#Poor poor Alicent “I didn’t want this

[drakaripykiros130ac]

With all the “accidents” that the show-runners have invented in favor of the Greens, I think it would be pretty fair to have them done for the Blacks too.

Like for example, Daemon is angry about how much Rhaenyra suffers after the loss of Lucerys. He vents about it to his former confidant, Mysaria, who “misunderstands” Daemon’s intentions and arranges B&C. And then, when Daemon finds out, he goes 😱, then expresses how much he didn’t want this, oh no!

But of course, since only the Greens can have three “accidental” murders done in cold blood, there isn’t much room for bad fanfic writing in the Blacks’ favor, so they’ll have to go with canon.

I am betting Condal will forget about Daemon and have Rhaenyra herself arrange B&C with Mysaria, because of course, a grieving mother has nothing better to do than start discussions about vengeance with none other than her husband’s former mistress. Makes perfect sense.

And above all, I am 100% sure that the showrunners will abandon the idea that Aegon throws a feast in celebration of Lucerys’ death, so that he can retain the title of “victim daddy” who lost a child he didn’t give a damn about while he was alive.

And of course, him calling out for war in retribution for his son’s death is perfectly alright, as opposed to Rhaenyra’s desire to get justice for the murder of her own child, because Rhaenyra is a woman. She is not allowed to do anything that makes her seem less than perfect.

[altblock-tm]

behind the scenes beef in our production of Alice in Wonderland is insane

[mostofthingsmostofthetime]

Sorry, still following the serise. Just can't post much right now coz of real life commitments. So have a tier list -

[ultimatetrashgoblin]

Just now I finally finished I Was Born For This

*screams into the void*

I loved it highly recommend it’s severely underrated

Also he is literally me actually

[mythicmanuscripts]

(Also, Aemond is also a biter but that’s exclusively during sex when he’s completely overwhelmed and he bites hard enough to bruise. He always feels terrible afterwards but you think it’s a small price to pay to see him completely broken down by pleasure)

Hello sir/ma’am/gender neutral term to show respect, I have the physical need to hear further thoughts about this.

Maybe about the first time Aemond does this? And he’s a bit ashamed and all apologetic (he might even cry a little) because he didn’t mean to hurt reader!! But reader just felt so good, and he was so overwhelmed. And aftercare of course because our boi deserves it all

Of course! I’m utterly obsessed with anything to do with Aemond losing control and just letting himself feel.

Subby NSFW Aemond below the cut! It starts out a bit angsty but I promise it ends well.

So to start, Aemond prides himself on being put together and composed. He’s not his brother. No one will ever find him stumbling out of pubs and brothels in the early hours of the morning, nor will he ever make a fool of himself in court through a lack of knowledge. He is good, he is prepared, and he prides himself on his composure.

Except no one ever told him that falling in love can make a person lose all that composure. Perhaps if his first time wasn’t that brothel worker and he didn’t have such a screwed idea of sex that he wouldn’t touch another woman until his marriage, then perhaps he would have expected this. But of course that didn’t happen.

I also think a large part of his poor outlook on marriage would be from witnessing his parents' marriage? Anyone with eyes can see that Alicent is not even slightly in love and just doing what she thinks is best to gain power for herself and her children.

Aemond may avoid sexual contact after that brothel incident, but that's not to say he's naive in any way. He knows the guards would summon Alicent to Viserys's chambers where she would be forced to lay with him before returning to her own bed.

This, he believed, was what marriage meant for noble arranged couples. There was never intimacy or care or warmth, only ever duty and thinly veiled resentment.

So when he meets you for the first time and Alicent says you're to be his wife, he doesn't quite know what to expect but he certainly doesn't expect how reasonable you are? He never expected a friendship to form never mind a relationship and yet he found himself searching for you in crowded rooms before he had even said his vows.

You and Aemond get along better than anyone ever expected and well, Aemond has no fucking idea what to do now.

Pretty quickly you realise Aemond seems to have two states? He’s either cool and calm and very collected, every word he speaks is carefully chosen and no one can get under his skin or get him to reveal anything about himself. Or he’ll be very flustered and whiney and he can’t even string a sentence together, he’ll end up clingy and unsettled, shaking until you pull him into your arms and then only settling when he can hold onto you.

There is no in between. Aemond has never found an in between because he’s never been anything other than composed until you come along and suddenly he’s feeling a whole new range of emotions and for the first time he actually doesn’t want to be closed off?

(Sidenote: the single most important realisation Aemond has is when he realises he actually wants you to see that side of him? He loves you, and you love him, and you’re the one who has made him feel so warm and soft and so… so loved and he realises that he actually wants you to see that? You did that to him, you deserve to see how you effect him)

Anyway, let’s address the actual point now.

The first time things get really intense between the two of you is a few weeks into the marriage, once you're regularly kissing and cuddling and Aemond is beginning to rely on your touches and confidence. Maybe Aemond had even eaten you out a few times. It takes a while of Aemond refusing to let you reciprocate before he finally feels safe enough to let you touch him properly.

The first time you do, you end up stroking him while straddling his thighs. What really ruins him about this is how it goes against everything he ever expected? He's sitting in a comfortable chair besides the fireplace in your shared chambers, he's warm and safe and he feels so... at ease? There is none of the horrid vulnerability he experienced at the brothel but also now of the sterile nature he came to expect as a result of Alicent and Viserys.

Instead it's just... good? That't it. There's nothing complicated or hidden or anything. That's what makes him completely unravel, this unparalleled safety and love that just lets him let go.

He whines and cries and bucks his hips without any care for how pathetic he probably looks. He can't help it, especially not when you're smiling down at him and calling him pretty and stroking his cock.

When he gets close, he warns you and just tell him to let go.

He ends up gripping your hips hard and burying his head in your shoulder as he rides out an orgasm that takes his breath away. He doesn't even realise it until he pulls away, but he bit your shoulder pretty hard when he came.

You felt it of course, and it wasnt exactly pleasant, but the way he smiled at you once he recovered enough and slouches back against the chair without an ounce of tension in his body made it well worth it. He can bite you as many times as he likes if it means you get to see him like this.

He, of course, absolutely panics when he realises. He sees how your shoulder is already turning red and the only reason he hasn't ran out the room is that you're literally on his lap.

You try to reassure him that you arent upset, but your words seem to fall on deaf ears. In the end you have to grab the hair at the bottom his neck and tug hard enough that he stops speaking and gasps as his head gets pulled back. You keep him like that, keeping your grip on his hair tight, as you tell him that you arent upset, not at all. You tell him that you know it wasnt meant to hurt you, and also that you're fine. You arent upset, he's still so good for you.

He calms down enough then to be led to bed.

But the next morning is when a rather interesting development occurs. You wake up to discover a dark purple bruise on your shoulder in the shape of a bite mark. You can see exactly where his teeth were. You touch it and it stings, but you arent upset about it.

What really shocks you though is how when Aemond wakes and sees it, he kinda loses his mind? Not because he thinks he's hurt you, but because you have a mark from him. You've literally got his bite mark on your shoulder how the fuck is he supposed to function now??

[crossingthedreams]

no one else to turn to — aemond targaryen x sister-wife!reader

masterlist | day 16 (@angstober) — no one else to turn to

summary: in aemond’s mind, everything he did, he did to protect his family. what he didn’t realize was how much he was hurting them in the process. 

word count: 2.3k 

warnings: angst. targaryen incest (brother/sister). arranged marriage. sexism. reader is one of the greens (i’m not though). slight reader x aegon, if you squint. no use of y/n. not proofread.

You were more than somebody’s wife, somebody’s sister, somebody’s daughter or somebody’s grandchild. That’s what the men in your life constantly failed to understand. You were a person before you were, involuntarily, theirs. 

The matter at hand wasn’t your right to an opinion, but a right to your very own identity. 

Somehow, all of the sentences coming out of your brother’s mouth began with “as a child of…”, “as the sister of…”, always justifying how you should be by taking the men in your life and putting their wellbeing and their thoughts above your own. it was degrading and belittled you, not as a Targaryen Princess — which, make no mistake, you most certainly were — but as a human being worth of the same rights as any men. 

You stomped angrily towards your sister’s room, eager to share your frustrations. It wasn’t until you were inside that you were reminded she’d be very little conversational. All your worries faded momentarily when you saw Helaena curled up on the couch, a green duvet in her hands and gaze lost in the distance. 

It was only a few weeks since the terror she was put through with her children. She looked so small now, and she was barely older than you. 

You sat next to her, but didn’t touch her. Before the terrible events, Helaena already disliked being touched. Now, you didn’t even want to risk it. Poor girl, she didn’t deserve all this sorrow and stress. 

“Sister”, you called, quietly, trying to enter her vision camp. “Sister, it’s me”. 

“She won’t talk right now”.

Your mother’s voice came from the entry, and she was elegant as always. The grief clothing she wore for your father and nephew suited her. As you turned to look at her, your back straightened instantly. Your memory of tedious suppers during which she would tap your leg to fix your posture was immediate, and you didn’t want to relieve it. 

She approached the both of you, and sat near Helaena without saying a word. You wondered if this was her daily ritual.

“I believed you’d be at your brother’s side, dear”, the Queen Alicent said to you, without taking her eyes off Helaena. She passed her hands through the disheveled hair of the current Queen, and you realized you hadn’t responded. 

“I was”, you began, unsure whether it would be wise to continue. Not because of your family, but of the servants. Anything could go back to your brother and, depending on his mood, even the kindest words spoken about him would do you more harm than good.

Your mother raised her brown eyes to meet yours, “I see”. 

Your gaze moved from your mother to your sister back and forth, before deciding this room was much too crowded. You excused yourself, filled with a new sense of horror as you left the room. Even the Queen couldn’t be protected, so what hope was there for the common woman? 

You walked slowly back to your chambers, which were joined with your husband’s. You were just shy of six-and-ten at the day of your wedding, and your mother was adamant that there would be no bedding ceremony. 

Your husband, then, in an unusual act of selflessness and kindness, chose to wait a while, until it was you who came to him. The joined room’s were his idea after the first night you spent together. That way you could have your space and still come to him, and have him come to you, too. 

In that aspect, you were lucky. When Helaena was pregnant, she talked more, and she mentioned Aegon would be in and out of her in five minutes, and only every other night. What an awful relationship. 

Yet, Aegon was still your brother, and he was severely wounded after the Battle of Rook’s Rest that took Princess Rhaenys’ life. You weren’t close to her, but you knew her, and she was always kind to you. It was a terrible loss caused by this senseless war.

According to your dearest brother, though, you didn’t have a clue as to what was necessary to the Realm. 

The memory of it made you tear the necklace you were wearing and throw it against a wall. Your maid called your name, and she probably saw you as a petty, annoying Princess right now, throwing a tantrum like a child. 

You stilled your breath, and turned towards her. “Please make arrangements for me to see the King this afternoon”, you told her. You hated giving orders. That was something your brother Daeron wrote about to you constantly. 

Later that day, you still had your family in your mind. How did you all become such a mess? 

You practically tiptoed inside Aegon’s chambers, unsure to what he’d be, look or act like. You hadn’t seen him since before the battle, and all you knew your mother and husband had told you. Apparently, he looked terrible, felt a lot of pain and was but a shell of who he used to be. 

When you found his figure, laying on the bed, you realized they had been too kind in describing his state.

He was burnt in a way you had never seen before, and it went down to his body beneath the covers. His hair had mostly fallen, and his ear melted to his ear. The pain he must have felt… You felt awful. There had to be something you could do to ease him. He wasn’t a wise man, nor was he the most galant, but he was your big brother.    

“What are you doing here?”, he said with difficulty, before you could even open your mouth. 

You looked into his eyes, the violet of it paler than ever. Before you could speak, you decided to sit at the chair by his bedside, so you weren’t looking down on him. 

“I had no one else to turn to”, you decided to tell him the truth. He remained quiet, but you saw something shift in his gaze at the realization he was still needed, and not useless. You let your head drop to your hands, feeling ridiculous to be complaining to a man who had just survived dragon fire and the loss of a child. 

Still, the tears began to fall. 

“You may talk”. 

At his bed, burnt beyond recognition, without a crown — that was the first time you saw Aegon as a King.

Your head raised, and you wiped away your tears. Before you began, your back instinctively straightened. 

“Mother is… well, mother”, you both let out a breathy laugh. “She’s deeply unhappy, brother. Daeron hasn’t sent news in over a fortnight, and Helaena is…”.

“I think it’s best if we skip over my dear wife, sister”, his gazer turned away from you. You felt honesty in his tone in a way you hadn’t ever. “I don’t know, and never knew, how to comfort my wife”.

“Marriage is tricky, is it not?”, you tried to lighten the mood, making a small jest. However, Aegon didn’t laugh.

“I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder for you”.

Your confusion must have been clear, because he continued, even though it clearly hurt for him to speak. “You were just a child, and you were thrown into a man’s bed, which can be quite the insalubrious environment, as I have been made aware. It kills me to think what married life must be for you and Helaena”. 

“It wasn’t your fault”, you said, with sincerity too. “You were a kid, and you were thrown into all this. We deserved better, brother”.

You didn’t want him to cry anymore than you wanted to cry yourself. When you saw the tears in his eyes, you stood up and kissed the top of his head. A gesture of fraternity. 

A sound came from the door, and when you turned, you saw the man who was the object of many conversations you had lately. 

Aemond Targaryen was a complicated man, with more nuance to him than poetry, and sharper than a dagger. Your older brother who, at adolescence, took you as his wife before the Seven and, later, in a Valyrian ceremony for your family. 

The fear that emanated from Aegon as soon as he saw Aemond was perceptible. You had no idea what happened amongst them, and as much as you wished to find out, you knew some things were out of your reach, even with deep curiosity. 

“My love”, Aemond greeted you with a kiss on the cheek, as if nothing happened earlier. He then looked over to Aegon, taking his hands and kissing them gently. “My dear brother”. 

Aegon was quiet now, still afraid. 

Aemond’s hand found the small of your back as he guided you outside, not letting you say goodbye. He said it for you before the door slammed behind you, and Aegon was left alone inside once more. 

“What were you doing in there?”, he demanded to know, the hand that laid carefully on your back now grabbing your arm as he walked with you in the direction of your joined chambers. 

There was a part of you that refused to talk, whilst the other wanted nothing more than to rub his face in… in whatever that with Aegon was. Unfortunately, mysterious didn’t do it for you. 

“Conversing with my brother, the King, who is severely injured and in need of company”, you spatted.

“I know he is injured”, Aemond grunted. 

“Of course you do, after all, you were there”, you replied as coldly as you could. He turned to you immediately, his one lilac eye almost in flames. 

“What are you implying?”, he said between gritted teeth. 

“Absolutely nothing”. You moved your face closer to his, letting him see you smile.

You didn’t fight often with Aemond. He was your husband, your older brother and you loved him dearly… Most of the time. Today, though, today he pissed you off — and you had earned the right to piss him off right back.

“Certainly you do not think me capable of any sort of con or coup, my love”, the irony that flooded in your voice was unfamiliar even to yourself. “After all, I am but a woman”, you mirrored his words from earlier that day, when you were called upon by the Small Council to fight alongside your husband and brother. Your refusal made Aemond cruel towards you, battering words you’d never thought you’d hear from the man who shared your bed. 

His one eye closed, and he let go of your arm, that would surely be bruised for days from the sheer strength he held you. You let out a long breath as your husband approached the opposite side of the corridor, the one with a view to the Winter Garden. From the garden, you could hear your mother’s voice. The long sleeved black dress you wore, with gold, green and red details, was enough to cover whichever bruises you might have. From this ridiculous exchange with Aemond or any other affair. 

You sighed profusely, both from tiredness and to get Aemond’s attention. His head turned a little to look over his shoulder, but he didn’t make eye contact. 

“Am I excused?”, you broke the silence, annoyed still. “Or am I to watch as you pout like a child looking for mother?”

He turned so quickly towards you his hair made a whoosh sound. He pointed one finger at you, lips pressing against each other, and then threw his hands in the air. 

“I don’t know what you want from me, woman!”, he exclaimed, turning around once more so your eyes didn’t meet his. 

It was wiser to let him vent at this moment instead of making another remark, so you waited for him to continue. 

“All I do, I do for you”, he lowered his tone, still avoiding your gaze. “And yet, here you are. An unappreciative, ungrateful little girl”. 

“Mind your tongue”, you said, feeling your blood boil. You squeezed your eyes, hand still on the arm he handled with such force earlier. “I am not a whore you visit whenever you please and talk as you please, I am the daughter of King Viserys Targaryen and sister of King Aegon Targaryen. You will not speak to me this way”. 

You’d never heard silence quite this loud. 

“If I cannot count on you, Aemond, then who will I turn to?”

“You can count on me to defend you, sister, but…”

“Who will defend me from you, brother?”, you interrupted him, letting the frown between your eyebrows grow. “Who will stand up for me when you bring me down in front of those pampered men thinking they can order me and my dragon around, not knowing the first thing from either me or Silverwing?”

Aemond straightened his back. He looked cold, distant at your firm tone. What an interesting sight it was for any servant who passed at the moment. The Prince Regent and his wife, in a staring match at the halls. 

There was an old saying that whenever a Targaryen is born, the gods toss a coin, and the whole world holds their breath to see which way would it land: greatness or madness. 

There was another thing about Targaryens, as you came to realize. The terrible loneliness. None of you had, truly had, one another. You heard the rumors about Daemon and Rhaenyra. You saw before your own eyes Aegon and Helaena. You knew the stories about what your father did to the late Queen Aemma, who was as much of a Targaryen as any of you. 

