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just a little update! over the next 4 weeks i’ll mostly be posting drabbles, blurbs, and headcanons instead of any long fics because my trial exams start in 2 weeks and i’m gonna be buried in study. i still have a bunch of drafts sitting around that i want to clear out, so you’ll definitely be getting plenty of jace, aerion, jack, and valarr + others content while i’m gone.
i’ll still pop in every now and then to read things, reblog, and lurk whenever i have some free time, but besides that, everything will be running on queue until my exams are over. love youse!! 🤍
drabble synopsis 𓂃 ໒꒱ you accidentally kick jack in the crotch while you’re asleep, and he’s left questioning whether he’ll ever recover. (0.7k)
pairing 𓂃 ໒꒱ jack abbot x fem!reader.
content 𓂃 ໒꒱ established relationship, fluff, sleepy antics, dry jack humour.
Jack had come to the conclusion that you somehow became an entirely different person once you fell asleep.
Awake, you were always looking for him. Whether it was your hand finding his while you watched a movie or absentmindedly leaning against him while you brushed your teeth, you always seemed to gravitate towards him without thinking.
Asleep, however, you were a genuine hazard.
It never started that way. Every night, you’d curl into his side, stealing his body heat and mumbling something incoherent before drifting off. He’d lie awake for another ten or fifteen minutes, listening to the steady rhythm of your breathing until he was certain you were asleep.
Then the adventure began.
Sometimes you stole every inch of the blanket. Other nights, you’d somehow end up lying across the mattress at an angle that defied basic human anatomy. More than once he’d woken up with your arm thrown over his face or your foot pressed into his ribs, leaving him wondering how someone so peaceful looking could move so much without ever waking.
Jack usually found it amusing.
Usually.
Tonight was no different.
You’d fallen asleep tucked beneath his arm, one hand loosely gripping the front of his shirt as if letting go wasn’t an option. Jack smiled to himself, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face before settling back into the pillows. The apartment was quiet, the only sound the occasional hum of the heater and your soft breathing against his chest.
It didn’t take long before he started drifting off himself, but then you moved.
At first, it was nothing more than a sleepy stretch, your shoulder nudging against his side before your legs shifted beneath the blankets.
Jack barely noticed.
The next movement came out of nowhere.
Your knee drove straight up between his legs.
The air disappeared from his lungs so quickly he wasn’t even sure he’d made a sound until a strangled groan escaped him. Every muscle in his body locked as he instinctively curled forward, one hand gripping the comforter while the other clamped over his face.
“Jesus…”
The sound startled you awake almost instantly. You blinked blearily into the darkness, pushing yourself up on one elbow, your hair sticking out in every direction as you looked over at him.
“Jack?” you mumbled. “What’s wrong?”
He stayed exactly where he was for another few seconds, taking one slow, painful breath before finally answering.
“…You got me.”
Your brows knitted together in sleepy confusion. “Whhat do you mean?”
“You kneed me.”
You frowned, still trying to wake yourself up, “where?”
Jack slowly cracked one eye open to look at you. “If I have to answer that, I’m even more concerned.”
It took a second before the realisation crashed into you, “oh my god.” Your hand flew to your mouth as your eyes widened. “Jack, I’m so sorry.”
“I know you didn’t mean to,” he said, finally managing to lean back against the headboard. He let out a slow breath, still wincing. “Doesn’t make it hurt any less.”
You were already reaching for his arm, your brows pinched together with guilt. “I was asleep, I swear. I didn’t even know I moved.”
“I know.” He turned his hand over so your fingers laced together, giving yours a small squeeze. “You’re okay.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I’ll survive.”
You searched his face for a second, trying to figure out whether he was saying that just to make you feel better. “Are you sure?”
Jack glanced down at the blankets, then back at you, one corner of his mouth twitching despite himself as he shrugged. “I’d still like to have kids with you someday, babe,” he said dryly. “So maybe we retire the flying knees.”
A horrified noise left you before another apology could tumble out, but Jack was already chuckling under his breath.
“Hey.” He brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear before tugging you back against his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m kidding.”
“You better be.”
“I am.” His hand resumed its lazy path up and down your back, waiting until he felt you finally relax against him. He let the room fall quiet again, listening to your breathing even out as you settled against him.
After a moment, he looked down at you with a smile he couldn’t quite hide. As much as he knew he probably shouldn’t, he couldn’t help slipping in one last joke. “I’m still trying to cope with the fact my girlfriend nearly ended my bloodline in her sleep.”
“Jack,” you murmured in warning, your eyes still closed.
