pairing: jacaerys velaryon x stark!reader, stark!reader x oc!guard! daniel
series word count: 6.2k (wip)
summary: you’re the only daughter of rickon stark, the warden of the north. when he bends the knee to queen rhaenyra, he plans on keeping that vow… but then, aegon ii usurps the throne and the crown prince, jacaerys velaryon, comes to winterfell to secure the north’s allegiance to the queen. your father intends to offer your hand in marriage to prince jace, as he is unaware that you are in love with daniel, your childhood friend and guard… until you meet jacaerys in person, and everything turns on its head.
warnings: emotional infidelity (kinda), reader and daniel are not in an established relationship but they love each other and those feelings create tension, eventual smut, 18+ only.
note: reader, daniel and jace are all 18+! in this fic aegon has usurped the throne, but i’m changing canon a bit to keep rickon stark alive, making him warden of the north when jace flies to winterfell to create the pact of ice and fire. i am keeping that the pact included jace wedding rickon’s daughter, only in this fic it isn’t bastard sara snow, but a legitimate daughter of rickon and gilliane. oc!daniel’s face claim is daniel wagner from greta van fleet, and the fanfic title is the name of one of their songs <33 collage made by me, pics are from pinterest, if they’re yours then fullll creds to you!! if the pacing of this fic seems fast, note that the realm is at war. things are going to be moving fast, and decisions will be made hastily, and characters may often act rash at certain moments. i promise though, the pay-off will be worth it. any negative comments can be kept to yourself 🖤
pairing: jacaerys velaryon x stark!reader, stark!reader x guard!oc! daniel
you can find the masterlist here!
summary: you’re the only daughter of rickon stark, the warden of the north. when he bends the knee to queen rhaenyra, he plans on keeping that vow… but then, aegon ii usurps the throne and the crown prince, jacaerys velaryon, comes to winterfell to secure the north’s allegiance to the queen. your father intends to offer your hand in marriage to prince jace, as he is unaware that you are in love with daniel, your childhood friend and guard… until you meet jacaerys in person, and everything turns on its head.
word count: 2.9k.
warnings: slightly emotional infidelity again, reader wants to have her cake and eat it too but also feels insanely guilty about it, a lot of emotion in this part. ANGST!!! mention of lucerys being attacked but i kept him alive bc i make the rules here! a KISS???? a kinda cliffhanger ending. 18+ only, smut in future parts.
note: i’m having so much fun writing this! thanks for all the likes and reblogs on the first part! 🖤 pacing in this fic is incredibly fast and you may get whiplash from the readers erratic behavior. stick with it — i promise it all pays off in the end. there is a lot more to come with this work. everything you’re reading will make sense if you stick with it.
dawn did not bring the quiet shift of the guard you had prayed for. instead, it brought a horn blast from the watchtowers that shattered the early morning stillness. just after, you heard the unmistakable, heavy thud of massive talons hitting the stone of the courtyard.
before you and daniel could even clear the servant’s corridor beneath the great hall, cregan’s voice boomed through the lower levels, barking orders to the household guard.
“the dragon is restless!” daniel hissed, pulling you into the shadow of a stone archway. his hand was a vice around your wrist, his eyes wide with sudden panic. “the targaryen boy is already up. he’s in the courtyard. the yard is crawling with men, we can’t get to the stables without someone seeing.”
“he is a prince, daniel. not a boy.”
your heart hammered against your ribs. through the narrow slits, you could see vermax. the dragon wasn’t just waking. he was agitated, snapping his jaws as smoke curled lazily from his nostrils. your father and cregan were already down there, cloaked in their heavy furs and trying to keep the northern horses from throwing their riders in terror.
“go back to your chambers,” daniel whispered urgently. his thumb brushed over your knuckles one last time. “we will have to wait for nightfall. we have no choice, once again.”
you didn’t have time to answer before he slipped away into the morning, leaving you to scramble back up the winding stairs to your room. you made it back just before a handmaiden knocked to dress you for the morning breaking of bread.
—
an hour later, your father requested your presence. he did not summon you to the great hall, but to the high wooden battlements overlooking the outer yard.
when you stepped out into the crisp air, you expected to see your father or cregan. instead, you found jacaerys standing alone by the stone parapet.
he had once again discarded his formal doublet for a simpler, dark leather riding coat lined with thick northern wolf fur. it had to have been a gift from cregan, no doubt. the wind was caught in his dark untamed curls, pulling them away from his face. in the harsh, blinding light of the winter sun, you found your breath catching in your throat. up close, without the dim candlelight of the feast or the shadows of the godswood, he was striking. the sharp lines of his jawline, the deep color of his eyes, and the sheer grace with which he carried himself made him look less like a distant political concept and more like... a man. a very handsome, tempting and captivating man.
a sudden flutter of butterflies erupted in your stomach, so intense it made you feel momentarily lightheaded.
“your father and brother are with the stablemasters,” jace said, turning his head as you approached him. a warm smile instantly broke across his face, melting the serious expression he usually wore. “they are trying to convince the northern garrisons that my companion downstairs doesn’t intend to eat them.”
“vermax does seem rather spirited today, my prince— sorry, jace,” you corrected yourself softly, stepping up to the stone ledge beside him.
“perhaps he smells the tension in this castle,” jace murmured, his gaze dropping to your face. he stepped a fraction closer. “or perhaps he simply senses that the lady of winterfell is harboring secrets.”
your heart skipped a beat. you forced your expression to remain neutral, though your hands shook beneath your sleeves. “i assure you, i have no secrets from the crown.”
“is that so?” jace asked, his voice dropping an octave, becoming low and intimate. he was teasing you, and you were enjoying it too much. he reached out, his bare hand gently covering yours where it rested on the cold stone. his skin was incredibly warm, sending a jolt of electricity straight up your arm. “because last night, i asked what you wanted… and today, i find myself caring less about the pact of ice and fire, and much more about the answer you didn't give me.”
“i did answer you, my prince. i said i—“
“you said you used to want peace. you did not tell me what you want currently.”
you inhaled a slow shaky breath before answering. the sheer warmth of his hand over yours is like a physical weight, pulling you away from the safety of everything you have ever known.
“you ask dangerous questions, my prince,” you exhaled, your voice cracking slightly. you’ve made no move to pull your hand away, but your fingers tremble beneath his.
“i have targaryen blood running through my veins,” jace replies softly, his gaze steady on yours. “danger is a familiar friend. tell me the truth. please.”
you look away from him, casting your gaze down into the snowy courtyard where the shapes of northern soldiers move like ants. among them, you can easily pick out the broad shoulders of daniel who is now tending to the horses, his movements rigid and tense. the guilt hits you like a physical blow. it feels heavy and suffocating.
“i am having a difficult time,” you admit, the confession tearing out of your throat. you look back up at jace, your eyes welling with a hot tears. “because there is someone else. a guard, daniel. i know you already noticed, you mentioned it last night.”
jace’s expression doesn’t harden, but a stillness settles over him. his thumb stops its gentle tracing against your knuckles, but he doesn’t let go.
“he has been my anchor for as long as i can remember,” you continue, the honesty spilling out of you now that the dam has broken. “he loves me, and i love him. we had... we had plans. a quiet life, away from the walls of this castle. we were going to run away.”
you swallow hard, tears finally slipping down your cheeks. “but then, the sky tore open. you arrived, and… a future with you... a life by your side, jace... it intrigues me. it excites me in a way that terrifies me to my bones.”
jace continues to watch you intently, the intensity in his dark eyes shifting from curiosity to something deeply profound.
“i feel an agonizing guilt just sitting here weighing my options,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “he is downstairs right now believing in a future we promised each other, and i am looking at you, and i feel as though i have already betrayed him just by second guessing it, by wanting a different destiny. by even thinking of wanting you.”
the silence that follows is heavy. you wait for the prince’s pride to flare, for him to be insulted that a highborn lady is comparing a prince of the realm to a common guard.
instead, jace steps even closer, completely closing the distance between you. he lifts his other hand, his warm fingers gently capturing your chin, tilting your face up so you have no choice but to look at him.
“you think less of yourself for having a heart that wants more than one thing,” jace says, his voice incredibly gentle, laced with a maturity that you hadn’t expected. “you have spent your whole life trapped inside this ice, told exactly who you are supposed to be. now, the realm is wide open to you. it is not a betrayal to realize you are capable of a grander fate.”
he looks down at your lips for a fraction of a second before bringing his eyes back to yours. “i will not force you to break a vow of the heart. i will not apologize for wanting you, either. i know we’ve only met, but your grace and your passion captivates me.”
the proximity and the intoxicating contrast of the warmth of his gaze against the biting northern air pulls at something deeply buried inside you. you are trapped between the life you knew and the terrifying allure of the fire before you. without another thought, you lean in.
jace meets you halfway.
the kiss is brief but burning. it is a sudden, desperate clash of ice and fire that leaves your head spinning and butterflies blooming under your ribs. it is an acknowledgment of a spark you can no longer deny.
his lips move softly against yours, and you find your fingers itching to tangle into his dark curls. when he pulls back his breath hitches, and his eyes are darker than before.
before you can speak again, the heavy click of armor sounds at the top of the battlement stairs.
you pull back instinctively, your heart hammering against your ribs. standing at the entrance of the walkway, holding a rolled parchment, is daniel.
his face is entirely drained of color. he looks down at your hand, which jace has only just released. daniel’s jaw is set so tightly a small tremor runs through his cheek, and the sheer pain in his eyes tells you everything you need to know.
he heard you, or at least some of what was said. he saw you kissing jacaerys.
“my lady,” daniel says, his voice hoarse as he tries to compose himself. he forces himself to look at jace, bowing stiffly. “prince jacaerys. lord stark requests your presence in the solar immediately. ravens from dragonstone have arrived.”
jace nods politely and begins to head toward the solar, but you stay back a few paces. daniel sharply turns to leave too, but you reach out to close your fingers around his wrist.
“daniel, wait,” you breathe, exhaling sharply. the words feels heavy exiting your mouth. it feels like desperate attempt to catch a falling glass before it shatters onto stone.
daniel doesn’t look at you. instead he steps aside, his posture stiffening into the perfect form of a castle guard. “i have orders, my lady. the lord warden expects you both without delay.”
