#but he does Not take jon's offer to listen
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tired of people acting like will wasn’t also pulling away from everybody on his own part :/
#out.#me vs fan favorite woobifiction round thousand billion and two#like Yeah i think we're supposed to pick up on mike's weirdo behavior based on the airport scene but i don't think. him at the rink was that#but the fandom seems to have taken it that way? like it Isn't all on mike and when mike points that out will has Nothing#he just stands there grappling for an excuse but he doesn't have one other than He's In Love With His Best Friend And Can't Say It#and will's conversation with jon? WHY is it even a take that jon was stoned ALL the time?#jon says he Misses how they used to talk and like yeah he's been dealing with his own shit but that never got in the way of he and will b4?#jon's always had shit to deal with but he's Always made time for will#but people are acting like he would've have dropped everything had will just reached out#even in that actual conversation!! jon reaches out and will can only parrot the kindness back to him#but he does Not take jon's offer to listen#he's still too scared to so he says he's always there for jon too which is true but it's also a clear decline in that moment#to accept what jon's offering him#so jon just says he knows will is of course he does and holds him because he gets it even if will can't even say it#NONE of this is bad on will's part but he is absolutely pulling away from everybody#sorry for the tag vent but i Need people to stop acting like nobody cares about will when he has SO many people in his corner#that isn't the issue!! the issue is that he's so so scared and he already has so much trauma linked to leaning on others for support#it's just too much to unpack when the world needs saving again and he finally knows For Sure he's gay no buts about it#it's just too much but his level of rock bottom is NOT due to not having anybody there ready and willing to catch him#it's just not ty <3#st4 spoilers //#OOPS BFHDF#sorry i've just seen these takes in so many fics already it's driving me nuts bsdkfjs
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Trailer park Steve AU part 46
part 1 | part 45 | ao3
cw: recreational drinking
Somewhere around the second chorus, Nancy finally stops twirling, head down and eyes closed as she wobbles dangerously in place — Steve can see Jon tensing just in case he needs to jump in and save her from busting her ass — and when she looks up, her eyes lock on Steve like she's seeing him for the first time in forty years.
“Steeeeeve!” she slurs, smile sloshing over her features like a splash of spilled punch.
Good god. “Hey, Nance.”
She reaches over and paws at his arm, a swiping motion like she's either about to yank him in for a hug or wipe some lint off his sleeve, and says, “Steve, I— I, um- can- can we...?”
With a determined look in her glossy eyes, she pitches forward and slams into him. Steve goes flopping backward into a squishy leather armchair and lands with a lapful of Nancy. Nancy Wheeler, the ex who dumped him at a party not unlike this one. Who left him for a guy standing a foot and a half away.
Who's snickering into the crook of his neck now as she clings to his shoulders to try and stop herself from slinking sideways to the floor.
Steve throws Eddie and Jonathan matching looks — something between 'this okay?' and 'what the actual fuck?' — but Jon just shrugs like what're ya gonna do? and Eddie gives him a quick wink and turns his attention back to the boys.
Super helpful, Ed. Thanks so fucking much.
“Hiii,” Nancy giggles, looping her arms tighter around his neck to hold herself upright. It should seem flirty, but it doesn’t, somehow. Feels more like… sisterly concern?
Feels fucking weird, is what.
“Hi,” he says a little stiffly, his arms hovering in a loose bracket on either side of her in case she topples. He feels a little bad for being standoffish when she's in a sweet and friendly mood; doesn't want to be a buzzkill, but he doesn't exactly know what to do with an armful of happy-go-lucky hammered Nance.
Never did, really, because he couldn’t ever tell when it was genuine or not. Which was kinda the whole problem, wasn’t it?
Nancy pokes at the edge of the frown he didn't realize he was making. "Aw, don't..." she mumbles with a wounded little sound, her eyes sliding over his face, head bobbling like she's standing on the deck of a ship. “Or do," she hiccups and swallows a burp. Her lower lip trembles. "I prob'ly deser— deserve it."
Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He would've killed for this conversation twelve months ago; would've killed to hear it sober and asking for him back.
Now he mostly feels bad for making her feel bad, even though she’s not exactly wrong. Maybe she did deserve it, once. But not here; not now. “No, you don’t,” he sighs and lets his arm skim her waist. “You don’t. You should be enjoying the party, I’m sorry.”
She protests with an almost violent shake of her head. “No,” she insists, overenunciating the word. “No. I do. I was…"
She straightens her spine and stares at him like she's trying to bore a hole through his head; like this is important. Like there's a cut on her hand and gasoline in the carpet. "I was bullshit.” She jabs her pointer finger against her breastbone. “I was.”
Steve blinks at her. Feels tears bead in his eyes and slither into his sinuses. Gently, he reaches out and pushes down on the back of her hand; guides it away from her chest until it falls back to her lap.
“Think maybe we both were,” he offers with a quiet sniff. Takes a second to just breathe, sharp and wet through his nose. “Thank you, though. For saying that. Means a lot.”
Her eyes still look sad, but the corners of her mouth lift in a small, hopeful tick. “It does?”
“Yeah.”
Across the room, someone clambers onto a kitchen counter and hollers, "Hey! Listen up!"
The music pauses; the moment breaks. The crowd turns to the guy, who cups his hands around his mouth and announces, “Fifteen minutes to midnight! Find your make-out buddy, folks!"
Commotion as everyone scrambles to pair up: Nancy looks at Jonathan and stumbles off Steve’s lap; Gareth stares forlornly at a girl over by the stairs; Frank purses his lips and tells Jeff to start puckerin’, princess, and Jeff laughs and shoves him with a playful "fuck off, dude."
Eddie’s only got eyes for Steve.
He’s staring right at him, eyes lit up with desire; twinkling stars in deep woods. “Get a refill with me?” he asks as he offers Steve a hand.
Steve stands and does his best not to sway into Eddie’s arms.
“Oh, my god," Robin mutters over the rim of her cup, "so we’re not seeing you two again tonight."
“What was that?” Steve asks. Eddie sticks his tongue out at her.
“Nothing, dinguses,” she sighs. “Happy new year.”
Steve wishes her the same, reaching out to link their pinkies and giving hers a quick squeeze. Pinky hug; love you, too. As he and Eddie shuffle past, Steve sees Argyle turn to Robin and casually try to shoot his shot.
“Hey, pretty bird lady…” he starts.
Oh, Jesus Christ.
Robin responds by making crazy eyes and bleating out a nervous laugh that roughly translates to sorry sorry sorry sorry and never in a million years; Steve's tempted to lean over and clap a hand over her mouth to put her out of her gay misery, but Argyle's the most chill dude on the planet, apparently, because he doesn't even seem fazed.
“No sweat, my guy,” he shrugs and extends a closed hand. “Midnight fist bump instead?”
—
part 47
tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)
#trailer park steve au#steddie#steddie fic#steve harrington#eddie munson#robin buckley#nancy wheeler#jonathan byers#argyle stranger things#corroded coffin#my writing#my fic
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“oh clearly jon feels no emotions and is in complete control of himself at all times. this man is a logic machine.”
did we??? listen to the same podcast?????? this man feels first, thinks later. there is a strong emotion? get ready for jonathan jarchivist sims to act on it with little-to-no second thoughts. rational thinking who. we throw ourselves full force at the first thought that comes into our head. like, we are talking about the man who:
busted into the office of a guy he hadn’t talked to more than twice since he woke up from a six month coma, sincerely offering to gouge out his eyes and run away with him, and was Absolutely Gobsmacked when he was refused
was prefectly ready to let a face-stealing monster live… right up until it reminded him that it had killed his friend without him realizing (that “…what did you say” is one of the lines that gives me GOOSEBUMPS every time)
dove headfirst into a pile of evil sentient worms to grab a tape recorder bc he was so determined to not die as aNOTHER GODDAMN MYSTERY
let his survivor’s guilt from when he was eight drive the major decisions he made for the rest of his life
threw himself into a fear dimension of evil loneliness to save the man he loved (who had refused to speak to him for months) at the probable expense of himself who knows
had so much MALICE in his voice when he killed peter lukas like damn girl you do not get that emotional when you’re just killing someone bc they’re evil or whatever. there was Hatred there. go off queen.
literally was willing to sacrifice an entire WORLD so that no one would ever f e e l what he had to feel when jonah voicesnatched him
LITERALLY speedran a love story in like six weeks in scotland. this man was SO READY to be in love it’s ridiculous. so was martin. I love them sm
heard his predecessor was dead
came to the conclusion that he was next
what should we do with this?
oh I know
stalk every one of my coworkers bc clearly one of them is out to get me
committed himself to living in the archives forever bc he didn’t want to put georgie or “god forbid the admiral” in danger (has his priorities STRAIGHT he does)
oh annabelle caine has martin? and an artifact that completely knocks me on my ass and takes away all my powers? off to hilltop road we go come on basira we have spider ass to kick
threw himself into a coffin to save a woman who LITERALLY was ABOUT TO KILL HIM bc he just wanted to HELP and everyone around him was HURTING SO MUCH
was insulted when a statement giver called the institute stupid and immediately discarded all professionalism and clapped back by calling her wildly successful youtube series dumb
also immediately discarded all professionalism when disgusted by a teeth apple “we do NOT want it.” like damn bro this traumatized doctor brought this bone apple teeth proof in for you and you are too grossed out to grin and bear it
was slightly annoyed by the fact that martin was not the Ideal Assistant. Offhandedly mentioned on an official recording that he wanted an evil flesh witch to slowly kill his literal employee by a series of freak accidents that resulted in the loss of one body part at a time. this man has no chill whatsoever.
took so much satisfaction in killing jonah magnus. like jonah told him not to be dramatic and jon PROMPTLY started monologuing while stabbing douchard directly in the chest.
“I don’t want to die”
“Neither did they.” FUCK YES QUEEN GO OFF GET HIS SMARMY VICTORIAN ASS
sounded so SMUG when he told the eye he was gonna go apologize to his boyfriend. like yeah stupid all-powerful fear god I have a BOYfriend and I LOVE him suck on THAT
remember when he decided to doom his whole world bc he wanted to stop anyone else from feeling like he did? yeah that plan went out the window fuckin imMEDIATely as soon as his beloved martin walked into the room. oh, he’s in the world I’m going to be dooming? well fuck didn’t consider that part. welp guess he’s just gonna have to stab me. and then we will hold each other and declare our love and kiss and hope to still be alive and together somehow as the world collapses around us. our love didn’t save us but it was here and that mattered. okay list cancelled I’m gonna go curl up in a ball for a little bit. ty for your time.
#jonathan sims#the archivist#tma#tma spoilers#the magnus archives#jonmartin#listen martin got a list of unhinged actions#now jon gets his own list of no thoughts head empty only vibes#balanced#as all things should be
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You know, the civilian Bruce au is so funny to me, just because of the whole situation with Talia.
Like can you imagine:
Bruce: *acts like a himbo*
Talia: Well I can't just not fuck him now can I?
I think Damian was created by taking Bruce's DNA?
Ra's: Who's DNA did you take to make this baby?
Talia:...
Ra's: WHOSE DNA-
Just imagine Damian leaving to go live with his father and expecting him to be this powerful warrior or something and instead getting this rich himbo.
Damian: I'm the blood son, so I will be the one to inherit his legacy!
Tim...you wanna be a doctor that bad?
Damian: What
Like, his father doesn't know about his children's vigilantism, he doesn't even know that Talia was an assassin from the league, he doesn't even know what the league is. Mother why?
If he wants to be a vigilante as well he has to listen to his adoptive brothers, which really grates him. He also has to keep it from Bruce, which he really doesn't get.
Bruce just keeps accidentally guilt tripping Damian into a normal child.
Bruce: I'm just so glad our family is getting along. I just don't what I would do if you didn't like your brothers 🥹
Damian, who is definitely not getting along with his brothers:...yeah...
Do you think he'd inherit his mother's taste in men?
Jon: *does something stupid*
Damian, near tears: I think I get it now mother, I'm sorry I kink shamed you.
Okokok I getchu, but I also need to add here that Bruce’s parents were certainly not normal and He certainly isnt normal. His parents read motherfuckin The Veldt by Ray Bradbury to him as a BEDTIME STORY!!
The Story in Summary: the Hadley family, two kids and their mom and dad, live in this automated home that can do anything for them. It can cook, clean, wash the kids, put them to bed, anything household work like you can imagine, it can do.
Kids have a VR Room called The Nursery. The Nursery is stuck visually showing an African landscape (w/ lions eating dead carcasses in the background and people screaming). They call a Psychologist for answers of this landscape. Psychologist tells them to turn off the house. The Hadley’s agree. They doubt their parenting abilities but this guy helped reassure them that doing this will help their issues. The kids protest heavily but the parents’s resolve is firm. They tell their kids they can visit The Nursery one last time.
The parents talk about the kids a bit more before going into The Nursery to collect the kids. They are met with a pride of lions. The screams they heard in The Nursery before is reminiscent as the ones they are currently making as the Lions tear into them.
The psychologist goes to check on the kids. They are in the Nursery having tea. It’s still the African Savanna. Lions are feasting on two bodies far in the distance.
The psychologist realizes what has been done. A child offers him tea like nothing is wrong.
That’s the story. Its a very shitty summary but its the best I could do with my current brain functionality. But can you imagine why I think that’s a Not Normal Parenting Tactic for the average child?
I have the personal belief that Bruce’s parents were quite eccentric and a tad on the strange side. You dont grow up stewing in your own grief and then decide to become a vigilante crime fighter after a traumatic event with a regular upbringing.
All I’m saying is that if you’re going the Civilian!Bruce route, he’s absolutely protective of his kids, but his personality would still have some similarities to the OG Bruce Wayne. Still enjoys working out and maybe this time he actually gets those copious amounts of injuries doing eccentric Rich people sports and getting hurt from trying to pull off wild as hell stunts.
He isn’t a man who doesn’t do anything when he’s in the line of fire. He still has learned self defense and knows damn well how to fight and fight back, just not to the degree of a vigilante.
I’m unsure how to fully characterize a Bruce who his parent’s death never consumed his entire being and made him into Batman but this man certainly will pretend to be a himbo in front of the press. He might not have that playboy guise anymore because normally its a way to hide his Batman identity. He certainly doesn’t have the Batcave but you bet your ass that this man HAS tried to go spelunking in the caves below his house.
