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tomriddleslove · 2 months

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Devilish.

✩ Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader

Summary: The one where Mattheo can’t seem to get enough of you, even if you’re ruining him. You’re the only person who keeps him on his toes, and as much as he hates you, he loves the chase. Alternatively: Mattheo is a masochist.

A/N: Two posts in one day? I’m having wayy too much fun with this.

Warnings: Unhealthy relationship, Toxic Behaviour, SMUT MDNI, degradation, choking, p in v!

Songs: Devilish - Chase Atlantic.

Theodore sighs as Mattheo walks into the room, throwing his bag down with a little too much force. Draco’s eyes flicker up from his book, outstretched on his bed as he meets Theodore's eyes with an amused gaze.

“Again?” Blaise hums, not looking up from the potions essay he had been pouring over for the past 4 days. Mattheo huffs a sigh of agreement, fishing around in his pocket for a joint. He places the blunt between his perfectly plush lips, lighting it wordlessly as he takes a deep drag.

“Come on, Mattheo. Surely enough is enough at some point?” Theodore frowns, watching Mattheo with a look of both concern and frustration. Mattheo exhales a cloud of smoke, his gaze distant as he leans back against the wall.

"You know how it is, Theo," Mattheo mutters. "I can't help it."

Theodore shakes his head, resisting the urge to reach out and slap some sense into his stubborn friend as he speaks. "But she's toxic for you, man. You're constantly on edge, always getting pissed off. It's not healthy."

Mattheo's jaw tightens, the muscles working as he takes another drag from the blunt. "I know, I know," he grumbles.

“Why don't you leave her? You could have any girl in the castle,” Draco hums, closing his book.

“To be fair, she really is something else.” Blaise muses, and Draco snickers. Mattheo shoots them both a warning glance and they shut up rather quickly.

“Doesn’t matter. They’re always fighting, and I can't remember the last time a week has gone by without you two breaking up.” Theodore points out, his voice almost exasperated.

Mattheo remains silent for a second, choosing to ignore the way Draco rolls his eyes as he looks at Theodore.

"I can't just leave her," he grumbles, his voice tinged with resignation. "It's not that simple."

Theodore lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping. "This is beyond pussy whipped. You’re actually just going to let her get to you like that?”

Mattheo shrugs, stubbing out the partially consumed blunt as he pushes himself off the floor.

Before he has the chance to respond, Blaise speaks.

“Enough. Stop with this depressing shit. Go get your shit done and come to Barlow’s party tonight. You need to get drunk, get laid, and get your mind off of her.” Blaise says, getting up from the desk as he crams his work into his bag.

“I’m going to hand this to Snape before he has my balls.” He declares, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

Draco nods in agreement, a smirk playing on his lips. "Yeah, Blaise is right. You need a night out, mate. Forget about her for once."

“Alright alright, whatever,” Mattheo says dismissively, leaving Theodore’s room.

He walks back to his dorm, lost in his own thoughts.

He can't exactly pinpoint where it all went downhill. Perhaps it was doomed from the start. Mattheo remembers the day you first joined, taking a seat next to him in transfiguration. It was extremely odd for a student to transfer so late into the school year but he could only assure you had already been acquainted with the N.E.W.T content beforehand, so it was merely a matter of being in a new environment. You remained silent as the teacher spoke, but the second she set you off on your practical task (transfiguring a toad to a toadstool), you leaned back in your chair, flashing the skin that peeked out from the top of your thigh highs, sent him an impish grin and spoke, your voice sweet like honey.

It was established from that day that the two of you had something going on. It was never an official thing, but you frequented Mattheo’s bed more often than your own, and you certainly weren’t privy to messy makeout sessions in the far corner of the common room. As much as everyone yearned to get their hands on the new girl, Mattheo had swooped in and taken her for himself from day one. It only made you all the more desirable when people realised you were a challenge for Mattheo too.

