Reblogged
secret double life
sidney crosby x f!actress!reader
fc: dianna agron
Reblogged
𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧ʷˢ²
in which will's arm becomes your canvas in the moments you need it most.
warnings; anxiety, bullying (pre-school), BRIEF mention of parents fighting, but other than that, pure fluff. if you can think of others, please don't hesitate to let me know!
You had met Will Smith in pre-school. On the first day that you had stepped inside the classroom, you had been captivated by his blond hair and blue eyes. His hair had been neatly cut, safely tucked behind his ears, while his eyes matched perfectly with his charming smile. Even at four years old, he had you wrapped around his finger.
You didn't get the chance to talk to him, however, until the winter of that school year. You had always been the anxious type, finding it hard to reach out and speak to your classmates. So, you didn't. Ultimately, that led to a group of boys catching you on the slide, alone, during recess one day. It was a typical Massachusetts day for that time of year - a white blanket of snow enveloped the state, and the ice on the ground was as smooth as glass. But in that moment, none of that had mattered. A brown-haired boy in the group had approached first, asking the question everyone wanted to know the answer to.
"Why don't you talk?"
Those words stung. It wasn't like you didn't want to. It just felt like your mouth was zipped shut and someone had thrown out the key to unlock it every time you tried to speak.
So, naturally, you didn't answer.
A few moments later, another boy stepped forward, "Aww, is the little baby too afraid to speak?"
You took a deep breath, trying to gather yourself, but it was clear that you weren't going to get out of this one easily. Despite your observation, you carefully hopped off of the slide you were perched on and turned your back to the boys as you attempted to walk away. You had only made it a few steps when you felt a hard shove from behind - one that made you fall face first onto the ground. Your face burrowed itself into the thick layer of snow that had blanketed the ground, the cold powder stinging your face. You tried to burrow into the safety of your heavy winter coat, but not even that worked.
You could hear the muffled laughs of the boys behind you, one shouting, "Mute freak!" and the other shouting, "Scaredy-cat!" Suddenly, however, a third voice had joined the conversation. The voice was both recognizable and unrecognizable to you, both comforting yet oddly familiar. That was enough for you to gather the strength to look up from the ground.
"Leave her alone!"
It was Will.
His neatly-trimmed blond hair had grown shaggy over time, the wisps of it curling at the nape of his neck. A white winter hat was covering the rest, but you could almost see the way it was curled at the top of his head. A flame of anger was dancing in his usually icy blue eyes, and his smile was no longer charming, only frustrated.
He shoved the two boys back, but not hard enough for them to fall to the ground. That didn’t matter, however. Will had the upper hand - he had a few inches on both of the boys, which meant that in their eyes, he towered over them. Without any other words being spoken, the two boys ran off in fear, occasionally looking back only to find Will glaring at them as he carefully walked over to you.
As he approached you, he offered a compassionate smile, one that would’ve made you feel better if your face wasn’t going numb from the snow. He grabbed your hands and helped you sit up, his gloved hands immediately going to gently brush the snow off of your face.
You flinched in surprise, but the soft material felt comforting against your rosy cheeks. He glanced at you as if to ask if it was okay for him to continue, and you nodded softly. Once he was done, he wiped his snow-covered gloves on the material of his puffy coat - no doubt one his mom made him wear - and offered a gentle hand to help you up off of the ground.
“I’m William, but I go by Will,” he smiled, his hand lingering in yours until he knew for sure that you were safely off of the ground. When he let go, your hands immediately went to fumble with the hem of your hoodie in both anxiety and relief.
You weren’t sure what, but something washed over you, and timidly yet undoubtedly, you raised your voice.
“I’m Y/N.”
And that was the first time you talked to one of your classmates. That classmate just happened to be Will Smith.
As the year went on, you and Will grew inseparable. He continued to be the only classmate you talked to, but he didn't seem to mind. Everyone around you wondered why Will received your special treatment, but the truth of the matter was that he was the only one who made you feel safe. He never judged you for your anxiety, but instead welcomed it because even at four years old, he knew it was apart of you.
