both sadness and longing.
She had lost her babe in the childbed, the same moon you had found out you were with child. She was never an angry woman, and yet since then she had been encased in grief and frustration over herself.
She, like Maekar, had kept her distance, at least at first. Leaving you alone and isolated, with your cousin Rose Oakheart now wedded to Lyonel Baratheon and Arsa Stark sent back north after her sister, Alarra, and wed Aerion. A match the realm had hoped would tame the prince, but only seemed to spur him more. Daena had remained close, married to lord Ronald Rosby, but still had little time to sit boxed in a room with you. Your other cousin, Florence Redwyne, had spent the entirety of your pregnancy longing after Daeron, leaving her far too preoccupied to keep you company, and Saffron Mooree had been scared of by Bloodraven the second she stepped foot in King's Landing. Whatever transpired between the two of them after a single meeting had left the poor girl running back to the Vale.
But when the Maester had bound you to your bed and the young queen realised her jealousy affected you more than her and had rarely left your side for the remainder of your endless days of lying in bed.
She had stayed with you through your labours. With Maekar sent away by Baleor to Oldtown a moon before you were due, the business of the hand took precedent. Your good brother had apologised profusely, saying he would be back in time. But five moons after that, Makear was still away from court. His journey to Oldtown later became his journey to Dorne, then too summerhal. At first, you had been happy with him gone, at least that's what you told yourself. In fact, you loved your husband far too much not to miss him, and with each passing day and letter where his words were filled with duty and longing, you only missed him more, a fact you never admitted to. He spoke cordially in his letters, though still signed them with love. Still sent you gifts or anecdotes he knew you would enjoy.
But as the months drifted by, the children all asked where the father was. Where Maegalla still went without meeting her father, you began to grow more bitter. He had left things sour between you and made no effort to return home, he never argued against the king and Blood Ravens' orders to attend the king's business in person. Even when that business now led him to Whitehalls for a wedding.
Everything good about your life, the little amount of time in your marriage where everything went smoothly, where you loved each other unconditionally. Was gone. Your ideals of the world long gone, faded with the hatred you had for yourself after Daenys. And since the day the Maesters placed unnecessary fears in both your minds, your world had begun to lack colour.
You no longer fit your pink dresses from before, and without Maekar here to love you, to reassure you and to praise your body, the colour pink faded into the back of your wardrobe.
You dressed in black as if in mourning. Which, in truth, you supposed you were.
Maekar hated himself. Truely. Five long months without you in his arms, all because of his own cowardice.
He had never been a coward, one might even consider him brave. And yet when it came to you, he was weak. An utter disgrace to his name, the Anvil. The Anvil had long turned to rust with the cowardice he had when it came to facing you. With facing how he loved you so dearly, it had frightened him, the chance to lose you. Both physically and mentally, all over again. He was terrified of what would happen should the sadness that had clouded you before affect you again.
So he ran. Not on purpose, no, he hadn’t wanted to leave you, but he was forced to travel on Bloodraven and his brother's missions across the southern areas of the kingdom, a mission that never seemed to end. No respite was given even when his brother wrote to him about the birth of his daughter, Maegella. He missed her birth, missed holding you. Missed apologising to you and admitting he was in the wrong, missed explaining his actions.
Instead, he had to watch as the moons had passed, and each time he started the journey home, he found himself on another mission from the crown. A missive he could never excuse, no matter how many letters he sent his brother begging he send anyone else. Baelor refused. Each and every time. A fact he loathed, hated his brother for. And hated that the duty that had been instilled in him since birth stopped him from refusing his brother's commands.
He wrote to you often, daily in fact. Though for every seven letters he wrote, only one was sent. He had many a thing to tell you, many tales and gifts he wanted to see your reaction to firsthand, so many things to apologise for, that he limited himself in his letters, eager to see your smile, your laugh and how your face lights up when he attempted a joke. Eager to watch you as he told his tales, and eager to listen to you as you told your own.
What he missed most of all was his children, he had not yet met his youngest daughter, Maegella. Had been denied the chance to see both his daughters by you be born, all due to his own sense of bitter duty. A month they had promised, a month had faded into five, and the pregnant wife he had left behind now held a babe in her arms, a babe whose face he had yet to see, whose name he hadn't had the chance to help choose. (Though in truth you named her after him, to honour him and the love you knew would come back, even if it meant a few bitter months of strain between them. You knew your heart would forever beat for him as his did for yours. Though neither of you had the guts to admit it quite yet)
The last mission, as Maekar had finally reached his wit ends and threatened to resign as hand should his tour for use trip around Westeros were to be continued. Baelor realised his mistake, he could tell from the letter he sent bidding him to journey to Whitehall, the seat of House Butterwell. A wedding tourney was being held, and his son Egg had journeyed there with Dunk on their latest travels across Westeros. Egg had sent a letter with news of the coup hidden behind the guise of a tourney, a Blackfyre plot.
Had he not despised the Blackfyre’s and feared another rebellion, another chance to be separated from you, he would have refused to attend the shame tourney, but when news of the bastard Daemon Blackfyre's son, Daemo,n was in attendance, he was forced to go, destroy Whitehall Castle and arrest the pretender.
Within a week, he was journeying home, letters Baelor sent left unopened. He refused to be delayed further. With the prisoner in hand and a small retinue of soldiers, they made their way back to the red keep in record time. Five long months had passed, and Maekar didn’t plan to lose any more time with you, even if Helene he’d spend the next weeks on his knees begging for forgiveness.
They were greeted at the gates of the red keep, the entire court had come to witness the pretender be thrown in the black cells. Everyone, it seemed, but you.
His welcome back was a haze of blurriness, with Baelor greeting him with a warm smile and a pat on the back, his new good sister, the Lady Lannister, with a kind smile on her lips, though a sadness shone in her eyes. Rhaegal was ecstatic to see his younger brother, wrapping his arms around Maekar's steady frame and kissing his cheek in utter joy. Rhageal had always been Makear's favourite brother, and vice versa. Where many people thought Maekar's soft spot only lay with his daughters and wife, his soft spot had at first only belonged to Rhageal. Aerys greeted him with his usual boredom, a book under his arm that it was clear he was eager to resume reading. Bryden Rivers assessed him closely, words of congratulations falling from his lips, words that didn’t match the scowl on his face. He watched as Bryden’s one eye turned to Daemon, pity in his eye as he ordered the guards to drag him to the black cells.
The entire time as his brothers and goodsisters greeted him, as lords and ladies, he could scarcely remember the names of praising his victory against the pitiful rebellion. But with each comment, his eyes only worked harder to find you.