Usually, all the girls Mattheo got with were pushovers, fawning over him and willing to do anything to get into his good graces. You were the opposite, however, stubborn and headstrong. You led him on and ghosted him. You were hot and cold, all over him one minute then swearing at him the next. You had him wrapped around your finger, and he hated you.

But god, he loved it.

It was always the same story, get together, do something stupid, get into an argument, rile each other up until you hate fuck and then get back together. It was almost monotonous to others, but to Mattheo, it was a sick form of addiction, the highs he felt massively outweighing the toll it was taking on him.

The way you would tease him, push his buttons, drive him to the edge of madness, only to pull him back in with a single glance or touch? It was a vicious cycle, one that left him feeling drained and empty, yet strangely craving more. You were enough to bring any man to their knees, and Mattheo was no different.

He collapses onto his bed, and the faint smell of your perfume has him reeling once more. He can’t tell whether he loves or despises it, but that was the case for many things with you and Mattheo.

As Mattheo lay on his bed, grappling with his thoughts, his phone buzzed with a new message notification. He hesitated for a moment, his thumb hovering over the screen, before finally giving in to the temptation and unlocking his phone.

… : You coming to the party tonight?

Of course, you’d be there. You’d always be there.

Parties were often the main reason the two of you would start fighting. You’d let some guy get too handsy with you, or Mattheo would let girls grind all over him. He even recalls the last time you were straight-up making out with a girl from Ravenclaw right in front of him.

With a resigned sigh, he types out a response.

Mattheo: Yeah, I’ll be there.

He types something out, his finger hovering over the send button. Fuelled by a mixture of hate, pettiness and amusement, he hits send.

Mattheo: You sure you should be going? You cant really handle your alcohol that well darling.

… is typing

… has sent a chat!

… : Funny coming from someone who always seems to stumble out of the party into another girl’s bed.

Mattheo huffs out a laugh, tossing his phone onto his bed as he gets up, and goes to take a shower.

Mattheo navigates the empty corridors of Hogwarts, seemingly silent. As he approaches the Room of Requirement, the sound of music pounding against the walls becomes almost deafening, vibrating through the air like a palpable force. The Ravenclaws certainly were smart buggers, having created a spell that only alerts someone of the noise if they were intended to be there. It's the very same reason Professor Snape billowed past the room mere minutes ago without suspecting a thing.

Pushing open the heavy wooden door, Mattheo is greeted by a wave of heat and energy, the room alive with the pulsating rhythm of the music. Coloured lights flash in time with the beat, casting ever-changing patterns across the faces of the partygoers.

The air is thick with the scent of sweat and alcohol, mingling with the sweet undertones of perfume and cologne. Bodies press together on the makeshift dance floor, moving in sync with the music, lost in the euphoria of the moment.

Mattheo takes it all in with a sense of detachment, his eyes scanning the crowd for familiar faces. He spots Blaise and Draco near the makeshift bar, their laughter echoing over the din of the music as they pass around a bottle of fire whiskey.

He navigates his way through the throng of people, ignoring the roamning hands of random girls as he approaches his friends.

Blaise claps him on the back, offering him the bottle of fire whiskey they had been sharing earlier. Draco flashes him a knowing smirk, raising his own drink in a silent toast to their reunion.

"Good to see you, mate," Blaise says, his voice barely audible over the pounding music. "We were starting to think you'd never show."

Mattheo accepts the bottle with a nod of thanks, taking a long swig of the fiery liquid. The burn of the alcohol sends a shiver down his spine, momentarily distracting him .

"Where's [name]?" Mattheo asks, his voice betraying a hint of curiosity mixed with resignation.

His friends exchange uneasy glances, their expressions shifting with a mixture of sympathy and discomfort.

Theo clears his throat, his gaze flickering towards the dance floor. "She's over there," he says, his voice tinged with a hint of apprehension.

Mattheo follows his friend's gaze, his jaw clenching as he catches site of you.