Later in spring, you were having a particularly bad day when Will handed you a pack of markers. He had recently turned five, a milestone you were still waiting on, and he received the package of colored ink as one of his gifts. He opened the table's cubby to reveal some coloring books, but as he placed them down, he felt your hand grab his wrist.
Without a word, you had taken the cap off of a light blue marker and began drawing a flower on his skin. Will hesitated for a moment, but when he took sight of your face, he could see the way your eyes visibly drained of worry as you traced the ink. So, naturally, he continued to let you do it.
Little did you know that that tradition would last for fourteen years.
Even at 19, the tradition of drawing on Will’s skin had become second nature, something neither of you ever questioned anymore. He constantly had markings on his skin from you, but he didn’t mind. It was a quiet way for you to find your balance in waves of emotions and for him to remind you that you were never alone.
It had been a long day for you. You had come over after a family dinner that had left your nerves frayed, your usual quietness amplified to the point that Will could tell something was wrong the second you walked in. Now, hours later, you sat on his bed, your legs cocooned into your chest as if that would provide you with any sense of comfort. Your mind was racing with more bad thoughts than good. The faint glow of “Ratatouille” illuminated the room through the screen of Will’s laptop, but neither of you seemed too interested.
Will glanced at you, catching the way your knees were pulled up to your chest, your fingers picking at the hem of your sweatshirt like they had the first time he met you. Without a word, he reached over to his desk, opened his top drawer, and grabbed the same pack of markers that had been sitting there since you were kids — the ones he had received for his 5th birthday — and held them out to you.
You glanced up at him slowly, your eyes meeting his blue ones. The flames of worry dancing in them almost matched the yellow marker you had grabbed from him. Will leaned back against his headboard, watching you through half-lidded eyes. “You’ve been quiet tonight,” he said softly, his voice breaking the silence but not the calm.
With the marker in your hand, you forced arm down until his wrist was stretched out in your lap. You were focused, your brow furrowed in that familiar way as you worked on filling the empty space of his skin with tiny, intricate designs.
You didn’t look up, the marker stilling for only a second before continuing its careful strokes. “Just thinking,” you murmured, the words barely audible over the scratch of ink against his skin. Will sighed softly, gently grabbing your chin with his free hand to get you to look at him.
“About what?”
You hesitated, your hand pausing again. Your eyes flickered up to meet his, and for a moment, you looked like you might change the subject. But then you sighed and went back to drawing, your voice low, “Dreams, I guess. The future. If my parents stop fighting. If I’ll ever feel… well, less like this.”
Will didn’t need to ask what this meant. He’d been your best friend long enough to know—this was the restlessness, the anxiety, the weight you carried in moments like these. Hell, it was the weight you carried all the time. He watched as you traced another flower on his wrist, your hand steady despite the storm you clearly felt inside.
His heart broke, but he didn’t falter.
“You will,” he said simply, the steadiness in his voice making you chuckle slightly.
Your lips curved into the faintest smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes, “You make it sound easy.”
Will smiled softly, the compassion he’d always held for you radiating through him, “It’s not. But you’ll get there,” he said, leaning forward just enough so that your knees touched. “And until then, you can keep putting your dreams on me.” He tilted his head, gesturing toward the growing garden of flowers and stars you were creating.
You let out a soft laugh, the sound warming the room. It was the first time Will had heard you laugh all day, “Dreams?“
Will shook his head, his grin small but sincere, “These are the outlines of what’s in your head, Y/N/N — your dreams, your worries, all of it. You’ve been doing it since we were five years old.”
You laughed, your eyes meeting his again, “But what makes you think they’re my dreams?”
