patience — declan rice summary: during the arsenal gala, declan rice can’t keep his eyes off of you. pairing: declan rice x fem!saka!reader warnings: consensual activities mentioned. a/n: thanks anon for the request!!
adjusting his bow tie for the umpteenth time, he growled in frustration. why couldn’t they of just worn regular ties?
he was ready to give up when the sweet scent of summer wafted up his nose. looking down—the best he could— you stood just a foot below him adjusting his bow tie.
before he could get the chance to say thank you, you were whisked away by another player for help. you could feel those icy blue eyes intensely burning into your backside.
“he’s watching,” bukayo muttered under his breath, as you helped your brother and his friends.
a group of twenty-some odd men attempting to adjust bow ties was disastrous, and when you heard of the attire you knew of a certain someone who couldn’t even put in cuff links, that would need help.
“good.” you muttered, taking a step back to ensure the tie was even, “how do I look?”
rolling his eyes, bukayo ignored your question and found his teammates to chat with, leaving you alone.
you didn’t dare turn in his direction. declan rice had a way with his eyes that could just about melt anyone into nothing. he had lips that could make anybody come in the matter of seconds. and he knew this. your praise, your moans, and the way you came undone all fed his ego to know the look he was burning into you, was enough to get you running.
but patience had to be a virtue. he needed to keep his wet dick in his pants until the patrons were fed and the donations were made.
—
the laughter of the billionaires irritated his soul, but he made conversation and thanked the donors for their time and money.
when he had the chance between smiling and shaking hands, he’d search the room for you. occasionally, he’d never get the chance to find your silky black dress under the dim lights, but when he did? he was a goner.
you were situated among other ladies. chattering about what? he didn’t know, but he loved seeing you animated and in fits of laughter. there once was a time he swore you had zero emotions. that was of course until his fingers were inside you and you audibly moaned with pleasure.
“he’s looking for you again.” tolami sarcastically groaned, though she secretly loved watching a man pin over her boyfriends sister.
“let him look.” you said readjusting your posture. you barely made a glance his direction most of the night, but you knew where he stood. his laughter echoed through the room. loud, he always was.
—
his fingers splayed across your ass, pinching the cheeks slightly you leaned into his touch letting him know it felt good.
“finally,” his words whispered across your skin sending a chill down your spine, “I’ve been waiting for this.” he sunk his lips into the skin of your neck, pulling you into his front side.
alone in the privacy of the restroom, you let him roam your body like he’d never done it before. he knew every curve, dimple, dip, and stretch mark like somebody were to study a map.
“show me,” you say feeling the air leave your lunges as he sunk his teeth nipping at your exposed skin before sinking down to his knees and turning you to face him.
careful not to tear the silk, he hiked up your dress before pressing you into the sink snd spreading you open for his mouth.
you couldn’t help but whimper feeling his warm tongue lick the slick of your folds. your pussy was throbbing, ready to explode.
Declan took his time in showing you just how you made him feel. he moved achingly slow taking in all of you while you panted like a track star with his name rolling off your lips.
he liked hearing you struggle to compose yourself, he felt the same way the whole night. if this meant his tongue would edge you until you no longer could hold up a fight, he was right there with you. he could feel himself hard dripping in precum.
he took one look up at you, and when your eyes met his, you couldn’t hold back. it was that look you avoided earlier, except now you couldn’t avoid it. not when it had your cum all over his lips.
licking the remnants off, he stood up allowing your dress to fall back down your hips, “you have no idea what you do to me.” he hefted a sigh, looking past you in the mirror to readjust his bow tie.
𝓹airing: aerion brightflame x wife!reader, maegor brightflame x mother!reader
𝓼ummary: you and aerion welcome a second child, a healthy little girl. maegor struggles with the new addition, and the subsequent less attention he receives. he can be just as pouty as his father.
𝔀arnings: fluff and a tiny bit of angst (aerion is mean to maegor), pictures are for aesthetic reasons only as the reader is not physically described, small mentions of childbirth, breastfeeding, not proofread cause i'm lazy & english isn't my first language, can be read as a standalone or follow-up to this fic. 2.4k words.