He only laughed, pressing another kiss to the top of your head before settling comfortably back into the pillows with you tucked against his side.
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contains ᦸ hc + blurbs kissing physical touch sweetling and valarr hate aerion I think that’s all based on this req ٫٫ 3.5k
❛❛ give all you’ve got, under the moonlight, it’s yours for the taking…
Sweetling reader ! who was sent to live with her uncle and her cousins at the Red Keep, when she was just 12 years old. She flourished quickly under the care and guidance of her uncle. She missed her father and her siblings dearly, and despite the chaos of court, she truly was happy there. Her cousin Valarr, who was also her closest confidant, made it easier for her to settle in. He wanted her to feel at home.
Sweetling reader ! who was relieved and filled with happiness when Baelor brought her into his office in the tower for the hand, to break the news of her betrothal to Valarr. Something Baelor and her father have been talking about for a while, but they wouldn’t proceed with it unless she was willing, which she thankfully was. They were wed once she turned 17 and Valarr 18; the celebrations lasted a week. The newlywed couple made sure that the smallfolk of King's Landing received food, coin, and supplies. They didn't want to start their marriage by being the reason the people starved and suffered just so their celebrations would be remembered.
Sweetling reader ! and Valarr Targaryen who have been attached to each other's hips ever since she came to be his father's ward, them becoming betrothed and then married only made them even closer. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Valarr was a quiet but consistent lover; he would stay up and help her with her dragon dreams, would join her on her walks in the garden or her horse riding in the godswood, would bring her the finest jewelry, and listen to her play her harp for hours. Tales and songs of their genuine, gentle love would be remembered till the end of time.
The morning light filtered through the stone-carved, high-arched windows, gilding your shared chambers in a soft glow. The air was warm—the fires had burned low overnight—and faintly smelled of a rich Smokey scent from the hearth and rose oil from the perfumed candles that still glowed around the chamber.
Your husband was sitting propped against silken pillows, bare-chested beneath you. His hands rested lightly on your hips, reverent but not possessive. You wore nothing but a loose linen chemise nightgown; below it, the sheet pooled low around your thighs like liquid ruby. His face was flushed—partly from last night’s passion, partly because you sat so comfortably on his lap.
“You’re so warm,” you cooed with a small smile, moving your hands slowly up his bare chest and leaving chills in your wake. Your husband was strong—not brute strength, but that lean elegance of a prince who trained daily. Broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist beneath sculptured muscle. The kind meant for ballrooms and jousts rather than war.
Valarr Targaryen—soft as moonlight, his one eye of blue and the other of brown were looking up at you with reverence—breathed in sharply at your touch and the way you were looking at him, cooing in that voice sweet enough to make anyone melt. His skin was kissed by sunlight, hours you had spent the night before, littering him with soft kisses.
“Warm?” He echoed softly—his own voice hushed. Lifting his hands higher up your sides beneath the thin chemise fabric slowly. His lips parted slightly—as if wanting to kiss you, but waiting for you. The space between you closed like a breath held too long.
Your lips met his—soft at first, teasing—a gentle press of shared warmth that deepened almost instantly. Valarr responded without hesitation; his hands fully around your waist now, pulling you closer against him beneath the silk sheets as he kissed back with quiet fervor. No words, just heat and hunger in the morning stillness. His mouth moved skillfully against yours—trained by yours.
He tasted faintly of wine from last night’s feast…sweet arbor red, but also something so uniquely Valarr. One of your hands trailed up higher to tangle in his hair.
Your fingers tightened in his hair—gripping, possessive—not harsh, but with the quiet dominance of a dragon claiming what’s hers. The kiss deepened under your control: slow at first, then firmer as you tilted your head to take it further. He let you lead—the arch of your lips against his mouth dictating the pace—and only dared to breathe through his nose between kisses, returning for more like an addict given rare access.
His hands stayed where they were: on your waist, now sliding up slightly beneath the fabric, warmly cradling you closer as if he were afraid the moment would vanish.
“You touch me so gently. Did I tire you out last night?” You teased him so fondly, warm breaths panting against his lips before you nipped at his bottom one. He was always so gentle with you, but now it was as if he was holding back.
You knew the reason why.
Valarr’s breath hitched—hard—at the nip on his lip, a sharp little bite that sent fire racing through his body. A low sound escaped as a hum, a near-growl muffled against your lips as one of his hands finally slipped from your waist to curl around the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair. The other slid beneath your nightgown—warm palm caressing bare skin.