Idk that’s all I got for this but its just me adding on with my thoughts. Bruce unknowingly keeping the boys grounded in normal life actives in a way that means more for the boys than Bruce would ever understand or realize is some good shit.
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whoa no way more jon headcanons…
-POINTY elbows. he could kill you with them
-quick to fall asleep and quick to wake up. will pass out literally anywhere, and will jolt awake as soon as hes up.
-can and will fall asleep anywhere
-listens to mostly popular music from when he was growing up + anything his grandmother happened to play when he was a kid. doesnt often get into new music
-has a lot of music on CDs he never uses. he used to use them in a car but now he just takes the tube to work
-used to wear clear nail polish so he wouldnt bite his nails. he found he just bit them when they were long and not as a nervous habit so he stopped
-^^ still sometimes wore it for fun while he was dating georgie. theyd make an activity out of it. not really something he does on his own though
-him and sasha got along very quickly because they both enjoy arguing and friendly debates
-has horrible balance, but almost never actually falls down. like ever
-keeps all sorts of pain medication on him, another reason him and sasha got along well quickly. theyre both chronic headache havers.
-only social media he has is twitter
-never checks his emails until he gets sickeningly bored or feels like he needs to be doing something Productive in his down time
-he has a resting sad face. he fixes this by always being annoyed and looking like it
-truly hates reading digitally
-quit smoking just to prove to himself he could go cold turkey
-tim offered several times to go to physical therapy with jon/help him out afterwards post prentiss
-in season 4 he got a mini fridge in his office so he and daisy wouldnt have to go anywhere for a drink. it was always fully stocked with a lot of juice
-^^ he HATES orange juice with pulp and for some reason this has shocked a lot of people
#tma#the magnus archives#jonathan sims#jon sims#tma headcanons#magpod#timothy stoker#sasha james#jeadcanons
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Shoot: Esquire Spain, November 2019
Photographer: JuanKR
Interviewer: Ana Trasobares
Grooming: Kristen Ingersoll
Full interview, behind the scenes, outtakes & shoot photographs below. 👇🏻
Jett's Pedro's Shoots Masterlist
• Cover shot and original images used in the magazine.
• Outtakes and behind the scenes images.
Behind the scenes shots of Pedro trying on outfits by Kristin Ingersoll:
• BTS Video
• Full Interview translated from Spanish
It’s a splendid day in Beverly Hills, but even more when Pedro Pascal walks through the door.
The protagonist of Narcos and in some chapters of Game of Thrones, is one of those guys who just shows up and gives off a good vibe. And there’s no pretending. Hours go by and not only does he not disappoint, but he goes on to become more: nice, kind, affectionate, a joker - very Latin and very normal.
This meeting in Los Angeles coincides with the premiere of his latest work, The Mandalorian, the most anticipated series by the amount of followers that the Star Wars universe drags. On November 12, Disney+ will launch its streaming platform in the US, Canada and the Netherlands and, among its offering, the first season of this series. While in Spain we will have to wait until March 31.
We spoke on the phone with its protagonist.
Who is the Mandalorian?
He is a lone gunslinger who lives adventures on the edge of the galaxy, one of those that appears in the famous Star Wars canteen where some play music, others play cards, others make or end a deal… all seem to live outside of the law.
Why have you been so excited to star in this series?
When the creator and director, Jon Favreau, called me, I was really crazy because I, like millions of children, have grown up admiring the Star Wars universe. George Lucas is an icon of our culture, he belongs to our happiest memories, so it didn’t take me half a second to say yes.
What was the first movie you saw in the saga?
I saw the first 3 installments in a movie theater in San Antonio, Texas, when I was very young. My father was a doctor and a die-hard movie buff. He took us to the movies three times a week.
Is that why you became an actor?
Sure, because of him [laughs]. He got me the idea by taking me so much to the movies. I must have been 3 the first time I went. Normal for those images to stay with me, right?
Listening to an actor so beloved in Spain on the other end of the phone is sometimes strange, but other times feels familiar. He speaks Spanish fluently, with some Latin expressions and others in English, but they all come from his soul, because he is one of those who has grown up between the two worlds.
His family left Chile when he wasn’t even a one year old, fleeing from the Pinochet dictatorship. Denmark was their first destination as political refugees, and the US was the country which later welcomed them and saw them grow. Texas, New York, Madrid, Los Angeles, Bogotá, Mexico City, London, Santiago de Chile… all places he likes to call as home.
With your resume and the current situation around you, it is impossible not to wonder about political refugees in general and the Trump wall in particular?
We are all afraid and anxious about the actions that Trump is taking. One tries to understand the historical and political context that we live in, but the only thing that is clear to us is that we're hoping that these are the last steps of a fascist, and the only thing he sells us is fear and lies. What is happening economically and culturally, that we have to live these extremes? We should all have the same rights because we all have the same needs.
How would you define Trump?
If ego were an image that would be Trump. This is their politics inside and outside of the US, and it's very disheartening not knowing yet who will win, the good guys or the bad guys. How am I going to feel safe with a person who doesn’t want to help others when they have the power to do so?
Do you think he will last long in power?
I don’t know, nor are the limits or the ethics of politics that should maintain the balance in society very clear. It scares me to see the truth die, because the truth is worth less every day. This is why we are so lost.
Pedro Pascal doesn't want to continue talking about politics. He says he would understand perfectly if someone told him that he was getting where they were not called, so we changed third.
As the protagonist of Narcos, let’s talk about drugs. In Europe, many think that legalizing them would end drug trafficking. Do you agree?
Drugs are a recurring theme for fiction because they portray a society, culture and intrigue that occurs around them because they are illegal.
And what do you think?
…What can I tell you, since my genes are of very liberal and left-wing blood, okay?
And he laughs. Caught the hint, there is no choice but to talk about cinema and after climate change.
Is the power of the Latin entertainment sector in the US appear to be true?
Yes, because the Latino public is getting better and better, so the Latin marketing and industry is also getting very strong. In this sense, Hollywood and cinema are lagging behind and should adapt to the new times, as streaming platforms do. These new avenues of entertainment do reflect reality by telling stories that represent the Latino public. After all, it's just another business.
How do you imagine the planet in 2050, if we continue to take care of it so little?
What scientists have been spreading for years must be put into practice. It is the least we can do if we want to save our home for future generations. It is also important that governments and those in power enforce these rules. As long as no action is taken, we will continue to oscillate between fear and hope.
Are you an activist?
My contribution, in addition to the small and necessary daily gestures, is not having children [laughs] …
Seriously? There is a current that encourages not having offspring so as not to end the planet’s resources. You are one of them?
[More laughter]… Well, I don’t agree with applying measures to control the birth rate because having a child is a very emotional need, so I fully understand parents because, I am Uncle Pedro, by the way. I have ten nephews and I assure you that without them I could not live. If we do things well, it is positive that people can continue to have families…
And he starts laughing as he shares a reflection, “pathetic”, as he says: “As I'm still single and childless, I can afford to drink water from a plastic bottle without feeling horrible, right?”
Looking forward to seeing him in The Mandalorian and next June in theaters in Wonder Woman 1984, we say goodbye to Pascal with one last question that we hope will bring you good proposals.
Pedro, when are you coming to work in Spain?
Please, I’m looking forward to being invited! Put it in big letters, that I would love to work in Spain! As soon as I can, I will escape and come to see you.
Jett's Pedro's Shoots Masterlist
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal magazine#pedro pascal photo shoot#pedro pascal photos#pedro pascal words#jose pedro balmaceda pascal
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Ko-fi thank-you sentences for @qwertynerd97, cat, and Necer0s; the wet nurse omegaverse.
"Here, let’s just set up on the coffee table, why don’t we," Bruce says, pushing the scant few knick-knacks and books on it down to the far end and sparing a last calculating glance for Carl, who has a hand on both Lor and Jon’s backs and is petting them both with heavy, steady strokes as he goes back to that low and rumbling purring. Jon is visibly melting into him; Lor is already functionally a liquid.
Bruce is still a little concerned that Lor might have difficulty digesting human milk, but all things considered, this seems to be going unexpectedly well. Apparently the list of prioritized nutrients he sent over to all those agencies is finally paying off.
Carl keeps purring like a very quiet engine and clearly doesn't care about anyone else in the room at all, including Tim and Damian. Tim looks a little relieved by that, for some reason; Damian just looks irritated. Bruce doubts he'd ever want to nurse from a wet nurse, considering, but not being offered the opportunity probably still feels like an insult to him. Still, he's not in Lor's pack, never mind his and Jon's not-quite-formed pack bonds that everyone else has been politely not mentioning in order to avoid making a thing. It's normal for pups to try and pack up with their friends, especially when they're particularly close ones, even if said packing up doesn't always succeed or pan out in the long term.
It's just not normal for Damian, so again, they've all been avoiding mentioning it just yet.
“Yes, of course, Alpha Wayne,” Travers says stiffly, setting out her paperwork on the coffee table in a tidy, easy-access arrangement. She's more than a little questionable as a chaperone, but at least she's efficient, Bruce supposes, which means her personal files should be easy enough to investigate when he asks Barbara to break into them. “The contract is the standard setup, but of course we can go over it as thoroughly as you’d like. Er–well, actually, if you’d like Carly to do direct nursing, it’ll be the A contract, not the B, but I have copies of that too.”
Small favors, Bruce thinks. Saves waiting for the office to email or fax it over, at least.
“Sounds good,” he says, leaning over the coffee table to glance at the papers she’s laying out. “Alright to take a look, Clark?”
“That’s fine, yes,” Clark says, flicking his eyes away from Jon and Lor and Carl and putting on a pleasant smile as he steps up beside Bruce and looks down at the papers himself. He makes a show of adjusting his glasses and leaning over too, as if he isn’t in possession of vision that could read paperwork with a font half this size from the opposite end of a football field without so much as squinting. Tim visibly resists the urge to come over too, being Tim and always wanting as much information as possible. Alfred has more patience and Damian just isn’t interested, Jon and Lor are both understandably distracted, and Carl is just continuing to ignore everyone that isn’t actively cuddled up to him, so otherwise they have all the space in the world.
“We strive to keep the contracts as straightforward as possible, of course, but there are a few necessary clauses and disclaimers,” Travers says, gesturing at the paperwork as she lays out the last sheet, and then proceeds to explain said clauses and disclaimers in agonizing detail. Bruce listens to and absorbs the information, resenting the entire conversation as something that could’ve absolutely been an email and also half the length it currently is, but keeps a touch of attention on Carl and the pups.
Jon ducks his head against Carl’s chest when he finishes nursing and . . . sniffs, once, very quietly. And then blinks, very quickly.
Clark’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say anything. Bruce decides to defer to him.
Carl does not, and starts purring louder and drags Jon up to bury his face in the scent gland in his throat without even bothering to fix his shirt. His pheromones are clumsy, unrefined things, not the kind of clear and straightforward communication that an omega his age should know how to push through their scent, but they’re still omega-sweet and all-encompassing enough to fill up the room. He smells not quite comforting, perhaps, but warm and sweet as milk and strong and solid and present: the kind of protective and certain and promised scent that Bruce is more used to associating with powerful and secure omegas like Clark and Diana than random stray civilians who’ve barely presented.
So it’s not particularly surprising when Jon plasters himself against Carl and lets out a very, very quiet sob against his scent gland. Carl wraps his arm tighter around him and purrs at him as he inexpertly nuzzles his hair. Damian bristles, glaring at Carl, and for some reason Tim’s face is very red, but Alfred projects soothing reassurance through his own pheromones and Damian’s hackles . . . well, they don’t go down, exactly, but he also doesn’t try to attack Carl, so Bruce will take it.
Clark swallows, looking pained, and keeps his eyes on the paperwork.
So yes, he’s very upset about this, if he’s not going to Jon right now.
Travers looks stressed again but doesn’t say anything about the situation, just keeps carefully explaining the contracts. They do seem to be fairly standard arrangements from what Bruce has researched in regards to wet nurse agencies, and there aren’t any particular red flags so far. Some unnecessarily archaic language and a bit of benevolent sexism on behalf of Carl, who rolls his eyes when he hears it, but nothing explicitly concerning. Bruce glances towards Clark, because Clark’s the omega here and therefore likelier to notice an abuse an alpha might not, but he doesn’t look concerned either. Well–about Jon, obviously, but not the contract.
“And of course the agency can arrange an alpha, for propriety’s sake,” Travers continues, and then Bruce finds himself very concerned.
“I'm sorry?” he says as Clark bristles beside him. Bruce attempts to find any possible way to interpret that “of course” that doesn’t involve a goddamn arranged mating in the interest of him not having to worry about an omega under his roof having the right to make any paternity claims against him if they just so “happen” to get pupped. Politely phrased, obviously, because they’re in mixed company and the Waterton Agency has manners, but still no kind of subtle for anyone who knows those manners.
“The fuck do they need with an alpha?” Carl asks, wrinkling his nose in confusion, and Bruce is reminded that Carl does not know those manners. Which means Carl has no idea what Travers just offered on his behalf.
Goddammit.