He made his way through the keep, dismissing his brother and refusing to discuss whatever kingly business was on his mind. Whatever it was could wait. Entering the hands tower, Daeron greeted him, somewhat sober, though it was clear he was more excited to see Egg than his own father. Daella and Rhae stood holding Little Daenys' hand, arguing over who the best sister was and ignoring their father as they fought, only acknowledging him when he cleared his throat, and they could drag him into the debate. He had expected to find you with them, standing behind them, shaking your head knowingly as a smile played at your lips. Bouncing Maegella in your arms. But there was no such sight, no knowing gave, and no wife standing vigilantly behind his children.
“Where is your mama?” he asked, taking Daenys from the arguing sister's arms. Daenys fell into his shoulder, snuggling against her father as he patted the back of Rhaes's head, as she too jumped to hug him. Daella, “a woman now,” she had argued before he had left, watched with envy on her face as he hugged two of his youngest. “Daella?” he urged her answer, and urged her to join his hug, “your mother?” She walked forward, acting as if she was doing him the favour as she hugged him. “She’s in the nursery,” Daella shrugged, breaking away from the hug and pulling Rhae with her, “Maggie’s sick.” his eyes darted to the nursery door. It was open slightly, not enough for him to peer inside, but enough for him to hear you humming a lullaby.
He nodded, passing Daenys to Daeron, who eagerly took her from him, a doll already in hand.
Steeling himself, he pushed the nursery door open. Your humming continued as he entered, showing no signs of acknowledgement that you had noticed him, not even when he shut the door behind him.
He spoke your name softly, his hand reaching for you as you stilled, your humming stopped, and your eyes flickering over your shoulders and watching him closely, “Maekar?” you breathed, in both shock and what Maekar hoped was joy. He walked towards you slowly, his eyes searching for his youngest child.
Your voice was a whisper, “she’s sleeping.” You moved to the side as you spoke, allowing him to get a look at Maegella. You began to hum slowly, your hand caressing her cheek as he walked over. A soft smile on his face, “she looks just like you,” he remarked, smiling, his arm wrapping around your waist as you both watched her sleep. “I'm sorry,” he whispered, “I never should have gone”
You shook your head, “let us not talk about it here,” you backed away from him, walking to the door that led up the stairs and into your own chambers.
The room had changed a little; your side of the bed was made, and a different book was at your bedside. The few trinkets and jewels he had sent to you on his journey sat front and centre on your vanity. His letters sat on your desk, tied together with a pink bow, his latest one open next to a half-written reply. His side of the room was kept almost frozen in time, the cape he had worn the day of their last argument still sat thrown over his desk chair, the pebbles Daenys and Rhae had collected for him on the desk next to the dried flowers Daella had gifted him. A box with a gift he had left for you, a parting gift, sat open, with the pink wrapping paper and bow placed neatly beside it, the jewelled necklace, he noticed, sat around your neck. The shirt he had left, meaning to give to the seamstress to mend, sat on his dresser table, your own sewing kit sat close by. But the rest of it was frozen. The dresser drawer you always closed behind him was still open, a shirt pocking out of it. His bedside table was mostly the same, though he noticed the book, he was sure he had left it open upside down on the page he last read, now sat closed with a feathered bookmark marking his spot.
He watched you move to sit on the bed, your dress, a deep maroon with only pink accents, he noted a small frown over the fact you had forgon you usual pink dresses, fanning out beside you, your hands reached for your hair, pulling it loose.
He walked towards you, kneeling in front of you and taking your hands in his, “I'm sorry for leaving, both when and how I did,” he breathed, his face falling into your lap. Your hands reached for his hair, playing with the ends. His hair had grown longer and rougher in the past few months.
You hummed, “I know,” you fell forward, placing a kiss on his hair, “I don’t want to talk about it, not now.” You lifted his head, placing kisses all over his face.
He looked up at you, his eyes locking with yours as he began to stand up, pushing you back on the bed. “Later?” he asked, kissing your neck softly. You nodded, your hand reaching to play with the hair at the base of his neck, “Will you let me start making it up to you now?”
“Please do,” you whispered, pulling Maekar into a kiss. The kiss was messy, lacking the controlled heat of your usual kisses. His tongue pressing into your mouth, swirling with your own, as his hand reached to ruck up your dress. His finger reaching between your thighs, moaning as he felt your bare wet heat on his fingers. You broke from his lips in a gasp as his finger pressed slowly into you. Your head falls back onto the bed, pulling his mouth back onto yours. His finger was quickly joined with another. It took little time before he was fucking you with his fingers, his mouth swallowing your moans as pleasure filled you. Your grip on his hair only tightened as you felt your peak was over, your scream of pleasure swallowed by Maekar.
His hand reached for the ties of his breaches as he withdrew his fingers from your cunt. Your hand pushed against his chest, pushing him back as you crawled towards the head of the bed, your dress bunched around your hips, as you waited for him on your hands and knees.
The bed dipped behind you, your eyes flickering over your shoulder, watching as Maekar threw off his clothes, tossing them on the ground, his hands reaching from your ass, smacking it softly and watching as they jigged from his slap. He reached forward, squeezing it softly, before he reached for the ties of your dress, nearly tearing it off.
“Maekar”, you gasped, watching as your dress fell onto the bed, “that was new.”
“I'll buy you others, pink ones,” he groaned out as he reached between your legs, gathering your silk across his cock, as his cock begged to fuck you.
He pushed into you slowly, enjoying every second of your cunt wrapping around his cock. You fell forward, your hand falling out from under you, a loud moan falling from your lips, only to be muffled by the pillow.
He set a hard pace, fucking into you with reckless abandon. You gripped desperately onto the bed, your face still pushed against the bed, Maekar’s hand reaching to hold your neck, keeping you down against the bed. His other hand stayed firmly on your ass, pressing smacks against it as he fucked you. With each smack, another moan fell from your lips.
He moaned your name, feeling you tighten around his cock, your second peak washing over you as he continued to fuck into you at the same pace. His hand moved from your neck, positioning his hands on your waist as he chased his own pleasure. His peak washing over him hard and fast, his cock pulling out to spill across your back.
You fell full forward onto the bed, as Maaker withdrew from you, his breath heavy as he reached for the wash basin to wash his seed from your back.
He fell onto the bed beside you once you were both cleaned up, pulling you to his chest. Your breaths heavy.
“I missed you,” you both spoke at once, your eyes locking on one another.
You sighed, “I missed, but I- you hurt me,”
“I know - I'm sorry I couldn’t say no-”
You sat up straight, pushing yourself off him, “No, and that’s the problem!”You shook your head, crawling off the bed and reaching for a new gown to wear, “I needed you! And you left!” Your back was turned to him, “you left because the bloodraven ordered it, and when I demanded you stay despite our fight, despite both of our fears. You still left!”
He stood by the bed, reaching for his own clothes as you both dressed, “I am the hand of the king, I was doing my duty to the realm.”