You loved your husband. That was exactly why it pained you so to realize you had no one else to turn to.

[fkinavocado]

a very indulgent exploration of what could've, should've been...

Don't Worry Darling (SPIN-OFF) - Masterlist, Author’s Notes & Warnings / alternatively, read on wattpad

Part One (word count: 6.2k)

“... Jack? Excuse me, Jack? Is that really you?”

The man reluctantly stopped in his tracks and turned around, recognizing the woman but having forgotten her name. “Oh… hi there, uhm…?”

“Emma. It’s Emma. You remember me, right?”

“Yeah, you’re, uhm… you used to work at the hospital…”

Emma approached him, noting he wasn’t keen on breaching the gap himself. Poor fellow, she thought. He looked a mess. She was surprised she’d even recognized him. “Oh, I’m still at the hospital! How are you, Jack? You know, we’re all worried about you. Why didn’t you take us up on our offer, hm? We’d have loved to help you any way we could… It can’t have been easy. Gloria told us she came over once with a home cooked casserole but no one answered the door. She assumed you’d moved. Which is good, we thought. But we couldn’t get a hold of you, you must’ve also changed your number…”

Jack wasn’t really making eye contact. His gaze downcast, a hoodie atop of a beanie on his head and an oversized, worn out puffer jacket that almost swallowed him up. He looked very poorly even hidden behind all that. His facial hair unkempt, as was his hair tucked underneath his beanie, seemingly longer strands of it all messy and straw-like peeking out. His glasses loose at his temples. His face was hollow cheeked and she really feared he wasn’t looking after himself properly at all. But what really stood out to her was the bouquet of flowers he was carrying.

“Yeah… I moved out of there. Too many memories.”

“Those were her favourite… pink roses,” she mused. “You miss her so, don’t you, Jack? You can’t even bear talking to me about her, you poor man, even after all this time… What must you be going through… do you– agh. This is so insensible of me to even ask. Forgive me. But if it’s any consolation, us at the hospital haven’t given up hope. We still think she’s out there, somewhere, our Alice…”

Jack cleared his throat and took a step back. “I should get going…”

“Of course. Do take care of yourself, Jack. And if you ever want to reach out, you know where to find us. Take all the time you need.”

“Thank you,...” he stammered a bit, not knowing what else to say. He walked for a while in the wrong direction, just in case the nosy woman decided to follow him. 

He hadn’t moved. That would’ve been near impossible, and since he managed to dodge the bullet while the police were sniffing around for the longest time, he figured there wasn’t any reason to do so anymore. But he couldn’t have her know that, which is why he never answered the door to the other woman with the casserole either. 

After making sure she wasn’t following him, he resumed his walk home. He wished he could find some type of work from home. He’d be saving so much time and money on the commute, plus he’d always be there, which was quite imperative, all things considered.

What if there was a power outage? The one time that’d happened, there’d been dire consequences. Consequences he hadn’t had to endure. And he simply couldn’t allow that to happen again.

There were so many things that could go wrong while he wasn’t home.

Plus, if he worked remote he could take on a full shift. As it was, he had to work part-time, which wasn’t nearly enough to make ends meet. But the commute and all the prep he had to do were taking up too much time, time he didn’t want to waste here.

Finally arriving home, he made sure to secure the front door- the lock and all 3 of the bolts. 

Checking the computer screen, he only had 40 minutes left. The woman had made him late, what with all the detours he had to make to be sure she wasn’t following him.

Canned tuna it was, then. Again. No time for cooking. Not that he had much in the fridge anyway. 

He always felt antsy between the time he got back home and logging in. He wanted to get everything done and out of the way as soon as possible- cooking, laundry, cleaning (more like tidying up, the apartment was far from clean even by his standards), everything on autopilot, peeking at the computer screen every now and then to make sure he didn’t miss his log-in window.

With 20 minutes to spare, that was his que. 

“Oh!” He rushed back to the kitchen to retrieve the flowers, then using the keys that he wore on a chain around his neck for safekeeping, he unbolted yet another set of locks on the bedroom door. 

There she was. 

His heart always swelled in his chest seeing her there, safe and sound. Everyday day, without fail, a sigh of relief escaped his lips once he entered the bedroom. He’d probably never stop worrying while he was away for work.

“Darling, I… miss you all the time…” he hummed the lyrics to a song he used to sing to her often, placing the flowers in a vase by the bed. “Got you flowers, your favourite! Even that pesky Emma from the hospital remembers they’re your favourite. You’re so loved, hm? My precious girl.” He sat on the edge of the bed and reached to caress her supple cheek. “But I love you the most.”

Jack knew he did. Who else would do all this for her? Nobody! He tended after her, emptied out her waste bags as well as checked the respective connecting catheters were secure in place, cleaned her up, all without so much as wrinkling his nose. He replaced the IV, taking note that there was some bruising on that arm so he made sure to switch, he removed her compressive socks and massaged her limbs thoroughly before putting them back on, even made sure to hydrate her lips though she was getting all her nutrients through her IV, hell- he thought of everything. He did it all for her happily, and would do much more if needed. 

She’d done so much for them, too. 

She still did!

But long gone were the days where he’d see her come home from back to back shifts at the hospital, with barely any time to get some sleep in before she had to head back, all because she had to support the both of them all while paying off her student loans. 

Medschool was so expensive. Had he met her before he’d have talked her out of that career path. He’d have talked her out of any career! No. That was his job. He was the caretaker. He was the breadwinner. It’d been like that since the beginning of time. It was only natural for the man to provide. The fact that she’d had to for all that time had been killing him, every day that he had to sit at home and wait for her to get back from the hospital only to see her defeated, exhausted, drained beyond belief. 

Resident doctors were paid shit but strung out to the max. Especially surgeons. 

Meanwhile, Jack had struggled to find a job for the longest time. Unlike her, he hadn’t gone to college, let alone university. His parents couldn’t afford it at the time and he knew better than to tie himself up in student loans. He’d had odd jobs but nothing really ever stuck. He had no real skills, and every entry job demanded some form of higher education nowadays.

Plus, someone had to do house chores, cook and clean. And they couldn’t afford help. 

It’d been eating him up inside. It was all backwards! 

All up until he’d met someone online and got to talking over a game of World of Warcraft. This guy swore up and down about this dark web programme he’d found, but it was all very hush-hush, and Jack had to put in some serious gameplay time until he managed to extricate the info out of him.

The guy was very paranoid about telling him and even used a code system for what to look up. Jack took the lead and before long, he fell down the rabbit hole of what he now knew to be the Victory Project.

He got so immersed trying to digest all this new info being thrown his way all of a sudden that he nearly got caught listening to one of the podcasts when she’d gotten home from the hospital one day. He’d even forgotten to call the plumber. Boy- had that pissed her off.

She was already on edge all the time. Never had any time for him anyway- but if she got upset over silly little things she shut him out completely. 

He felt emasculated. Rejected. Reduced to a housewife.

Jack smirked to himself, as he tended to her whilst pondering all that. Securing the straps back around her wrists he mused at how things had changed. “I fixed it for us, I told you I would. Now you’re the one who’s waiting for me just as we speak. And I don’t even come home to you in scrubs, do I? No, I come home to you all handsome, suit and tie and ready to get my fill of you. Never too tired for you, am I darling? You’re such a great cook, god knows my mouth waters just thinking of all you’ve slaved over for us to feast on, but all I wanna do is feast on you instead. Aren’t you lucky?”

Jack watched her expressionless eyes for a moment as if waiting for her to answer him back, and promptly remembered to apply her eye drops, noticing they looked extra blood-shot than normal. He then finally got comfy in bed next to her. He couldn’t wait a moment longer. He was hard already just in anticipation of the way she’d excitedly open the door for him. The door to their lavish home, and their extravagant life together that he’d earned for the two of them. Him. 

He fixed the device around his own eyes and turned it on, taking her hand in his. 

“Welcome to the Victory Project. There are currently 72 active users.”

Nothing beat this. The pleasant, warm afternoon air sweeping through his perfectly coiffed hair as he rushed to get home to her from the Victory Headquarters. Here, the weather was always perfect… whereas, in the apartment, he had to keep the heating on a lower setting, the bill was ridiculous during the colder months. He always had to wear layers and layers, but not in the bedroom- no, he kept a radiator in there. All for her. He had to switch it off for safety reasons while he was away at work but it wasn’t like she was aware of her surroundings anyway! All the more reasons why he had to find something remote so he could work from home and clear up all these little things that bugged him about the whole arrangement. 

But he didn’t want to think about all that, not while he was here. No, here, those problems didn’t exist. This was his preferred reality, this was what he chose to believe was real. All the rest was just a means to an end.

He could feel all his exhaustment leave his body the closer he got to the house. He seldom wondered why she couldn’t have done the same for him coming back from the hospital. Why she couldn’t just leave all that baggage at the door and be glad to be home, back to him, where he waited for her like a lovesick puppy with separation anxiety.

He knew the answer to that now, of course, and that was all Frank’s merit- the brain behind this whole thing. He’d listened to his podcasts for a long while before he enrolled into the program. There was no way she could ever respect him within their given dynamic at the time. The roles were reversed and she couldn’t allow herself to be a woman to her man.

He’d fixed it, though, and boy, had Frank been right.

Every day, without fail, he knocked on the door coming home from work and there she was- all smiles and carefree and so eager to please him, in any way he saw fit. All because she respected him now. He was the man of the house, he was the breadwinner, he put a roof over her head, he got her all her little heart desired and kept her satisfied and happy. 

Which is why when nobody answered the door he was a bit taken aback.

Using his key that he’d rarely ever had to use himself to unlock the door, he let himself in and carefully inspected the silent house.

He knew, realistically, that there was no way something could’ve gone wrong- there was no crime in Victory. No one had broken into their home. But still, he searched the house tentatively. “Alice?”

Everything was spotless, and most striking of all, he couldn’t smell a trace of the homecooked meal he’d so been looking forward to. That tuna was enough to sustain his physical body, but not his large appetite.

Reaching the bedroom, he furrowed his brows with worry upon finding her… sleeping. Passed out on the bed, clad in her street clothes. She’d seemingly come back home from town exhausted and must’ve stretched her bones a bit by the looks of it. 

He contemplated waking her up. Maybe crawling between her thighs and having her gasp awake at the feel of him lapping languidly at her folds. He loved waking her up like that, and she did too. She loved being loved on, and Jack absolutely loved pleasuring her. She was so much more responsive, so much more sensitive to his touch, he could pleasure her over and over for hours on end. Probably ‘cause of all the practice he was having on a regular basis. And maybe he adjusted some settings regarding his stamina while creating his profile too, but at the end of the day, why not? He did it for her. All of this was for her!

Jack grunted to himself before closing the door to the bedroom so he wouldn’t perturb her sleep, deciding last minute to forgo his initial plans. Funny he’d been reminiscing about how things used to be just in time for this to happen all of a sudden.

It must’ve been a glitch in the system or something. This wasn’t in line with what he’d designed for themselves. Here, they were never tired, ill or imperfect in any way. Jack made a mental note to look into this after he logged out.

In the meanwhile- he’d never tried his hand at cooking here, where presumably he’d be a lot better at it than he was in reality. 

Just like with everything else.

*

Alice blinked her eyes awake. She took in her surroundings and hesitantly stood up on the bed in the dark room, letting her sight adjust. 

How did she get back here? Not here, here. She had an inkling of how she’d managed that- but back to the house, from the Headquarters. She couldn’t remember making the trek back.

Maybe she didn’t have to.

Maybe this was the default setting she woke up to everytime after entering… the simulation. Because, what else was this if not that?!

How long was she out of it? Judging by the darkness surrounding her, a good few hours. Perking her ears up, she could hear music- so Jack was home too.

She cradled her knees to her chest, trying to let it all sink in. She hadn’t had time to properly digest what had happened, in her unconscious state.

Hell, she was surprised she could even remember.

But this explained it… explained all the fuzzy deja vu-like flashbacks she kept having. Explained her brain fog and all the things she just couldn’t follow through in her train of thought. Explained why she sometimes couldn’t account for most of her day until Jack came home from work, almost as if she’d been on auto-pilot. 

Explained all the vivid “dreams”. 

They weren’t fanciful dreams, idealistic wishes of a progressive feminist world for which she’d gotten shock therapy at the Victory’s doctor’s orders.

They were her memories.

Waking up tied down to that bed… her own bed, from another life, had been traumatic, but she clearly was still in shock to be so calm about it. 

She hadn’t been calm initially of course- not when she couldn’t move her arms or blink her eyes shut. 

She’d managed to slip out of the confines, her wrists weak and frail and barely recognizable, yanking her IV out of her vein by accident- she hadn’t even known it was there!, all in an effort to get those things that forced her eyes open off of her face.

She’d been hysteric. Tried to muffle her own screams, because she didn’t know who was around to hear them. Tried to calm herself down, but the more she noticed, the more she hyperventilated. Like the fact that had both urinary and rectal catheters sticking out of her. Then she noticed how emaciated she looked, almost like she couldn’t even recognize her own body. She couldn’t feel her limbs, she felt numb and achy all over, bruises all across her skin from sitting still for so long. Her throat was hoarse, she couldn’t really scream that loud even if she wanted to.

She’d fumbled out of bed and immediately collapsed to the floor. She was too weak to stand, and she prayed she hadn’t broken any bones in her fall. She sat there crying in a fetal position for god knows how long, thinking of all the fractures she’d fixed in the OR, and all her knowledge that had gone to waste. 

All her life that had gone to waste!

This room, this bedroom- her old life came back to her in a flash, flooding all her senses. It felt like everything was finally clicking into place, and despite how miserable and utterly devastated she felt, it was a relief to finally figure it out. 

With the way nobody came rushing into the bedroom, she knew she was alone. Unless Jack was at this computer, headphones on– oh god. She felt her mind split into two trying to reconcile the fact that these two very different men were one and the same!

She was alone strapped to the bed- which could only mean one thing. He wasn’t constrained like she was. He hadn’t been forced into this. Unless they were being kept separate… both victims of this sick mindfuck. 

Because… surely– surely Jack couldn’t be behind this.

… Could he?

Scrambling for the door, determined to get some answers, she reached for the doorknob.

When she couldn’t get it to open, she mustered up all her strength to stand up- but still- it was no use. It was locked. And with the way it felt it looked like the door had been tampered with, bolted shut from the outside, not just locked. 

She was trapped. A prisoner in her own home. She eyed the windows next and even if by some miracle they weren’t bolted shut too- she knew she was too weak to try and use the fire escape. She’d surely succumb to her death trying to evade. She needed a plan- a better plan.

Her brain was scurrying to come up with something-anything, all the while dry heaving at the sight of her waste bags still attached to her by those catheters and the overall stale smell of the room, but she knew that with how dehydrated she was, vomiting would take her out completely at that point. She head to keep it together, had to–

She’d heard what she recognized to be the front door. Her blood froze in her veins. She didn’t know who it was, she had no idea who was behind all this. She had no clue where Jack was, if he even was part of this– her heart told her no, he couldn’t have, but at this point she had no way of knowing what was real or not, let alone what this all meant.

She couldn’t risk being found conscious. She was clearly being kept in a comatose state, treated as one such patient at least, and the fact that she’d woken up from that induced state was definitely not intended to happen.

She remembered what had happened before she woke up like this- she’d reached the infamous, off limits Victory Headquarters. Because a plane had crashed in that direction, and the trolley driver didn’t believe her nor wanted to take her there!

She’d made the trek all the way there… it’d taken her ages, in the scorching sun- and finally, finally, she’d reached the imposing building, in hopes of finding some help or at least some answers at that point!

Next thing she knew, she’d woken up strapped to this bed. Her bed, in her old bedroom, from her old life that had been stolen away from her!

She needed to gather as much information as possible, and the only way she could do that was to get back into that bed and pretend she never came to.

There was no other way.

She hurried as best she could, barely making it back to the bed, made sure she was laid out in the same outstretched position. By some miracle, the catheters were still in place, their respective bags on the floor by the foot of the bed. The hardest part was fixing whatever that contraption was over her face and around her eyes. It dug deep into her flesh and she remembered to wipe any traces of tears from her face when new ones began rolling down her face. She was surprised her body could even produce them with how parched she felt. She then inserted the needle back into her bruised vein– which was sure to get infected at this rate, whoever was doing this to her was amateur at best, or they didn’t much care to keep her alive. She didn’t know which prospect was worse. She slipped her wrists back through the strap loops, hoping it wouldn’t be obvious she’d gotten them a bit loose when she struggled her way out of them. 

And then she’d waited. And waited. And waited. All the while a bright red light scanned her eyeballs systematically, no doubt whatever was used to induce her into that trance or whatever it was that created the optimal parameters for the alternate reality to take place. She couldn’t even wrap her mind around it. She couldn’t even begin to understand how it worked- all she knew was that it was all too real to be just a dream. No. That was a controlled environment. The world simulation came to her again.

Her whole body froze as she’d heard the lock, then what she counted to be 3 other bolts on the bedroom door. She could only see directly above her, and that barely- but she could hear him when he came in. 

Smell him, even. 

And it wasn’t the smell of expensive cologne she’d grown used to, but a more familiar smell. A smell that felt more real, more ingrained in her subconscious- that of clothes he’d dug out of the laundry hamper to wear a few more times when everything else was too dirty even for his own standards, mixed with canned tuna and the faintest amount of deodorant that did nothing to mask the fact that he’d skipped showering for a day or two.