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Character headcanons
Damian Wayne
@camo-wolf
1. He's Ambidextrous, meaning he can write and draw with both of his hands without any problem. He usually perfers using his right one though
2. Unlike canon, Damian actually loves rock music instead of fancy classical ones. He just thought that he actually liked classical ones more since that's the genere he would usually always hear around himself more while growing up, but once he started listening to rock ones, he fell in love. Jason is the one who actually loves classical
3. He dyes his hair temporarily green sometimes on the tips or just a streak of it and sometimes wears small black earrings in different shapes (round, square, diamond, etc.). He also paints his nails in the color black sometimes too (Jon was the one who got him to like doing this after offering to paint his nails for him before a few times during some of their past sleepovers together)
4. He's actually pretty short next to a lot of kids around his age. It's just that Jon is the one who really makes him feel like a shorty with how much taller he is than others, especially since he's supposed to be younger and teases him so much about it
5. He got Jon into manga (I imagine that Jon was the type to only stick to just the anime's before this). Now they trade mangas with eachother all the time if they already read all of their own and want to get into new ones. They both also always get so invested into the stories when talking about it to eachother too
6. His favorite Spidey is Gwen Stacy, since he likes her style and the fact that she can do ballet like him in the movies and uses some of those moves during combat too. He also really likes Miles too since they both love drawing and also because of the determination he has to choose his own path in the second movie, which he can relate to a lot as well since he has such big expectations from everyone else for his future, which is becoming the next future leader of the League of assassins or becoming the next Batman for Gotham City, instead of just letting him decide to do his own thing
7. He does NOT be calling Talia by her real name like how some writers make him do in canon. He actually has respect for her and always calls her Mother
8. He's a sneaky food thief when eating with his siblings. Whenever he sees something on their plate that he likes, he'll take it when they're not looking and is always quick and successful about it. He does it more to Tim though since he's usually the one in the family who's always eating goodies. It happens to him so much that Tim is the only one who's starting to catch up on it being him who's always stealing from him and everyone else
9. When he was way more younger (4-6 years old), he was the type of kid that loved making a bunch of many weird, goofy and scary faces at people all the time on purpose. Talia always thought it was so adorable
10. He always draws on top of all of his sketchbook covers, creating his own special, unique covers on each book
Thanks for the ask, camo!!!
#Damian wayne#Damian al ghul#Damian al ghul wayne#Robin#dc robin#robin dc#Damian wayne robin#Supersons#Super sons#Jon kent#Superboy#Jonathan kent#Jonathan samuel kent#Jon el#Tim drake
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i saw ai jonsa art yesterday that had sansa in a red dress & somehow that sparked this. i really like the au of rhaegar lives lately & the red dress reminded me of the targaryen colors so it was my excuse to write this little piece.
She appears in the grand hall dressed in Targaryen red.
Somehow, it suits her, despite the fire in her hair. She wears it well, a snug fitting gown with long, fitted sleeves, much like the ones she’d have worn in the North. It is a stark contrast to the gowns of the South, making her all the more alluring there among the women with breasts and skin on display for all to see. Their queen to be is modest, yet she’s stylish all the same, and even now he can hear whispers of the women who say they will have lace and silk insets sewn into their bodices.
He watches her from the dias, standing beside his father’s throne, which stands empty considering he is there with his future wife on his arm. Aegon, no, Jon as she’s christened him, scowls, shaking his head as he watches her laugh, head thrown back so the ivory skin of her throat is exposed. He wonders, just briefly, what it might feel like to sink his teeth into that soft skin. He wonders what that red gown would look like on the floor of his chambers, rather than adorned to her body.
“Aegon,” his father speaks suddenly, drawing him out of his own thoughts.
Looking up, he finds him standing there, his bride to be left in the crowd, though she looks quite at home there among the courtiers. “Father,” he replies, offering the man a quick bow, as was expected of him.
“Your betrothed is a woman of wit and beauty, you are lucky my son,” Rhaegar says as he sinks onto his throne. In some ways, she reminds him of his Lyanna. “Look at her even make Ser Barriston smile,” he says and sure enough, the stony faced soldier is grinning as he listens to her speak words they cannot hear. “I know you are against this marriage, but she will be a good wife to you.” Rhaegar continues on, knowing his son would rather marry for love, would rather perhaps even sell himself to the role of a soldier. To be anything but the prince of a realm, that was his only dream. To his surprise, his son does not shake his head, does not scowl- rather, he sighs. “She will be a good queen for you. For the realm.” Where he would be somber, she would smile. She would be the queen to blow kisses from the balcony, who would nurse the sick in the streets, unafraid to be seen near the poorest of men, the sickest of children.
“Aye,” he says, because he’s got no reason to argue.
Rhaegar smiles, but the music begins once more, silencing him for a long moment. “The court would enjoy seeing you dance with your betrothed,” he says, a demand, not a request. He heaves another sigh but makes his way down the dias, pushing into the crowd until he reaches her side.
She turns to him at once, dipping a curtsy, her blue eyes glimmering in the torchlight. “May I have this dance, my lady?” He questions, holding out his hand for her to take; a moment later, she does so, the touch of her hand in his sending electric shocks through this entire frame. He draws it to his lips for a kiss, ever the courtier, and she’s eyeing him as if she sees through every moment, through every gesture, though she smiles all the same.
They dance, because that is what’s expected of them.
But when it’s over, he keeps hold of her hand, gray eyes seeking blue. “Walk with me?” He asks and she smiles, nodding. They’ve been here before, after all. So she loops her arm through his and falls into step at his side, the crowd parting to let them through, while from his throne, Rhaegar watches with a smug sort of smile before he turns back to the conversation he’d been having with another lord.
Out in the moonlight, Jon leads her down the stone steps and through the garden gate, the swell of the music from the Red Keep lingering through the night as they go. “It’s a lovely ball,” she says as they step into an alcove, shrouded by flowering bushes and lush greenery. There’s a stone bench there that he leads her to, settling into place beside her. In their few weeks of knowing one another, it would seem that this spot in particular had become theirs, for this was not the first nor even the second time they’d sat there among the flowers. “But you don’t seem to be enjoying yourself.”
Jon blinks and then chuckles, shaking his head, caught off guard as usual by her ability to see right through him. “These functions aren’t really my thing,” he admits, leaning back so he can look up into the starry sky above them. “You on the other hand…” he turns back to her and she’s blushing, lips curving with a hesitant sort of smile. “It’s as if this was what you were born to do.” She fell into court life so easily, with elegant curtsies and an ability to always have the right thing to say. Despite being from the North, she fit in among the Southern court as if she’d been born and raised. “You look beautiful in that gown.” He says next and again she’s blushing, stammering over her thank you as she looks down at her hands twisting in her lap. “Somehow, Targaryen red suits you more than it ever did me.”
She looks back up at this, blue eyes meeting gray. “You’re quite like my father, he too always wears but black and gray.” Sansa smiles, thinking fondly of the father she’d left behind in Winterfell, an honorable man with a reserved smile much like Jon’s. “But it fits you, I think.” She does not know this prince very well yet, but somehow, his black clothes seem fitting. Somehow, she cannot imagine him in anything else. “You dance well enough for a prince who says he doesn’t enjoy these sort of functions.”
Jon’s eyes widen and now he’s the one blushing, stammering over his reply. “I do enjoy dancing,” he finally admits, kicking at the dirt with his toe. It was true, he enjoyed swinging a sword more than anything else, but those days of youth when he’d learned all princely things- like dancing- he had enjoyed it. One might say perhaps he simply had never had a partner he enjoyed to do it with. Certainly not enough to do it before the entire court as he’d just done this night. “I might enjoy it more, if you’ll continue to be my partner.”
“I think I can do that,” she says with a smile and she’s radiant there in the starlight. So very beautiful that it steals the breath from his lungs for a moment, his heart skipping a beat as he reaches for her hand, helping her back up onto her feet. But, he does not let go of her, rather he’s drawing her in a little bit closer, the distance between them minimal at best. “Your grace…” She’s speaking softly, so softly, the breath catching in her throat as she peers back at him. “Jon…” His given name sounds so sweet on her lips and he longs to hear it again and again.
“Sansa…” He speaks her name aloud and she’s inching closer now, so close that when she smiles, he can feel the curve of her lips against his own. He’s kissing her then, soft and slow, his arms twisting around her waist as she sinks into his touch. Somehow, this felt like the moment he’d been waiting for all of his life. Somehow, this felt more right than anything else ever had. And when he pulls away a moment or perhaps even a lifetime later, he’s breathless and grinning, his heartbeat quick in his chest. “Should we return inside…?” He asks quietly, his forehead to hers, one hand sliding into place against her cheek.
To his surprise, she’s shaking her head, smiling almost mischievously, a new shine to her eyes that hadn’t been there before. “I’d like to stay here, just a little while later.” She says and this time, she’s the one kissing him, her hands clutching to the front of his doublet, uncaring of the hand he slides into her hair, knocking pins loose as he threads the red strands through his fingers.
And a short while later, when they do return inside, no one notices the young queen to be with her hair twisted back in a different way, save for the King who can’t help but to chuckle at the sight, wondering if this marriage for his son would be better than he could have ever hoped it to be.
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I'm captivated by you, baby, like a fireworks show
For Bio Dad! Bruce Wayne Month, Prompt: Dating
ao3
@maribat-bdbwm
Marinette paces across her room, glaring at her phone. Tikki had given up on her a while ago and was probably raiding the kitchen now. She types out a message, ‘would you be free on saturday?’ before backtracking and deleting it again. Why is this so hard? It’s just Jon. Too busy trying to figure out how to ask him out, she doesn’t notice when Dick pokes his head through the door and asks, “Something wrong?”
She jumps a bit in shock and he laughs. Glaring at him, she says, “No, not at all. Get out.”
Unsurprisingly, her brother doesn’t listen to her and walks right in, sitting down on her bed. She stuffs her phone into her pocket before he sees too much. But because her siblings are both extremely annoying and ridiculously skilled, he catches sight of something and puts it together almost immediately. Marinette groans internally as his eyes light up and he grins. “It’s about your crush on Jon then?”
Hoping her face isn’t as red as a tomato, she shoots back, “What crush? I don’t have a crush on Jon Kent.”
Dick (truly an appropriate name for him, she thinks) laughs again, “And Tim has a regular sleep schedule.”
She doesn’t give in, “Really? Good that he fixed that then.”
Undeterred, he continues, “Just ask him out. I’m fairly certain he’ll say yes.”
Marinette sighs and walks over to her brother, sitting down next to him. “It’s not like I’m not trying. I just don’t know what to say. It’s not like I can just ask him to a movie or to play video games or anything. We do all that all the time. How will he know it’s a date?”
“Tell him it’s a date.”
She scoffs, “Right. Because that’s not terrifying at all.”
He offers her a smile, “Even if he says no, what’s the worst that could happen.”
She replies immediately, “He doesn’t want to be friends anymore and everything becomes so awkward that I have to move to Antarctica.”
He gives her a look, “The most realistic worst case scenario.”
“I don’t know how to do those.”
He sighs, “Even if he says no, which by the way is extremely unlikely, you’re not going to stop being friends. You’ve been friends forever.”
“But-”
“Just think it over.” And he pushes himself off her bed and walks out her room. Marinette lets herself fall back. It’s fine, she tells herself, it’ll probably go away soon enough.
.oOo.
It does not go away but it doesn’t really affect her interactions with Jon either. Things are normal and normal is sitting in the living room and beating Jon at video games. She turns to look at him, ready to rub her victory in his face but she’s met with a look so full of affection that she falters. Somewhat vaguely, she considers the possibility of Dick being right in his belief that Jon would want to go out with her.
Jon frowns, eyebrows scrunching adorably in confusion and it strikes Marinette that she’s acting weird. But before she can say anything, the door opens and Damian walks in. “Kent, we have to leave now.”
Beside her Jon looks surprised, “Already?”
“Unexpected developments. Father wants us downstairs immediately.”
He frowns but gets up nonetheless, shooting her an apologetic smile. Marinette waves him off, “It’s fine, not like I don’t bail on you all the time.”
“You also apologise profusely every single time,” he points out.
She grins at him, “You can make your apologies next time.”
“I will,” he promises, getting up and leaving the room. Damian looks at her questioningly once Jon has left the room. “What?” she snaps.
“Get together and end this misery.”
She splutters, “Damian, if-”
“If he hears me, maybe he’ll finally believe me when I tell him you like him too.” And then he walks out of the room before Marinette can grab him and thoroughly interrogate him.
She’s in desperate need for better siblings. Except Cass, Cass is the best.
.oOo.
Marinette takes it back, Cass is the worst. Her older sister grins mischievously and repeats, “You want to know if Jon likes you?”
The part of Marinette that thought this was a good idea has shrivelled up and died. Yes, Cass will know for sure but also Cass is definitely going to tease her about this for the next while. Regardless she nods, “Please?”
“Do you think he likes you?”
She groans, “Maybe. I don’t know. Why do you want to know?”
The older girl’s grin widens, “It’s funny.”
Marinette glares, getting up to leave. She’s at the door when Cass calls out, “He does.”
She turns, “huh?”
“He does like you, it’s very obvious. Steph thinks he has heart eyes. I agree.”
Marinette’s heart is racing and she can’t stop smiling. “Thank you,” she breathes out before running out the room.
As soon as she’s back in her room, she pulls out her phone to text Jon. Tikki looks at her, confused. “I’ll explain in a minute.”
Marinette: are you free on saturday?
Jon: yup
Jon: movie night?
Marinette: yes
Marinette: it’s a date
Her phone starts ringing instantly. Taking a deep breath, she picks up. “Hi.”
He skips the greeting, “You meant it when you said it was a date? Like an actual romantic date?”
She bites her lip, her siblings like messing with her but they wouldn’t lie about this. “Yes.”
“I’d love to go on a date with you,” is the breathless reply that comes and Marinette can hear the smile she knows so well. An identical one spreading across her face. “See you Saturday then? The usual time?”
Tikki gasps.
“Ok.”
“Ok,” she repeats, still smiling. The conversation turns from there, switching to their usual topics. Admittedly there’s so much more giggling than normal. Tikki squeals when the call ends. “Oh Marinette, I’m so proud of you.”
Marinette blinks, letting everything settle in before squealing, “Holy shit! I actually did that!!”
Tikki giggles and hugs her holder’s cheek.
.oOo.
It’s at family dinner, two days later that Jason asks, “Could you not have waited one more week, Pixie?”
She tilts her head in confusion, “For what?”
“Dating the tiny Superboy.”
She stares at him for a second, processing his words before screeching, “You bet on this??????”
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hello hello here's another spg brainrot post <3
here's how I think the bots would react to u if u were overstimulated/overwhelmed
Rabbit: would immediately try distracting you with more chaos in an attempt to make you laugh. this has a 50% success rate and if she realizes it isn't working she'll just hug you silently till you stop crying, afterward offering things like snacks or sharing her own shortcomings. if necessary, the comfort movies will be used.
