#Queens food and wine

[juniorformulamotorsport]

Travel 2023 – Cunard Queen Mary 2 – Day 4 (At Sea)

[miminaka]

エノテカ株式会社さんのInstagram https://www.instagram.com/enoteca_wine/ の投稿内のイラストを描かせていただきました。 今回はネッビオーロです。

[susiecards]

Queen of diamonds

[just-some-random-blogger]

Losing Dogs

Neither you or Aegon wanted to get married. Neither you or Aegon wanted to marry each other. But at some point, you figured you should make the most of what you had, and so you offer your husband a deal he cannot refuse.

Aegon Targaryen x Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, arranged marriage/loveless marriage, smut (piv, virginity loss, rough/loveless sex) DD:DNE, alcoholism, violence, suicide/suicidal thoughts & ideation, mentions of domestic/child abuse, death, pregnancy/miscarriage, aegon's mommy issues, insecurities, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: ... i had something to say about this fic but i forgot... maybe ill remember later???? edit: i did not remember. i thought of mitski while entitling this so go play i bet on losing dogs ig?

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @azperja @sloanexx @risefallrise

You don't know what you have until it's gone.

Aegon only truly understood what this meant the day he was married and he was forbidden to drink a drop of alcohol.

As if it wasn't painful enough that he was going to be married to a complete stranger from some house he's never fucking heard of, he was erratic and uneasy the whole day because of the withdrawal. He loathes the preparation, the ceremony, the fucking pageantry of it all.

He thinks it was worse that you seemed to be so chipper the entire time. You smiled with a halo, skin shining with the light. You also seemingly did no wrong, judging by the praises you received from his mother and grandfather. But, who was he kidding, of course they fucking loved you, they chose you to be his prison keeper.

You did not press him once, not when you were preparing for the ceremony, not when you were at the feast, not even after the Queen encouraged you to dance.

Anyone with eyes could see from how he slumped on his chair during dinner that Aegon would rather die than circle around the room to this grating noise echoing in the chamber.

The band begins to play another song and another round of dancing ensues.

He stares at the food on the table. Oh, to be a suckling pig.

The relief that coursed through him when he could finally leave was enough to knock him out. Except, he really wanted, no, needed a drink.

He crashes on his bed, belly down, and reaches for the cabinet door on his bedside table. He feels for his bottle, hand knocking into the corners of the compartment, but he sits up when he finds nothing.

He growls in frustration upon realizing this was definitely his mother's doing. Thief!

"I managed a cup."

Aegon struggles to look over his shoulder from his position. He rolls on his back as you walk to the side of the bed.

He stares at you. You offer a glass holding burgundy liquid. Your voice is soft and kind as you explain, "your mother would suspect me if I took a whole bottle."

Aegon pushes himself up and sits on the edge of the bed, facing you. He gulps at the wine you were offering.

Sure, he may not be the brightest, but anyone could tell this scene was the epitome of ulterior motives. Aegon leans on his thighs, "why are you doing this?"

You stare a moment. You clutch the cup in both hands and examine it. Again, your voice is gentle, "you are clearly in torment. It hurts my heart."

His eye twitches.

I see. It seems you were a fucking saint.

Aegon rips the glass out of your hands, some of the wine spills over. He downs the contents in one go, then chucks the glass across the room once he finished.

He looks back at you, glaring with watery eyes. He was exhausted, he was angry, and he wanted you to know it. But you don't flinch at the sound of the glass breaking. You didn't flinch at all when he showed aggression. Why didn't you flinch?

You press your lips and sigh. You step towards him and reach out.

He nervously straightens up and tilts his head back as you approach. His breath hitches when your warm hand touches his cheek. He blinks rapidly.

"It's been a long day. Would you like me to help you change?"

Again, his eye twitches.

And then he realizes what you mean.

Ah. So, this is what you wanted?

He releases a breath, eyes lowering. Your face falls into a slight frown.

He thinks about it for a moment. I mean, sex was sex and he was game. It didn't matter how he performed, his completion was all that mattered, really. And you were pretty enough, albeit irritatingly good.

When you stroke his hair, Aegon pulls at your skirts, causing you to squeak and topple, hands flying to his shoulders for support. Your faces are inches apart. He pulls you down until you have no other choice than to sit on his lap.

You can smell the remnants of the wine he just drank on his breath. Aegon brings his face closer to yours, and you let out a soft 'hmp'. You mutter, "I gather you don't want to change, but want to get out of your clothes."

He narrows his eyes as you shift on his lap and undo the buttons by his chest. He mutters dumbly, "this is what you wanted."

With knit brows, you retort, "I've not yet told you what I wanted." You shift on his lap again as you peel his top off. Amidst it, he asks, "what do you want?"

You grunt after ridding him of his top. You fold it in your arms then set it aside on the bed. You turn back to him. Aegon's breath hitches when you fondle with strings of his undershirt. He watches your lips as you mumble, "I want you to give me a ride on your dragon."

He furrows his brows. But that's what he just said.

You stand, only to lift your skirt and take your place back on his lap. This time, you straddle him.

Aegon gulps, hands coming to your hips like a magnet. He feels you grind on him; shaky breaths leave his lips in response. His hands scratch up your back and a moan escapes him when your nails trace his collarbones.

"Allow me one trip on Sunfyre, and in return, I'll be your magic lamp," you whisper, taking one of his hands, bringing it to the side of your ribs, "you may rub me where you like-"

His heart skips when you kiss his cheek.

"-and I will grant you all your wishes."

Aegon ticks.

The next moment, he pushes you down on the bed. He doesn't bother getting either of you naked, nor does he prepare you at all in fact. Thankfully, you were already wet.

You don't have the opportunity to ask him to be gentle, to explain you were a bride after all, and it was your wedding night.

Aegon grips your skirts as he fucks you like he means to prove a point. He snaps his hips roughly into you to assert dominance, to exemplify control. Sure, you offered yourself to him, but he was the one doing the work, and you were the one beneath him.

In truth, the pace he set gave you more pain rather than pleasure. And with how pent up he was, the rough tempo he set burnt him out way too quickly before it could make any of you feel good. And when he begins to lag, you start to feel good.

You notice this change and rub your nose against his. He recoils, unused to affection when fucking. It snaps him back into an aggressive trance.

You yelp. Aegon convinced himself it was a sound of bliss.

You kiss his jaw and work your way to his ear, hoping to calm him down. He tenses at the feel of your tongue on his lobe. It stokes flames in his belly and makes him involuntarily roll his hips slower to focus on the attention you're giving. In return, his pace is just enough for him to hit that spot that makes you throw your head back.

Aegon is startled by the scratchy groan that leaves your throat. He finds himself lifting his head to spectate, but you pull him into you by the nape and groan, "like that. Please- gods - that feels good."

His brows tense and he rolls his hips again, finding the same reaction.

You wrap your arms and legs around him, uncaring of how hot and sweaty you were getting. In the heat of the moment, you reach for his lips, needing them, needing something to wrap your own on.

Aegon kisses you. He kisses you with a strange twinge in his chest. He kisses you until he has to pull away and reposition himself to catch his building climax.

In a second, he's back to his fuck-loving self, only self-serving and lustful. As he gazes upon your writhing body, catching the beads of sweat on your skin, the concentration on your face, and the way you chant his name as you part your legs for him, he's overcome by another spirit. To watch you break, to watch you coil and collapse around him felt just as urgent as his need to come.

And so Aegon rubs your clit and forces you to peak first; you do it so well he curses loudly and comes after.

He lays on top of you for a moment, the overwhelming need to be held ripples through his body. He recalls how his whores shoo him away after he's done fucking them though. Before you can cradle him in your arms, he rolls off you.

You close your legs and and watch him strip himself and sequentially change. You watch him get back in bed and bring himself underneath the covers. He goes to sleep.

He fucking goes to sleep.

You feel hollow after this, but tell yourself it's nothing personal. You repeat this as you, yourself, get up and change, sequentially sleeping too. Or at least you try. You have fight the urge to cry for hours before you do.

The next morning, you bring up dragon riding to Aegon, and disappointed as you are, you are unsurprised to find that he was unwilling to give you such a thing.

It was a plain thing you were asking for, you explain. And it's exactly why he doesn't want to do it. It's clearly some trick, something to trap him, something he's going to regret. It was probably some ploy orchestrated by his mother.

Oh gods, he thinks, it's worse. It's a bonding experience so you can make him into your puppet. Fuck. No.

So, he does what he does best, and makes an excuse, "I don't feel like riding today. I'm still exhausted from the festivities."

You purse your lips and nod, "that's understandable. Would you like for me to get you something?"

Wait. You weren't going to argue about him not keeping his end of the deal?

You seem to catch this, considering your response and the way you take his hand. You place his palm on your chest. He can feel your pulse quicken as you mutter, "I am your magic lamp, husband. I wish to please you. I will prove this until you trust me enough to grant me a ride on dragonback."

He narrows his eyes, "you would grant me wishes, all in return for a ride on Sunfyre?"

You smile softly at him, "in return for respite, yes."

He doesn't trust your smile.

"I want to visit the Grey Cliffs. I have for a years now. I went there once as a child and long to go again."

"Why?" he knits his brows at your explanation, "what's there?"

You lower his hand and rub his skin, "respite, my prince."

Aegon pulls his hand away.

Very well. If that is what you want, then he will wear your wishes dry until you find it no longer worth the trouble.

Aegon wishes on his lamp everyday, and his wife sequentially plays entertainer, jester, servant, and slave.

He makes you bring a bottle of wine with you everywhere, and pour him a cup when he wishes. He loathes how you seem unbothered by it. He loathes how you don't even correct a visiting Lord who mistakes you for a cupbearer and simply serve him some wine. The Lord is mortified when he realizes you are his wife, a fucking princess. Aegon hates how you tell the man you were unbothered because you spent your whole life being a cupbearer to your father anyway.

He makes you do trivial tasks as well, sometimes tasks meant for more than one person at a time, and yet you still manage to do them, annoyingly better than the maids. When he demanded you cook him a full course meal, you did so all by yourself, and had the servants looking at you like you were some goddess.

He ripped a hole in his clothes then made you mend it. You covered the hole so seamlessly that he poked a bigger one right in front of you. And even then you don't give him the satisfaction of getting angry. You tell him you will embroider something on top of the hole and he storms off. He overhears you telling the servants, who applaud your level-headedness, that you were used to angry men, because your father was just the same.

You use each of these moments to somehow tell him you were the perfect wife and he had to oblige your stupid request at some point.

But then he found your flaw.

Aegon asked you to play the harpsichord for him, and you told him you did not know how. The woman who knew all did not know something? He would then proceed to hang this over your head. When he asked you for food, he'd tell you how much better it'd taste if he had entertainment. If he asked you to do something physically taxing for him, he's say that he wouldn't have asked you to do it, had you known how to play his 'favorite' instrument. He would use this as the reason why he could never bring you to Grey Cliffs.

It was all fun and games, but then you had to snitch, hadn't you?

"What are you doing to that poor girl!" Queen Alicent barked, making his ears ring.

Aegon groans from where he lies in bed. His mother rips the blankets off him, making him wake in a sour mood.

"She is your wife!" Alicent yells, "not your slave! Fine, you wish her to do tasks for you, tasks for your betterment. But to insult her standing by treating her like a maid is beneath a prince, Aegon!"

Aegon feels his throat tighten at the sight of his angry mother's face, "she is my wife," he growls, "I do with her as I please."

She strikes his cheek.

Aegon's head whips to the side. He doesn't have the energy to look back at her.

"You will no longer parade her as a cupbearer. I will have it decreed you are not ever served a drop of wine if you don't."

Alicent leaves after this. Aegon's anger explodes when the door closes.

He screams and rips at his hair. He kicks furniture around and eventually drops to the floor, exhausted, furious, and hurt. This was all your fault.

He screams again and claws the tears on his face. He slowly exhales through tight lips. His cheek is hot with saltwater. Who was he joking, this was all him.

This was all Aegon's doing.

His breathing is impeded by snot. He walks over to his window and stares at the ground below. If he jumps head first, not even the best maester in Westeros could fix him.

Before he can lean on the ledge, he is paralyzed in his spot by the sound of the door opening.

"I did not know she would be angry with you," you say.

Aegon looks back.

You see his red eyes and wet skin. He is a mirror to your younger self. You feel sick to your stomach. You try to explain, "I only asked if she could find a harpsichord teacher. I did not realize she would take offense in wanting to learn to play for you."

Aegon's heart aches at your naïve response. You were a stupid, perfect wife, and he, a stupid, petulant husband.

"I'm better off dead," he mumbles, looking back out the window. The call of the fall felt inviting, "want to push me, wife?"

You don't respond.

Aegon looks back at you, and suddenly you're only inches away. He tries to evade you, but you manage to catch his hand.

"We could jump together."

"What?"

Your face is blank. You part your lips, and for a moment, your eyes seem desperate, but then it's gone. You sigh, "dying is quite lonely," looking down, "I could keep you company."

Aegon stares at you. Tears stream down his face. "You're mad," he sniffles, yanking his hand away.

He walks over to his bed and collapses on it. He wraps himself in a blanket and feels sorry for himself, and angry at you for suggesting such a thing. Even now you want to be perfect by dying with him?

"I am," you mutter.

Aegon watches as you walk over to him. You sit on the floor beside his bed and look at your hands as you rub them.

"I cannot play the harpsichord, because my father does not like noise," you explain, "I was not allowed to make a sound or else I would be punished."

Aegon covers his head with a blanket but keeps his face visible, "he beat you, didn't he?"

You look at him, eyes melancholy, but still, he is the only one crying, "he beat everyone."

Aegon does not respond.

"I can sing though."

His brow raises, "how can you sing?"

"I would practice whenever he was gone, and sing for my mother in secret. It made her happy... happy enough."

He knew there was more to this confession, but he was too tired to ask about it, too tired to shed more tears.

"Would you like me to sing for you?"

"No."

"..."

"..."

"Would you like me to hold you?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

You stand from where you sat and get on the edge of the bed. Aegon watches as you slowly lie beside him. You bring an arm over him and pull him close. Aegon closes his eyes as you bring him into your chest.

You hold him until he falls asleep. Later that night, he asks you to hold him again. He also asks you to sing to him.

Aegon nestles his face in the crook of your neck. He wraps his arms around your torso, digging his fingers between your flesh and the bed. Your hushed voice reverberates in the bedroom, the song you sing is haunting and soothing. The vibrations from your chest lull him to sleep. You feel wetness pool by your clavicle but you make no note of it.

Aegon asks you to hold him the next morning after breaking fast. He asks you to stay with him in bed and to sing to him some more. When you have to leave his side, he asks to join you and waits until he can have you in his arms again.

Aegon becomes your shadow, and follows you around, under the promise of getting to share in your embrace. As you read and review letters or ledgers, your seat becomes Aegon's lap. He sleeps against you while you work without a fuss, cheek pressed against your back, arms fastened around your waist.

Sometimes, he notices the line that forms between your brows while you read and at some point, asks about it. You explain what causes it, and he is unmoved, as he is uninterested in politics that stress you. But when you read out to him, he finds comfort in your voice and asks you to read some. He falls asleep to your calm droning of circumstances he could not care less about. He groans and groggily awakens when you stop. He mumbles against your skin that you continue, pleadingly so.

When you had to leave the Keep for business, Aegon insisted that he joined you. When you brushed his cheek and explained to him why he could not go and that you would not be long, Aegon pushed you away and stormed off. You left without him anyway, and the treachery he felt was so great, he realized then how he could no longer go day to day without you. What was there to do, if you were not there?

And so Aegon desperately rubs his magic lamp and wishes upon you.

He wishes that you never leave without him again once you return.

He wishes that you promise to no longer make plans without him.

He traps you beneath him on your shared bed and wishes to be inside you. He kisses you and wishes to see you completely bared to him.

Aegon's mind is dizzy as he gazes upon the glory of your skin. He kisses your thighs, your hips, your breast, your lips.

Aegon wishes to surrender to you. He wishes that you undress him. He wishes to pull you on his body like a blanket. He wishes to see you take control. He wishes to see you cast your eyes upon him and lay your weight on his body.

He wishes to see you use him, to take what you need from him, to pleasure yourself, and to make him yours. He squeezes your thighs desperately when you moan out his name. This was much more maddening that what he imagined it would be.