Dressed in a tight corset top that left little to the imagination and a short skirt, you threw your head back, letting the guy behind you run his hands all over your body as you dance to the rhythm.

The lights flash over the dance floor, illuminating you in a way that makes you seem dangerously alluring. Even in such a position where Mattheo hates you, he can’t help but feel drawn in by you.

Like a siren of sorts, beckoning him with your call to his untimely demise, he stood no chance.

Mattheo's grip tightens around the bottle of whiskey, his knuckles turning white as he watches you dance with the other guy. A surge of anger rushes through him, clouding his already hazy mind.

Without a second thought, Mattheo drains the rest of the whiskey in one swift motion, before slamming the bottle down with a force that has Lorenzo and Blaise exchanging wary looks.

Pushing through the crowded dance floor, Mattheo makes his way towards you, his jaw set in determination. As he approaches, he can hear the faint sound of your laughter mingling with the music, only further fuelling his anger.

The guy dancing with you leans in, pressing his lips to your neck in a possessive gesture that sets Mattheo's blood boiling. In a fit of rage, he reaches out, grabbing the guy by the collar and pulling him away from you with a forceful shove.

The guy stumbles back, caught off guard by Mattheo's sudden aggression. Before he has a chance to react, Mattheo's fist connects with his jaw in a swift, punishing blow.

The guy staggers backwards, clutching his jaw in pain as he glares at Mattheo with shock . Without a word, he lunges forward, fists flying as the two of them fight.

Mattheo fights with the intent to kill, delivering blow after sickening blow till the sound of crunching is reduced to nothing. His knuckles burn, his own blood mixing with the blood of the poor tosser who was trying to make a move on you.

“Mattheo, enough!” Theo snaps, drawing Mattheo out of his trance-like state as he pulls Mattheo off the boy. He’s practically unresponsive on the floor, groaning as he clutches his face. By this point the room is near silent, the crowd completely parted to leave Mattheo, Theo, Blaise, the boy and you.

Mattheo looks up at you and he can tell you are furious. Without saying a word you grab him by the scruff of the shirt, dragging him outside. He stumbles after you as you pull him along, your steps firm and assured as you practically haul him back to his room.

You push him through the door, slamming it behind you as you turn to face him. He opens to mouth to speak but is cut off when you meet him with a swift slap to the face, his head jerking to the side.

“You fucking prick.” You snap, thrusting your hand into the curls at the nape of his neck as you smash your lips onto his.

Mattheo stumbles back, caught off guard by the force of the slap and the sudden intensity of the kiss. His head reels, pain and desire coursing through his veins. His hands instinctively reach out, gripping your waist tightly as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss with a raw hunger.

His lips move against yours with a desperate need, the taste of firewhiskey and blood creating a heady mix that drives you mad.

Mattheo's hands roam your body, groping your ass with a firm squeeze as he presses you against the door, eliciting a small whimper from your lips.

You retaliate by tugging at his curls, biting his lower lip with a small grin amidst the kiss. You lap up the blood, and the action has Mattheo lifting you up and throwing you onto his bed before you can even comprehend it.

His hands move lower, slipping under your skirt, caressing your thighs with a possessive touch. He can feel the wetness between your thighs, driving him to the brink of madness.

Mattheo breaks the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he looks into your eyes, dark with desire and anger. "You hate me," he mutters, his voice laced with arousal. "But I can feel how much you want me."

Mattheo's fingers graze the edge of your panties, teasingly tracing the outline before slipping underneath, feeling how wet you were. He smirks at the pathetic whimper that escapes your lips, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of triumph and lust.

“You’re fucking soaked.” He murmurs, one hand coming down to undo his belt as he thrusts his two fingers into your mouth, causing you to gag.

“Taste how fucking needy you are for me.” He growls, throwing his belt to the side as he tugs his jeans down.