“daniel, please, just listen to me—“ you plead, but he pulls away from your touch as if it burned him.
“i am a guard of winterfell, lady stark,” he cuts in, his voice dropping into an icy cadence that cuts deeper than any shout. when he finally looks at you, his eyes are dead and hollow, and stripped of the warmth that had been your sanctuary for years. “i have work to get on with. the horses require tending. move along.”
the rejection is a physical ache in your chest. he isn’t just angry. he is closing the door. he is giving you exactly what you confessed to wanting, what he wasn’t supposed to hear. he is giving you the space to choose a different destiny.
jace watches the exchange silently, his eyes tracking the raw pain passing between the two of you. he doesn’t offer a smug smile or a triumphant glance. there is a somber understanding in his expression. he knows the cost of duty all too well.
with a final tight nod to you, daniel turns on his heel and descends the stone steps. the heavy clank of his boots sounds like a funeral march for the life you had planned together.
“come,” jace says softly, his voice gentle. he doesn’t try to touch you this time, instead giving you the space to breathe. “let us see what my mother’s ravens bring.”
swallowing down the lump of grief in your throat, you lift the heavy skirts of your gown and follow jace down the covered walkway. when you enter your father’s solar, the atmosphere is suffocatingly tense. lord rickon stark stands by the narrow window with a piece of dark parchment clutched in his fist. cregan is there too, silent and with his hand resting on the pommel of his sword.
your father turns, and his grim face looks like it could have been carved from the very stone of the castle.
“prince jacaerys,” rickon speaks, his voice flat. “there has been a tragedy involving your brother, lucerys. your mother requests you back to dragonstone immediately.”
jace goes rigid beside you, the color draining from his face as his eyes widen with dread.
“injured?” jace repeats, his voice tight. his gaze demands the truth from your father.
“the raven says he was attacked over shipbreaker bay, but he and arrax managed to escape into the cliffs,” rickon answers heavily. “he lives, my prince, but the dragons are flying. the war has begun.”
your father looks at you, his stern gaze softening just a fraction, but his words remain an absolute command. “the terms of the pact of ice and fire are sealed. you will not be wed here in the snow. you will fly south with the prince. today.”
the words crash over you. today. everything you hoped you had time to figure out is being ripped away. your heart hammers in your ears as you look between your father’s strong gaze and jace’s sudden panic.
“father, please,” you whisper, stepping back. your voice is trembling. “it is all happening too fast. i am unsure… i need just a moment to gather my things and to breathe.”
your father sighs, the harsh lines of his face deepening, but he nods once. “one hour. the dragon must take flight before the midday sun is lost to the clouds.”
you don’t wait for jace to speak. you turn on your heel and flee the solar, your heavy velvet skirts sweeping against the cold floor as you run to find daniel. you don’t care about the whispers of the servants. you run down the winding stairs, straight toward the secondary stables, the quiet ones where the guard horses are kept, sure that’s exactly where he will be.
you find daniel in the dim gloom of a stall. he isn’t working frantically anymore. he’s leaning against the wooden post with his head bowed, his broad shoulders shaking with ragged breaths.
“daniel,” you gasp, leaning against the stall door to catch your breath.
he flinches at the sound of your voice but doesn’t look up. the silence between you is agonizing.
“daniel, please look at me,” you plead with him, stepping inside. “my father is sending me away. today. prince lucerys velaryon was attacked, the war is starting, and i’m supposed to fly south with jace today.”
daniel lets out a bitter, broken laugh that sounds more like a sob. he finally raises his head, and your heart breaks at the sight of his face. his eyes are red and pooled with tears he refuses to let fall and his expression is entirely shattered.
“today,” he echoes, his voice cracking. he steps toward you, but there is no anger in his stride. you see only hurt. “so that’s it then? you’re just going to leave?”
“i don’t know what to do!” you cry, tears spilling over your cheeks. “everything is spinning, i am so confused—“
“confused?” daniel asks, his voice trembling as he shakes his head. “when your father first told you that you were being sent to dragonstone, before the prince set foot in winterfell… i came to your chambers and you were furious with me. you wept in my arms and asked me how i could just agree to it. you looked at me like i was a coward for not fighting for us, for playing the loyal hound instead of protecting our relationship.”
a fresh wave of guilt hits your chest, making it hard to breathe. you try to suck in a shaky breath, wheezing as you did so.
“and now?” daniel whispers, a single tear finally rolling down his cheek. he gestures vaguely toward the courtyard, and then toward the battlements where you stood with jace. “now you’re doing the exact same thing. worse, even. i was trying to save my head so we could run away together, but you… you look at him, you kiss him and you just let the tide take you. you’re handing yourself over to them, and you’re not even fighting for us anymore.”
“daniel, that’s not fair, i love you—“
“then stay!” he pleads, his voice dropping into a desperate whisper as he steps closer. his hands hover near yours but he doesn’t touch you. “tell your father no. run into the woods with me right now! i’d bet you won’t, because a part of you wants the dragon prince. you want the crown. you called me a coward for obeying your father, but you’re ready to get on that beast’s back willingly.”
“daniel…” you reach out, your fingers trembling, trying to find his hand. the sheer weight of his words leaves you completely frozen.
before either of you can say another word, the heavy wooden door of the stable creaks open, letting in a sudden burst of freezing air.
you turn sharply to see jacaerys rounding the corner of the stall. his dark curls are windblown, and his face still carries the pale anxiety of the news about his brother. when he looks up his eyes are intensely focused on the two of you.
jace doesn’t look angry. he looks incredibly somber, stepping into the dim space with the quiet grace of a prince. he looks at your tear stained face, then at daniel’s broken posture, instantly reading the agonizing history written in the air between you.
“the hour is short,” jace says softly, his voice grounded and offering no judgment. it only carries the crushing reality of the world outside. “vermax is ready. it is time to choose which path you’ll take, my lady.”
divider by enchanthings. original work by me, jaacaerysvelaryon. do not copy, translate or repost. message me or reply if you want to be tagged in part three.
pairing: jacaerys velaryon x stark!reader, stark!reader x oc!guard! daniel
series word count: 6.2k (wip)
summary: you’re the only daughter of rickon stark, the warden of the north. when he bends the knee to queen rhaenyra, he plans on keeping that vow… but then, aegon ii usurps the throne and the crown prince, jacaerys velaryon, comes to winterfell to secure the north’s allegiance to the queen. your father intends to offer your hand in marriage to prince jace, as he is unaware that you are in love with daniel, your childhood friend and guard… until you meet jacaerys in person, and everything turns on its head.
warnings: emotional infidelity (kinda), reader and daniel are not in an established relationship but they love each other and those feelings create tension, eventual smut, 18+ only.
note: reader, daniel and jace are all 18+! in this fic aegon has usurped the throne, but i’m changing canon a bit to keep rickon stark alive, making him warden of the north when jace flies to winterfell to create the pact of ice and fire. i am keeping that the pact included jace wedding rickon’s daughter, only in this fic it isn’t bastard sara snow, but a legitimate daughter of rickon and gilliane. oc!daniel’s face claim is daniel wagner from greta van fleet, and the fanfic title is the name of one of their songs <33 collage made by me, pics are from pinterest, if they’re yours then fullll creds to you!!
pairing: jacaerys velaryon x stark!reader, stark!reader x guard!oc! daniel
you can find the masterlist here!
summary: you’re the only daughter of rickon stark, the warden of the north. when he bends the knee to queen rhaenyra, he plans on keeping that vow… but then, aegon ii usurps the throne and the crown prince, jacaerys velaryon, comes to winterfell to secure the north’s allegiance to the queen. your father intends to offer your hand in marriage to prince jace, as he is unaware that you are in love with daniel, your childhood friend and guard… until you meet jacaerys in person, and everything turns on its head.
word count: 2.9k.
warnings: slightly emotional infidelity again, reader wants to have her cake and eat it too but also feels insanely guilty about it, a lot of emotion in this part. ANGST!!! mention of lucerys being attacked but i kept him alive bc i make the rules here! a KISS???? a kinda cliffhanger ending. 18+ only, smut in future parts.
note: i’m having so much fun writing this! thanks for all the likes and reblogs on the first part! 🖤 pacing in this fic is incredibly fast and you may get whiplash from the readers erratic behavior. stick with it — i promise it all pays off in the end. there is a lot more to come with this work. everything you’re reading will make sense if you stick with it.
dawn did not bring the quiet shift of the guard you had prayed for. instead, it brought a horn blast from the watchtowers that shattered the early morning stillness. just after, you heard the unmistakable, heavy thud of massive talons hitting the stone of the courtyard.
before you and daniel could even clear the servant’s corridor beneath the great hall, cregan’s voice boomed through the lower levels, barking orders to the household guard.
“the dragon is restless!” daniel hissed, pulling you into the shadow of a stone archway. his hand was a vice around your wrist, his eyes wide with sudden panic. “the targaryen boy is already up. he’s in the courtyard. the yard is crawling with men, we can’t get to the stables without someone seeing.”
“he is a prince, daniel. not a boy.”
your heart hammered against your ribs. through the narrow slits, you could see vermax. the dragon wasn’t just waking. he was agitated, snapping his jaws as smoke curled lazily from his nostrils. your father and cregan were already down there, cloaked in their heavy furs and trying to keep the northern horses from throwing their riders in terror.
“go back to your chambers,” daniel whispered urgently. his thumb brushed over your knuckles one last time. “we will have to wait for nightfall. we have no choice, once again.”
you didn’t have time to answer before he slipped away into the morning, leaving you to scramble back up the winding stairs to your room. you made it back just before a handmaiden knocked to dress you for the morning breaking of bread.