He wishes to feel you come undone around him. He wishes he could forever feel the pleasure he did when he comes right after you do.

He wishes to hold you after. And when he holds you, when you lay on his chest and kiss him there, he wishes to never leave this moment ever again. He wishes to sing to you like you've sung to him.

"What are your plans tomorrow," Aegon asks as he draws nothings on your back.

You lift your head from his chest. He looks at you. You smile, "whatever you wish them to be."

He rubs your back and smiles, "I wish to take you to the Grey Cliffs."

Your expression drops, "what?"

He raises a brow at your reaction. You shift on your place. You straddle him again.

He looks up at you, noticing the line between your brows. He rubs your thighs, "you've granted me all my wishes. It's time I grant you yours." He shifts on his elbows and sits himself up, "it's time you meet my mount and-"

"We don't have to," you cut him off, placing your hands on his shoulders.

Aegon examines your expression. He listens to you sigh.

"I'd like to keep you-- wish to keep you..." you correct yourself, pushing him back down.

He looks up at you, feeling your hands rake up his body.

"...just like this," you finish, eyes solemn, lips curving into a soft smile, "I've not felt a thing like this in my entire life."

Aegon takes one of your hands and places it on his cheek. He whispers it like a secret, "neither have I."

You lean down to kiss him, "I wish to keep like this."

He kisses you back.

He is blindsided by how his wishes came to bite him in the arse. It's all crashing down on him. Suddenly, he wishes he didn't actually do any of those things with you.

He most of all wishes he heard you wrong. He wishes you didn't repeat yourself when he stupidly said, "what?"

"I'm with child," you speak slower, less excited yet excited still.

Aegon wishes you didn't look so excited. He wishes he fucking pulled out, but gods, you felt so good-- you feel so good around him, he felt so good inside you.

He realized the next moment, it couldn't be helped. You were going to have to bear his spawn at one point or another. He wishes you didn't have to. He wishes his seed wouldn't take completely. He wishes you don't take it to term. He wishes he won't have to be a father. Fuck.

He realizes he's been too quiet and you were waiting for a response from him. Your face began to twist. Your smile fades.

"Congratulations," Aegon musters. He feels like he swallowed a metal ball. His eyes wander to your belly. He mumbles mindlessly, "I suppose."

Your face falls.

Aegon looks back at you. Your face is devoid of any semblance of the glow it normally holds. You look sick. You feel sick.

"I see," you say, unintentionally allowing him to hear your voice break. Aegon's brows furrow at it.

He shakes his head, "you will be a great mother," he chuckles dryly, "you mother me so well."

You offer him a smile, but Aegon can see how disconnected it was from your eyes. You say, "thank you."

When you leave him after this, he wishes he hadn't said a word. He wishes he just left it at congratulations. He wishes he just pretended like the idea of having a child didn't mortify him and make him sick to his stomach. He wishes he wasn't so ill-suited to be a father.

Ageon no longer wishes for anything after this.

He no longer wishes to hold you, though he so badly wanted to. He no longer wishes to hear you sing, nor does he wish to hear you read to him. He no longer wishes to be around you, though his body urged him to follow you around like the lost soul he was.

He wishes he didn't wonder what you were doing at every moment of the day. He so desperately wishes to rid you from his mind completely that he drowns himself in his first and only true love, alcohol.

Fuck. He wishes he hadn't taken this route to his room. He wishes you hadn't taken this route to wherever it was you were going. He wishes he just turned around and fled like the coward he was, because then, you wouldn't have spoken to him.

"Husband," you curtsey.

Aegon stiffens and uncomfortably avoids your eyes.

You catch it, feeling your chest tighten painfully. You clear your throat and take a deep breath to steel yourself, "I thought you should know that I will be travelling."

Aegon looks at you.

"I have a ship ready and I'll be visiting the Grey Cliffs. Do not wait up for me."

His face falls. He opens his mouth, but doesn't have an opportunity to speak.

"I thought you should also know that I am no longer carrying."

His eyes widen.

"It's not an uncommon occurrence the first few months," you say simply, "I suppose the gods do not wish me to be a mother."

Aegon feels like a murderer. He wants to say something, to apologize, to comfort you, but he can't. He's too taken aback to do a single thing.

He turns into stone when you take his hand. You step forward and place his palm on your chest. Your heart is slow as you speak, "you won't have to worry about anything anymore, Aegon. Today is the end of our shared torment."

Aegon's stomach drops when you kiss him.

His eyes are glassy. You pull away before he can kiss you back. He wants to hold you, but the sadness in your eyes reminds him he is undeserving. You kiss his wrist, "goodbye, my love. I love you."

His heart thumps as you walk away.

Aegon is manic. He basks in the mess he's made and feels crushed by it all.

He finally acts after wasting so much time feeling sorry for himself. You were long out of his sight by the time he started running. This is why he headed to the dragonpit and got on Sunfyre.

"WAIT!" he screams, just as your boat leaves the dock.

Aegon watches as you run to the edge of the boat. He lands Sunfyre and runs as far to the edge of the docks as he could.

"Aegon-"

"Take me with you!" he pleads, "let me be the one to take you to where you must go!"

You look back. The ship stops. The crew brings down a boat and on it, you are rowed back to the dock.

He crushes you in his arms once he reaches you.

"Aegon," you mutter.

"Forgive me," he shudders, "I... I wish you let me do this for you."

"Aegon," your voice croaks. You push him away, "go home."

His heart drops. He breaks away to look at you. Your words feel like a stab at his thorax. It was presumptuous of him to assume you'd want him back, but it doesn't kill him inside any less.

"I've come to realize this is a trip I must go on myself," you mutter.

He shakes his head, "no. Please." He motions an arm out to his mount, "one wish. That I grant you one wish before you throw me away forever is... is--"

Your throat constricts at his words. Tears rush down your eyes, "I'm not throwing you away--"

"Please," he squeezes both your hands in his, "please, let me do this for you."

The flight to the Grey Cliffs is quiet, save for the whoosh of winds and the roars of the golden dragon you both rode. You always imagined it would be freeing, but only now did you know how it freeing it truly felt to fly. You knew now you'd forever chase the euphoric crush of air against your skin.

Aegon, who sat behind you, looks at your form as you outstretch your arms and close your eyes. Your body presses against him, and in this moment, he is unable to hold back from wrapping an arm around you and sparing a kiss on your shoulder. You are snapped out of your trance because of this.

The Grey Cliffs are dark and gloomy when you get there. Aegon realizes when you land that it got its name from the weather conditions.

He helps you down and surveys the area, trying to make out which part of this drear land was so special to you that you wished to go here.

You catch his expression and squeeze his hand.

Aegon turns to you.

You give a solemn look, "the view is better on the edge."

Aegon strokes Sunfyre's cheek, commanding him to stay before you lead him by the hand to the edge of the cliff. Once you get there, he feels queasy looking down at the crashing waves far beneath him. In contrast, you seem comforted by the view. His brows furrow at the deep breath you give out.

When you look at him, his stomach feels it, the comfort you felt upon witnessing the violent waves. Whatever it was that compelled you to this place was the same force that compelled him to kiss you.

He reaches out for your cheek, his other hand coming to you back. He pulls you close. His heart twinges when you stop him from kissing you.

"Aegon-"

"Forgive me," he cuts, "I beg."

You gawk at him. He brushes your hair which was wildly flinging with the breeze.

"You must know by now that I am craven. I lack the spine and the wit to be of any use to you."

Your eyes water. Your lips quiver.

"I would be a hopeless father, worse than my own, no doubt."

"Aegon," you babble as sobs overtake you.

Aegon, himself, succumbs to tears. He wipes the ones streaming down your face before taking a breath, "but you made me feel a love I do not deserve."

You swallow a heavy lump in your throat.

"I love you," he confesses.

"No," you pierce his heart. You shake your head in disagreement, "Aegon, this is a mistake. Bringing you here was a mistake."

"No!" he blurts louder than needed, "this was a choice," he looks down, "I choose to rip my insides out for you to devour. I am miserable, much more in the heat of your hate, but most of all without you."

His downturned eyes land on your face when you grab his wrists. You croak, "I do not hate you."

Aegon is not relieved by the admission, but he chooses to believe you mean it. He smiles softly, "good."

"But I do hate this life I live."

He clenches his jaw. Of course you do.

"You saved me," you press a hand on his cheek, taking your turn to wipe his tears, "even if for a moment."

"I made you miserable."

You chuckle. The sound makes his heart skip.

"You filled my life with purpose," you smile softly, "even when you did not mean to."

Aegon knits his brows deeply and takes your hands. He brings them to his lips and kisses them.

"But accidents happen. You must remember that accidents happen all the time."

Aegon shakes his head, "this is not an accident. Believe me when I say I chose to do this, I- ... I choose to love you."

You sob and turn to your feet.

"Please... believe me."

You sniffle and nod, slowly looking up at him, "I believe you."

You lunge into his arms and seal him into a tight hug. He hugs you back like it's his only way of surviving.

A crack of thunder startles Sunfyre. He becomes restless and steals away Aegon's attention, panicked that he might flee and leave them here.

He pulls away and takes a step towards her. He holds your hand, urging you to follow, "we should go before it rains."

You hug him from behind and press your face into his back, "thank you for taking me on Sunfyre."

"It was a long time coming."

"I've always wondered what it would be like to fly. And now that I know how peaceful it is, I'm ready to fly one last time."

He turns to you as you slowly come to his side. You hold his hand. He looks at you as you turn to Sunfyre. He promises, "I will take you on dragonback as many times as you wish."

You smile, but your eyes are fixed on his dragon. You release his hand and wrap your arms around yourself, "he is beautiful. You must never tire looking at him."

Aegon gazes upon Sunfyre. He takes in his golden scales and has newfound appreciation.

You take a step back.

"He is. To be honest, it's been long since I, myself, took him out of the pit. He must enjoy this day as much as you do."

"Aegon, you must understand that what I have to say has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me."

Aegon turns to you. He watches you tighten your arms around yourself. You must be cold. He rubs your shoulders.

You shake your head and turn him back to his dragon, "look at Sunfyre."

He knits his brows, "I'm looking."

"For so long," you release him, "I've wanted to fly free, to find my peace here in the cliffs. This was before I even met you." You point at the golden dragon, "I choose to love you too, but accidents happen, like if Sunfyre were to fly away, and you were to be left here alone."

Aegon stares at his ride for a moment as you lower your hand. He tries to makes sense of your words, but he cannot for the life of him understand.

He sighs, "what accident? Why do you keep-"

Aegon is flooded by confusion when he turns and finds you nowhere behind him. A split second later, he lets a horrified scream and the fear that claws into him makes his knees buckle. He crumbles to the ground and crawls to the edge of the cliff. He screams so loud that Sunfyre roars back and comes towards him.

Aegon watches as the red seafoam bubbles at the foot of the cliff. He watches as the crimson waves slowly slosh back into its original tint.

Rain begins to pour, and his tears taste no longer salty.

Was this the flying you ached for? Was this the relief you sought?

When he returns to King's Landing, dripping wet, he breaks down in front of his mother, weeping as he clutched his skirts.

Queen Alicent is obviously disturbed. She instructs her servants to get his son a change of clothes and some towels. She looks down at him, "what's happened? What's wrong, Aegon?"

"An accident-" he barely manages to say, "there's been an accident."

"An accident?!"

Aegon's mind goes blank. A bitter taste

You don't know what you have until it's gone.

[dreammfyre]

wedding celebration ⋆ jacaerys velaryon

SUMMARY. You are the only Rhaenyra and Harwin’s daughter. Jacaerys is your brother, but is engaged to Baela Targaryen and this is the celebration of their wedding announcement.

WARNINGS. +18. Targaryen incest, rude Jacaerys, AU (no Dance of the Dragons, Rhaenyra is the Queen of Seven Kingdoms.)

The engagement celebration was overwhelming and exhausting for you. The queen did not skimp on the grandeur of the event, a dinner full of variety and fresh delicacies, fruits, desserts, large platters of roasted meats that they tore to shreds leaving only the bones. All to celebrate in grand style the marriage of her first son with the daughter of Daemon Targaryen.

For you it was being a bore, sitting next to your brother Lucerys Velaryon who was talking with Rhaena Targaryen. Everyone was enjoying the dragon riders, while you just wanted to escape from the hall where the music, the shouting and the applause made it impossible to have a conversation. Sitting down you played with the food left on your plate, moving your fork side to side without purpose in that place, no one spoke to you, and when they did it was to talk about the couple of the moment. You were trying to get your mother's attention sitting next to Daemon, but she was too busy attending to everyone, always smiling and raising her glass to Jacaerys and Baela to look at you. On your other side, your little brother, Joffrey, was trying to convince you to dance a piece, but you refused for shame of falling down in the attempt.

You watched your brother Jacaerys laugh whispering in his betrothed's ear. But when he looked at you you looked away immediately. You felt your face hot with embarrassment at being discovered, but deep down you didn't mind being unwelcome.

A knight of House Lannister approached the table you shared with your family to ask if you wished to dance with him. Distressed to answer, you looked at your mother pleading for help, but Rhaenyra forced you to stand up for the first time since the event began and do some socializing, something you find very difficult to do.

It was awkward throughout, he just showed you off like a trophy and never looked you in the eye you felt like the song went on for hours. You went round and round, when he touched you a little rejection won you over and you ended up taking a step back. Your smell of alcohol gave you away as did your clumsy and uncoordinated movements. A few meters away, Prince Jacaerys noticed the situation, attentive if his sister needed help. He didn't like to see you with other men, they didn't know how to treat you and that was further proof, he noticed you uncomfortable looking at the exit constantly touching your waist too long. He took the opportunity to get close to your face, he didn't listen to what you were saying but from your facial expression he didn't need to know.

"Is something wrong?" asked Baela noticing that her fiancé was too distracted. Jacaerys immediately denied without arousing suspicion, but without ceasing to be attentive to the situation assuming that he was just behaving like an older brother protecting his sister.

While you continued to dance the extensive choreography you exchanged glances with your brother. None of them looked down, Jacaerys' tense jaw reflected his annoyance.

"You look especially beautiful tonight, my princess," said the blond-haired gentleman, gaining your attention. "The red brings out your look."

Without realizing it, you smiled. It was the first time anyone had complimented your dress that you designed, until the wine glass your escort was holding spilled on you when another gentleman accidentally pushed it. You let out a small scream as you felt the liquid on your skin, the fabric absorbed all the alcohol ruining the golden color of the embroidery.

"Gods." You whispered annoyed looking at the mess you brought on yourself. You looked at the queen who stood attentive to you, Jacaerys stopped suddenly leaving Baela dancing alone by her side who in the happiness of her engagement was not attentive to her guests. "My dress…"

"My princess, I am sorry. I didn't mean to." Said the knight wiping a cloth across your torso, drying a few drops of wine.

"Don't touch me!" You exclaimed when his fingers brushed your chest, an unpleasant and invasive sensation. People turned at your shout and at all that attention you ran, finally escaping the room amidst malicious whispers that were sure to become controversial by tomorrow.

Locked yourself in your room staring at the reflection of the stain I had left on you, cursing yourself for agreeing to leave your safe place in the chair next to your mother and now your favorite dress was ruined. Your fingertips had also turned crimson and you reeked of alcohol.

Not even a minute passed when there was a loud knock on your door, startling you by the unexpected. You approached taking a deep breath so as not to sound distressed or upset.

"I'm fine, mother. I'd rather stay and rest." You said, complimenting yourself for sounding so convincing.

"Let me through." You opened your eyes when Jacaerys' voice was heard on the other side. You immediately opened the door and your brother entered your quarters, which he knew by heart, and hurriedly closed the door before a guard discovered them. You didn't reach to say anything when he rushed to ask. "Did he do something to you?"

"What are you doing here, idiot? You're the fucking groom."

"Did he touch you?" he kept asking, looking at you intently, scaring you. "Damn it. Answer me, did he dare offend you?"

"Balea must be worried about you, must go back." You raised your voice, annoyed by your brother's recklessness. "Her Majesty must be asking about you and I don't think Daemon would be amused if you left his daughter alone in the middle of the celebration."

"Let them ask whatever they want, you know I care little for them and they'll have a hard time finding me."