Her heart sank when she heard him hum to himself the song that had been stuck in her mind for ages- the one she’d been humming herself but couldn’t remember where she knew it from. This is where she knew it from. It’d been their song, in a way, a song he’d made up just for her.

“Darling, I… miss you all the time… Got you flowers, your favourite! Even that pesky Emma from the hospital remembers they’re your favourite. You’re so loved, hm? My precious girl.” She felt him sit on the edge of the bed and tried her best not to flinch when he leaned in to caress her cheek. “But I love you the most.”

She could feel her eyes well up with tears. Tears she couldn’t even blink away. 

He then started tending to her and she mustered up all of her willpower not to lurch at him when he’d gotten her out of her restraints- she knew she was no match for him, not in her weakened state by any means.

He was doing this to her. It was him! All while declaring his love for her. She felt her heart break into a million pieces, all the while forcing herself not to make any movements and break her cover. Not even when he cleaned her with wet wipes up and checked the catheters, emptying the waste bags. God- she wished she was dead. For a while she zoned out completely, much like rape victims. She just let it happen to her, dissociating from her body completely, mentally checking out.

He’d eventually poured what must’ve been eyedrops into her sockets and that brought her back to reality. Whatever reality was anymore…

And then… to her utter shock, she felt him get in bed next to her. The familiar clank of the device she’d placed back onto herself could be heard and she realized he was putting on the same headgear. 

He was… joining her? He was willingly putting himself through this? Sure, he wasn’t forced into it against his will, there was nobody strapping himself to the bed, nobody feeding him through an IV and treating him like a comatose patient.

But he was entering the simulation the same way she was. Through that headgear.

Is this what he did everyday while he was “at work”? Was this the infamously secret Victory Project that she couldn’t even ask him about- exiting that alternate reality and coming back here?

She heard him switch it on and then the whole room went dark before a projector of sorts played a familiar black and white scene on the ceiling, above the bed. She felt him interlace his fingers with hers and she was done for- she couldn’t fight it. Whatever this was, it was working fast, making her slip into unconsciousness almost immediately.

Followed directly after by her waking up in her other bedroom. Unrestrained. Nothing to force her eyes open. Clean. Rejuvenated even.

But scared shitless.

Traumatised.

Heartbroken.

She didn’t know how long she stood there, trying to make sense of it all in the darkness. Thankful to be able to move freely, thankful to feel like her old self, but well aware that it was all an illusion, that her real self was held hostage somewhere god knows where. Helpless, frail and alone.

She felt conflicted. Why was he doing this?! Why had he done this to her? She’d heard him say he loved her most. Heard he’d brought her flowers, even though she couldn’t even see them. Felt him tend to her, he was doing a lousy job at it but was keeping her alive and she could tell he was trying his best, being gentle, careful, thoughtful even when the reality was he didn’t have to. Not when, for all he knew, she was unconscious. 

This was insanity. 

There was no other explanation. No other justification. She understood the nuances- could see why this was- on paper- a better life. But it was fake! And most of all, it wasn’t her choice!

She’d been forced into it, against her will, without her even being aware of it! Her life had been robbed away from her. Her family, her friends, her hard work. The only common denominator… was Jack.

She didn’t know how to go about it, but if there was any chance of her escaping, she had to play dumb and pretend she knew nothing.

She wasn’t sure how she could face him knowing what she did, but she had to. She had to buy time, enough time until she could put her plan into motion. 

She didn’t know if she’d succeed, but she had to try. She had to. She had to escape, claim her life back, good or bad.

She got off the bed, marvelling at how strong and healthy she felt, as opposed to how she’d collapsed on the floor in her real body. That alone emboldened her, she had to go face the music.

And face the music she did. Jack had put a record on, blasting it at high volume with little consideration to her being asleep. No surprises there.

But as she approached the kitchen, she took in the sight of him… cooking. Or, trying to cook. 

Apparently, you couldn’t tweak everything in this alternate reality. Or maybe he didn’t care to fumble with his cooking skills. Because he’d definitely perfected some of his other skills–

“You’re awake!... I didn’t have time to set the table.”

“What’s going on?” She watched him scurry around the kitchen, trying to do a dozen things at once and failing. 

“Well, I’m making you dinner. Now, we were supposed to have five courses. Unfortunately, I think we’re down to about three.” 

She took note of the mess, especially the way something was about to catch on fire on the stove.

“That– don’t look at that. That course is officially off the menu.”

That’s when it clicked in her brain– the fucker had switched up his accent! He had a British accent here! Oh, she could laugh if she didn’t feel like murdering him. She reminded herself it wouldn’t be the real him she’d be murdering, though. No, for all she knew if she harmed him in any way here, she might end up trapped inside this simulation forever if her plan failed. Or until her real body died, with no one to tend for it, even as poorly as he was, in the real world.

She had to thread carefully. “What happened?”

“I got a little aggressive with the seasoning.”

“How long have you been home?”

“Uh, a few hours.” He proceeded to make even more of a mess in his attempt to jump from one dish to the next. “Okaaay. Nope. Don’t look at that. That’s– Okay, so I’m making that roast, you know the one you made for my birthday? Only with a few changes…”

“I was here when you got here?” 

“Yeah. Asleep in the bedroom. Do you put carrots in a roast?”

“How did I get home?” That was a reasonable question. Last thing she knew of this reality was she’d reached the Headquarters. She needed to know if anyone knew about it.

“Trolley, I think.”

“Wait, so he came out and got me?!”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Jack, I got off the trolley. I saw a plane crash.”

“Alice, I think I would’ve heard if there was a plane crash.”

“No, Jack, I saw it…”

“They tend to be rather loud…”

“... and I started walking–”

“–and hard to miss.”

It was dawning on her that she wasn’t going to milk any info on this out of him. He was going to pretend the plane never crashed, of course, whatever that even meant for this simulation. Or maybe the plane crashing was only visible to her version of this altered reality. She couldn’t know for sure. But he seemed unconcerned otherwise. She didn’t think he knew she’d gone there. She really must’ve re-entered right back into the bedroom, after all, she, along with all the other women, were never meant to go up there, the Headquarters were off-limits.

Meaning that was probably from where the men entered. Since they were the only ones who came and left. The women were probably all bound to their own respective beds back in the real world, they were never meant to leave the simulation. It made sense why she’d found herself back in the house- where she belonged. And it made sense if that was where the man entered and exited since that’s where they all allegedly went everyday for “work”.

Her heart sank at the realization that it was highly probable that all the other women were victims, just like her. Unless everything and everyone else was a simulation around them.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

She tried not to flinch when Jack finally noticed she’d zoned out whilst trying to process all of this, and touched her shoulder, taking a better look at her.

“No…I don’t know–I’m not…”

Before she could react, he pulled her into his arms. That smell of expensive cologne hit her again, overriding the smell of stale clothes and canned tuna from her recent memory. And his embrace felt so familiar, so comforting, that for a moment she allowed herself to pretend like this was the person she knew to love her. The person she couldn’t wait to come back home from work everyday. The person that made her smile and laugh and moan and cry tears of happiness. She knew him well, she loved him with all her heart. And she was reluctant to accept that this man was the same that was keeping her strapped against the bed. Because that was the reality of it. 

But this version of Jack that was holding her felt so real as well…

“I had a really weird dream. A really weird dream…”

“I’m sorry.”

Her heart sank. Was he, sorry? She buried her face deeper into his chest and held her breath, stifling a sob as tears flooded her eyes immediately. She wanted to break down in his arms and ask him why he’d done this. She wanted to give him a chance to explain himself. Wanted for him to somehow, magically, make it all better.

But she knew there was no way for him to do it. There was nothing he could say or do to justify what he’d done to her, even if his intentions didn’t seem as evil as they truly were to him.

Because she knew Jack. She knew he’d probably convinced himself somehow that this was the only way out of the miserable life they were living- and be it as it were, it was her life! He’d had no right to steal it from her like that. 

“Do you know what weird dreams make me? Hungry.” He fed her a carrot he was holding jokingly then turned her around as she chewed absentmindedly, her mind racing, still taking in the reality of what her life was. Or the alternate reality, more like it.

Jack cupped her face, searching her eyes and declared solemnly, “Alice, I want to be honest with you about something.”

She almost choked on the carrot she was chewing on. Was he–

“I don’t think these mashed potatoes are gonna work.”

She swallowed, a bitter taste in her mouth at her naivete. “That’s because you need to boil them first, baby…”

“I knew it… I knew there was a step missing. Such an idiot,” he smiled bashfully.

She laughed at that. A manic laugh, but he didn’t seem to notice. Not at how incompetent he was at such a basic life skill- who the hell tries to mash raw potatoes?!- but at how hopeful she’d been for a moment there, believing he was about to confess everything just like that, out of the blue.

“Let me put a pot on…”

“No, no, no–”

“Come on, let me–”

“Make us some drinks. Relax.” He pulled her out of the kitchen and into the lounge, declaring “I am your chef tonight!”

Lord knew she desperately needed a drink at this point, so she sighed heavily, getting to it, when he stopped her in her tracks, “hey!”

“Hm?”

“You love me?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. She replied like she used to, back in the real world. Something she didn’t remember ever doing here, but it just came to her by reflex now that her memory of her past life had come back to her fully. And for some reason that she couldn’t explain, she meant it, still. “The most.”

Jack seemed pleased with her answer, and resumed his ‘cooking’. Alice turned to the whiskey bottle and downed two doubles, one after the other. 

How was she ever going to get free when her stupid heart had meant what she said?

She couldn’t allow herself to be fooled by this false reality any longer. Couldn’t allow to slip into his arms again and pretend he loved her when this was anything but love. 

So she waited. Waited until he fell asleep that night (thankfully all the “cooking” had seemingly tired him out and he didn’t try anything)- praying this meant he was truly asleep.

Got dressed, tiptoed out of the house and geared up for a long journey to the Headquarters. She couldn’t risk taking the car and waking him or the neighbours up, alerting them with this unusual behaviour. There weren't any trolleys late at night by any means- everyone was sound asleep.

Everyone but her.

She was no longer asleep.

A/N: i've been meaning to get to this for the longest while! hopefully it scratches some itches we've been left with. i had fun writing this first part. more to come 👀

💕 like & reblog if you enjoyed this, lovelies, and most importantly, please come share your thoughts on it here 💌

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[jamespotterismydaddy]

Nymphets

daemon x rhaenyra x alicent

A/N: This was a request so i hope you enjoy! I don't usually do character x character but new things haha

WARNINGS: smut, threesome, overstim, incest

WORD COUNT: 954 words

To him, it was an exquisite sight to behold, the sight of Alicent and Rhaenyra trying desperately to get each other off. Both girls are clearly untouched with the way they desperately rub their cunnys against one another. They look so frustrated, the poor sweet girls… and Daemon just wants to help.

“I wonder what your fathers would think if they saw this sight.” Daemon walks around the corner into Rhaenyra’s bedchamber. The girls scramble off each other and try to cover themselves with blankets.

“Daemon!”

“M-My prince!”

They both squeal out at the same time. The two girls are so flustered and humiliated and wet but he’ll make them feel better.

“Please don’t tell my father.” Alicent begs and he chuckles.

“But you’ve both been such naughty little girls.” He tsks.

“Kepus, don’t be cruel.” Rhaenyra pleads.

“Then don’t be such a little brat when I was just about to offer you both my help.”

“Your help, my prince?” Alicent asks, looking up at him with her big soft doe eyes. She looks ever so innocent and demure.

“I watched for a few moments before I came in. You seemed to be struggling, pet.”

“We weren’t struggling!” Rhaenyra protests, clearly jealous along with her embarrassment. Daemon walks over to the side of the bed she’s on and slaps the side of her thigh. She squeaks.

“Don’t be such a brat.” He grabs her chin in his hand. “Do you want my help or not?”

She stubbornly doesn’t answer so Alicent cuts in. “We do… my prince.”

“Call me Daemon while we are alone here, pet.” She nods timidly after he speaks. “Now lie back. I’m going to show Rhaenyra how to take care of you.”

Alicent’s cheeks get very red as she lies back, wanting to cover herself when Daemon spreads her legs. “No need to be so modest.” He looks to Rhaenyra. “Watch closely, niece.”

Both girls are surprised when he goes down to kiss her cunt. They didn’t even know that was something that could be done. Alicent mewls when he starts to work his tongue against her. She grips the bedsheets with one hand and Rhaenyra’s hand with the other. Rhaenyra watches closely to her friend’s reactions to every single one of her uncle’s movements.

“I want to try.”

Daemon smiles. “Get to work then.” He says as he parts his mouth from the Hightower girl, watching eagerly as his niece takes his place.

With her upper half pressed to the bed and her hips so high in the air, Daemon takes the opportunity to play with his little niece’s wet cunt as she eats out her friend. Alicent’s hips buck a little against Rhaenyra’s mouth as she gets closer and closer to finishing, her hands now in the Targaryen’s hair.

“I feel something strange…” Alicent murmurs.

“I know you do. Let go.” Daemon coos, running his fingers through her hair as he continues to finger fuck his niece. 

Rhaenyra whimpers against Alicent’s cunny as Daemon rubs at her clit and it sends Alicent over the edge. She lets out gentle moans of her friend’s name as she writhes against the bed.

“Good girls.” Daemon praises as Alicent shifts up the bed so Rhaenyra’s face is no longer pressed into her cunt. Daemon keeps his niece down with a firm hand on her back so he can continue to bring her to her peak as well.

“Mmm, kepus.” She whimpers out as he moves his fingers roughly. He takes his hand off of her back and grabs her hair, pulling her head up so she has to look at her friend.

“Look at Alicent when you cum.” He commands, liking the forced intimacy of it all.

The actions, the words, it all sends her over the edge. She keeps eye-contact as she creams around his fingers.

“Lie back now, next to her.” Daemon says.

He spreads his niece’s legs, tugging at his own cock to prepare himself.

“I-I need a moment first.” Rhaenyra says.

Daemon chuckles. “You’ll be able to handle it.” 

He pushes into her slowly and begins to rub at her pearl right away. She squirms and tries to push away but Alicent soothes her, petting her hair and kissing her face.

“That’s it.” Daemon murmurs as he begins to thrust into her. “Fucking take it.”

Rhaenyra whines as he rubs her clit harder, fucking her harder in tandem. With Alicent playing with her tits as they kiss sloppily, it’s enough to put her over the edge. She squeezes around her uncle’s cock, cumming all over it but he doesn’t stop.

“Too… too much.” She whines as he pounds into her.

“You can handle it.”

“I can’t.” She pleads.

He sighs. “Sweet spoiled brat.” He pulls out. “Come here, pet.” He gestures to Alicent and she crawls over slowly. “You have another lesson to learn about pleasing men.”

“What is it?” She asks.

“Take me in your mouth and you’ll see.”

She looks ever so nervous but she takes his cock in her mouth, suckling it slightly.

“That’s it, baby. Mover your head a little.” Daemon says as the girl sucks him off. “You can practice too.” He says to Rhaenyra before bringing up his hand and pushing his fingers between her lips.

He tries his hardest not to but he can’t help how he starts to fuck Alicent’s mouth. The way she gags and gargles just makes it all that much better. When he feels himself getting close to cumming, he pulls out and spills over both of the girl’s faces.

“What a lovely sight.” He says to the kneeling nymphets. “Come up now. I think it’s time we get the two of you into the bath.”

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi @ravenclawprincess33

[elihermit]

lost in the memories

pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley x fem!reader

summary: after the incident at work where Buck had to rescue you, you ended up in coma and relieved every moment of your relationship with Buck

word count: 2,1k

note from the writer: i’m so excited to finally share my first imagine with you! i’m taking requests 🫧

Breath in and breathe out. That’s what Buck always said when you start panicking and feel anxious. But today this panic was not over missing a deadline for your task at work, it wasn’t something you could easily fix.

You work as a psychologist who helps your patients get through the trauma of the past and find the strength to move on.

The day started as usual: morning kisses and cuddles with Buck, breakfast, I love you's, and you both went to work. But then everything is just blank, you didn't even get a chance to take your first patient or maybe you did? You can’t even remember.

You woke up at your apartment, cuddling your favorite toy, you got it when you were 9 years old and since then — it’s your lucky charm. You look at your screen to check the time — “8am”. Good, you have time to grab the breakfast at your favorite spot.

Brush your teeth, shower, get dressed, put on some makeup and you’re ready to go.

“Good morning, (Y/N)! Let me guess, latte with raspberry syrup and English breakfast?” — it was Alice, the waitress in your favorite spot. You go here almost every day and you truly can say that she became your friend.

“Good morning, Alice! Yes, you know I can’t start my day without you teasing me and my favorite coffee to get through this.” — you can’t help but smile, she really knows how to highlight your day.

“Of course.” — Alice smiled. “How many patients do you have today? I think I need to make you two coffees.” — she remembered when yesterday you had 5 patients and you came back to the cafe to buy one extra coffee. You loved your job, but sometimes it was too much even for your professional head. Poor people, they don’t deserve to live with all of those traumas.

“Yes please. You’re an angel!” — you gave her a grateful look and agreed on her offer.

Now you have 30 minutes to eat your breakfast and the place was so packed, you were lucky to take the table the moment you walked into the cafe.

About halfway through enjoying your breakfast and making your schedule for tomorrow, you heard someone approaching you.