—
an hour later, your father requested your presence. he did not summon you to the great hall, but to the high wooden battlements overlooking the outer yard.
when you stepped out into the crisp air, you expected to see your father or cregan. instead, you found jacaerys standing alone by the stone parapet.
he had once again discarded his formal doublet for a simpler, dark leather riding coat lined with thick northern wolf fur. it had to have been a gift from cregan, no doubt. the wind was caught in his dark untamed curls, pulling them away from his face. in the harsh, blinding light of the winter sun, you found your breath catching in your throat. up close, without the dim candlelight of the feast or the shadows of the godswood, he was striking. the sharp lines of his jawline, the deep color of his eyes, and the sheer grace with which he carried himself made him look less like a distant political concept and more like... a man. a very handsome, tempting and captivating man.
a sudden flutter of butterflies erupted in your stomach, so intense it made you feel momentarily lightheaded.
“your father and brother are with the stablemasters,” jace said, turning his head as you approached him. a warm smile instantly broke across his face, melting the serious expression he usually wore. “they are trying to convince the northern garrisons that my companion downstairs doesn’t intend to eat them.”
“vermax does seem rather spirited today, my prince— sorry, jace,” you corrected yourself softly, stepping up to the stone ledge beside him.
“perhaps he smells the tension in this castle,” jace murmured, his gaze dropping to your face. he stepped a fraction closer. “or perhaps he simply senses that the lady of winterfell is harboring secrets.”
your heart skipped a beat. you forced your expression to remain neutral, though your hands shook beneath your sleeves. “i assure you, i have no secrets from the crown.”
“is that so?” jace asked, his voice dropping an octave, becoming low and intimate. he was teasing you, and you were enjoying it too much. he reached out, his bare hand gently covering yours where it rested on the cold stone. his skin was incredibly warm, sending a jolt of electricity straight up your arm. “because last night, i asked what you wanted… and today, i find myself caring less about the pact of ice and fire, and much more about the answer you didn't give me.”
“i did answer you, my prince. i said i—“
“you said you used to want peace. you did not tell me what you want currently.”
you inhaled a slow shaky breath before answering. the sheer warmth of his hand over yours is like a physical weight, pulling you away from the safety of everything you have ever known.
“you ask dangerous questions, my prince,” you exhaled, your voice cracking slightly. you’ve made no move to pull your hand away, but your fingers tremble beneath his.
“i have targaryen blood running through my veins,” jace replies softly, his gaze steady on yours. “danger is a familiar friend. tell me the truth. please.”
you look away from him, casting your gaze down into the snowy courtyard where the shapes of northern soldiers move like ants. among them, you can easily pick out the broad shoulders of daniel who is now tending to the horses, his movements rigid and tense. the guilt hits you like a physical blow. it feels heavy and suffocating.
“i am having a difficult time,” you admit, the confession tearing out of your throat. you look back up at jace, your eyes welling with a hot tears. “because there is someone else. a guard, daniel. i know you already noticed, you mentioned it last night.”
jace’s expression doesn’t harden, but a stillness settles over him. his thumb stops its gentle tracing against your knuckles, but he doesn’t let go.
“he has been my anchor for as long as i can remember,” you continue, the honesty spilling out of you now that the dam has broken. “he loves me, and i love him. we had... we had plans. a quiet life, away from the walls of this castle. we were going to run away.”
you swallow hard, tears finally slipping down your cheeks. “but then, the sky tore open. you arrived, and… a future with you... a life by your side, jace... it intrigues me. it excites me in a way that terrifies me to my bones.”
jace continues to watch you intently, the intensity in his dark eyes shifting from curiosity to something deeply profound.
“i feel an agonizing guilt just sitting here weighing my options,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “he is downstairs right now believing in a future we promised each other, and i am looking at you, and i feel as though i have already betrayed him just by second guessing it, by wanting a different destiny. by even thinking of wanting you.”
the silence that follows is heavy. you wait for the prince’s pride to flare, for him to be insulted that a highborn lady is comparing a prince of the realm to a common guard.
instead, jace steps even closer, completely closing the distance between you. he lifts his other hand, his warm fingers gently capturing your chin, tilting your face up so you have no choice but to look at him.
“you think less of yourself for having a heart that wants more than one thing,” jace says, his voice incredibly gentle, laced with a maturity that you hadn’t expected. “you have spent your whole life trapped inside this ice, told exactly who you are supposed to be. now, the realm is wide open to you. it is not a betrayal to realize you are capable of a grander fate.”
he looks down at your lips for a fraction of a second before bringing his eyes back to yours. “i will not force you to break a vow of the heart. i will not apologize for wanting you, either. i know we’ve only met, but your grace and your passion captivates me.”
the proximity and the intoxicating contrast of the warmth of his gaze against the biting northern air pulls at something deeply buried inside you. you are trapped between the life you knew and the terrifying allure of the fire before you. without another thought, you lean in.
jace meets you halfway.
the kiss is brief but burning. it is a sudden, desperate clash of ice and fire that leaves your head spinning and butterflies blooming under your ribs. it is an acknowledgment of a spark you can no longer deny.
his lips move softly against yours, and you find your fingers itching to tangle into his dark curls. when he pulls back his breath hitches, and his eyes are darker than before.
before you can speak again, the heavy click of armor sounds at the top of the battlement stairs.
you pull back instinctively, your heart hammering against your ribs. standing at the entrance of the walkway, holding a rolled parchment, is daniel.
his face is entirely drained of color. he looks down at your hand, which jace has only just released. daniel’s jaw is set so tightly a small tremor runs through his cheek, and the sheer pain in his eyes tells you everything you need to know.
he heard you, or at least some of what was said. he saw you kissing jacaerys.
“my lady,” daniel says, his voice hoarse as he tries to compose himself. he forces himself to look at jace, bowing stiffly. “prince jacaerys. lord stark requests your presence in the solar immediately. ravens from dragonstone have arrived.”
jace nods politely and begins to head toward the solar, but you stay back a few paces. daniel sharply turns to leave too, but you reach out to close your fingers around his wrist.
“daniel, wait,” you breathe, exhaling sharply. the words feels heavy exiting your mouth. it feels like desperate attempt to catch a falling glass before it shatters onto stone.
daniel doesn’t look at you. instead he steps aside, his posture stiffening into the perfect form of a castle guard. “i have orders, my lady. the lord warden expects you both without delay.”
“daniel, please, just listen to me—“ you plead, but he pulls away from your touch as if it burned him.
“i am a guard of winterfell, lady stark,” he cuts in, his voice dropping into an icy cadence that cuts deeper than any shout. when he finally looks at you, his eyes are dead and hollow, and stripped of the warmth that had been your sanctuary for years. “i have work to get on with. the horses require tending. move along.”
the rejection is a physical ache in your chest. he isn’t just angry. he is closing the door. he is giving you exactly what you confessed to wanting, what he wasn’t supposed to hear. he is giving you the space to choose a different destiny.
jace watches the exchange silently, his eyes tracking the raw pain passing between the two of you. he doesn’t offer a smug smile or a triumphant glance. there is a somber understanding in his expression. he knows the cost of duty all too well.
with a final tight nod to you, daniel turns on his heel and descends the stone steps. the heavy clank of his boots sounds like a funeral march for the life you had planned together.
“come,” jace says softly, his voice gentle. he doesn’t try to touch you this time, instead giving you the space to breathe. “let us see what my mother’s ravens bring.”
swallowing down the lump of grief in your throat, you lift the heavy skirts of your gown and follow jace down the covered walkway. when you enter your father’s solar, the atmosphere is suffocatingly tense. lord rickon stark stands by the narrow window with a piece of dark parchment clutched in his fist. cregan is there too, silent and with his hand resting on the pommel of his sword.
your father turns, and his grim face looks like it could have been carved from the very stone of the castle.
“prince jacaerys,” rickon speaks, his voice flat. “there has been a tragedy involving your brother, lucerys. your mother requests you back to dragonstone immediately.”
jace goes rigid beside you, the color draining from his face as his eyes widen with dread.
“injured?” jace repeats, his voice tight. his gaze demands the truth from your father.
“the raven says he was attacked over shipbreaker bay, but he and arrax managed to escape into the cliffs,” rickon answers heavily. “he lives, my prince, but the dragons are flying. the war has begun.”
your father looks at you, his stern gaze softening just a fraction, but his words remain an absolute command. “the terms of the pact of ice and fire are sealed. you will not be wed here in the snow. you will fly south with the prince. today.”
the words crash over you. today. everything you hoped you had time to figure out is being ripped away. your heart hammers in your ears as you look between your father’s strong gaze and jace’s sudden panic.
“father, please,” you whisper, stepping back. your voice is trembling. “it is all happening too fast. i am unsure… i need just a moment to gather my things and to breathe.”
your father sighs, the harsh lines of his face deepening, but he nods once. “one hour. the dragon must take flight before the midday sun is lost to the clouds.”
you don’t wait for jace to speak. you turn on your heel and flee the solar, your heavy velvet skirts sweeping against the cold floor as you run to find daniel. you don’t care about the whispers of the servants. you run down the winding stairs, straight toward the secondary stables, the quiet ones where the guard horses are kept, sure that’s exactly where he will be.
you find daniel in the dim gloom of a stall. he isn’t working frantically anymore. he’s leaning against the wooden post with his head bowed, his broad shoulders shaking with ragged breaths.
“daniel,” you gasp, leaning against the stall door to catch your breath.
he flinches at the sound of your voice but doesn’t look up. the silence between you is agonizing.
“daniel, please look at me,” you plead with him, stepping inside. “my father is sending me away. today. prince lucerys velaryon was attacked, the war is starting, and i’m supposed to fly south with jace today.”
daniel lets out a bitter, broken laugh that sounds more like a sob. he finally raises his head, and your heart breaks at the sight of his face. his eyes are red and pooled with tears he refuses to let fall and his expression is entirely shattered.
“today,” he echoes, his voice cracking. he steps toward you, but there is no anger in his stride. you see only hurt. “so that’s it then? you’re just going to leave?”
“i don’t know what to do!” you cry, tears spilling over your cheeks. “everything is spinning, i am so confused—“
“confused?” daniel asks, his voice trembling as he shakes his head. “when your father first told you that you were being sent to dragonstone, before the prince set foot in winterfell… i came to your chambers and you were furious with me. you wept in my arms and asked me how i could just agree to it. you looked at me like i was a coward for not fighting for us, for playing the loyal hound instead of protecting our relationship.”
a fresh wave of guilt hits your chest, making it hard to breathe. you try to suck in a shaky breath, wheezing as you did so.
