#grace nam | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

darlingofvalyria · 8 months

Text

❝Will you forsake me, my love? And the babe I carry?❞

[ You had made a mistake. A slip up. You had overlooked the extent of Otto Hightower and his greed. Now you must make it right... or pay in fire and blood. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 5,504 ] [ series masterlist ] | jacaerys velaryon x targaryen aunt-wife!reader (aegon's twin sister),

contains— canon divergence - manipulative reader— gets darkish but not yet dd:dne - targcest, angsty as fuck, pregnancy - nsfw: p & v sex, oral (male receiving) - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— i... actually dunno how i got here tbh. thankfully, this isn't dead dove quite yet, but you, yes you, as jace's manipulative targ wife, almost did, girl, jfc. ahahaha! comments, reblogs & like at will, mwa! 💝 + now that there is a second part, and a third part i'm plotting (uh huh), this is officially a series!! its v loosey goosey, but it'll have a masterlist so... it means it has a taglist! message me to be tagged 💝 & if there are any drabbles/blurbs you wanna see!! message me lmk!! i have so many thoughts about jacey & manipulative reader hehe + dividers by @danowh0re

The only warning you receive is the missive hastily made by your twin.

In his panic, Aegon's scrawl had been barely legible, but the cold sweat that shot through your spine at making sense of the text had you keening over; fingers over your mouth, a dangerous gurgle in your stomach.

The world tilts, the air sucks inward.

Fear... Cold, weightless fear, settles in your heart.

"Princess!" Your maid, Dyana, shrieks, hands grasping your elbows to prevent you from falling. She turns to the door. "Call the maestre back! Now!"

You shake your head rapidly. "No, no. No Ser Addam. I am alright."

"But princess—"

"No, Dyana, I am alright." But you are pale, and a thrum shakes through fingers, rattling your ribcage and trying to yank your heart out of your throat. You have to find your footing or all will be lost. You grab Dyanna's arms and she winces. "Tell me- the prince - where is he?"

"I'm not sure, princess, I can—"

"Quickly! We shan't lose precious more time."

You turn to Meera. You had invested in her from the early age you had taken her in from the orphanage. Loyalty, in its absolution, must be rewarded.

And ease for your own plans can be disguised as a reward.

She steps forward obediently, hands clasped behind her back like a soldier awaiting orders. She is nondescript with plain features, easily able to hide between other common folk; and no one, truly, looks at a maid.

"Go to the Sea Dragon Tower, wait on the Rookery for Johan. Only Johan, do you understand me? Keep the missive that I will dictate to you close to his heart, hidden, and he must depart immediately. Throw extra gold at the captain, I do not care. Meera, no other eyes must touch the paper I will send, tell him of the utter import such a thing. No other than another Spider. We cannot unravel further than this or we will start burning."

Meera's gaze darkens, her posture straightening. "Yes, your grace."

You grasp her hands, your mind whirring— so many plots, so many lies, in between them, he flashes in your mind; the dark hair, the warmth of his hand, the sweet, simpered smile and the flicker of rage that dances like a flame. In and out and calmed and wild.

Dutiful. A Perfect Son. A Beloved Prince. Your Lord Husband.

He flashes in between plans and unraveled lies. Along it, Aegon's missive, quickly written, panic seeping in every vowel.

Grandsire had gotten to Aemond's head. Went to Storm's End. Met Lucerys. They are calling him Kinslayer.

Your head is pounding. Kinslayer, Kinslayer, Kinslayer. It churns your stomach, dries your throat. Lucerys dead. Aemond beheaded. Jacaerys' rage. Rhaenyra's. Dark Sister in the Rogue Prince's hand. All your clever threads, your webs and tales, everything you have sacrificed to get here— they are unraveling, the lives you care about, your fondness and love — the fear has moulded and churned; the Stranger now haunting the skies, searching for names, trying to grasp for your neck.

Aemond, You, Aegon, Helaena, Alicent, Jaeheara, Jaehearys, Maelor—

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond.

Your baby brother. Marred and disfigured, dutiful and dedicated. Sarcastic and princely; dancing with you if you ask. Reading with him in the library. A flickering hearth, a kind eye, a protective arm.

Your baby brother, beheaded, gaping mouth and bloodred eye.

Justice spun and spun, but oh so corrupted when they had taken his eye and no name step forth to claim.

Disfigured, marred, and dead.

Focus, you think, your mouth moving, words spilling, plans stretching. Focus.

Otto Hightower must die. It is a pressing thought, digging into the centrefold of your mushy, wet brain. Pressing and pressing like a fever as words of instructions, orders, must be sent along one spider to another.

Your hand drifts to your stomach as Meera leaves, in her head the words that must reach King's Landing. That must pass only the cleverest of hands. Your hand curls, your fist tightens enough that blood clots and beads through crescent rings. Clever girl. Clever spider. You have to believe in Meera and the people under your hushed employ.

You have no choice. You have built your webs, you must trust your spiders.

Not when you can't even trust your own fucking blood.

It took a while to get your network going in Dragonstone. As soon as the smell of brimstone and dragon broached your nostrils, the plans for moving what you had started in Kings Landing became the forefront plan. There is only so much movement you can make in a board full of enemies; and with so many more things to do, you cannot be restrained.

People with stakes, with ambitions and wants of their own— be that money, a good future, a house with warmth and love — if you can provide it enough, dash it in enough kindness and care, people, like ants, could move mountains for you.

It took most of hyour life to have what you established in Kings Landing. Most of your free time— feiging afternoon teas, walks along the garden; young lady things that will not arouse suspicion, fit for a pious, devoted daughter of Alicent Hightower — was spent building and building webs.

Thankfully, as a Princess of the Realm— and as the future Heir's wife, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms (the title tingles and throbs, comes alive in gasps and winning hands) — you can have your pick of maids and lady in waitings here too. Connections are important, and Jacaerys did not bereaved you of choice.

In fact, he so encouraged you to make changes to Dragonstone as you so chose fit.

"You are my wife," he sighed, pressing kiss after kiss to the side of your head. When he was wrapped around you like this— arms around your torso, a finger, almost absentmindedly, rubbing just the underside of your breast, and the smell of him, boyish but smoky, like a fireplace and first kiss, swaying you to a rhythm he is fond of, absentminded almost — it reminded you of how Vermax oft like to wrap around small hills and large rocks. A dragon mimicking another dragon; a twin soul so connected.

He sighed again as you run your own fingers against the back of his palm, against the side of his head behind you. "You may do so as you wish," he finished, nuzzling further into you as if he wants no more than to become one with you, flesh and blood. An engorged monster of sorts.

"Just your wife?" you teased. The wedding had only been a few moons ago. The missive had been immediately sent to Kings Landing (under your orders, of course, your new husband none the wiser as he had preferred a few more days of just you), and before lunch, your hand on Jace's thigh, his eyes more than hungrily looking at your lips— Caraxes screech alongside Syrax' wing pattern shook the walls, demanding answers.

Jace had looked nervous for a second, not at all prepared to be facing his mother so soon, his Queen, and his stepfather... whose own daughter he was supposed to marry. Better prepared to face all of them in Kings Landing was his plan.

But you had grasped his hands, had mounted girlish excitement shining in your eyes (an expression so familiar to you to adopt that it so perfectly hides the sharp edges of your excitement; your smugness. It oft reminds you of Aemond)— and Jacaerys had melted.

"My Queen," he reimbursed. You turned as his hands cupped your face. Gentle, possessive in its own way. You sighed, eyes fluttering close with a small, satisfied smile on your lips. "My beautiful queen."

A Maiden in love is not a hard thing to emulate. And he does not make it hard to be.

On some days, you even think it will be easy to actually fall in love with him. You already do so feel his warmth for you permeate your own being. His attention is addicting for one; it is whole and preserving. He makes it known when he is looking at his lady mother, at Baela, his former betrothed (who had given you a meaningful eye when Rhaenyra and Daemon escorted you back to Kings Landing to face the rest of your consequences), and other ladies of the court versus when he is looking at you.

He does not hide his adoration. His so obvious desire.