You turned to him sharply, your eyes cold “What about your duty to me? To your children? You haven't even held Maggie yet,” your voice broke. “Daenys asked me daily where you were. Rhae has a stack of pictures she has to give to you…” You trialled off a tear falling down your face, “you left me, you left me alone all over again! I thought we were past this?” he walked towards you, his hand floating, aching to reach for you, “you promised me you would never abandoned me, that I, that our children would always come first.” You shook your head, reaching for the door, the happiness your coupling had given you wearing off, whatever forgiveness he had thought you granted him faded away, “you promised,” your voice was a whisper, broken and breaking his own heart.
You didn’t look at him as you left the room, you didn’t wait for him to chase after you. And makear was left realising just how grave a mistake he had made.
fix-it: Baelor survives the tournament but suffers a neurological injury that temporarily affects his fine motor control, making it difficult for him to use his hands normally, Maekar takes care of him during his recovery
Maekar never expected to marry again, never expected to love again. he tried to be a distant husband, a husband in name only. and yet you with your sweet smiles, kind eyes made it so hard for him to forget to be the stern man Westros knew him as, made it hard for him to forget that he didn't want to fall in love.
Maekar Targayren x Florent!reader
Word count: 4,652
CW: MDI, 18+, arranged marriage, grumpy x sunshine, age gap, postpartum depression, suicidal thoughts, death from spring sickness. maekar using wife as a term of enderment again, Angst. Maeakar being a great husband?(your depressed so hes depressed). talks of miscarridge/ still birth. proofread once. cannoncial Maekar bastard hating.
Authors notes: Thank you all so much for your wonderful ideas! they were very much appreciated! This is an emotional one! please read the warnings. let me know if you guys want a story about Baelor remarrying (and to which lady)
Masterlist | one | two| three | four | five | six
Cries filled your chambers, as a wet nurse bounced Daenys, soothing her cries as you stared at the same spot in the wall. Your eyes were heavy, wet with unshed tears, as you flinched at the sounds of your babies' cries, at the sound of the wet nurse whose name you couldn’t remember, soothing your baby.
You hadn’t left your chambers, or even your bed, in days. The spot in the wall your only focus. Your food lay untouched, your bedsheets unchanged, your hair unbrushed.
“Would you like to hold her, my lady?”You shook your head, slowly, roughly swallowing as your eyes breathily darted to the nurse, Wylla? Or was it Willma?
She eyed you carefully, no disdain in her eyes, but they lacked the softness that had been there days earlier. She walked towards you slowly, rocking Daenys in her arms. You shook your head as she approached, hiding your head in your pillow. The wet nurse continued her approach, her hand reaching for your shoulder. You flinched at the touch, burying yourself further into the pillows. Wynnie? Or perhaps Wendy backed away from you at your flinch, her face set in a deep frown.
The door to the chambers opened, your husband's steps echoing through the rooms as he approached Daenys, who had now stopped crying, a soft smile on his face as he took the baby, kissing her head softly “You're dismissed, Winn”. You hid your head in your pillow, refusing to look at your husband as Winn left. You knew her name started with a W, and yet the joy you would feel over the victory of being right never came.
Makear called your name, a soft sigh falling from his lips when you didn't move. Your body frozen, as if not moving would hide you from your husband's unrelenting stare. “Wife,” he walked towards you slowly, you felt the bed dip, his hand reaching for you as he settled beside you. “What's wrong?”
You made no effort to reply, no effort to move or reach for the hand Maekar offered you. A deep sigh fell from his lips. You had been fine, the first two weeks after birth, you were happy and content, overjoyed even. But three days ago, you had woken up with little care to dress, little care to move. The cries of Daenys going ignored, your eyes shut as you tried to will the world around you away. You hated yourself for it. For your lack of care, for the unshed tears in your eyes. But no matter how much hatred could make you care, no matter how many disappointing stares or comments made to you or at you, made you want to get up. Made you want to care for the child that only days ago you had loved with all your heart.
He stood from the bed slowly, the small gurggles of Daenys fading as he passed her off to some maid. A few days ago, you would have cared, would have watched Daenys go with a soft smile, making note of whoever took her. But you didn’t move, didn’t want to know.
Good riddance, you thought. You hated yourself for it, for the relief you felt of Daeny's leaving.
You moved your head, hooded eyes watching Maekar as he took in the room. His steps slowed as he reached for the plate you had thrown on the floor. He spoke your name, soft and caring. “Look at me,” he begged, placing the plate and food on the dresser, walking towards you. He knelt beside you, grasping your hands and kissing them softly. You swallowed roughly, willing yourself to look at him.
Your sorrow met his, your eyes pained as you forced yourself to hold his stare, “I don’t know what's wrong with me.” Your voice was rough, from days of not speaking. “I don’t want to do anything, I can’t do anything” A tear slipped down your cheek.
His hands still gripped yours, his own eyes filled with unshed tears. He pressed a long kiss to your hands, then reached up to press a soft kiss to your cheek, capturing the tears that slipped from your eyes. “It’s okay,” he soothed, his loose hand coming to stroke your head, as tears fell down your face.
You shook your head, “No, it’s not.” Your voice was broken and hard, your face red from frustration as tears continued to spill from your eyes. “I don’t- I can’t care or want to care,”
He continued to stroke your head, whispering soft words to comfort you as he pressed soft kisses to your face. “It’ll all be okay, I promise.”
You continued to shake your head, closing your eyes. “How do you know?”
He pressed a long kiss to your forehead, standing from where he kneeled, he moved around the bed before you could blink, wrapping himself around you, his face nuzzling in your neck, as he pressed soothing kisses to your face and neck. “Dyanna went through the same with Aegon,” he began. You slowly turned, burying yourself in his chest as he spoke, “The Maester at Summerhall, Maester Bramwell”, he began, your eyes locking with his, “I summoned him from the citerdell after Egg’s birth. He can help you.” you closed your eyes, keeping your head buried in his chest, “i promise this feelings will pass,”
All you could do was pray he was right, pray that whatever Mesater Bramwell did with Dyanna would work with you. But still, even as Maekar spoke and reassured you that what you were feeling was normal, and that everything would be okay, that voice in your head still spoke to you, it would be easier if you died, it would be easier for Daenys, for everyone if you were dead.
You hated yourself, hated your thoughts. Hated how you flinched when the doors to your hcmabers opened, for fear it was Daneys. Your daughter. You hated how you dreaded the thought of being in the same room as her.
Food was placed beside Maekar, wordless conversation between them.
Makear spoke your name, his hand soothing down your back as he urged you to look up at him, “You need to eat.”
You shook your head, “I don’t want to.” his hand gripped your chin, stopping you from burying yourself in his chest once more. He scooted away, spitting up on the bed and reaching to pull you up with him.
He sighed, “You haven’t eaten.”