“Excuse me, I’m so sorry for disturbing you, but could I please sit with you? There’s no empty table and I think I will actually go nuts if I don’t eat.” — you raise your head and it was the most gorgeous man you have ever laid your eyes on. Pretty blue eyes, brown hair and the body of Greek God. Fuck, you stared too long, gotta answer quickly.

“Of course. I got you, this morning anger because of being hungry is not very cutesy.” — you laughed and pointed at the seat in front of you.

“Oh my god, yes! Thank you so much, my co-workers just got saved from my rudeness by…” — he sat down and didn’t finish his sentence so you could tell him your name.

“I’m (Y/N), nice to meet you. Happy to help, we don’t want to give your co-workers some traumas.” — you chuckled. God, you can’t forget about your work even when you have free time.

“That’s very true.” — he laughed. “I’m Evan, but you can call me Buck.” — the way he smiled… This image definitely won’t leave your head.

Suddenly, everything went dark. It’s like there was only one lamp that shined on your table. Buck started crying. You never heard any man cry like this. So much pain, desperation and suffering. With his head on his hands, you could see how his shoulders trembled with every cry.

He raised his head and looked into your eyes with so much sadness.

“Please, come back to me.”

Darkness. You move your finger. Why can you move ONLY your finger? What’s going on? It doesn’t feel right. You can’t see, you can’t move, you can’t speak and hear. Just darkness.

You open the door. Here he is, in all of his glory. Your partner, your love, your friend and your boyfriend in one person.

“Okay, I got every snack you like, you ready for our movie night?” — there’s a big bag of goods in front of Buck and he’s smiling like The Cheshire Cat.

You smile and pull him into the kiss. The sweetest kiss you have ever had. The best lips you have ever tasted. You already knew it would end up being Netflix & Chill.

“I missed you so much.” — you say into his lips and he gives you one more kiss before leading you to the couch.

You sat on the couch immediately getting trapped in his embrace. You didn’t mind at all. There’s no place in the world where you would rather be.

“Did you pick a movie? It’s your turn today, baby.” — you loved your tradition when at least 2-3 times a week you have movie nights. Last time you watched a movie called… You actually can’t remember, making love to each other sounded better after 15 minutes into the movie.

“Yes.” — he makes you look into his face. “Come back to me.”

Darkness. What the fuck is going on? You can feel you squeeze someone’s hand but you can’t see anything. Is that some kind of dream? More like a nightmare actually. Why are you getting pulled out of the most happiest moments of your life?

Buck. You feel so scared without him, you feel so alone. You want to scream “I’m here!”, but not a single word comes out of your mouth. That must be some kind of horrible joke.

You look into the mirror one more time and notice Buck staring at you with a smile.

“Okay, baby, first of all — you know you can stare and touch.” — you said with a smirk and Buck immediately made his way over you. He put his hands on your waist and yours gently fell on his neck. “Secondly, remind me again why we’re gathering in the middle of the week?”

You took a day off, because Buck was convincing you that no one has any other free day and only today they can all meet up together. Honestly, you loved being at Bobby’s and Athena’s house, especially when everyone was there too. Eddie with Christopher, Hen with Karen, Chim with Maddie. It’s like having a second family and you were grateful that they accepted you and loved you as much as Buck loves you.

“(Y/N), I told you it’s the only day when everyone is actually free.” — he said and kissed you. “And to be honest, I just wanted one more day off for you, you were working your ass off past weeks.”

True. For some reason you took more patients than usual and it was exhausting two weeks. Buck is always worried when you overwork yourself, so you didn’t hesitate long when he asked you to take a day off, you felt like you needed that too.

The evening was going great. Everyone is talking, laughing, dancing and eating. It was the most fun days when you all meet up together and Buck knew you loved it. So when Buck asked everyone to give him a little attention, you giggled, because usually it was the beginning of Buck doing something funny.

“Yeah, I know you all are probably expecting me to do a back flip.” — everyone laughed. “But today is a bit different. Not gonna lie, probably it was the hardest task in my life to keep everything a secret.” — you furrowed your brows, what secret?

But Buck continued.

“(Y/N), can you stand next to me, please?” — you’re confused, but you did what he asked. “My love, I know you’re confused and probably thinking that I had too many drinks. And I might be drunk, but I’m drunk in love. The moment I saw you in that cafe, I knew I couldn’t lose you. Honestly, the waitress said that there will be an empty table in 5 minutes, but I still chose to sit with you. Because how could I not?”

You started to realize. Is he… proposing? The love of your life is proposing to you?

“Buck…” — you could feel tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

“Baby, I can’t imagine my life without you and can’t even remember my life before you, that’s how well you filled all the missing pieces. So…” — Buck got on one knee, pulled a pretty little velvet box out of his pocket and asked the most important question that you didn’t even know you needed to hear. “Will you make me the happiest man alive and be my wife?” — you froze, tears started streaming down your cheeks. All the love you had for Buck just got 10 times stronger.

“Yes!” — you smiled happily and fell on your knees to kiss Buck.

He pulled the ring out of the box, carefully placing it on your finger and looked into your eyes.

“Then please, (Y/N)… Come back to me.”

Darkness. Honestly, you’re getting tired of this. You either died or got trapped in the most fucked up dream. And knowing that you don’t really have dreams, there’s only one option left. Are you actually dying? This can’t be real, right?

In the past 3 years your life has finally fallen into the right places. You met Buck, work was going great, you’re supposed to marry the love of your life… You cannot miss that. “Till death do us apart” doesn’t mean that you have to die so soon. You need to come back!

“My love, I know you probably don’t hear me, but I can’t do it without you.” — you heard the echo in this pitch blackness. It was Buck. “We had so much ahead of us, do you remember? We wanted to buy the house, I wanted to surprise you with the best honeymoon, we wanted to start trying on our own bab-“ — his voice broke, you heard sobs.

Your breathing has become heavier. You could feel your chest rising. Can you just open your eyes? You can’t leave Buck like this, you can’t leave your new family. You need to come back, you had so much ahead of you. Wedding, kids, travels, joy, being a wife and mother.

You heard another echo.

“Please, baby, just please come back to me…”

NOW! YOU NEED TO WAKE UP!

You could feel your eyes trembling. Darkness was replaced by white light. Heaven? There is definitely no smell of medicines in heaven.

Slowly, you open your eyes. So slow that it doesn't scare away reality.

The first image you see when you open your eyes and move your head to your right is Buck. He squeezes your hand with his head almost on the hospital bed. He’s still sobbing. It broke your heart into a million pieces. He didn’t deserve to go through this.

“Buck…” — you whisper. You can’t talk any louder, because your mouth is so dry. But he heard you.

Buck raised his head and met your eyes. You’re awake. You’re actually awake. One moment he was in hell, now he’s praising God for bringing you back.

“You came back…” — he smiled with his puffy eyes.

“How could I not? I heard you wanted me back at least four times.” — you chuckled tiredly, making jokes was your defense mechanism against difficulties.

“I thought I lost you, these 4 days were the hardest time of my entire life…” — he wanted to continue, but you interrupted him.

“4 days? W-what happened?” — you couldn’t believe it, you were out for 4 days.

“The building where you work collapsed. There was a mistake made when designing the building and it just fucking collapsed. I found you under the concrete slabs.”

Of course he was the one who rescued you. Your hero. On one hand you were happy that it’s him who saved you, but on the other he probably blames himself for not doing more, for not providing the proper safety. But let’s be honest, he did everything he could and you’re so grateful for that.

“Thank you for saving me.” — tears falling down your cheeks and you’re just happy to be back to him. To your lifeline.

He didn’t say anything, just got up and placed the most gentle kiss on your lips. Almost like he was afraid he could break you and you would vanish, that’s why you placed your hand on his cheek as a confirmation that you’re really here with him.

“So, what’s the best honeymoon you wanted to surprise me with?” — you said into his lips.

“You really heard everything?” — he asked confusedly, you giggled and kissed him once more.

Time to make more memories together.

[maybeiwasjustjade]

The amount of morons I’ve seen on twitter that insist ‘a son for a son’ is still owed because Jaehaerys wasn’t Alicent’s son, so Rhaenyra somehow has rights to Aegon’s head is baffling.

Actually, scratch that. It’s not baffling at all, because this isn’t the first time I’ve seen such braindead takes from that side of the fandom.

Last I checked, Aemond killed Luke. Not Aegon. Alicent served up Aegon’s head on a platter, without even once considering that should Aemond live then Rhaenyra will come for his head too. And not only did she betray Aegon, Alicent’s actions may very well lead to both Gwayne and Criston’s deaths. And Daeron, who has done nothing but be born to her.

As for the stupidity of the insistence on ‘a son for a son’, maybe Condal and Hess should remember that the last time Rhaenyra sought revenge for Luke, a toddler was beheaded in his bed because of her husband!!! And if that son wasn’t enough—the poor, innocent baby son of Helaena—and a debt still needs to be repaid, does that mean Aegon now has rights to kill one of Daemon’s children then?

Same logic right? Rhaenyra didn’t get Alicent’s son’s head for Luke, but Aegon lost a son. So if Rhaenyra has rights to Aegon’s head, then Aegon has the exact same right to murder one of her remaining children yes? Baela maybe, when Aegon claims Dragonstone. Or Joffrey even, should he survive till the end. Maybe Rhaenyra can even choose and then watch, like Daemon made Helaena.

But that’s not right is it. Aegon would be a monster if he did that. No sane person would do that. No good person should want that kind of revenge.

But when it comes to Rhaenyra, TB will justify anything right? She indirectly yet directly causes the deaths of nearly 100 dragonseeds—oh that’s fine, they consented to being in the pit knowing they could die! She’s not responsible at all! It’s not as if she ensured they couldn’t escape right? The death of a toddler wasn’t enough because it wasn’t the right son, so of course she gets to ask for another too.

As if Jaehaerys wasn’t worth a life at all. Then again, what can be expected when even after his death, in a fight about his murder, she only ever refers to him as ‘boy’, ‘child’, and my favorite: ‘it’.

Rhaenyra was always going to have to kill Aegon for the throne. And that was at minimum, unless she went for Aemond too. Daeron I could see being spared by being given to the Faith or the Maesters. It was very, very, very obvious to anyone with even a shred of media comprehension (which seems to be very little given the amount of stupid comments I’ve seen). The issue is that she had to go on and make it very clear that Aegon will die, not for taking her throne or whatnot, but as penance for Luke dying. That is where she crosses the line. She can’t and won’t spare Aegon, but the least she could do was not be a lying liar about it.

Also: I never subscribed to the theory that Alicent will be the one to poison Aegon in the end, because I never considered that a mother would be so cruel to do so. She ruined his life; placed him on this goddawful path to war that he never wanted. The least she could do was not betray her own son that way. But after today? Not a chance in hell she won’t be the one to kill him for her precious Rhaenyra. I hope when all is said and done, and she’s locked in a tower for the rest of her life, she knows that it was all her fault.

Because F&B made it clear that Aegon had a legitimate claim. Is it a usurpation if by all laws and tradition he’s the rightful heir? The show decided to go the idiotic route of making it an outright usurpation. The Dance was inevitable in F&B. Here, it seems to have been caused purposely, with one of its leading causes becoming a major turncloak. And it’s sad really, because the Dance has barely even started. HOTD could’ve waited to make Alicent a traitor. Wait until the Gullet and Jace and Rhaenyra’s inevitable fall to madness, to make Alicent’s plea more realistic because it happens when the Greens look like they are losing. Instead, they did this. Unbelievable.

[axelsagewrites]

Hello, dear reader. I'd like to make a wish for Rhaenyra's little sister, maybe a year or two. And she never liked Alicent, who after marrying the king tries (along with Otto) to demote her to bastard status (but Viserys loves his little girl too much to do this to her). Of course, things get even worse when Rhaenyra's sister gets engaged to Harwin...

Thank you for your attention, I like your stories 🫶🏻. Another thing, can I stop by more often? I wish I had more of my ideas adorned with your writing

Harwin Strong*Suitable Match

Pairing: Harwin x f!reader

Word count: 1320

Warnings: Step parent hating step child, secret relationship, kind of implied smut

a/n: ahh thank u sm for being so sweet and ofc request as much or talk however much u want. sorry i didnt reply sooner i just didnt want to lose the request x

Masterlist Here

A life of a princess was something to envy. Well so many had claimed however after the death of your mother life felt like an ever falling spiral. Your sister began to grow closer to Alicent after the death and while you were happy for her to have a friend Alicent had always been unkind to you.

It had started small with her asking Rhaenyra not to let you join in their games to her unpicking your needle work whenever you would wander off to stretch your legs. Soon you gave up on even trying to be nice to her. anytime she was invited to dinner was met with loud sighs from you.

“Why does she hate me?” you pouted one night as Rhaenyra upbraided your hair.

Your sister rolled her eyes as she began to brush your hair out, “She doesn’t hate you. she’s just not used to a little sister,”

“She’s mean,”

“Cmon she isn’t that bad?”

-

You didn’t want to say I told you so when Alicent was betrothed to your father but the look on your face said it for you. at least Rhaenyra was able to marry and move away. you were instead stuck living at court with your evil stepmother and her spawn. Well, the children were kind to you, but Alicent constantly used them to get under your skin.

She’d send toddler Aegon running over with pretend crown shouting that he was going to be king. Or she would have a 2-year-old Aemond claim he was your husband. She tried to make Helena spill wine on your dress one time, but the poor girl burst into tears and confessed to you instantly.

Instead Alicent settled on insisting that your chambers were given to Aegon. Something you managed to convince your father against from at first but soon you were moved to a wing of the castle usually just for guests. You would’ve complained about longer if you hadn’t realised your new chambers window overlooked the kings guard training ground.

From your window you’d pretend to be doing needle work while secretly watching break bones fling any man that challenged him like a rag doll. Eventually Harwin caught onto your staring and would send his own glimpses up between sparring. It was also handy that your chamber was only a short walk from the guards’ sleeping quarters and Harwin soon became a frequent private guest of yours.

-

“Ser Barros is coming to court next week,” your father told you over a family dinner, “and I heard his son is looking for a wife,” he said, shooting you a hopeful glance.

“I heard he’s a fine man father,” you said kindly knowing full well it didn’t matter. Somehow every match they tried to make for you was sabotaged. The tall dark Baratheon boy was ever so keen for weeks for your hand then one day disappeared like a ghost. The gorgeous Lannister man that would bring you fine jewels suddenly decided a dornish match was of more importance. Even the Tarly boy you had courted had inexplicitly decided to join the nights watch. Every time Alicent wore the same twisted smile.

The only ones she didn’t send running were the incredibly old and decrepit looking men from minor houses, but it wasn’t hard to convince your father they weren’t suitable matches. “Perhaps we should set up a luncheon to great the boy,” Alicent suggested making your father smile widely. She really had twisted him around her finger.

-

“I wish I could stay here all day,” you pouted as you lay your head on Harwin’s bare chest.

His chuckle vibrated through you as his arm wrapped tight around your waist, “Me too princess but I have my duties and you have yours,”

“I thought your duty was to serve me,” you sighed dramatically, pretending to try get away.

Harwin laughed, his arms moving to cage you against the bed as he moved to lay over you, “I think I serve you just fine princess,” he said, his lips moving to kiss along your jaw.

“Oh yeah?” you asked and Harwin hummed in response as his kisses grew lower.

-

As expected Borros’s son went running after only a week and now you were in another awkward family dinner however unluckily for you the children all had the cold so now you were sat in stoney silence with just your father and Alicent. “You should really think about your future dear,” she said with a fake sweet smile, “We worry for you,”

Instead of replying you grabbed your wine, drinking a hefty sip of it. Viserys sighed, “Alicent is right dear. You must marry. At this point we’re going to have to start considering marrying you to a tree!” he said, flinging himself back in his chair. “Honestly what even happened between you and the boy?”

-

The days that followed were awkward to say the least. Alicent walked around smug as all hell and your father continued to sulk. You decided enough was enough and when Alicent went out to the sept you decided to track your father down. Unsurprisingly you found him staring over a model of the city.

“Father?” you greeted, walking closer to the tired looking man, “May we talk?”

“Of course, sweet child,” he said, nodding for you to sit beside him before sighing, “You know I worry for you?”

“I do father, and I do appreciate it,” you lied but did your best to look sympathetic to your clueless father, “but I was thinking. Well. I found another match you see father,” you spoke, and his head perked up as he waited for you to finally spit it out, “He’s sweet and kind and his family is well respected. You even like his father, and I was just thinking- “

“Out with-it child,”

You took a breath before finally asking, “Have you considered Harwin Strong yet father?” Viserys sighed, his eyes turning away but you continued, “Think about it! I’d be able to be at court and help Helena with her studies. Plus, you have four more children so four more matches. You already have the Velaryon which secures the crownlands. Harwin and I would secure the Riverlands. Then after you betrothed Helena, Aegon, Aemond, and Daeron you will have six of the seven kingdoms on your side. Your reach will go far especially if our children do the same,”

“You want to dilute the blood of old Valyria?” he asked, sounding exhausted as he spoke.

“No father, only strengthen it,” you said, moving to hold his hand, “Besides there is no other Targaryen or Velaryon to wed unless uncle daemon is brought back from exile- “you said but your father raised his hand to hush you.

He paused for a moment before nodding, “I will think about it. but for now, leave me. I have a lot to consider,”

“Thank you, father,”

-

Apparently Alicent must have missed this chamber meeting because somehow the news came back finally in your favour. Harwin would be your husband. You were so happy when your father told you that you instantly hugged him before rushing to find Harwin however that night at dinner Alicent shot you many dirty looks.