The Spine: notices your discomfort rather quickly and takes you away from the situation. he'll do the best he can to give you advice or try to help in some way (if you're crying/hyperventilating) and generally keep your surroundings quiet. he can be a little awkward with this as it isn't something he's typically used to, but helps u anyways because he's a cool robot :]. will try to take your mind off things with coversation of movies, music, dinosaurs, anything he can think of, listening intently to whatever you say. if you say you need anything (blankets, tissues, etc) he'll get it for you, but chances are if you know each other he'll already have those ready for you.
Hatchworth: wouldn't really pick up on your discomfort until you had to leave or you physically started crying/hyperventilating. means well though, and once he notices you're not doing alright he'll take you somewhere small to hide (a fort, under a table, behind a bookshelf) and ask you questions about why you're sad and why you do this. he has no malice behind his queries, he genuinely wants to understand how/why you do this and if he can help prevent it in the future. by the time you finish explaining things to him you'll likely to have calmed down, and then he'll offer a mystery sandwich. you must accept, even if you don't eat it.
Zer0: your mood is his mood. if he finds you upset or overwhelmed, he has a magic way of always understanding. he will provide you with hugs and silent comfort, possibly even crying a bit himself. a great bot to go to if you need physical comfort, or just to know someone else understands. will offer you his favorite dinosaur toys that he definitely didn't steal from Spine.
The Jon: taken aback at first by the sight of you, but will waste no time in bringing you either outside or to a pillow fort he made, staying close to you the entire time and keeping some sort of physical contact (i.e., hand on your arm, touching shoulders, just to remind you he's there and not going anywhere). will listen intently and happily talk to you for hours, not minding if you have a hard time responding (he'll wait patiently for you to respond). I mentioned that he does this in my headcanons list, but he'd definitely give you lil platonic kisses all over your face and hands. would also shower you with stuffies and things he finds around the area you two are in, trying to smile in hopes it will be infectious. if desired, he'll tell you whimsical stories and adventures of his time in Biscuit Town.
Upgrade: would offer if you wanted to rule alongside her (everyone knows she's a princess) in her kingdom, and would ramble on about your new royal duties and what her imaginary kingdom is like. she wouldn't really care if you listen or not, but you are expected to at least nod or acknowledge her. she'll let you have varying amounts of power over the kingdom depending on how sad you are.
#steam powered giraffe#spg#spgiraffe#the jon spg#spg the jon#the spine#rabbit spg#spg the spine#the spine spg#spg rabbit#zer0 spg#spg zer0#spg upgrade#upgrade spg#headcanon#fluff#<3#spg fluff
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This is not a love story — Jacaerys AU
♡ A/N: I’ve been going back into my drafts looking for some inspiration and I was really on a modern HOTD kick for a while. I have no personal experience with addiction so if you see something that you feel is a cliché or stigma please feel free to reach out! Please give me feedback, kisses.
♡ SUMMARY: Recidivism, by definition is the tendency of a convicted criminal to reoffend. Back into the sea that is every day life will you swim your new life or sink with your past?
♡ WORD COUNT: 2.8K
♡ WARNING: Harsh language and talk of addiction.
previous — Masterlist — next
YOU CHEW ON THE TORN JAW STRING OF YOUR STAINED HOODIE. The facility detergent barely masks the heavy cigarette coat and does little against the stains. You drum your fingers against the edge of your bed. The jeans you arrived in no longer fit right, and the plastic bag from the attendants contains very few things: a crumpled dollar, your driver's license, and a seahorse bracelet. Your blank stare’s cold, and you eye the bag without a word. A light tap at your door brings you back from the far corners of your mind. You stuff all three items deep into your jeans pockets before muttering come in.
“(Y/n). It’s time to go,” Jon says. The patient-nurse aide holds an encouraging smile at your hesitant stare. After a few seconds, you rise to your feet. You glance around the room, studying every detail. From the plastered hole made on your first night in the facility to the wooden panels, they reset during your attempts to hide pills in the floor. Jon sighs softly, joining your side with a warm smile, “You’re gonna do great out there; I just know it.”
“You know nothing, Jon Snow,” You mutter dryly. Jon chuckles softly before walking back to the door. You sourly follow, scanning the many passing faces. Dr. Tarly offers joyous words of being proud as he passes, to which you roll your eyes, “Whatever you say, Sam.”
You do not look back as he corrects how you address him. At this hour, most patients are free to roam, and room doors are open. She takes in the faces of the many lost souls in different journey stages. Jon says nothing as he leads the way, nodding politely to others. He leads her into the counseling area. Dr. Velaryon sits in his office with the same pride Dr. Tarly wore. Jon excuses himself, congratulating you a final time.
“You’re gonna say something cheesy, aren’t you?” You grumble as Dr. Velaryon’s smile widens. A poor joke and a short monologue of being proud later, you close your eyes, imitating loud snores.
“Alright, alright. As you know, we discussed discharge plans, but you provided me with nothing. Though you’re eighteen, you’re still practically a kid, and it would do no good to send you out into the world without support,” Dr. Velaryon says as you bounce on the balls of your feet. You stand behind the chair, placing your hands in your hoodie pockets. The rise and drop of your shoulders match your wandering eyes as you inspect the photos on his wall. “In addition to our previously discussed—“
“Is that your sister who is taking me in?” You ask it’s clear you are not listening. Your eyes stay on the large portrait next to his diploma. Dr. Velaryon and his sister stand together in cap and gowns with what can be assumed to be their parents.
“Yes, that is Laena. She has a doctorate in social work and is the director of Driftmark Children and Youth Services. So when I was arranging some out-of-facility services, she volunteered to present as a permanency resource. (Y/n) I need you to focus on the stipulations of your probation. You will receive information on your parole officer by the end of the week. You cannot miss a single narcotics anonymous meeting. There will be random urinalysis screenings. Every single one has to return negative. Find a sponsor and meet with them regularly and engage in counseling. If not, you violate your parole. The alternative to your release is prison,” Dr. Velaryon speaks with a softness to his tone. You nod along, sighing quietly.
“Can I do therapy with you?” You speak barely above a whisper, keeping your gaze low. Dr. Velaryon sighs. You do not hear a word of his explanation. Your jaw clenches as you glare daggers catching snippets of his monologue on ethics and dual relationships.
“(Y/n) I promise you Dr. Seaworth is a great therapist. I asked my sister to give me updates on your progress. Me and the staff here are rooting for you,” Dr. Velaryon exudes nothing but warmth. He says nothing briefly, maintaining a smile as you glare. After a few moments, your glare breaks with the sucking of your teeth. You cross your arms leaning back on the far wall. Dr. Velaryon keeps his eyes on you and watches as your stern glare dissolves slowly. Your lip purses, your leg bouncing at a steady pace.
“I’m never going to make it out there. You’re wasting your time,” You stare down at your hands, picking away at the sides of your nails. The fiery red color stares back at you, red and puffy.
“Why do you think that?” Dr. Velaryon asks softly, earning a mirthless chuckle. You frown, still eyeing your fingers.
“Here I have someone constantly up my ass. Someone tells me when to wake up, sleep, and socialize. All I know to do is pop pills and lay on my back,” Your lip quivers faintly, your flat tone filling the medium office.
“Really? Because I’ve never met someone who could find so many ways to tell me to fuck off. You’re really good at reading social interactions and freakishly good at math. You have grit and a determination that, when focused on positive things, could lead you to far more than you realize,” Your eyes cut to your therapist. You say nothing as he speaks, wiping away salty tears with your shoulder. Dr. Velaryon holds out a box of tissues and chuckles, “And I assure you, my sister is a bit of a hard ass. So you’ll have someone telling you when to get up and go to bed. Strict curfews and high expectations.”
His desk phone rings, his smile widening as he answers it and thanks the front desk receptionist. You bite your cheek as he says, “Ready to start your life again?”
You hang back at first as you and Dr. Velaryon enter the front desk area. His sister Laena and two girls greet him with giant smiles—a chorus of Uncle Laenor fills the empty waiting room. You raise an eyebrow as he had kept his first name heavily guarded.
“Laenor,” You test out, watching as he gives you a pointed stare, but you quickly remind him he’s no longer your therapist. Laenor introduces you to his family. His nieces, Baela and Rhaena both stare at you. Rhaena holds a barrage of balloons and wears a kind smile. She clearly takes much after her uncle. Baela stares as though she’s studying you. In her hands sits a card with your name on it. Behind them stands their mother, Laena, who smiles warmly.
“I hope we’re not overwhelming you. We thought if you came home to balloons and a card, it might be a bit much,” Laena says softly, stepping forward. You offer a stiff nod, glancing at Laenor, who merely smiles. When it’s clear you will not say anything, Laena announces she’s already completed the paperwork and that you need to sign a few documents. It’s not long before you sit in the back of a car worth more than every possession you have ever had in life combined. Rhaena sits with you as Baela sits in the passenger seat, commandeering the radio. Laena glances in the rearview mirror and speaks softly, “So (Y/n), I was thinking maybe I could drop you and the girls off at the mall. Get you some new clothes, and maybe we could do take out for dinner.”
“I—uh, I don’t have money for clothes right now,” You mutter, leaning your head on the window while gripping the door handle tightly.
“Don’t worry about that. Rhaena will have my card. You girls should shop around. Do you think you’re up for that?” Laena says. Before you can say anything, Baela scoffs, asking why Rhaena’s in charge of the credit card. You stay silent as Rhaena snickers as her mother lists the many reasons why Baela will never hold the credit card ever again. Her use of the emergency card being for everything under the sun, emergency jeans, emergency Taco Bell, emergency nail appointments. It quickly turns into a motherly lecture to which both girls groan, “You girls know trust is everything. (Y/n) someday even, you will be able to take the credit card when you go out. It’s easy to gain my trust but far more difficult to regain.”
You nod quietly and the car ride grows quiet. Missandei plays on the radio. You nearly forget about the previous conversation, but as the large shopping center appears it all becomes real. You stare curiously at the people who walk and talk, appearing so carefree—unaffected. Laena drops the three of you by the entrance promising to return in a few hours. She says Rhaena has clear instructions on everything that must get done first.
As the three of you enter the mall, your eyes carefully scan the many faces. Baela’s staring at you as she skips to join your side as Rhaena says the first stop should be the Apple Store. You chew your bottom lip, Baela’s stare stoking a fire deep in your chest.
“Mom said she already has a plan and everything set up. We just need to go pick up (Y/n)’s phone,” Rhaena explains. Staring down at her phone, she reads the instructions diligently. Baela’s stare nags at your core, the fire growing at a rapid pace while your nails dig into your palm.
“Whatever the fuck you want to say, just say it,” You glare at her coldly. She chuckles, putting her hands up in surrender as you three freeze.
“Uncle Laenor says you’re all bite, no bark. I overheard you were in juvie, what’d you do?” Baela questions ignoring how her sister gasps. She looks at you with a challenging stare and an teasing smirk.
“Baela!” Rhaena exclaims.
You step closer to Baela, crossing your arms as your heart hammers. She does not move, and Rhaena looks between you both like a deer in headlights.
Stepping back from her, you wear a chillingly calm glare, speaking cooly, “I killed a guy.”
There’s a long pause as you both stare at each other. It soon breaks as Baela laughs. She looks at her sister, “I like her. Let’s get her this phone and some new clothes before we meet up with the others.”
Baela skips ahead of you both as Rhaena rushes behind her. Rhaena speaks with frantic urgency in her soft tone, “Mom said not to overwhelm her. Maybe this is too early.”
“Yeah, it’s too early right now, and no way I’m bringing her around our friends in these rags,” Baela turns, looking up and down from head to toe. You flip her off and she ignores you as she stares at you in contemplation, “you’re hot. If we get you a cute outfit, better hairstyle, and maybe some mascara, you will be the next hot topic at ValeU.”
“ValeU? That Ivy League for bratty rich kids?” Your eyebrows furrow as you look between Rhaena and Baela. The sisters talk with their eyes leaving you to shift on the balls of your feet at the silence, “Hey asshole and Rhaena. I happen to be here still.”
Rhaena apologizes as Baela grumbles about being asshole. You follow them into the Apple Store, retrieving your new phone. From there, Baela drags you into every store in view. Baela plays Barbie doll with you as you provide little input on things you like.
“Are you always a hard bitch, or will we discover a mega softy in a few weeks?” Baela calls out. Rhaena exclaims her sister's name for the millionth time. You stand in the dressing room, staring in the mirror wide-eyed. The mini yellow sundress is simple, yet you can barely recognize yourself. You leave the dressing room as Rhaena’s lecture to Baela trails off into a stunned silence. The sisters stare at you, and you stare back at them. Baela smirks. Stepping forward, she frees your tight hair coils from the tie that holds them. Out of her purse she reveals a tube of mascara. You say nothing as she clips on tiny gold hoops to your ears before stepping back with a giant smile, “I told you. You’re hot. A sexy criminal.”
Baela wiggles her eyebrows, grinning ear to ear. You bite the inside of your cheek, “fuck off.”
“Oh, you know you want to laugh,” Baela teases as Rhaena smiles at you softly.
“You do look really pretty (Y/n),” Rhaena's soft voice earns a weak smile. You look in the mirror drumming your fingers against your thighs.
The three of you walk to the food court, and you wrap your arms around yourself. Baela walks ahead of you both, with Rhaena throwing glances your way. You assure her you are fine, a lie. The subtle glances of strangers around you chip at your guarded wall, leaving the awkward girl in its stead.
“Okay, so preface before we meet up with the boys. There’s Jace, Aegon, and Cregan. Jace and Cregan are best friends. Aegon is a douche but Cregan and Aegon play soccer together, so we’re stuck with him. Oh, Cregan and I used to date, but we’re just friends now. It’s not weird, I promise,” Baela speaks quickly and casually. You have no time to process her words or even respond as giant smiles of strangers greet you. Rhaena introduces you, and you mix their names the second they are said.
“Why did no one say she was hot?” You quickly identify Aegon as Baela smacks him upside the head but agrees. The bags beneath his eyes are telling. You know them all too well.
“Ignore him, we all do anyway. Cregan,” The tall dark haired one smiles with a dashing charm. You chuckle, nodding your head as Aegon rolls his eyes.
“I’m Jace. Baela’s been texting us nonstop about you,” Jace says, smiling, and you frown as your eyes cut to Baela. He quickly continues, “All good things.”