When you reward him for his loyalty, for private little ticked boxes you keep for him— siding with you in arguments, defending you upon ugly whispers in the Keep, requesting from his mother, a more permanent residence of your own in Dragonstone, in the guise of newly wedded bliss to hide growing your connections far and wide (once Rhaenyra takes the throne, Jacaerys will be named Heir and Prince of Dragonstone; your spiders and people must reach each end of Westeros, and Dragonstone is the perfect central chatter) — you mount him and bask at the lust contorting his features, at his hands gripping your waist in a staccato rhythm of feeling and gasp, each harsh bounce of your hips sending you both to bliss. You feel him inside you so deeply, enjoy his eyes rolling back and exposing his neck for you to sink bruises on.

Most oft, he enjoys mounting you. And you like the alternative of his choice to be buried so deep you feel him in your throat; to hold you down and hold you close, telling you to keep your eyes open for him as you come undone again and again— time and practice can manage his newness to the act. His enthusiasm, both for the act and for you, definitely helps his case, and he is so fond of finding your pleasure, of leading you to the precipe, so addicted to your sounds and writhes.

"There? Is that it, little dragon?" he huffs against your mouth, so attentive as he held your wrist and watch as you gasp, your face twisting as he hits that point inside of you, that sweet, sweet spot of undeniable pleasure buried so deep within— that he laughs. Not meanly, but of pride as he pulls back and hits it again. More insistent. You mewl and scratch his back, your toes curling as you seek the pleasure he so enjoys insisting you into.

"I've found it again, didn't I?" Another snap of his hips, another cry of your lips. "I will fuck your sweetest spot until you- are- crying- my name in that sweet, sweet whine of yours, shall I?"

But it's not really a question privy to an answer, surely not by your own mouth but by your body, as he manhandles you easily and does not stop until you are a quivering, overstimulated mess against wet sheets.

Sometimes, when you can't help but reward him as soon as possible— so excited from his gallant display; the perfect King bowing to his wife — you drag him to shadowy corners and solemnly drop yourself on your knees, unlacing his breeches with deft precision. You place your hot mouth against his manhood, your eyes fluttering delicately, making him reach completion enough times that he is left with a dopey, simpleton of a smile afterward, a soft, chaste kiss against your your head, your nose, your lips. So tender to how he was fucking your mouth not but seconds ago.

"I love you," he whispers against hot skin and cool, salty air.

And it eases, every time he looks at you like that, holds like you that. His love is patient, sweet, kind, and devouring. It overflows and seeps into you that when you whisper back, just as soft, just as troublingly honest, "Avy jorrāelan, ñuha zaldrīzes, I love you, my dragon," the truth of them bleeds further and further into your heart.

Jacaerys.

A warm grief swells within you. Your hands twitch, flattening your grief beneath your chest, deep in your gut. Deep below. You fought hard to be here. You cannot lose him now.

Otto Hightower must die.

A cruel thought, a natural order. With your marriage to Jacaerys meant a relative peace, a truce. Moving to Dragonstone many moons was more than just to establish your position, your future. It was also for your darling sister to take better control of her position back in the centre of power, alongside her husband.

Aged well with a stronger alley who most would not dare defy— a vainglorious guard dog, really, one who isn't afraid to sic people with a mere nod from his master — more than evens out the playing field.

The Queen To Be is prospering. And in her prosper, meant your husband's position more than fulfilled. He was to be King, and with you as his Queen, his reign will want for not.

You should have known it would put Otto on defense, would panic and use your siblings and your poor, nervy mother, to move in unfeasible decisions.

Aegon had taken to calling him grandsire again. Aemond... Your spiders had told you that Lucerys was sent to Storm's End as no more than a casual reminder of Lord Borros' oath. Viserys was in no doubt in worse conditions than he had been the last time you or your husband had visited him. Rhaenyra was settling on her position, reminding the Great Houses which heir was meant to rise soon, so close to the changing of the guard.

And your little brother no doubt was moved in panic.

This was a slip up on your part. Once the King was dead, Otto Hightower would hold no cards; Rhaenyra would never take him as Lord Hand, and his daughter would no longer be a foreground of power. Rhaenyra has her heir. The winning hand is more than ensured on her part.

His only move would be an usurpation, and would ruin your chance at being Queen... it was a good move. Your twin was not made for duty whilst you craved it. He knows you better than you know yourself; you will not be played in his palm. You would be useless to him.

"I should have killed him," you murmur to yourself.

Yna, the last maid in your arsenal, steps forward. She is the youngest of your main three wards, and the newest. She is still learning her letters, but she is young and always eager to serve.

"My lady?"

"I am going to find the prince. Whatever happens, tell them Vermax must not leave with his rider. Make up any excuse you must. My husband must stay in Dragonstone until I say otherwise." You raise your chin, tone icy. "Anyone who dares to defy my orders will be beheaded."

"At once, princess."

Your steps are measured, your breath held between lie and tongue. So many pretty rings on your fingers, twisting and twisting at the idea of the confrontation plagues you.

But you raise your chin. You will not be defeated. All is not lost.

Dyanna had caught you at Aegon's Garden, windblow hair and wide, fearful eyes.

You had braced yourself. "The Prince?"

"The Stone Drum, my princess, he is..."

"Angry," you supplied. She nodded jerkily. "Tell me everything."

"The Prince was talking with Ser Robert, was about the missive sent from Kings Landing says Kevan, not soon after your own." Another spider, one that follows most of your husband's movements. Unassuming and quick on his feet. A good soldier. "Prince Lucerys is alive but badly maimed." The breath you had withheld between grit and fright unrolled, the world slamming back into the ground in a giant's fitful wake. "He still hasn't woken up, says Arrax took most of the damage— one wing torn but is awake. Dunno about recovery for dragons, 'specially against Vhagar. Mournin' the prince, Kevan says. Makin' loud, sad dragon noises."

"But he is alive?" you pressed. Aemond's life hung in its balance. Your sweet, vengeful baby brother who bore his tragedies between muted teeth and rage.

"Yes."

"And Aemond?"

"No word in the missive or between them." It made your throat tight, the convulsion restraining your neck once more.

"It's fine. As long as there no mention of his death. Then that's all I need."

"My lady, there's more. There might be a reason we haven't been getting much word from King's Landing. Or Oldtown. It seems to connect is all."

Your pulse jumped. "Tell me later. I have to see to the prince. No one is allowed in Stone Drum for the time being. Not unless absolutely necessary." You think and you think hard. "Ready to call in a maestre."

Dyanna had looked alarmed when you left her, but you only gave a pensive smile. A soldier's nod.

He is bent over the Painted Table, shoulders so hunched, reminding you of monsters and tall tales. A dragon, really. He may not have Velaryon blood, your husband, but you— nor others — could deny the thrum of fire in his blood. Roiling and boiling, so engulf in his rage, his voice is quiet at the approach of your footsteps.

"You have bound me to Dragonstone," he says calmly with all the quiet rage you can hear in your very soul. It makes you shiver, but you stand resolute.

He is still turned away, away from you, palms flat on the surface. The iron brazier is lit up, and so is the Painted Table itself.

"Can you honestly tell me you won't try and kill my brother if I let you, ñuha valzȳrys my husband?" you say softly. You plead. His refusal to turn to you spikes your madness in corners. The night reaches and you finger your rings as you try not to spill all over the floor; your own madness, your own fears, your quiet, quiet webs. "Aren't you at least satisfied at the thought of your stepfather excelling at planting Dark Sister to his neck? At least cheery at the idea of him suffering inside those dungeons?"

He spins then, rage—white hot and spilling — breathes as he bellows, "He has harmed my brother!"

You calmly met his gaze. "You do not know that for sure."

He laughs without mirth, arms wide and daring. Crazed anger outlandish and wild, while in response you tighten and become small.

But you do not cower. No truth cowers. And you are a princess. A dragon the same as he.

Lest all, he is a mere husband.

"What else could it be? Your brother has called us bastards our entire lives," he spits. "Neither of us are blind to his dark looks. Despite your family's attempted plots, his rage beholds him. His grudge is stronger. He attacked Lucerys, on fucking dragonback— Arrax, a dragon Luke has barely flown against your brother's war dragon — and that makes him a kinslayer."

Your blood leaps, and you cannot control your own fear, your own anger. "Do not throw that word around so carelessly, Jacaerys! My brother has killed no kin!"