"Don't tell me lies. You're the heir, all eyes are on you now, it's only natural that you care about your reputation." You said turning your back on him, you weren't angry, you were just being realistic. You didn't want him to look at you. "You need to go back, Jace, your fiancée is probably looking for you around the castle and she's not going to want to find you here."

"You think I want this for myself?" his question sent chills down your spine, Jacaerys' tone sounded hurt. "You must understand what it means to do the duty of our position."

Damn. You thought. That conversation again.

"Do you really want to talk about this right now?"

You heard his footsteps, the right thing to do was for him to leave you alone, but his hands came to rest on your shoulders. An intense sensation ran up your neck as his breath hit your cold skin. His pointed nose touched your back awkwardly moving unsure of his decisions, hands shifted to your waist clinging tightly without letting go. You couldn't control yourself, Jacaerys was yours, you hated to see him with another lady.

"Jace." You whispered with your eyes closed. You wanted to say with all your might that it wasn't right, but the warmth of his breath and his fingers touching yours was so much better.

"Just shut up, can you?" He ordered plaintiff. "And don't call me a liar, that makes me mad, you know it."

Listening to him angry you loved it, he was always so correct but when they were alone you couldn't control it.

You could fall into his arms easily, he had the demanding tone you need to hear. You turned around looking for his mouth desperate to kiss him, to reaffirm that he has been yours forever. His wet lips with yours knew each other perfectly, you were not new to this nor had you spoken of leaving him. Jacaerys took your neck with his hand squeezing gently, but enough to know he didn't want you to move. His tongue entered your mouth invading your space, desperate for your touch he cupped your cheek. You ran your hand through his long hair, tangling your fingers in his curls pulling them pulling his body closer to yours.

"Do you want to do it now?" he growled between your lips without letting go of your waist. You nodded without hesitation forgetting the fear of being discovered, you were so needy and only he could help you. "Gods, you're such a good sister."

Between wet kisses and ragged breaths they reached your bed which was perfectly tidy. His suit with the symbol of House Targaryen stood out on his chest, he sat on the edge waiting for you to sit on it, when you did he kissed your bare neck leaving marks that he cared little if they showed later, he wanted to mark you, that no one would look at you, but the idea that you were desired by the knights he always liked because he could have you while the others only desired you.

"That idiot won't bother you again." He muttered with difficulty, but convinced to keep his word for you. "Vermax will turn it to ashes."

You were so wet that any touch was going to make you scream in orgasm. Jacaerys was your first man and you didn't want anyone to be your second. The first time Jacaerys was gentle and soft with you, but the more they repeated it, hidden from the eyes and ears of others, you experienced more things that pleased both. Your favorite place was the bed, you could do many things there and get into various positions that made you feel more of him.

"We don't have much time, darling." Said the boy tucking a strand of your long hair behind your ear. "We can save that for another day."

In a hurry and a little clumsy, you pulled up the long skirt of your dress just enough to be exposed above it, none of you were naked, you could imagine that the celebration had not stopped in the absence of the prince nor yours. Jacaerys also settled down below you without taking his eyes off you at any time, thinking that he did not want any maiden, however pure and elegant. That wasn't the first time time time had worked against them, but the adrenaline rush was unique, like riding dragons. The sex felt much better though.

"Come here." He commanded with dilated pupils, tired and anxious from so much waiting to feel you. His hot member brushed against your wet entrance unleashing an intense sensation that made you moan but without opening your mouth. Jacaerys' hands slipped under your dress while you didn't let go of his shoulders so you wouldn't lose your balance, your knees bent on the mattress giving you comfort and the prince sitting under you, watching your every expression.

"You don't know how much I was looking forward to having you again." You said panting, your skin beginning to flush from the heat emanating from your bodies. "Promise you won't leave me." You said taking her face in your hands, desperate for the rubbing between your legs. "Get fucking married, but you'll keep coming back to me."

When he entered you let out a sweet moan that you tried to hide by covering your mouth. Jacaerys threw his head back taking a moment to accommodate you, you were so wet he slid in easily reaching your bottom in a matter of seconds. You squeezed his shoulder reflexively and he smiled when he heard you moan.

"Look at me." He commanded taking in your hot face, you found it hard to concentrate feeling him so deep inside you, but you looked into his eyes. "I will always come back to you." Replied.

And that was what you needed to hear.

You moved up and down slowly, Jacaerys moans giving you more pleasure from the movements and the feeling between your legs. The prince closed his eyes tensing his jaw holding his cum so fast, you kissed him biting his thick lips at the same time moaning louder.

You were clothed but it felt so good to feel his member rubbing against your walls that you just wanted to increase the speed. Jace enjoyed feeling you, with your hands he pulled down the front of your stained dress to let your breasts out. He took one between his big hands to squeeze it mercilessly, making you moan, you were very sensitive to any touch and your brother knows how to take you to the max.

"Jace." You gasped without stopping.

"Go on." He challenged you.

You listened to him, obviously. You were convinced that if at that moment Baela Targaryen entered you would not mind if she found you riding her future husband.

You felt him hard and hot, you watched him writhe with pleasure under your body, you kept moving until you couldn't hold back the urge to speak.

"Do you know what that man told me?" You asked pausing for a second, Jacaerys eyes opened still inside you, you caressed his open, swollen lips. "If I married him I was never going to be short of a good fuck."

The prince's expression changed completely, you knew what you had just done and you didn't regret it. He grabbed you by the waist and turned you over on the bed leaving you exposed to his desire and discomfort. He quickly pulled your dress up again entering you, this time without softness or gentleness that characterized him, you screamed forgetting that you should keep quiet to guard his secret, but he grabbed you so tightly and kept moving behind you.

"Do you like it like this?" he asked agitated, moving back and forth constantly, you were clinging to the sheets. You nodded unable to modulate a statement. "No one can touch you." He kept up the accelerated pace. You stuck your cheek to the mattress in pain but the sensation in your legs was growing, the friction was getting more and more delicious and rough, it was something new that you liked. Your brother's hands were marked on your skin, there was less and less time left to feel the orgasm. You wanted him to know what he was going to miss out on by marrying another woman.

"Jaca-Jacaerys." You tried to speak.

"A little more." He begged.

You couldn't stand the pressure growing under her belly any longer, your legs faltered and your chest couldn't expand any more. You stood there for a few seconds recomposing yourself, trying to get the air back into your hot agitated lungs. You turned to look at him, he looked exhausted, his skin red and curls in disarray. You had never felt his anger or jealousy over you.

You sat on the edge of your bed while he quietly adjusted his pants. Jacaerys looked at herself in the mirror, adjusting her hair, her suit, trying to conceal it. You didn't know whether to speak or remain silent.

"I'll go back to the celebration." He said without looking at you.

"It's okay." You whispered tidying the long skirt of the frayed dress. "I think so do I."

The prince turned with an expression of unpleasant surprise. "Are you serious?"

"Sure. I'm going to change this fucking dress first." You affirmed with an innocent smile. Your hair messy, your lips swollen and wet were still warm. "Congratulations for your wedding; brother." You scoffed.

Jacaerys grabbed your jaw hard stealing a long kiss that you didn't manage to escape. He looked at you disapprovingly. "You’re wicked."

[daycourtofficial]

In a world of boys, he’s a ✨gentleman✨

Summary: based on this request - your friends help walk you through all the nice things Azriel does for you

Author’s note: I forgot all about this tbh lmao why was this just sitting in my drafts all alone

“I think Azriel has the best manners,” Feyre says, her cheeks glowing from the wine, wisps of brown hair coming out from her braid.

“And the biggest wingspan,” Mor adds, raising her blonde eyebrows.

“I’m serious,” Feyre turns to Mor, “he’s so polite, he cleans up after himself, he treats (y/n) like a queen, he-“

You choke on your wine. “Treats who like what?”

Mor slaps your shoulder, causing you to almost spill your glass. “Oh, do not start this again, I will scream.”

“Start what?”

Mor rolls her eyes, falling back on the couch, “pretending like you don’t know how nice Azriel is to you.”

Your face heats involuntarily. “He’s very nice to me, I’m well aware of that. He’s a nice guy.”

Mor groans, getting up for more wine, “see! This is what I’m talking about!”

Nesta and Feyre giggle, but you sit up, “what do you mean what you’re talking about? What is wrong with me thinking that he’s nice to me?”

Feyre’s giggles continue, “it’s not that, sweetie. It’s just… he’s exceptionally nice to you.”

“So? We’re friends.”

Mor chimes in, “if any male was as nice to Nesta as Azriel is to you, Cassian would slit his throat.”

“Cassian’s more of a hands-on brute, but I see your point,” Nesta corrects.

“Friends don’t act like the two of you do,” Feyre muses, refilling her wine glass.

Soft touches, sitting needlessly close to each other at gatherings, Feyre catching the two of you napping on her couch on multiple occasions.

“He always blushes around you,” Elain observes.

Images of Azriel’s reddened cheeks and ears flood your memory, and how adorable you’d find it.

“He always asks you if it’s okay for him to pick you up to fly.”

A montage of soft “may I?” and “is this okay?” flutter through your mind. His soft touches of your hair when you’d take off, knowing it was your least favorite part, trying to comfort you in some way.

“He pulls out your chair for you at every family dinner.”

“-and plates her food!”

Azriel’s scarred hands grab the back of your chair, a soft scraping noise filling your ears, replaced by your soft “thank you”.

He sits next to you, grabbing your plate reflexively, piling it with roast, carrots, and potatoes, knowing to avoid the celery.

You thank him again, oblivious to Cassian’s exasperated arm movements at the two of you, as well as Nesta’s immediate swatting of him.

Elain giggles, “he always comes by every Sunday asking me to help him arrange a bouquet for her.”

Nesta smirks as the other two females let out soft “ooooh”s, as if you all were gossipy teenagers. Maybe you were. Your eyes draw towards the bouquet sitting on the table in front of Elain, the pink and yellow hues making you smile.

“He always has a hand on you whenever you’re out in town.”

The warmth from his hand is a welcome presence on your lower back as you two push through the crowds of the Velaris stalls. You prefer going out into town with him in tow - he was much taller than you and could see over the crowds.

Not to mention how he carried all of your bags and you spent the rest of the day catching his scent on your clothes afterwards.

“I’m not even sure you own your own coat from him lending you his.”

Nights out at Rita’s always ended with the two of you walking along the Sidra, his arm around your shoulder. He’d always wait for you to start shivering before placing his coat around your shoulders, helping your arms into the sleeves.

You scratch at your neck, uncomfortable with all the attention on you. “That doesn’t mean anything… right?”

Mor huffs, dramatically falling back on the couch after draining her glass, “I can’t explain this again.”

“Ask him out,” Feyre says, while Nesta nods her head, “just do it.”

As if the Mother herself were in the room gossiping with you all, Azriel strolls into the room, a bit shocked when five pairs of eyes peer back at him, amusement in four pairs, adoration in one pair.

You can’t help the smile that graces your face when you see him, and Nesta loudly placing her cup on the table jolts you out of your trance.

“Will you- would you,” you clear your throat, rushing the words out before you get too scared, turned in your seat to peer at him, “would you like to have dinner? Tonight? With me? Alone?”

Mor and Feyre are trying, but failing, to hold in their giggles at your nervousness, but you have completely forgotten they were in the room with you.

Azriel’s lips curve into a smile, “I would love to. I can pick you up at 7?”

[heartlilith]

WHAT THE VENUS SIGNS REMIND ME OF

🩷Oddly specific things I think about when I hear ______ venus

Aries Venus: Summer, rubies, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, rollercoasters, fast cars, the color red, vampire fangs, Saturday nights, liquor stores and gas stations, fireworks, sour candy, cool bic lighters, “you’re mine”, Mario Kart, boys who wear nail polish, fuck it energy, oversized sweatshirts, middle finger emoji, cherries

Taurus Venus: Satin pillowcases, white candles, pearls, mirrors, hand holding, walking someone home at night, vinyls, red lipstick, full lips, fancy dinner dates, the wine and dine, old romantic movies, wallets and purses, hotels, French manicures, old money, “I won’t get on my knees for no man”

Gemini Venus: Driving around at night listening to music, reading to someone, comedy shows, mimosas, Samantha from Sex and the City, libraries, nerd kink, hot teachers/student kink, emerald green, laughter, swing sets, looking out of the window and just watching, untied shoelaces, dogs and puppies, dad jokes

Cancer Venus: Soft feather pillows, a bowl of warm soup, a bubble bath, tears and running mascara, babies and how babies laugh, poetry, “I’ll be whatever you want me to be”, hot tubs, hot coffee, teddy bears, heartbeats, soft hands & skin, lotion, bagels and cream cheese, doodling in your journal

Leo Venus: Lip gloss, mojitos, getting drunk at brunch, diamond tennis bracelets, drunk texts you regret sending later, the block button, lonely nights, shooting stars, blowing bubbles, piggy back rides, art museums, glittery eyeshadow, jumparoos, birthday parties

Virgo Venus: Taking a shower, Dove soap, smooth skin, symmetry, butterflies, the smell of books, getting a facial or going to the spa, chicken caesar salads, the good tasting water, chunky headphones, acoustic guitar, running errands, getting your eyebrows done, neat handwriting, neutral colors, sushi

Libra Venus: Blush, dimples, Y2K fashion, Hello Kitty, makeup skills, those little hand mirrors, princes and princesses, cupcakes, pedicures, Margaritas, taking pictures, art, castles, Disney movies, daisies, spin the bottle, cartwheels, soft hair, bubblegum, skincare, watermelon and pineapple

Scorpio Venus: Psychology, neck tattoos, “until death do us part”, Kings & Queens, snakes, sacred sex, chess, secrets, hickeys, the feeling after you stay up all night, the feeling of being at a concert, roses, knives, tequila shots, legs intertwined, dirty martinis, sparklers, Avril Lavigne, fantasy books, true crime and dark history

Sagittarius Venus: Clouds, rock climbing, rappers, Hip Hop and R&B, going on vacation, açaí bowls and fresh fruit, sun kissed/radiant skin, the color yellow, retreats, history, yoga and Pilates, spicy food, “it is what it is”, curly hair, the smell of weed, casinos, the last day of school, Las Vegas

Capricorn Venus: Leather, red wine, the cow pattern, cowgirl boots, the color brown, espresso, dark chocolate, briefcase of money like in the movies, the movie Scarface, whiskey on the rocks, bosses, owls, turtle necks, caramel, wearing suits, lingerie, business, New York City

Aquarius Venus: Lightbulbs, telescopes and microscopes, LED lights, hamsters, college parties, glitter, peace signs, 70s concerts, food trucks, skipping school, “fuck it”, diving in the pool, the beach at night, disco balls, getting detentions in school

Pisces Venus: Mermaids, kittens, cartoons and Disney princesses, champagne, Webkinz, little kid stories like Goldilocks, 3 Little Pigs, Hansel and Gretel, clear glittery lip gloss, holographic, snowmen and icicles, swimming in the pool, flower gardens, glow sticks , picnics, bumblebees, sand castles, elementary art class, 3D movies

Book a Reading 🩷

Masterlist 🩷

[novaursa]

Web of Gold (honeymoon)

- Summary: Alicent could only watch as you handle her son like a lioness who plays with her food.

- Paring: lannister!reader/Aegon II Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: royal wedding

- Next part: addendum

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @purple-1995 @thisbiann @whiteoakoak

The tour of the realm—the grand honeymoon Aegon had so eagerly promised—was supposed to be a diplomatic gesture, a way for you and your new husband to visit various lords and strengthen alliances. In reality, however, it was quickly becoming one of the most entertaining—and slightly absurd—experiences you had ever endured.

From the moment you and Aegon set out from King’s Landing, it was clear that Aegon had no intention of treating this tour with the gravitas expected of a king and queen. He was far more interested in the celebration aspect of things. Every castle you visited, every hall you entered, Aegon treated as if it were a grand feast thrown in his honor, no matter what the occasion.

It started in the Reach, where you were welcomed with open arms at Highgarden by Lord Tyrell, who was clearly under the impression that this would be a formal visit of state. But Aegon, with a goblet of wine already in hand before your first meeting even began, made it quite clear that he had different priorities.