“Cool,” You say, eyeing them just as they eye you. Rhaena breaks the silence as they all pile into a booth. Everyone breaks into side conversations, Baela and Aegon bickering about people you do not know. Rhaena and Cregan chat quietly amongst themselves. Directly across from you, Jace smiles kindly, tilting his head to catch your gaze.
“Where are you from?” Jace asks. Raising an eyebrow, you stare at him wordlessly. He scratches the back of his neck, “Not a small talk person?”
“Not really no,” You say, and Jace nods, his gaze stays on you. His warm smile juxtaposes your sharp stare. The silence between you continues. Jace smiles as he stares at you as if he’s seeing something.
“Mark my words, (Y/n). You’re going to let me in. I know it,” Jace says, his tone playful and challenging. You raise an eyebrow at him as Aegon suggests all of you going to “chill in his jeep and listen to music.” Whatever the hell that means.
“I call shotgun. No way I’m cramming back there with the rest of you,” Baela says and Cregan’s quick to suggest drawing straws.
“I have space in my trunk. It’s a mess but able to seat someone,” Aegon says. You quickly offer to take it. Jace and Rhaena both say they can take it, but you insist. His trunk consists of a slew of scattered clothing blankets and shoes. The rapper Grey Worm blares through the speakers, and you cannot hear anything anyone says. Something pokes at your back, shifting to the side. You freeze at the plastic bottle that sits on your left. The white-capped orange bottle stares back at you, your ears ringing. You cringe at the sound of your name and the absence of the loud music.
“My moms here,” Rhaena says softly. Nodding your head, you exit the back seat cautiously. You are quiet in your goodbyes, even as Jace shoots you a mischievous grin. While loading the bags in Laena’s car, she excitedly asks about the shopping trip. None of you mention the guys, and you settle on Lysene for dinner.
While Laena suggests watching a movie after dinner you excuse yourself to your room. Your many shopping bags fill the floor of the room twice the size of your room at the rehab facility. You lock your room door and walk to your dresser, and you lay out the contents of your pockets: your license, a crumpled-up dollar, a seahorse bracelet, and a bottle.
Sitting on the floor, you grab the bottle. You open it placing a pill on the carpet in front of you. Staring at it, you lean back on the foot of your bed as the Xanax stares back at you.
#jacaerys velaryon#jacaerys Velaryon imagine#jace velaryon#jacaerys x reader#jacaerys Velaryon x reader#jacaerys Velaryon au#Cregan stark#Cregan stark imagine#baela targaryen#baela targaryen imagine#baela targaryen au#rhaena targaryen#rhaena targaryen imagine#rhaena targaryen au#aegon targaryen au#aegon targaryen#aegon targaryen imagine#laena velaryon#laena Velaryon imagine#Laena Velaryon au#rhaeynra targaryen#Rhaenyra targaryen imagine#rhaenyra targaryen au#daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen au#laenor velaryon#laenor Velaryon au#house of the dragon imagine#game of thrones imagine#lucerys Velaryon au
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Chapter 17 When you believe
Chapter 17 of Sandstorm
A/N- Practice did them good, that’s all I’m saying ;)
Warning- Swearing, FLUFF, long chapter, and there’s changes that depart from the show!
Pairing- Jon Snow x Targaryen!fem-reader
(If you want to be tagged let me know)
————
*15 YEARS LATER*
“Your Grace,” he bows his head and then slowly drifts his gaze to your left side and parts his lips but doesn’t say anything, as if debating whether to acknowledge who stands by your throne. “…Princess,” he finally adds and straightens up.
You draw out an exhausted breath and press the man. “State your business, Lord Umber.”
The old man slides the hat off his head and clutches it in front of him as he holds your gaze. “I am sorry for the disturbance, My Queen, but I don’t know what else to do. It’s the Wildlings, they’ve—”
“Freefolk,” the young girl at your left side cuts him off to correct him. “If you’ve come here to complain then please address them correctly.”
You can’t help the proud smirk that tugs on your face as you look at your left side to share the gesture with your eldest daughter, and heir, Rhaenyra.
She notices from the corner of her eyes and passes a soft smirk before you’re both forced to listen to the man complain about the Freefolk, as a lot of Northerners often do. You’d think after a decade of the Freefolk being apart of the Kingdoms, the people would stop being so judgemental, but no, they continue to whine.
“The Freefolk,” the man corrects himself. “Summer snow has struck the North, and I know it’s nothing to worry about here, but it is over there. They do nothing but steal like wild ravagers. I want them out of my lands. It’s time the Crown does something about them.”
It’s always the same thing over and over again. It’s fucking annoying.
“Freefolk business is to be dealt with Princess Sansa Stark,” you remind the man of a law that’s been set for 15 years.
The Lord nods and shuffles forward, making sure to be cautious of the swords that align the steps that lead to the Throne. “I have gone to the Princess of the North, but I always end up with the same response that nothing can be done. That’s why I have come here personally.”
You nod and sigh, wanting this to be over, but you just shift in the seat and continue to address his problem. “My Lord, have the Freefolk robbed you personally? Because if they have then it is to be brought with Princess Sansa Stark, there are laws that need to be followed, including them. So if they have robbed you, beaten you, or done any destruction to your lands then please say so.”
The Lord twists his hat and glances at the Lord Hand below the steps, and then at the Grand Maester at the other side and finally meets your gaze again and nods, letting you know all you needed to know, it’s all bullshit.
“They’ve gotten to steal from our flocks,” the man shares. “Every other night, one goes missing or one wakes up all dead and covered in blood. How am I meant to keep my people fed? I want justice.”
Gods.
You sigh and nod softly. “All right, well I’ll write to Princess Sansa Stark, I will tell her to send two Knights to your land and stand guard for a week. If you are right then the Freefolk at fault will face trial, if not then you may rest easy and know it was not them.”
The Lord nods and then bows his head. “Thank you, Your Grace. I know that I will be right.”
You hum and offer the man a tiny smile that lasts until he’s out of the sunlit throne room. “All right,” you sigh and stand up from that hard ass throne. “Well my Lord Hand that is all for today. Thank you.”
The Lord hand bows and takes his leave, letting you turn to Grand Maester Samwell Tarly. “Grand Maester, may you send Princess Sansa a raven and let her know what we’ve discussed here today please.”
The man bows his head. “Of course, right away your Grace.” He then scurries off, letting you walk down the steps and then head to the courtyard with Rhaenyra beside you, and four Queensguard behind you.
“I bet it’s just a pack of wolves getting into his flock,” Rhaenyra interjects when you leave the throne room. “It’s rare now to hear of the Freefolk doing any harm.”
You scoff. “Yes, that’s exactly my thoughts, but you know,” you sigh. “People are still prejudice about the unknown. They’re scared. But the key thing to do in these cases is…” you trail off and let her finish.
“Have patience,” Rhaenyra fills in.
You smile and meet her pretty dark eyes that match Jon’s. “Exactly, even when they cry wolf.”
Rhaenyra tries not to, but she can’t help but giggle.
You grin and look ahead. “Pun very much intended.”
Rhaenyra scoffs; and you know she rolls her eyes.
“Still he came all this way,” Rhaenyra adds. “I wonder how much of his flock is left now. With luck all so he can learn his lesson about whining.”
“With luck,” you retort. “None are dead or else he will come back and give us headaches.”
“I suppose you are right,” Rhaenyra agrees.
“Aren't I always?” You tease.
Rhaenyra stays quiet, causing you to look at her with a playful narrowed glare. She meets your gaze and simply shrugs.
“Father says it’s okay to be wrong,” she counters smugly. “There’s no mistake or shame in it.”
You wrap your arm around her shoulders and shake your head. “But I am your mother and the Queen, I am never wrong. My word is law. Literally.”
Rhaenyra scoffs softly. “Father says even rulers can be wrong.”
You beam at her and press your forehead against hers. “Very good. Your father has taught you well.”
She’s come a long way from being sharp tongued and short tempered. Well some of it still resides within her, but now that she’s been at your side more in your royal duties, she’s started to mature. It both saddens and fills you with joy because you don’t wish her to get any older than she already is, but you also can’t help but feel proud.
“As have you, mother,” she assures you.
You hum softly and then press a kiss on the side of her head before you let go and walk out to the runway that overlooks the training courtyard below. And the moment you walk out you’re welcomed with the sound of metal singing as it clashes against one another, you hear playful training yard squabble, and instructions that come from Jon.
When you approach the railing you stop when you’re above a pair of boys training with swords. You rest your hands against the railing and watch as your son, Ryuu, shove his older brother off his feet with a swift lunge before he spins around him and trips him. He’s only 13, and Jon and Ser Brienne say he’s showing great potential; he’s beaten Jon a couple already in training.
“You’ve frozen up again, young Prince,” Ser Brienne scolds your older son on the ground. “Stop tensing up and watching. Watch and act.”
You lean closer and watch as Ryuu jumps up and down in celebration to his success, making the black curls on his head bounce.
“No celebrating,” Ser Brienne scolds the boy. “Focus.”
Ryuu stops and clears his throat. “Right sorry.” He walks around his brother and offers him his hand. “You did well, Daeron.” He compliments the 15 year old. “Nice switch.”
Daeron sighs and meets his brother's dark eyes that also match Jon’s eye color, and then takes his hand to let his brother help him to his feet.
“Thanks,” Daeron responds with disappointment as he begins to walk back to his spot across from Ryuu.
“You almost got me,” Ryuu counters and twists around to face Daeron. “Almost,” he jokes, with a smirk you know plays on his face.
“Yeah, yeah,” Daeron chuckles. “Just pay attention little boy. You won’t get me now.”
You smile at his good sportsmanship and watch as he fixes his grip around his sword's handle. And as if he can sense your gaze, he looks up and his green eyes meet your gaze. He offers you a soft smile that you quickly mirror.
“Good job,” you mouth to him.
Daeron’s smile widens, causing Ryuu to follow his line of gaze and notice you now too.
“Mother, have you come to see me beat Daeron?” He quips with a playful grin.
You shrug. “Maybe I’ve come to challenge you,” you remark.
Ryuu flashes you a grin. “I’d like that.”
You shoot him a wink and push yourself back to continue on, hearing him Ryuu taunt his brother. “I thought you were flirting with a girl for a second, but how can that be when you’re such a mommas boy.”
“Ryuu,” you warn him without looking over at him.
“Mother,” you hear him call back.
Before you can climb down the stairs to join the training yard below you turn to face Rhaenyra. “The business is all done for today, my girl, you may go change and join your siblings if that pleases you.”
Rhaenyra glances down below and watches everyone training for a few seconds before she meets your gaze and interjects. “Actually, may I go out and be with my dragon today?”
You nod without hesitation. “Of course. Go on, soar the skies. Just remember, strap up, and be careful okay?”
Rhaenyra flashes you a smile before she spins around and rushes off to do as she said, letting you turn to hobble down the stairs.
And just as you turn into the training yard you catch your youngest son and child, Aemon, miss the target a few feet ahead of him and hit some weapon rack instead. Because of it his two older sisters watching him begin to laugh.
“Which one of you was a marksman at 8?” You cut them off, catching all of their attention.
“I was,” Edria, your 11 year old daughter, counters smugly.
You scoff softly, and Oraena, the youngest daughter rebuttals her sister that’s only a year older than her. “You still wet your bed at 8.”
Edria gasps and turns her head slowly to face her sister with annoyance, before she leans over and shoves her playfully, making Oraena chuckle before she pushes Edria back. That makes Edria want to hit her arm, but Oraena runs off before she can be touched, making her sister chase after her around the training yard.
“There they go,” you comment under your breath and watch them for a moment before you look at Aemon. “You, my boy are okay,” you assure the sweet boy. “Now hair out of your face, maybe that’s why you’re missing.”
Aemon rolls his eyes, and then holds the bow between his legs to tie his wavy white-silver hair back to a bun that matched Jon’s. After he’s done he faces you and begins to sign with his hands what he wants to say since he can't speak. “Now, can father and I continue?”
You nod. “Go on. Shoot.” You tell him and point the target with your head.
Aemon grabs his bow again and takes an arrow to try again, and while he does you then look at Jon close to Aemon and walk to him with a smile.
The moment you close the gap between one another he grabs you by the back of your neck and gives you a kiss, making you cup his cheeks to deepen the steamy gesture.
“I missed you,” you say between kisses even if you had seen him not so long ago.
Jon smirks. “I missed you too.” He says back and you only move more in sync as if you have never ever kissed one another before.
Honestly as you gotten older you have only grown more passionate about each other…maybe that’s why you have six biological children. And why Aemon was such a surprise when you found out you were with child.
Perhaps if you had gotten together sooner than you’d have more. But then again you’re also glad you don’t have more, raising seven kids is a hassle and a frequent headache.
Regardless, when you pull apart Jon and wipes your lips with his thumb and interrogates you. “How was it?”
You sigh. “You know it was eventful…as always. Lord Umber came.”
Jon blinks in surprise and narrow his gaze. “Lord Umber?” He repeats. “Whatever for?”
“You’ll like this,” you say sarcastically. “He came to complain about the Freefolk.”
Jon rolls his eyes and sighs out of annoyance. “I swear one single Freefolk can pass by minding their business and people complain. When will it end? I can’t imagine how much Sansa has to hear about it.”
You chuckle and nod. “But that’s why she has Mors, he helps her keep level headed.”
Jon smiles softly and nods. “You are right.”
You shoot him a smirk. “I always am. I was right about them.”
Jon scoffs, but before he can say anything back, the sound of a stomping foot steals your attention to Aemon.
“Can you two stop,” he signs with annoyance expressing in his dark eyes. “You can kiss later when I’m not here. It’s gross.”
Jon and you chuckle. “Fine,” you give in. “I’ll go, leave you two men here. Just remember, dragon training later.”
Aemon nods in comprehension before he turns back to focus on his target practice with Jon.
“Just don’t think too much about it,” Jon advises the boy. “And relax your bow arm. Okay?”
You smile in awe as Jon walks to Aemon to help him with his stance, and stand there to watch. A few seconds pass and this time when Aemon shoots he hits the edge of the target.
“Good,” Jon tells the smiling boy. “That’s better.”