“They constantly change,” he explained, a wisp of his blond curls falling in front of his eyes. He looked exactly like the four year old you had met on the playground that winter day. “When we were six, you drew rocket ships because all you wanted was to be an astronaut. And when we were 11, I constantly had drawings of cats and dogs on my wrists because you wanted to be a veterinarian. And last year, you drew the Boston College logo over and over again because you wanted me to be happy at B.C.”
“And what about my worries?”
“They remain more steady, but I don’t mind carrying them for awhile,” he whispered softly, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear.
Your marker stilled, and for a moment, you just looked at him, your chest feeling a little lighter in a way only Will could manage. Then, with a soft smile, you added one last detail to the sunflower you’d been working on—a tiny heart at the center.
“You’re so corny,” you said, placing his arm back in his lap.
Will smirked, lifting it to admire your work, “And you’re the one who just drew a heart. Who’s corny now?”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the quiet laugh that slipped out. You tucked your legs under you, leaning back against the headboard beside him. He might’ve been corny, but he meant more to you than you could ever know,“You’ll always be my favorite sketchbook, you know.”
Will nudged your shoulder lightly, the marker still in his other hand, “And you’ll always be a flower on my skin.”
Neither of you said anything else after that, the room settling into a comfortable silence. But the outlines of your dreams stayed etched on Will’s arm, just like they always would.
a/n; this might be one of my favorite works that i’ve ever written. i hope you guys enjoyed this as much as i did!
Reblogged
Anonymous asked:
Either older Sidney Crosby and younger girlfriend and her trying to teach him how to talk dirty or like phone sex? 👀 and she’s a bit shy even if she’s trying to show him how to or smth 😭😭
your thumbs hover over your phone screen, that wicked little smirk tugging at your lips. you can already picture sidney’s reaction—brows furrowing, jaw clenching, maybe even rubbing the back of his neck like he does when he’s confused or flustered. he’s never been much for talking dirty, never saw the point of it when he could just show you exactly how he felt when he was home. but he’s not home. he’s halfway across the country on a road trip, and you’ve been going out of your mind without him. needy, restless, barely sleeping because your body is so used to his weight pressing into the mattress beside you.
so you decide to have a little fun with him.
you: miss you. wish you were here. i’m all warm and needy without you. :(
you hit send and wait, biting your lip, anticipation curling low in your stomach. his response comes in less than a minute.
sidney: it’s cold in winnipeg.
you blink. stare. let out a little laugh, because of course that’s his answer.
you: …baby. that is not the appropriate response.
sidney: what? i’m just saying. you’re warm, i’m freezing my ass off.
you groan, flopping back against the pillows. you should have expected this. sidney doesn’t do sexting, doesn’t really get the whole point of it. he’s a man of action, not words. but you’re determined to drag him into this with you, to make him understand just how much you need him right now.
you: sid. i’m trying to be sexy here.
sidney: oh.
a pause. then:
sidney: you’re always sexy.
your heart clenches a little, because god, he’s so sweet. but that’s not the point.
you: i know, baby. but i mean… i’m in bed. thinking about you. thinking about how good you make me feel.
there. he has to get that, right?
sidney: that’s nice. get some rest, okay?
your fingers tighten around your phone. of course. of course he doesn’t get it.
you huff, flopping back against your pillows. the ache between your thighs has been driving you crazy all week, and the most frustrating part? he doesn’t even seem to realize what he’s doing to you. he’s gone for days at a time, cooped up in hotels, playing game after game, while you’re stuck at home, climbing the walls with frustration. you just want something—anything—to take the edge off. and yet, whenever you bring up phone sex, he just... doesn’t get it.
sidney: are you okay? you need me to call you?
you groan. he’s so sweet it’s infuriating.
you: baby, no. i need you to miss me the way i miss you.
three dots pop up. disappear. pop up again. disappear again.
oh, this is going to take some work.
your fingers tap against your screen as you wait, watching those damn three dots flicker in and out of existence. he’s thinking. poor thing, his big, overworked hockey brain must be short-circuiting at the thought of you being needy for him. the problem isn’t that he doesn’t want you. he just doesn’t know what the hell he’s supposed to say.