𝓷otes: this is a bit rushed and i'm not super proud of the ending but i really like this pairing so if anyone has requests for this storyline, please send them!! also big thanks to everyone who voted on the poll to name the baby
A certain stillness had taken over Summerhall. The halls were empty, and the castle itself seemed to be basking in a quiet relief, like the silence that settled after the storm. The birthing chambers smelt of fresh linens, and cloth scrubbed clean of blood. A fire burned lowly in the hearth, offering warmth for the small life that had just entered the world.
Tiny fingers flexed, a delicate hand curled around soft swaddling clothes. A girl, the maester had announced a mere hour ago, when she took her first breaths wailing. Her head of thick silver hair was visible from the cocoon she was wrapped in, the soft little wisps still dampened though the maester had diligently cleaned her of the vernix. The babe slept soundly, her small lips parted and still wet with milk from her first feeding.
“How is the little hatchling?”
Aerion's question pulled you from the peace of your mind, drawing your attention up to your husband. A weary smile pulled at your lips, face still glistening with sweat from the efforts it took to bring new life into the world. “The maester says all is well.”
Aerion only nodded, pleased with your tired reply for now. His brow wrinkled just slightly, and with a touch too tender for a man of such cruel nature, he reached out and touched the newborn's forehead. The babe stirred slightly, a small, humming sound as she shifted in her swaddling clothes and settled again. His forefinger traced her soft hairs, then down the line of her nose. His nose.
“A girl, I hear,” the prince said thoughtfully, withdrawing his hand to admire both mother and child. He had never been a man fond of soft things, but something deep within his chest tightened at the sight of the fragile being in your arms. His expression showed none of his confliction, carefully blank as he tilted his head.
“Does that upset you?” Your voice trembled faintly, eyes searching Aerion's impassive expression. This was different from Maegor's birth. Your husband had taken your firstborn into his arms, declaring him a strong little dragon. Now, there was only silence — thick and dreadfully brittle.
“No.” His reply came low in his throat, a mere mumbled word as though his thoughts were elsewhere. The babe stirred again, her small brow pinching as she blinked her eyes open. Violet irises fluttered up, a silent, innocent gaze meeting his own. Aerion swallowed. “Visenya.”
“What?”
“Her name.”
“Husband, I had hoped we would decide to-”
“Her name is Visenya.”
His tone was firm and unwavering, leaving no room for discussion. Aerion knew his children were strong, fierce dragons just as he was. They deserved names befitting of their lineage and succession. His jaw clenched, a muscle jumping along the bone as he met your gaze to await submission. You sighed, but offered a weary nod. Some fights were not worth pursuing, and this was one of them. Visenya was a strong name for a strong girl.
Aerion seemed pleased with your reluctant acceptance, a small smirk tugging at his lips before he forced it away. He looked back down at the small creature in your arms, reaching out to stroke her round cheek. “She has eaten, yes?”
“Mhm,” you hummed, laying further back against the plush pillows that had been stacked behind you, the cushion a well-needed respite from some of the ache in your spine. “I've never met a newborn with such an eagerness to feed. Even her brother was not so hungry when he was born.”
“She already has the greed of a dragon, then,” Aerion said with the faintest curve of his lips. His brief amusement was replaced with a quiet concern when he met your gaze. “You should rest. I know the turmoil of your labors has been taxing. I will see to it that the maester and nursemaids attend to you both. Here, hand her to me.”
With a quiet relief, you handed your husband your new daughter. Visenya stirred lightly, whining at the change of hands, but she settled down in her father's hold. Her small lips parted slightly around noisy breaths, her head cradled reverently in one of Aerion's hands.
It came to pass that Aerion held his greatest treasure in his arms. Not gold. Not a crown. Not a scaled dragon of his own. But her.
He leaned down, eyes fluttering closed as he pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Hello, Visenya.”
Evening had settled over Summerhall, and you had returned to the familiar comfort of your marital chambers from the birthing chambers. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting odd shadows against the walls as the last light of the sun slipped through sheer curtains. It was quiet and warm and serene, and you had once again grown accustomed to the weight of an infant in your arms.
Aerion sat on a velvet-lined settee by the hearth, dressed down to a loose tunic and breeches, a goblet of wine hanging haphazardly from his grip. The arbor gold had scarcely been touched, save for a few idle sips. The prince's attention was aimed towards you as you stood over Visenya's cradle. She was cradled in your arms, her small hands curled around your breast as she nursed eagerly. His gaze couldn't help but follow that loosely-fitted nightgown that slipped from your shoulder, revealing the delicate line of your throat and the curve of your spine as he admired you from behind. The picture before him was one of softness, the warm sunlight painting your figure in an angelic view, your face pulled into a tender look of love as you tended to his daughter.