"He has tried, " he hisses and it makes your eyes burn because he has never looked at you so before. At his thunderous footsteps to reach you, to aggravate you, you fight the urge to flinch. His anger spills and spoils you. You try not to curdle. You keep yourself braced. Kinslayer is so ugly said aloud. "That is enough of a brand to call him kinslayer."

Your jaw tightens, tears unleashed from your eyes and there's a glimmer there— a spark, of your Jace. Your husband. It is small and short, a comet so faint it is almost nothing, but it is there.

He does not like to see you cry, your Jace. Not if it isn't from pleasure.

You raise your chin. "My brother is no kinslayer. Lucerys is alive. Do not make Aemond what he is not."

He laughs humourlessly against your face, his hand reaching for your jaw, thumb over your chin, but the mock gentleness wounds you worse. "And who has alerted you of the news? Your twin usurper?"

"W-what?" Blood rushes to your head. Something is missing. He knows. He knows about grandsire's plans. Dyanna would have said. Dyanna didn't know. "Aegon is not an usurper," you whisper, faint but firm.

His thumb rubs against your bottom lip, his eyes tracing your face. "Is this the plan all along, then?" he says softly. "While your brother and grandsire plot to usurp the throne from my mother, and your younger brothers raise bannermen from Oldtown to Storm's End, and try to kill my own when they get the chance, I suppose your job is to warm my bed and to ensure I'm out of the fray before you kill me in my—"

His words stutter for you have slapped him. It is not the hardest move on your part, and he stops not from pain but from shock. Tears freely flow down your face now as you push him off you.

"I know nothing of these plots you speak of." That in much is true. These plots are half-assed. Made in panic and fear, and it makes you curse Otto Hightower to the depths of further Hell. "And you may bully me as you wish, husband, but I will not take it as if it does not hurt me. As if- as if I would take pleasure from your death."

He raises his chin, so defiant in his own anger that he clenches his jaw. "Are you telling me you took no part in your grandsire's plans?"

"We have been married for many moons now. I think, out of anyone on this island, amongst our family even, you would know me best. I have only ever truly bloomed in your presence," you say softly. Lies and truths are balanced so precariously; they spin and spin in a tantalising grip that even you don't know where fabrication meets honesty.

If your own lies befuddle you, why not your truths to him?

"If you are doubting me, then you are doubting our marriage, is it not?" You give a mirthless laugh of your own, chin wobbling as you brush your tears away. His eyes track your movements and his brows are furrowed. "Is it ease, that has turned you so from me? Has your doubt been seeded long before you took us to Dragonstone? To affirm your mother that you have wedded me? Yes, Aegon sent me a missive a mere hour ago. He says Aemond had been urged by our grandsire, no doubt played with as he had done so to our mother, as he tries with Aegon. With me."

Jacaerys' eyes darken. Bottomless pits of dark, dark eyes. You've grown to love them you realised.

"I will give you all the violet-eyed heirs you desire," you had purred once in your new marriage bed, having just christened (one to a few times) your new marital chambers in Dragonstone. "But I do so wish I get a babe with your eyes."

"They are hardly exemplary," Jace had said, snorting. His hand rested on your back while you rest on top of him. The air is acrid in sweat and sex, but neither of you mind. "They are not a show of Valyrian blood."

"Who cares?" You reached to dance your finger against his lashes. "A daughter with your eyes... I fear, I would spoil her rotten. She would be an absolute beauty."

"Are you calling me a beauty?" he teased, trying to hide his rosy cheeks.

"Your eyes, yes," you teased back.

"If I was such a pawn to him," you say now. "If I was using you as you so callously accused me of, why would I bother with a marriage with you? You are right, they have accused you of not being a trueborn Velaryon—" He flinches. "—So why would Otto decide marrying you was a good idea at all? Any babes I carry would be questioned, and it would serve no benefit at all if the main plot was Aegon usurping the throne. To keep you entertained? Hardly. It would serve him better, as was his earlier plan, if I had married Aegon myself."

He loses his stance, a grit in his teeth gives you way to a slow curl of possession. A renewed sense of anger. His fists clenched at his sides.

You found a thread. You don't just unspool, you decide, you will yank, and you will yank hard.

"Aegon is a firstborn male heir, even as twins. It made sense to anyone who understood Targaryen customs that marrying us would be the natural order. It did not matter any past transgressions he may have had, I keep him better. I am his tether to this world. It was obvious to anybody with eyes that if we were to marry, we would breed good Valyrian stock, our children—"

But he has lurched forward, grasping your face, seething, angry at an idea, at a diverted road.

"He wanted us to marry," you continue, a snake's hiss that it is. "But your mother sent a missive asking for Helaena's hand, and I had already told her I wanted someone else. I wanted you." You grasp his leather, pulling him to you in equal ferocity. Madness meeting a mirror. "From the very start, grandsire could not control me for my blood sung for you. I had done my very best to free my siblings from him, resigned myself to be their forever protector inside that Keep with no real power of my own, but when the Gods gave me the chance to have you, I had been selfish. I abandoned them for you. Because I wanted to be yours for a night, I was willing to have that, if it is the only moment you will grant me."

You are crying again, and lies are spinning with their truths, golden and bloodstained, but you are cracking him.

"But it was you, Jacaerys Velaryon, who had asked for my hand. You wanted to marry, whisk us away to Dragonstone, and I love you too much to blind myself to the idea of becoming your wife would not be a totally selfish act, for what act of ours would be considered selfish if it was borne out of love?" you sob hard, grasping and reaching against him, trying to shake and ruin him. "I thought you loved me, and yet here you are, accusing me of plotting? What? Usurping your mother? Killing you in your godsdamned sleep?"

"Wife, I—"

"No. I am sorry for what happened to Lucerys. But if it is vengeance that is truly what you seek, and in the morrow my brother," my choke out. "My brother would be announced d-dead, I would rather you kill me now for it seems I have not only failed them from my grandsire's clutches, I have also failed at being your wife."

Your hands reach in and pull his dagger out, and he is instinctive, a true swordsman, holding onto the dagger before your own. But you do not give up. You yank him forward so suddenly, the dagger now positioned over your heart.

You keep him there, defiant as you are. As no true dragon is afraid of metal. Metal melt in the face of dragonfire.

The tip of his dagger deepens against your skin as war rages in his own mind. Truths and lies spinning and spinning in his head, but your thread— your thread is Hightower green clung in blood and gold — and it's the brightest, twisting beneath his lids and rage. Rage and grief, the tethering madness is spilling, trying to break into the dragon's clutches—

But your Jace is strong. He holds it at bay with a fury.

It is love, it is love, it is love.

But you are not sure. And you have to be.

You have been betrayed already, your Jace cannot betray you. If you are to have a future with him as King, there must be no doubts.

You step forward, letting the blade sink against your skin. It draws blood. A few beads bloom and slide. Thick red in a string or two. It makes his jaw tighten, and you feel, almost impercibly, the strain in his hand give.

That flash of panic, panic bathed in love, in adoration, is all you need.

You grasp his hands in yours, blade nestled between two grips now, and he gasps, thinking you were going to push him away finally, but no. You hold on tight to his hands, nails digging into his skin, keeping the blade where it is before you push forward once more. The tip sinks into your flesh, blood gushes as pain explodes.

"What are you doing!? Let go!" he roars, but you stare at his eyes, brown, so pretty, framed in featherlight lashes, did he even know there are violet flecks in his eyes?

You will not harm me, you think. You realise. For you have given yourself to me body and soul. Even the Gods know.

"Will you forsake me, husband?" your voice is no higher than a whisper, than a wind's hum. It is hollow and cracking. A siren song. In the silence, it is a whip cracking against petty flesh. Against a beating heart thrumming for you. "And the babe I carry?"

Before the words register in his brain, you yank his hands again with every strength you can muster, the dagger, to hover over your stomach. Your Jace roars, pulling with his entire strength as complete fear in floods his beautiful, brown eyes. The strength propels your force of gravity, and you fall with a hard thud. The dagger is flung in the second as he reaches for you, cold-curdled terror ruining his face as he tries to make sense of where to touch you.