finally, his message appears.
sidney: of course i miss you. you know that.
you sigh, dragging your free hand down your face. yeah, emotionally, he gets it. but that’s not what you need right now, is it? you need him wrecked over you. you need him to know that you’re in his t-shirt, rolling restlessly in bed, pressing your thighs together just thinking about him. you need him to feel as desperate as you do, so maybe—just maybe—he’ll learn to play along.
you: then prove it.
sidney: how?
god, you love him, but sometimes you want to shake him.
you: tell me what you’d do if you were here.
this time, he replies a little faster.
sidney: i’d hold you.
you bite your lip, half-swooning, half-growling in frustration. sweet, yes. sexy? no.
you: try again.
sidney: i’d kiss you.
you: and?
there’s another long pause. you can practically see him now—sitting in some generic hotel room, frowning down at his phone, completely at a loss. this man can pin a guy to the boards at full speed without hesitation, but ask him to tell his girlfriend how he’d fuck her? he’s clueless.
but not for long.
your thumbs hover over the keyboard before you decide to up the ante.
you: baby, if you were here, i’d climb into your lap. i’d straddle you. you’d let me, right?
a few seconds later, his response pops up.
sidney: of course. i love when you do that.
good. good. he’s following. time to push.
you: what do you love about it?
another pause, but shorter this time. he’s catching on.
sidney: you’re so warm. so soft. i like how small you feel against me.
you: you like that i’m smaller than you?
sidney: yeah. i like how easy it is to move you.
you suck in a breath. there it is.
you: baby, if you were here, i’d let you move me however you wanted.
the dots appear instantly. vanish. appear again.
he’s thinking about it.
sidney: what do you mean?
you: i mean i want you to tell me. how would you move me? how would you touch me?
you wait. and wait. and wait.
and then—
sidney: call me.
your stomach flips. oh. oh, he’s ready now.
Reblogged
Anonymous asked:
hi! I love your Apollo fics sm can I please request a fic we’re the reader is Percy’s older sister and she finds out there’s like a prophecy of her marrying Apollo and then like they eventually meet and fall and love and then what there marriage is like
𓇼 the sun & the sea 𓇼 〰✷〰
— apollo / lester x daughter of poseidon!reader
☆ radiostar is playin': hot rod by dayglow...!
summary: There is a prophecy waiting for you to listen to it and although it may not be something you expect or consider possible. You know what they say about prophecies…they can't fail to come true.
warnings: none BUT long read, literally. got out of hand and i couldn't stop writing. that's bad? oh, fuck me, i'm sorry. a/n: i appreciate your request, thank you (although I think I changed it a little, sorry). HEAR ME OUT I feel like I owe a lot of love to those who love Apollo, so that's why I didn't entertain the idea of making this long. Hope you like I know it's long, but I promise I did my best to make it bearable and fun, I swear. 😭
“The sea and the sun are not far away as they look…”
They told you to stay away from the attic of The Big House, but they never told you why.
“Only he can go up”, they said, and it seemed stupid to you because he was your younger brother; you were supposed to protect him.
“It's very dangerous”, they told you while Annabeth went up, even though you were a couple of years older than her.
“Only if you lead some quest, but…” but no, because as the years went by, they made sure to remind you of your place. They told you that you were powerful, smart, and capable, because, yes, you were Poseidon's firstborn, but not the chosen one. That was Percy, your brother. Did it hurt? Yes, as an older sister, you tend to aspire to greatness and be an example, but you didn't die; you got over it.
“What does it matter? Less work for me” you said as you watched your brother's back on all the missions. Anyway, you ended up stuck in his destiny.
“His destiny. But then, what's mine?” you wondered. Then, when you took a step near Rachel Dare's cave, they stopped you too.
“It's–”
“Dangerous.” You completed the familiar phrase with a look of disgust, avoiding Chiron's eyes. He just looked at you with pity, thinking to himself that if you went in there, you could cause more trouble for your father or Olympus… Or everyone; it would be a war among all the Olympians, something they didn't need with Titan Kronos already on their heels.