You suck on his fingers obediently, partly terrified yet incredibly turned on as you look up at him. You pull off with a wet pop, biting your lower lip as Mattheo groans.

He teases your slit with the tip of his cock, eliciting a low moan from you as he aligns with your entrance.

In one swift thrust he fills you up to the brim, paying no mind to your gasps as he sets a punishing pace. His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips, surely leaving marks as his hips snap into you with a ferocity that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Fu- Fuck. ‘s too much.” You babble, back arching off the bed as your hands fly up to grasp onto Mattheo. Your nails dig into his shoulders, a plethora of whimpers escaping your lips. You felt as though he was splitting you open with every rock of his hips, sending you hurtling towards your climax embarrassingly quickly.

Mattheos lips curl into a wicked grin, his tone taunting as he speaks.

“This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? Grinding all over that prick just because you needed me to fuck you.” He taunts.

His hips continue to move with an unyielding rhythm, each thrust hitting a sweet spot within you that sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

He leans down, nipping and kissing at the skin of your neck as he trails open mouth kisses down your décolleté.

His hands roam your body, gripping your breasts roughly, yanking your top off.

“Ah- Mattheo,” You gasp, nails scratching down his back as mascara streaks down your cheeks. The sound of skin slapping against skin is positively sinful, and the sight is heavenly to Mattheo.

“Shit-“ Mattheo grunts, a low groan escaping his lips as his free hand comes down to massage your clit in light circles. His other hand ghosts the expanse of your neck, giving it an experimental squeeze. “Squeezing me so tightly. Gonna cum f’me?” He murmurs, a sadistic grin on his face.

You feel the familiar coil knotting in your stomach, groaning lowly as you wrap your legs around Mattheo.

“Close,” You manage to choke out, overwhelmed by pleasure. You can’t focus on anything but the feeling of Mattheo’s cock dragging against your walls with every thrust, sending you into a haze. His thrusts become sloppier, and you know he’s close too.

He growls in response to your desperate admission, his own desire reaching its peak as he feels your walls clenching around him. He quickens his pace, his thrusts becoming more erratic and desperate.

With each thrust, Mattheo can feel the pressure building within him, the tension coiling tighter and tighter.

"Fuck," he groans your name, his voice filled with lust. He wipes a tear from your cheek using his thumb before forcing that same thumb into your mouth, a devilish grin on his face as he does so.

His grip on your neck tightens, his fingers digging into your skin possessively. The mixture of pleasure and pain pushing you both closer to the edge of release.

“Fuck, Mattheo!” You moan, the coil snapping as you reach your peak. Your body convulses beneath him, clenching around him tightly as you practically ascend to the heavens and back.

“Shit- What a sight.” He mutters, thrusting into you a few more times before his hips stall, finding his own release. He buries himself deep inside you, a groan escaping his lips as he squeezes your hips ever so slightly tighter.

You whimper at the loss of contact as he pulls out, collapsing next to you with a small sigh. He mutters a cleaning charm, ridding you of the sticky feeling between your thighs as you use what little strength you have left to move and rest your head on his chest.

His heart is pounding, still coming down from his high as he reaches over to his bedside table. He places a cigarette between his lips, the flame from the lighter illuminating the side of his face for a second. You admire the defined contours of his jaw, and the scatterings of purple and red that trail down his neck.

He wraps an arm around you, taking a drag of his cigarette as you look up at him. You pluck the cigarette from him, taking a drag yourself before passing it back.

Merlin, you were a horrible person but an addictive thing.

@schaebickel @multifandom-worlds @mildlyuninformative @lillywildly @gillyweeds @anti-hero03

#slytherin #slytherin boys #tom riddle #harry potter #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys fic #theodore nott #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo smut #slytherin smut

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thedepressedpelican · 1 month

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Downhill Demesne & Mussenden Temple BBC - Avoiding the drop

#mussenden temple #downhill demesne #downhill castle #downhill beach #downhill #county derry #ireland #life's a beach #imiging #original photography on tumblr #lensblr #youtube #see links

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the4chambersofmystery · 1 year

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#downhill castle #county derry #ireland #mussenden temple #atlantic ocean

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demilypyro · 28 days

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I guess the reason I fell off mlp in seasons 4 and 5 back in the day is cause I felt it was going downhill?