You smile wider and linger there watching as Aemon high-fives his father.
Some would say that your relationship with your children shouldn’t be as strong as it, some say only the father should truly bond with their sons, but fuck all that. Jon wants to be close to all his kids, every single one of them, you do too. Others also say that you should send them away, only keep the heir here and have the others be wards or do something else, they especially encourage you to send Daeron away, but your heart can’t bare sending him away, you can’t send any of your kids anyway, besides what can other people teach them that you and Jon can’t?
Besides, you don’t trust anyone else to raise your children. Sure dealing with royal duties and children is difficult, but Jon is a big help, your court helps as well with royal duties, that’s why you have them. You can juggle both things, you enjoy it. And why have a big family if half of them are gone?
That’s why they’re all still here, that’s why you’re close to all of them. Or as close as you can be.
If Rhaenar were still here…the family would have been even bigger, he’d be a grown man with kids of his own….
Tears fill your eyes but you don’t cry, instead you turn away and walk to Daeron and Ryuu, noticing Ryuu lose this time because he was distracted by Samwell Tarly's youngest boy, Jon, passing by.
Daeron also notices that and then looks at you to share a teasing look you mirror. Ryuu only focuses back when you approach Daeron to help him.
“Hand less tense,” you advise him. “And make sure your feet are not so spread apart.” You use your own foot to push his legs closer together. “And…” you trail off and pull his arm closer to him. “There better.”
Daeron takes note of his stance and then looks at you and gives you a thankful nod. “Thank you mother,” he whispers.
You shoot him a smile and stand back. “Go on, show me.” You encourage, but as you watch them match again, you notice the judgmental stares the passerbyers give Daeron. Albeit when they catch you glaring at them they look away and go back to what they were doing.
Sure it’s obvious that Daeron isn’t your kid, nor may he look like a Baratheon like Daenerys wanted everyone to believe. Sure his eyes are green unlike your children’s who all inherited Jon's dark eyes. Daeron may be tall and slim because he resembles his real father, Daario. Sure Daeron doesn’t have that common Targaryen silver hair, but neither does Robb, Ryuu, Edria or Oraena. Yes his nose is aquiline like that of some of your Targaryen ancestors, he has that Targaryen beauty. But that doesn’t make Daeron any less of your child or their prince. Anyone who wants to argue against that can come speak to you and Eraxis. Simple.
“Have either of you seen Robb?” You ask the two boys once they finish their match. “I’m surprised he isn’t here.”
Daeron and Ryuu share a secret look before Daeron shares what he knows. “He’s off brooding somewhere.”
“Yes,” Ryuu bounces off his brother's comment. “He woke up in a very foul mood today. He’s at the cove.”
You hum and nod in comprehension before you part away to go there right away.
After a long walk to the cove behind the castle you find your eldest son, Robb sitting on the sand throwing shells in the water.
“Robb,” you make your presence known, even though you knew he heard you climbing down the stone steps.
Albeit even if you spoke he still doesn’t look back, he drops the shells from his hands and just watches the waves crashing on the shore in front of his boots.
“I didn’t see you with your father and your siblings at the training yard,” you continue as you slowly approach him. “Is everything okay? You like training.”
Robb lets out a deep sigh and drops his head, letting his black hair fall over his eyes. “It’s okay, you wouldn't understand.”
Oh, so we’re at that stage now.
You sigh and stop just behind him to take your shoes off before you sit beside him on the sand. “I can maybe try and understand then,” you press him softly. “Please.”
Robb blinks and keeps his head down, he stays quiet for a few more seconds before he swallows thickly and then interjects quietly. “I…I’m not like you. I’ve tried and I’ve tried to be like everyone else, but no matter how much I try I still fail. I’m…a disappointment. To you and father.”
You blink repeatedly in disbelief and feel as if your heart sinks at the sound of his words. “In what way?” You probe and cup the back of his head. “Because all I see is someone who’s trying, someone who’s growing up. You’re still young Robb. You will fail and that’s okay. That’s how we all learn.”
Robb slowly lifts his head and meets your gaze with tears clouding his eyes. “But I don’t have a dragon, mother. Everyone else does, even father. Mine failed to be born to me. How does that look? The Targaryen prince who can’t have the one thing that makes us special?” He shakes his head and pushes your hand off his bead. “While you and father and all my other siblings fly I sit there watching, while you train with your dragons, I continue to sit there!”
You sigh deeply and feel your eyes fill with tears as you remember having a similar conversation with Rhaenar once. “You know,” you mutter and glance out at the crashing blue waves. “One time, before you were born. I had a very similar conversation with your older brother Rhaenar….he was afraid that his dragon egg wouldn’t be born to him because he was only half Targaryen….” You pause and glance down at your hands. “Do you want to know what I told him?”
Robb drifts his gaze to you and hums to press you for more.
You muster a small smile and then meet Robb’s dark eyes. “That it wouldn’t matter if it was born to him or not because he is still a Targaryen, because he still is great. That’s all that matters, so I tell you this now, my boy. It doesn’t matter if you bond with a dragon or not. It doesn’t,” you shake your head. “I won’t love you any less. Your father and your siblings won’t.”
Robb scoffs. “Father doesn’t love me as much.”
You lean towards him and counter. “Nonsense, your father loves you, but you are the one to blame for the distance with your father. He’s trying to reach out to you and at every attempt you push him away.”
Robb stays quiet knowing you’re right, letting you once again cup the back of his head.
“You don’t need a dragon to be great. That comes from here,” you say and point at his chest. “There are some brave men who turned out to be not so great even with dragons. And there are others who didn’t have a dragon ever and are legends; like your name-sake, your uncle Robb. He was a hero, a legend and a King and he had no dragon.” You smile and begin to caress the back of his head with your thumb. “Your uncle Tormund is a great warrior and a hero, and he also has no dragon. Ser Jaime was a great swordsman and had no dragon. I can go on and on and name personal hero’s I know that had no dragons and are still legends.”
Robb shakes his head softly. “But you do, and you’ve stopped three rebellions already during your reign as Queen because of Eraxis.”
You nod softly, knowing you can’t deny those claims. “That’s true. But are you me?”
Robb scoffs softly in amusement and shakes his head. “No.”
“Nor I do want you to be me, or your father,” you continue to assure him. “You don’t need a dragon. Daeron doesn’t have a dragon either.”
Robb huffs and averts his gaze before spatting, “Daeron is not my brother.”
Your eyes widen and you quickly argue back against him. “Don’t say that. Daeron is your brother. I may not have birthed him, but he is your relative, he is just as much of a Targaryen as you and your siblings. He is your brother, I wish you would stop arguing against that.”
Robb drops his gaze. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles.
You swallow thickly and don’t dwell on that topic any longer, instead you return to your previous conversation. “All I’m trying to say is that, you are not and will be any less of a Tagaryen if you don’t have a dragon. Now being great, that’s all up to you.”
Robb glances out at the water before he looks up at the sky as the sapphire-blue dragon is spotted miles above the water, lost in the clouds.
“I suppose you’re right,” Robb agrees quietly and a bit unsurely.
“I tend to be so,” you joke, making Robb side-eye you before he snickers.
“Yes,” he agrees. “You are.”
You beam. “At least someone sees it.”
The corner of Robb’s lips tug to a soft smile, but it doesn’t last long because it then begins to fall and go serious again. “Uncle Bran…” Robb mentions. “Said that he’s seen my late brother's dragon, Helios, at Dragonstone…can I go and try to claim him? Drogon also tends to be there uncle Bran says, so can I please try once?”
You’ve heard what happens if people don’t bond with dragons when they attempt to do it, it doesn’t end well. But who would you be if you deny him?
“All right,” you give in, “but…we will all go with you. You know what happens if a dragon doesn’t want to bond with a rider. So just in case something goes wrong we will be there to protect you….I couldn’t bear it you didn’t come back.”
Robb flashes you a faint grin. “All right…thank you mummy.”
You mirror his gesture but you then lean in and press a kiss on the side of his head.
Robb groans and gently pushes you away and grumbles, “mother, please.” His cheeks turn a tint of pink and he looks back to see if your Knights standing guard at the entrance of the cove saw.
You giggle. “I’m sorry. Now,” you sigh and stand up. “Come on. Let’s head inside. You can train with your sisters today.”
Robb pushes himself to his feet and rolls his eyes as he groans in protests. “Ugh, they’re terrible. They never focus.”
——
*LATER*
No matter how busy a day can be, no matter if there’s guests staying at the castle, Jon and you eat dinner with all of your kids. As chaotic as they can be all together, even if they have poor table manners when it’s just you, it’s the one thing you looked forward to the most.
It’s also Jon’s favorite part of the day now that you don’t have to deal with them as little children you have to help feed.
Albeit the one thing that does annoy you is sitting down to eat, you’d think that they’d have a favorite chair, but they fight about the seats. Always.
Like now for example, the sound of hurried footsteps echoes down the hall, whilst Jon insists on helping you to your seat because he says that you put enough weight on your leg that never fully healed after that battle where Gendry broke it.
“It doesn’t hurt as much today,” you assure him with a smile. “I sat for most of the day.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Jon counters. “Now stop complaining.”
You shoot him a grin while the doors get pushed opened and in comes running footsteps.
“No,” you recognize Edria grumble. “Aemon I sit there! Get…”
“Ahaha!” Oraena laughs evilly, and when you peer back you see she had snuck around them and taken the seat next to Jon. You also can’t miss her pink and purple hatchling perched on her shoulder.
“Bitch.”
“Edria,” you warn her as you let Jon go and sit on the head chair.
“Sorry mother.” Edria mutters and bows her head before taking the seat next to her sister, making poor baby Aemon walk around the table.
“Here,” you pat the empty seat at your right side since the left one was where Jon sits. “You can sit next to me.”
Aemon’s chest falls and he sits down as if he was forced to do so.
“What?” You remark playfully. “You don’t want to sit next to your mother? Does the Queen intimidate you?” You giggle as you see him slowly begin to grin.
As the food begins to get placed down on the tables surface the four eldest walk in—or only Rhaenyra and Ryuu walk in gracefully because Robb and Daeron come running in shoving each other to see who can reach the seat all the way across from you, because it makes them feel…special?
Who knows really. They just always fight over it.
But in all reality they shouldn’t because it’s meant to be Jon’s seat, but you didn’t like how far he was from you so he took a different seat. And then after that it was meant to be for Rhaenyra considering she’s the eldest, but the boys got to fighting so she takes whatever seat is open. Which in this case is next to Aemon and across from Oraena.
“Oraena,” you call out as you ignore the two eldest boys still fighting over the seat to glance at your youngest daughter, and the one that’s turning out to look just like your mother, Elia. Which is a blessing, but it is also a curse at the same time because it does hurt your heart a bit because you still miss your mother so much.
“What did we say about hatchlings at the dinner table?” You tell Oraena.
The girl makes sure that both Jon and you are paying attention to her before she parts her lips to argue. “He can’t be without me. Daddy you know that, I’ve told you.”
You sigh and shake your head. “He needs to start learning, O, he can’t be perched on your shoulder forever.”
“He won’t,” she rebuttals sassily. “That would be impossible.”
You draw in a deep breath and drift your eyes to your left to ask Jon for help since he’s always the solution when it comes to dealing with Oraena.
“Your mothers right, O, he can’t be here. He needs to start learning to be more independent. But it’s a long way back to your quarters, so have this be the last time.”
Oraena beams at him. “Thanks daddy.”
Well that’s as good as that’s going to get.
Now hoping the other dilemma is dealt with, you look ahead. And thankfully the boys are seated already with Robb being the one who won the seat across from you, and Daeron sitting next to Ryuu. So now you can finally begin with dinner.
“Now that we’re all seated,” Jon interjects while the last meal is placed across from him. “Let us join in prayer.”
You all grab each other's hands around the table and duck your heads to do as Jon requested.
And you weren’t one much for prayer or religion, but Jon was, and ever since winning the grande war for the throne, he’s made sure to pray as a family before eating. At first it was to give thanks to his gods that you made it out alive. But as the family grew his prayer changed. Now every single evening he thanks his gods for this life he was blessed with, all his kids, and you. Every single day it's the same prayer.
One time Edria asked why it was the same thing every single night, and he put it simply, that once when he was a young man in the Night's Watch, even when he was a boy, he never thought that having a family of his own would ever be a possibility. So now that he has it he thanks the gods that he was blessed, that it's real and it’s not all a dream he has to wake up from.
He made you cry that day he said that.
Alas, now after prayer the eating begins. It’s usually filled with chatter, or depending on the day it’s quiet and calm. Today a few minutes in Edria interjects.
“I have a very important question, for you both mother…” she trails off and glances at Jon taking a bite of his chicken. “Father.”
You put your silverware down and probe with a curious look. “Okay, share it then.”
Edria puts her cup down and shifts in her seat to face both Jon and you better, in doing so showing the scar on her face that she got from secretly sparring with some man twice her age in a competition. She was 10. It was red for weeks, and she was ashamed of it because she said it ruined her beauty because it was long and cut from the bridge of her nose down to the corner of her jaw. But now she’s grown to love the scar.
“How does a woman have a child?” Edria asks seriously, causing Jon to choke on his food, and for the four eldest kids to snicker at both Jon and their curious sister.
“Yes, please tell us,” Ryuu cuts in mischievously.
You let out a shaky breath, and ignore Ryuu. “Uh, why do you ask?” You ask Edria nervously since this is so out of the blue.
“The milkmaid is with child,” Edria explains with her eyes wide as she grows bewildered. “And she’s only 15! 15! and she has no husband.” She falls back in her seat and continues to look at Jon and you.
“Well,” you help her since Jon is taken back that his 11 year old girl is asking such questions. “One doesn’t need to be married to have a child.”
Oraena gasps and leans in to slam her hands agasint the table. “What? So does that mean that I can be with child? I kissed the stable man’s son!”
The four oldest laugh harder, while Jon gasps and snaps his head to the side to shoot her a shocked and angry look.
“Oraena,” he says sharply.
You giggle at the innocence of her worry and shake your head as you grab Jon’s hand to give it an assuring squeeze. “No, silly girl. You don’t get to be with a child by kissing. But how about Edria, you and me talk after dinner about that stuff okay?”