“and now?” daniel whispers, a single tear finally rolling down his cheek. he gestures vaguely toward the courtyard, and then toward the battlements where you stood with jace. “now you’re doing the exact same thing. worse, even. i was trying to save my head so we could run away together, but you… you look at him, you kiss him and you just let the tide take you. you’re handing yourself over to them, and you’re not even fighting for us anymore.”
“daniel, that’s not fair, i love you—“
“then stay!” he pleads, his voice dropping into a desperate whisper as he steps closer. his hands hover near yours but he doesn’t touch you. “tell your father no. run into the woods with me right now! i’d bet you won’t, because a part of you wants the dragon prince. you want the crown. you called me a coward for obeying your father, but you’re ready to get on that beast’s back willingly.”
“daniel…” you reach out, your fingers trembling, trying to find his hand. the sheer weight of his words leaves you completely frozen.
before either of you can say another word, the heavy wooden door of the stable creaks open, letting in a sudden burst of freezing air.
you turn sharply to see jacaerys rounding the corner of the stall. his dark curls are windblown, and his face still carries the pale anxiety of the news about his brother. when he looks up his eyes are intensely focused on the two of you.
jace doesn’t look angry. he looks incredibly somber, stepping into the dim space with the quiet grace of a prince. he looks at your tear stained face, then at daniel’s broken posture, instantly reading the agonizing history written in the air between you.
“the hour is short,” jace says softly, his voice grounded and offering no judgment. it only carries the crushing reality of the world outside. “vermax is ready. it is time to choose which path you’ll take, my lady.”
divider by enchanthings. original work by me, jaacaerysvelaryon. do not copy, translate or repost. message me or reply if you want to be tagged in part three.
daenera as jace’s biological child???? ppl speculating that baela is pregnant and oh my god??? instead of her being vaemond’s granddaughter, corlys’ via baela and jace? if they change canon like this even more i’m going to scream but ik harry and phoebe mentioned ep.6 being their favorite and oh my god like what the hell. bethany saying baela has an unexpected arc this season and i know we’ll get more flashbacks of jace. these thoughts are in response to tiktok rumors but honestly idk what to make of them AND WE DIDNT EVEN SEE A JACAELA KISS LIKE HOW—??
pairing: jacaerys velaryon x stark!reader, stark!reader x guard oc, daniel
summary: you’re the only daughter of rickon stark, the warden of the north. when he bends the knee to queen rhaenyra, he plans on keeping that vow… but then, aegon ii usurps the throne and the crown prince, jacaerys velaryon, comes to winterfell to secure the north’s allegiance to the queen. your father intends to offer your hand in marriage to prince jace, as he is unaware that you are in love with daniel, your childhood friend and guard… until you meet jacaerys in person, and everything turns on its head.
word count: 3.2k.
note: reader, daniel and jace are all 18+! in this fic aegon has usurped the throne, but i’m changing canon a bit to keep rickon stark alive, making him warden of the north when jace flies to winterfell to create the pact of ice and fire. i am keeping that the pact included jace wedding rickon’s daughter, only in this fic it isn’t bastard sara snow, but a legitimate daughter of rickon and gilliane. oc!daniel’s face claim is daniel wagner from greta van fleet, and the fanfic title is the name of one of their songs <33 collage made by me, pics are from pinterest, if they’re yours then fullll creds to you!!
warnings: none really for this part, maybe a bit of emotional infidelity if you squint, but this fic is still 18+. smut in future parts.
the heavy ironwood doors of the great hall did little to keep out the biting chill, but today the cold felt as though it were seeping directly into your bones. high above you, the pale winter sun peered through the narrow frost rimmed windows, casting long dark shadows across the stone floor of winterfell.
at the end of the hall sat your father, the warden of the north. rickon stark. your relationship with him had always been unyielding, built on duty rather than affection. he viewed his children more as pieces to secure the north’s survival rather than his own flesh and blood.
“the realm is fracturing,” your father’s voice echoed off the ancient stone walls. he didn’t even look up as he spoke to you, his eyes were fixed on the map of westeros spread across the heavy oak table that was weighted down by stone direwolves. “the targaryen’s are on the brink of war. aegon has taken the iron throne, but queen rhaenyra summons her banners from dragonstone. we must again choose a side.”
he tapped a blunt finger against the map, right at the neck of the continent. “you are to travel south.”
“wha- travel?” you breathed, the word catching in your throat as a wave of panic struck you. “the realm is coming apart at the seams and you wish to send me into the mouth of it?”
“yes,” he grunted, finally tilting his stern gaze up to meet yours.
“i refuse,” you said, crossing your arms over the thick velvet of your gown, wishing you could anchor your boots to the stone.
“refuse all you’d like, you will ride at dawn,” he countered, his voice leveling you. “queen rhaenyra is sending her eldest son, prince jacaerys, north to winterfell to secure our allegiance. i will not have you here when he arrives, not until the terms are set. you are to travel to white harbor and from there a ship will take you to dragonstone. it is my intention to offer your hand to the prince to seal the pact of ice and fire.”
“you mean to use me as a bargaining chip?” you asked, your eyes welling up with hot tears.
“i intend to secure the north’s future,” your father replied. his expression softened just a fraction, though his voice remained iron. “it does not mean i do not love you. you know that i do. but, winter is coming, and i must protect this kingdom. you leave at dawn, daniel will command your guard.”
you turned your head, looking toward the guard stationed by the pillar. daniel straightened, his expression unreadable, though you could see the slight tension in his jaw.
“yes, my lord,” daniel bowed his head, his deep voice filling the space between you. “i will deliver her safely.”
he played his part perfectly but the betrayal still stung, even if you knew he had no choice. you were unable to bear it for another second. you turned on your heel, lifting the heavy skirts of your gown, and fled the great hall. the sound of your frantic footsteps and the swish of your dress echoed behind you.
when you reached your chambers you pressed your back against the cool stone wall, slowly sliding down until you were a heap of velvet on the floor. the tears finally spilled over. moments later, the heavy thud of armored boots sounded in the corridor. you didn’t need to look up to know it was him.
daniel slipped into the room, closing the heavy oak door behind him. he sank to the floor, his leather and iron armor clanking loudly in the quiet room. he removed his heavy gauntlet, tossed it aside and reached up. his rough, familiar hand cradled your face. despite your frustration, you leaned into his touch. he had been your companion, your confidant, and the secret holder of your heart for as long as you could remember.
“how could you agree to it?” you whispered harshly, your voice thick with tears. “to hand me over to a dragon prince?”
“and have your father take my head before the hearth?” daniel’s voice was low, laced with a quiet desperation. “if he saw even a flicker of what is between us, i would be fed to the crows by nightfall.”
he was right. your father was a just man, but a stark’s duty was absolute, and a guard loving a highborn daughter of winterfell might as well have been a death sentence.
daniel wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb, his gaze locking onto yours. “listen to me. we are not going to white harbor. i will play the loyal hound until we cross the white knife at dawn… but once we hit the dense tree line of the wolfswood…”
a spark of dangerous, terrifying hope flared in your chest. escaping into the vast wild north with him meant leaving behind the safety of winterfell and the comfort of your status. it meant leaving behind the family you knew. it meant freedom. it meant him.
you swallowed hard and wiped your face, then nodded. “we should pack only what we can carry on horseback,” you agreed, a small smile breaking through your grief.
daniel stood, pulling his gauntlet back on, becoming the heavy soldier once more. “i must return to the barracks. when you see me at the gates tonight, play your part. let your father believe he has broken your spirit, that is the only way we get out.”
the plan was perfect, forged in the dark of your chambers and fueled by a lifetime of shared affection… but the gods of the north are old and are rarely kind to the plans of lovers.
—
the betrayal didn't come from a guard, or a slipped word. it came in the form of a shadow over the sun.
the morning of your scheduled departure, the sky above winterfell did not fill with the gray clouds of an oncoming blizzard, but with the deafening and earth shaking roar of a beast from the south. the courtyard erupted into chaos as vermax, a massive dragon of olive green and bronze, cut through the clouds and landed upon the ancient walls of the keep. snow melted in waves against the stones as the dragon exhaled a plume of hot smoke.
prince jacaerys velaryon had arrived early.
you stood on the covered walkway, your traveling cloak wrapped tightly around you, and stared down into the courtyard. daniel was already there, holding the reins of your horse. his knuckles were white against the leather.
from the dragon’s back dismounted the young prince. he bore the dark hair of the strong’s but carried himself with the unmistakable, striking grace of a prince of the realm. as jacaerys removed his riding gloves and stepped into the snow, his eyes swept over the grim northern faces until they landed directly on you where you were standing high above.
there was no arrogance in his gaze. there was only a fierce, curious intensity. for a moment, the biting northern air felt strangely warm. you’d never been looked at like that by anyone other than daniel… or, you’d never noticed anyone else looking at you that way.
your father stepped forward to greet him, but jace’s eyes lingered on you for a beat too long, and a subtle intriguing shift passed over his features. down in the courtyard, daniel’s gaze darted between you and the targaryen prince, his hand instinctively dropping toward the pommel of his sword.
the escape into the wolfswood was no longer just a flight from duty, it was a race against a fire that had just arrived in the north, and for the first time in your life you felt the terrifying sensation of your footing beginning to slip.
—
the sudden arrival of prince jacaerys changed everything. since the dragon prince was already inside the walls of winterfell, your father saw no purpose in sending you away to dragonstone. the terms of the pact of ice and fire would be negotiated right here with you present.
your escape with daniel was now frozen in its tracks.
the evening jace arrived, the great hall was filled with the roaring heat of massive hearths, the scent of roasted meat, and a heavy tension. you sat at the high table beside your older brother, cregan, dressed in your usual dark northern velvet. your eyes kept darting toward the lower tables where the guards dined. daniel was sat there, his eyes fixed firmly on his plate, his jaw set so tightly you could see the muscle twitching from across the room. he wouldn't look at you. he couldn't.