Twilight had gotten her wings which felt like a big upset in the show's status quo at the time. They kept introducing things like a big castle and new alicorn characters which felt like nothing but ploys to sell new merch. And I remember my favorite pony, Pinkie, felt like she was being flanderized from a pony who spread joy with intention to nothing but a gag character who acted completely irrationally in most episodes.

Now that I'm watching season 6 though... I'm not really noticing any of these problems? Or maybe they just don't feel as big to me. I'm having a great time just watching the show and seeing what they can do with the new and old characters. Twilight being an alicorn is old news now, I love the new character Starlight, and Pinkie displayed a lot of intelligence in the episode about the zombies and the one about the Indian restaurant.

Maybe now that I'm older, I'm just not as bothered by the minor problems that drove me up the wall when I was younger. I'm just having fun.

#mlp fim #mlp #season 6

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cat-mentality · 7 months

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One day people on this forsaken site will realize Cellbit is not nearly as trusting and naive as he makes himself to be, and that is the day I will finally be at peace.

Cellbit knows he isn't trusted!

He has known this since the very moment he got back and he acts accordingly because this man values trust and loyalty more than anything and he knows how to protect himself, it's just that the way he chose to go about it is not the way people expected.

The Order is an open secret. Because Cellbit wants it to be. He wants people to be included in the investigation, he wants to show them that they are trying to go against the Federation, that they are the problem and leaving the Island should be a main goal. Even if some of the members are so very obviously very fine with said Federation he still wants them to know what is going on.

Foolish is a friend. We all joke that Cellbit is his biggest apologist and honestly I think there is a bit of truth here in the way Cellbit remembers how, even in the middle of his darkest moment, Foolish was still there, he was one of the people who didn't judge him for any of his actions and that is a very important ally to have.

I think Cellbit also understands that Silly Guy Foolish is much more clever than anyone gives him credit for, and much darker as well, and in the end he will choose the side that benefits him and his family more.

And Cellbit wants that side to be the Order, not only as "fuck you" to the Federation, but because he sees a friend in Foolish. Is he someone he really trusts with all his secrets? Absolutely no, but he is someone he cares about and care for him is very tightly connected to trust.

And Jaiden!!!!! Cellbit knows Jaiden is very fond of Cucurucho but she is also someone he cares about, someone who is also very dear to his husband, and he also knows very well what loneliness can push you to do. He doesn't want her to feel excluded because he understands that will be the quickest way of shoving her into the Federation's arms.

So he keeps her close. He shows her the games the Federation plays with them, he exposes their cruelty and manipulation, he offers her a place and he hopes that it will be enough.

Cellbit has experience with how quickly things can go downhill in a group when he refuses to share knowledge with people, when he tries to control them. And he is not that man anymore, he is not the man who isolates himself to the point he has no one to watch his back.

But there are very few people who Cellbit trusts with his darkest secrets, with all the information he has collected. Richas, Roier and Forever. Those are the people who he knows have his back, the ones who would never willingly betray him as long as they could and those are the people Cellbit allows access to his true investigation, mas has a literal hidden room in his castle to store the important things he finds and that literally only his close family even knows that exists.

He doesn't show all his cards even if he does share much of what he finds- The truly sensitive shit? The mysteries without a conclusion? Those Cellbit keeps close to his chest, to be shared as the need arrives, if it ever does.

And also, Cellbit is fucking good liar.

So good in fact that he has managed to trick everyone into thinking he is a bad one. So when he does have to actually lie nobody bats an eye because they don't believe he is capable of lying so easily.