The fall is hard enough that you wince. And your instincts, new as it is, is to curl your hands protectively over your stomach.

"M-my heart? Does it hurt? I-I am so sorry, I-A MAESTRE, CALL A MAESTRE FOR THE PRINCESS NOW!"

Your child is strong, you have always known that in your heart.

The second you held suspicion, pressing against the tender flesh of your breast to the nausea that kicked in out of nowhere, before Maestre Gerardys had confirmed: you are with child. Your firstborn. The heir of heirs. You could not wait to meet him.

"I hope it is a boy," you murmur weakly into the darkened space of your chambers. You don't turn as Jacaerys' head snaps, his hands over your own, sat on a chair by your bedside. Relief, guilt, fear breaks and crashes in waves against him, trying to nudge you, but you don't look. You stare from your position on the bed; forward and into nothingness.

"My love," he breathes, hands against your own warm and tight. "I am so, so sorry. I shall call for a maestre—"

"No need." Your other hand moves to your stomach. An emotion glimmers in his gaze at the movement. "My babe is strong. Blood of the dragon that he is. I know him already in my blood. Call for my maid instead. Any of them. Tell them to move my things to a different room, perhaps the one above Aegon's Garden. By morn, I will fly to Kings Landing to be with my family."

Panic fills and breaks. His hold tightens. "I-If that is what you wish, we can go as soon as Maestre Gerardys says it is alright for you and the—"

You turn to him, finally, your eyes dead of emotion. "I will go for I do not think you would like your would-be murderer to sleep beside you, haunting you with a dagger. This way, I can take advice from my mother about births and the like, and you can sleep comfortably. Do not worry, I will not poison you to your child's mind. You may visit him as you would like. You might even take comfort in knowing your mother would look for him as if he were hers. She is so very motherly, I'm sure she would enjoy a grand..."

Your words drift off as he had fallen to his knees, tears soaking your hand as he presses it to his face. You feel like the Mother, looking down on a penitent. Or the Father. Or the Stranger. You feel complete, as his apologies fall in graceless, shaky exhales and sobs. The axe is in your hand. His neck is exposed.

"—I will do anything, a-anything for your f-forgiveness. Y-You can move rooms if it comforts you, I will not s-shadow your doorway, but please. Please. Do not leave me. Anything. I will do anything."

You, and you alone, is the owner of his absolution.

You smile, despite yourself.

Maybe you should reward your grandsire after all.

TAGGED (bold means I couldn't tag you: @inkareds @marihoneywk @caterina-caterina @ahristata

#jacaerys velaryon fanfiction #jacaerys angst #hotd angst #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jace velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon angst #jacaerys smut #hotd smut #manipulative reader #elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒

1K notes · View notes

asongoficeandfiresource · 4 months

Text

Meta: A Tale of Three Daenerys’

An element of authenticity George R. R. Martin adds to the ASOIAF universe is the repetition of names. The same names appear repeatedly within specific cultures and the spread and popularity of certain names is used to illustrate how one culture has influenced another. Just look at the wide popularity of Targaryen names throughout Westeros, especially Alysanne.

With Daenerys Targaryen, GRRM has created two other characters with her name, so far: Daenerys, daughter of Aegon IV and Naerys, and Daenerys, daughter of Alysanne and Jaehaerys I. Both of these characters seem to be used to lay the groundwork for elements of the canon era Daenerys’ story and character arc.

Daenerys, the Retconned Princess

In The World of Ice and Fire, Jaehaerys I and Alysanne do not have a daughter named Daenerys. In fact, in the main series, Daenerys of Dorne is referred to as the first. But with the release of Fire and Blood Vol 1, Martin restructured the birth order of Jaehaerys and Alysanne’s children, which included not just reshuffling, but also removing and adding children. One of those additions was Princess Daenerys, who took the place of Alyssa as the second born child and oldest daughter of the family.

So the question is, why did Martin retcon TWOIAF just to add a new Daenerys? Part of the reason is likely to flesh out the reign of Jaehaerys and Alysanne with more information and loss. But why name her Daenerys and not Rhaenys after their grandmother or any other name? There is a wealth of Targaryen names Martin could have given this new child, but he chose Daenerys, the name of one of his main five characters in the core series. He likely made that choice to give additional foreshadowing for the canon era character.

At first glance, the two Daenerys’ don’t have much in common with Jaehaerys and Alysanne’s daughter being born into a stable family and kingdom as their oldest living child who grew into a confident girl but died young, while our Dany was born an orphan and an exile, and grew up constantly afraid, gaining confidence and strength in her teens. In that way, they are narrative foils. But where the foreshadowing comes in is with how Alysanne views her daughter.

Based on a combination of moments in Fire and Blood, there is a possibility that Alysanne had the gift of foresight, like other Targaryens in the series. For some unexplained reason, Alysanne is very insistent on Daenerys becoming queen after her father. This is strange because equal primogeniture is not the norm in their culture. Visenya did not become queen regnant, her younger brother Aegon became king. Rhaena did not become queen regnant, her two younger brothers and uncle became kings, though Aegon the Uncrowned was only a claimant. What’s more, Alysanne never pushes for Rhaena’s rights over Jaehaerys’. But she does push for Daenerys’ rights over her son’s. Why? Because she knows Daenerys will be a great queen:

[Princess Daenerys] so enchanted Alysanne that for a time Her Grace even began to eschew council sessions, preferring to spend her days playing with her daughter and reading her the stories that her own mother had once read to her. “She is so clever, she will be reading to me before long,” she told the king. “She is going to be a great queen, I know it.” – Fire and Blood

This is a rare issue where Alysanne is certain about something, but turns out to be wrong, since her daughter dies before having the opportunity to become queen regnant. It is very possible that Alysanne’s certainty over her daughter’s future and Martin’s purpose for retconning this child into existence was to foreshadow Dany’s eventual position as Queen of Westeros. Often with prophetic visions, they can be misunderstood by the person experiencing them as seen with Daeron the Drunken and Daemon II Blackfyre in the Dunk and Egg novellas. While both of their dreams came true, they happened very differently than what they initially believed. So the great queen named Daenerys who Alysanne might have seen wasn’t her daughter but her distant descendant.

Daenerys of Dorne

The Princess Daenerys who married Maron Martell was initially mentioned in passing in a Dunk and Egg novella, The Sworn Sword, but wasn’t named in the text until A Dance With Dragons where her connection to both the series era Dany and Martell family was emphasized. She is cited by Davos as the person Dany was named after and is the source of the Targaryen blood that gives Quentyn the belief that he can tame one of the dragons. She is also the reason the Water Gardens were built and through that palace was able to impact every generation of Dornish children after her.

Unlike the previous Daenerys, there are quite a few parallels between Daenerys of Dorne and the canon era Dany. They were both the products of extremely unhappy and abusive marriages. They each had significant age gaps between them and their siblings, with their older brother having reached adulthood and had a child or children of his own by the time of their birth. Their brothers married them to men outside of their culture. While Dany was exchanged for the promise of an army to take back Westeros, Princess Daenerys’s marriage was part of a treaty that united Dorne with the rest of Westeros. Both women marry for duty despite loving other men. Each of them are particularly protective and caring toward children. They also look beyond the social status of individuals and see that everyone is equally worthy of protection and a quality life.

While Dany pushes for freedom and justice in Slaver’s Bay, Princess Daenerys used her position in Dorne to benefit children regardless of class:

“Beautiful and peaceful,” the prince said. “Cool breezes, sparkling water, and the laughter of children. The Water Gardens are my favorite place in this world, ser. One of my ancestors had them built to please his Targaryen bride and free her from the dust and heat of Sunspear. Daenerys was her name. She was sister to King Daeron the Good, and it was her marriage that made Dorne part of the Seven Kingdoms. The whole realm knew that the girl loved Daeron’s bastard brother Daemon Blackfyre, and was loved by him in turn, but the king was wise enough to see that the good of thousands must come before the desires of two, even if those two were dear to him. It was Daenerys who filled the gardens with laughing children. Her own children at the start, but later the sons and daughters of lords and landed knights were brought in to be companions to the boys and girls of princely blood. And one summer’s day when it was scorching hot, she took pity on the children of her grooms and cooks and serving men and invited them to use the pools and fountains too, a tradition that has endured till this day."