“my lord,” jacaerys’s voice cut through your thoughts. he stood before the high table, having risen to properly greet the family. now stripped of his riding leathers, he wore a doublet of dark targaryen red and black, a striking contrast to the muted grays and browns of winterfell.
your father looked up, and then gestured toward you. “prince jacaerys, allow me to introduce my daughter.”
jace turned his gaze to you. up close, he didn’t look like the tyrannical dragon lords of the stories. his dark curly hair was slightly untamed, and there was a heavy weight of responsibility in his eyes. it was a look you recognized all too well from your own family. he stepped forward and bowed, an elegant courtly gesture that felt entirely foreign to the great hall.
“it is an honor, my lady,” jace said, his voice smooth but grounded. when he rose, his eyes locked onto yours, and a small, genuine smile curved his lips. “your father speaks highly of your devotion to the north.”
“you are welcome to winterfell, prince jacaerys,” you replied, your voice steady despite the flutter of panic in your chest. you bowed your head politely before speaking again. “my apologies, i fear our cold winds are a poor substitute for the warmth of dragonstone.”
“the warmth of a castle is found in its people, not its climate,” jace answered smoothly, his gaze lingering just a second too long. he was diplomatic. there was an undeniable intensity to him, something that felt entirely detached from the safe, predictable life you had known with daniel. it wasn’t a threat. it was an invitation to a world you hadn’t even dared to imagine.
you caught cregan watching the interaction with a quirked brow, while down below the clatter of a cup against the table told you daniel had seen it too.
—
hours later, the feast became suffocating. the laughter, the heavy ale, and the weight of jace’s gaze, which you had felt on you throughout the night, pushed you out of the hall. you needed air and you needed to think.
you sought refuge in the only place in winterfell that ever offered true quiet, the godswood.
the ancient wood was silent, the deep snow muffling any sound from the keep. you walked until you reached the heart tree, its bone white bark and red leaves standing out starkly against the dark. you leaned against a frost covered stone, letting out a breath that puffed into a white cloud in the freezing air. your mind was a chaotic storm.
you loved daniel. you had promised him a life in the wild, that you’d escape with him and be solely his… but the look in jacaerys’s eyes tonight had sparked something dangerous inside you. you now had a sudden curiosity about a different destiny. it was terrifying.
the crunch of snow behind you broke the silence.
“i’ve been told the northmen find peace beneath these trees,” a voice spoke softly.
you turned sharply to see jacaerys stepping into the clearing. he had thrown a heavy fur cloak over his doublet, looking less like a southern prince and more like a man trying to understand the world he had just flown into.
“prince jacaerys,” you said, adjusting your cloak. “you should not be out here alone. the godswood can be treacherous for those who do not know the paths.”
“please, call me jace. at least when we are not under your father’s watchful eye,” he said with a small smile, stepping closer. he kept a respectful distance and looked up at the carving on the weirwood tree, his expression contemplative. “my mother always told me the old gods see everything. i wanted to see them for myself.”
he turned his gaze back to yours, the pale moonlight catching the sharp lines of his face. “i also wanted to apologize. i know my arrival has thrown your home and your life into disarray. i am not blind, my lady. i know what this pact asks of you. i also know that your guard seems very unhappy about it.”
his directness caught you off guard. there was no political maneuvering in his tone, just a raw sincerity that made your heart skip a beat.
“you speak as though you have a choice in the matter, too,” you murmured, stepping out from the shadow of the stone.
“we all have choices,” jace said softly, his eyes searching yours with that same fierce intensity from the courtyard. “even if we must find them in the dark.”
for a long moment, the only sound was the wind rustling the red leaves above. but standing there with him, the ancient cold of the north felt entirely distant, replaced by a sudden terrifying warmth.
“we choose the chains we wear,” you said softly, your voice barely louder than the wind. you looked down at your hands, hidden within the folds of your heavy sleeves. “that is what my father taught us. a stark lives for the north, not for themselves.”
jace stepped a fraction closer, the snow crunching softly beneath his boots. “and what does the sister of cregan stark want, when she is not living for the north?”
the question struck you like a physical blow. no one had ever asked you what you wanted, not your father, not cregan, not even daniel, who had simply assumed you wanted freedom by his side. he wasn’t entirely wrong, but you never really had the chance to voice your wants like this before.
jace was looking at you as if your answer actually mattered to the fate of the seven kingdoms.
“i used to think i wanted peace,” you admitted, looking up to meet his eyes. “a quiet life. one where the walls of winterfell didn’t feel quite so high.”
“and now?” jace prompted.
“and now the world is changing,” you whispered, gesturing vaguely to the sky where vermax had flown hours earlier. “fire has come to the north. it makes the quiet life feel… smaller, if that’s possible.”
jace’s expression softened, a look of understanding washing over his features. “i know that feeling. until recently, i was just a boy living on dragonstone, learning to ride and wield a sword. now my mother’s crown rests on how well i can negotiate, how high i can fly, and how many men i can convince to die for us.”
he looked toward the weirwood tree, a bitter smile touching his lips. “sometimes, the duty is a cage. but standing here with you, it feels less like a prison sentence and more like a beginning.”
the honesty in his words was intoxicating. you felt a magnetic pull to him, a sense of shared burden that you had never experienced before. daniel loved you, but he was a guard. his duty was to protect you, to serve your family. he could never understand the crushing weight of a highborn name. jace did. he carried the weight of the entire realm on his shoulders, yet he was looking at you as if you were an anchor he’d been searching ages for.
“you shouldn’t say such things, my prince,” you breathed, though you didn’t pull away as he stepped into your personal space.
“jace,” he corrected softly. he reached out, his hand hesitating in the cold air between you before his fingers gently brushed against the fur collar of your cloak. His touch was unbelievably warm, as if the dragon blood in his veins could defy the northern winter. “if i am to bind my house to yours, i want it to be because you chose me, not because a lord and a queen drew a line on a map.”
your breath hitched. for a second, you wanted to lean into that warmth. you wanted to let the fire consume the safe predictable life you had planned.
“i must go,” you whispered suddenly, panicked by the sheer force of your own emotions. “the night grows late, and my father will notice my absence.”
jace dipped his head, stepping back with a respectful smile. “goodnight, my lady. i look forward to our next conversation.”
you fled the godswood, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. the warmth of jace’s touch seemed to linger on your skin, making the cold air of the castle feel sharper than before.
when you reached your chambers, you slipped inside and pushed the heavy door shut, leaning your head against the wood to catch your breath.
“you were gone a long time.”
you gasped, your eyes snapping open. daniel was standing in the shadows near the hearth, the fire casting long, dancing shadows across his face. he had stripped off his armor, wearing only his dark leather tunic, but his posture was rigid. his eyes, usually so full of warmth and affection, were dark and swimming with a mixture of fear and hurt.
“daniel,” you breathed, stepping toward him. “you shouldn't be here, if the other guards see you—“
“i don’t care about the guards right now,” he interrupted, his voice a low whisper. he closed the distance between you, taking your hands in his. his palms were cold, the familiar, rough hands of a northern soldier, and for the first time, you found yourself noticing the chill. “i saw him looking at you at the feast… and i saw you leave, and i saw him follow you into the woods.”
he searched your face, desperation bleeding into his features. “what happened out there? tell me the plan hasn’t changed. tell me we are still leaving when the guard shifts at dawn.”
your heart hammered against your ribs, a suffocating mix of guilt and panic flooding your chest. looking into daniel’s familiar eyes, the truth felt far too heavy and far too dangerous to voice. if you told him that a single conversation with a dragon prince had shaken the foundation of everything you’d ever known, it would break him. it would ruin everything before you even understood your own heart.
you forced a soft breath past your lips and squeezed his rough hands, forcing a reassuring smile to your face.
“of course the plan hasn’t changed,” you lied, your voice steady despite the flutter in your throat. “he only followed me to play the part of the dutiful prince. he wanted to apologize for the political mess his arrival caused. that’s all, daniel. it was pure politics.”
daniel let out a long, ragged breath, the tension leaving his shoulders all at once. he leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours, completely unaware of the conflict tearing you apart inside. “good,” he whispered fiercely. “because i can’t lose you to a targaryen.”
“technically, he’s a velaryon,” you mumbled, and daniel pulled back to glare at you. you leaned back into his touch.
as you held him, your eyes drifted to the frosted window, staring out toward the courtyard where vermax slept. the lie you were spinning felt cold in your chest, a sharp contrast to the lingering warmth jace had left behind.
divider by enchanthings. original work by me, jaacaerysvelaryon. do not copy, translate or repost. message me or reply if you want to be tagged in part two.
pairing: jacaerys velaryon x stark!reader, stark!reader x guard oc, daniel
summary: you’re the only daughter of rickon stark, the warden of the north. when he bends the knee to queen rhaenyra, he plans on keeping that vow… but then, aegon ii usurps the throne and the crown prince, jacaerys velaryon, comes to winterfell to secure the north’s allegiance to the queen. your father intends to offer your hand in marriage to prince jace, as he is unaware that you are in love with daniel, your childhood friend and guard… until you meet jacaerys in person, and everything turns on its head.
word count: 3.2k.
you can find the masterlist here!
note: reader, daniel and jace are all 18+! in this fic aegon has usurped the throne, but i’m changing canon a bit to keep rickon stark alive, making him warden of the north when jace flies to winterfell to create the pact of ice and fire. i am keeping that the pact included jace wedding rickon’s daughter, only in this fic it isn’t bastard sara snow, but a legitimate daughter of rickon and gilliane. oc!daniel’s face claim is daniel wagner from greta van fleet, and the fanfic title is the name of one of their songs <33 collage made by me, pics are from pinterest, if they’re yours then fullll creds to you!! pacing in this fic is incredibly fast and you may get whiplash from the readers erratic behavior. stick with it — i promise it all pays off in the end. there is a lot more to come with this work.
warnings: none really for this part, maybe a bit of emotional infidelity if you squint, but this fic is still 18+. smut in future parts.
the heavy ironwood doors of the great hall did little to keep out the biting chill, but today the cold felt as though it were seeping directly into your bones. high above you, the pale winter sun peered through the narrow frost rimmed windows, casting long dark shadows across the stone floor of winterfell.
at the end of the hall sat your father, the warden of the north. rickon stark. your relationship with him had always been unyielding, built on duty rather than affection. he viewed his children more as pieces to secure the north’s survival rather than his own flesh and blood.