Dionysus gave you his typical mocking smile, the same one that made you want to grab the can of Diet Coke and throw it right at his disgusting Christmas-reindeer-red nose.
“It would be so interesting, but we don't need it,” he said as he dragged you away from Rachel with Chiron.
You weren't stupid, you knew there was some good reason. But damn, those fossils were sneaky and never let you get to your redheaded companion, who also avoided you like the plague. Between those two things, you never managed to achieve it. Even less so after you ended up fighting on the Argo II with your new friends, straight from real Greece.
Oh, man, if you had thought Kronos was a damn old grump, Gaea was an old ball-buster. You didn't even have time to think about your future when you didn't know if you had one.
After the second war is when you started to throw in the towel about the future. You realized that the last thing you wanted to know at that moment was whether you would have to fight against twelve more Titans, return to Tartarus, or travel to Alaska again.
New Rome became your new home, and you only waited for Percy to catch up with you along with everyone else. That is, until you returned home to pack new things and didn't find your brother studying just as he should be.
— Mom? — You asked when she came back from shopping.
She gave you that look, and you cursed.
— Relax, he'll be back in a while; he just went to drop off Apollo or well, now he's Lester because apparently he's no longer a god but Zeus…
— Wow. Wait, what?
As a hero of Olympus, touching, seeing, or talking to the gods was never impossible for you; in fact, it was much more usual for your taste, and although you had been through too much already, that was new. So, you found yourself immediately traveling to Long Island Sound on the back of a Pegasus, looking for your brother. You wouldn't let Apollo, Lester, or whatever he called himself now take your brother away to distract him with his godly stuff that surely wouldn't lead to anything good.
— Where's Percy?! — You shouted in the dining hall, making the campers flinch.
Chiron got up from his seat, and from there, he smiled at you, but it only put you in a worse mood.
— Dear, it's been a long journey. Please, sit and eat with us.
You lowered your head without taking your eyes off Chiron and tightened the dagger on your belt. There was no reason for it, you knew, but you couldn't help feeling that fury after knowing everything you had been through. Percy deserved a break.
— Where's my brother? — The pause between words made the campers squirm in their uncomfortable seats. They had heard about you, about everyone. to be exact, in the third lesson of history in their camp classes.
— He left Apollo and Meg in a field not far from here — Chiron decided to sit back down and began to spread the tablecloth nervously. — He probably should have already reached home while you were flying here.
You sighed, and as you relaxed your body, everyone seemed to feel relieved.
— He has exams, Chiron — He nodded, and you made your way to the table where he was.
— In fact, there are problems, and apparently, he promised to come back this weekend — Your eyebrows furrowed again, and Dionysus laughed.
— Girl, shouldn't you be in New Rome?
— I went home for a few more things, also taking the opportunity to see my family, and it turns out that my little brother was helping an ex god who can't fend for himself, risking his studies. — You replied without looking at him — And speaking of brothers, you should control yours, Mr. D.
The god of wine snorted, and you formed a mocking smile. — Insolent.
— Miss Jackson — Chiron intervened, and you softened your gaze toward him — You can stay tonight, you know you're welcome and after all, it's too late to travel on Pegasus.
You didn't argue with them; you'd never put your pegasus in danger. So, for the first time in a long time, you returned to your cabin, the same one you shared with Percy and Tyson for so many years, and you had to admit that you missed him. At dawn, you were preparing to travel, and you left at the moment you thought no one was watching you, how wrong you were because a few meters away, Apollo was hidden behind the cabin piles, admiring you from afar.
— She… — He felt his heart tighten, and his gaze unfocused. He cursed his mortal body for how weak it was.
— Pervert! — Meg shouted, alerting the other campers who turned confused, and Apollo blushed.
— Shut up, I'm not a pervert — He smiled exaggeratedly at the others, pretending a smile and letting them know that everything was fine.