“I can draw you a picture about how it’s done, sweet little sister,” Robb jokes as he leans over towards Edria.
Jon’s gaze snaps to Robb’s and he snaps back. “You won’t do no such thing.”
Robb sits back and snickers as he fist bumps Daeron who also finds amusement in it.
“You can draw it for me,” you hear Ryuu whisper to his brother over the table.
A tap then hits the table at your right, and Aemon begins to sign when you look at him. “Can I know too?”
You part your lips to answer, but Jon does so before you. “I can tell you when you’re older, buddy. Okay?”
Aemon let’s out a deep exhale and nods along slowly, making Jon offer him a soft smile, and for you to end this conversation.
“Now let’s put those matters to bed and focus on another thing, Robb,” you pull him in the conversation. “Why don’t you share with us what we planned earlier, hm?” You grab your silverware again to continue eating.
Robb sets his things down to begin rubbing his knees nervously. “Well since I don’t have a dragon…I want to go to Dragonstone to try and bond with Helios. Uncle Bran says he lives there, so I want to go.”
You hum in agreement and after you swallow your food you add on for him. “Since bonding with dragons isn’t the safest thing, I thought we could all go. Watch out for him, and take advantage of the moment and have a small family trip.” You smile and glance at everyone around the table.
“That sounds like a good idea, mother,” Rhaenyra interjects. “Also gives me a chance to race against father again.” She snickers and sips her wine.
Aemon taps the table and when you look to him he quickly signs. “Can Catelyn, Nymeria and Eira go too?”
You let out a disappointed sigh and shake your head. “I’m sorry, buddy, but I’m afraid they wont make it. It’s just a small trip. But,” you try to assure him as you lean towards him. “Aunt Sansa and uncle Mors, and the girls will come in a couple weeks for a visit. That sound good?”
Aemon nods and grins.
“Really? They’re coming? Great!” Oraena asks with excitement since Sansa’s eldest daughter is 10 just like her, and they get along very well. It’s also why Aemon wants them to come because Sansa’s middle child, Catelyn, is 8 just like him.
“Anyway, Daeron, once we get to Dragonstone, maybe you can bond with a dragon too,” you direct at him so he doesn’t feel left out. “I’ve seen two wild dragons at the Dragonmount. That skinny brown one, and the teal one that looks like Ryuu’s. ”
Daeron meets your gaze and offers you a gentle smile and a light nod. “Yes, I would like that.”
You mirror his smile, and then share your happy smile with Jon.
Now all there’s left to do is hope that either of them bond with a dragon. If they don’t it’s okay, having a dragon doesn’t define them, but they really want to, so you’ll carry hope for them.
——
*LATER THAT NIGHT*
“Boys,” Jon murmurs as he continues to try and progress what he heard Oraena say. “She’s kissing boys.”
You smile at the mirror you’re using as you catch his baffled expression while he lays down.
“How old were you when you kissed a boy?” Jon asks and looks at you through the mirror.
You turn around to face him whilst you continue to spread cream over your arms. “15. But don’t worry, when I asked Oraena she said she was just curious.” You pick the cloth from the vanity to clean your hands. “It's okay to be curious. If we try to forbid them from something they’ll only act out…I know that from experience.”
Jon chuckles softly. “I know that…” he trails off and sighs. “It’s just she’s so young…in my eyes at least. She’s my little girl.”
You begin to smile in awe as you walk to your side of your shared bed.
“What? Soon she’ll stop following me around as well?” He asks, making you giggle.
“Aye, she will.” You tell him the truth as you climb on the bed and crawl to his side. “She’ll grow up, get an attitude, she’ll want to leave and then Aemon will follow and we’ll be alone.”
Once you’re laying beside Jon, he wraps his arm around your shoulders and presses you agasint him as you both admire the ceiling above. “I suppose it’s what every parent wants right? For them to live their lives,” he whispers. “I was so caught up taking care of them that I forgot that.”
You press a kiss on his chest and then begin to caress his shoulder with your finger. “Yeah,” you agree softly. “They’re all so unique and chaotic…the day is never not eventful,” you laugh. “I never expected that.”
Jon hums softly. “Nor I. I always thought my life was going to be dull and boring in the Night's Watch….now…” he trails off as he can’t find what to say.
You albeit lift your head and meet his gaze. “What would you younger self say if he knew this was going to be your life?” You ask out of curiosity. “I mean you're a prince and have seven kids. Seven.”
Jon begins to smile in admiration and shakes his head softly. “I wouldn’t believe you. I wouldn’t believe it. I was a bastard who was just a burden to my family, a shame they had to hide. At the Night's watch I started from nothing and then rose higher, but I never knew if I would live to see another day…after I left that remained the same. Now—”
“You’re a Prince Consort,” you interject. “A hero of the Seven Kingdoms, my husband, and a father. A great one at that.” You grin at him and then raise your hand to cup his cheek. “Who thought you’d get this far huh?”
“Well I’m a great father only because I have you,” he compliments you and begins to caress your chin. “Without you I don’t know how I would do it.”
You hum softly and press a kiss on his lips. “Sometimes I think war is easier,” you admit.
Jon chuckles and nods. “Oh so much easier. I mean I don’t miss fighting battles, but it was easier. Now here with the kids I have to be careful how I step…one wrong move and someone’s angry at me…like Robb. Albeit with him I don't know where I went wrong. And if I try to retrace my steps I end up more lost.”
You exhale deeply and lay your head back down on his chest. “He’s just feeling left out without a dragon.”
“Is that what he said?” Jon asks.
You nod. “Basically yes. He feels like he doesn’t belong. Like you hate him because of it.”
Jon shakes his head quickly. “Never. I never could.”
“I know, but he’s just feeling insecure. It’s part of growing up, but the best thing you can do is keep trying, okay? Maybe try and talk to him. Take him out. Go hunting, or do something he likes.” You suggest.
Jon’s chest rises as he draws in a deep breath, and then pulls your head down as it falls when he breathes out. “I hope he wants to.” He says.
“Oh, he will,” you assure him. “My only hope now is that if he doesn’t get that dragon he doesn’t spiral. He’s so dependent on getting one. Like if his life depends on it. Is it bad to expect that from him?” You ask quietly as if Robb could hear. “Does that make me horrible?”
“No,” Jon answers without hesitance. “You’re just worried, we know how he is. You’re just preparing so it doesn’t sneak up on you….but I don’t know either…I think we just have to be there for him. Support him.”
You let out a shaky breath and nod in agreement.
You’ll still hope he does get his dragon though.
——
*SOMETIME LATER. DRAGONSTONE*
“I live simply with hope for a better today for tomorrow is not promised.”
You lower your gaze and meet the dark gaze of Rhaenyra as she closes the book in her hand.
“That’s my favorite book,” you tell her. “I especially like it when you read it to me.” You caress her chin and she flashes you a smile.
Due to her being heir, now that she’s older and understands more matters, you like to have her by your side at small council meetings, hearings, really anything to do with Queen duties to get her prepared. It’s why your relationship is stronger now than it was before, because you’re with each other most of the day.
“I know. It’s one of my favorites too,” she says as she flips around to lay on her stomach on the blanket you have over the sand. “What did you draw?” She asks you.
You smirk and hand her your sketch journal to show her the drawing you drew of her as she was reading with her head on your lap.
“I shall have it hanged,” she says. “Maybe in the art gallery at home. I love it. I wish I could draw as good as you.”
“You do have an amazing talent for music,” you comfort her. “You brought your father to tears when you played the harp for the first time, remember?”
Rhaenyra snickers as she drops her head. “Father cries for my smallest achievements. When I become Queen will he sob?” He pokes fun at him.
“I bet you he will,” you play along. “10 golden dragons that he does.”
Rhaenyra glances over at Jon playing some game with Ryuu and smirks. “I’ll take that bet.” She flips back around to lay her head on your lap and takes time to admire the blue sky overhead. “Can I tell you something?”
You hum in agreement whilst you look at Aemon a few feet down the beach flying his kite.
“Robb snuck girls into his chambers last week,” Rhaenyra sells out her twin brother, causing you to snap your eyes to her and shoot her a narrowed gaze.
“What?” You scoff in disbelief.
Rhaenyra nods. “He and Maester Sam’s Jon were getting drunk and probably laying with those woman.”
Oh not Sam’s Jon, you do notice Ryuu’s crush on the older boy. This will break his heart.
“Who else knows?” You ask her and catch Ryuu laughing with Jon.
“Just me and Daeron, just don’t tell him I told you,” she lets you know.
You sigh and look around for Robb and Daeron but they continue not to show up on the beach. “I’ll talk to your father and then talk to Robb. Because if he gets one of those girls pregnant he will have to take care of it.”
Rhaenyra snorts. “Yeah, sure he will. He can’t even wipe his own ass right.”
You lower your eyes to look at her and try not to laugh, but you can’t help but let out a soft giggle.
“Ahh help me!” A shout cuts through the breezes. “Let me go! Daddy!”
You snap your eyes to where it comes from and see Edria wrestling with Oraena in the shore. And just as Jon breaks away from where he is you get up to and rush over to the pair of girls to try and break up the fight.
“Edria, let go of your sister!” Jon yells as he tries to pull her off, but Edria shifts away and shoves Oraena’s face in the water, causing Ryuu to laugh and Aemon to grasp onto you with worry.
“Edria!” You yell out, but it’s like going to deaf ears. The Queensguard try to step in, but you assure them that it’s okay. And luckily Jon manages to break them apart, letting you rush over to Oraena to pull her out of the water.
“Tell me what happened?” You demand from both of them as you grab Oraena’s chin as you notice scratch marks on her face. “Now.”
“Oraena splashed water in my eye after I told her not to and it stung!” Edria shouts and pulls away from Jon. “She—”
“Edria bit me!” Oraena counters and throws her arm up to show the bite mark on her wrist. “And she shoved me in the water!” Oraena looks up at you with her eyes clouding with tears and then glances at Jon. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” she whines.
You let go of her and then look over at Jon and meet his gaze. You don’t say anything, but you share a speechless conversation through your gazes.
“You’re both grounded, we’ll come up with your punishments tomorrow Oraena,” Jon breaks it to them. “Edria, since you swung first you won’t attend training for a week, nor can you go dragon riding for that same amount of time.”
Edria gasps and twists around to face you with that same disbelief. “Mother, you cannot allow this!”
You nod. “I can and I will, you're sisters, not enemies at war. Now go to separate parts of the beach.”
Edria huffs out before she yells and kicks sand as she stomps away, whilst Aemon steps towards Oraena and signs at her very seriously. “Careful, O, you might want to get that checked out, Edria has rabies.”
Ryuu chuckles loudly and makes sure to let his sister know what was said. “Edria does have rabies! Nice one Aemon!”
Edria spins around quickly and parts her lips to speak, but you shoot her a warning look and she just glares at her bothers before she turns again and continues to storm away.
“Daddy please it was not my fault,” Oraena begs Jon as she begins to follow him towards where Rhaenyra stayed. “You can’t punish me.”
Jon tries not to look at her since he knows he’ll probably give in if he does. “Sorry, O, but your mother is right. You’re sisters, you shouldn’t be fighting.” He tells her.
“Ryuu,” you call out without having to look over at him. “Leave Edria alone. You’ll get her even angrier.”
“Will not!”
You roll your eyes and get ready to add onto the converstion Jon is having, but you’re quickly cut off by a different voice approaching the beach.
“Your Grace, my prince.”
You look up and see Ser May dragging Robb along with her, and you notice he’s sporting a bloody nose. After her follows Ser Podrick with Daeron following at his side, and he has a cut lip.
Great another fight.
“What happened?” You ask as you slowly approach the group meeting you half way
“We found them fighting just in the valley above,” Ser May shares and pushes Robb towards you.
You swallow thickly and glance at both boys, seeing that Daeron lowers his head out of shame, and Robb just glares past you, making sure not to look at either Jon or you.
“Were there any weapons?” You ask the Knights.
Ser Podrick shakes his head. “No, Your Grace. They seemed to be just fist fighting.”
You exhale deeply and nod. “Okay,” you whisper. “Thank you. Leave us.” You then look over at Rhaenyra and point your eyes to the castle.
And without fault the two knights do as they were ordered, whilst Rhaenyra takes her siblings along with her, even if they want to stay and gossip.
It’s only once the kids are out of ear shot that Jon interrogates both boys. “I will ask nicely now, what happened? I want the truth.”
Robb meets Jon’s gaze and then yours, but he then drops his eyes and doesn’t answer, letting you press Daeron with a glare.
But he stays quiet too.
“You both are grown men,” Jon raises his voice. “Act like one and tell us what happened now!”
Both boys continue to stay quiet for a moment longer, so Jon steps forward and grabs Robb by the collar of his shirt and presses him with anger. “You are the oldest, Robb, tell me now.”
Robb scoffs and pushes Jon away so he’d let go of him.
“Robb,” you say softer. “Daeron, one of you has to speak. Your mother demands it.”
Just as you think you’d have to repeat yourself Robb grumbles. “Daeron claimed Helios. My dragon! My brother's dragon!” He sneers out at Daeron.
Damn it.
“I told you already I did not do it on purpose,” Daeron argues back softer. “It was not to spite you.”
You and Jon share a concerned look. And rather than trying to solve this, Jon lets you do it since you know more about dragons.
“Robb, it does not work like that and you know it. Yes I am sorry that it happened, but…it was just not fate for you to bond with Helios.” You try to grab his shoulder but he steps back from your touch. “Robb, you can bond with another. This is not the end and nothing to get angry over. Fate did not want it that way, it’s that simple.”
Robb sniffles and then glares at you. “You told me. You promised!”
You shake your head. “I did not do such a thing—”
“We were here for me!” Robb cuts you off abruptly. “But as always Daeron makes it about him!” Robb points at his brother and begins to stomp towards him, but Jon pulls him back. “Helios was my dragon!”
“Helios was no one’s dragon,” Jon rebuttals. “And it’s no reason to be fighting your brother for it.”
“He is not my brother,” Robb hisses and pulls his arm away from Jon’s touch. “He’s the son of a—”
“Robb,” you bellow. “That’s enough. Go to your quarters now. Calm down. We’ll go talk to you again.”