“the realm is fracturing,” your father’s voice echoed off the ancient stone walls. he didn’t even look up as he spoke to you, his eyes were fixed on the map of westeros spread across the heavy oak table that was weighted down by stone direwolves. “the targaryen’s are on the brink of war. aegon has taken the iron throne, but queen rhaenyra summons her banners from dragonstone. we must again choose a side.”
he tapped a blunt finger against the map, right at the neck of the continent. “you are to travel south.”
“wha- travel?” you breathed, the word catching in your throat as a wave of panic struck you. “the realm is coming apart at the seams and you wish to send me into the mouth of it?”
“yes,” he grunted, finally tilting his stern gaze up to meet yours.
“i refuse,” you said, crossing your arms over the thick velvet of your gown, wishing you could anchor your boots to the stone.
“refuse all you’d like, you will ride at dawn,” he countered, his voice leveling you. “queen rhaenyra is sending her eldest son, prince jacaerys, north to winterfell to secure our allegiance. i will not have you here when he arrives, not until the terms are set. you are to travel to white harbor and from there a ship will take you to dragonstone. it is my intention to offer your hand to the prince to seal the pact of ice and fire.”
“you mean to use me as a bargaining chip?” you asked, your eyes welling up with hot tears.
“i intend to secure the north’s future,” your father replied. his expression softened just a fraction, though his voice remained iron. “it does not mean i do not love you. you know that i do. but, winter is coming, and i must protect this kingdom. you leave at dawn, daniel will command your guard.”
you turned your head, looking toward the guard stationed by the pillar. daniel straightened, his expression unreadable, though you could see the slight tension in his jaw.
“yes, my lord,” daniel bowed his head, his deep voice filling the space between you. “i will deliver her safely.”
he played his part perfectly but the betrayal still stung, even if you knew he had no choice. you were unable to bear it for another second. you turned on your heel, lifting the heavy skirts of your gown, and fled the great hall. the sound of your frantic footsteps and the swish of your dress echoed behind you.
when you reached your chambers you pressed your back against the cool stone wall, slowly sliding down until you were a heap of velvet on the floor. the tears finally spilled over. moments later, the heavy thud of armored boots sounded in the corridor. you didn’t need to look up to know it was him.
daniel slipped into the room, closing the heavy oak door behind him. he sank to the floor, his leather and iron armor clanking loudly in the quiet room. he removed his heavy gauntlet, tossed it aside and reached up. his rough, familiar hand cradled your face. despite your frustration, you leaned into his touch. he had been your companion, your confidant, and the secret holder of your heart for as long as you could remember.
“how could you agree to it?” you whispered harshly, your voice thick with tears. “to hand me over to a dragon prince?”
“and have your father take my head before the hearth?” daniel’s voice was low, laced with a quiet desperation. “if he saw even a flicker of what is between us, i would be fed to the crows by nightfall.”
he was right. your father was a just man, but a stark’s duty was absolute, and a guard loving a highborn daughter of winterfell might as well have been a death sentence.
daniel wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb, his gaze locking onto yours. “listen to me. we are not going to white harbor. i will play the loyal hound until we cross the white knife at dawn… but once we hit the dense tree line of the wolfswood…”
a spark of dangerous, terrifying hope flared in your chest. escaping into the vast wild north with him meant leaving behind the safety of winterfell and the comfort of your status. it meant leaving behind the family you knew. it meant freedom. it meant him.
you swallowed hard and wiped your face, then nodded. “we should pack only what we can carry on horseback,” you agreed, a small smile breaking through your grief.
daniel stood, pulling his gauntlet back on, becoming the heavy soldier once more. “i must return to the barracks. when you see me at the gates tonight, play your part. let your father believe he has broken your spirit, that is the only way we get out.”
the plan was perfect, forged in the dark of your chambers and fueled by a lifetime of shared affection… but the gods of the north are old and are rarely kind to the plans of lovers.
—
the betrayal didn't come from a guard, or a slipped word. it came in the form of a shadow over the sun.
the morning of your scheduled departure, the sky above winterfell did not fill with the gray clouds of an oncoming blizzard, but with the deafening and earth shaking roar of a beast from the south. the courtyard erupted into chaos as vermax, a massive dragon of olive green and bronze, cut through the clouds and landed upon the ancient walls of the keep. snow melted in waves against the stones as the dragon exhaled a plume of hot smoke.
prince jacaerys velaryon had arrived early.
you stood on the covered walkway, your traveling cloak wrapped tightly around you, and stared down into the courtyard. daniel was already there, holding the reins of your horse. his knuckles were white against the leather.
from the dragon’s back dismounted the young prince. he bore the dark hair of the strong’s but carried himself with the unmistakable, striking grace of a prince of the realm. as jacaerys removed his riding gloves and stepped into the snow, his eyes swept over the grim northern faces until they landed directly on you where you were standing high above.
there was no arrogance in his gaze. there was only a fierce, curious intensity. for a moment, the biting northern air felt strangely warm. you’d never been looked at like that by anyone other than daniel… or, you’d never noticed anyone else looking at you that way.
your father stepped forward to greet him, but jace’s eyes lingered on you for a beat too long, and a subtle intriguing shift passed over his features. down in the courtyard, daniel’s gaze darted between you and the targaryen prince, his hand instinctively dropping toward the pommel of his sword.
the escape into the wolfswood was no longer just a flight from duty, it was a race against a fire that had just arrived in the north, and for the first time in your life you felt the terrifying sensation of your footing beginning to slip.
—
the sudden arrival of prince jacaerys changed everything. since the dragon prince was already inside the walls of winterfell, your father saw no purpose in sending you away to dragonstone. the terms of the pact of ice and fire would be negotiated right here with you present.
your escape with daniel was now frozen in its tracks.
the evening jace arrived, the great hall was filled with the roaring heat of massive hearths, the scent of roasted meat, and a heavy tension. you sat at the high table beside your older brother, cregan, dressed in your usual dark northern velvet. your eyes kept darting toward the lower tables where the guards dined. daniel was sat there, his eyes fixed firmly on his plate, his jaw set so tightly you could see the muscle twitching from across the room. he wouldn't look at you. he couldn't.
“my lord,” jacaerys’s voice cut through your thoughts. he stood before the high table, having risen to properly greet the family. now stripped of his riding leathers, he wore a doublet of dark targaryen red and black, a striking contrast to the muted grays and browns of winterfell.
your father looked up, and then gestured toward you. “prince jacaerys, allow me to introduce my daughter.”
jace turned his gaze to you. up close, he didn’t look like the tyrannical dragon lords of the stories. his dark curly hair was slightly untamed, and there was a heavy weight of responsibility in his eyes. it was a look you recognized all too well from your own family. he stepped forward and bowed, an elegant courtly gesture that felt entirely foreign to the great hall.
“it is an honor, my lady,” jace said, his voice smooth but grounded. when he rose, his eyes locked onto yours, and a small, genuine smile curved his lips. “your father speaks highly of your devotion to the north.”
“you are welcome to winterfell, prince jacaerys,” you replied, your voice steady despite the flutter of panic in your chest. you bowed your head politely before speaking again. “my apologies, i fear our cold winds are a poor substitute for the warmth of dragonstone.”
“the warmth of a castle is found in its people, not its climate,” jace answered smoothly, his gaze lingering just a second too long. he was diplomatic. there was an undeniable intensity to him, something that felt entirely detached from the safe, predictable life you had known with daniel. it wasn’t a threat. it was an invitation to a world you hadn’t even dared to imagine.
you caught cregan watching the interaction with a quirked brow, while down below the clatter of a cup against the table told you daniel had seen it too.
—
hours later, the feast became suffocating. the laughter, the heavy ale, and the weight of jace’s gaze, which you had felt on you throughout the night, pushed you out of the hall. you needed air and you needed to think.
you sought refuge in the only place in winterfell that ever offered true quiet, the godswood.
the ancient wood was silent, the deep snow muffling any sound from the keep. you walked until you reached the heart tree, its bone white bark and red leaves standing out starkly against the dark. you leaned against a frost covered stone, letting out a breath that puffed into a white cloud in the freezing air. your mind was a chaotic storm.
you loved daniel. you had promised him a life in the wild, that you’d escape with him and be solely his… but the look in jacaerys’s eyes tonight had sparked something dangerous inside you. you now had a sudden curiosity about a different destiny. it was terrifying.
the crunch of snow behind you broke the silence.
“i’ve been told the northmen find peace beneath these trees,” a voice spoke softly.
you turned sharply to see jacaerys stepping into the clearing. he had thrown a heavy fur cloak over his doublet, looking less like a southern prince and more like a man trying to understand the world he had just flown into.
“prince jacaerys,” you said, adjusting your cloak. “you should not be out here alone. the godswood can be treacherous for those who do not know the paths.”
“please, call me jace. at least when we are not under your father’s watchful eye,” he said with a small smile, stepping closer. he kept a respectful distance and looked up at the carving on the weirwood tree, his expression contemplative. “my mother always told me the old gods see everything. i wanted to see them for myself.”
he turned his gaze back to yours, the pale moonlight catching the sharp lines of his face. “i also wanted to apologize. i know my arrival has thrown your home and your life into disarray. i am not blind, my lady. i know what this pact asks of you. i also know that your guard seems very unhappy about it.”
his directness caught you off guard. there was no political maneuvering in his tone, just a raw sincerity that made your heart skip a beat.
“you speak as though you have a choice in the matter, too,” you murmured, stepping out from the shadow of the stone.
“we all have choices,” jace said softly, his eyes searching yours with that same fierce intensity from the courtyard. “even if we must find them in the dark.”
for a long moment, the only sound was the wind rustling the red leaves above. but standing there with him, the ancient cold of the north felt entirely distant, replaced by a sudden terrifying warmth.