#im a Cellbit defender and apologist and i have a aneurysm when people act like is just trusting everyone and their grandma #qsmp cellbit #qsmp #qsmp analysis

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anatay004 · 2 years

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ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴛᴜʀɴꜱ ɢʀᴇʏ | ᴊᴀᴄᴀᴇʀʏꜱ ᴠᴇʟᴀʀʏᴏɴ (ᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜰᴏᴜʀ)

After heated arguments and tensions, feelings are finally revealed, but things can only go downhill when certain words aren’t chosen correctly and misinterpretations happen.

Part 5:

warnings: Targaryen incest.

Note: I just wanted to clarify that in this piece of fiction Jacaerys is not a minor. Despite the confusion with his age throughout the show, in this story he is over 18 and so is the reader. The reader is supposed to be a little older, actually, since she’s Rhaenyra’s true sister.

Also, thanks @thesithdiaries for the help!

ꜱʜᴇ ʟᴏɴɢᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜʀᴏᴡ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ʜɪᴍ.

ᴀ ᴄʜᴀɪʀ.

ʜᴇʀꜱᴇʟꜰ.

YOU WERE NOWHERE to be found.

After the heated argument with Jacaerys, the sun eventually settled over the bleak castle, but you were merely a ghost amongst the walls. Your handmaiden was growing anxious, she searched for you inside your chamber, she searched for you in the corridors, she searched for you in the darkest corners of the building, but there was no sight of you.

So, when her throat finally clogged with guilt, she hurried to inform Rhaenyra.

"Are you certain she's not here?" Rhaenyra questioned, her voice strangled with a hint of sheer shock and guilt altogether.

Your handmaiden nodded. "I am, your grace. I searched for her everywhere."

After hearing the news from Rhaenyra, Jacaerys was swift to deliver the command to search for you, he wanted every guard in the castle to explore the island even if the looming sky over their heads was threatening to pour down.

But then, as the night stole over the day and the clouds finally tore, Daemon broke to him the news. "Her dragon is not in the dragonpit."

His heart stopped.

"There's a fucking storm on the way," Jacaerys shouted, but his voice was muffled by the sheer blasts that ripped through the sky. "It's not safe, she is going to get hurt if she's still flying."

"We need to get inside, Jace," Daemon pushed forward, dropping a hand onto his shoulder to beckon him inside. "I'm sure she's alright, she's a fine rider, and you know it."

Jacacerys shrugged his touch away. "I'm going to look for her, Vermax is faster."

"Jace, listen to me – "

"– I will not lose her." Jacaerys declared, a hint of finality wrapped around his words as he spoke. His heart was hammering against his chest, he was on the brink of faltering at that moment – he was fucking scared.

What if you were hurt?

What if you never came back?

The questions burrowed deep beneath his chest until there was a hollow that ricocheted his fear. God, was he an idiot for making you run away.

He hated himself for mishandling his feelings. For not tethering what his heart felt to you, for not being able to act on them to dissipate the ridiculous hatred you both shared.

God, was he stupid.

But as the thoughts pestered his head and he made to walk towards the dragonpit, an enormous shadow fell upon him and he stopped when the deafening cry of your dragon roared in his eardrums. He exhaled a clouded breath as relief washed over him at the sight of your dragon landing and you on the sidesaddle.

"It's the princess!" The guards shouted as you began to climb down the dragon.

Jacaerys ran towards you, but the moment his figure stumbled into your line of vision, your dragon slithered and made to growl at him.

"It's okay, Baelor," You shouted amidst pouring rain, stretching your arm out to reach for your dragon's face to place a gentle touch. "He's rotten, he'll only make you sick if you eat him."

In another situation, Jacaerys would've felt indignant – even offended, but given the circumstances, he shut his mouth tight as he unbuttoned his coat to hold it over your head.

"What the hell were you thinking?" He demanded, trailing behind your frame as you made your way toward the castle with heavy steps. "You could've gotten yourself killed!"