Finally, you had undermined her. you’d won. Well, that’s how it felt at first, but her glares began to sink into your skin till it itched. As the dinner ended, she tapped her cup with her fork, “A toast to my dear sweet daughter,” she smiled at you making your father beam, “May she have a marriage like ours,” she said, holding his hand tightly but you felt your stomach flutter.

“Here, here,” your father said, standing to kiss your cheek.

Alicent did the same, her arms twisting round your back into a bony hug, “Do not forget yourself darling,” she whispered sweetly in your ear, “You don’t win that easily,”

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @starkleila @jacesvelaryons

[anxiousnerdwritings]

What about after criston comforted his baby, baby reader starts to warm up to him giving him adorable smiles that warm his heart and than actually starts to bond with him. Cue yandere Harwin and yandere rheanrya pissed off wanting wipe that cocky smirk off cristons face. Meanwhile the queen is overjoyed for him

Okay so I really like the idea of the Reader picking flowers and giving them to her favorite Kingsguards, servants and of course her family. And Rhaenyra usually accompanying her little darling, adoringly watching how serious her baby is about choosing only the best flowers for the ones she has taken a liking to most. But after that fateful night, the next time Rhaenyra and her beloved child go about the routine flower picking, the Reader ends up with one more than usual. When asked about it and having her precious child looking up at her so happily and innocently as she says it’s for Criston leaves Rhaenyra’s heart absolutely sinking.

It would be even worse for Rhaenyra if her child didn’t actually tell her who the extra flower was for, instead telling her it was a secret and then Rhaenyra later seeing Criston proudly wearing that exact same flower. It would be far too much for Rhaenyra’s comfort having her child beginning to grow attached to Criston. It would be so much worse if her beloved little princess was growing close to Alicent too. It was one thing for the Reader to befriend and get close to Aegon, Helaena, Aemond and Daeron but Criston and Alicent herself were far too much for Rhaenyra to accept given that she knows those two have ulterior motives in particular.

Harwin on the other hand has always been ready to throw hands at any given time, especially with Criston, so when he sees Criston also proudly showing off a flower that could have only been given by one person, Harwin can’t help himself but to confront him. Depending on how much animosity comes from it, Harwin may very well just rip Criston’s flower right off of him. Criston of all people certainly doesn’t deserve such a gift from the Reader and Harwin plans to ensure he never gets anything more from the precious princess ever again.

I’m just consumed by the image of Harwin and Criston literally wrestling it out, violently grabbing at each other and trying to rip each other’s respective flowers off one another. Imagine the Reader’s reaction if she witnessed them fighting, especially if the flowers she had given them were to get damaged in the process. I could see both Criston and Harwin stoping right away, clambering to get up, profusely apologizing and blaming one another like little kids but all princess!Reader can do is mourn the poor flowers that were massacred in the process. Afterward, the Reader wouldn’t speak to or even look at the two again. Nor would they be getting flowers again either. At least until the Reader could feel like she could trust them again.

[its-actually-minicika]

Hi, love your works so much! Can't wait for more updates 🥰🥰 I was wondering maybe you'd like the idea where book!Aemond and Velarion!(Strong?)Reader are in an arranged marriage. But Reader just knows what to say and how to act so that Aemond is wrapped around her finger (kinda thought of Margaery and Joffrey situation, she was such a talented schemer, worthy of winning the Throne 😭). I don't really know about the setting, like if it's before, during or after the Dance... just thought it'd be interesting to see this kind of plot with our beloved Prince 🤴🏼🐉

If you don't like it, just ignore me 🙈

Dragon Sickness (18+)

Pairing: bookcanon!Aemond x Strong!Niece!Reader

Warnings: No usage of (Y/N), Greens win AU, bookcanon Greens, the obvious Targaryen incest, mentions of major character deaths (we're entering spoiler grounds, but not really), blood, gore etc.

Word Count: 3.5K+

Author's Note: I fell in love with this idea the moment I saw it! I ended up altering the plot line for this one-shot a little bit - the reader will definitely grow into the Margaery architype, but today you shall see her as she was when she just learned how to make ends meet with her newfound life at Court.

I don't know if I should turn this into yet another series, but if you guys enjoyed this, let me know

Also, thank you so, so much for your kind words ♡ i'm hugging you to the moon and back!

PART 2 IS OUT NOW ♡♡♡

Who could ever blame you for your indiscreet acts? Alliances change when the world you know suddenly turns upside down.

She remembered how weak she was. How scared she had been.

How her eyes widened into two brown specs of uncertainty, how her mouth fell agape, as she mulled over Alicent’s words.

‘You shall marry Aemond within the next moon turns. For the good of the Realm.’

The Dowager Queen had openly admitted to being against the match – of course, the prospect of her perfect son, married off to a lowly bastard of Rhaenyra's (otherwise said, her last surviving child), didn’t specifically thrill her. Much less her demanding and scornful father.

Still, it couldn’t be helped. And if the Velaryon wanted to keep her head away from a spike, she had no other choice but to comply.

Although… she wasn’t a Velaryon now, was she? Aegon the Usurper made sure of that.

His final gift to her was to strip her of all her titles. She had been openly declared a bastard – before the masses, before the Court.

With a wide smile upon his burnt lips, the “King” had told her she’d be a Targaryen instead. Driftmark wouldn’t matter, her legacy wouldn’t matter. Aemond would inherit the seat with the Usurper’s blessing, as a homage brought to his able fighting and his shown bravery on the bloody battlefield.

Never mind that he’d never partaken in a fight; save for the one that killed her stepfather, Daemon, and sent her poor mother in a downward spiral. Aemond had chosen his adversaries wisely, and managed to go through the whole war without as much of a scratch upon his silver armour.

‘I shan’t marry your son. Not now, not ever.’ Her own voice rang out.

‘You will do exactly as demanded.’

‘I would rather die than bear the treacherous children of that monstrous beast.’

A monstrous beast. That is what Aemond was.

And that is what he shall remain. No matter how many gifts he brought to her. No matter how many hours of their days and days in their weeks and weeks in their months they spent promenading those ghastly gardens.

‘You will if you know your best interests. Your own head may hold no value to you, but a single swing of my son’s sword would be enough to bring forth the ruin of House Blackwood.’

At first, she’d been restless in her attempts to escape the Keep. Her every waking hour was spent shamelessly inside the Sept, where she prayed not for the safety of her brothers’ souls, but for revenge against the mutted Greens.

The slight breeze of the cathedral mended her flesh from the heat of summer. And no one dared to approach or talk to her. The quietness was a welcomed deed.

During the first night of their betrothal, her glossy eyes scanned Aemond’s face. His hands wantonly gripped at his thighs and a slight twitch of his mouth, accompanied by an elongated hum escaped his lips.

There was no other discernable expression. And when he led her to the chambers of her early girlhood, he merely bowed and kissed her hand.

She spent the first night of their betrothal scraping her knuckles so harshly, that they broke and cracked under the stimulation of the cold water.

Her thirst for vengeance ceased after the first two months. Her wedding date was approaching swiftly, and she found herself faced with the abhorrent truth. She had no allies. No more friends at Court. The girl had shut herself in her tiny room, losing her mind with the pain and grief that flooded her at night: the faces of her mother, her brothers, her father. The sound of their screams and their endless pleas for help.

Every night, without a fail, she woke up tormented by nightmares – her throat burning with absolving shrieks of fear, exacerbated breaths of air and flimsy nightdresses, damp throughout by breaks of sweat.

The first night she lashed out onto her bedding was the night she found out Aemond had moved his Quarters next to hers. He yanked the door open and stepped into the light of her candle – looking ravished, completely out of breath and startled. Started not for his own accord and safety, but for the state that his future wife had been in.

‘Shit, it’s alright, I’m here–’

The echo of his mellow voice deterred her to let out a blood-curdling scream, that would have rivalled even the one of the late Queen Rhaenyra, after Aegon the Usurper ceased her at Dragonstone, and reeled his dragon to eat her whole.

‘Get the fuck away from me! Get the fuck out of my room!’

Her sobs pierced into the man’s heart, but his hurt expression was masked quickly with one most bitter and taciturn. He clenched his fists ruefully by his side, and spat out an apology in a low and dangerous tone.

‘As you wish.’

And how dearly he loved those words:

‘As you wish.’

'As you desire.’

Even though nothing had been, or ever will be, as she achingly wished them to.

“You could at least attempt to look happy.” His chastising tone rained upon her, as his Lady remained hammered in her seat. Maids flocked to her like lost chickens to their cock, arranging her hair and picking out dresses fit for their engagement parade.

Her face contorted into the mirror, and a faint sigh beleft her lips. Carefully she turned around, reflecting his stance with a subtle arch to her shapely brow.

“It’s bad luck to see your bride before the wedding ceremony.”

“An old wives' tale. And one that applies only on the day itself.”

“Perhaps we should encourage tradition more. Make it so we don’t cross paths at all til then.”

Just as fast as it came, the feral look dissolved over his tired face. Aemond heaved out a heavy exhale and merely settled to growl at her maids.

“Leave us. Now.”

A discontented look painted over her fair features. His niece opened her mouth in protest, to try and stop the fleeing girls from truly making their escape.

“I must remind my Prince that the engagement assembly will be held in less than an hour. I believe I should like them to stay.”

The gathered women exchanged lost and protruding glances, until the former King Regent spoke again.

“They will leave us at once.”

“They’ll do no such a thing. They must make haste to get me ready. We wouldn’t want to upset your mother.”

“I’m more than capable of lacing up a loose bodice.”

The tight expression on her face deserted her features with the leave of his smug retort. She swallowed thickly in enraged abandon, and silently beseeched her ladies not to leave her all alone.

Still ravishing her with his bold stare, Aemond stepped another foot into the cosy confinements of her tidy prison. “If I’m to turn around now and find any of you standing before me, I’ll arrange that you’re all flogged and defiled beyond the utter of salvation.”

Brisk footsteps swallowed the room, echoing wildly through the narrow dark hallways. The former Velaryon shook her head in disarray, and graced her soon-to-be-husband with a tight smile and a nod.

“Congratulations.” She uttered humorously, “I should enjoy looking like a fool tonight much more than being proper by your side.”

As if drowned below a trace, Aemond took another step in the direction of the frowning Princess. His face remained impenetrable, but as he opened his mouth to speak, his voice ran meek, unsure and hoarse.

“Turn around.” He commanded her gently, whilst grabbing a deep green garment from the cluttery made on her bed. Despite her lack of desire to abide by his request, the woman turned her back to him and muttered slowly, though much softer than intended.

“I don’t like that one. It’ll make the skirts look out of place.”

“Which one do you want, then?” His whisper had made her draw in a sharp gasp; the warmth of his breath fell soothingly over the nape of her neck, caressing her delicate skin in a way she hadn’t known was possible.

“The red one with black lacings.”

His hand came to spin her back around, and their noses nearly touched together. A smile tugged at the ends of his upturned lips, but the look inside his eye remained frigid and unforgiving.

“Your petticoat won’t be those colours.”

A conceited scowl graced her face. She reached her hand behind him and skillfully snatched one of a different design. “Fine. I want to wear this one, then.”

The obnoxious blue and silver danced across her paling skin. And if Aemond weren’t so dazed by their proximity and lack of air, he might have laughed at her feeble attempts of vexing him.

“Those are Velaryon hues.”

“Perfect. I shall honour my house well.”

“You are not a Velaryon to grace them with such a feat.”

“No, you are absolutely right. Your brother did name me a Targaryen.”

Their faces were so close to each other, that their moving lips were almost touching.

“Yet I can’t wear black and red either.” A prompted look disarmed the Prince, “It is all very confusing.”

His lone orb descended to her puffing bosom, but Aemond soon directed himself upon a more elusive image. His fingers twitched with the need to grab a hold of her – to pull away those last pieces of cloth that shielded her away from view.

“You know full well why I can’t allow that.” He hummed in unmoving disapproval, “As much as I enjoy your voice and the raptures of your closeness, I must say this conversation bores me.”

“I should be able to wear what I want.” Came her prompt and swift reply, “But of course, Your Grace, forgive me. ‘Tis not for men to pounder on laces and brims.” Her palms took to rest upon his bulging chest, and the girl nearly removed them at once, as the thrumming of his heart enterlaced with her slim fingers. Still, she furrowed her brows in a most perplexed of mockeries, and insatiably drove on, “Indeed resilient men such as yourself occupy their time much better.”

The callouses of his hands fell heavily upon her cheeks.

“Fucking their ways through brothels, getting their pricks wet, and fantasising about wars.”

The harshness of his next tug nearly broke her brave facade – her eyes widened in mistrust, and a slight recoil braced over her straightened back. Her small fingers clasped over his shaking wrist, which held onto her face with a gentleness untoward; one completely mismatching with the predatory glimmer in his eye.

The man he was, and the man he was trying to be would surely never mend to one.

A Kinslayer. A monster. A divergent freak.

Nothing more, and nothing less.

His thumb played absent-mindedly at her lower lip, and the young Princess tried her damnest not to bite him. “Did I strike a nerve with that one?”

“You are as imprudent as you are beautiful. A family trait, I assume.”

“You have my gratitude for the flattering commentary. I’m very proud of my heritage.”

His lilac orb bore into her, and the man let out a reserved laugh, “Your bastard brothers were ample proud. Look where that brought them.” The rough end of his hand gripped her own painfully, before she could make for a swing at his handsome face. “Lost in the seas, rotting at the bottom of an ocean, nestling inside Sunfyre’s belly.”

While her hands were clasped together, her mouth wasn’t sown shut. With a single and effective move, she spat harshly in his face, eliciting a groan from her broader perpetrator.

Though his nostrils flared up in disdain, the man graced her with a calculated smirk. “Did I strike a nerve with that one?” He mocked her with feigned interest.

“Fuck you,” She hissed out slowly, “Don’t you dare talk of my family – my brothers were ten times the man you are.”

“Oh, but I have every right to talk about your family. Given that I will be yours quite soon.” Once more he forced her to turn around, and kneeled over to her spasming form, to begin dressing her up; in nought else, of course, but the mundane silks of his choosing.

"Doesn't the prospect thrill you? To become my lady-wife, to finally bear a true Targaryen inside your royal womb?"

So hopeless and defeated she felt, that the youth jerked herself relentlessly, while repeating him the same plethora of words. “You cannot force me to be your whore. You cannot force me to wear this. I will not bear your Hightower green.”

Aemond could feel his patience running thin – and when her foot came into contact with his setting knee, the man let out a ferocious growl, and promptly trapped the girl in his arms, with the aid of a nearby wall.

“So you want to be difficult? You don’t want to wear this? Hmm? Well, who am I not to abide my Lady’s burning wishes?”

The sharpness of his dagger came into quick contact with the milky skin of her thighs. And she might have almost screamed, if Aemond didn’t immediately pull himself away. His hard chest grazed hers for but a moment, as the Prince cast his attention to her moving shadow.

“If you wish not to attend our engagement parade wearing the clothes I’ve chosen for you,” He muttered against her face, a scorned look adorning his own, “Then you won’t be wearing anything at all.”

She huffed out a dispensing pant and pursed her lips into a tight line.

She remained rigid and poised, until a spark of amusement swirled into her eyes.

The first crack was that of a lax smile. The next, a tremor to her lips. The calm before the storm approached, until all rattled down with a mirthed laugh cascading from her reddened lips.

“Do you mean to frighten me with this promise?” She asked through the arch of an uncertain brow, “As if every man in this cursed Keep won’t get to watch me whore myself out to you anyway, when our wedding night will come?”

His face suddenly hardened at the notion of their reality – as if he didn’t give much thought to the bedding ceremony. To his Lady being watched by a thousand other eyes but his.

Aemond suddenly darkened, and his fist came into contact with a near spot on the wall, so awfully close to her frightened, paling face.

She watched with wide eyes how his stare contorted from one of realisation to one of fury. He stiffly peeled his body away from hers, and strained himself to leave her be. The jealous and possessive knots that churned painfully inside his stomach burned his skin upon the surface, and constricted the air he brashly took in.

He nodded to her in a spry and calloused manner, and brought his hand out to touch her cheek. His knuckles had begun to bleed, busted by the force of impact that his fist had faced for him. Behind his eye danced a look of seldom shame – he gnawed harshly at his bottom lip, and pondered, for a while, on apologising to his niece; for his lack of princely conduct, for his show of impropriety – for his inability to keep himself at bay.

Still his thoughts failed to merge to words, and so the man ran his eye one final time over her defensive pose, and merely left her standing there.

As if turned into a statue, the girl barely registered the lethargic closing of the door, the hurried and heavy footsteps that travelled further and further away from her quaint and cluttered space, and the animated curse that slipped past her uncle's throat.

Did he just dare to leave her there, with her petticoat half up her legs, in nought else but a flimsy nightdress?

At first she thought that his avoidance was a blessing in disguise.

For after clashing wits with Aemond, and after his swift hurried departure, the man had barely graced her with another word.

His hand held onto hers for the whole duration of the procession. He wordlessly forced her to dance two dances, and led her to her Quarters as soon as she mentioned that she was tired.

But his palms didn’t linger on the shape of her narrow waist – his lips barely grazed her knuckles, and Aemond turned with lest a word to add after their fake sympathies were exchanged.

Had he gotten bored of her? Realised what a terrible match they made, and begged his mother on his hands and knees to break off their ill engagement?

For the first time in a while, a new notion of fear engulfed her.

The Greens couldn’t kill her. Of that, she was almost certain. It wouldn't be a wise move, and it would anger the North beyond the power of salvation. The war had had its say on every army that fought into it, yet the Crownlands were especially weak.