Robb throws his arms up and parts his lips to argue back, but he just glances at all of you before he lets out a feigned laugh and turns to storm away.
“Don’t listen to him, he doesn’t mean it,” Jon tries to assure Daeron. “He’s just angry.”
Daeron glances back at Robb and nods softly. “Yes, I know. You have to know I didn’t do it to be malicious. I found Helios when I was walking down to the beach and I just…” he pauses and his eyes soften as his lips tug to a smile. “I just had this feeling.”
You mirror his soft smile and nod. “Yes, we know that feeling exactly. And I know your intentions are pure. Robb is just…” you sigh. “Angry. Don’t let that ruin your moment. Okay? Celebrate if you must.” You grab his chin and caress it. “Congratulations my sweet sunspot.”
Daeron offers you a sweet smile and nods in comprhension.
You then exhale deeply and look to Jon. “I’ll go talk to the others, explain what happened.” You tell both men.
Jon nods and then presses a kiss on your cheek. “Go I want to talk to Daeron.”
You let your gaze linger on both Jon and Daeron once more before you break away and head for the castle alone with your thoughts.
Like why is it that Robb and Daeron can’t get along. And it’s not like no one can get along with Daeron, it’s just Robb who finds his indifferences with him. But why? You nursed the both of them, they got long as toddlers, you don’t favor one over the other, so why?
Sometimes it feels like you’re failing her…Daenerys. You try so hard, but no matter what, Robb can’t find it in his heart to welcome him, to think of him as one of his siblings. It can’t be just because they’re men, there has to be a reason, but what?
“I’m sorry Daenerys,” you whisper to the blue sky.
.
.
.
.
A/N- One more chapter left! 😓 also did you catch the parallels?
Tagged: @watercolorskyy @jessimay89 @cecespizza01 @theroyalbrownbarbie @crybabyatthediscooffandoms @neenieweenie @midnightpantherxo @ashleyforeverareject @dark-night-sky-99 @starwarssluts @stargaryenx @defiantblade12 @cloudroomblog
#fanfiction#damn-stark#sandstorm#game of thrones fanfiction#game of thrones#chapter 17#game of thrones fanfic#got#got fanfiction#got fanfic#Jon snow#jon snow x targaryen!reader#jon snow x fem!reader#jon snow x targaryen!femreader#jon snow fanfiction#jon snow fic#jon snow x reader#jon snow x y/n#jon snow x you#Jon snow fanfic#samwell tarly#podrick payne#ser brienne
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Some thoughts on today's @a-mag-a-day episode, MAG 147 (with spoilers through s5!).
First a note on the voice acting. It's interesting to me how normally when reading a statement, Jon's voice takes on the tone of the person whose statement it is. In the cases where there's a dedicated voice actor for the character, he typically does something of an impression of them to match their style (like Elias). However in this case I assume they hadn't cast Annabelle yet, and the reading of this statement doesn't quite match the way she sounds in my head from knowing her in s5.
Okay, aside from that, this episode really again brings home the difference that a relisten makes. The basement of Hilltop Road, the bits and pieces about free will, the whole thing about whether Jon can stop himself from reading a statement. Everything for the endgame is right there, and yet the first time I listened to it all I got was "Hilltop Road is weird and Jon's got new spooky addictions." I barely remembered this episode at all by the time I got to the end, but that may partly have been a side effect of binge listening instead of taking the time to really consider each episode.
I really, really like the descriptions of Jon's Beholding addiction here. It's interesting to consider whether he needs statements more the way he needs cigarettes, or the way he needs food and water. One of them he'll die without, the other he'll have withdrawal symptoms but survive. Which is it? Does the distinction make any sort of meaningful difference?
I also really like how he admits that he doesn't want to stop, that he likes taking statements. We're progressing along the becoming-a-monster journey and our end goal is s5 Jon, who despite his guilt is generally the happiest we've seen him the whole series.
Anyway, he likes taking statements, except this one, apparently. Why is that? Is it because there's a built-in struggle between the web and the eye? Is it because it was offered freely and not taken? Is it because he experiences the feelings of the statement-giver and those feelings are just a big old ick to him given his own fear of spiders?
Also, why does this statement take so much out of him? Did it fail to feed the eye? Or is it feeding too much?
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Jon Snow x she/her!reader
Flowers
His footsteps are at a marching pace, his mind flying away with itself in countless different directions, but all leading back to you, making his goal clear. It was no longer enough, the simple things he did. When you have gone out of your way each and everyday that you have known Jon to show him in every way that you can, telling him through languages he didn’t know before meeting you, languages he only understands when you speak them, when you are the vessel through which these sentiments reach not his ears, but his heart. A smile that you save just for Jon Snow, a laugh that has him bursting with pride every time he causes it, the profoundly kind things you say, the sweet letters you have written to him without motivation or specific reason, simply to tell him. The way that your hand instinctively reaches for his in moments of fear or excitement, your eyes searching for him so obviously in every room you enter, him always being the first person you greet when in a group of people, going above and beyond to include him in every conversation and somehow transitioning the topic to a means of complimenting him, alongside the compliments that you already pay him at any and every opportunity. Leaving letters filled with hushed secrets in places only he will find them and never addressing them until he tells you he has found them, resulting in - at times - weeks between your gentle hands writing the words and such words then reaching him. It is no longer enough, the simple things he does for you.
While he opens every door for you, gestures for you to walk in before him, offers you his arm when walking with you, returns your letters and bashfully delivers them directly to you, reciprocates your compliments tenfold and gushes over you to anyone that will listen, and even if they wont - it is no longer enough, Jon feels it in his chest, he should be doing more, he wants to do more, to show you, too.
And so, he marches, with one goal in mind. Upon seeing his father walking through the hall, Jon Snow makes a beeline for him, catching his eye and stopping him in his path.
“Father, I must ask you something, but in turn ask that you do not repeat the conversation to anyone.” Jon says, voice nervous and already embarrassed.
Frowning in confusion and fatherly concern, Lord Eddard Stark nods. “Go on, speak freely.”
Jon takes a deep breath, avoiding his father’s eyes. “What…What do girls like?”
Immediately, the older Stark’s expression softens into a knowing, humored but gentle smile. “Oh, son.” He chuckles, patting his boy on his back. “Girls like many things, most times it is best to ask the girl what she likes. However, I think it is a universal fact that anyone, girl or not, will understand the gesture of flowers.”
Jon’s eyes widen with the realization, nodding frantically as he hurriedly thanks his father and disappears outside again. Leaving his father watching on with a proud, loving smile on his face.
With a new mission in mind, Jon Snow sets off. It quickly dawns on him that, as a simple man, he knows not which buds are flowers and which are weeds. For a moment, the vision of presenting you with a bundle of weeds and you turning your nose up at them in insult makes his blood run cold, until he remembers who you are. Of course, you will know that Jon does not know the difference and will not take offense to such a thing, but Jon does not want to take any chances. Just in case, he ensures he only picks the flowers that he looks at and can think of a reason for giving to you, so that if you ask, he can tell you, and if you don't, he can rest easy knowing that every bud he presents you with has its reason.
The townsfolk of Winterfell gossip as any do, but that morning, they sweetly exchange mentions of spotting Jon Snow just outside the wall, then at the door of the castle, and finally heading into the Godswood, determined frown fixed on the ground and a small bundle of flowers forming in his hands as he goes.
News of Jon being in the Godswood reaches your ears, and before long you’re running to meet him there, curious as to what he’s up to and hoping all is well since you saw him at first light. You arrive at the exact moment he passes the veil of trees, stepping into the clearing and stopping dead in his tracks, eyes wide at the sight of you. He had hoped he would have slightly longer than this to mentally prepare for such an exchange, but of course, you never fail to surprise him. Before you have time to focus on what is in his hands, he’s quick to conceal the gift beneath his cloak. Approaching with a curious smile, you meet him halfway, and he laughs airily.
“I did not expect to see you so soon.”
Your smile blooms into a grin. “Well, I am nothing if not a surprise!”
Jon nods, smiling right back at you. “Aye, and a welcome one.”
His words are enough to make your heart flutter, but there are more pressing matters at hand. Gesturing to the Godswood, you raise an eyebrow. “Was the a particular reason to your travels this morning, or did you just fancy a walk?”
Jon chuckles, your playful tone not lost on him. “There was a particular reason, and here you are.”
Your eyes widen, and internally, Jon is cheering, having actually surprised you for a change. “Me? What have I done to cause your forest-bound antics?”
Taking a deep breath, Jon considers each and every version of the words he been rehearsing in his mind since setting out on his journey.
“All of the kind things you do and say, every way that you tell me you care for me, so much, and like nobody else ever has. For all that you have done, and no doubt will do, I sought a way to thank you, properly. This is to be the first of many, if it please you.” Swallowing his nervousness and tensing his hands to prevent them from shaking anymore, Jon unveils the small bouquet of flowers that he had been hiding beneath his cloak and holds them out to you.
The gasp that passes your lips and the tears that fill your eyes are enough to inform Jon he has done well enough to be allowed to breathe again, something he had forgotten how to do for several seconds.
“Jon!” You gasp again, covering your mouth with your hands and leaning closer to look at every flower and every color that he had selected for you and ordered in his own way.
He watches you with adoring eyes, practicing the lines in his head just in case you ask. Unfortunately, in his excitement, he does not give you the chance.
“The white flowers, for the way the sun catches tears in your eyes, exactly as it is now. The red and pink flowers all reminded me of your lips on different days, depending on the cold. Yellow, because you light up every room you walk into.” He laughs in disbelief at that, mentally adding that to him, you practically glow, before continuing. “Purple and deep blue for the nights spent under the stars with you, each one the best night of my life. Orange for every sunrise and sunset I've seen reflected in your eyes.” He confesses, the words tumbling from his lips.
The tears rolling down your cheeks struggle to keep up.
“Jon, this-” You choke out, hurrying to wipe your eyes and compose yourself. “This is the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me. I’m going to learn how to press and dry these properly, to frame them, keep them and this gesture from you forever.”
With shaking hands, you take the flowers from Jon, admiring them wordlessly, and he watches on with a lovesick gaze. Each and every one, picked with care and presented to you with even more.
“Thank you.” You tell him, voice breaking with the sincerity of your gratitude, which Jon immediately shrugs off.
“You need not thank me, (Y/N), this is to thank you, after all, for all that you are.”
Bringing the flowers to your chest, you smile up at him in a gaze. “All that I am is yours, Jon Snow.”
Letting go of the bouquet with one hand, you take hold of Jon’s in the space between you, and he squeezes your fingers gently.
“If that be so, then all of me is much the same. Yours.” He nods, having never been more certain of anything in his life.
Closing the space between you, you lean upwards to place a slow, sweet kiss on his lips, halting the world in its entirety, because to Jon, you are everything in his world. The sun, sea, and sky. The stars, the grass beneath him, the trees around him, the walls of Winterfell; all of it, everything, reminds him of you, because he sees you in everything that exists.
Pulling away with lidded eyes, Jon Snow stares into your soul, seeing your every thought and promise laid bare for him, as you intend.
Flowers, it seems, were the correct course of action after all. He must remember to thank his father for such a wonderful idea before he parts for King’s Landing. Although, Jon thinks, no doubt he will have more time to discuss it with him at length on his return. By then, Jon hopes to ask his father further advice, this time on asking for a woman’s hand.
—————
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#jon snow#jon snow imagine#jon snow x reader#game of thrones#x reader#imagine#imagines#fanfic#fanfiction#headcannon#headcannons
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suddenly tormented with Thoughts about jon... im currently listening to someone else talk about how, when jon realized martin getting caught by prentiss was at least partially his fault, his way of dealing with his guilt was to become very diligent in doing what he could to keep martin safe. offers him the cot, starts trying to encourage everyone in the archives to be more careful in their investigating, bothers elias about safety measures, etc.
and i was just thinking that how this is about him feeling guilty, yeah, but i think it's also another way jon's childhood trauma manifests...? i feel like maybe it is, to some amount, projection?
the stuff with mr. spider and the web obviously influenced him a lot in terms of why he tends to get severely paranoid and questions others' motivations and his own agency in things. but in a more mundane way, i wonder if it also influenced how he reacts to not just his own 'helplessness', but others'? like, jon recognizes that martin was not given enough attention and consideration and care; jon texts him and takes prentiss' response as martin, accepts it at face value, but still... two weeks is a long time? no one even considered checking in on martin after barely hearing from him
i guess im trying to say is like... jon responds very immediately and intensely to this because he is attempting to do for martin what was not done for him. jon almost got eaten by a big, scary spider; his guardian, who up to then had been somewhat neglectful and/or dismissive of his needs, does not believe him about the incident. jon grows up feeling unsafe because the only person he really had around to protect him failed to make him feel like he could rely on her for help or support
imo this is a big thing with jon in general... his lack of a support system. up for debate on how much of that is his own 'fault' - he's not exactly a super sociable person, he's never been good at making friends, but- i dunno, being a bit abrasive doesn't mean you deserve to never have anyone to rely on. and he certainly didn't deserve to be ignored, resented, bullied, and hunted as a young child
but yeah... im thinking about how maybe a desire to offer support, even if it doesn't seem like he can really do much, is a very Jon Thing, and we see it very early, and it's just now occurring to me it might be tied to all this. how his fear was born and how it was cultivated by a lack of love and attention, how he was left to develop his own coping mechanisms, most of which (arguably) only exacerbated his problems in the long run... this is a personality trait we see in jon throughout the entire show's run, too - starts with martin, but we see how guilty and hurt he is over what happens with sasha, and then over time we see as he tries his best to become more trusting and open to others in an attempt to demonstrate his interest in their safety and offer his support
just think it's really like... both cute and charming but really sad and telling, that the first major glimpse we see of the 'real' jon behind his stuffy, skeptical facade is him recognizing that someone else has been neglected and nearly lost to something horrible, and his immediate response is to do as much as he can to verbalize belief in their experience, offer up what he can to help them feel safe, and do everything in his limited power to make sure they aren't harmed by the threat again
#endlesschatter#every day jon is like hm im doomed and can never save myself. i will try to save someone else then
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