——

"I told the story to Ser Balon, but not all of it. As the children splashed in the pools, Daenerys watched from amongst the orange trees, and a realization came to her. She could not tell the highborn from the low. Naked, they were only children. All innocent, all vulnerable, all deserving of long life, love, protection. ‘There is your realm,’ she told her son and heir, 'remember them, in everything you do.’ My own mother said those same words to me when I was old enough to leave the pools. It is an easy thing for a prince to call the spears, but in the end the children pay the price. For their sake, the wise prince will wage no war without good cause, nor any war he cannot hope to win.– ADWD

It might seem like a simple thing to allow a large amount of commoner children to partake in privileges alongside highborn and royal children, but this is hugely significant since it allows children of higher stations to form positive relationships with children of lower classes. The rest of Westeros does this at a far smaller degree, but usually at the convenience of the highborn. This act essentially put all of the children who stay at the Water Gardens on equal footing, even temporarily so they can all see that at their core, they are all made the same. This allows the royalty and nobility to empathize with commoners which will impact the choices that will impact everyone. Princess Daenerys’ impact on the ruling family kept Dorne mostly out of the War of the Five Kings, meaning that while the common people of nearly every region have been slaughtered and abused in the conflict, only one Dornishman has died so far, Oberyn Martell, a prince in full control of his actions rather than thousands of commoners ordered onto the battlefield.

Even though Dany is still a queen at war in the series, there are similarities between her motivation and choices. As noted above, both Daenerys’ have a weakness for children. Princess Daenerys fills the Water Gardens with “laughing children”. Dany wishes to do the same:

I want to make my kingdom beautiful, to fill it with fat men and pretty maids and laughing children. – ACOK

But more than that dream, when it comes to children Dany shows she is willing to take direct action to protect and avenge them. When the slavers of Meereen murder slave children and taunt Dany by mounting their bodies on milepost, Dany made sure to see them herself: "I will see every one, and count them, and look upon their faces. And I will remember.” (ASOS) Then she avenged them by killing the exact number of slavers in the same way the children were killed. Even when she doubts whether she did the right thing, she insists it was done for the children. Then, when Drogon kills a child, Hazzea, Dany tries to chain all of her dragons so that never happens again, though she only manages to capture two of the three. Despite the fact that she considers the dragons to be her own children, it only takes the death of one child to push her to imprison them, showing just how much she prioritizes the lives of these people. Even when it comes to the children of the slavers, Dany refuses to harm them regardless of what crimes the adult slaver commit:

Dany had grown fond of her young charges. Some were shy and some were bold, some sweet and some sullen, but all were innocent. – ADWD

Where the strongest parallel comes into play is with the way both Daenerys’ realize that there is no fundamental difference between people of different social classes since they are the same when brought down to their bare essentials:

On another island two lovers kissed in the shade of tall green trees, with no more shame than Dothraki at a wedding. Without clothing, [Dany] could not tell if they were slave or free. – ASOS

As the children splashed in the pools, Daenerys watched from amongst the orange trees, and a realization came to her. She could not tell the highborn from the low. Naked, they were only children. All innocent, all vulnerable, all deserving of long life, love, protection. – ADWD

The only thing that separates the highborn from the low or the free and the enslaved are societal restrictions. Since there are no natural physical differences between people of different ranks in society, that means they are all deserving of freedom and good lives. While Princess Daenerys acted upon this realization to effect change through the inclusion of all children from different walks of life into the Water Gardens, Dany fights for the freedom of slaves and allows freedmen places of power in her government and gives them a voice at court alongside people who were born free. Here are just a few of the many examples of Dany attempting to establish equality for the freedmen:

Reznak would have summoned another tokar next, but Dany insisted that he call upon a freedman. Thereafter she alternated between the former masters and the former slaves. – ADWD

Rylona Rhee had played the harp as sweetly as the Maiden. When she had been a slave in Yunkai, she had played for every highborn family in the city. In Meereen she had become a leader amongst the Yunkish freedmen, their voice in Dany’s councils. – ADWD

“The freedmen work too cheaply, Magnificence,” Reznak said. “Some call themselves journeymen, or even masters, titles that belong by rights only to the craftsmen of the guilds. The masons and the bricklayers do respectfully petition Your Worship to uphold their ancient rights and customs.”

“The freedmen work cheaply because they are hungry,” Dany pointed out. “If I forbid them to carve stone or lay bricks, the chandlers, the weavers, and the goldsmiths will soon be at my gates asking that they be excluded from those trades as well.” She considered a moment. “Let it be written that henceforth only guild members shall be permitted to name themselves journeymen or masters … provided the guilds open their rolls to any freedman who can demonstrate the requisite skills.” – ADWD

Princess Daenerys also helped to cement a permanent peace between House Targaryen and House Martell with her marriage uniting Westeros. That combined with the tradition of creating a closer bond between people of different classes and the continued caution on thinking of the people while making decisions that will affect them, she continues her legacy of peace. Our Dany also keeps the people who choose to follow her at the forefront of her thoughts with every decision she makes. She too wishes for peace and takes action to achieve that, even at her own detriment.

“Peace is my desire. You say that you can help me end the nightly slaughter in my streets. I say do it. Put an end to this shadow war, my lord. That is your quest. Give me ninety days and ninety nights without a murder, and I will know that you are worthy of a throne. Can you do that?” - Daenerys IV ADWD

She thought of Doreah, of Quaro, of Eroeh … of a little girl she had never met, whose name had been Hazzea. Better a few should die in the pit than thousands at the gates. This is the price of peace, I pay it willingly. If I look back, I am lost. - Daenerys VIII ADWD

Like all good queens she put her people first—else she would never have wed Hizdahr zo Loraq—but the girl in her still yearned for poetry, passion, and laughter. – ADWD

Conclusion

While the three Daenerys’ don’t have anything close to similar lives, each of the Daenerys’ of the past seem to intentionally have call backs or call forwards to the series era Dany. Both of them seem to foreshadow Dany’s current and future storylines with pushes for social progress and her future as the reigning Queen of Westeros. So far, Martin has included only three characters with this name, but with the positive change Dany is bringing to Essos and will bring to Westeros when she helps save the world from the Others, it would only be natural for the name to grow in popularity.

#daenerys targaryen #daenerys targaryen (daughter of jaehaerys)#daenerys targaryen (daughter of aegon iv)#canondany #gotdaenerystargaryen #targnation #targaryensource #asoiaf #asoiafedit #gotedit #hotdedit #gameofthronesdaily #iheargot #usergif #litedit #tvgifs #dailyflicks #house targaryen

345 notes · View notes

1whore1gang · 3 months

Text

Ghost Drabble

“I thought you were dead.”

Hey friends!! Ghost won the pill so here’s a short and shitty little drabble for y’all.

It’s not super inappropriate, lots of grief, mentions of losing a child, lots of foul language.

Love you guys!!! Enjoy and PLEASE lmk what you wanna see! You guys are the readers after all so i wanna cater to YOUR ideas!! 🫶🏻

“No. I-“ She took a deep breath as she focused on her word choice. “Why, no- how are you here? I don’t get it.”

“Please, just let me explain.” Simon tried to reason with her as his heart beat out of his chest. “Please you have got to hear me out.”

“I’m listening but you better talk fast.” Her tone was a mixture of fear and command.

“It’s not what you think. When I joined this team, I wanted a new identity. I didn’t want to be who I used to be, the one who was tortured, the one who went through all that loss and pain. It’s not like I had anything left in my life anyways-“ Before he could finish with ‘but you’, she cut him off.

“You didn’t have anything?! Simon-“

“It’s Ghost here, they don’t want anyone leaking my identity.” He quickly corrected her and she looked at him offended, tears turning her eyes glossy. She paused for a moment her mouth agape.

“First of all, it’s not ‘ghost’.” Her words were mocking the name. “It’s Simon, because that’s who you were to me. You were Simon Riley, my Simon.” She accentuated her words. “Do you not understand what you meant to me? What weight you held in my life?” She paused, almost waiting for an answer, but he didn’t even open his mouth. “Second of all, you had me. You had our life. You had our daughter.”