Aerion exhaled slowly, his chest tightening up once again. He had never been a man prone to tenderness, but the sight of his wife and child did that odd thing it always did. It brought up warmth, like the fire within a dragon's belly.
He set his goblet down with a faint clink, rising to his feet. He approached with slow strides, careful not to disturb the delicate atmosphere that had taken over the chamber. He stopped behind you, peering over your shoulder to watch as Visenya drank hungrily. "Always so demanding, the little hatchling," Aerion murmured, though his eyes never left the baby’s face. He stepped closer, closing the small gap, his presence looming and warm. "She has her father's appetite for what is hers, it seems.”
He reached out, not for his daughter, but to catch a stray curl that had escaped your hairpins, winding the thick strand around his finger. His touch was deliberate, a silent claim. He already envied the ease with which Visenya could command your attention, much like Maegor, yet he found a twisted sort of pride in the way their newborn mirrored his own voracious nature. "Let her have her fill," Aerion commanded softly, his voice dropping to a velvet rasp as he leaned down, his breath ghosting against her ear. He placed a delicate kiss to the shell of it. "And once the little one is sated and dreaming of dragons, perhaps you might find a moment to attend to your husband. He has been quite patient, has he not?”
“Aerion,” you said his name lightly, head tilting just a bit when his lips grazed your ear. “You know we cannot do anything. The maester says it will take my body time to heal after this birth.”
“I am no fool, wife,” he said, the words heavy with a bit of sharpness at the offense he felt. Aerion knew well enough that your body needed rest, and he had not intended to imply otherwise. “Can a man not simply hold what is his? You look beautiful like this, my brave girl. Soft with motherhood, still rounded and mine. Besides, I fear this may be the one night I have until things return to as they were. Tomorrow, Maegor will meet his sibling, and once again, I shan't be able to tear him away from your side. The little wyrm is as clingy as a leech.”
You sighed quietly, a bit of tension leaving your shoulders. It was odd that your husband was not demanding anything more from you, but perhaps that was the reward for all of the hardships it took to bring forth life. A faint smile touched your lips, amused. “Are you asking me to cuddle, Aerion?”
“Cuddle,” he scoffed, repeating the word as though it had personally attacked him. “I am not asking to cuddle, I am asking to hold what is mine.”
Your smile didn't waver, but you knew better than to poke the dragon. “That sounds lovely.”
A faint, hesitant knock on the door broke the gentle moment.
Aerion exhaled lowly, pulling away from you and Visenya with a noise akin to a growl. He reached for the iron-wrought handle on the door. It swung open quietly, his hand firmly gripping the wooden edge. Whatever frustration he had felt now mounted to its peak, glaring at the nursemaid in front of him, and little Maegor holding onto her skirts. “The boy is supposed to be in bed.”
“Y- yes, your grace,” the nursemaid stuttered, avoiding his gaze like the plague. “But the prince insisted that he could not sleep without bidding goodnight to his mother.”
“Our lady needs her rest after childbirth. You know this.”
“Yes, my prince-”
Maegor stepped forward, reached to tug on the loose hem of Aerion's tunic. His lower lip jutted out in an exaggerated pout, his little brows furrowing as he looked up at his father. “Please, papa,” the boy pleaded, tugging on the red silk in his hands. “I want… I want to see mama!”
Aerion let out a heavy exhale, glancing over his shoulder to share a look with you. You relented, nodding. “Fine, then,” he said grumpily, guiding Maegor by the shoulder to enter the room. He didn't spare a glance at the nursemaid before dismissing her with a flippant wave of his hand. “Begone, wench.”
The door closed.
“You must be quiet, sweet Maegor,” you said gently as the boy approached. He appeared hesitant, his features — which were now beginning to look more and more like his father's with each passing day — were pinched with a quiet worry. He toddled across the bedchamber, violet eyes glued to the small form in your arms. “This is Visenya,” you explained, turning to face Maegor when he stopped by your side. “Your baby sister. Once she is done eating, you may hold her if you wish.”
Baby sister.
Those words lingered in the air, light on your breath but heavy as they landed on Maegor's ears. His frown deepened, his small chin quivering and something close to fear struck your heart. Your son looked seconds away from weeping, but startled at the sound of Aerion's voice.