But if Aemond were to sever their solidary alliance, then her future would be most uncertain.

Otto Hightower would make her join with an old and withered Lord, no doubt – one with more than enough sons to further on his pesky line. One who couldn’t even get it up to her, who’d never procreate and mend their blood, who’d make sure Rhaenyra’s line would end with her.

Or perhaps she’d be sent to join the Faith – become a Septa or a Silent Sister, among the infamous Maris Baratheons of the Realm. Yet another girl who wouldn’t keep her tongue when asked.

And history might remember them as ‘the women who couldn’t be tamed’, but their lives would be thrown to ruin. Their existence would remain a sham.

No, she had whispered to herself, as she writhed into the soft bedding. If she still thirsted for revenge, she would have to marry Aemond. Keep him interested and relaxed – yearning for her voice and company.

… And if she had to whore herself to him to do it, she would obediently assume her role.

“I beg your pardon?” Aegon asked through another gulp of bitter wine, “Gods be good – I believe that now I’ve heard it all.”

Aemond paced about his brother’s room, with his hands clasped behind his back, and his face set into a deep grimace. He hummed in admission to his brother’s words, and glanced his way with the instance of a hooded eye.

“There is to be no bedding ceremony.” He repeated himself with ease, “I frightened her enough already. The girl will be plenty uncomfortable without the aid of chafing eyes.”

His brother smiled and raised his brows in nothing else but blinding wonder. A small shake of his head indicated his perplexion, and a sharp inhale his drawn decision.

“Mother insisted upon it. You know that well.” The man steadied himself in his chair as he spoke, whilst letting out a small grunt at the contact that the wood made upon his burnt remnants of skin. “I don’t see any reason to annul it. Especially now, an eve before.”

Another sip of the stinging liquor interrupted his smooth and ready trail of thought. The Targaryen brushed off Aemond’s concerns, and gleefully bided his teasing.

“It’ll do the two of you good – you’ll get to see she’s as pure as a bastard girl can be; and she’ll have no deniability that any of her future heirs are yours.” He pointed his weary digit in the direction of his stiffened form and swallowed down a hefty laugh. “Not to mention that Lord Redwyne and Tarly already placed bets on the state of her maidenhead. Would be a shame to disappoint them both, don't you think?"

“What mother thinks is of no consequence. And the amusement of the Realm matters not to me. There will be no bedding ceremony.”

“Nonsense, Aemond. It is our duty to upkeep the Realm – and to entertain its inhabitants if need be.”

When his reckless teasing was met with glacial silence, Aegon sighed as he briskly leaned forward. He watched his sibling with an indiscernible expression across his scorched veneer, and yawned greatly at his indisposed behaviour.

“Of course, we’re here to talk it out. But after so much time spent in your company, I fail to see the necessity for such a thing.” A sly smirk danced across his puffy lips, “Are you concerned that she won’t bleed? Or that you’ll be too cunt-struck by her to last enough to make a statement?”

Aemond’s fists descended upon the polished wood of Aegon’d desk. He thrashed his brother with a defiant glare, and hissed through his gritted teeth, and tight-set jaw.

“There will be no bedding ceremony for my niece and I. Tell that to every Lord that wishes to glance upon my wife – if they do so much as to cast their eyes on her, they’ll be fucking their own wives with a wooden cock.”

Amusement laced with grave concern – the finality of Aemond's words ought to have vexed him, irk the King in his sibling's weighty insolence. Instead Aegon nodded, pushing back the feeling of dread that settled deep within his bones. His head jerked towards his closed oak door, signalling to his brother that his visit had been overstated. “What sort of brother would I be, to not grant you with this simple whim?”

The younger Targaryen mirrored his stance, and turned abruptly on his heel after a low grunt of gratitude.

His hand reached for the golden handle, but Aegon's words deterred him to a halt.

“But be careful with that one, Aemond. She’s brash and wholly unpredictable. Make sure the blood that stains your sheets come morning isn’t somehow your very own.”

Perma Tag List: @welcometothelioncage @kravitzwhore ♡

[goblinontour]

The Mephistopheles Of Los Angeles

dracula’s hungry

warnings: soft!dom!alex (ish), smut, oral (f receiving), masturbation (m receiving), rimming (m receiving), period stuff

word count: 5.4k

He never really understood why he threw himself into the whole Halloween thing with such intensity every year. Maybe it was the spectacle of it all, the chance to be someone else for a night. He’d spend weeks, months even, obsessing over his costume, as if it really mattered. It never did, though. By the end of the night, he’d always regret it.

Like tonight. 

He trailed about ten steps behind you, limping slightly because his boots were rubbing his feet raw. The oversized, stiff leather had seemed like a good idea when he first planned the outfit, but now every step was a painful reminder of his poor choices. His wig, which had been an itchy, tangled mess of cheap black hair meant to give him some rockstar edge, Alice Cooper, or something close enough, was clutched in his fist. It had been driving him mad since he put it on, and he finally gave up. Now he just looked ridiculous, like some half-done version of a Halloween cliché, with smeared eyeliner and the remnants of his costume hanging in tatters around him. 

He glanced down at the wig and considered chucking it into one of the bins lining the street. It would be satisfying in the moment, but what was the point? It was a shit party anyway. 

You hadn’t even stayed long. The music was too loud, the crowd too chaotic. He’d barely gotten a drink down before you turned to him, your eyes saying everything you didn’t have to. “Can we just go home?” you asked. He didn’t even need a reason, he was more than down for it. The second you mentioned leaving, he didn’t ask why. He didn’t care. If anything, he was relieved. 

He followed you now, watching the way your costume moved with the sway of your hips, feeling a little guilty for not telling you how great you looked tonight. But the weight of his own annoyance hung over him, making it hard to say much of anything.

The night was cool, the air damp with the scent of wet pavement. You led the way, a ghost of a smile flickering at the corner of your lips as you glanced over your shoulder, slowing just enough for him to catch up. Even though you’d left the party early, you didn’t seem disappointed at all. Maybe you knew he wasn’t having fun. Maybe you just wanted him all to yourself tonight.

Either way, he didn’t mind. The costume could rot in a corner somewhere for all he cared. He just wanted to get home, peel off the rest of this nightmare outfit, and collapse with you.

He quickened his pace, falling in step beside you, his hand brushing against yours. “That bad, huh?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you looked him over, taking in his state.

“Worse.” he muttered, letting out a breath. “I think I’m done with Halloween for good.”

You laughed softly, and the sound of it warmed him in a way the night air couldn’t. “You say that every year, Alex.”

“And I mean it every year.”

“Sure you do.” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder.

When you two finally got home, the sound of the door clicking shut behind you seemed to echo in the quiet space. You sighed, bending down to take off your shoes, relieved to be free of them after a night of walking. The costume was starting to feel as cumbersome as Alex’s, but you were more than ready to unwind and put the night behind you.

Just as you balanced on one foot, pulling off your second shoe, you felt it. A light slap on your ass, followed by a familiar, playful pressure as Alex’s hips thrust into you from behind. His hands snaked around your waist, firm and insistent, pulling you back against him. His front bent down to align with your back, lips hovering just above your neck.

“Alex!” you gasped, not sure whether to be annoyed or laugh at how predictable he was.

“We should have sex.” he murmured against your bare shoulder, his voice low, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His teeth grazed your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

You sat up, leaning back against his chest, but you didn’t pull away from his hold. “No.”

“Yes.” he countered, not missing a beat, his breath warm against your neck.

“Can’t.” you replied simply, though your resolve was already starting to crumble with the way his hands slid across your waist, tracing the curve of your hips.

Alex’s lips curled into a smirk as he pressed himself closer, his hands slipping lower. “I think I’m very capable of having sex with you.” he muttered, voice thick, his body already moving against yours like he was ready to prove it.

You let out a soft laugh, finally turning around in his arms to face him. “Period, you horny bitch. That’s why I wanted to leave.” you said, giving him a pointed look.

He blinked, a spark of realisation crossing his face before a grin spread slowly across his lips. “Fits the occasion.” he said, completely unbothered, shrugging like it was the most logical thing he could think of. “What’s so bad about getting a little bloody?”

Your jaw dropped in mock horror as he bit down on your neck, playfully channelling his best Dracula impression, already looking like a 21st century reincarnation of him.

“That’s gross, Alex.” you said, half-laughing, half-sighing, though the sensation of his teeth on your skin made it hard to push him away.

“Don’t care.” he said with a wicked grin, his grip on you tightening as he started to take small, clumsy steps forward, guiding you with him. You stumbled together, his hands never leaving your body, your legs tangling up as you nearly toppled over, catching yourself against his chest.

“Consider me the Mephistopheles of Los Angeles.” he continued, lips brushing your ear. “Who’s trying out for a band, obviously.”

“Obviously.” you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips as his words got more ridiculous by the second. “You are unbelievable.”

“And irresistible.” he added, clearly pleased with himself as he pressed his forehead to yours, locking his gaze with yours. The room seemed to tilt for a moment, the tension between you electric, fueled by his playful persistence and the heat still buzzing from the party.

Despite everything, you could feel yourself melting against him, your body responding to the warmth of his touch and the way his lips hovered so close to yours, daring you to give in. You knew you weren’t going to win this one, but you let him have his moment anyway, because his relentless charm was working its magic on you, as always.

As Alex’s mouth moved against yours, the remnants of his smudged face paint became a mess between you, slick and greasy as it smeared over your chin, probably even mingling between your mouths. You could taste it, a hint of something synthetic and oily, but it was quickly overshadowed by the familiar taste of him, warm, intoxicating, and the way his kiss pulled you deeper into him.

His lips trailed to your jaw, teeth grazing lightly as he murmured, voice low and rough, “I want you down…”

Your breath hitched at the way his words came out, thick with need.

“On your knees.”

“Mhm…” you barely managed to respond, the heat of his body pressed so close to yours, the pressure of his hands on your hips already making you lightheaded. His lips returned to yours, but it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t giving you enough, not with the way his hands were already moving lower, searching, hungry.

“So I can eat you out.” he growled, each word punctuated with the way his lips ghosted over yours, as if he couldn’t get close enough.

Your heart raced, the pulse between your legs almost unbearable at his words, at the way his voice dipped lower. “Yeah?”

“Yeah…fuck-” he groaned, his mouth crashing back to yours briefly before he pulled away, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. He was already palming himself through his jeans, his hand rubbing against the thick outline of his erection, his control slipping with every passing second. “I can’t wait, babe.”

The way his hands roamed over your body, desperate, impatient, made your stomach flip. You could feel his fingers digging into your waist, pulling you closer to him, his need practically vibrating through his grip. He kissed you once more, this time sloppier, hurried, before breaking away entirely.

By the time you reached the bedroom, it was a blur of hasty touches and stumbled steps, the both of you too far gone to care about being graceful. The second you crossed the threshold, he wasted no time. He spun you around and nearly threw you down onto the bed, the weight of your body sinking into the mattress beneath you. His hands followed, tracing up the backs of your thighs with rough, insistent strokes, fingers gripping the fabric of your dress as he pushed it up, exposing the curve of your ass and the damp fabric of your underwear.

He paused for just a second, his breath catching as his gaze fixed on you. 

“You stained your panties.” he muttered, voice tight with restrained desire. His fingers grazed the edge of the fabric, teasingly tugging at the hem, just enough to make you shiver under his touch.

You turned your head to glance back at him, voice barely more than a breath as you answered, “I know. That’s why I wanted to get home.”

His reaction was instant, a deep, guttural sound that came from low in his throat as he leaned down, his lips brushing against the small of your back. His hands slid further up your thighs, grabbing fistfuls of the fabric of your dress, bunching it up higher until it was resting around your waist. He needed to feel you, to have you all to himself.

You didn’t need any more encouragement. Slowly, you let yourself lean forward, your chest pressing into the mattress as you arched your back, your ass lifted high for him. You could feel his eyes on you, practically burning holes into your skin with the intensity of his gaze.

“Fuck.” he groaned again. You felt his hands knead the soft flesh of your ass, spreading you open as he took in the sight of you. He dipped his head down, and the warmth of his breath sent a shiver up your spine, anticipation pooling low in your belly.

“You’re fucking perfect.” he murmured, like he couldn’t believe you were here, like this, just for him. His hands roamed over your body. His lips followed, brushing against the sensitive skin of your thighs before pressing soft kisses against your ass, teasing and torturous.

“Al-” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, trembling with anticipation as your fingers curled tighter into the sheets. The warmth of his breath drifted lower, teasing you, making your skin burn with every second he lingered. You were already soaked, could feel the slick wetness between your thighs. The weight of his stare as he pulled the fabric to the side made it even worse.

But just as the fabric stretched tight against your hips, Alex hesitated for only a fraction of a second before a low, frustrated growl rumbled from his throat. Without warning, his hands tightened, fingers gripping the delicate waistband of your panties, and with one swift motion he tore the frail material right off your body. The sound of it, sharp, unmistakable, ripped through the quiet of the room, the sudden snap making your pulse race.

The air hit your bare skin, cool against the heat of your body, and your breath caught in your throat as the remnants of your panties dangled from his fingers for a split second before he tossed them aside. They were ruined, completely shredded, but you didn’t care. Neither did he.

“They were done for anyway.” he muttered, his breath hot against the back of your thigh. His hands slid back up your legs, rough and impatient, fingers digging into your skin like he couldn’t stand to be away from you any longer. “Couldn’t help it.”

The sound of the fabric tearing was still echoing in your mind, but all you could focus on now was him. The way his grip tightened, his hands unrelenting as he spread you open. His breath hovered over your most sensitive spot, and you could feel his lips grazing the inside of your thighs, kissing his way up.

“God, you’re so wet.” he breathed as his thumb teased along your slick folds, tracing you, making you gasp. “Been like this all night, haven’t you?”

You couldn’t answer, could only nod as your hips moved instinctively, pushing back toward him, desperate for his touch. The anticipation was unbearable, every second that passed without his mouth on you felt like torture.

“Poor thing.” Alex chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as his fingers parted you gently, exposing you more to the cool air and his hungry gaze. His lips brushed your ass again for a second, before he finally, finally, dipped his head lower.

In an instant, his mouth was on you, hot and wet, and the sensation was electric, lighting up every nerve in your body. You let out a soft moan, fingers clutching the sheets even tighter as he worked his tongue against you, slow at first, savouring the taste of you like he’d been starving for it.

He groaned against your skin, the vibration of it sending shocks of pleasure through you, and the roughness of his slight stubble grazed your inner thighs as his tongue delved deeper, his grip tightening on your hips as he pulled you closer.

You let out a soft, desperate whimper, your hips rolling against his face as his tongue moved with a rhythm that left you breathless. The heat was overwhelming, your body burning from the inside out as Alex devoured you, lost in the taste and the feel of you. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you spread open and steady as he licked and sucked, his tongue swirling around your clit, dragging out every ounce of pleasure he could pull from you.

“Fuck...you taste so fucking good.” Alex growled against you, his voice rough and muffled as his mouth moved between your thighs, lips and tongue working together to drag you closer and closer to the edge. 

He paused for just a moment, pulling his mouth away to look at your face, turned to watch him, his lips glistening with your slickness, eyes dark and blown with lust. “Almost sweet.” he murmured, “I can’t get enough.”

You whimpered softly at his words, already missing the feel of his tongue on you, your body aching for him to continue. But before you could even ask, he was moving, this time with a different kind of urgency.

He shifted back slightly, his hands still gripping your thighs, but now his fingers moved to the front of his jeans. You could hear the metallic sound of his zipper being dragged down, the noise cutting through the heat of the moment like a shot of adrenaline. He couldn’t take it anymore. 

With a groan, he freed himself, pulling his cock out with one hand, the other still gripping your thigh tightly. His breath hitched as he stroked himself, the slick glide of his hand moving in the same rhythm that his tongue had just been fucking into you.

“Look at you.” he murmured, more to himself than to you, his voice dripping with desire.

The tension was unbearable. You arched your back further, pushing yourself toward him, desperate for his touch. He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin. “Impatient, aren’t you?” he teased, his fingers tracing slow, lazy patterns over your thighs.

You opened your mouth to answer, but the words never came. In an instant, his mouth was on you again, hot and demanding, his tongue dragging over your folds with a groan so deep it found its way through your entire body. Your hips bucked instinctively, a gasp ripping from your throat.

His tongue pushed inside you again, moving with the same pace as his hand on his cock, each stroke of his tongue matched by the slow pump of his fist.

Every time his tongue dipped into your hole, it felt like your body was being torn apart, pleasure shooting up your spine in sharp, dizzying waves. And every time his hand moved over his cock, you could feel the way his body was straining for release, just as desperate as you were. 

You couldn’t stop the moan that spilled from your lips, hips pushing back against his face as your body chased the overwhelming sensation. You were both a mess of limbs, sweat, and heat, tangled up in each other, his mouth relentless against you as his fist moved faster, his groans vibrating against your skin.

He wasn’t holding back, wasn’t teasing anymore. He was all in, and it was driving you wild. The way his hands held you open, the wet heat of his mouth, it was too much and not enough all at once.

Your fingers clenched tighter in the sheets, your body already trembling as he buried his face deeper between your legs. 

And he was loving it. You could hear the way he was groaning, the way he was losing himself in the taste of you, each sound driving you closer to the edge. His hands slid up, one gripping your waist as the other found its way to your clit, circling it with slow strokes that made your knees weak.