“My lord,” Aegon said with a broad grin, clapping the startled Tyrell lord on the back, “I’ve heard your harvests are the finest in the realm, and your wines even finer. Let’s see if your reputation lives up to the tales!”

You had to stifle a laugh as the poor lord blinked, clearly taken aback, but before he could respond, Aegon had already started ordering another round of drinks for the both of you, as if this were a tavern and not the stately halls of Highgarden. Needless to say, the formal diplomacy soon devolved into an impromptu drinking competition between Aegon and Lord Tyrell, which ended, unsurprisingly, with Aegon declaring himself the victor—though the Tyrell lord was too tipsy to argue by the time it was over.

You leaned over to Aegon at one point, watching him slosh another goblet of wine in his hand as he grinned widely. “Aegon, darling,” you said with mock seriousness, “I do believe we were supposed to discuss matters of state, not… sample the entire vintage of the Reach.”

Aegon chuckled, leaning in to press a sloppy kiss to your cheek. “Oh, Y/N, don’t be so serious. I’m the king; I can do both.” He winked at you, though his aim was slightly off, thanks to the wine. “Besides, isn’t this more fun?”

It was hard to argue with him when you were laughing as much as he was. And while you certainly hadn’t expected the tour to take this direction, you had to admit—it was far more entertaining than sitting through endless, dull meetings.

After Highgarden, you traveled to the Riverlands, where Lord Tully welcomed you with a lavish banquet. It was supposed to be a more subdued affair, given the Riverlands' recent struggles with uprisings, but Aegon once again found a way to turn the evening into something far less formal. By the time the main course had been served, Aegon had somehow convinced the entire Tully family to join him in an impromptu archery competition in the courtyard, all of them still in their fine dinner attire.

“Come now, Y/N,” Aegon called to you from across the courtyard, bow in hand. “Join me! Let’s show them how it’s done.”

You raised an eyebrow, standing at the edge of the gathering with a goblet of wine in hand. “Are you suggesting I try to shoot a bow in this gown?” you asked, glancing down at the intricate layers of silk and embroidery. “I’m sure the Tullys would love that.”

Aegon grinned, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “If anyone can pull it off, it’s you.”

Rolling your eyes but unable to resist, you made your way over to him, accepting the bow he handed you with a flourish. The lords and ladies gathered around watched with varying degrees of amusement, clearly not expecting much from the queen. But with a wink at Aegon, you drew the bowstring and released the arrow, which sailed through the air and landed with a satisfying thunk—right in the center of the target.

The crowd erupted into applause, and Aegon let out a loud cheer, clearly more impressed than anyone else. “That’s my queen!” he declared, throwing an arm around you and pulling you close, much to the delight of the watching lords and ladies.

By the time you reached the Stormlands, word had spread about the rather unconventional nature of your tour, and Lord Baratheon greeted you both with a knowing smirk. “I hear you’ve been making quite the impression across the realm,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement.

Aegon grinned, clearly proud of himself. “Ah, well, I find it’s better to… engage with the people, you know? Keep things lively.”

You smiled sweetly at Lord Baratheon, though you could see the glint of amusement in his eyes as well. “It’s true,” you added. “Aegon certainly knows how to keep things interesting.”

And so it went. Every castle, every lord, every gathering became less about politics and more about the sheer fun of it all. Aegon, for all his recklessness, had a way of turning every situation into a celebration, and while it certainly wasn’t what you had anticipated for your honeymoon, you couldn’t help but enjoy it.

As you sat beside Aegon one evening, the two of you watching the sunset over the Stormlands after yet another lively feast, he leaned over, resting his head on your shoulder with a contented sigh.

“Well,” he said, his voice softer now, the effects of the wine finally wearing off, “I hope this has been everything you wanted, Y/N.”

You chuckled, wrapping an arm around him and resting your head against his. “It’s been more than I expected, that’s for sure,” you replied with a grin. “But I can’t say I’m disappointed.”

Aegon lifted his head, gazing at you with that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “Good. Because the fun’s not over yet.” He winked, leaning in to kiss you. “We still have the Westerlands to visit, and I have a feeling your Lannisters kin will be just as easy to outdrink as the Reach.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “We’ll see about that, Aegon. We’ll see.”

Back at the Red Keep, while you and Aegon were off turning the realm into your personal festival circuit, Dowager Queen Alicent paced the halls with mounting frustration. The soft clack of her shoes against the stone floors echoed through the corridors as she moved from one chamber to another, her face set in a deep scowl.

Every day seemed to bring a new report of Aegon’s increasingly ridiculous antics on this “honeymoon tour.” The letters from various lords were enough to make her blood boil—lavish parties, archery contests in formal wear, impromptu wine tastings. This was how her son was representing the crown? By gallivanting around Westeros like a drunken fool with you at his side, fanning the flames of his excess?

Alicent couldn’t help but bristle at the thought of you—you with your golden hair and saccharine smile, always indulging Aegon’s whims, always filling his goblet and laughing at his every joke. And now you were doing it across the entire realm, parading around like the perfect, doting queen. It was infuriating.

Sitting in her solar, Alicent could feel her hands clenching around the arms of her chair. "Aegon needs to act like a king," she muttered under her breath. "Not… not like some… minstrel.”

Across the room, Otto Hightower, her father and Hand of the King, sat at the table, perusing a stack of letters. His face, however, did not mirror Alicent’s irritation. Instead, Otto looked entirely satisfied, his lips curved into a subtle, knowing smile as he read through the reports.

“This alliance with the Lannisters,” he said, his tone calm, “is proving to be a stronger one than we could have hoped for. The lords of the realm are very pleased with the union. Aegon and Y/N have created quite the spectacle, and while I’m sure some of it is less… traditional than we might have expected, the results speak for themselves.”

Alicent shot him a sharp look, her eyes narrowing. “You mean to tell me you approve of Aegon turning the tour into a debauchery?”

Otto didn’t look up from the letters, but his smirk widened slightly. “What I approve of, my dear daughter, is that the Lannisters are firmly in our grasp. Jason and Tyland are content with the match, and the realm views Aegon’s marriage as a symbol of unity. The bannermen may raise an eyebrow at Aegon’s behavior, but they cannot argue with the strength of this alliance.”

Alicent huffed, clearly unsatisfied with that reasoning. “And what happens when Aegon’s behavior becomes… more than a mild embarrassment? What then?”

Otto finally looked up, his gaze cool and calculating. “Aegon may be reckless, but he’s still king. And Y/N, for all her indulgence, has proven to be a stabilizing force. She understands what needs to be done, and if she can keep Aegon’s temper in check, then this marriage will be more beneficial than any of us anticipated.”

Alicent pursed her lips, her fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. She hated to admit it, but Otto had a point. You did seem to have a way with Aegon—keeping him entertained, keeping him happy. Still, it grated on her that her son was more easily controlled by you than by her. After everything she had done for him, after all the sacrifices she had made, it was you he turned to now.

But while Otto’s satisfaction was clear, there was another member of the family whose mood seemed far more difficult to decipher. Aemond, who usually maintained his composure with cold, unshakable resolve, had been unusually brooding since your departure with Aegon. He spent hours in the training yard, his sword slashing through the air with a fierceness that bordered on frustration, but he rarely spoke of what was bothering him.

Alicent watched him from her place by the window, her brow furrowing. Aemond had never been particularly fond of Aegon’s antics, but this was different. There was a weight to his silence, a tension in the way he moved. She had tried to ask him about it before, but Aemond had simply brushed her off with his usual vague remarks about duty and honor.

Now, as she watched him pace the yard below, his expression dark and unreadable, Alicent felt her frustration grow. She had come to rely on Aemond’s steadiness, his ability to maintain order where Aegon could not, but something had shifted. He was distracted, preoccupied with something she couldn’t quite place.

When she finally approached him later that day, Aemond was standing by the fire in his chambers, his arms crossed over his chest, staring into the flames as though they held the answers to some unspoken question.

“Aemond,” Alicent said softly, stepping into the room. “You’ve been… distant, lately.”

He didn’t turn to face her, but his voice was low and controlled. “I have my reasons, Mother.”

Alicent crossed the room, her brow furrowed. “Is it Aegon’s marriage?” she asked, though the question felt incomplete even as she said it. “Do you… disapprove of Y/N?”

Aemond’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, the silence in the room was thick enough to cut. Finally, he spoke, his voice cold but with an edge that Alicent hadn’t expected. “Y/N is more than capable of handling Aegon. She does what is necessary to keep him in line.”

The words were calm, but there was something beneath them—something Alicent couldn’t quite decipher. She narrowed her eyes, trying to understand. “Then why are you—”

“It’s nothing,” Aemond cut her off sharply, his gaze still fixed on the fire. “Aegon’s behavior will catch up to him eventually. Until then, there is nothing to be done.”

But Alicent wasn’t convinced. She had seen the way Aemond’s eye lingered on you at the wedding feast, the tension in his shoulders whenever your name was mentioned. There was more to this than he was willing to admit.

She stepped closer, her voice softening. “Aemond, if there is something troubling you, you must tell me.”

For the briefest moment, Aemond’s expression faltered, his eye flicking toward her before he looked away again. His voice, when he spoke, was quieter this time, though the edge was still there. “It’s nothing you can fix, Mother.”

And with that, he turned, leaving Alicent standing in the room alone, more confused than ever.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

“Will You Marry Me?"

How I imagine LADS Men would propose. This is part 2 of 2. I tried to do the sweet elegant writing, but that ain't me so here you go....

Xavier

Our lover boy Xavier is a literal prince. I feel as though he'd be very traditional with his proposal. The only unfortunate part is he can't ask for your fathers/family blessing because you know .... Anyway :)

He would definitely court you for a week even if you’ve already been together for over a year. The day of his proposal he would take you to a spot only he knows that has zero light pollution. Of course it’s deep in the forest.

MC: If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re trying to kill me and hide my body Xavier: You have such creative thoughts MC: Seriously where are we going? Xavier: Somewhere special MC: So mysterious even after a year of dating

He’d bring you to a clearing that seemed like it was being lit up by a spotlight. It’s not though he chose to propose on a night with a full moon and clear skies so you could see how beautiful the stars are without all the city lights.

MC: It’s otherworldly Xavier: This was my favorite place to come when I needed clarity MC: Why didn’t you show me sooner? Xavier: I wanted to save it for a special day MC: oh what are you going to propose or something?

You’d be laughing and boom he pulls a ring out of his pocket shutting you right up.

MC: Oh shit! You’re really proposing Xavier: Yes im really proposing

His speech is so sweet it could give you cavities not only would he emphasize how much he loves you he’d let you know just how much he is solely yours. Even if you were to one day forget him and how much he loves you he would still always be yours and would do anything to keep you safe & most of all happy.

Xavier: My lady will you marry me? MC: I want nothing more

He might’ve been sweet and soft spoken during his proposal but that shy boy facade went out the window when you two got back home.

Sylus

It’s canon that Sylus gets nervous when he wants to ask you out. So just imagine how nervous he is getting ready to propose! He already constantly gifts you pretty gems and the gifts just keep increasing over the course of 3 months.

He second guesses himself thinking you may say no so he keeps putting it off but continues to shower you in gifts, quality time, full body massages, shopping sprees, dinner dates, lunch dates, you name it he’s doing it, you want it he got it. He’d be spoiling you so much you’d have to sit him down and ask him what’s going on. He would dismiss your concerns of course.

MC: Are you guys leaving for a while? Kieran: Why do you ask? MC: Sylus has been acting weird I feel like he’s about to disappear again Luke: That was one time and boss only did that because you asked him to leave you alone MC: I know but I’m worried now Luke: Relax miss hunter you’re overthinking

The twins would indeed gaslight you while Sylus worked up the nerve to propose. When he finally has the nerve to do it he goes all out. I’m talking he'd rent out the most exquisite restaurant money can buy. A whole staff at your beck and call. He'd wine and dine you with delicious food and expensive wine. By the time dessert comes you'd want answers.

MC: You're leaving me aren't you Sylus: Jumping to conclusions are we? MC: I'm serious Sylus you haven't been yourself lately you're worrying me Sylus: I guess this is the part where I explain myself

With two snaps of his fingers the twins would rush out; Kieran placing a giant box bouquet of red roses in your arms and Luke placing a crown on your head before rushing out leaving the two of you alone.

MC: What's this? and what am I a Princess? Sylus: You are and I'd love to change your title to Queen MC: Stop are you....

I don't picture Sylus giving a long winded speech. I feel like he would be the type to write it down so you could cherish his words forever.

Sylus: Will you marry me Miss Hunter? You can say no if- MC: Of course I'll marry you

Yet again I'm tackling this man as soon as he slips that ring on. Need to be in his arms immediately. Expeditiously.

Zayne & Rafayel here…

[juniorformulamotorsport]

Travel 2023 – Cunard Queen Mary 2 – Day 5 (Southampton)

[queers-gambit]

Blue Moon Wreckage

prompt: your husband can often lose his temper and resort to the man he was before you. you grow tired of lashing your tongue, and learn your husband responds better to silence.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!wife!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 4.3k+

note: another stand alone, no sequel

warnings: cursing, talk of child abandonment, vulgar dialogue, old-fashioned views on marriage (maybe idk), not edited. small angst, small comfort. author probably missed some warnings.

The entire city cleaned up in preparation for Princess Rhaenyra's nuptials to the heir of Driftmark, Lord Laenor Velaryon. It was refreshing to see citizens rejoicing in a common theme and going around to hang different decorations; chandeliers of strung florals, wreaths woven and hung, lanterns set all around to create an ambiance in the street.

Romance was in the air.

It put people in jolly spirits, brought them elation, and gave the ability to decompress from the woes of life. Wine tasted sweeter, the food saltier, and many merchants came into town for the week-long celebration of Rhaenyra and Laenor in the hopes of selling enough wares to pay for three of their month's expenses. Every room at the inn was filled, brothels hosting the leftover stragglers; money was simply made in an abundance after taking advantage of the citizens come to celebrate.

And yet, deep within the halls of the Red Keep, not all were so at peace with the state of things.

Maids and servants all skidded around the corridor that housed your bedchambers shared with your husband. The walls almost vibrated with the sheer force of the yelling that took place, and while the sun shone on the rest of the Kingdom, there was a dark shadow over the Red Keep.

Rarely, and it was the truth, rarely did you and Daemon ever fight. He was your best friend, he was the love of your life, you've known him for years, and had long since developed an effective way to communicate. Daemon wasn't easy to deal with, in fact, even to those who knew how to handle him, he sometimes pushed past boundaries and threw curveballs into the mix. You were not immune to his sharp tongue and wicked-fast wit, but in reality, Daemon never actively sought conflict with you, so fighting was incredibly rare - though, not totally unheard of.

Like a blue moon - not totally unheard of, but still considered rare. And in pale moonlight, the ship you and Daemon found yourselves sailing on seemed to crash into a set of cliffside jagged rocks, all but imploding the balance you had found yourselves in.

A shipwreck during a blue moon.

Before you, Daemon was violent and volatile. He was irresponsible, impulsive, stubborn, hotheaded, and blood thirty. Many Ladies all vied for the Prince's attention, but as he grew older, he became more and more reckless and more Ladies started keeping their distance. Expect you. You heard rumor his grandmother, the Queen Alysanne, meant to marry him off to Rhea Royce but your father was almost too smart for his own good. He devised a tantalizing offer that the Crown would've been foolish to refuse - thus binding you and Daemon to fate.

Before you, Daemon wasn't a man. He was just a second son trapped in a shell of his body, full of anger with nowhere to expel himself. A boy with a temper. A lad with attitude. He was knighted at 16, an impressive feat, and not a full moon cycle later, you and Daemon wed. He wasn't easy to love, but that was because he was so defensive in his life living in his older brother's shadow.

Before you, Daemon never believed in love or acceptance. Yet everyday he spent with you, he was reminded of his value and worth as a person - not just a Prince, or a Targaryen. You worked every day for his trust and confidence, and once you had it, it was an unshakeable foundation. Daemon was everything to you, and before him, you were shy and awkward and overwhelmed in the glaring eyes of court. Now, you were confident, humble, and weeping with power.

You kept Daemon balanced in his head and heart.

Before you, he was like a wild dog. Now, he was domesticated for you and you alone. He realized how much his recklessness hurt you and never wanted to be the cause of your pain, so, Daemon cleaned himself up. Most days, he was perfectly content in life, and others, he was still as stubborn as ever, but every so often, Daemon loses sight of himself and resorts back to who he was before you.