“I'm not hungry,” you shook your head. It wasn’t a lie, you hadn’t felt the want or need to eat in days.
He shook his head, urging you to sit up straight, as he reached for the food at his bedside, “We leave for Summerhall on the morrow, you need your strength,” he broke a piece of bread, holding it in front of you until you took it and began to slowly eat. “Lord Jasper has gifted us another carriage, Daenys and Winn shall ride in one, and you and I shall ride in the other” You nodded, grateful that you would not be stuck with your daughter. A hateful thought. Guilt ate at you, hatred for yourself, and how you were feeling.
Makear paced back and forth as Baelor spoke, his eyes darting to the door as if you would suddenly gain the will to leave bed and join him. A request he knew you would ignore, but he hoped you would join him nonetheless.
“We are to avoid Kingslanding,” Baelor spoke, his eyes focused on the letter from their father, “ the sickness has spread across the kings road,” he stopped his eyes dropping, “Valarr and Matarays have…they have come down with the sickness, father bids me to go straight to Dragonstone, he also bids you-”
“I will not keep her away from our home longer than necessary.” his voice was firm.
“I know, I told Father the same when I sent my reply,” Baelor swallowed roughly.
Maekar's firm gaze softened slightly at the sight of his brother reading the letter over and over again, “I am sure they will be fine.” his hand came to Baelor's pack, rubbing his back in reassurance. Valarr had only left a moon ago, eager to see his wife, and neither he nor Baelor saw the point in staying in the Vale, a fact Baelor was now no doubt regretting.
He nodded, “As will your wife,” he smiled softly, though Maekar could see the fear in his eldest brother's eyes. “fathers hand writing is shaky,” Maekar hummed in acknowledgement, reading the letter that lay on the table from lord Stark, more talk of ironborn raids. “You don't think father has it?” Maekar asked slowly.
“He would have said”, Baelor dismissed, his eyes turning to the letter in Maekar's hands. A part of the reason they had agreed to send Aerion north was to check the state of the north, many raids and attacks had caused reason for concern. A prince, even Aerion, being housed in the north, could help stop whatever the ironborn were plotting.
Maekar's eyes flickered over to Baelor, the letter placedon thee table as he thought of all the things their father, or more the king. Had kept from them before. “Father wouldn’t, not if it would cause us concern, and you to return to Kingslanding.”
A deep sigh fell from Baelor's lips. “We will- I will, abide by father's orders to go to Dragonstone. You to Summerhall,” he spoke, “We need to avoid the King's Road. I know you procured the second carriage, but I believe it's best we travel by boat, less interaction, less risk of infection.”
Makear sighed, whipping his hand down his face in frustration, “fuck sake, I hate the sea.”
“I am afraid this is a command, not a suggestion, and the journey will take less time, a week perhaps two” Baelor patted Maekar’s back, moving to sit in his seat and reply to Lord Stark's letter, “ You should go see your wife. Ser Duncan has told me he saw her hovering outside the nursery.”
A frown settled on his face at Baelor's words, he left quickly after. After he had fed you, he had helped you to wash and dress, but you were still hardly in a state to leave your rooms, let alone want to.
His pace was brisk as he left the solar, passing maids and guards as they rushed to pack, preparing for the journey home. He hated travelling by boat, and knew you did too. Sea sickness cursed you both, the journey would be longer than needed, and yet the risk of losing you, losing his sons or daughter to the spring sickness, compelled him to listen to Baelros command.
They had first heard of the outbreak of spring sickness a couple of weeks earlier, and it had spread quickly. The roads to Summerhall were shut, no one was to enter or leave Summerhall. He wouldn't risk Daella and Rhae getting sick. You both already regretted not taking them to Ashford, spending close to a year away from them had hurt you all.
He was just grateful the sickness had yet to reach the Eyrie. Gods be good, they would make it to Gulltown in less than two days and could start the damned boat trip without a hitch.
“Wife,” Makear greeted, slowing his pace as he saw you standing in the doorway, your eyes locked on the wet nurse, Winn, with baby Daenys. He reached for you slowly, his hand rubbing your arms as he took in your frozen form. “What is it?”
“I wanted to see her,” you swallowed roughly, “but I can’t-” you looked to him, panic in your eyes. “I don’t want to hurt her.” Your hands pulled at your pink dress, a pink gown (a gown and colour you did not wish to wear, you felt so little like yourself, you did not wish for the happiness the colour pink gave you), pulling at a loose thread as you watched Winn smile at the baby.
“You won’t hurt her, “ he dismissed, moving to hold you to him. “You won't, I promise,” he forced you to look at him, blocking your vision of the nursery as he spoke to you. “You love her, you cared for all of last week and didn’t hurt her not once, I promise,”
“I know,” you breathed, locking eyes with him, “but I'm still scared,”
He pulled you against him, “Come, let us get ready to leave,” he walked you back to your chambers, his eyes flickering to the nursery, smiling softly at the sight of his daughter. “We are to travel by boat, the sickness has travelled across the Kingsroad, it is not safe to travel by land,” he explained as he walked. You grimaced at the thought of travelling by boat, and though you hated it, loathed the thought of being stuck in a boat, feeling helpless as your baby cried with no want to care for her or yourself.
You nodded at his words, “At least it will take less time.” Your voice lacked its usual warmth, devoid of emotion, and though Maekar could tell you were trying to look for positives, it pained him to see you lacking your joy. Your whole state had wounded him. He hated seeing you in pain, physically and mentally. He wished he could take your pain, your burdens and place them on himself. Allow you to live with only happiness and joy as he faced the harsh realities of the world.
He tried to smile, tried to meet your gaze with nothing but softness and love. But the pain and agony in your eyes were destroying him as much as you.
Dyanna had been the same with Aegon, lost in a world of sadness, a world of helplessness and want for nothing. Melancholia, the maester had called it, something many a person suffered with, many new mothers too. Dyanna had taken a year to feel herself again, a year Makear never wished for you to suffer through a year he never whsied for her to suffer. It had taken them three moons before they called for Maester Bromwell when it came to his late wife, he just hoped Bromwell could ease your melancholia faster than he had Dyanna.
The boat journey had been as dull as expected. Trapped in a wooden box filled to the brim with Taragaryen men. You had spent the last six days emptying your stomach over the side of the ship, eager to escape your husband's presence. You never thought the day would come when you longed to escape your husband and his caring presence. He had been extremely attentive, caring and relentless in making sure you were okay.
In truth, you felt little and nothing. Your days blurred, and you only left your bed when forced, or the sickness forced you to the deck.
You had avoided everyone like the plague. Baelor had been kind and eager to brighten your day with dinners and gifting you books he had thought you would enjoy. You had refused everything, no amount of your goodbrother's kindness could pull you out of the misery you felt, the guilt you felt over avoiding your own child.