“Fuck…” you gasped, barely able to get the word out as your body tensed, everything tightening under the pressure of what he was doing to you. He had you right on the edge, his mouth and fingers working together with an unrelenting rhythm, pulling you apart bit by bit until you were nothing but raw nerves and the overwhelming need to let go.

“That’s it.” he murmured against you, muffled by the way his mouth stayed pressed against your soaked folds. “I want you to come for me, babe.”

And with the way his tongue flicked over your clit, the wet, perfect pressure of his fingers dipping inside of you, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer. The heat coiling deep in your belly suddenly snapped, your body going rigid as the orgasm ripped through you, a white-hot wave of pleasure that had you crying out, hips bucking wildly against his mouth.

Your hips dropped, shaking uncontrollably as your body gave in, but Alex didn’t stop. His hands gripped you tighter, refusing to let you go as he followed your movement, craning his neck down to keep his mouth attached to you. His tongue still worked against your clit, dragging out every last tremor until you were a trembling mess beneath him.

“Alex.” you whimpered, trying to pull away, the overstimulation too much to handle, but he didn’t let up. He kept his mouth on you relentlessly, until you were practically shaking, until you had no choice but to push him away, the pleasure bordering on too much.

Finally, he gave up, pulling back with a groan. He turned you over onto your back, and you could see the evidence of everything you’d just been through all over him. Blood smeared across his mouth and chin, mixing with the wet sheen from his lips, and god, it was so fucking hot you didn’t care how weird it might’ve been.

“You look like a vampire.” you said, your breath still coming in shallow gasps.

Alex raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Mhm?”

“Sexiest Dracula I’ve ever seen.” you told him, your voice shaky but teasing, the heat between you still electric as he sat back on his knees on the bed, towering over you.

He was still pumping his cock in his hand, his gaze never leaving yours. The sight of him like that, dark hair tousled, face smeared with your blood, his hand wrapped around himself as he watched you with pure hunger in his eyes, made your heart race all over again.

“Let me make you come.” you said, voice soft but insistent as you sat up.

He paused for a moment, his hand stilling, fingers sliding over the tip of his cock slowly as he sucked in a sharp breath. “Fuck, okay.” he breathed, voice strained.

He lay back on the bed, and you didn’t waste any time. You crawled toward him, your knees pressing into the mattress as you leaned over his body. The way he was still fully clothed, his jeans unbuttoned just enough to free his cock, the rest of him completely untouched, made you go crazy. There was something about the contrast of his clothed body against the raw need in his eyes that made your pulse race.

You reached for him, your fingers wrapping around his cock, taking over from where his hand had been. He groaned the moment you touched him, hips lifting off the bed slightly as you gave him a firm stroke. You could feel how hard he was, the weight of him thick and heavy in your hand, and it sent a rush of heat through you all over again.

“Fuck…” Alex moaned, his head falling back against the pillows as he watched you through half-lidded eyes, completely at your mercy now.

Alex’s groan echoed in the room as he suddenly shifted, moving you off him with a sense of urgency, getting up from the bed just to pull his jeans down. You watched, your gaze locked on his every movement as he turned his back to you, his body still caught in the dim, hazy light of the room. The waistband of his jeans slid down his hips, and you couldn’t help but stare as his ass bounced slightly, his underwear slipping down as well in one smooth motion. His shirt hung just low enough to almost cover him, but not quite, leaving enough for you to see, and for your imagination to go wild.

“You’re so hot.” you murmured, your voice dripping with desire.

“I know.” he shot back with that signature smirk, turning to face you with his cock hanging heavy between his thighs, the eyeliner around his eyes making his gaze look even darker, more dangerous. He pulled a cigarette from the pack he’d stuffed in his back pocket earlier, flicking it up to his lips. Slumping back onto the bed, he reached over to the nightstand, grabbing the lighter he always kept there. With a flick of his wrist, the flame sparked, and soon the cigarette was lit, smoke curling lazily from his lips.

“Where were we?” he asked, exhaling smoke through his nose as his free hand lazily threaded through your hair.

“I was about to suck your cock.” you replied, your voice thick with hunger as you moved closer to him, leaning down.

“Really?” His eyes gleamed through the haze of smoke.

“Mhm.” you hummed as your lips brushed against the length of him, trailing soft kisses down to his balls, your hand wrapping around the base of his cock. Just as you were about to take him into your mouth, Alex’s hand on your head tightened slightly, guiding you further down with a low, throaty chuckle. 

“Nah, I don’t think so.” he said, his voice dark and commanding, pushing your head lower until your lips dragged against the sensitive skin beneath his balls. He was taking control, making you follow the path he wanted.

Your tongue flicked out, tracing along that soft, delicate skin, and you could feel him shudder beneath your touch, his legs twitching slightly as you moved lower. He guided you down until your mouth was pressed between his thighs, your tongue now lapping at his hole, and you felt his body stiffen, his hips arching up slightly as you began to work your tongue deeper.

“Oh, fuck…that’s good.” Alex moaned, his voice low and thick as he tilted his head back, eyes half-lidded as he took another slow drag from his cigarette. His legs spread wider, giving you better access, and you buried your face between his thighs, licking at him with slow strokes, your chin brushing against the sheets beneath him as you adjusted to the not-so-comfortable angle. But the way he reacted, the low groans, the way his hips rocked up, the tension in his thighs, made it all worth it.

His hand left your hair after a moment, drifting down to his own cock. He didn’t grab it, didn’t stroke himself like you expected. His fingers only danced lightly over the tip, just barely brushing against that sensitive patch of skin right where the head met the shaft. His movements were soft, teasing, focusing on that delicate spot as your tongue worked him lower.

He groaned again, his body going taut under your touch, smoke curling from his lips as his free hand brought the cigarette back up for another lazy drag. The sight of him, smoke swirling around him, his hand moving lightly over his cock, his head tilted back in pure pleasure, was almost enough to undo you completely.

The room was filled with the quiet sounds of his pleasure, soft moans, the wet drag of your tongue, the faint crackle of his cigarette, and you knew you had him exactly where he wanted to be.

His body tensed, his breath coming out in short, shallow gasps as he took another drag from his cigarette, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as the sensation of your tongue working against him deepened. He could feel the slow burn building, not just in his chest from the nicotine but lower, much lower, where you were focused. The need was overwhelming, coursing through his veins like fire.

Without an ashtray in reach, he glanced down at the cigarette between his fingers. His free hand moved instinctively, smushing the lit end between his fingertips, snuffing it out. The brief sting of the burn barely registered compared to the other burn, the one spreading hot and fast in his groin. The smouldering heat inside him made everything else fade into the background.

He groaned, his hips shifting slightly, the frustration building. He needed more. His hand finally moved to his cock, wrapping tightly around the base of it with a desperation that made him shudder. The moment his fingers closed around his shaft, he started stroking, slow at first but with an urgency that quickly picked up. The slick glide of his hand, combined with your tongue working him, had him right on the edge in seconds.

“Ah-” he moaned, the sound breaking in his throat as his hips jerked up. His hand pumped faster now, fingers curling around the thickness of his cock, stroking himself with that perfect rhythm that matched the tension tightening in his body. The burn was overwhelming, pleasure searing through him as he fucked his fist, every nerve alight with sensation.

His head fell back against the pillows, eyes squeezing shut as he lost himself to it, the low sound of his moans filling the room. You could feel him trembling beneath you, his thighs twitching with each stroke of your tongue, his hips lifting off the bed as he chased his release, completely undone.

“Fuck…” Alex groaned, the word dragging out as his body seized, the tension finally snapping as he came hard, his hand freezing mid-stroke. His hips jerked, his muscles tightening beneath your touch as the wave of release crashed over him. His breath hitched, his mouth falling open in a silent moan as his cock pulsed in his hand, spilling over.

But you didn’t stop.

Your tongue kept working him, soft and slow, dragging through the sensitive skin, tracing the shape of him, coaxing out every last tremor. You could feel how he was still twitching beneath you, his body tense with the intensity of it all, but you stayed on him, guiding him through the aftershocks with gentle strokes of your tongue.

“Fuck, babe…” he panted, his voice ragged and hoarse, hips shaking as he tried to come down from it. His hand dropped from his cock, fingers curling weakly into the sheets, surrendering to the pleasure you were still drawing out of him. His entire body shuddered, helpless against the lingering sensation, the overstimulation bordering on too much, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell you to stop.

You felt him go limp beneath you, his breath coming in ragged gasps, chest heaving. There was a faint sheen of sweat on his brow, and he looked utterly wrecked, like he’d been pulled apart and put back together. 

But the faint, satisfied smile on his lips told you he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

He wasn’t even sure how it happened, but another wave started building, this time weaker, more drawn out. His cock twitched, untouched, his overstimulated nerves firing in ways he couldn’t explain.  

His hand weakly gripped the sheets, knuckles going white as he fought to stay in control. “Fuck, I’m coming again-” he choked out, his voice barely audible, broken by the overwhelming sensation washing over him. His hips rocked forward, and you could see the weak pulse of his cock as he came again, almost dry this time, but the release was there, shuddering through him, softer but just as intense in its own way.

He groaned low and deep, a sound that seemed to come from somewhere deep in his chest as he tried to ride out the last of it, but it was too much. His thighs trembled, everything twitching inside of him as you kept working him, your tongue relentless even as his body gave out beneath you.

Finally, with a shaky breath, he reached down, fingers tangling in your hair. “Enough…fuck- stop.” he gasped, his voice hoarse, almost pleading as he gently pushed your head away. His thighs squeezed together instinctively, the overstimulation becoming unbearable, every nerve firing at once. 

His body curled slightly as his thighs closed, legs trembling as he tried to recover, his breath ragged and uneven. His head fell back against the pillow, eyes squeezed shut as he let out one last deep, satisfied groan. 

You crawled over him slowly, your body aching but buzzing with satisfaction, the heat between you both still thick in the air. Your hand reached up, fingers raking through his dark hair, now slick and wet from the sweat and heat of everything that had just transpired. His chest rose and fell under you, his breath still uneven, but his eyes, even though almost closed, were soft, almost tender. Even with the black eyeliner smeared around his eyes, and the dried blood smeared across his chin, he looked impossibly perfect. 

He glanced up at you, his lips curling into a tired smirk as his hand slid up your side, gently pulling you down to him. “Come here.” he murmured, his voice rough from all the moaning and the exhaustion that was starting to creep in.

You leaned in, his grip on your waist guiding you as you pressed your lips to his. The kiss was soft, surprisingly so. Almost innocent, if that was even possible after everything you’d just done together. His mouth moved gently against yours, tasting of smoke, sweat, and the faintest hint of what had passed between you. His hand wandered lazily, stroking your back as he kissed you with a sweetness that felt entirely out of place but perfectly right.

Your fingers stayed tangled in his hair, still damp as you kissed him back, enjoying the soft pull of his lips, the quiet intimacy of the moment. 

He sighed into it, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his eyes half-open, the smirk now replaced with something softer. “You wrecked me.” he muttered with a chuckle, his thumb lazily tracing a line down your spine under the dress you still had on. 

You smiled, your heart still pounding as you kissed him again, lighter this time, just a brush of lips. “You loved it.” you whispered back, feeling how utterly spent he was beneath you.

a/n: ehhhhhh…i only like the second part that’s more about him but yeahhh…

tags: @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @avxoxo1 @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @aacheinthejaw @zayndrider @humbuginmybones @tedioepica

[sweetlittleroses]

Running Up that Hill

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Aegon II Targaryen, Helena Targaryen X Aegon II Targaryen

Summary: What if blood and cheese didn’t happen to Helena but Aegon? What if he was forced to pay the consequences for his families actions.

Warnings: Violence, a bit of angst, omegaverse

Author’s Note: So I saw the scene of blood and cheese and literally traumatized. Poor Helena and what a hypocrite Alicent is. Also Jacaerys and Aegon are aged up to make this LEGAL. On a side note, should I also start putting my work on Ao3?🍰

The night was like no other. Guards were posted on every end of the castle but besides their presence, the castle was silent. Aegon walked through the castle in his dirty clothes while stumbling due to the ale he drank at fleabottom. The weight of the crown and responsibilities drew him to drink and whore himself out more than usual. Anything to fill the void that was left in him.

He wanted to get to his chambers and sleep to escape the reality of his life. The reality that there was war outside and at any point, blood would further shed. However, something called him to go check on his children. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to see his children, but his reputation overtook the image of him being a decent father. Or mother.

As he neared his children’s chambers, he took notice of the absence of Ser Criston and any other guards. Thinking the guard was a bit late to his post, he came closer to the doors of his children’s chambers, but as he was going to push the doors open, he heard the quick whispers of men and the cries of his sister. His breath quickened as the crying of his children was heard.

Pushing the doors quickly, he sobered up at the sight that befell on him. Helaena was on the ground, mark on the cheek, cut on her neck, and tears in her eyes. His children were held by the neck as a knife was held to each of their small throats.

“No”, Aegon said as he froze at the sight of danger his family was in. Tears welled up in his eyes as he saw the state they were in.

“Look what we have here. The king in his mighty glory. Tell me your grace, are you in the mood for some fun?”, they taunted as they held the hair of his children tighter and the blades pressed harder to their throats.

“Please just let them go. I’ll do anything. Give you gold. Jewels. Anything! BUT JUST LET THEM GO!”, Aegon screamed and cried, as he tried to come close to his children.

“NOT a further step! Or your children get it!” They shouted as they backed up. He stoped his movements to prevent any further harm to the children.

“ Now your grace, it seems that you will have to make a choice. Which child will choose to lose their head?” One taunted.

“ please… please… let them go. You can take me. Just take me and spare them”, Aegon pleaded as he dropped to his knees.

“No! You will choose! You are given the mercy to choose ! The same cannot be said for the boy who died”, one shouted as he shaked one of his children.

Helena continued to cry as she mumbled “Blood and Cheese”. Aegon felt helpless. He was going to see one child of his get murdered, and it would be his fault.

“please”, he continued to beg and cry, “please”.

“A SON FOR A SON”, they taunted. Oh. Oh. Lucerys. Rhaenyra’s sweet boy. His children were going to pay the consequences for his brother’s actions.

“PLEASE”, he screamed. Once they said a son, his fear caused him too look at his son. Jaehaerys. One of the men saw where he looked and grinned. “ I see we have finally found a son to lose his head”, they taunted as they pushed his daughter to him.

Grabbing her and snuggling her closer to him, he tried to hide her away from the sight. He couldn’t help but look at the crying face of his son. No. please. Let the gods have mercy on us. Let them save his boy.

As soon as they were going to kill his son, a body ran against one of the attackers and pushed them, causing them to drop his son. As the other attacker was ready to fight back, the person fought him. The fight lasted for some time before their savior wielded their dagger and killed one assassin with a blow to their neck.

“Jaehaerys”, he cried out as his son got up and ran to his arms. Holding both his children to his chest, he covered them as best as he could. He could feel Helaena grabbing on to him from the back. He closed his eyes hoping that everything would go away. That they would be safe. That their screams alerted someone. He continued to hear fighting till silence was only heard.

However, when he felt the touch of someone, he hopelessly shouted, “please, don’t take them!”. He hyperventilated at the thought of the men grabbing his children again and killing them both, but the person held his cheek softly.

“It’s me Aegon”, the person whispered.

Opening up his eyes, he saw Jacaerys down at them. He was covered in blood. Looking to the side of him, he saw the bodies of the assassins on the floor. He finally started crying as Jace pulled him and his children close. He continued to cry in his neck. He could feel the tight hold that Jace had on him as a way to protect his children and him. He could feel the caress on his hair as tears slipped his eyes. The whispering of soothing words. They stayed in the embrace for some time before new decisions had to be made.

“We must go now”, Jace said to him as they pulled away from each other. Aegon couldn’t move. He contemplated of what might happen. Looking down at his children he could clearly see the disheveled state they were in. Hair was everywhere, tears ran their cheeks, sniffling could be heard as their little bodies shook. He then turned to look at Helena to see her in the same state.

“ We must go.”, she whispered.

Turning his attention back to Jace, he nodded. They quickly cloaked the children before making their way out the castle and into the pit. He continued to hold his children close to him while continuously looking behind him for any danger. As they finally arrived to the dragonpit, Aegon spotted Vermax, Jace’s mighty dragon had grown significantly . They hurried to their dragons with Helaena running towards Dreamfyre with the children’s hatchlings close to her. As Aegon held his children close he saw that his dragon would not be strong enough to carry him and his children.

The worried thoughts began to consume him until he felt Jace’s hand near his arm. Facing him, Jace whispered to him ,“Let me take one”. He shook his head at the thought of being seperated from his children. He was scared that something would happen to him.

“Please Aegon. Let me take one of them. You won’t all fit on Sunfyre”, Jace whispered as he looked at Aegon with a pleading look.

“Please Aegon”, he continued to plead. Jace was scared that the guards would be alerted at the missing presence of the Targaryen children. He was especially fearful of Aemond preventing them from escaping.

“Okay…Take Jaehaera. Make sure she is safe and I will take Jaehaerys.” Aegon whispered as small tears gathered in his eyes.

Quickly Jace helped Jaehaera mount his dragon and secured her enough. She was still shaking at the previous events. Quietly he whispered to her as he hugged her, “ Their my sweet girl. We’re safe now. Just hold on to me.” Jaehaera snuggled to the warmth of Jace. On the other side of the pit, Aegon was situated at the top of his dragon. His son close to his chest. He whispered to his son,“Hold on tight sweet boy. We can finally be free”.