Her statement bit him. It felt like a knife had went through him. “And when I was grieving her death you know what else I was doing?!” Her tone escalated to one of anger. “I was mourning you!!!”

Her face was now etched into his mind forever, sure to haunt his dreams from now on. Tears were streaming in rivers down her face, staining the collar of her shirt. Her eyebrows were furrowed in sorrow, her lip quivering. “I’m so sorry.”

That’s all he could muster. He knew no excuse would suffice for what he left her to endure alone. “Where were you?” She asked in a pleading voice, needing answers.

“They wouldn’t let me see you. Said it was for my privacy and identity security.” Simons voice began to crack, and she began to soften, it was something she’d never seen. “I wanted to run to you, hold you in my arms, apologize for leaving you the way I did. It tore me to shreds knowing you were battling it alone, and it haunted me knowing what I did.”

Simon took in a shaky breath as tears of his own formed. “I dreamed of coming home to you, comforting you. They wouldn’t fucking let me.” His voice went quiet as he cursed his superiors. “If I wouldn’t have been faced with serious consequences, I would’ve broke every rule, but the consequences would’ve set us further apart.”

She stood speechless. She was so lost in this moment, not knowing how to go about Simon this way. From childhood to now, this is the first time she’d ever seen him cry. “Simon…”

“It was my plan to eventually have you find me, I just didn’t think it’d take this long.”

Again, she stood evaluating every movement of his face, the expressions, the way his eyebrows twitched when she met his eyes. She couldn’t deny the pang in her chest, the one of pain. “I know I don’t deserve it, but would you ever grace me with your forgiveness?”

He waited in silence, his nerves tingling with each passing moment. Simon carefully watched as she opened her mouth before hesitating and closing it again. “Simon, it’s been almost 10 years since you faked your death and I got that dreaded phone call. I was only 20 years old with a 2 year old all alone. You should’ve known at the age of 25, that I was too young. I was still a kid myself in ways. You left me to raise a kid when I was barely an adult, the pain I went through at such a young age because I let my childhood best friend give me his last name.”

Simon nodded, agreeing what he did was wrong. “But, when she passed, I felt like I had aged 10 years because I had to mature fast to be a mom raising her child by herself. She was only 4 Si, and she never even got to see her dad, let alone know him. But, in the end, I know what this job can do.”

Her chest raises as she takes in a deep breath. “I know what they can ask of you and how easily it is for the wrong person to know your face, your name. I don’t forgive you right now, but I’m willing to work on it on one condition.”

Simon answered almost too quickly, “Anything.”

#captain price x reader #modern warefare 2 x reader #simon ghost riley #soap mactavish smut #soap mactavish x reader #tf141 x reader #cod mw2 #johnny mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick

97 notes · View notes

ask-serendipity-sky · 8 months

Text

Statements

Jimin doesn't say much at times. But when it comes to Jk, he has things to say.

Statements.

If someone doesn't see it and at least questions it, then there is something terribly wrong with their ability to perceive issues and connect that dots that have been already been connected with a light pencil.

Even with an objective lens, there is something there. There is something between Jimin and Jungkook that doesn't follow the normal patterns of friendship. I've been saying this for ages.

It's not just words and pictures that Jimin is giving us. He no longer hints. He gives us statements.

Of who he is and who he loves.

He's been doing this for years. Subtle but he is getting louder.

What a reveal. I think no one was expecting this now and not from Jimin.

Even weverse had some sort of malfunction when Jimin was bold enough to claim Jungkook's body.

When people thought Jimin and Jk weren't even close, he goes to NYC and spends the weekend with Jk, accompanying him for his debut and spending Silver Day together. Then he comes back and congratulates him for the bb results. On instagram.

"Jungkookie is sleeping." The way he answered fast and graceful. There was no room for thirsties to be Jimin's sister-in-law. Because Jk was sleeping....in their bed, in their shared home because Jk was there and Jungkook is his boyfriend.

Baby, don't leave Just stay next to me To you, who saw me who was tiny as (someone) big So that I can give back as much as I've received So that I can keep the words I said

The statement. In an album about his personal journey. There was only one other voice included there and that was Jungkook's.

How I see things: Jimin went through this phase in his life where the only person who could save him was himself. Just like the only person who could set him free was himself, words said by Jimin. But in the midst of all, Jk was there for him. Of course. Hidden, like the track itself.

So by allowing Jk to be in Letter, Jimin is telling us that Jk was next to him as Jimin lived his own journey.

Jk wasn't going to be getting any more marriage proposals after this.

Not after publicly thirst trapping Jimin. Jimin is not a fool so he has some claiming to do.

A very clear statement. Jimin and Jk in his background for a White Day photo post.

But notice how in the past, Jimin was more subtle? We see a bit of Nam and Jk. Compare that to Jimin today and his postings and mentions about Jk. I see a difference.

Remember Set Me Free pt.2?

Finally free.

youtube

His name isn't "jm" and, of course haters were celebrating this moment because it debunked the tattoo theory (I have a post about this coming).

But then Jimin opens his instagram account and becomes "j.m". The one name that haunts the haters forever. Claiming his initials (and Jk's 👀) in Jk's hand.

One of my favorite moments and it fits today's occasion. It wasn't 2 normal bros hanging out late at night. It was Jungkook's birthday and they were together. Just them. And they fell asleep in bed crying to the bb100 news.

It seems to me like Jimin wasn't supposed to spill this. He didn't the first time for the bb100 live. But the next time he had a chance, he went for it and Jk smiled wide as Jimin retold the story of how they spent that time together.

He was with Jungkook then.

He is with Jungkook now.

That is the statement.

#jikook #jikook posts #post 2020 statements

224 notes · View notes

l3r40l · 1 year

Photo

In line for a gifts

#r6s #r6s dokkaebi #dokkaebi #grace nam #rainbow 6 siege #rainbow six siege

49 notes · View notes

unis-trash-stash · 2 years

Text

I hadn’t drawn the Mall Rats in ages so here they are

#uni art #r6s blitz #elias kötz #elias kotz #r6s sledge #seamus cowden #r6s dokkaebi #grace nam #r6s #rainbow six siege #rainbow 6 siege #r6 #mall rats

35 notes · View notes

ajaxf50 · 1 year

Text

Well, guess I was entering wrong verse 🥲

12 notes · View notes

book-place · 11 months

Text

Deja Vu

Warnings: none (I think), let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Diego Hargreeves x daughter reader

Request: idk where to request for them but it would be sooo cool if you did diego hargreeves x platonic reader where the reader is a teenager and has a stuttering problem and it starts off angsty then diego comforts them and ends w like fluff?? i’ve never requested anything before😭

Request by: @ominaisugly

*not my gif*

Summary: Diego helps you with something he had to go through once too

A/N: Sorry this is so short!!

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

“H-hello,” You tried saying, staring at yourself intensely in the mirror, “M-my n-n-name is… is…” You paused, breath picking up slightly, “I-is Y/n, an-and t-today-“ You cut yourself off, unable to go on anymore.

You let out a loud groan of frustration, pushing the heels of your hands into your eyes to try and keep the tears that threatened to show themselves at bay.

After a moment, you sniffed and dropped your hands, trying again, “He-Hello, m-my nam-name i-i-is-“ You cut yourself off with a small yell of frustration, glaring harshly at your reflection through blurry vision.

Diego was walking by your room on the way towards the kitchen when he paused in his step, hearing your voice.

“H-hello, m-my n-n-name-“

He peered through the slightly open door in curiosity and his heart seemed to freeze as his breath hitched.

You were standing in front of your mirror, a look of determination slowly slipping off your face into one of despair as you tried to speak, and a sense of deja vu hit him like a speed train.

“Y/n?” Your father called out hesitantly after a moment, making you whip around to face him, “What’s wrong?”

“T-this st-stupid speech f-for c-class!” You sobbed out in between hiccups, “I-I can’t do it w-with th-this s-st-stupid s-stutter!”

Young Diego, standing in front of his own mirror in his own room, unable to speak the sentences he so desperately wanted to because of his stuttering tongue.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He moved to stand right behind you, placing a hand gently on your shoulder and rubbing it comfortingly, “It’s okay, I understand. I used to have a stutter too.” Diego admitted.