— You saw her — Said a voice behind him once Meg was far enough away to hear. The brunette turned and smiled sheepishly.
— For a second — Apollo replied, avoiding his old friend's gaze; embarrassment nibbled at his body, and it became evident once his cheeks glowed.
Chiron had never seen him… like that, so young, embarrassed, and notably imperfect, but despite Apollo's opinions about his recent change, he thought it suited him well, even found it amusing.
— You remember…
— I remember it well, Chiron — Apollo blushed even more — That's why I didn't approach her; dealing with my father's wrath is enough. Now I don't want to annoy Poseidon or I'll probably wake up dead on the lake shore tomorrow.
He played with the tips of his sneakers as buried them in the rocks on the floor; he looked like a scared little boy, but Chiron didn't judge him.
— I think you know what it means when she's around when you're close.
The ex god didn't want to pay attention, but he knew he was right.
— Although I remember who she is… there’s a problem. I don't remember how to avoid her…— Apollo's blue eyes looked directly at Chiron's, and the urgency on his face told him he was telling the truth. — If I don't know now, it's going to be harder; all I can do is hide if she's near.
— We've lasted many years with this circus, and as much as I respect the lord of the seas, I don't think this will last long. And you know what's more stubborn than a son of the sea god?
— The sea god — Apollo raised his eyebrows in annoyance, and Chiron resisted rolling his eyes.
— Fate, Apollo. You know it well, things are written. The prophecy is still there; it exists, and all we've done is delay the inevitable.
The brunette nodded with annoyance and waved his hand dismissively.
Although he wanted to pretend that he didn't care, the anxiety of what was to come ate at him. He knew very well that it wouldn't take long for you to discover what all these years had been hidden from you. If Apollo reflected better on that, he wasn't sure he wanted to continue keeping it to himself, either, 'cause those years had been torture for him. Yeah, he knew that you weren't yet mature enough for your mind to be stained with the weight of a prophecy that, unlike the others, not had to do with some quest or some imminent danger that threatened the entire world; but now you are in college, he couldn't wait for you to know.
The thing was, your father thought that the one who could be in danger was you, his precious daughter since Apollo was selfish, arrogant, and immature to have been around for eons. Poseidon could not fully explain the reason The Fates had woven such a destiny for you. So, until things had and could happen at the right time, in the right way, he warned Apollo to be close to you and he knew so well that be such an idiot idea to make him angry.
Before his thoughts could swallow him, Apollo shake them off and sigh to Chiron.
— Right now, I have a bigger problem. I think we've found something.
— Where?
— Here — Chiron frowned, and Apollo looked towards the camp's forest. — My dear friend, you have the Grove of Dodona here, in your playground.
Apollo didn't know that of all the decisions he had made in his life, avoid you was the best one he could make, because even if you had met that day or before, with the things that were about to happen to him, he wouldn't come back as half the man he was.
“Things at the moment, in time” the fates whispered in some place.
Reblogged
— A BOY WHO’S JACKED AND KIND
jason todd x reader summary: you trick jason into participating in a certain tiktok trend a/n: a little drabble because I’ve been doomscrolling on tiktok and jason is most definitely jacked and kind and I need him desperately
You can tell that Jason is getting more annoyed by the second. He can’t continue reading his book for longer than five minutes at a time before glancing up at you from across the room with a curious frown. You move around the kitchen fixing yourself an iced coffee while absentmindedly scrolling through your phone and occasionally letting out a laugh or smiling.
By the sixth time you let out a snort, Jason decided he’s had enough and shuts his book, flinging it onto the coffee table before walking over to join you in the kitchen. “What’s making you smile that isn’t me, babe?”
“Huh?” You pull your eyes away from your phone to see Jason attempting a casual pose, leaning against the refrigerator, but he’s borderline pouting. You bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing at him and shake your head. “It’s nothing, just some videos.”