The kiss turned fierce—Valarr’s restraint snapping like a bowstring drawn too tight. No longer passive and restrained, but claiming, hungry and insistent. The Princely cool composure melted away completely. He kissed you with the fervor of a man who’d been holding back all night while watching you dance with lords in gowns that clung to every curve…who’d sat tensely next to his father, pretending not to stare longingly at his wife.
Now his lips were everywhere—your mouth first, then trailing down your jaw with soft bitters before catching the sensitive spot just below your ear. His hands moved faster now: one still tangled in your hair; the other slipped further up your thighs under the fabric—fingertips tracing warm skin.
Valarr’s breath stilled, the kiss breaking.
His hand—still warm—softly brushed the curve beneath your nightgown. The baby bump, a miracle the court only just celebrated last night. The two of you had kept it a secret for as long as you could, sharing stolen knowing smiles whenever someone mentioned them having an heir. And now here you were: glowing with pregnancy, sitting on his lap—kissing him, teasing him—and yet so tenderly carrying their child.
His touch turned reverent—not lustful, not possessive like before—but tender as a prayer. With infinite gentleness, Valarr rested both hands on either side of the soft swell, cradling it in awe. You lowered your forehead to his, your noses brushing against each other as he exhaled a shaky breath—a tender smile on his lips. No words still. Just love poured silently between two young hearts tangled together in destiny’s web.
Valarr Targaryen who wanted to have a daughter. Who called the babe throughout the pregnancy, his little girl. Who was at your side, holding your hand through the whole birth, not caring about any of the ‘formalities’. Who could barely hold back his tears as he watched you hopelessly, praying to the gods for something he could do to make this easier. Who finally let the tears fall as he held his son, his boy.
Sweetling reader ! who refused to have a wet nurse. She would feed and care for her son herself, with the help of her husband, of course. Who leaves it up to Valarr to name their son, he chose the name Maelor. A mixture of both of their fathers' names, something that had both of the strong men hold back tears. She was glowing; she took to motherhood beautifully.
Sweetling reader ! and Valarr Targaryen who refuses to have Maelor out of either of their sights, only trusting him with their fathers or their trusted handmaidens, but that’s rare. They are both so utterly in love with their son and the little family they have. They spend more time in their chamber, cuddling up and just watching their son coo and move around; they are awed at everything. They love to go on walks together in the garden, and Valarr loves to hold him as they both listen to her play the harp.
The chamber was quiet—warm firelight flickering across tapestries of dragons and deserts. The air smelled faintly of lavender, the herbs your maid had scattered in a small brazier to freshen up the room, the scent soothed the family of three. You stepped inside, your sworn shield pulling the door closed as he stayed in the hallway. Maelor remained asleep in your arms, his chest rising and falling softly beneath layers of soft wool linens.
Your eyes drifted to where your husband was behind you, a small smile of fondness on your lips as you watched him start to undress from his formal attire. They wouldn’t be leaving their chambers for the rest of the night. They were only just now returning to their chambers because it seemed their son had become spoiled and could only fall asleep when he was in his grandsire Baelor’s arms as of late.
You looked away before your mind started imagining having another babe with him, slowly moving towards the cradle, to lay your sleeping son in it.
The cradle—carved dark wood, adorned with tiny silver dragons coupled around its edges—rocked gently as you laid Maelor down. His breath was soft and even, his lips parted in innocent sleep. You adjusted the linens around him once more, tucking them snugly under his chin to guard against the castle's chill drafts.
For a long moment, you simply stood there watching your son. The firelight danced across his round cheeks and fluttered over those unfairly perfect lashes he’d inherited from his father. A pang hit your chest—not sharp like anger—but something quieter…sadder. He was growing so fast; soon your excuses to have him sleep in a cradle in your chambers instead of his nursery wouldn’t work any longer.
Behind you—the sound of soft footsteps stopped.
You felt his gentle hands on your waist, palms sliding across your front to carefully untie the knot of your robe while breathing in the scent of your hair with a happy sigh. The ruffle of fabric was quiet. Your eyes fluttered closed for a small moment at the feeling of him placing a gentle kiss on the warm skin of your shoulder once he slowly pulled the robe off you.
“He sleeps just fine, my beloved; now it’s your turn,” Valarr promised sweetly with another gentle kiss to your shoulder, squeezing your arms softly before he took the robe into his hands and took a step back. You nearly frowned when you felt the warmth of his body behind you fade as he stepped back and laid your robe over the chaise. Of course, he knew what you had been thinking; he also noticed the lack of sleep you’ve been having over the past moons.