Fighting with Daemon was always difficult. He wasn't accustomed to losing, so, when you two went toe-to-toe, he was out for blood. He loses himself in his anger, fueled only by the need to cause the most harm with his sharpest words. Daemon jumped to conclusions faster than a grasshopper hops from blades of grass because he was vastly insecure, and it took most of your will to restrain your anger enough to soothe him of his worries.

Daemon hated fighting with you, and you hated fighting with him. There was never a true victor because you both hated it so much. Perhaps that was why your once-in-a-blue-moon fights turned so gruesome and emotional; you both hated fighting that it made you fight even harder.

How you came to this, you didn't remember. One moment, you were enjoying a morning feast with your husband, and the next, you were locked in your chambers, lashing at each other's throats with hateful words.

"I do not understand!" You sobbed. "You agreed to this - "

"No! No, I did not! You did not consult me on this matter, you just accepted responsibility. For the both of us!"

"He is my little brother, Daemon!"

"He is not our responsibility!"

"He is now!"

"Because you took action without a word to me!"

"I did not need to consult you; he is my blood."

"But not mine."

You scoffed, "For fuck's sake, Daemon, do you hear yourself? You are whinging over a child - you're bloody jealous of a child! Where is the man I married?"

"I have done all I am expected and required as a husband, it is you who refuses my seed. Who refuses to grow our family!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake! Now you want a baby!? Married ten years, we are, and NOW you want to whinge about babies!? I am busy in case you've not bothered to look around every once in a while," you snapped, "and I understand having a baby is not ideal right now!"

"So, you will not take my seed because you are busy raising another man's?"

"He was my father - oh, Gods be good, why're we fighting over this?"

"You need to understand, he is not mine," Daemon seethed. "He will never be mine and I do not wish to treat him as such. The life and luxury we live in are not meant for a child that is neither of ours."

"What would you have me do!?"

"Send him to your brother."

"Oh, spare me this notion, Daemon! I will not hear of it! No! We are not discussing this again and again!"

"You mean to disobey me then, wife?" He snapped, making your mouth snap shut. "Huh? Think you're immune to the duties you must uphold as a woman? Think that allows you free rein? You are luckier than most that I allow you to have a fucking opinion; do not abuse my generosity. You want the child to stay, fine, I hear you, but I say he goes. Guess who's want will triumph?"

You blinked several times, unable to find words.

"Nothing to say?" He taunted. "That is a first, wife, you surprise me. In your moment of silence, do well to listen to me now: the child goes, or I do. You either get rid of the child or I will remove myself from this sham of a marriage."

"I do not recognize you, you are not my husband," you finally sighed. "Do me a favor and figure you may speak to me again once you're ready to apologize. If not, I assume by week's end, we will be celebrating both Rhaenyra's wedding and our annulment."

"Too much time has passed for such - "

"I know a Septon that will forge documents. Now," you eyed him up and down, "once more, do not think to speak to me unless to grovel for my forgiveness."

"You will die before that happens."

You nodded slowly, then shrugged and dodged around him to exit the room. You could not bear to be around him any longer, storming away to where your small brother was being looked after by a Septa. You did not speak to Daemon the rest of the day, feeling yourself brimming with anger as you replayed his words.

How dare he find insult in your desire to do "the right thing" by caring for your brother after your parents met their untimely demise? How dare he cite "wifely duties" to you? Just how dare he!

The day was supposed to be merry. It was supposed to be lighthearted and fun and romantic and exciting and gossip worthy. Yet now, you were feeling annoyed, frustrated, weighed down, and plain stupid. You felt alone. You felt tired and worn thin. Your little brother, Jamie, always put a smile on your face, but now, you were simply ready to cry just by looking at him. This planted the seed of resentment towards Daemon, and through the day, only festered.

"My Lady?" You glanced in the mirror to see your hand maiden, who was doing your hair, humming in question. "Alyria has arrived, she will watch young Lord Jamie for the evening."

"Good, thank you," you sighed. "Has Daemon come around?"

"No, my Lady."

"Hmm."

Not 30 minutes later, you were walking towards the decorated throne room with your hair braided back, make-up laid perfectly, and your dress a dark grey, black, and Targaryen red.

However, before you could walk in, someone called your name. You paused, letting Daemon approach you, his eyes raking you in as he realized you dressed to match him. "You look beautiful," he complimented, but you just stared; then sighed through your nose and straightened up. "What? You're not speaking to me?"

"I told you the terms in which you should find it acceptable to speak to me again."

Daemon scoffed, "You're still on that?" You did not answer, just stared forward. "Fine, be that way. Come," he offered his arm, but you brushed past him to finally enter the throne room. Your names were announced, albeit begrudgingly because most in the castle harbored ill-will towards Daemon. They just felt bad for you, not knowing of the man you had grown to know and love unconditionally.

You took long strides to shorten your journey, but behind you, your husband just sauntered in as if the center of attention. However, no matter where he was, Daemon was always the main character, and he was quite the peacock in flaunting himself. You bowed to the King and his daughter, heir to the Iron Throne, Princess Rhaenyra. You took your seat beside the Hand of the King, Ser Strong, as Daemon climbed the stone stairs with a smug expression before taking the seat beside you at the very end.

Needless to say, Daemon was not accustomed to being ignored. You did not look at him, did not speak to him, ignored his direct questions, even went as far as to slapping his hand away when he reached for your thigh. When your hand rested on the table and he laid his over yours, you pulled it back.

It drove Daemon absolutely up the wall.

"And how fairs your brother, my Lady?" Ser Strong asked gently. "How does he like life in the Capital?"

"He adores it," you hummed with a nod. "He is learning so much and loves watching the boats in the harbor."

"How old is he now?"

"Just shy of 4, my Lord."

"Well, what would the little Prince like for his nameday?"

"Oh, uh, no, he's not a Prince," you spoke gently.

"No? Well, I suppose until Viserys recognizes him."

"Well, Daemon's made it clear that if I do not give custody of my brother up, this marriage is null and void, so," you clicked your tongue cheekily, sipping your wine, "no use in titles."

You knew others heard you and smirked to yourself. Another gulp of wine and you were standing, excusing yourself, and moving onto the dance floor. Rhaenyra giggled when you gave her a playful twirl before taking your place with a partner, falling into rhythm with those around you. The entire time, you felt Daemon's eyes burning into you.

You didn't care. You carried on as if there wasn't a ring on your wedding finger weighing like a full fish net, like you weren't burdened by your marriage.

You danced with a Tully, Stark, Frey, and Lannister boy, all who looked at you like a delectable treat but were being effectively ignored, just like your handsome, white-haired husband. It was a lively time, twisting and turning and leaping and being lifted in ture with the instruments playing. Rhaenyra caught your eye a few times, grinning and giggling as she, too, let herself destress in the glee of the festivities. However, when the Frey lad spun you around, you had thought of the devil so much, there he bloody was.

Your husband smirked down at you, "You look startled, little bird."

You scoffed and moved to go around him, but Daemon's hand was darting out to grab your upper arm. He pulled you further into the crowd to use them as a layer of protection, turning sharply to leer over you. He snapped in High Valyrian, "What're you playing at? Hmm? You mean to embarrass my entire family by being so cold and shrewish?"

You scoffed, glaring at him for a moment before he reached forward to grab your neck and cheek in a possessive hold. "I dare you to raise a sharp word at me," he sneered quietly, keeping you in place. "You have ignored me all fucking day, these games are at an end. I have always known your voice to be a sweet remedy, do not deprive me of it longer."

"Then apologize," You snapped.

"For what? Speaking the truth? That you refuse to sire my children because you are too occupied with your wee brother? For taking in a child without so much as asking me? Tell me, what am I apologizing for?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, and swatting his hand from you. However, just as you meant to walk away from him, someone gasped and yelped from the people around you. Daemon brought you into his chest as a sudden crowd thickened, two bodies hitting the floor in a gruesome fight. This encouraged others to get rowdy, and before you could comprehend his actions, Daemon was stooping low to hoist you over his shoulder and stride away.

When out of the fray, Daemon slowed himself enough to set you down at the base of the stairs leading to the Royal banquet table, both his hands going to your cheeks. He panted lightly, looking you over, "All right? You hurt? They touch you?"

"No, I'm okay," you sighed gently, reaching up to hold his wrists in a brief show of affection. However, the crowd only grew in size and aggression; the Royals all taking refuge on the elevated landing to take a headcount. Not a moment later, Ser Harwin Strong, the Hand's eldest son, was emerging from the crowd with Rhaenyra hoisted up his shoulder.

But your attention was drawn elsewhere. You parted Daemon's side to get under Viserys' arm, lifting him up slightly as he coughed into a handkerchief. You frowned when you saw the blood, his eyes meeting your wide ones. You asked the only question you could think of, "Does Daemon know?"

"No," he matched your tone in a whisper.

You nodded and assisted him into the closest chair. After the death of Ser Laenor Velayron's paramour (Ser Joffrey, was it?) the hall was cleared of everyone to only leave the immediate family. In hopes of avoiding future turmoil, it was decided that the Realm's Delight, Rhaenyra, was to wed the Sea Snake's son, Laenor, now instead of at week's end. Viserys asked his brother to stay but you were quick to bow out, promising it was a family affair and you should get ready for bed anyways.

Daemon looked close to protesting your departure but was unable to utter a single word, only watching you scamper out of the throne room as the High Septon finally arrived.

Rhaenyra and Laenor married in front of his mother and father, Rhaenys and Corlys, and his sister, Laena. King Viserys was there with his brother Daemon and wife Alicent, leaving only the Hand present to pose as "unbiased witness".

Further into the castle, you collected your brother, Jamie, and quickly got him ready for bed. Your heart felt heavy with guilt as you looked at him, understanding on a deeper level that if it came down to it, you'd do anything to keep Daemon in your life... And if he said your brother had to go or he did, well, you feared to find out if he was serious.

Jamie fell asleep on the long bench at the base of your bed with a fire crackling in front of his face. He had fallen asleep listening to you read, your emotions catching up to you to let you finally sob quietly while preparing for bed. You hated the idea of losing either Daemon or Jamie, and the fact that you had to choose? It felt impossible. So, once ready for bed, you tied on your dressing robe and bent at the waist to kiss Jamie's forehead. You then found yourself standing at the floor-to-ceiling window, wine in hand, staring out into nothing as you were wrecked emotionally from considering Daemon's ultimatum.

You were overwhelmed.

The door opened behind you and your eyes screwed shut. You took an even breath in, heard the door shut quietly, and then turned to spy your husband already staring at you. His face was neutral, passive, and you knew he was sizing you up just as you were him; both waiting for the other to make the first move.

Your resolve crumbled.

As if your minds were connected by a string, you surged forward as Daemon took a few steps toward you, meeting in the middle, and wrapping your arms around one another. Daemon held your waist tightly as yours tied around his neck in a vice grip, breathing in his scent that seemed to mingle permanently with the smell of dragon. He felt gentle trembling from contained sobs, soothing you with hushed cooing; hand petting the back of your head.

When you pulled back, it was only just enough to find his lips; drenching yourself in sheer relief at the familiar taste and feel of your husband. Just before you could whimper you were sorry, truly being unsure what you were actually apologizing for, when he beat you to it.

The space between your lips was filled with Daemon's rushed words, both his hands cradling your cheeks as he spoke, "I'm so sorry, my love. I am. I am truly so sorry. I hate fighting, I hate us fighting, it just feels so fucking wrong, I'm so sorry."

"No, it is I who am sorry, husband."

"Nothing to apologize for," he rushed, forehead glued to yours as he moved you backwards to the bed. "You do not apologize to me; you have done no wrong. It's me, I am the one who should grovel. I do deserve your kindness; I am so sorry for what I've said." He took a long breath, just holding you carefully, "I was out of line."

"No, you were right. I did not consult you; I should have. It is not just you or I in this, but the two of us together. I shouldn't have acted without so much as a word."

"It is okay," he assured softly, "it is more than all right by me now. I just," he sighed, "I needed to think, process a little. I shouldn't have reacted the way I did, I should've listened to you and been a supportive husband, but instead, I just fought with you." He frowned, petting down your face with a dainty finger. "We fight because we care, but Gods do I hate it."

"I do, too," you whispered. "Can we just," you sighed, "go to bed or something? I'm exhausted."

He nodded, glancing at the foot of the bed before looking back at you, "One more thing."

"Hmm?"

"We will talk to Viserys in the morning about recognizing Jamie."

You frowned, "Well, hang on, I think I understand your point, too, Daemon. Listen, yes, I want us charged with Jamie's care, but I do not wish to replace his parents."

"He should still have a title, a place at court. Access to tutors and such."

You smiled fondly, whispering, "That is the man I married."

Daemon prepared for bed as you check Jamie, finding him fast asleep still. Your husband came to bed after blowing out all candles, leaving the fire simmering and you both under a single linen sheet. He laid on his back with you flush against his side, both hands holding your form and tracing idle patterns.

Every so often, he'd squeeze you tightly and kiss your forehead, but otherwise, you both just laid in peace. However, Daemon broke the silence, "I did not mean to cause you harm. I just felt panicked, I think, after the war."

You nodded with understanding, "Our time is on the horizon, Daemon, I promise, I just needed to find balance with Jamie. I've never been a mother before, 's very odd."

"Perhaps we can learn together, I've never been a father," Daemon offered softly. "I fear I have not been entirely welcoming."

"You've time to remedy it," you urged softly. "But you are not obligated."

"He will be our shared responsibility."

You smiled against his chest. "So, tell me of the wedding."

"Nothing special," he sighed. "Viserys fell ill. And I do mean literally fell."

"What? Is he all right?"

"Yes, he's being seen to... But I was thinking..."

"Of?"

"Us. Our family."

"Hm, and what of them, my love?"

Daemon sighed, reaching for your cheek in order to find your lips in the dark. "We will leave," he whispered, licking another kiss to your lips. "We'll go across the Narrow Sea together, raise a family away from the politics and chaos."

"You would miss your family."

"I would rue staying in this city. Away from here, we'd have liberties and freedoms Kings Landing does not offer us, nor our kids."

"I will think on it."

When morning broke through the window of consciousness, Daemon realized you were still sound and dead asleep, but there was something or someone poking his arm in an annoying repetition. When he blinked awake and looked to the culprit, he smiled slightly at Jamie. "What's wrong, little lad?" He asked quietly, voice heavy and hazy with sleep, seeing tears fill the kid's eyes.

"I-I didn't mean to."

"Mean to what?"

"I wet the bed," he frowned, looking at the lounge he slept on all night. "I didn't mean to. It was a scary dream."

"It's okay," he whispered, glancing at you before standing from bed. "C'mon, it's all right, we can clean it."

He nodded and let Daemon sit him at the bottom of the mattress, some two full feet from touching you. Jamie watched Daemon work, gathering any linens to set aside to be washed before plucking the child into his arms. He took his to the washroom and got him cleaned up before redressing him for the day, Daemon quickly doing the same, and then the two left for the day.

You slept while Daemon took Jaime to breakfast. You slept while the two ate and made merry; getting to know each other. You slept while Daemon answered little Jamie's questions. You slept while Daemon offered to introduce him to Caraxes, his dragon.

By the time you were awake, dressed, and approaching the mess hall, Daemon and Jamie were leaving to head for the Dragon Pit. When they saw you, Jamie grinned and squealed, "Sissy!"

You grinned when he rushed for your legs, greeting him with enthusiasm. You hoisted him onto your hip as Daemon approached you, pausing to lean in and kiss you. "Where are you two lads off to?"

"Dragons!"

You chuckled, "Yeah? Uncle's taking you to see the dragons? You're very lucky, not many people get to see them up close."

"Would you care to join us?" Daemon offered.

"No, no, that's quite all right. Thank you, my love, but perhaps this is best kept to a boy’s trip," you quipped, pecking Daemon's lips. "Bring him back in one piece, please."

"Of course," Daemon agreed, taking Jamie's hand when you set him on the ground. He stole one last kiss before leading Jamie away; where you watched them walk away and felt something stirring in your gut; suddenly come alive with tingling electricity. Instead of venturing into the mess hall, you instead continued your way to where you could meet the Grand Maester for a series of tests.