“What kind of videos?” he asks quietly, reaching out to start playing with a strand of your hair that’s escaped your claw clip as if by reflex. He’s still frowning slightly and you roll your eyes, deciding to put him out of his misery.
Reblogged
*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ "in the dead of night"･ﾟ✧*: ･ﾟ✧*
pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!Reader
words: 7000
summary: when Jace is attending a late council meeting, two hired assassins take their chance to sneak into your chambers and hold you captive. Taken to the dragon caves below and meant to be slain by your own betrothed’s dragon, you have to trust the bond between Vermax and you is strong enough to escape your captor’s murderous plans.
warnings: soft!reader, fluffy start but HEAVY angst (reader being held captive by two assassins similar to Blood and Cheese), physical violence (slapping, hair pulling), verbal abuse, threats of rape and violence, Vermax being Vermax and also protective of reader, hurt/comfort, shock and crying, Jacaerys being a caring betrothed, Rhaenyra being the best mother in law, aftermath of trauma, healing, hopeful ending
a/n: please mind the warnings for this story, it’s my angstiest so far! Big thanks to @princessvelaryon and @princesschimchim1325 for being awesome and inspiring me to write this!
˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
You smiled to yourself as you held two small wooden figures in your hands, a princess and a prince, their hands linked together and small attires made of cotton and wool. When you were younger, you remembered playing with them for hours, creating little scenarios of the prince who might sweep you off your feet someday.
Now, many years later, you had found the love of your life in Prince Jacaerys.
Ever since your own parents had died too young, Jace’s family had welcomed you as if you were one of them by blood, making you a home at Dragonstone and accepting you with open arms as theirs. Perhaps, a huge part of it was because Rhaenyra’s oldest son had been in love with you ever since he had first laid eyes on you, but there was more to it. His mother adored you and you got alone with his siblings and cousins and brought a joy into their house that was much needed in those dark times of war.
This afternoon, you were sitting on the soft fur carpet in one of the big living rooms of the castle, Rhaenyra’s twins peacefully playing with their wooden toys all around you. Earlier, Baela and Rhaena had joined you for a chat and the newest gossip, but you didn’t mind being alone with the kids as well, your own inner child always coming down around their soft souls.
You let out a playful gasp as little Viserys assembled a row of knights on their horses along the imaginary street you had built together. “Are your noble knights going to a tournament, Vis?”
this is gorgeous
Reblogged
Anonymous asked:
For the calvin klein photoshoot, Jace can be a model and dating famous reader with a Sabrina Carpenter vibe/humor and he didn't tell her about the campaign because he's shy and insecure sometimes and she boosts his confidence
This was longer, but I didn't like the second half so I turned it into a blurb
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Waking up to sexy pictures of your boyfriend all over Instagram was not on your bingo card this year. At first, you thought it was a manip made by his fans — some were really good at editing —, but when you saw the photoshoot on Jace's personal account you realized they were real.
And damn he looked hot!
Calvin Klein were known for their underwear campaigns. Jacob Elordi, Jeremy Allen White, Aaron Taylor-Johnson, and more, have done it...and made women's — and men’s — jaws drop when they dropped. You would be a liar if you said you didn’t watch Jeremy Allen White’s #mycalvins campaign video fifty times.