You let out a dramatic sigh as you walked over to the large canopy bed, slipping off your slippers before sitting on the edge, leaning back on your hands. Valarr smiled warmly at the sight of you looking so prettily on their bed, waking over to you to stand between your thighs. You lift your chin to look up at your husband, smiling coyly as you try to explain why you weren’t tired. “My breasts still ache.”
“Oh, do they?” Valarr pouted in faux sympathy as he slowly moved his hands up your thighs to your hips, not believing you for one moment but still playing along like the sweet husband he is.
”Mhm…terribly so.” You copied his faux pout, wincing dramatically as you sat up straighter so you could be closer to him. Valarr stopped himself from laughing, reminding himself to be quiet and not wake their sleeping son.
“How convenient.” He mused tauntingly as he dipped his head down, his nose softly brushing against your cheek before placing a feather-light kiss on it, then your temple, and lastly your lips. The kiss deepened just a little—slow, tender, full of unspoken love. His lips moved softly against yours with perfect rhythm—the kind that comes from years of kissing and knowing exactly how your mouth fits his.
One hand moved from your waist to cradle your face gently while the other held your hip. The warmth between them was passionate yet peaceful—a feeling they felt deep in their bones. When you finally parted for air, you kept your forehead pressed against his, eyes still closed and breathing each other in. You whispered with a dramatic gasp, the corner of your lips fighting to twitch up into a smile, “Are you calling me wanton husband?”
Without saying anything, he kissed you again—sweeter this time—and let his nose nuzzle yours once he pulled away. He could see the tiredness in your eyes, how you were trying to fight it. His thumb gently caresses your cheek as he places a long, soft kiss on your forehead, letting out an exhale before whispering with a smile, “Lay down with me before Maelor wakes up half the castle with his cries, hmm?”
Sweetling reader ! who had been a victim of Aerion’s relentless taunting and cruelty since she could remember. Aerion’s cruelty, lingering touches, and his obsession with her were the main reasons why Maekar sent her to stay with Baelor. Aerion didn’t just want to own her; he wanted to hurt her. His obsession wasn’t discreet either.
Sweetling reader ! and Valarr Targaryen who didn't want to come to the tourney. They wanted to go to Dragonstone with Maelor and Matarys, but Baelor made it clear that they must come along to show good faith. The whole journey to Ashford, she was in the wheelhouse with 1-year-old Maelor and her 2 ladies-in-waiting. They didn't want to bring Maelor along because they worried too much, but they also couldn’t bear to leave him at the Red Keep in the hands of others, no matter how much they trusted them.
Valarr Targaryen who’s hated Aerion with a fiery passion since they were children, and it only got worse as the years went on, seeing the way he treats his sister and how it affects her and continues to affect her. He kept Sweetling and Maelor close to his side the whole time they were at Ashford; he wouldn’t let Aerion near them; he wouldn’t let him hurt his family.
“And he just stood there—looking at her with that vile love-sickened look.” Aegon shuddered dramatically as he retold the moment between his new friend Duncan and the pretty puppeteer Tanselle. Your younger brother was quiet and teary-eyed when you pulled him into your arms and brought him to your chambers, but now his shoulders seemed to be lighter as he told you of his small journey with this Ser Duncan the Tall. Aegon smiled and blew raspberries loudly at his nephew, who was waving the wood-carved dragon in the air with a coo.
“Vile, love-sickened look?” You looked up from the silk scarf you were delicately embroidering to look at your little brother—who was sitting on the bear pelt rug in front of the hearth, playing with Maelor—with an amused smile. Your brother had such a way with words. Maelor looked towards you with his big eyes, just like his father's, at the sound of your voice.
You smiled as he waved the toy at you, clumsily bringing his hand up to blow you a kiss—something he learned from his father. Your eyes softened as you watched him get distracted by his hand as if he saw it for the first time, dropping the toy to shove his fist in his mouth. Aegon groaned in disgust and gently pulled his fist out of his mouth before looking up at you.
“Close to how Valarr looks at you.” He raised his eyebrows with a shake of the head, looking at you like you should already know the answer as he spoke in that bratty, knowing tone you knew too well. You scoffed at his brattiness, but you couldn’t stop the big smile from spreading across your face at the thought. The others could see the love your husband had for you.
“Now you have it.” Aegon gagged dramatically at the look on your face, how your eyes dazzled in love. Maelor tried to copy his uncle but ended up coughing, pouting at Aegon afterward. Dramatics sure did run in the family. You looked up from the silk scarf at the sound of the wood doors of the chambers opening. Aegon flinched and immediately looked towards the door, hoping to get news of Duncan, but only saw his cousin, your husband.