Learning you were pregnant was surreal, but incredibly elating. You were humored by the fact that, just hours ago, you and Daemon feuded for this very reason. However, after simply seeing your husband and little brother get along so effortlessly, you had no doubt in your mind you could handle this. Worrying about having Jamie and a newborn so close together was valid, of course - but it wasn't something you actually needed to worry about now.

Plenty of families had children with shorter age ranges, but none of that matters now - not when you were so explicably happy. All that was left to do now was tell Daemon and Jamie.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

[captainamericasmotercycle]

Hi I was wondering if you could do a fic with Jacaerys x sister! Reader where they are at a gala/feast and ppl keep flirting with reader so Jave gets jealous and stuff. So when they go to their room at the end of the feast Jace makes her ride his face and makes sure she’s loud enough for everyone to hear that she’s his.

warnings: typical canon incest, jace x sister!reader (father is not specified), no dance of the dragons au, 18+ minors DNI, jace hates aemond in every universe, everyone lives au!!!, jace eating u out like a man starved, nyra and daemon giving kris jenner vibes???, cursing, the targtowers and targaryens are besties (kind of)

For your younger brother Lucerys’s name day of ten and five, your family decided it would be best to throw a feast for him.

He was becoming older and would soon inherit Driftmark, he needed a celebration to show that he is becoming a man and no longer a mere child.

Since your mother became Queen and your older half-brother became her heir, many people were interested in the lives of the royal family, so Luke’s name day was flooded with people from all over Westeros.

You were all dolled up in a fancy gown, you hair was braided so elegantly and intricately, and you moved with such grace that most eyes were on you throughout the night.

Luke joked to Jace that you may be able to find a lord husband tonight, but at his suggestion, Jace tensed up and his face hardened.

You sat with your family at the elevated table, you mother was in the middle, Daemon next to her, his daughters on his side of the table, you sat between Jace and your mother, and then sat Luke, Joffrey, Viserys, and Aegon.

You watched in awe at the celebration, only imagining how grand a wedding could be.

People danced, wore lavish clothing, gorged themselves in the food, and occasionally approached the table to offer up gifts to your brother for his name day.

It was about halfway through the night when highborn men started to approach you, which was uncommon up until recent.

Every since you had turned ten and eight, and became more developed in certain places, you were consistently approached for your hand.

Lord Oscar Tully was the first to approach your table, you smiled gently at him, knowing his new situation.

“Hello, Princess. You look lovely tonight.”

You felt heat rush to your cheeks, a dark color dusting your cheeks, he was quite the charmer, and not bad looking either, “Thank you, Lord Tully. I heard about your grandsire, I offer my deepest condolences.”

He nods solemnly, “Thank you, Princess. I may have lost my grandsire, but I have gained a deep power and a great kingdom… one I hope you will consider in your future.”

You smiled gently, “I heard the Riverlands are beautiful, I would most definitely love to see them someday. Is there something I can do for you?”

“I just wanted to come and offer you some company, if you’ll have me?”

You looked to your mother who smiled at you, knowingly. You looked back to the young lord and nodded, “I’d love to.”

You came around the table, taking his arm in yours as he led you to the floor to dance.

Jace’s gaze hardened and he downed his cup of wine, slamming it down on the table harsher than intended. Luke and Joffrey giggled at him, Viserys and Aegon following their older brothers’ actions.

Luke leaned over to his brother, “Careful, your face might get stuck like that.”

“Shut up, Luke.”

“I’m just saying…”

“He’s not good enough for her—”

“You say that about every man and I could hardly agree with you, most of the Riverlands looks to House Tully for direction and leadership; she would be in a great position there as their lady.”

“Do you want me to leave the table and kill myself?”

“All I am saying is that maybe you should focus on yourself instead of our sister… you need to wed as well, create heirs for the Seven Kingdoms.”

Jace rolled his eyes, “You sound like Mother.”

Rhaenyra whipped her head to her sons, “I think he is right, Jace.”

“Of course you do.”

“You are too invested in something that does not concern you Jacaerys. Perhaps you need to start looking for your own Lady Wife.”

“I do not wish to wed.”

“I hate to tell you, but your wishes do not matter to the Seven Kingdoms.”

Jace sighed, moving his gaze back to you and Lord Tully. You smiled as the two of you danced. Jace’s jealously only grew as he watched.

Oscar Tully was not good enough for you, no one is good enough for you… except Jace himself.

As the song ended, a new one started. Luke left the table with Rhaena, Joffrey and the twins were led to their chambers to be put to bed, your mother was in an intent conversation with Corlys and Rhaenys, and you had just been approached by Gwyane Hightower.

From the look on Gwyane’s face, Jace knew Gwyane was being smug with you, he scoffed, thinking that you would never be charmed by him, but when he saw you smiling, standing too close for comfort to him, he almost puked his supper all over the floor.

You danced and flirted with Gwyane Hightower for a bit of the night, making Jace more and more jealous.

As you finished with Gwyane, you returned to your seat, a big smile on your face.

“Enjoy your dance?” Jace asked, venom lacing his tongue.

“I did, as a matter of fact, Gwyane is… such a lovely knight. He’s a knight… did you know?”

Before Jace could respond, you were hugged lightly from behind by Helaena. She kissed you gently on the cheek, “Quite the collection of suitors you have assembled tonight.”

You giggled lightly, “I know! Quite fun, to be honest.”

Jace grunted from beside you, making you and Helaena both turn to him, “Are you alright?”

“Just fine,” he held his lips in a thin tight line.

You went back to your conversation with Helaena about her uncle, Gwayne and Lord Tully, when you were finally met by another suitor.

“Sister. Niece. Nephew,” Aemond stood in front of you, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“Uncle,” you looked at him with raised brows.

“I was just wondering if you would join me for a dance. I’ve seen all of these useless men that call themselves suitors and figured you needed a more distinguished partner, such as a prince.”

You blinked slowly at him, Helaena nudged you with a smile. You quickly glanced at Jace and thought he looked like he was about to roll over and die.

You stood and came around the table to meet him, you took his offered hand, “Let’s see how well you dance, Uncle.”

Helaena watched the two of you walk away, “A great pair, the two of them, they’ll be fantastic together,” she took a grape off your plate, popping it in her mouth and walking off.

This was Jace’s last straw, seeing you dance with Aemond might have been the most painful thing he’s ever done in his entire life. After watching for just a couple moments, he could not stand it any longer.

His mother rolled her eyes, watching him seethe, “Jace.”

“What?”

“Go get her.”

“What?”

“Go. I can see it in your eyes.”

Jace stood, rushing down to you and grabbing your arm, stealing you away from Aemond.

You followed him, shocked at the sudden behavior. He yanked you to his chambers, leaving the doors open.

Once in his room, you pulled away from him, “Jacaerys! What is the meaning of this?”

“You! You are the meaning of this!” His yelling made you take a step back, he stalked up, putting his hand on either side of your face, holding on tightly, “You think you can tease me like that? Taking any man who offered his hand?”

“Jace-”

“You know they are no good for you. They may be nobles, but are they heir to the Iron Throne? You are simply doing this to upset me.”

Your voice became small, “I did not mean to upset you.”

You could feel wetness pooling in your small clothes beneath your gown. He shoved his face into yours, harshly smashing his lips on yours.

You stumbled back at the forced, you pushed him back to take a breath and think about what you are doing. After a couple deep breaths, you rushed at him, nearly mounting him.

He groped and grasped at every part of you, you doing the same to him. His lips moved down to your neck, sucking lightly at it.

You threw your head back as his teeth grazed the sensitive area of your neck. The two of your shuffled your way to his bed.

“Jace… the doors, someone might see or hear.”

“I hope they do.”

“But—”

He pushed you on his bed, “I want them to hear how good your brother can make you feel, how they will never be me, how they will never taste you.”

He spread your legs, pulling off your underclothes. He grabbed your thighs, flipping you to straddle his face.

You fell forward, steadying yourself up with your hands. You pushed yourself up back in a sitting position.

Jace yanked at your legs, pulling you further down onto his face. You felt his nose buried into your cunt, rubbing against your sensitive bud.

You were about to voice your concerns about suffocating him, but you suddenly gasped out as you felt his tongue lick a long stripe down your maidenhood.

He thrusted his tongue in and out of you roughly, you screamed out for everyone in the hall to hear, “Gods! Jace!”

Visceral animalistic sounds came from the back of your throat, sounds you had never heard before.

In the hall, the attention of the crowds was taken by your yells, guards grabbed at their swords, you mother rose suddenly at your scream, Daemon was on his feet and ready for an oncoming attack.

One of Jace’s personal guards came rushing into the room to promise that no one was in danger and that the two of you were… together in his chambers.

Your mother and Daemon’s faces instantly reddened. They shared a look of embarrassment and pride. On one hand, as your parents, they wanted to kill you both, but as the Queen and King Consort, they knew the realm would be in their children’s hands at their demise.

Tears rolled down your face as Jace fucked you with his tongue. You had never felt such pleasures in your entire life. It made you understand why lowborn men seek out such endeavors at the disloyalty of their wives.

Jace couldn’t get enough of you. You tasted sweeter than anything that’s ever touched his tongue. His tongue moved faster as you panted, moaned, and groaned above him.

As his pace quickened, you felt a tight coiling in your lower stomach.

“Jace… fuck!”

At your vulgarity, he quickened his pace. You came fast and harder than you ever thought you could. Jace took all of your juices into his mouth, not leaving a drop of your sweet release.

You collapsed next to him, panting outrageously. He lay next to you, breathless, laughing to himself. You grabbed a pillow, hitting him the face with it. He took it from you, tossing it on the ground.

He came to hover over you, trapping you beneath his figure. You leaned down and kissed your lips gently, you could still taste your arousal on his lips.

You stared at him with a smile, “I suppose you think making the entire Keep believe we were under attack is funny?”

“It was not I that made them think we were under attack. If I am not mistaken, it was you screaming your head off.”

“You were the one who yanked me away from the celebration.”

“Yes, but you were the one who made me.”

You scoffed, sitting up against the headboard, “Made you?”

“Yes, dancing with that Tully, the fucking Hightower knight, and worse of all, Aemond.”

“Mmm, sounds like you are jealous?” You taunted him sarcastically.

“They are not deserving of you.”

“And you are?”

“I am the heir to the Iron Throne and your blood. I am the most deserving.”

“So are you suggesting I should become Queen one day?”

“Hmm, I do not remember offering my hand to you to wed…”

You hit him in the stomach with the back of your hand, “You just had the entire Seven Kingdoms hear my screams while you were buried up my dress. I would slaughter you and become the heir myself if you did not ask for my hand after that.”

He took your hand in his, kissing the back of your palm, “I shall talk to Mother in the morn.”

You stared at your intertwined hands, “We should return…”

“You think we are able to return after the little show we put on?”

“I suppose you are right,” you sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder.

He got up, leaving you on his bed. He walked to his chamber doors, locking them.

He returned to you, laying on his back, “Perhaps we should just rest now, we shall deal with our consequences tomorrow.”

You lay with him, resting your head on his chest, he brought his hand to rub your arm, coaxing you to sleep.

He pressed a couple kiss to your hairline, “You will be my wife soon enough, dōna tala.”

[vivwritescrappythings]

words fall short

knight!könig x plus-size!fem!reader

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 5 - part 6

you can’t stop thinking about some rude words said about you at last night’s feast, but your knight doesn’t let you worry for long.

tw: plus size reader, fem reader, kissing!, negative self talk, body image issues

wc: 2.5k

masterlist

—

Winter’s chill had settled over the castle. Snow blanketed the courtyards and gardens, ice frosting the windows with flowers at the corners of the panes. The evenings stretched longer, fires became more comforting.

You found your days occupied with the other ladies in court, the social season in full swing as you attended parties and feasts and balls. It was hard to watch your father still hold out hope, each event had him sending middle-aged suitors your way. Each one was worse than the last, his desperation apparently growing.

König did not broach the subject of your dance, so neither did you. You chalked it up to the lack of sleep and your knight being far too kind. That was all it could be, a misunderstanding on his part of his duties. Maybe he did not like seeing you dejected.

Nothing more.

The day was slow and lazy, a thick layer of snow covering the land around the palace forced everyone to the comfort of their hearths. You were curled up in an overstuffed armchair near the large fireplace in the library, slippers kicked off onto the carpet and knees drawn up beneath your skirts as you read.

The library was your favorite part of your father’s decision to relocate you to the royal palace, you had never had access to so many books in your life. It was a lesser-traversed part of the castle, members of the King’s Counsel occasionally searching the shelves for some historical ledger that had been filed away. They hardly did more than green you politely.

If anything, König’s presence was what alerted them, his large stature looming near a column that stood a few paces away from your preferred armchair. Their gasps of surprise pulled you out of your reading, your eyelashes fluttering over your cheekbones before your gaze cut to König’s conspiratorially.

He always met your smirk with a slow blink of his blue eyes beneath his shroud. You were starting to memorize the broad variety of his expressions, hanging onto every movement of his eyes and tilt of his head. It was easier to decipher what he was feeling—his eyes were shockingly expressive when you actually paid attention to them.

Any time he startled a lord he straightened up like a peacock ruffling its own feathers, squaring his shoulders and stacking his head at the top of his spine rather than his typical slouch. That was when you realized he enjoyed the way they paled at the sight of him, their stammered greetings to you.

You would not have been surprised to learn he was smiling beneath the shroud.

You thumbed through the book in your lap absently, chewing your lower lip as you stared at the flames crackling in the hearth. There were few interruptions that morning but you still found yourself distracted.

Words from last night’s feast still lingered in your mind.

At first it had been a normal evening. The great hall had been outfitted with long tables lined with candles and greenery from pines arranged into elegant centerpieces. The king was celebrating the birth of yet another son, so the food was plentiful and the drink flowed freely.

Even you had been allowed a cup of dark blackberry wine so sweet it nearly hurt your teeth.

It warmed you from head to toe, your smile coming easier and conversation tumbling from your lips before you could even consider your words. You had been seated with other ladies from the court, your father up on the dais with the king and the queen.

You were speaking with Mary across the table when you heard the first whisper of your name intermingled with the voices around you. It ran a chill down your spine like a fingernail sliding along your vertebrae.

It was impossible to place. Perhaps it was not your name at all, just a string of syllables that sounded enough like it to alert you. Slant rhymes had always been your favorite poetic device, why would you not encounter it in real life as well? Or at least it was easy enough to convince yourself of it the first time.

The sound of your name kept going off like a bell, the word said so softly each time that you continued to convince yourself it was something else entirely. Mary did not seem to notice, so you wrote it off as paranoia.

The first snippet of conversation reached you as the bards took their first break and guests stood to stretch their legs. It was quiet, just a scratch at the edge of your ear. “I heard that her sister married into the Garrick family, but her poor father is desperate to find a match for her.”

You looked up, jaw set as you scanned the people around you. None seemed to be looking your way. It felt as though a bucket of cold water had been tossed over your head, soaking you to the bone.

“Well, she is rather strange compared to what I have heard of her sister, it is said that Ser Garrick married a great beauty.”

“Unfortunate that it does not run in the family.”

Strange.

Strange.

Strange.

It was all you could think about. You never found out who said it, part of you was glad that you never knew who labeled you as such.

You had tossed and turned the entire night, worrying over being thought strange. Strange. You were many things: brash, loud, difficult, stubborn… but strange? It hurt more than you had expected it to.

König had noticed your sour mood as he escorted you back to your chambers, badgering you to know what had happened. You did not have the heart to tell him. The fear of looking into the cool blue of his gaze and finding that he, too, believed you to be strange was too great. You did not think you could bear it.

So you let the word fester.

“My lady.” You jolted at the sound of König’s voice cutting through your thoughts. It took you a few moments to blink the blur out of your vision before you looked up at him over the back of the armchair, the emerald green fabric soft against your cheek.

“Yes?” you responded, sounding more exasperated than you intended. He took a few steps forward, the gray cloak affixed to his shoulders swishing against his armor with his movements.

Your tone must have made him reconsider before he shook his head slightly, the fabric of the black hood over his face settling into place once more. “It is obvious that something is on your mind, my lady,” he finally said, slouching to meet your gaze. “You have not even turned a page in several minutes.”