Reblogged riddlesbunny
PRINCE JACAERYS VELARYON; THE FIRSTBORN, THE SOLDIER, THE TRAGEDY
inspired by this post by @allyriadayne
house of the dragon s01e08 / tory adkisson, anectode of a pig / george r. r. martin, the world of ice and fire / tomasz jedruszek, the death of jacaerys and vermax / unknown, i am a poor wayfaring stranger / george r. r. martin, fire & blood / doug wheatley, illustrations for fire & blood / peter paul rubens, st. sebastian / house of the dragon s01e06 / michael dante dimartino, leaves from the vine / josé saramago, cain / josefa de ayala - the sacrificial lamb / callie siskel, mourner's logic / mitski, last words of a shooting star / house of the dragon s2 / sam mendes, 1917
Reblogged
jacaerys velaryon is the boy that will search how to garden just so he can plant all your favorite flowers. he is the boy that will write you letters, dedicating you a song in every note. he is the boy that will hold your hand everywhere you go. he is the boy that will run across campus to get to your class, he will puff and huff but he will be there minutes before you come out so he can take you to lunch. he is the boy that will have rhaenyra’s heart full that someone loves her boy just as much as she does. he is the boy that will crave your attention at any given moment, laying his head on your lap when you’re reading, or even scrolling on your phone. he is the boy that will comb your hair softly, stare at you as you sleep in his arms. he is the boy that will mumble under his breath how beautiful you are even if you’re just smiling at him. he is the boy that will always look at you with the same eyes he first saw you with, with a small smile and heart eyes, he will look at you like you are an angel that grazed this world. he is the boy that will be your personal cheerleader, hyping you, encouraging you. he is the boy that will daydream how life will be with you. he is the boy that will kiss all over your face, his heart soaring bc of how you laugh. he is the boy that will hug you tightly, his face buried into your neck, sighing in utter relief as if all the stress and burden just disappeared from his shoulders.
jacaerys velaryon is the boy that will give you his heart in all the small and big ways, but most importantly he will be the one to be your last.
THIS IS SO CUTE!
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astrxq-deactivated20250217
Anonymous asked:
Hey! I love The Dragon's Bride so much, I must have read it like 5 times already. You have beautiful writing and the fact that it's 17k is even better.
If your requests are still open, I wanted to throw an idea your way. Seeing how isolated the Blacks are getting, with the Greens conquering everything around them by land, Rhaenyra is desperate to forge another alliance that will bring her more ground stability. The perfect lord that can bring this to her only wants one thing in return: for his grandson to be the future king. So she is forced to break Jace's engagement to Baela so he can marry the lord's only daughter instead. That angst because Jace has feelings for Baela before the fluff of him discovering his feelings for his new wife like fjehdhw
It's totally okay if you don't vibe with the idea and don't want to write it btw!!
Conspiracy of Hearts
jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader
words: 23k
notes: thank you sooooo much anon <33, i love long fics (as you can probably tell) and i'm so so glad you enjoyed it. non-canon events, jace x baela at times, a made up lord. a bit of angst?? - fluffy. unnecessarily long fic, i apologize. i am NOT proud of this one 😭
The air in the great hall of Dragonstone was thick with tension, the stone walls seeming to close in as Queen Rhaenyra paced before the ancient Painted Table. The room was eerily quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the hearth fire and the soft rustle of her skirts as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Her fingers traced the carved coastline of Westeros, lingering over the territories that had fallen to the Greens’ hands.
"Your Grace," a voice called from beyond the heavy oak doors. "Prince Jacaerys has arrived."
Rhaenyra straightened, composing herself with visible effort. "Send him in," she commanded, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her eyes.
The doors swung open, and Jacaerys Velaryon strode in. At nine-and-ten, he was already a man grown, with the bearing of one much older. His hands rested on his sword as he approached his mother with calm.
"Your Grace," he said, bowing his head respectfully. "You summoned me?"
Rhaenyra's gaze softened as it fell upon her eldest son. "Jace," she began, then faltered. For a moment, the mask of queenship slipped, revealing the anguish beneath. "I'm afraid I have dire news."
Jace's posture stiffened, bracing himself for whatever blow was to come.
"The Greens have taken Tumbleton," Rhaenyra continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "Our hold on the Reach is slipping. If we do not act soon, all will be lost."
Jace nodded gravely. "What would you have me do, Mother? I can fly to Tumbleton on Vermax, rally our forces–"
"No," Rhaenyra cut him off sharply. "I need you here, Jace. What I ask of you... it is not a battle to be fought with dragon fire, but with words and... promises."
I LOVE THIS SO MUCH! ITS SO GOOD!