"Good!" You shouted, trying to brush away the rain from your eyes with the back of your hand. "I'm sure that would have made you the happiest man alive!"

"Stop that – "

" – Why? I'm sure Baela would have taken my place without a heartbeat – " You spat, but the words froze on the tip of your tongue when he latched his hand onto your wrist and turned you around to face him. He was drenched, his hair was plastered over his forehead, and bits of rain clung onto his eyelashes stubbornly, but you still detected the hue that blazed his irises.

He shook his head. "She could never."

Your eyebrows knitted together. "Admit it."

A wry laugh escaped his mouth. "I could never fucking replace you. Can you not see?"

A chill kissed down your spine, you tried to coherent an answer, but the searing look in his eyes quenched down and soften. "What?"

"Please, tell me you're not fucking blind." He breathed out, a hint of pled echoed in his words as you watched with utter confusion.

"I – "

" – Get inside the fucking castle! Do you both want to die from a disease? Figure your shit inside." Daemon interjected, and just like that, the tension dissipated and you rushed inside the castle without a word.

And he watched with saddened eyes.

__________________________

"Do know how worried I was?"

After drying and changing into a clean nightgown, you leaned back in one of your room's chairs, rubbing your temples in distress. Rhaenyra was berating you, explaining the wrong behind your impulsive actions, but you did not care a bit about her lecture.

Instead, you shut your eyes. "Can we continue with this lesson tomorrow, please?"

After throwing you a look, Rhaenyra eventually nodded and closed the distance between you and her with a kiss on your head. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"

You stifled a smile. "I've been told."

"We'll talk in the morning, you look rather terrible. You should rest well, sister." Rhaenyra teased, dismissing the blank expression on your face before wishing you a goodnight's sleep.

After dismissing your handmaiden and offering her an apology for the distress you had caused her, you were left alone in your chamber. You were exhausted, the drowsiness in your head made it hard for you to wallow in peace, and yet – you thought about him.

The feelings that retaliated in the pit of your stomach were hard to elucidate.

You hated him for making you feel like shit. For toying with your demure, for shooting words to kill and cornering you out of the castle.

God, did you hate him.

And yet, after tasting the tang of freedom, you turned Baelor back to Dragonstone.

Because while you could one-up Jacaerys and get under his skin, you could still make him come back to you. And, belatedly, you realized he could do the same exact thing to you.

But why?

You reeled over the question for an hour and fumbled with the strands of your hair, braiding and undoing it for the sake of keeping yourself busy. You wouldn't elucidate the matter, you ran around the same enigma without a hint of relief as you held back a breath.

What did Jacaerys mean?

When did he say you couldn't be that blind?

And he couldn't replace you?

But yet he called you a whore.

"This is stupid." You eventually whispered, pinching the bridge of your nose before deciding to climb back to your feet. Hugging your arms, you walked out of your chamber and fugitively made to walk down a few stairs as the coldness seeped into your skin.

When you were finally outside his chamber, you hesitantly raised your arm and knocked, only to falter on your spot when the door parted. Jacaerys looked terrible, the moonlit corridor uncovered the dark circles under his eyes, his nose was puffy, and his face marred with evident sickness that made worry surge through you.

"What happened to you?" You whispered, stepping inside to slide an arm behind his back and steady his body. He leaned tiredly against you, dropping an arm behind your neck as you maneuvered him back to his bed.

"I think it was the rain and the cold." He mumbled, but his voice was a rough timbre that caught you off guard. You eased him down onto his pillow, watching as his body collapsed almost immediately at the faint gesture.

"I'm going to call a healer," You rushed, trying to stifle the panic that was slipping out your mouth, but he reached for your hand to stop you.

"Please, don't," He hoarsely mumbled, tracing patterns over your hand with the pad of his thumb as he watched you with feverish eyes.

"Jace," You breathed out, unable to hide the panic that was breaking through your face. His gaze softened, however, as the nickname subconsciously ripped past your lips.