You sniffed, craning your neck to face him, “R-really?” You asked sadly.

His mother, Grace, entering his room and comforting him.

He sighed slightly, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on the crown of your head, “Yeah, I couldn’t master it.”

“Wh-what did y-you do about it-t?” You looked up at him with those wide, doe eyes of yours.

“Picture the words you want to say in your mind, Diego.” Her soft voice floated through his ears, “I believe in you.”

“Here,” He gently turned you so that you were facing the mirror again, “Try picturing the words in your mind before you say them. It helps, I promise.”

You took a deep breath before you shakily moved your eyes to meet your own in your reflection once more and were silent for a moment before you spoke, carefully thinking over each word, “Hello… my… my name is… my name is Y/n. Hello, my name is Y/n.”

Your eyes lit up immediately following your success. One that seemed so small, but meant so, so much to you.

Grace cheering him on when he was finally able to do it.

“You did it!” Your father cheered, wrapping his arms around you tightly as you began jumping up and down excitedly.

“I did it!” You echoed back, still managing to be void of your normal stutter.

“I’m so proud of you,” Diego breathed out. And he meant it, pride swirled in his chest in a way that made him feel so good inside.

“Thank you, dad.” You rested your head on his chest for a moment before turning yourself back to the mirror and continuing your speech, Diego there to coach and encourage you the whole way through.

The Hargreeves 🦹- @lovanitu @your-local-questioning-agender @jvdethirlwall @ineedmorefanfics2 @sambucky8 @spidyyparker @mukbee @i-writes-things @wolfmoonmusic

#platonic #platonic imagine #x reader #tua x reader #the umbrealla academy #tua #the umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy x reader #diego hargreeves x reader platonic #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves x daughter reader

319 notes · View notes

thepersonnamedsam · 1 year

Text

Dinner for two

Picture not mine (Pinterest)

Pairing: Tim Bradford x GN!Reader

Summary: Tim had a lot on his mind when he responded to a call that day. What he hadn’t have in mind, that he was taking out the victim to dinner.

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: none, fluff, season 4 spoilers

Note: This is my second story on Tumblr and my first The Rookie story. I hope it’s bearable to read. Feedback is very welcomed!

masterlist / taglist

Tim’s first week as Sargent wasn’t as he expected. Sargent Grey has been observing his every move and he felt like a rookie all over again. Not to mention all the kids boots he is keep finding in his locker. Tim was exhausted. And now that the department hired Aaron Thorsen, the alleged killer of Patrick Hayes, his brain seemed to explode.

That’s why he didn’t see the sniper shooting coming and how the bullet graced the shoulder of a civilian, you. Tim instantly felt bad and rushed to your aid. His hands tried to stop the bleeding, but nothing seemed to help. How didn’t he see it coming? His brain went into survival mode, one of the first times not for his survival.

You were conscious and breathing, a relief for Tim, but for you it meant pain. Pain you never imagined feeling. And the stressed look of the officer above you didn’t seas your own stress. You tried to take your mind off the pain and your eyes wandered. The nametag of the helping officer read ‘Bradford’. His badge had ‘Sargent’ and ‘3483’ engraved. So, the helping officer wasn’t just an officer, he was the Sargent.

Tim saw your eyes on his badge and name tag, and he realized that he hasn’t introduced himself or asked for your name. “Ma’am, my name is Tim Bradford, you were injured, can you tell me your name?”

His words didn’t seem to arrive to you. You saw his mouth moving, but nothing came out of it.

“Ma’am? Do you understand me?” – “I can’t hear you”, you slurred. Tim’s eyes narrowed and for a split second put more pressure on the wound – you instantly moaned. Why wasn’t the ambulance on the scene yet?

“Control, where is the requested Ambulance? I have a gunshot wound to the shoulder, who won’t stop bleeding. Victim also doesn’t seem to hear clearly. I need backup, now!”

Just as he wanted to yell into the walkie-talkie again, the ambulance arrived on the scene. They rushed to you and provisionally wrapped your shoulder with a pressure gauze. They lifted you onto the stretcher, faces after faces appeared over your own and tried to talk to you, but nothing came through to you. Just as you thought you were alone, the pretty face of the Sargent appeared in front of you. Your heart started to race as his hand engulfed yours. His face softened as he spoke to you again. Broken word pieces came through to you and the bits you caught didn’t stop your heart racing.

“You’re going to make it through, no doubt. I believe in you!”

Even when you were rolled into the hospital, Sargent Bradford didn’t let go of your hand. Only when you were rolled into surgery, you missed the warmth of his hand. And when you woke up, you didn’t think you would feel the warmth again, but you did.

“Good morning, I know you don’t know me, but I couldn’t just let you alone, after all it’s my fault you got shot.”

“Wait, what? How can you be at fault for me being shot at?”

“I wasn’t in the right mindset and didn’t see it coming, I’m sorry. It shouldn’t happen, it’s all my fault.”

“Did you pull the trigger?” Your eyebrow raised your eyes bored into his.

“No?” He looked away ashamed.

“See, then you’re not at fault, everyone has a bad day, it happens.” Your voiced softened, you really didn’t think he was at fault.

“But my bad days shouldn’t affect an innocent civilian’s life.”

“I survived and I can walk away with a broken shoulder, but nothing worse happened.”

You didn’t want him to feel bad, about anything. Not just about the shooting. You wanted to hug him and hold him in your arms and tell him everything will be fine. But you couldn’t, you didn’t even know his name.

“Let’s start over. I still don’t know your name?”, you asked him.

You saw his face, it softened a bit, relieved you weren’t mad at him. “Tim Bradford.”

“Hey Tim, what’s flooding your brain today?” Your psychology degree came to use after all.

After about three hours, the Doctor came and released you. And Tim couldn’t just let you go. Good for him, you weren’t ready for that either. So, when he wanted to say goodbye, you asked him, if he could drive you home. He immediately agreed and led you to his car.

“You know, as a cop I have to remind you, not to get into a stranger’s car.”

“I’ve known you for a couple of hours, so you’re not a stranger anymore”, you smiled at him. “But you are true, even if you are a Sargent, we may want to start our first date not at my house.”

“But you’re injured!” – “True, but still”, you looked at him and had a mischievous smile on your face. “Ah, you’re trying to trick me”, his head dropped in disbelief and a small smile appeared on his face. “So, take-out at yours?”, he asked, and you immediately agreed.

You ordered Chinese, your favorite, and talked about everything. About his start as a Sargent, your job as a therapist. Your family, his family, especially his dad. It felt like you had known each other since forever. Talking to him was just so easy. Nothing felt out of place or wrong. Honestly, it felt like a dream.

So, when you woke the next morning, you weren’t actually sure, if Sargent Bradford even existed. Your pain in your shoulder distracted you from his absence, but your mind still wondered if it was all a dream. What you didn’t expect, was a cup of coffee and your painkillers waiting in your kitchen. Next to it was a note with his number on it. With a smile on your face, you saved the number on your phone with “SGT. Heartthrob <3”.

SGT. Heartthrob <3

You left early, xx

I know and I’m sorry

I had to leave for roll-call

It’s okay, you made coffee

I did, was it good?

It was perfect, thank you

You smiled and you couldn’t stop the whole day. But your day was boring, you were never off work, you always had something to do, even on your free days. So, this was your first time, since you started the job, that you had nothing to do. To say, you were surprised when Tim showed up at your house, was an understatement. He was smiling and held up a bag of takeout in his hand. “I thought, you weren’t up for cooking, so I brought takeout.”

And you had dinner again, for the second time that week. And it felt exactly the same as last night. With the exception, that Tim stayed in the morning and brought you your coffee and painkillers himself. Breakfast in bed.

#tim bradford #the rookie #the rookie x reader #the rookie x you #gender neutral reader #x reader #season 4 #john nolan #fanfic #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x you #tim bradford x gn!reader

825 notes · View notes

bts-trans · 3 months

Text

230310 Big Hit's Tweet

[네이버 포스트] 슈가에게 취하는 타임,, 오늘은 화보천재 민윤기에게 취한ㄷr,,, (@ https://naver.me/I5cnoxSW) #BTS #방탄소년단 #SUGA #슈가 #민윤기

[Naver Post] Time to get drunk on SUGA,, Getting drunk on photobook-genius Min Yoongi,,,

Naver Post Translation

Keep reading for a plain text version of the blog post! For a picture edit version, please check out our twitter post or the HD version on our website!