You felt nothing but relief when you finally docked at Dragonstone and bid farewell to Baelor and his party, eager for the few days left before you would dock at Griffin’s Roost, weather permitting. The captain had reassured you of calm seas and fast winds, allowing for a short and quick journey, though that did little to calm the fear that came with passing through Shipbreakers Bay.
Makear had not been on your side since bidding his brother farewell, a grim look had been set on his face, a letter ruining what little good mood he had. A letter he had refused to show you. It had him holding onto you, more so than he typically did, as if he was scared you would disappear.
“What is it?” you asked, your voice wavering slightly as you watched the coast of Tarth disappear as you entered the dreaded waters of Shipbreakers Bay.
“Do not worry yourself, wife,” he said, squeezing your arm as he walked you to your chambers for supper.
You let out an irritable sigh. You had been easily irritable the last few days, whether it was from being stuck in a floating box with no escape, you did not know. It wasn’t like you to be irritated or frustrated. You had always been the type to find happiness in unlikely places. To look on the bright side, where others would rush to anger or irritation. You hated what you had become, hated that Maekar hated it too. Even if he would never admit it.
“No, tell me”, you insisted, freeing yourself from his grip.
He sighed, stopping in the hall as he pulled the letter from his pocket. He handed it to you, swallowing roughly as you pulled it from his grip.
To Maekar,
It is with a heavy heart that I write to you.
As you know, the Spring Sickness reached Kingslanding in the weeks that passed. The illness has been relentless in its pursuit, fast and deadly. And though some have recovered, I fear Valarr and Matarys have not been so lucky.
As I am sure Baelor told you, Valarr caught the sickness first and seemingly spread it through the keep. His wife, Kiera, caught it after him, and though she recovered, the same cannot be said for the child in her belly, nor her husband.
Valarr passed three days ago, Matarys just yesterday.
Father, too, had caught it, mother, too, though she is doing well enough that the maester believes she will recover. The same cannot be said for father. His age and affiliations seem to have caught up to him, and I loathe to say, but he has passed, just this morning.
I am well, as is Rhageal and his wife and children. It seems his wife had the sense to lock him and them all in their chambers when the sickness sprang. And though you call me mad for locking myself in my room with my books, it seemed doing so saved me.
I bid you come home when you can. Baelor will no doubt need you as his hand. I loathe the thought of him placing that task on me. Though lord rivers seems happy and all too eager to act as regent. The realm is in need of you, and Rhageal misses his favourite brother.
Aerys
“Oh, Makear,” you breathed, your hand falling to your chest. A rush of emotion overcame you. Your irritation is gone, and the feelings of grief washing over you. “I'm so sorry, we…why didn’t we stop a Dragonstone… the realm?” You struggled to get your words out.
“You come first,” he breathed, “your health, your mind, you always come first,” he breathed.
“But Baelor needs you-”
“You need me more,I do not care for duty when it puts you second”
Tears welled in your eyes, “I am so sorry,” you weren't sure what you were apologising for, and though you hoped you had aploigsed of rhis loss, a part of you was sure you were apologising for the person you had become. The person who hated herself, who feared her own child and for the effect it was having on him.
He pulled you to him, hugging you tight as tears fell from you both.
A moon had passed since your arrival at Summerhall, since Baelor had become king and a childless father.
The Targaryen children had fallen into the same routine as before, eager to include their newest sibling in their antics, even if she couldn’t lift her head yet.
Maekar had fallen into duties, dealing with Baelor's persistence to return to Kingslanding and be his hand. A task he longed for, a position he converted and yet he didn't want to force you to leave.
You had made some progress, though not the amount you wished for. You grew more and more frustrated each day. Wanting to wake up and feel the same as before. And though you no longer feared Daenys, you were still wary. Still sat and watched as Maekar and the wet nurse cared for her in your stead.
But at least you cared now, before you hadn’t thought her a nuisance, a fact you loathed yourself for every day. The memory of it making you flinch.
A moon of Maester Bromwell giving you tasks, little steps each day that at first you hated, now became a routine you relied on. Bromwell had been your greatest help, he listened and never judged, even when you judged yourself. Without him, you were sure you would have done something drastic by now.
Today, he gave you a new task, to hold your daughter. You were scared. You hadn’t held her since her first week, you were all but a stranger to her now. Maekar was holding her now, watching as you took slow steps into the nursery, your hands playing with the thread of your dress. You were wearing pink, a colour you refused to wear until today. Much to Maekar's disappointment. At this point, you were sure he loved you wearing pink more than you loved wearing it.
“Wife,” he greeted, smiling softly. You swallowed roughly, taking slow steps.
You had refused to pass the threshold until today. Maekra's eyes widened as you walked straight towards him. Your hands bunched in fists as you forced yourself closer.
“I want to hold her,” you forced out. You did, in truth, even if Maester Bromwell hadn’t told you to, you had been tiching to hold her for days, it was the fear that stopped you.
He smiled softly, his arms out as he presented her to you, “of course,”
You swallowed roughly, reaching for her. She cooed as you took her from the comfort of her father's arms. You forced a smile on your face as she settled into your arms, a forced smile that quickly became real as you looked at her. “She’s gotten so big,” you breathed, your eyes not leaving her once.
“She has, hasn't she,” he breathed, coming to stand beside you, stroking her head as you hold her to you.
“i’ve missed her so much,” you breathed, tears welling in your eyes, “I love you so much,” you reached down pressing kisses to her face. You cooed softly at her, not once letting go of her, even when she cried from hunger.
“Let me feed her,” Winn smiled, having arrived in time for Daenys' feeding, she reached for Daenys. You flinched back, your grip on her tightening.
“No,” you shook your head, stepping into Makear. “She’s mine,” you breathe, “I’ll feed her.”
“My lady, it has been a moon since you have, your milk-”
“My milk is fine, go!” you ordered, refusing to let Daenys go. You turned into makear, reaching for the front ties of your dress, “she’s mine, Maekar, she’s mine,” you repeated, over and over again, not letting her go even after she’d finished feeding, or fell asleep against you. Or as drifted asleep against Makear's arms. Not once did you let Daenys go. Only when Maekar took her from you and carried you off to bed.
You refused to let anyone other than Maekar or her siblings near her. Even when Maekar's duties forced him to kingsaldning. The entire journey, you only let Makear or Daeron take her from your arms. Daeron, being the oldest of seven, was rather good with her. A comfort to you and Maekar. In time, you started to allow your ladies to care for her, too. You had avoided them after the birth, though at Summerhall, you had (after Bromwell had tasked you with it) chosen to grow close with your ladies. Your cousins had arrived a few days after you had. A great help to your melocolia.
You weren’t sure where this overprotectiveness for her came from, where the need to have her in sight, in your arms, always came from.