"You've never called me that before." He sluggishly pointed out.

You blinked, belatedly realizing he was right. "I-I'm sure I have done it before."

He shook his head. "I would have remembered. The bitter name sounds dulcet in the sound of your voice, like honey and summer altogether. I could never forget that."

You tried to convince yourself he was mumbling incoherences, that he was under the influence of a searing fever that was making him speak. So, you tried to ignore the faint heat that burned your cheeks. "You're speaking nonsense."

"I swear I am not," He swiftly replied, looking back at you with pure-lit irises that made you hold back your breath. "I swear I love the sound of your voice, when it wraps around vowels and turns them mellifluent, it makes me hopeful."

"I – "

" – Why can't you see it?" He questioned, his eyebrows knitted in utter confusion as you tilted your head. "I live in the shadow of your vagueness, picking up the bits of warmth you leave behind with every step you take. And yet, you dare not to look my way."

You swallowed.

He wasn't speaking nonsense.

He was throwing confessions.

"You never mentioned this before," You argued, climbing onto the bed. He looked up tiredly, trying to coherent an answer as you leaned closer to place the back of your hand against his forehead. "You're burning..."

"I'll go away in a minute," He whispered and leaned into your palm when it slide down to curve against his warm cheek. "Just stay."

You inhaled softly, brushing his skin with the pad of your fingers. He seemed so vulnerable, so different from the person you encountered just a few hours ago. His usual nonchalant facade shattered before you – he seemed kind and loving, and for a second, you believed it.

"You're so deceiving." You admitted.

He almost chuckled. "You're the one to talk."

You opened your mouth to answer, but the words clogged in your throat when he fisted a piece of your nightgown and tugged it to make you lean closer. Your breath stilled, his face was merely an inch from touching your skin.

He only looked back at you, ignoring the evident surprise that flitted across your face when he eventually shifted his head so that his lips could brush against yours. The kiss was fleeting, but it captured the warmth of denial, the clashing of two feelings, and the heat of desire that you so often tried to quench down.

"Don't ever leave," He suddenly pled, searching for your gaze when the kiss broke and you instinctively leaned back. "I'm begging you.”

Caught off guard, you whispered. "I won't."

"I apologize for the things I said about you earlier. They were horrible and untrue, and I – " He paused, swallowing hard as your eyebrows knitted together in thought. " – Sometimes, I don't know how to handle the feelings I have for you. They're deceiving and I don't know how to control them, I really fucking don't."

The air rushed out of your lungs.

After years and years of troubling encounters and unknowing feelings, you finally realized what years of hatred failed to make you look.

He had feelings for you.

And so did you.

"I – "

"– Tomorrow you'll be my wife, anyway." He sluggishly whispered, blearily blinking in fatigue as he leaned down. "We will have all the time in the world to figure it out. Just you and I."

You smiled and draped the sheets over his body without a word. It was peculiar, the feeling that grew on your chest as he lulled himself to sleep, talking about you and him in lucid whispers. You wondered, how long had he felt that way?

But then, as you held his hand, something wounding unconsciously slipped out of his mouth. It was low, but it had strained your ears and you stilled at his sudden words. "A whore for a wife, such a silly thought I had. But can you blame me? All my life I've seen men surround you like dogs, and I've never seen you once complain about it. How could I not?"

Suddenly, as if his touch had suddenly torched your skin, you flinched away. He was half-asleep, but his words were lucid and complete, and you tried to swallow the knot that clogged your throat.

I'm so fucking stupid, you thought.

Wiping the tear that had raced down your face, you climbed back to your feet and furiously walked out the door without another word.

He could never love you.

Not like you wanted, anyway.

So, you called a healer and then made your way to your chamber with disappointment again.

#house of the dragon #daemon targeryan #hotd x reader #fanfic #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys x reader #aemond targaryen #jacaerys velaryon

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