Heat of embarrassment blistered across your face before you could even think to deny König’s words. You opened your mouth to argue, to tell him that he should be paying more attention to your surroundings than your mannerisms.

Instead you took a breath, looking away from the knight back to the fire. “Do you think I am strange, König?” you asked. You allowed the cover of your book to fall shut, fingertips running over the fabric.

He paused for a moment, cocking his head to one side. You watched as he cast a long glance around the room before moving in front of you, kneeling on the plush rug with one knee as his forearms rested on the flat of his thigh.

Your eyes widened, you straightened a bit out of your contorted sitting position. The question begged a yes or no answer, not something… intimate.

“Why would you think that?” König asked, his accent making the words harsh. It was so sincere you already felt the sting of tears in your eyes.

You huffed, expression crumpling. The frescoes on the buttressed ceiling begged for your attention as you tried to find your words. “Last night… during the feast I overheard a conversation about my being strange and that being the reason my father has struggled to find me a match.”

It pained you to admit it. Repeating the words made it feel so much more real.

You took a deep breath, pressing on despite the tears building at your lash line. “So it begs the question, do you think I am strange?” You were brave enough to look at him again. “You are the only person I can ask. The other ladies in court would lie and my father would as well.”

König’s deep breath was audible, his body leaning toward you. His head tilted back, the two of you close enough that you could see the light of the fire on his blonde eyelashes.

“I think you are wonderful, my lady.”

His gloved hand took yours from where it rested on the cover of your book, fingertips smoothing over the ridges of your knuckles as he drew your hand toward his chest.

Your heart was in your throat, his compliment rendering you speechless. It would be easy for you to try to dismiss his words as a lie, brush them off as a kindness to you. But his eyes were sincere, rounded with gentleness as he looked up at you.

“Wonderful seems like an exaggeration,” you mumbled. You suddenly felt too aware of the extra flesh beneath your chin, the way your upper arm spread out as it pressed against your side.

König snorted, shaking his head.

You spoke before he could, gently trying to tug your hand back. He kept it in his hold. “They also wasted no time comparing me to the great beauty that is my sister.”

“Your sister?” König kept close, his hip pressed against the emerald green cushion of the armchair. “The woman with you at the tourney?”

You nodded, scraping your teeth over your lower lip without mercy. At that rate you would chew it until you were bleeding.

He shrugged, his breastplate now touching your thigh through your heavy skirts. “She was beautiful, yes, but no more so than you,” he said, the same sincerity in his tone. “It was you that caught my eye, my lady.”

“Truthfully?” you asked, voice trembling.

König’s free hand reached up, his palm finding the curve of your cheek. The leather of his glove was warm, broken in enough that it felt almost soft.

“I would not lie to you.” There was no room for you to question him.

You took a deep breath, your cheek pressed into his palm as you looked down at him. Your throat was closing, tears stinging behind your eyes as you struggled for something to say.

Then König surprised you.

He released your hand, pinching the bottom of the black hood over his face as he leaned even further into you. You watched the frayed edge of the fabric lift higher and higher, greedily awaiting the secrets beneath.

His skin was just as pale as you expected, gnarled scars marking his neck. The scar tissue was shiny and white in some areas, tinged pink with lingering irritation in others. You wondered if he sustained the wounds in battle along the eastern border, but you could not find your voice to ask.

Honey-blonde stubble scraped across jaw, the same color and the locks of hair you could see curling out from beneath the fabric of his hood. You would never have guessed his hair was long enough to reach his shoulders. If anything, you expected it to be cropped close to his scalp.

Two scars met on his chin, crossing into an X just below the curve of his lower lip. One went vertical, bisecting his pale pink mouth before jutting off to the right and disappearing beneath the black fabric of his hood.

“König,” you whispered, bewildered at what earned you the privilege of seeing his face, even just a part of it.

“Forgive me, my lady, my words simply continue to fall short.”

His palm slid against your cheek, fingers curling around the nape of your neck as he brought your lips to his. You braced a hand against his chest, the metal of his armor smooth beneath your touch. His heartbeat thrummed somewhere beneath all the layers.

It took you a moment to kiss him back, your eyelashes brushing against the bunched up fabric of his hood as you finally closed your eyes. Your mouth moved clumsily against his—the most you had ever kissed was the cook’s son behind the grainery when you were fourteen. It was a tender and nervous thing, far from the slow and sure press of König’s lips.

His fingers caressed the hinge of your jaw, tilting your head to match the slant of his. The scrape of his stubble against your face sent chills all the way to your toes. Your mouth parted on a soft sigh, letting him slot his scarred lower lip between them.

The feeling of his smile was so distracting that you almost pulled away just so you could finally see it.

There was a vague sense of danger curling up your spine as his tongue teased between your lips. You should have pushed him away, rebuked him for advancing on you and immediately searched for your father. Instead you were leaning so far toward him you would have toppled out of the arm chair if not for the spread of his shoulders and his forearm pressed against your collarbone.

“You must meet my daughter, I assure you she has a wit that catches most lords off guard.” It was your father’s voice drifting between the shelves of books that reminded you of the severity of the situation.

König was already pulling away, dropping his hood back into place as he gracefully brought himself to his feet. You removed your hands from him with reluctance, the only soothing balm the quick press of his lips against your hairline through the fabric.

You did not have enough time to marvel at his speed before your father and a lord you did not recognize rounded the last shelf into your little alcove. Your knight was already at his typical spot against the column, studying the newcomer for threats.

A fake smile plastered itself to your face, hiding the fact that you wanted to scream as you stood to curtsy. The man already was appraising you, watching you like you were a horse he was purchasing.

“Lord Fischer, meet my daughter,” he said cordially. The man was your father’s age, maybe older. But he smiled and greeted you politely.

You wanted to retreat into König’s embrace, pepper kisses along his scarred throat and coax his lips back to yours. Instead you sat down across from your father and Lord Fischer with your hands folded in your lap. The conversation was polite, nothing remarkable or interesting was said before your father proposed he joined you for supper that evening. It was the last thing you wanted, but nevertheless you stood and walked with your father and Lord Fischer to your father’s chambers.

As always, König dutifully followed.

[dreammfyre]

targaryen dynasty ⋆ jacaerys velaryon

SUMMARY. You are the first daughter of Daemon and Laena Velaryon, betrothed to Prince Jacaerys Velaryon whom you have known since childhood. Queen Rhaenyra personally asked you to seek out knights and ladies with Targaryen blood to try and get them to claim a dragon to join the cause. You, always so attached to reading and the most studious and intelligent, did not hesitate to obey your queen, however, it was proving to be more difficult than you imagined. Luckily, Jacaerys knows how to help you.

WARNIGS. (+18) Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!oc. Targaryen incest. Smut, oral (fem receiving).

NOTE. The thuth is that I don't know how thid got 5000 words, but here we are!!!

If anyone asked you, you had no idea how long you had been locked in the castle library. The queen had left you the task of researching in depth about the Targaryen lineage with valyrian blood and the right to claim a dragon, you did not refuse to comply with her orders, you were known for your intellect and interest about history, always with a different book under your arm, you handled data that the others did not, so you were in your comfort zone. However, you did not imagine it was going to be so complicated, you had had breakfast and lunch in the library in solitude, which meant that you had been locked up all day among papyrus, books written in the language of your family, you had read about the dragons still alive, especially Vermithor and Silverwing, but you found more than you needed and your attention jumped from subject to subject, you had never access to such a place and did it hold information on Targaryen history from the time of the conquerors to the reign of Jaehaerys I Targaryen.

"My lady," Elinda's voice, so soft and gentle as she addressed you, dissipated your attention causing you to turn your head up from your reading. The maid was standing in the doorway and you behind the wooden desk in the midst of your own chaos, you had ordered not to be disturbed unless it was an emergency. "why don't you go upstairs to dine with the queen in parlor?"

"I'm fine, thank you." You smiled trying to put on your best face, the truth was you didn't want to appear before Rhaenyra without any advances.

Elinda sighed knowing she wasn't going to be able to convince you to come out for fresh air, she wasn't surprised at your response, always so stubborn and driven to your ideas.

"It's okay, I know you, so I went ahead and brought dinner up here." She said walking over with the silver tray holding a steaming plate and a cup. "Eat before you rest, you've spent a lot of time in this place, you haven't been eating well and we don't want your body to weaken."

You nodded and thanked her before she left. You watched the food from afar without appetite, so you went back to reading, the Targaryen bloodline had expanded to different places, moving out of King's Landing and Dragonstone to other lands. You were writing down the possible names of knights and ladies with what needed to claim a dragon, so far there weren't many options, but you didn't want to be left in doubt you looked everywhere. You stood up to look for another book that you had not yet read, this time from the houses to the north, you had a mess everywhere and on every table, open books, scattered papyrus, the shelves almost empty. Your notes on the other hand, Valyrian texts that you read without problems, as if a hurricane had swept away the order.

You took from the cup that Elinda had brought you with sweet wine to which you gave a generous gulp. You paced back and forth reading and reviewing the history, trying to find useful connections to the present, back and forth, flipping through the pages and drinking. When you started to get dizzy from the spinning you found no better idea than to sit on the table crossing your legs no matter how uncomfortable your clothes were, on your thighs you opened the heavy book so you could hold the glass in your hands.

"Are you still here?" Jacaerys had entered the library, taking you by surprise. The heir found you in the middle of the mess, surrounded by papers, sitting on the table which was frowned upon for a lady. "I haven't seen you all day."

"I think I hate the Targaryen." You sighed, relaxing your shoulders and looking up. Jacaerys smiled coming closer, watching the mess around you out of the corner of his eye, but he was sure you were the one to find what Rhaenyra was looking for. "Is that wine?" he pointed to your goblet raising his eyebrows.

"Elinda feeds me like an imprisoned animal."

"I doubt an imprisoned animal would be fed lamb and wine." This time it was you who smiled. "How are you doing with your mission?"

"I found some names that might be of use, let's hope they are still alive." You replied setting the cup aside, on top of other papers that were of no use to you at the moment. "The children of King Jaehaerys and Queen Alyssane were a great starting point that I cannot yet move on from."

"My mother asked about your absence at the table. I told her you needed time, and that I was going to keep an eye on you." You nodded, a little flushed at the last part, but you knew how to hide it.

"That's Visenya Targaryen?" Jace asked excitedly as he looked at the draw in the book open on your legs, moving closer to you to get a better look, invading your space.

"Queen Visenya," you corrected him causing him to apologize. "Vhagar's first rider." You looked at the image closely admiring her beauty, trying to take in the closeness of Jacaerys. "And the first in her name."

Jacaerys watched you from the corner of his eye biting the inside of his cheek, he liked the way you corrected him, even on some occasions when you chatted privately he would purposely get it wrong to make you angry. You just looked up meeting your fiancé's gaze, which made him realize he had gone silent.

"This place is…" the heir looked around you carefully analyzing the place, he didn't know how to continue the sentence without offending you.

"Say it, a complete mess." You sighed exhaustedly.

The prince nodded with concern for your well being, you are his fiancée and he had to take care of you, he looked at you noticing your tired eyes, your hair a bit messy falling a few unruly strands down your face, the dress disarranged on your shoulders. And somehow, through his eyes, even though it sounded bad and he didn't have the courage to admit it out loud, that was attractive.

He took a lock of your hair and tidied it behind your ear, it was a gesture he repeated and you liked it.

"Do you need help?" you denied immediately, you didn't want to look pitiful or desperate. "Don't be proud, I know you."

"Apparently it's not as simple as I imagined." You said discouraged, looking at the papers scattered around you. You closed the book putting it aside, you couldn't think anymore, you were blocked, tired and your body was asking you to eat and rest, maybe not in that order. You stretched your legs, still sitting on the table with Jacaerys watching you. "Targaryen dynasty is vast and diffuse, complex to trace, now I understand why several names are missing. I don't want Rhaenyra to be disappointed, I'm trying my best."

Hearing you, Jacaerys quickly interrupted placing his hand on your thigh unknowingly unleashing a shiver down your back. "The queen could not have chosen anyone better than you, you are the smartest lady I know." He said sincerely, positioning his other hand on your shoulder. "Go to sleep, you need it."

Tired, you rested your forehead on his shoulder resting on it. Jacaerys stroked your loose hair without removing his hand on your leg. The physical contact comforted you, but you didn't accept it often, so it was a surprise for the prince to have you so close.

"I'll dream of dragons." You joked with your eyes closed, Jace's scent intoxicating you immediately. "I'll stay a while longer, I think I know where to find a thread to pull on."

"Eat something first." He added as he noticed the tray with the untouched plate. His caresses relaxed you, feeling his fingers tangle in your hair made you feel a delicious shiver, so you let him repeat it, even his tone of voice relaxed your muscles.

"I'm not hungry yet."

Jacaerys swallowed hard as your warm breath hit his neck, bristling his skin. He didn't know how the hell she was managing to control himself like that, when she held you close his thoughts were easily confused and the heart was about to burst out of his chest. In a moment of weakness, the prince closed her eyes in order to intensify the sensations, in the middle of the silence and taking advantage of the hidden place where they were, she squeezed thigh on the fabric of the dress, it was not strong, just enough to steal a sigh and that now the tachycardia clouded your reason. You didn't know at what moment that comforting embrace turned into a boundary of something else, Jacaerys Velaryon stirred as he felt the tip of your nose brush against his exposed neck before you, a slow, torturous contact.

The heir's hands were too still, he was controlling himself as much as his duty allowed him. While you had little interest in complying with the damned traditions, they were teenagers, you couldn't ask much of them in that regard.

The tension of their bodies rubbing against each other grew with each movement in a pleasant and affectionate rhythm, but you urgently needed it to increase, so you opened your legs to surround his body with your thighs, the prince did not think a second to position himself between them taking advantage to squeeze your ass tearing you a sigh that vanished in his mouth. You brought your lips to his neck leaving kisses all over, Jacaerys did not want to stop you, he had fallen too easily into the game. The prince's hands were eager to touch as much as possible went up from your waist to your breasts, you had never seen him like that, then your fiancé sought your mouth before you kissed his bristling skin again.

"Jace…" you whispered against his lips touching slowly with yours, your warm breath hitting his face, he could hear the desperation in your call looking into your eyes, but his gaze was focused on your wet lips.

Shit. His name sounded so different when you said it.

It was he who had the courage - or the impulse - to make the move to close the distance between you, an accurate approach to trap your lips between his, his hand took your jaw and prey to your desires you opened your mouth to let his tongue enter your cavity, sticky, wet noises echoed off the stone walls as Jacaerys brushed his tongue along yours. The taste of sweet wine ended up intoxicating him as well. His slow movement caused a wave of heat to grow in the underside of your belly, you rested a hand behind the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in his wavy hair.

Your heart could not calm down, on the contrary, it begged for more. The crown prince began to lift your red dress, a messy piece of infinite fabric, so you clumsily helped him by crumpling it until he slipped his hand underneath it, running his fingers over your bare skin playing with your sanity by how slowly he explored.

"Someone could see us at any moment." You reminded him that they weren't in the privacy of your quarters or his, trying to gesture because your labored breathing was making it hard to think.

"They can listen to whatever they want." He responde kissing your neck moving down to your collarbones, the heat of his mouth on your skin felt like the most exciting thing you had ever tasted. The intense grip on your legs didn't bother you at all because it was him, his deep voice made you bristle complete when he whispered too intoxicated in the moment to be his usual proper prince self. "I said I would take care of you."

You laughed at how little importance he gave to your innocent concerns, too sure that nothing was going to happen, but maybe it was just adrenaline and desire clouding his rational thoughts. Jacaerys kept going down, kissing between your breasts on the fabric, until he knelt before you, you held your breath when you understood his intentions, he raised his gaze towards you, an intense silence where your nobility was at stake for falling into carnal temptation, it was a few seconds until you decided to lift the skirt of your dress so he could have the access he desired.

Your fiancé began to kiss the inside of your thighs gently, just that minimal contact made you tremble on the table. "Don't close your legs." He ordered.