Maester Bromwell had said it was a side effect of her type of melancholia. She felt better, her frustration and sadness now coming in phases, but her protectiveness over Daenys never once stopped. Even once they reached Kingslanding, and duties forced her to give the babe to ladies in waiting and back to Winn. You insisted Daenys be with you, if not in your arms, then in your eyesight. Daena was all too happy to watch your babe and follow you about. She was eager to please, and being around children most of her life made your protectiveness eased when handing over your daughter, even if only slightly.
Your ladies-in-waiting followed you around the keep, with your endless duties and tasks. With the no queen, you had been appointed to all the queen's duties. With your goodmother passing not long after her husband's, spring sickness and broken heart, the maester claimed.
Your duties were endless, though you found little room to complain, you liked being busy, even if it meant less time holding your little girl.
Today, the duties that took you to the small council, stuck listening to endless drones of men, as your daughter sat in nursery, no doubt missing her mother.
“My lady,” lord rivers directed his drones to you, “Any progress on your list's potential matches for the king?”
You snapped to Baleor, slwolwoing roughly as you stood, “I have, in fact, five ladies. I have purposely left out the great houses. I do believe it is best we not anger one by marrying another. “You moved your shoulders in discomfort, your breast swelling with milk. Phases of feeding then not feeding your daughter had caused breast milk to come at irregular times, including now, it seemed. You crossed your arms across your chest, “Lady Rowen, Lady Royce, Lady Caron, Lady Hightower, and lastly Lady Yornwood. “You felt the bloodraven's eyes on you, assessing you closely, his eyes darting to your chest, “I believe Lady Rowen or Yornwood would be the best fit-” you were cut off with lord rivers coughing, his finger motioning to your breasts where milk leaked from your breasts.
Your face flushed, your hands reaching to desperately cover your breasts, Makear stood at the bloodravens, coughing at your panic. Your eyes flickered to him, panic in your eyes.
Baelor was speaking, thanking you for your suggestions and taking the list you had given him. But you paid him no mind, your eyes flickering to the door as you took your leave in hurried steps. Maekar following close behind you.
“Wife,” he called, chasing you as you stormed up the hand tower. He called your name, pulling you to him as you tore the door of their chambers open. You collapsed into him, weeping into his chest, your breath heavy.
” Did he have to embarrass me like that?” you wept, falling to the floor, and Maekar with you as you cried, “he invited me! He insisted I come! Was it just to do that?”
“My love, it's okay,” he cooed, rocking you to him, “he is cruel, it is the nature of bastards” he stroked your hair, pressing kisses to your head as you cried, “let it out, wife, I'm here” You both knew you were crying for more than the embarrassment. You were crying for everything, the month spent hating your self and youir child. For the guilt that ate you alive, and the sadness that never seemed to leave you. You had cried so much over the past month, but not once had you wept and let your feelings spill out.
Maekar whispered soft words into your hair, holding you to him as you wept months of fear, grief and angst into him.
late night thoughts while fighting my sleep meds… featuring maekar and his young wife desperate for a baby - 18+
helllaaaaaaa breeding kink in this one ngl. fem!reader wants a baby real bad and maekar is more than happy to give it to her. can you tell i’m down bad for an older man with a breeding kink? if not lmk and i’ll try and make it clearer in my writings.
maekar with his controversially young new wife. he had already fathered six unruly children and closed the door on wanting anymore. he wrongfully assumed his new wife would be content in step mothering his brood, witnessing their antics and not wanting her own womb tainted with his blood.
he couldn’t have been more wrong. two moons passed since your wedding night and you were left unencumbered of an heir of your own. whenever your husband lay with you, not once had he managed to leave you with a quickening womb.
you had never been married before, never knew the details of sex or breeding. you had been told to lay yourself bare and take what is given to you and you would be with child. so naturally it made sense that you never put together that you wouldn’t be with child if your husband never finished inside of you. an act you never knew was the only way to get you pregnant.
maekar adored you. the warm smile you always adorned, especially when dealing with his children, the levelheaded disposition that contrasted him so greatly. he wanted to give you the world, anything your heart desired, the definition of if he could he would.
until you told him your want of a child born from your own blood.
it was a whispered confession during the hour of the nightingale. you both found yourself awake and had taken to spooning on your marital bed, maekar’s hand running up and down your side soothingly, seemingly lulling you back to sleep, but you wouldn’t let yourself rest until you finally spoke your truth.
“darling?” you had his full attention at that, it was one of his greatest weaknesses.
he hummed in response.
“i wish to confess to you. i’m afraid i have disappointed you.”
his hand paused at your hip, fingers glowing warmly as they pressed into the plush flesh underneath your nightgown.
“all this time, this joyous time of being your wife, and i have failed in arguably my most important duty,” you paused to turn in his hold to face him, “my womb lay empty husband. if the fault is with me my apologies will never be enough, i hasten to the maester once a week to check if my fortune changes but it hasn’t yet.”
maekar sighed.
“i so deeply long for a babe. rhae is almost seven now, the halls have been depleted of a young one for so long now, and i crave a child of my own, of our own to bring up.”
he wasn’t quite sure what to say. he was wrong in assuming you did not know or understand you never would become a mother of your own with the way he took you to bed. it wasn’t something you both discussed, but maekar made the assumption that you wanted it this way.
having to explain that the fault was not with you but with him and his assumptions was one of the hardest things he had ever done. he knew he’d be breaking your soft heart.
“sweet girl… never have you, nor ever will you disappoint me,” he brought his hand up to your face to rub his thumb along your cheek, “the failure is mine own.”
your brow creased in confusion before he rubbed it away, you were too young and beautiful to have wrinkles because of him.
“of all the times we have lain together, i restrained myself from finishing in you. an act i thought to be a mercy.”
“but why? does that matter?”
he sighed deeply before silently cursing the septa who taught you about sex.
“yes it does. one cannot have a child without their husband finishing inside of them. that is what makes the babe, not just the act itself.”
“but… i don’t understand maekar. why haven’t you been giving me your babies all this time?”
he cursed yet again. “i was under the impression that one would wish to not be put under the stress caused by my heredity. i thought i was doing you a kindness.”
you scoffed. “a kindness? truly? you, you, silly man have not given me a child because you assumed i would not care for a child sired by you?”
“well-”
“have i not proven myself a worthy mother in the ways i have treated your children?”
yes but-”
“do you not desire another child to love and whom loves you?”
“yes-no, damn it woman! i wish only to see you at ease and happy.”
then give me what i want, husband.”
a sweet smile stretched across your lips as your leg raised up, finding rest at his hip. your warm sex so loosely covered now pressed right up against his own hardening cock.