“we choose the chains we wear,” you said softly, your voice barely louder than the wind. you looked down at your hands, hidden within the folds of your heavy sleeves. “that is what my father taught us. a stark lives for the north, not for themselves.”
jace stepped a fraction closer, the snow crunching softly beneath his boots. “and what does the sister of cregan stark want, when she is not living for the north?”
the question struck you like a physical blow. no one had ever asked you what you wanted, not your father, not cregan, not even daniel, who had simply assumed you wanted freedom by his side. he wasn’t entirely wrong, but you never really had the chance to voice your wants like this before.
jace was looking at you as if your answer actually mattered to the fate of the seven kingdoms.
“i used to think i wanted peace,” you admitted, looking up to meet his eyes. “a quiet life. one where the walls of winterfell didn’t feel quite so high.”
“and now?” jace prompted.
“and now the world is changing,” you whispered, gesturing vaguely to the sky where vermax had flown hours earlier. “fire has come to the north. it makes the quiet life feel… smaller, if that’s possible.”
jace’s expression softened, a look of understanding washing over his features. “i know that feeling. until recently, i was just a boy living on dragonstone, learning to ride and wield a sword. now my mother’s crown rests on how well i can negotiate, how high i can fly, and how many men i can convince to die for us.”
he looked toward the weirwood tree, a bitter smile touching his lips. “sometimes, the duty is a cage. but standing here with you, it feels less like a prison sentence and more like a beginning.”
the honesty in his words was intoxicating. you felt a magnetic pull to him, a sense of shared burden that you had never experienced before. daniel loved you, but he was a guard. his duty was to protect you, to serve your family. he could never understand the crushing weight of a highborn name. jace did. he carried the weight of the entire realm on his shoulders, yet he was looking at you as if you were an anchor he’d been searching ages for.
“you shouldn’t say such things, my prince,” you breathed, though you didn’t pull away as he stepped into your personal space.
“jace,” he corrected softly. he reached out, his hand hesitating in the cold air between you before his fingers gently brushed against the fur collar of your cloak. his touch was unbelievably warm, as if the dragon blood in his veins could defy the northern winter. “if i am to bind my house to yours, i want it to be because you chose me, not because a lord and a queen drew a line on a map.”
your breath hitched. for a second, you wanted to lean into that warmth. you wanted to let the fire consume the safe predictable life you had planned.
“i must go,” you whispered suddenly, panicked by the sheer force of your own emotions. “the night grows late, and my father will notice my absence.”
jace dipped his head, stepping back with a respectful smile. “goodnight, my lady. i look forward to our next conversation.”
you fled the godswood, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. the warmth of jace’s touch seemed to linger on your skin, making the cold air of the castle feel sharper than before.
when you reached your chambers, you slipped inside and pushed the heavy door shut, leaning your head against the wood to catch your breath.
“you were gone a long time.”
you gasped, your eyes snapping open. daniel was standing in the shadows near the hearth, the fire casting long, dancing shadows across his face. he had stripped off his armor, wearing only his dark leather tunic, but his posture was rigid. his eyes, usually so full of warmth and affection, were dark and swimming with a mixture of fear and hurt.
“daniel,” you breathed, stepping toward him. “you shouldn't be here, if the other guards see you—“
“i don’t care about the guards right now,” he interrupted, his voice a low whisper. he closed the distance between you, taking your hands in his. his palms were cold, the familiar, rough hands of a northern soldier, and for the first time, you found yourself noticing the chill. “i saw him looking at you at the feast… and i saw you leave, and i saw him follow you into the woods.”
he searched your face, desperation bleeding into his features. “what happened out there? tell me the plan hasn’t changed. tell me we are still leaving when the guard shifts at dawn.”
your heart hammered against your ribs, a suffocating mix of guilt and panic flooding your chest. looking into daniel’s familiar eyes, the truth felt far too heavy and far too dangerous to voice. if you told him that a single conversation with a dragon prince had shaken the foundation of everything you’d ever known, it would break him. it would ruin everything before you even understood your own heart.
you forced a soft breath past your lips and squeezed his rough hands, forcing a reassuring smile to your face.
“of course the plan hasn’t changed,” you lied, your voice steady despite the flutter in your throat. “he only followed me to play the part of the dutiful prince. he wanted to apologize for the political mess his arrival caused. that’s all, daniel. it was pure politics.”
daniel let out a long, ragged breath, the tension leaving his shoulders all at once. he leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours, completely unaware of the conflict tearing you apart inside. “good,” he whispered fiercely. “because i can’t lose you to a targaryen.”
“technically, he’s a velaryon,” you mumbled, and daniel pulled back to glare at you. you leaned back into his touch.
as you held him, your eyes drifted to the frosted window, staring out toward the courtyard where vermax slept. the lie you were spinning felt cold in your chest, a sharp contrast to the lingering warmth jace had left behind.
divider by enchanthings. original work by me, jaacaerysvelaryon. do not copy, translate or repost. message me or reply if you want to be tagged in part two.
warnings: banter (duh), fluff, steve and reader are both 18+, maybe a little angst/self-deprecation, nsfw so minors dni bc i love hard-blocking, lots of kissing, dry humping/grinding, protected sex! (pls wrap before u tap guys!), emotions (EW). takes place at the beginning of s5 to me :)
word count: 3.3k
note: woohoo! chai’s writing fic again! feel free to leave comments, reblog with your thoughts, send asks, anything! i’d love to hear it! 🤎 if you wanna be tagged in future works (if there are any), then let me know!
It’s not a date.
These things, these friday nights spent with Steve… they’re not dates. They never have been. At first, it was Steve and Robin, but she’s been spending all her available time with Vickie so… now it’s just you and Steve, but they aren’t dates. They can’t be.
They’re more like… sad loser meetings between friends. It’s just you, hanging out with your guy best friend, complaining about your pathetic love lives and knowing that you understand each other because the two of you actually know what’s happening in this town. So, not a date, not at all. Just hanging out.
But then… why did you take your time curling your hair tonight? Or applying your favorite lipstick so meticulously… or picking out the perfect outfit?
‘Just to look nice. It’s okay to want to look nice,’ you tell yourself.
When Steve pulls up and hops out of the car to come knock on your door, you notice he’s put in effort, too. ‘See, it’s okay to try to look nice just to be with a friend,’ you rationalize with your brain… but your stomach just flipped. You grab your purse and head outside, pretending you don’t notice the way Steve’s eyes trailed over your outfit and the way his gaze lingers on your lips. “C’mon, Harrington,” you finally say, heading to his car and sliding into the passenger seat.
It takes a minute for him to pull away from the curb, but when he finally does it’s almost like he’s doing it with bated breath.
“What’s got your panties in a twist, Steven?” you tease him, cocking a playful eyebrow.
“Nothing, brat. I was just gonna… say you look nice.”
Your eyes widened at that. “Oh. You… you too,” you reply, and you mean it, even if it comes across stiff, or nervous, or… maybe you feel like you might throw up. That’s new. He does look unfairly good in that navy sweater he's wearing, though.
“So, chocolate therapy?” Steve asks, his voice higher and coming out quicker than usual. “Yes, absolutely. I could devour a milkshake bigger than your ego right now,” you laugh, and the tension snaps.
He rolls his eyes, reaching over to pinch your arm and you slap his hand away.
—
The diner is filled with its usual chatter and you and Steve take your usual booth in the back corner under the always flickering light. It seems a little haunted, which is fitting, because so are you and Steve.
When your milkshakes arrive, Steve plucks the cherry off the top of yours and pops it in his mouth, a bit of the juice dripping from the corner of his perfectly plush, pink lips. When did you start thinking about his lips like that?
He wipes it away with his thumb and you busy yourself with your spoon, shoving a large portion of chocolate drizzled whipped cream into your mouth. Steve starts talking, and you look up, ready to listen intently.
“Anyway, time to vent,” Steve says, gesturing sharply with a plastic spoon. “If I have to hear one more debate about ‘tactical advantages,’ I’m going to lose it. Dustin’s been a little asshole lately, and—“
“You haven’t been so nice to him, either. You two need to talk,” you say, taking a bite of your ice cream.
He sighs, knowing you’re right but refusing to admit it. The light from the flickering neon sign catches the tired lines around his eyes. He leans in closer, his voice dropping an octave when he speaks again, losing the performative annoyance. You see the shift in his demeanor, and you put your spoon down to focus, because he’s about to say something deeper than his fight with Dustin.
“I’m sick of the looks, too. From the kids, from Nancy... even Byers. They see me jump in front of something or take the lead and they think I’m trying to be the ‘big man’ again. It’s like they think I’m still competing for a crown I don't even want anymore. They think I’m trying to prove something to Nancy, or show up Jonathan, but it’s not about that. It’s never been about that. I’ve known for a long time that it wasn’t in the cards for me and Nance. She’s my friend.”
He looks down at his milkshake, his thumb tracing the rim of the glass.
“I just... I feel like I’m the one who can take a hit. If something is going to come out of a crawlspace or a vent, or some giant portal, I’d rather it hit me first. I’d rather it be me than any of them, or you, or Robin. It just feels like to them, I’m just ‘Steve the Hair’ again and I’m trying to look cool.” He looks up at you, his expression raw and a little exhausted. “I’m just trying to keep everyone alive. That’s it. That’s the whole move.”
“I know,” you reply softly, not breaking eye contact. “I know that about you, Steve. So does Robin.”
He nods, looking down at his melting milkshake again.
You reach across the table, taking his large, warm hand into yours.
“You don’t have to take all of the hits, though. It’s admirable, but… all of us kinda like you alive, too,” you tell him. “Who else would chauffeur all of us around?” You add, getting him to crack a smile. “Plus, we kinda have shared custody over the trauma and the kids,” you giggle. Steve squeezes your hand, but he doesn’t let it go. You don’t either.
The two of you keep eating your now soupy milkshakes, talking about nonsense, and the kids comics, and how Steve saw Tommy H. recently and he looks like garbage, and it’s easy to pretend for a little while that you don’t have to gear up again to fight interdimensional monsters within the next few days, or go searching for Vecna, or be willing to sacrifice your lives.
After a while a busboy comes around to collect your glasses, and Steve leaves cash on the table to pay the bill and tip the waitress as the two of you leave, climbing back into his car.
You notice him staring from the corner of your eye as you reapply your lipstick in the mirror. Why you’re reapplying, you aren’t sure. Maybe because it’s your favorite, and it came off while you were eating. Maybe it’s because you’ve caught him staring at your lips more than once tonight.