“It seems you are no longer the one vying for your mother's attention. She won't have much time for us any longer.”
That did it. Something shattered on Maegor's small face, tears beginning to roll down his fat cheeks. He let out a small cry; high-pitched and hoarse in his throat before he turned away from you. For once in the two years of his life, he turned to his father for comfort, his arms wrapping around his leg.
“Aerion!” You hissed his name like a scathing scold, jaw trembling from how tightly it was clenched. Aerion had always been a jealous man, even when it came to your own son. He had always been prone to cruelties, but antagonizing Maegor was not something you would let happen while you sat idly by. “How dare you say such horrid things?”
“It's the truth.”
“No, it is not and you know it!”
Aerion pouted at that, one hand sliding down to rest upon Maegor's silver curls.
“Don't pout, it's unbecoming of a prince who calls himself a dragon,” you quipped, before your gaze landed on Maegor. He looked so pitiful, face hidden against Aerion's breeches. Once Visenya had unlatched, which only took a few seconds more, you settled her into her cradle. She didn't whimper or cry, clearly unperturbed by the chaos that had erupted around her. “Maegor.”
The boy didn't respond at first. He merely whined, sniffling against the fabric of the pants he now clung to. Slowly, hesitantly, he turned his head to meet your gaze. You smiled gently, approaching him. You offered your hand, a bridge between the distance that had suddenly been put between you. Maegor took it, his chubby hand slotting against your own as his tears began to slow. You guided your son to the shared bed in the center of the room, offering your arm to help him climb up onto the mattress.
Aerion watched from a few strides away, gaze darkened as you gently wiped away Maegor's tears with the sleeves of your nightgown. “Do not listen to your father. He says cruel things because they amuse him, not because they are true,” you urged, pressing a kiss to his forehead. You straightened up, one hand settling onto your son's small shoulder before you turned to adress both him and Aerion.
“My love is not a finite thing. It does not have to be split. All three of you are my family now, and I love you more than anything. You both should know that.” It was a statement mainly directed towards your husband, the last words laced with a hint of anger at his childish whims. “I will always have time for you.”
Aerion felt his cheeks flush with something he would not name. Guilt? Embarrassment? He blinked, avoiding your gaze as shame washed over him like a second skin. There were few who could tame the dragon, but your words made him see reason when his jealousy blinded him. He closed the distance between you, hands sliding down to gently cradle your hips as he stood behind you. “I'm sorry, my love,” he whispered so that only you may hear, ashamed that he had to stoop so low to begin with. He had been frustrated with the interruption, anger coiling in his chest when the quiet moment he had shared with you and Visenya had been shattered. But it was not fair to his son, and your words rang true in his mind. His lips found your neck in a slow kiss, a silent apology. “You just brought our daughter into this world. You should be resting, not dealing with my actions.”
Maegor sniffled, his hands reaching for the front of your gown. His little fists clenched around the soft linen. “Mama, I'm sorry, too,” he whined. He had no need to apologize, but he had watched with wide eyes as Aerion had done so first. You only breathed out a sigh, and ran your fingers through his silver.
“Now, Maegor, would you like to meet your sister?”
+ SUMMARY. before riding out of king’s landing, a beloved knight meets the lord commander’s sister.
+ WARNINGS. angst, fluff, gwayne hightower x cole!reader, reader is dornish, do not be surprised by her actions, criston’s soft spot is his sister. | @vlarrtrgryn @helaenalyst @callsign-blue @vesseltodd8z @randomnerdyfan @ghostlybfgf @0nlybitt3r4may @cherrybitchh222 @herballady @oldtowrs
Your footsteps coordinated with Alicent’s as the two of you headed outside to the courtyard. Your brother was outside, as his army and he prepared to march out of King’s Landing. You accompanied Alicent so you could bless your brother on this difficult journey.
You felt nervous for him, but surely he’s confronted worse, so you’re sure he is going to be safe, apart from the fact that he has his army at his fingertips, always there to protect him no matter what.
The warm weather and foul smell of rotting bodies and piss of King’s Landing hit you almost instantly when the doors of the Red Keep opened and you stepped outside.
Quickly, you saw your brother and your face lit up, you approached him and received each other with an embrace. When you separate, your brother quickly notices your strange expression.