[BTS] Me, Myself, and SUGA 비하인드 포스트

[BTS] Me, Myself, and SUGA Behind-the-Scenes Post

아-하!

Hi-A!

(T/N: Stands for ‘Hi ARMY’, which is how Bangbell always starts these posts.)

아미들 안녕하세요! 방림이 입니다. 요즘 아침에는 춥고,, 낮에는 덥고,, 밤에는 다시 춥고,, 옷을 어떻게 입으라는 건지,,~ 차암나,,,

Hello ARMYs! It’s Bangbell. These days it’s very cold in the mornings,, hot during the day,, then cold again at night,, What clothes am I even supposed to wear,,~ Sigh,,,

(대충 아미들은 머릿속으로 떠오르는 계절감 모르겠는 유닛 라이브 짤)

(Most ARMYs are probably thinking of that clip from the unit live where you couldn’t tell what season it was)*

(T/N: A reference to Jin’s birthday live on December 4, 2018, when he, Jimin, and RM were all wearing such different styles of clothes that fans joked they couldn’t even tell what season it was based on how they were dressed.)

저는 오늘 진 처럼 맨투맨을 입었는데 딱이더라고요,, 아미들은 진? 지민? RM? 누구처럼 입었나요,,, (아니 이게 주제가 아닌데)

Today I’m wearing a crewneck just like Jin and I think that’s just right,, ARMYs who are you more dressed like? Jin? Jimin? RM?,,, (No wait this isn’t the main topic)

아무튼 방림이가 아미들에게 금요일,,! 곧 다가오는 주말을 위해 조금만 더 힘을 내라고 포스트를 들고 찾아왔읍니다,, (찡긋)

Anyways Bangbell has brought ARMYs this Friday,,! a post telling you to keep going for the sake of the fast-approaching weekend,, (wink)

Special 8 Photo-Folio의 마. 지. 막. 을 장식할 주인공이죠! Me, Myself, and SUGA ‘Wholly or Whole me’ 비하인드 포스트입니다! (박수) (함성)

The person who will grace the very. end. of. the Special 8 Photo-Folio! It’s the behind-the-scenes post for Me, Myself, and SUGA ‘Wholly or Whole me’

(Applause)

(Cheers)

이번 화보는 바쁜 일상 속에 진짜 “나=민윤기” 를 만나볼 수 있는 순간을 화보로 풀어보았다고 해요! 화보의 전체 콘셉트 및 아이템들을 슈가의 의도와 취향이 반영된 것들로 꾸미고, 가장 슈가 다운 모습을 촬영하여 아미와 함께 공유하고 싶었다는데요!

In this photobook it’s said that we’ll be able to meet the real “Me = Min Yoongi” within his busy daily life through this photobook! The photobook’s overall concept and items are decorated according to SUGA’s design and style, And I wanted to share this with ARMY because they captured SUGA in his most authentic form!

민윤기,,,,, 오늘도 GOSO,, 하기 전에!

Min Yoongi,,,,, before I sue you*,, today as well!

(T/N: *An inside joke that came from when an ARMY playfully threatened to sue SUGA at a 2014 fansign for being too handsome.)

바로 비하인드 사진 만나러 가봐야죠!

Let’s go check out the behind-the-scenes photos!

혹시,, 혼자 오셨을까요,,,? 저도 혼자인데 같이 캠핑하실,,ㅋ? 물론 요리도 님이 하셔야하고,,, 운전도 님이 하셔야하지만,, 님과 함께하고 싶어요,,, 저 푸른 초원 위에,, ㅋ (그만)

Did you perhaps,, come alone,,,? I’m also by myself so would you maybe want to camp togeth,, ha? Of course you sir have to do the cooking,,, and you have to do the driving but,, I want to be together with you sir,,, On the prairie*,, ha (stop)

(T/N: *Referencing the lyrics from the song “With My Love” by Nam Jin)

민윤기 레전드 머리 등장 방림이 심장이 멎다. -삐—……

Min Yoongi’s legendary hairstyle has made an appearance Bangbell’s heart has stopped. -Beeeep—……

민윤기 얼굴 걍 기절이야.. 뭐야.. 나 이제 지도도 부러워해야 하는거임?

Min Yoongi’s face could just make me faint.. What even.. Should I be jealous of the map now too?

내가 이제,,, 무슨 말을 더 해야 하니,,,, (지침) 갱얼쥐야,, 너는,, 좋겠다,,,

What more,,, could I even possibly say,,,, (exhausted) Puppy,, you,, must be very happy,,,

자연광 + 민윤기 = 재질 걍 미쳤음 그냥,,,, 미쳤다는 말 밖에는,,,,, 할 말 X,,,

Natural lighting + Min Yoongi = Insane quality I just,,,, have X words left to say,,,,, except that it’s insane,,,

민슈가 사진 치과에 걸어두면 좋겠다… 보는 내내 입을 다물 수가 없어서 치료에 효과적일 듯 (;;) ㄴ ㄹㅇㅋㅋ

I wish I could hang up Min Suga’s photos at the dentist’s office…It seems like you wouldn’t be able to close your mouth while looking at them so it would be effective for dental treatment (;;) ㄴ For real haha

민윤기,, 세상에 있는 멋짐을 다 가졌구나,,, (안 무겁나?;;)

Min Yoongi,, I see you’ve taken all of the coolness in the world ,,, (Isn’t it heavy?;;)

방림이 힘들어요,,, 지금 벌써 고소장 309개 째 쓰고있단말이예요,,, (퀭)

Bangbell is going through it,,, I’ve already been writing 309 complaint forms,,, (sighs)

좋다,,, 이거 바로 그냥 배경화면 해 버려.

Nice,,, Just gonna make this my wallpaper.

엥 ? 누가 마쉬멜로우고 누가 민윤기란말임 도대체 누가 더 말랑하단말임?

Huh? Which one is a marshmallow and which one is Min Yoongi Which one would be the squishiest?

하 분위기 뭔데,, 방림이 인생에는 위기만 있는데,, 민윤기 사진 분위기 뭐냐고,,, ㅠ,,,,??? 저 옆자리에 방림이만 있으면 아주 그냥 딱 인데 ㄴ 아미 : ??? (흐린눈)

Ha what is this mood,, There’s only chaos in Bangbell’s life,, What’s the mood of Min Yoongi’s photos,,, ㅠ,,,,??? If Bangbell was in that spot next to him then it’d be just absolutely perfect ㄴ ARMY : ??? (blissfully ignores)

바람에 날린 앞머리 마저 귀.여.워. 민. 윤. 기. 귀. 여. 워. (기절)

Even his bangs fluttering in the wind are c.u.t.e. Min. Yoon. Gi. Is. Cute. (faints)

슈가만의 분위기와 무드가 가득한 Me, Myself, and SUGA ‘Wholly or Whole me’ ! 방림이의 비하인드 잘 구경하셨나요?! 포토북 기다리는 아미들은 방림이 포스트 보면서 조금만 기다려주기!

Me, Myself, and SUGA ‘Wholly or Whole me’ was full of SUGA’s unique ambiance and mood ! Did you enjoy Bangbell’s behind-the-scenes look?! For the ARMYs who are waiting for the photobook please wait a little more while you look at Bangbell’s post!

주말 잘 보내고, 기분좋게 마무리 하길 바라요 아미들! 이번주도 고생 많았어요! (하트)

Have a great weekend, and I hope you end the week on a happy note ARMYs! You’ve worked hard again this week! (heart)

아-뿅!

A-Poof!

(T/N: Short for “Bye ARMY! Poof!”, which is how Bangbell always ends these posts.)

[Note]

본 포스트는 BIGHIT MUSIC에서 직접 운영하는 포스트입니다.

This Naver Post is personally run by BIGHIT MUSIC.

[End Note]

#230310 #suga #yoongi #big hit #official #twitter #naver #post #bangbell #blogpost #me myself and suga #bts #bangtan #photos

61 notes · View notes