“i’ve been so dutiful to you, all my care has been poured out, i lay myself bare to you and only ask you give me one thing in return. please darling, i ache for you to fill me.”
any last resolve maekar had melted away at your words. he was a man who loved to please his wife, how could he refuse her now?
until the sun rose that morning, maekar had you in every way imaginable.
he started with you underneath him, your legs clamped snuggly around his waist as he drove into you softly but relentlessly, pouring his devotion onto you.
“sweet girl, my perfect girl, i shall give you whatever you desire, i vow it here and now.”
the first spillage into you was a delightful shock. there was always a large spend pooled onto your belly or back after love making, but feeling it explode inside of you for the first time was a high you will forever chase.
quickly after his first climax he hastened to change your position, not wanting to risk his seed not taking because the position was faulty.
he put you onto your belly with your backside elevated just so, allowing him to plow into you and reach as deep as he could go every time.
this time when he came, his face was in your neck, breathing in the faint rose petals from your bath several hours prior, and losing himself in your presence.
his thrusts turned sharp and harsh the closer he got, spurred on by your whines and whimpers. he only relented in stuffing you full of another load when he heard you begging into the pillow.
“what was that?” he picked your head up delicately.
“g-god’s be good mae-mae,” you couldn’t be arsed to finish off his name, “give me more please? more, please, more.”
all coherent requests died down after your husband found your sweet spot in this new position and began crashing into it nonstop.
maekar was more than happy to let you babble nonsense into your pillow as he pumped you full, ensuring you climaxed before he did. it was a sure thing, he thought, that the guards outside the door would whisper about this evening to the maids on the morning duty when they arrived.
“one more sweet girl, hold on for one more hm?”
a strangled cry left your throat as your husband buried himself as deep as you would allow one final time, your cunt stretching to accommodate him and your belly filling with his seed once more.
it was a marvel really that you were still conscious when he pulled out of you. he knew you were awake due to the pitiful whine you let out when he removed himself.
at his withdrawal your ass lifted immediately, chasing his warmth and aching to be full again, the action causing a waterfall of his seed to gush out of you.
“seven hells hold still.” more whines came out as maekar did his best to scoop up the mess and shove it back inside of you. as he did so he recalled an old fisherman’s tale that if a woman climaxes during sex, it makes the likelihood of a babe being conceived stronger. and who was he to not further the likelihood even more.
with a finger still buried deep inside you to keep you stuffed and quiet your whimpers, maekar began to wiggle it, testing the waters to see if you could handle more pleasure.
his answer came when your legs began to shake and a long broken moan ripped from your lungs.
“gods, yes! yes, yes, more! moreeee”
if you weren’t currently floating away on a cloud made of sex you were sure to be embarrassed by your begging.
“i know, i know, hush now wife, let me take care of you.”
fifteen seconds passed before you were clamping down onto his finger, hardly allowing it to move as your orgasm rippled through you like an earthquake.
the walls were reverberating your screams, maekar’s other hand had to hold you down as your shaking turned into thrashing, and the sun crested as a mixture of both your orgasms dripped down your inner thighs.
grabbing his undershirt from the day prior, maekar sloppily cleaned up your thighs and his hand, knowing you were both about to sleep in a puddle of come as it dripped out of you for the next several hours. he couldn’t find it in himself to care and neither could you.
“i hope it’s a girl…”
yall… i am unwell. this was supposed to be shorter hence the bullet points but i am too tired to reformat so i hope you don’t mind. pls send me some requests in my ask inbox i am dying to fulfill your wishes much like our husband maekar.
featuring: baelor targaryen as professor!baelor, maekar targaryen as sugar daddy!maekar, and valarr targaryen as golden boy!valarr
warnings: slight descriptions of reader/3rd person (nationality, hairstyle, clothes) no smut or illusions but baelor and maekar a a little pervy if you squint (surprising no one).
a/n: this might be shit i had a hard time keeping it short because i didn’t wanna give too much away because there’s a chance i might write a series around this… i’ve also never written for valarr before so bare with me.
baelor is a professor at a prestigious university, teaching the history of law. after a couple of decades of practicing law, he retired into a teaching position.
baelor always tries to do what’s right. he married his college sweetheart because he cared for her and it was the right thing to do. he chose a career path that would bring his family pride and fulfill him. he raised his sons to be good men, chivalrous, kind, levelheaded, and driven.
he was a good man, he was the good man. people trusted him with everything and he was one of the youngest professors at his university to receive tenure.
all of his restraint went out the window when you walked into his lecture. you were late, your hair was curled albeit a little messy, you had on a sweater that was half hanging off of your shoulder and you wore two mismatched ugg boots. you were a mess frankly.
he got it though, he was young once, he knew what it was like to stay up all night studying and trudging to class in the morning. but he still couldnt help his attraction to you, even with your baby hairs sticking out wildly and a much too large coffee in your hands.
he wanted to take care of you. he wanted to help you do your laundry, cook you dinner, braid your hair to go to sleep in, help you succeed in your classes, and most of all he wanted to see just how innocent you were, and nothing was going to stop him.
“miss, if you could see me after class in my office please?”
“I’ve just been concerned for you, your assignments are often late and I wouldn’t want you to fall behind… you are always welcome to get work done in my office.”
“dear girl… have you been sleeping alright? i know your little dorm bed must be so uncomfortable. i always have a spare room in my home for you.”
“you mean so much to me darling. i know it frightens you but i wish to tell the world of my love for you.”
maekar is a CEO, an owner of a big company— either owning several businesses or something to do with finance, and he can’t help but be drawn to a struggling girl and offering her some sugar.
he saw her for the first time at his favorite restaurant in the city. she was a small thing really, just bopping around behind the bar, making and pouring drinks for the servers to bring to their tables.
all evening long he was hardly paying attention to the clients he was supposed to be discussing business with over dinner and drinks, she was all he could focus on. the way she lit up at every tip she got, the crease in her brow after a rush of customers would come to her, and giggles and jokes she shared with her co worker who stared a little too long at her ass.
he had to have her.
at the end of the meal he went up to the bar for a quick shot, something to give him an excuse to talk to her. she was absolutely oblivious to his advances. granted his advances were a little rough around the edges. he hadn’t dated or courted a woman since his wife passed years ago.
at the end of the interaction it was clear he was getting no where, so he settled on leaving her a $600 tip and went on his way, vowing to return everyday until she was his.
“thank you sweet girl, your presence after a long day eases any suffering.”
“if you’ll let me, i wish nothing more than to take care of you.”