“What have you done… to your hair?” You grimace and Criston chuckles. “Your hair was your best feature. What a shame.”
“‘Tis, but I am heading off, I don’t think I will need it anymore.” He shrugs. “You… on the other hand, keep your hair, please.”
“The thought of cutting it off has never crossed my mind and it never will.” You reply sarcastically.
“Good.” You and your older brother share a smile, you then grab his hand and inhale deeply.
“Be safe, brother. Come back. I’ll pray to the warrior but please, come back.” Criston holds your hand as well, nodding as you speak. His heart warms at your words and how you plead for his return. He knows you need him, he knows you need each other, for help and support.
You were only visiting your brother, and now here he is, heading off into battle again. And it pains you, your brother was a difficult person, but he is blood, he is family, and he was always there to do his brotherly duties such as protect you. Now he’s leaving, who will protect you?
“I will, dear sister.” You shut your eyes and smile. “In the time being…” You look at him, smile still holding. “Be good, don’t start any fights you’ll need me to finish.”
Your smile cracks into a laugh. A sound that could go unnoticed for those who know you, and lovingly to those who don’t. Your soft, yet ringing laugh caught some attention, you don’t hear that often, especially in a place like King’s Landing, not only because you have a distinct laugh, but because of that same reason, they knew it was you. All but one.
He looked to where the laugh boomed, but Criston was blocking his view, until you moved just an inch and he got a glimpse of your face. Of course, a laugh so beautiful could belong to someone so beautiful.
You continue to converse, but at his distance, Ser Gwayne had no idea what could possibly be spoken about for Criston to have you laughing like that. The second you step away so Alicent can properly send off Criston, Gwayne looks away, praying you didn’t catch him looking, no, staring, no, admiring you before tending to his horse.
He swallowed, hoping you weren’t looking over here so he could look at you again. When he raises his eyes, he’s taken aback to see you so close. Hands held together lovingly, soft smile that complemented your unique, dornish features.
“Hello.” Gwayne blinks, taking you in entirely. He doesn’t really know if you’re real. “I’ve never seen you around here before. What’s your name, Ser?” His horse steps toward you and you smile, caressing him softly.
“Forgive me, my Lady. I’m Ser Gwayne.” He tilts his head down.
“Hightower, correct?” You question, he inhales and nods regrettably as if he holds shame in that name, like he doesn’t wish to carry it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ser.” You stage your name and extend a hand and he takes it gently.
“The pleasure is all mine, my lady.” Your smile grows wider when he places his soft lips over your hand out of respect. His eyes remain on yours as he places your hand down slowly.
“Have you been to King’s Landing before, Ser Gwayne?” You ask and he nods.
“I have. I hate it every time.” You chuckle softly and nod.
“Many agree. Myself included.”
“I’ve never seen you around either. What brings you to King’s Landing? You’re not a maiden to the Queen because—“ your eyebrow raises and he stammers. “Certainly, you do not dress like one.”
“No, Ser Gwayne. I came to see my brother.” You inform, eyes squinting.
“How lovely. You and your brother share a tight bond, I assume?” Gwayne asks, hoping if he could find someone with a similar relationship to the one he holds with his sister.
“We do. We did? Well, we do. We did, but, he has bigger responsibilities now. Thankfully, we still do, but I do not know how long it will last.” You look down, Gwayne shuts his eyes, and sighs.
“I’m sorry to hear that my lady, I hope you and your brother can maintain a strong relationship, mayhaps stronger than ever before.” Gwayne says and you smile, nodding in agreement.
“Thank you, Ser Gwayne, that means well.” Silence falls between you, nothing more to say, nothing more to ask. But you’re drawn to Ser Gwayne, and you do not wish to let him go.
He’s handsome, not like Aemond or Aegon, he’s more reserved, and calm, at least by what he lets on, and you like that. He doesn’t even appear anxious. He’s sure of himself and confident you could tell by the way he placed that gentle kiss on your hand. Even by the way he stands, the way he rests over his sword, his head held high, and overall, eyes hovering over yours.
“You said your brother had bigger responsibilities now.” You hum. “Who is he?” He asks and you don’t know if he’s being serious, but either way, you answer truthfully.
“He’s the Lord Commander.” Gwayne’s face drops, because of the surprise that a girl like you is his sister. As if, he isn’t the Queen Dowager’s brother.