Sending a reassuring nod to Jace and Helaena, Helaena was the first one to take off, then Jace followed and finally Aegon took off. Their dragons soared through the night of kings landing. Away for the keep, away from their poisonous family, and away from war.

They soared above the sea, Helaena being a guidance to their dragons. As they flew he couldn’t help but hold his son close, letting all his pain and tears free. Aegon continued to whisper apologies to his sleeping son. His sweet boy who would have been killled if it wasn’t for Jace. His child finally fell to a peaceful slumber after a bit of crying. Aegon could see Jace ahead with his little girl. Jace had a tight grip on her as he held onto the reign of his dragon.

Finally seeing Dragonstone, new worries set in his head. He had escaped one trap, just to fly to another. His sister was under the impression that he wanted to unsurp her throne, he who wanted her children dead, and he who started to call them bastards. Landing their dragons, Aegon hesitated to dismount his dragon,but as he looked to the side, he saw Jace waiting for him as he carried his sleeping girl. As he descended down his dragon, he took notice of the guards who approached.

They had their swords drawn, ready to defend the queen but the sight of Jace made them stand down.

“ Take me to the Queen, we have matters to discuss”, Jace said firmly as he kept Aegon and Helena close to him.

As they came closer to the palace, he could feel the various eyes of servants and guards. Once they reached the council room, he was met with the sight of many lords, Rhaenys, Lord Corlys and at the center Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra, looked at Aegon with hidden shock. Her unkept brother looked horrible. She took notice of her son holding one of the children and her brother holding the other. What alarmed her more was her son and siblings covered in blood and in tears.

“What has happened?”, she gasped to Jace as she took notice of their state.

“Your Grace, I wish to speak to you in private,” Jace asked as he stepped forward, covering Aegon and Helena.

“Jac-“ “ please mother”, Jace said to the queen as he cut her off of any further questioning.

Knowing the seriousness of the situation, Rhaenyra commanded every lord to leave, leaving only immediate family in the room. Jace’s betroth, Daemon and Baela were the only exception as they were absent. Once everyone was situated, Jace passed little Jaehaera to Helaena who held the girl tightly.

“Your Grace, there has been a crime” Jace said with a firm tone and a tense jaw.

“Jacaerys, what do you mean?” Rhaenyra questioned her child.

“An assasination attempt was made to the children of Aegon” Jace continued before finally asking,“Was it you mother?”

“Jace-“ “Was it you mother?” He asked harsher.

“Ja-“ “ Was it?” He shouted. He could no longer contain his anger.

Rhaenys intervened. “You will show respect to the Queen”, she said with a firm tone as she looked at Jace.

“Not when it involved the attempt murder of one of my children”, he said as he looked at his mother.

Gasps were let out from his family. Rhaenyra froze at the words that escaped her son’s lips.

“ What do you mean, your children, Jacerys?” Lord Corlys asked as he pressed further from Jace. He couldn’t believe what he heard.

“ I mean that Aegon’s children are my children. I am their sire.” He said.

Rhaenyra continued to look at Jace with shock.

“When? why? Jace?” She finally asked.

“It was after the dinner” he responded. “ I stumbled across him and we… talked”.

“Talked? You say.” She asked as she looked at her son and then at her brother who continued to look down as he held one of his children.

“Yes, your Grace. After the dinner we talked with each other in the gardens. Harsh words were said and suddenly things changed. His omega called out to me and my alpha to him”Jace continued as he defended their relationship.

With a pointed look, Rhaenyra set her eyes of Aegon.

“… and you brother? What is your side?” Rhaenyra asked as Aegon looked up at her with red rimmed eyes.

“ Your Grace …. My siblings and I were raised to fear you. We were put in our heads since we were children that you were going to kill. Especially me, as I was born as the first son and would pose a threat to you your position.”, Aegon spoke as tears dripped down.

Rhaenyra couldn’t believe what she heard, but Aegon continued. “ Mother and grandsire would scream at us or handle us roughly when we let our guards down around you or your family. So we learned to either ignore you or hate you…”

Rhaenyra was at disbelief as she heard the torture her siblings had to go through. Aemond was already lost to their abuse but she could still save Helena and Aegon. Looking at Aegon, she whispered, “ And Jace?” .

“ Jace..” he whispered with a fond smile “ I loved Jace since the beginning sister…. but like I said, we were taught to hate”, he said.

“But finally talking to him, and having him close again brought a sudden connection. Things then got out of control and it lead to this secret relationship. But I do not regret it one bit as it gave me my children”, he whispered lovingly to his child’s head.

The queen could see the fond look Aegon gave to his children and the fond look her son gave to her brother and their children. Coming to a decision she decided to give refuge to her siblings and the children. She wanted to let them rest and recover before discussing matters with Aegon and Helena.

~

Rhaenyra waited in her quarters are the arrival of her brother and sister. She was informed of how the maesters tended to the their wounds and how the children were afraid at not knowing where they were. But she also heard of how her son went to their quarters and comforted them. He was taking the role of father seriously.

The noise of the door opening made her look up. As her siblings walked in, she could see the clean state they were now in. She also noticed how her son trailed behind his omega. “Jace, I wish to speak to them”, Jace waited before she said, “alone”.

Hesitation could be seen in his movement before Aegon grabbed his hand and whispered, “It’s okay” and “ We will talk later”. As Jace retreated she could see Aegon looking back at him.

“ Pleae, sit” she said. As they sat she saw how tense they were but quiet. They sat near each other as a way to comfort one another.

She finally asked “ Tell me what happened”.

Aegon looked down before finally responding, “ I walked in on two men holding my children after they beat Helena down”,he said.

“They kept taunting me to choose one of my children to kill…. They said a son…for a son”, Aegon said with a crack in his voice as he recalled the image.

Rhaenyra stood frozen at the words. “ Was it you sister?” Aegon asked as tears left his cheeks.

“ No..No Aegon it wasn’t me”, Rhaneyra asked as she stuttered a bit. Yes, her son had died but she didn’t want innocent children to be killed. Instead she wanted Aemond to pay. She remembered after coming back after finding Luke’s clothes and Arrax’s wing, she made a wish. No. He wouldn’t.

Refusing to believe at first, Helaena confirmed her shock. Helaena mumbled, “ The hatchlings are safe from the rats” “ Rats sent by the red dragon”. Daemon.

Rhaenyra could see the sorrow in her siblings face. Quickly grabbing Aegon’s hand she reassured him.

“ No, Aegon it wasn’t me… But I know who it was”, she said. She wanted her siblings to know that she would not put them in harms way. She fully understood how poisoned they were.

“Please sister, please protect us. I will renounce my crown and I will declare you as the rightful queen. Just protect us…please”, he said as he held Rhaenyra’s hands with a tight grip.

Nodding her head, he looked both at his sister and brother with a reassuring look. Before they could fully relaxed he cut them off, “But our other brother can’t be saved… he is a kinslayer. One who has to pay for his crimes ”.

Aegon gulped at his brother’s destiny. Helaena reached for Aegon’s hand as she too thought of Aemond punishment. Gaining courage she whispered, “You won’t find him at kingslanding”.

“What do you mean Helaena?”, Rhaenyra asked curiously.

In turn she responded, “ The green sapphire loses itself at the false seahorse”. Confused Rhaenyra wanted to continue to ask, till the interruption of one of the maids interrupted them.

“I apologize for interrupting your Grace, but the children are asking for their mother”, she whispered as she bowed her head. Standing up to follow the maid and let her siblings go, she was cutoff at the maids apologies.

“The children of Prince Aegon are asking for him. Prince Jacaerys is already there but they want to see their mother”.

Aegon looked as his sister for permission to check on his children. With a quick nod from his sisters he quickly made way for his children. As he drew closer to their quarters, he could hear giggling. He was welcomed to the sights of Jace playing his children. His daughter leaned against his side while their sire ran his hands through the hair of their children. Jace had discovered a strand of brown hair hidden in the blonde hair of his children. A secret giveaway of the connection his children had to him.

Hearing footsteps coming close to them, Jace turned in time to see Aegon coming towards them. He wasn’t the only one to notice as his children turned and shouted “Mother”. They ran to their mother as they attacked him with hugs.

“Oh my sweet children”, Aegon cooed as he hugged his children back.

Jace loved the sight he saw. He could finally be reunited with his omega and form a connection with his children. They at first were scared of him since they had never truly interacted with him or seen him. He himself only caught glimpses of his children as the maids took care of them or when Helena held them, as she acted as their father or mother.

It broke him not being near his children. When he first caught a glimpse of them he couldn’t help but fall in love all over again. They were a spitting image of their mother and now that he had interacted with them, it seemed they had a mixed personality of him and Aegon. They were perfect.

As his children and Aegon got near him, he stood on his feet. Before he could say anything, Aegon walked to him and embraced him. He could finally smell the sweet scent of his omega and Aegon could smell his woodsy scent. They scented one another as a way they showed they belonged to one another. They would make up for the time they were seperated from each other.

Jace rested his forehead on Aegon’s as he caressed his waist. They were lost in their own world until their children got near. They both clung to Aegon’s body and tug on his top to get his attention.

Kneeling to his children’s height, they shyly asked, “father?”. He gave a small smile to his children as he slowly nodded. He caressed their cheeks as he let his own comforting smell fill the room. His children, turned to look at their father and turned to him. Jaehaera broke into a smile before running to her sire’s arms. Jace kneeled to pick her up and hug her. He spun her around and loved the sounds of her little giggles.

Jaehaerys was still close to Aegon, since he was a bit shy to show any emotion, but as Jace put Jaehaera down, he walked to his son cautiously before kneeling down. Waiting for a bit he looked at his son as his son looked at him. Jace was scared that his son would never acknowledge him as his father but a family member. However, little Jaehaerys broke into a shy smile before walking to his father and hugging him. Jace proudly returned the embrace.

Jace continued to bond and play with the children as Aegon did the same but stoped once in a while to admire the sight. Eventually the children fell asleep, so Aegon put Jaehaera to bed and Jace put Jaehaerys to bed. Silently Aegon and Jace sat on a small couch near the fire place. They sat in silence against one another till Aegon rested his head against Jace’s shoulders.

As they looked at the fireplace, Jace drew small circles on Aegon’s hand. The peaceful silence lasted for a long time and eventually they fell asleep with one another. Jace leaned his back against the side of the couch while Aegon was curled to his side. He was now at peace knowing his children and mate were close. He could proudly claim what was his. Both the children and their parents fell to the clutches of the night unaware of the arrival of a certain dragon.

~

Daemon walked through the halls with his cape down. He walked all smug at the idea that the greens would pay, but as he looked up, he saw how every lord and guard avoided his eyes. It was not out of the ordinary for people to fear him but it seemed they acted as he wasn’t there. As he neared the council room, his presence was announced. He expected Rhaenyra and the council to be discussing strategies but was surprised at the lack of lords and only Rhaenyra, lord Corlys and Rhaenys being present.

Lord Corlys and Rhaenys sat at the side, whispering to one another before looking at him. As he neared Rhaenyra, she stood up looking at him with a fierce look. When he reached her, he bowed his head to her before looking up. Ready to receive her affection.

In return, he felt a stinging pain to his cheek as his face turned to the left. Rhaenyra had slapped him.

Turning his head back to her, he was furious of what she had done. He was prepared to warn her before he noticed the glassy eyes of her face.

“What did you do?” She spoke fiercely to him. He smirked at the question.

“Just followed your command, my queen”, he said as he looked at her.

“ I said I wanted AEMOND fucking TARGARYEN”, she shouted him.

Her anger spiked his own anger. “I did what you asked. I sent people to complete the task”, he responded.

“ NO, you disobeyed me and disregarded my command. Instead you were ready to shed blood no matter who it was!” Rhaenyra continued. Daemon continued to become furious at each word she said. He was angry, that once again she defended her beloved greens.

“Why does it matter?! Every fucking green must die?”, he shouted.

“ Not when it involves the attempted murder of one of Jacaery’s children”. Before Rhaenyra could say anything, Rhaenys intervened. Taking Daemon by shock, he turned to look at his cousin.

“What?” He whispered bewildered.

Rhaenyra continued, “ It seems your assassins were going to take the life of one of the children. INNOCENT children.”

“They are lying Rhaenyra”, Dameon tried to say .

“NO THEY ARE NOT FUCKING LYING! Those are Jace’s children and you tried to kill them. You are so blinded by this war that you decided to take actions in your own hands!”, she shouted.

“ That cun-“ “You will say no more.”, Rhaenyra cut him off. “It seems you can not follow a simple command and have decided that you do what you want to do”.

Daemons scoffed at her words before she let out the final blow. “ I can no longer trust you Daemon. So as of now you will stay here and are forbidden from other transgressions”.

He was disbelief, “ They are trying to trick you!”

“They aren’t! Those are Jace’s children! They might be spitting image of Aegon but their scents are a mix of both of them!” She shouted.

“Now, you will do as I say! You are to stay here! And as of now you are to be confined to different chambers till said otherwise.”

“ As you wish my queen!”, he bowed before furiously walking to exit the room.

“ And one more thing Daemon. You are not to go near Aegon, his children or Helaena. If you do, you will face severe punishments.”

Without responding or looking at Rhaenyra he left. Rhaenyra hopes Daemon takes it’s seriously because when an Alpha feels a threat towards their mate and pups, chaos is created. So Jace will do anything to protect his family and she will protect them.

As of now, she must protect those she cares and loves before this war continues.

[panlight]

The first Twilight book ending with so much genuinely intriguing information about Alice that is immediately ignored is so crazy to me that it’s honestly funny.

The other vampires don’t necessarily remember their human lives well compared to their vampire ones but they do clearly have a lot of memories that inform who they are as people. And then we find out that Alice remembers almost nothing about being human and is the only vampire we meet who basically had her entire personality be created from only her vampire life. And the idea of who someone would be if they had only ever been a super powered future seeing non human is interesting, and it would have been especially interesting to see how it makes her act different from the others and perceive the world differently because she wouldn’t in any way identify with humanity or being human and any human experiences.

And then she just is exactly like everyone else and no it didn’t actually affect a single thing about her personality. And the fact that as both a human and vampire she has never experienced time in a linear fashion is way less impactful on her character than one would think beyond that she used future sight as a helpful tool.

Smeyer is so wild for creating genuinely really cool character and world building ideas and then immediately ignoring them and not considering that they would in any way correlate to how that character acts

Oh for sure! There are so many fascinating little character details that just . . . don't . . . go . . . anywhere. Really Alice waking up as a vampire with no memory of anything else is SO interesting and could be such a contrast to the others, but it's only sort of hinted at and doesn't end up really mattering at all. There's Edward's line about how if she hadn't had her ability to see the future and saw Jasper and Carlisle and where her life would end up, she'd probably have turned out to be a feral monster or something and how no one could understand how she could be abandoned like that. SM pays lips service to the idea that Alice doesn't remember being human but she mostly uses that to like, push her into being obsessed with human rites of passage for Bella that she can sort of live vicariously through rather than a deeper, more meaningful exploration of what it would be like to be in Alice's shoes.

Genuinely, I'm fascinated by every single one of the Cullens' stories as newborns except Bella's, because it's just the most boring one. She doesn't give up or lose anything, she doesn't wake up to a world she didn't know existed. She's about as well-informed as a human could be and she wants to be a vampire and is instantly good at it so it's all just so . . . blah. Alice waking up with no memory and superpowers and insatiable thirst is about 1000 times more interesting. Just imagine how disorientating and confusing and frightening that would be! Carlisle lived out his own horror movie as a newborn, being bitten on a vampire hunting raid gone wrong, hiding during his transformation out of fear his father would burn him alive, realizing what he had become and trying to destroy himself before he hurt anyone ending with him starving himself in the woods for months. Jasper, too, had a whole horror movie where he was the nightmarish monster, to humans as well as other vampires. And the other Cullens died and 'woke' up to a new life they had no idea about and had to lean on strangers they either barely knew or didn't know at all. That's the interesting stuff. That's what I like about vampire stories. But these experiences barely matter to how they act in the present day. Jasper's poor self control matters in some scenes and doesn't matter at all in others. Rosalie's baby obsession is a big feature of Breaking Dawn, but Esme, who actually had and lost a baby, might as well be wallpaper in that book. Edward's going on about how could he ever love this thing if it kills Bella, meanwhile Carlisle's mother literally DID die giving birth to him and it never enters the conversation.

And for SM, Alice's whole "doesn't remember being human" ends up being focused entirely on like, shopping and parties and clothes, so she can live vicariously through Bella. And on one hand there's something interesting in there, something pathetic (in the pathos sense) with Alice trying to understand humanity in this sort of superficial way because she doesn't have the experience or memories to go any deeper, but it's mostly portrayed as just wheee isn't Alice fun! I wish I had a sister/best friend like Alice! It's just blatantly obvious that it's less about who Alice is than what she can do for Bella.

Even in New Moon where we find out that Alice has been researching her own history, found her own grave and asylum admission papers, and it goes nowhere! It doesn't change how Alice behaves at all, it doesn't change her relationship with Bella, Bella just kind of goes "huh interesting" and we never hear about it again. I mean Alice goes through it in these books and you wouldn't even know! She finds out that James had hunted her when she was human and this other vampire turned her to save her and died defending her. She finds out she was put in an asylum by her father and he told everyone she was dead. And even though she's the 4th most prominent character after Bella, Edward and Jacob, there's still no room in the Bella-centric narrative for Alice to have the space to actually deal with any of this. She's too busy fulfilling her role as Bella's fairy godmother sister.