“Aegon, your father is asking for you.” Your husband's calm voice filled the silence of the chambers once his eyes found his young cousin playing with his son. His gaze immediately then went to you; he could see the worry in your eyes as you noticed his tense demeanor, the way he clenched his jaw. Aegon’s shoulders sagged, and that familiar look of sadness decorated his face once again.
His nimble fingers worked to take off his sword belt, laying it across the bottom of the bed he’d share with you. For tournaments, he usually liked to stay in his pavilion on the fields near the other men, but he couldn't risk leaving you and Maelor, not with Aerion walking around. Your own nimble fingers stopped embroidering as you watched your little brother gently squeeze your son's cheek as he muttered, “Goodnight, Maelor.”
Aegon stood up; he looked so small in clothes that fit him perfectly, a reminder of how young he truly was. His eyes were downcast as he spoke, “Goodnight, sister.”
He was turning around and moving towards the door before you could even open your mouth to say it back. Valarr stepped in front of him, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder as he looked down at the young prince, his voice soft and reassuring ”You know where we are.”
“How angry is my father?” You asked your husband with a worried frown once the chamber door closed. Your eyes filled with worry as you watched him take off his boots and doublet, his jaw clenched and tension in his shoulders. Valarr gave you a soft but pointed look as he walked over to the two of you. “His anger is towards Aerion and Aerion alone.”
Valarr smiled warmly and crouched down in front of Maelor, who was quick to babble and hold his arms out for him. Your husband was quick to grant his son's wish, picking him up and holding him close. He placed a kiss on his chubby cheek and then his temple as he breathed in his scent, something that always soothed the two of you. He whispered, “Hello, my sweet boy.”
“And Daeron—Is he well?” So many thoughts were clouding your mind, and it was starting to make it ache. You knew this Tournament was no good; you had felt it in your bones for many moons. Your hands trembled around the embroidery needle and the silk scarf as the dream and Daeron’s frantic whispers started to make sense.
Valarr looked away from his son's big eyes filled with happiness to look into yours, filled with fear and worry. He held Maelor close with one arm as he walked over to you. He softly caressed your face before moving his hand to the back of your head. He leaned down and pressed a soft and long kiss to your forehead, whispering reverently against your skin, “My sweet wife.”
“I just worry for Aegon; he’s already attached to this, Ser Duncan. Will the hedge knight be kill—“
”No more of this, my sweet; our fathers are seeing to this. You shouldn’t worry.” Your husband cut off your frantic, worried rambling. You sighed, and the tension that had found its way to your body started to melt as his thumb gently caressed your cheek, pulling you out of your thoughts. He wouldn’t let you get drowned in your mind again.
”Tis’ late; both of you need rest—in my arms I would have it.” Valarr hummed with a sweet smile as he tried to sound stern, looking away from you to smile and place a soft kiss on Maelor’s nose. Maelor giggles and reaches up to clumsily grab at his father's nose. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight and the sound of your son’s innocent laughter as Valarr grabbed his small hand and pressed kisses to it.
You carefully set the silk scarf on the small table next to your chair before you stand up. Smiling, you place a soft kiss on your son's temple before leaning up to place a kiss on Valarr’s jaw. Your husband's hand moves down to the arch of your back, pressing you close. You felt your worries and fears burn away under the feeling of your husband's touch and the sight of your son.
You tilt your head with a teasing grin as you place your hand on Valarr’s chest, fidgeting with the soft cloth of his tunic. Your tone was playful as you dramatically bowed your head, “As my husband commands.”
┊࿐ ❛❛ continue on to my….sweetling mlist & main masterlist ❜❜
Იᰍ MY FIRST FIC FOR SWEETLING (ᗒᗣᗕ ;) guys I love her so much , I really hope you guys love this too !! and just a reminder that she can be requested with anyone in asoiaf with any plot etc. this is a interactive au so your guy’s thoughts, ideas, and opinions are very important and wanted !! comments, reblogs and feedback is very welcomed !! please tell me your thoughts 🤍
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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hiii im just wondering it you'll ever write a pt two for your "all he wanted" Aerion fic??? i loved it sm
hiya!! most likely nawt. i’ll definitely be writing more dark!aerion fics soon, though!! but i’m also more than happy to write little drabbles based on ‘all he wanted’
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you guys cannot understand how much i yearn for the hunger games sunrise on the reaping movie to come out in november. like please, just give it to me already, i need it right now. and when it finally comes out… expect fanfics. and i mean lots of them.