“is that all? i’m buying you a new wardrobe and all you’ve managed to pick out is one dress and a pair of fluffy socks…”
“i need you here damn it. call out of work, hell quit your job and i will support you but i need you here with me now. check your account and call your boss, you’re not going in today.”
valarr is the picture perfect golden boy. he’s an undergrad studying either business or political science while also maintaining his role as captain of the football team. he has all the resources of the world at his fingertips, generational wealth and privilege beyond belief, and he manages to remain the good young man his father raised.
his life was picture perfect. he had a wonderful albeit chaotic family, his classes were going perfectly, and he had a beautiful girlfriend, his high school sweetheart.
but one day, a new student came to class, a young woman from america studying abroad. and she got under his skin like no other.
she was loud, unapologetic, opinionated, and it seemed everywhere he turned, there she was. in almost all of his lectures, sitting in his favorite spot in the library, taking the last croissant at the cafe on campus, he even found her playing chess (and winning) with his father at the staff and student mixer!
for months, all he would talk about was her. anyone who would listen would get an earful of his complaints for the brash american he couldn’t stand. the admittedly rather beautiful american.
after a while everyone got sick of it, his girlfriend left him, for she could see, even if he couldn’t, that he was falling for her.
“honestly kiera she is the most insufferable woman i have ever met. have you seen the way she struts around campus?”
“if i could i’d have her shipped back to america before boxing day.”
“of course i don’t like her! how could i ever like such an obnoxious person. yeah she’s beautiful i can admit the way her eyes twinkle in the sunlight is mesmerizing but she’s entirely too much.”
“for fucks sake, how could she even think about going out with daeron, doesn’t she know he’s my cousin? how could she do that to me?”
I just read ur whole ex situation and ur an actual VICTIM?!!! The fact that when u contacted him out of sheer kindness, he literally dumped his fucking love life on u? wtf I’m actually raging!!?? He’s so fucking manipulative girl I’m telling u I have heard of such men and they go to all ends just to make yall keep thinking about them ! Even if they have to lie! The fact that saying he did those things with a man puts u in such a godawful place where u have to question ur morals and wether what u feel is hate for him or homophobia over all but GIRL u gotta try to come out of this spiral! I know it’s hard! But u will thank urself!!!
I really really hope u can find peace and comfort within urself! Ur so such better than him and this spiral he’s trying to put u in! U R LOVED !! U R LOVED AND APPRECIATED!! U gotta snap back and lock in!!! U got this!! U will not think about the past rather the beautiful future that awaits u!!
speak on it 😮💨 definitely feeling much better than last week! ive got a couple drafts almost ready to post so be on the look out
thinking about being in a throuple with baelor and maekar. maekar has never been very touchy or physically affectionate. baelor was his mother’s favorite afterall so hugs and cuddles were typically reserved for him.
but you… every chance you got you were touching him in some way. leaning in close to tell him about the horse you fed a carrot to, groping his arms so casually because you love to feel how strong your husband is, never leaving the room without hugging him, needing to fall asleep on top of him or have him bear hugging you.
it was entirely new and he wasnt sure how to handle it. these things came more naturally to baelor, he was always receptive to your hugs and cuddles, returning them warmly.
gods forbid you both gang up on him. he never sees it coming, usually it comes in the quiet mornings you spend in your shared chambers, or busy afternoons with the family in the solar, or even alone in his stufy while he’s trying to work.
one moment he’s enjoying his personal space and the next he has his brother at his back, hands wrapping around his waist and head resting on his shoulder, breathing maekar in by the skin of his neck. and you come nuzzling up next, placing your chin on his chest, gazing doe eyes staring up at him with love, your arms coming up to rest on his chest as you then leave little kisses wherever you can.
it was torture. there was no way the two of you didn’t know how it made him feel. it was overwhelming and foreign to him and besides the affections he seldom gave to his children, this was all new to him. he wasn’t sure where to put his hands or how tight to squeeze. the smell of your perfumes filled him and it was like he was stuck in a sandwich of love he didn’t know what to do with.
“what the fuck are you two doing… get off me”
“no.” you both answered him at once.
“no? i wasn’t asking, go hug each other and leave me be.”
“you are more than capable of shaking us off brother, surely you are enjoying yourself if you haven’t removed us by now.”
maekar could feel the smug grin of his brother and the demure smile on your face as he accepted his fate.
he had married the most physically affectionate people in the realm, and gods help him he was starting to love it.
Wait can I actually ask for the details about the situation with your ex?
yes u can buckle up 🩷 do not proceed if you are not in the proper state to hear about mental vulnerability
so basically to set the scene; i broke up with my ex last december because of his incapability to express any attraction to me or love or vulnerability. towards the end it was very one sided and i was splitting multiple times a week, very bad for my mental. also important to note he was in the army.
our breakup was the catalyst for me spiraling into a relapse of unhealthy behavior, lost 30 pounds, got super dark for a while and am only now, over a year later recovering.
flash forward to a couple days ago i shot him a message to make sure he was ok because since he was infantry in the army, i was worried ab him because of the war with iran (fuck trump btw i do not stand with/for the political/abhorrent actions of my unfortunate president).
he confirmed he was good and not going to be brought back in and asked if he could vent to me about something. i immediately felt sick to my stomach thinking he was gonna dump about his new gf or some fuck shit. it was much worse.
he confessed that since august (when we talked ab getting back together mind you), him and his gay best friend have been getting very close, very close.
he went into deep and descriptive detail about their intimacy (physical and emotional, something he never did with me), as well as all of the sexual aspects he’s been engaging in. fully telling me about rubbing each others dicks.
its also important to note that i am pansexual, have no issue with him exploring/finding himself and living his truth, if he had simply come out to me i would be so happy for him. instead he had to tell me all about the amazing sex he’s having with his gay best friend.
because imagine if he had been telling me this shit about his girl best friend like id still be devastated but since its a man its making me feel guilty because it feels like im being homophobic but i know im not.
after his confession i freak the fuck out because how the fuck are you gonna tell me all about your newfound happiness; literally said to me “im the happiest ive ever been” and not expect me to crash out.
for months, and months, and months, i tried desperately to feel loved, wanted, desired, etc from him and failed every time, he ignored me for hours to talk to his friends and would admit to me that he’d rather talk to his friends since we dont talk anyway on the phone (he refused to start a convo)
so to hear all of this it made me reflect so hard on our relationship and just how much he obviously didnt want me. he also confessed that he shouldnt have been in a relationship, how he didnt want to be in one, and after realizing how bad of a boyfriend he was he stayed anyway but just shut down and stopped trying to make it work.
so i really feel a lot of betrayal and worthlessness atm. theres probably more from our convo im forgetting but i made myself not just bloke him but delete his contact so i wouldnt keep beating a dead horse in trying to make him hurt as much as i was because i didn’t want to go low.
but yeah that’s the story time, every time i think about him and his new man i get physically ill and legitimately almost throw up, crying a lot, and have hardly been able to eat. so in the end he won yet again in making me feel like utter shit but im doing my best to move on 🥲
if anyone has a similar experience to this lmk how you got through it because i am struggling to grasp onto stability rn lowkey