“Ser Criston Cole is your brother?” He questions and you hum.
“Is that so shocking?”
“No, not at all. You resemble each other, I just didn’t think a girl like you could be his sister.”
“Hm. You don’t know me.” You say.
“Yet.” Gwayne corrects. His eyes find yours awkwardly, hoping you’d catch what he meant, which you do, and you laugh. There it is again, only this time it’s softer, and better, because this time it was Gwayne who made you let go of that gorgeous laugh you hold.
“Okay. Ser Gwayne…” You begin. “Come back and I might take you up on such.” You smile and he looks down, as if attempting to hide the fact that his face has grown red. “Ser…” You speak and his head raises, looking at you attentively to what you will say. “You will be riding with my brother… keep him safe will you?” Gwayne looks behind you, your brother coming to focus, there he was, speaking with his younger sister. “I know he can be… difficult. But, he is my brother, he is all I have left in this world.” Gwayne blinks before his eyes are back on yours for the second time.
Those dark eyes, big and doe. Like a fawn who seeks her mother, fearful.
“For your sake, my lady… I will do as you ask.” You inhale deeply and nod.
“Thank you, Ser. I wish you well in the journey ahead of you. I trust you will be brave.” You turn, but Ser Gwayne quickly stops you.
“My lady. Forgive me for my boldness.” Gwayne steps closer to you, confident strides as he approaches you with caution. Now closer than before when you turn around. “But as you can see, I have no one to pray for me, nor even favor me…”
“Not even your sister?” You question.
“I fear my sister has favored someone else.” Your smile drops slowly, you follow Gwayne’s eyes behind you, and it is as he said. The view of the Queen Dowager and the Lord Commander is unmistakable. You scoff and turn back around.
“Ser Gwayne. I pray for your safety, your wellbeing and a safe return.” The two of you share a soft smile, eyes shining with amusement in the process.
“I thank my lady for her prayers.” You tilt your head down out of respect.
Ser Criston walks past you, sending the knight in front of you an awkward smile. You catch this moment and laugh to yourself. Your brother and his men mount their horses, preparing to march off. You look back at Gwayne who hasn’t even taken a step back to return to his horse. You won’t let him leave without what he wants. “It appears our moment is over.” Ser Gwayne looks behind him, the eye contact he shares with your brother speaks loudly. “If I don’t return, my lady—“
Just then, he was taken aback, but he didn’t stop. Your lips on his was something he wasn’t expecting upon your first interaction. And yet, here you stand, hands placed lovingly over his face and lips lying upon each other softly. Ser Gwayne didn’t want to touch you, for he feared he would remain there until the end of time, but when he did, you pulled away.
You chuckle at the surprised expression he holds when you open your eyes. You then inhale and remove your hand from Gwayne’s. “You are not bold enough, Ser Gwayne.” You lick your lips and smile, before turning back around and heading for the castle, standing just next to Alicent.
You feel her odd look on yours, but you dismiss her, paying close attention to not her but her brother who still stands in the same spot. You raise an eyebrow, hurrying him to get to his horse before the Lord Commander urges him.
When the doors of the gate shut, you feel this wave of uneasiness crashing over you, you feel as if they will face a difficult time, most of all you fear your brother will get himself or mayhaps even the entire army in trouble, your fear grows.
When Gwayne holds his sword up to Criston’s neck, he feels a bitter, hypocritical taste on his tongue that equally spits on Criston for not respecting a knight’s oath.
“You and I both wish to return to King’s Landing safely. I have my reasons, as do you.” Criston stands, Gwayne still holding his pointy sword to his neck, even drawing blood. “And it seems to be a personal one as well.” His nostrils flare, Gwayne’s breath hitching. “Yet here I stand. Not shaming you about it.” The red-haired knight blinks. Removing his sword from the Lord Commander’s neck.
The correct thing would be to apologize, but Gwayne didn’t, he simply walked off. Then his mind started to run, until it halted at the image of you. Your dark hair and equally dark eyes, yet light and soft laugh, and the kind smile. How will you take him when he tells you he held his sword to your dear brother’s neck? All you ever asked was to keep him safe, and here he is, a failure at that.