You cap the tube and slide it into your purse, and Steve clears his throat, looking away quickly as he turns the engine over.
—
The drive to the Harrington house is heavy with everything left unsaid. Steve drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the center console, it’s close enough that your pinky finger brushes his sleeve when you shift. He doesn't turn onto your street. He doesn't have to ask, because you end up staying over with him nearly every friday night now.
When the car engine finally cuts out in his driveway, the silence of the neighborhood feels deafening.
"I’m sorry if what I said was too… much," he admits, his voice low, almost cracking. He’s not looking at you, he’s staring at the darkened windows of his empty house.
"It wasn’t," you say firmly. “You can tell me anything, always.”
Inside, the house is cold and sprawling. Steve doesn't even bother with the lights in the foyer, leading you instead toward the stairs. In the dim glow of the hallway, he looks younger, less rugged than he usually has these days.
When you reach his bedroom, he stops at the door, finally turning to face you. The air between you is thick, charged with the lingering scent of his cologne and the reckless adrenaline of being alive. You reach up, your thumb grazing the edge of his jaw, right where the light catches the stray hairs of his sideburns.
"Breathe. It’s just me. It’s just us," you whisper.
Steve lets out a breath he’s been holding since the diner. He leans down, his forehead dropping to rest against yours. "The worst part of all of it is… I'm so tired of being the brave one," he mutters against your skin. “You’re allowed to feel that way,” you reassure him, running your fingers through his hair. He lets out a sharp exhale through his nose. “You know, we’re kinda just kids too,” you add.
He tilts his head to look at you, and there’s suddenly something there, something that’s been brewing for a while… something almost electric. He moves forward just enough to find your lips.
The kiss starts slow, almost hesitant, tasting like the cherry juice and chocolate from earlier. But as you slide your hands through his hair again, the rhythm changes. It gets deeper, more frantic. Steve’s hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him as if he's trying to anchor himself to the only thing in Hawkins that makes sense.
He backs you up into his room until you hit the edge of the bed, his kisses moving from your lips to the column of your throat, his breathing ragged in the quiet room. The sad loser meetings are officially over, this is something else entirely. This is something that’s been rooting itself between you two for a while because yeah, okay, they might’ve been dates.
Your lips trail down his neck too, and over his cheeks and his jaw, leaving red lipstick prints in their wake and god, he looks so pretty covered in your claim.
Steve lets out a jagged, shaky breath as your lips move over his jaw, his eyes fluttering shut. His hands, usually so steady, are trembling slightly where they grip your waist, bunching the fabric of your shirt. It’s as if he’s afraid that if he lets go, the reality of the upside down and all the shit you deal with daily will come rushing back to fill the space.
“Fuck,” he rasps, his head falling back as you find a particularly sensitive spot beneath his ear. “You have no idea… how long I’ve wanted to just… shut the world out like this. With you.”
He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and unfocused, his mouth stained slightly pink from your own. He looks wrecked in the best possible way, maybe even unburdened for the first time in years.
He reaches for the hem of his navy sweater, pulling it over his head in one fluid motion and tossing it somewhere toward the floor. In the pale moonlight filtering through the window, the faint jagged lines of old scars on his torso are visible, more reminders of everything he’s taken for everyone else, even for you. You run your fingers over them, and the moan that falls from his lips is sinful.
He moves back toward you, his skin warm as he leans in to reclaim your mouth, but this time his hands are lower, guiding you back onto the mattress until you’re pressed completely beneath him, his hands sliding under your shirt to caress your soft stomach. The bed creaks under the weight of both of you, and the sprawling emptiness of the house finally disappears, replaced entirely by the heat of his body and the frantic rhythm of his heart against your chest.
“Steve,” you whine, and his hips buck against yours as he yanks the shirt over your head and hastily unclips your bra. Your tits fall free and he throws your clothes onto the floor with his while his tongue traces a tight circle over one of your nipples. You can feel him kicking his shoes off down at the foot of the bed and you giggle, kicking yours off too.
Steve’s hands are exploratory, mapping out every inch of skin, and yours are doing the same, nails scraping through the thick hair in the valley of his chest before tracing lower, through the thinner patch that leads into his waistband.
It’s a running thing that Steve is big, you’ve even heard it from himself before because you’re friends who have talked about your love lives, but feeling it pressed against you through the rough denim of his jeans is everything you could’ve imagined and more. He’s definitely big, and thick, and now you’re imagining the weight of it in your hand, and—
“You’re blushing,” he laughs into your neck, his thumb and forefinger roughly pinching your nipple. You don’t even dignify him with a response, you just reach between the two of you to pop his belt open. His breath catches, but he doesn’t stop you. You shove his jeans down and christ, his boxers are obscenely tented. He kicks his pants off, pulling his socks off too, and you laugh at him again.
He rolls back on top of you and sinks his teeth into the meat of your breast, effectively shutting you up. You let him work your jeans down your legs too and now here you are, just in your panties and his boxers.
He kisses you again, settling his body between your thighs, and you both moan when his hips roll into yours. You roll yours back desperately, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“Like that?” he asks lowly, right in your ear, and you shiver before shoving your panties down and kicking them off. Steve follows with his boxers and settles back between your legs. He doesn’t even acknowledge how you’re gawking at his cock, he’s probably used to it. Instead, he slides it through your soaked folds, eliciting a choked sob from you and a sharp groan from him. “You’re so wet, baby,” he hums. “For me?”
You don't give him a verbal answer, because you don’t have the breath for it. Instead, you wrap your legs tightly around his waist, locking him to you, and arch your back off the sheets until your chest is crushed against his. You begin rutting back against him just as desperately, your hips meeting every downward roll of his with a frantic, upward surge of your own. His hands find your waist and press you back down into the bed so he can control the pace.
The friction is agonizingly perfect. It’s a messy, heated collision and Steve lets out a sound that’s half-groan, half-sob against the skin of your shoulder when he feels more slick dribble out of you while he’s pushing against you, the head of his thick cock catching your clit every time. His hands slide down to catch the underside of your thighs, hitching you higher, tilting your pelvis so that every movement he makes strikes exactly where you need it most every time. “Steveeee—“
“Yeah,” he chokes out, his forehead dropping to yours, sweat slicking the space between you. “Right there. Just like that. That’s what you want?”
You’re blind to anything else right now. The only thing that exists is the rhythmic creak of the springs and the way Steve feels, heavy and hot between your thighs, and completely yours. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, whining as you chase that spark behind your eyelids, your movements becoming a blur of friction and heat that finally, finally makes the rest of the world go quiet. “Steve, I’m gonna come like this,” you whimper, and he coos. “Come on then, baby. That’s what I want you to do.”
That’s all it takes, just that little reassurance in his warm voice. Your body ignites, like flames licking over your skin as you clench and pulse around nothing, even though his cock is still bullying your clit. He reaches into the nightstand for a condom, but he waits for your yes before tearing the package and rolling it on.
You give him a small, breathless nod, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you pull him down for a kiss that tastes like salt and sweat and you. It’s the final green light he needs. He tears the foil, the sound sharp in the quiet room, and once he's ready, he settles back between your thighs.
He doesn't rush. He lingers there for a second, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his eyes searching yours as if he’s still trying to process that this is actually happening between you. Then, he slides home.
A jagged, broken sound leaves his throat as he sinks into you, only halfway at first. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him as deep as he’ll let you, but he’s holding out a little. Your head falls back against the pillow as you mewl, nails scrabbling at his shoulders.
He lets out a growl that almost sounds relieved as he sinks further into you, and his forehead falls to yours. Here, it feels like he's just a man who is finally, finally safe. Every thrust is an anchor, grounding him to the present, to the reality of your body beneath his rather than the shadows that haunt your lives.
“You’re so beautiful,” he rasps against your ear, his pace quickening as he pushes in all the way. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, you’re taking it so well. Big stretch, hm?” he coos, and you whine softly.
You arch into him, your nails leaving crescent marks in his back as the world starts to blur. When he finally starts to thrust, his name is a prayer on your lips, and his hands find your hips again as he picks up the rhythm, thrusting into you rhythmically.
“You’re so wet for me,” he whispers again, and you nearly cry out, unable to form words from just how thoroughly he’s fucking you. Soft moans and whines and mewls leave your lips and and you can feel your slick drooling from your abused cunt and dripping all over his sheets as he drives into you. Steve loves it. He looks like a god above you, sheened with sweat and his hair mussed, his lips swollen and still that beautiful blush pink but tinged with the red from your lipstick.
“I’m gonna come again,” you whine, clawing your nails into his biceps. He chuckles. “Are you?” he asks, slowing his thrusts. “No, no no no, Steve, please—“ you whine, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. He smiles down at you softly, kissing the tears away. “I’m just teasing you, angel,” he hums, picking the pace back up.
“Come for me again,” he coaxes, and you do. This one’s warmer, it’s like being dunked into hot water. It’s warm and it rolls over your body in waves, and you know you’re moaning for him but it sounds muffled because you’re so far gone you can’t really focus on anything but the pleasure, the way his thumb is teasing your clit to prolong it. You don’t even register that your orgasm spurred his until he’s pulling out and rolling off of you, taking the condom off and tying it up before tossing it into the bin by his desk. You admire his ass and all the freckles smattered over his back as he walks away.
Your eyes are heavy, lids drooping, but Steve doesn’t let you rest yet. Instead he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom, gently placing you on your feet while he turns the hot spray on. You get in together and you’re sad to see your lipstick markings get washed off his skin. “You can put some more on me,” he hums, pulling you closer under the hot spray. “Thank you,” he mumbles into your wet hair. “For all of it, for—“
“Don’t get all sappy on me, Harrington,” you cut him off, but your arms wrap around him too.
Twenty minutes later you’re out of the shower, dried off, and heading down to the kitchen in one of his oversized shirts and some sweatpants. “Sooo,” he hums, “I can make grilled cheese.”
You laugh, hopping up onto the counter, poking his bicep with your toes. “Okay, wow me,” you tease him, and he leans in for a quick kiss before gathering all the ingredients.