Though Gwayne disliked Criston from the start, he managed not to kill him, or step over the line just because of you, in all honesty, the only thing that kept his hand off his sword was the mere thought of returning to King’s Landing, no, returning to you. Just the thought of getting to know you, who you are exactly, how you are, he wishes to see and understand you, maybe he will finally find a reason to put his knighthood to rest, as if it were that easy.
Outside you waited everyday, just to see if your brother turned around, or if he decided to come early, or if he even finished his mission early, but in reality, you weren’t looking out just for him, you weren’t even sure if you were looking for him, you knew he would be safe, but Gods were you so curious about the Hightower knight, the Queen Dowager even spoke about him, after your first interaction, she spoke kindly about him only making your curiosity for the Knight peak.
okay, so, not that anyone has brought this to my attention, but i’ve been wanting to say this. since i started writing ff, i have always used “—“ between sentences, or when a character is cut off, some may associate that with chatgpt or ai, and i am here to state that I NEVER use ai of any sort nor WILL i, this is a anti-ai blog and i am i anti-ai person, i do not use any ai of any sorts in my works, and as i said i never will, these are all original work and ideas, so yeah, that’s it <3 FUCK AI
It is said that Jacaerys Velaryon leapt free and clung to a piece of smoking wreckage for a few heartbeats, until some crossbowmen on the nearest Myrish ship began loosing quarrels at him. The prince was struck once, and then again. More and more Myrmen brought crossbows to bear. Finally one quarrel took him through the neck, and Jace was swallowed by the sea.
down below is a separate masterlist i have dedicated to my dc related works, where you will find some series’ i didn’t list in the previous masterlist. these are all my original work, please do not plagiarize or steal my work without my consent. happy reading, enjoy .ᐟ
clark kent.
against all odds 𖤝 one of the many things you and clark have in common is your undying love for each other, but, none of you know about that. when clark realizes you’re not coming back to the daily planet, is when he decides to take the risk and tell you—but, is he too late?
chihiro 𖤝 kal has to do something neither of you agree on, but it’s what metropolis depends on.
like a tattoo 𖤝 clark kent recently moved to metropolis and he wants you to show him around.
no one noticed 𖤝 clark loves you, but he also loves being superman, in order to keep being him, he has to do what he fears the most.
shows and jokes 𖤝 you and clark attempt to bake a cake, until clark brings up your little stunt during a fight last night.
clark kent.
hold on, we’re going home 𖤝 your school has a football game against smallville. after the game clark kent approaches you and asks if you want to hang out, but there’s one problem.
down below is a separate masterlist i have dedicated to my asoiaf related works, where you will find some series’ i didn’t list in the previous masterlist. these are all my original work, please do not plagiarize or steal my work without my consent. happy reading, enjoy .ᐟ
aerion targaryen.
all over your mouth 𖤝 after aerion got attacked during a puppet show he caused trouble at, he meets you in your shared quarters—his pouring blood awakes you, your desire becomes stronger to the point where you cannot hold back.
ultraviolence 𖤝 at a banquet celebrating the marriage of your family members, aerion spots you dancing joyfully with your twin brother when he begins to seethe in jealousy, and a break of fresh air you so desired, takes a turn.
try me 𖤝 you just got word your boyfriend cheated on you, you’re disgusted, you’re angry, but throughout this, you’re with your best friend, and the ideas she placed in your mind about seeking revenge with your ex’s hot roommate replayed when you went to pick your stuff from you ex’s apartment. ── modern!aerion.
cockiness 𖤝 during a house party in your hometown in lys, your drunk self locks eyes with a sober aerion targaryen, who then gets drunk on you. ── modern! aerion.
valarr targaryen.
nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter 𖤝 you have always yearned valarr, he was the perfect man to you, but you did not act on those feelings due to your promise to aerion, your betrothed. but what happens when baelor’s death make those mutual feelings stronger? ── pt i.
in the night 𖤝 during the commemoration of prince baelor, you had kissed valarr and you had absolutely no regrets or sympathy for your betrothed, aerion, until you step into his chambers, but then spot valarr, what happens when your mixed emotions threaten to spill out? ── pt ii.
down below will be all of the works i have published and those to come. these are all my original work, please do not plagiarize or steal my work without my consent. happy reading, enjoy .ᐟ
i was listening to seven minutes in heaven by mindless self indulgence when all of the sudden i got the urge to make a modern!aerion fic inspired by it… 😳
yousharknotpass
origamiaround
pixelskylines
ellievsbear