Your cheeks flared in heat as a reminder of the sin they were committing, yes, it was your fiancé who was between your legs unabashedly, but it was still Jace, whom you had known all your life and had grown up together, the most proper prince Westeros had ever seen, so devoted to duty that no one would imagine he would be able to steal your innocence out of wedlock, but there he was, he was the same, kneeling before you like a believer, kissing your thighs feeling his hot breath approaching your cunt exposed to his delight. The sighs coming out of your mouth were intensifying as Jacaerys swollen lips approached your most sensitive area making him beg, you felt he was toying with your sanity but he only wanted to extend your pleasure as long as you would hold out. Your hands clutched at the fabric of your dress, his wet tongue flicked across your cunt, he didn't quite finish his journey when your knees had the urgent urge to close like a natural spasm, but Jacaerys prevented it by holding your legs tightly apart for him, continuing his work of giving you the pleasure you deserved.

"Oh, Jace, gods." You said with bated breath, an emotional torture of not knowing how far you could go before you screamed. His tongue kept licking like candy, unabashedly tasting knowing what he was doing, moving up and down listening to your moans that excited him as much as it did you to feel his mouth on your center, the heir seemed to be having fun taking his time under your dress, reveling in your desperation. The warm wet sensation on your folds sliding down began to make you desperate, in an attempt to quiet your moans so as not to draw attention to yourself you bit your tongue so hard that the moan was one of pain rather than pleasure. You crumpled some papers in search of what to hold on to, you closed your eyes intensifying the spasms even more. "Jacaer…"

Saying his name seemed the most difficult task.

You managed to feel the crown prince's long fingers opening your pussy slippery with his saliva and your transparent wetness dripping. Again he ventured in with his mouth, this time with more euphoria and hunger, making little circles with his tongue, drowning himself in you tasting your cunt as he had never done to any of the whores on the island, with you he took great pains to get it right. Agitated, chest rising and falling from your erratic breathing the prince placed one of his hands on your belly as if he knew you were looking for him, intertwining his fingers you squeezed as his tongue pushed into your entrance. Curiosity as to how he learned to do that had to wait because your legs began to tremble and you began to move struggling against the strength of Jacaerys who wasn't going to stop servicing you until you were done.

"Please… Jace."

"You are so wet." Said the prince as an accomplishment, but you were embarrassed to know how vulnerable you were before him. The sound of his mouth playing with your clit, so wet and wrong, similar to a kiss where Jace was just doing all y he work. You searched for his head with your hand which was complicated by being hidden under your skirt, the damn dress prevented you from looking into his eyes, you wanted to look at him and beg his face not to stop now that you were so close to touching the best orgasm of your life. Jacaerys was struggling with your legs, so he put your thigh over his shoulder without letting go of your hand. "You have to hold on a little longer. I promise you'll like it."

"I c-can't." You cried trembling.

Between your legs, Prince Velaryon was reveling in your pleasure with a painful erection trapped in his pants that only hardened against the fabric with every high-pitched moan coming from your throat. He had to be strong to hold back the urge to take advantage of your wetness and penetrate you right then and there, that wasn't the first time he thought of you that way nor was it going to be the last after tonight, he would go to his quarters overwhelmed to attend to himself just thinking of you for another night. You were so open that with a little strength you could take it, but you were not ready for the moment and deep down, Jacaerys felt just as guilty for giving in to temptation by breaking traditions, disrespecting you to a lady of nobility.

"Jace, oh, like that." You moaned wiggling your hips.

But shit, he couldn't take one more moon without claiming that belongs to him. Your whole body, your every desperate moan and plea. It was an addictive melody that he didn't want it to end.

You reached for his head with your hand under the cloth that was being Jacaerys' salvation because if he saw your sweaty face, pink cheeks and pleading gestures he wasn't going to be able to hold back the urge, fucking you right there on that table. Merciful to your clumsiness, Jace took your hand turning it towards the back of his neck, you tangled his wavy hair between your fingers, bringing it closer to your center than it already was which only encouraged your fiancé to lose control by gently biting your cunt and with his finger caressing your exposed clit like a throbbing button.

"Gods!" You exclaimed so loudly that Jace feared for both of your lives. You covered your mouth yourself, waiting for someone to walk in and find them you sitting at the table with the heir kneeling between your legs under your dress. "I-I'm sorry." You whispered in exasperation.

"Scream whatever you want." It was a command rather than a comfort.

And you listened to him. Your body couldn't resist any longer, the spasms were getting stronger and Jacaerys knew you were close to orgasm, your legs faltered and couldn't hold still. You pulled your fiancé's hair, which instead of annoying him, he liked to feel. You mumbled incoherently, cursing everything, your hips couldn't stay still and Jacaerys' tongue wasn't making it any easier. You let go of the heir's hand on your belly to cover your mouth, however, Jace grabbed your wrist preventing that from happening. The rule had been clear, he wanted to hear you screaming his name to burn it into his memory, he wanted to hear your whimpers and pleas not to stop, your choked moans, the curses and incoherent ramblings.

"Jace!" your chest was rising and falling so fast you felt short of breath. The pressure between your legs was increasing, you closed your eyes tightly trying to hold on a second longer, but it was impossible. "Oh, shit!"

Your orgasm came as a spasm that controlled your whole body, from your hair to your legs. Jacaerys knew it when the tension in your muscles disappeared and he didn't have to exert any more force to hold you back. His pace slowed considerably, he didn't hold back from licking one last time.

Your body was wracked, aroused to return to normal. Your chest was expanding and contracting fast, the sweaty skin made it look shiny. Your body had peaked, and now, you missed Jacaerys' tongue between your legs. The heir stepped out from under your skirt, his mouth wet from his own saliva and your wetness in a mixture that soaked into his pink, swollen lips. The prince was red in the face, his hair falling down his face in the most exciting mess, he looked so good. He wiped his mouth with his clothes and fixed his hair behind his ears without taking eyes off you.

"You were very good lady." He stroked his thumb across your red cheek, you closed your eyes at his gentle, almost brotherly caress, a well-deserved congratulations. You were still weak and rambunctious with ragged breathing and a high pulse, your body wasn't going to withstand another orgasm, not for tonight. Jace moved closer to your face, he wanted to admire you up close, your exposed neck was the target of a kiss. "Did you like it?" he whispered so slowly against your ear that a shiver brought you back to reality. His breath beating against your damp skin was a reminder that you were completely crazy about him, no one in all of Westeros could service you so well.

You nodded in shame and innocence. You couldn't hear him, but you knew he was smiling.

"Y-yes." You replied looking into his eyes. Your innocent look reignited the fire in Jacaerys, who was still holding back the urge to fuck you.

The prince closed his eyes and swallowed saliva in frustration. He had to be aware that no matter how good it felt, it wasn't right.

"We can't do it here again." He took your face in his hands caressing your skin with his fingers. You nodded again, seeing you so obediently at his mercy only triggered his excitement, fighting until the last second. Jacaerys moved closer to your face, you closed your eyes expecting him to kiss you, but you only felt the brush of his lips against yours and his breath against your mouth. "Next time I'll rip that fucking dress off you myself with my bare hands."

[moonlightazriel]

Love Sick ///Aemond X F!Reader

Summary: Alys Rivers had a vision about the prince’s arrivals, using her charm to lure him, she haven’t anticipated you, his new wife. So a little something might help him see who he truly belongs.

Warnings: SMUT

Word Count: 1,8K

Notes: I have read a lot of love potions fics and decided to give it a try. So here we are.

Main Masterlist

Alys Rivers always had visions, the flames would always tell her their secrets, this made it easier for her to survive. Yet, one vision kept appearing for her, a Targaryen Prince, dressed in his battle gears, long silvery hair tied to his back, a scar across his beautiful face.

She anticipated his arrival at Harrenhal way before it was even decided he should go. So when she heard the roar high in the skies, and saw the huge dragon landing in her home, she knew her time had come.

She had tended to him since he stepped his foot in Harrenhal, preparing his bath, serving his food, and occasionally flirting with him, she noticed how he looked at her, she was a pretty woman, long black hair and emerald green eyes, she was sure that it would just take a couple of days and he would fall for her.

Whoever, what Alys Rivers haven’t seen in her visions, was the Baratheon beauty arriving a week later. Lord Borros' third daughter, known for her breathtaking looks and even more impressive brain.

Lady Baratheon strolled through the front door, guards behind her as she walked through Harrenhal. And Alys watched with horror as the woman entered the dining room, giving a little smile to the Prince before slowly making her way towards him.

“Lord Husband.” She greeted, kissing his cheek and squeezing his shoulders, Aemond gave her a small nod and gestured for her to join him.

“How was your journey, my lady?” He inquired as the servers prepared her a plate, she politely thanked the maid before taking a piece of green bean with her fork.

“Quite exhausting, I am happy to finally settle down.” She bites her food. “Your dear mother was right, it feels good to be away from the Keep.” Aemond chuckled.

“Do not remind me of all that chaos.” She smiled at him, Alys kept in the corner watching the exchange in silent anger.

“Queen Helaena sent her greetings to you, my dear.” He held her hand.

“Did she talk to you?” Y/N nodded.

“Just a few words, but she seems better.” Helaena was still grieving the loss of her children in the hands of Daemon’s assassins.

“More wine, my Prince?” Alys intervened, her voice low and sensual, the prince turned his eyes to her, lifting his goblet. She could be his wife, but Alys knew what desire looked like, perhaps the prince just needed a little help.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Prince Aemond was in his study room, book in hands as he took some time off. Alys knocked, hearing his powerful voice commanding her inside.

“I brought some tea, my prince.” She placed the mug with the hot tea on his desk.

A simple love potion, she knew that he had feelings for her, so this would simply amplify them, make them so unbearable that he wouldn’t have any other choice than to go looking for her. He would claim her as his, as it should’ve been.

Alys excused herself, going straight to her room in the servants wing, she needed to get ready for when Aemond Targaryen knocked on her door and took her in his arms.

She had cleaned her room, and then, took a long shower, rubbing a scented soap on her skin, making herself look flawless. She sat on the bed and waited for him.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Y/N brushed her hair, Harrenhal was quite hot, so she asked the maid to run her a bath, she didn’t plan on leaving her chambers, so a silky nightgown covered her body while she took care of her hair.

The door was abruptly opened, making her jump in her seat. Her husband, without his coat and with four buttons of his linen shirt open, looked at her, a smirk on his lips as he entered the room.

“You know, dear wife?” He closed the door, walking towards her. “It was always you, when I went to Storm's End that day, it was you I had in mind.” His tone was slow, like he had been drinking.

He grabbed her hand, removing the brush and placing it on the desk. His other hand brushed her shoulder, pulling the straps down just a little.

“So beautiful, such a smooth skin. I know I had to have you.” He pulled her up, spinning her around until she was facing him, her hands splayed on his chest while he held her close by the waist. “You smell so good.” The prince said, smelling the skin of her neck.

Y/N felt her cheeks flushed at the attention, heating pooling in between her legs, forcing her to close them for some friction, as Aemond started to kiss her neck.

His touch was delicate, his lips cold against her hot skin. Kissing, licking and biting, making her whimper at the sensation spreading across her body.

“A-Aemond.” She half spoke half moaned, making the prince grow impossibly harder, his cock painfully restrained by his pants.

“You sound divine when you moan my name.” He said, getting away from her and walking towards the bed. He sat down, still looking at her, his shirt was messy and fully opened now. “Come here, my dear wife.” She made a move to walk to him but he stopped her. “Take it off.” He ordered.

She shivered as she saw the lust on his gaze, with shaking fingers, she undone the laces holding her nightgown in place, letting it pool at her feet, standing there completely bare to his hungry eye. His pink tongue darted out, wetting his lips as he eyed her up and down.

“You’re a goddess, I cannot wait to see you choke on my cock.” He grabbed her hand as she got close, pulling her straight to his lap. He kissed her, tongue exploring her mouth, hands cupping her ass.

She reached for the eyepatch, throwing across the room, she hated that damned thing, covering his beauty from her.

“You’re so beautiful, my prince.” She breathed, his lips attached to her breasts. Sucking the nipple in his mouth and moving his tongue in circles, making her squirm in his lap, brushing his hard cock.

He squeezed her flash, kissed her like he was going to die in the next second, and she moved her hips against his clothed cock, making it very hard to keep controlled. He never felt that kind of lust before, but he was ready to give in.

Y/N got up, and slowly kneeled in front of him, she had heard the ladies in court talking about the pleasures the mouth could bring to a husband, and despite the lack of experience, she wanted to try.

She reached for his belt, removing it and opening his pants, he lifted his hips just enough for her to slide all the pieces of clothes he was wearing down, freeing his dripping cock from its cage.

She swallowed hard, hesitantly grabbing it in her hands, earning a hiss from him. She moved her hand up and down, slowly, taking encouragement in his groans, the pleasure growing in him as she gently stroked him.

In a more bold move, she lowered her head, giving it a lick in the tip, Aemond shivering as she did so, she looked at him, giving him a small smile that could be the death of him. Then, she took him in her mouth, bobbing her head and masturbating what she couldn’t fit in her mouth. Aemond closed his eyes, buckling his hips and enjoying the sounds of her choking on his cock whenever she went too deep.

She hummed, sending vibrations down his cock, making his balls tight and the orgasm wash over him, his cock twitching, sending hot cum down her throat. She removed her mouth, coughing a little.

“You look so beautiful, kneeling in front of me.” He praised, his thumb caressing her cheek, making her blush as he looked at her. “Allow me.” He said, pulling her up and laying her down.

He got in between her legs, his breath fanning over her hot core, he circled the back of her legs, squeezing her skin and pulling her thighs apart. Smirking at her glistening cunt, he sank there, lapping at her folds, collecting all of her juice as she arched her back, moaning his name like a prayer.

He kissed her clit, rubbing circles with his tongue, making her see stars. Freeing one of his hands, he inserted two fingers inside her cunt, pumping them inside and out, in the same ruthless pace as his tongue. She moaned his name loudly enough to echo around the walls, feeling the knot in her belly grow until it was ready to snap. Driving her over the edge, her walls clenching around his fingers and closing her shaking legs around his head.

Aemond smirked against her, feeling her recover from her orgasm, he looked at her, sweat coating her forehead and panting, her chest moving up and down rapidly.

“Do you want more, my goddess?” She looked at him, smirking at her like the devil and she nodded. In a second, Aemond was on top of her, without any clothes and his cock ready for a second round.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Alys tapped in the bed frame, growing restless as the potion should be working in this exact moment but Aemond was nowhere to be seen. She got up, grabbing a robe and sliding it over her shoulders.

She walked towards the Prince chambers, forcing the door open just a little, she gasped as she peeked inside.

Lady Baratheon was facing the door, her eyes closed and mouth slacked open as she moaned loudly for him. “Do not stop!” She begged, her voice hoarse from all the screaming.

She was on all fours, her ass high in the air as Prince Aemond pounded inside her from behind, moving so fast that her breasts bounced back and forth.

Alys wanted to move but she was rooted in place, the potion had clearly worked but with the wrong person.

“Please, Aemond. I am going to cum.” She whined, and the prince pulled her hair behind, forcing her to look at him.

“And i am going to stuff you full with my heirs, make you swell with my seed and birth my children.” His tone so raw that Alys felt her cheeks hot in embarrassment, Lady Baratheon moaned his name, her body convulsing as her orgasm crashed down on her again, followed by him spilling inside her.

Alys watched as the prince removed himself from inside her, his hands stuffing his cum back inside her cunt. “I love you.” He breathed, pulling her by the hair again and kissing her with all he had.

“I love you too.” She replied, face flush red as she tried to recover from the amazing sex.

Alys walked backwards, running away from the scene, knowing that no matter what she did, she could never break the bond the two shared.

[iholdwhatican]

tension

part two to reunions - must read part 1 first!

pairing: art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig

length: 3.2k

author's note: this took wayyyy too long for me to do yall, i'm so sorry. these two have a tight hold on me and i'm in the trenches. i've got some good stuff lined up tho, and i'm super excited to write it heeheehee :) also smut in the future will be much longer and much more detailed, just fyi

tags: y/n is art donaldson's wife ; birthday party ; art is down bad ; patrick wants y/n ; possessive!art ; the boys are fighting ; no use of y/n ; pining ; sexual tension ; sugar mommy y/n? ; unapologetic flirting with your bff's wife at his birthday party

warnings: sexual content, p in v, not super detailed but still there!

summary: the stressful night of the birthday party continues, and you find yourself pinging between art and patrick like a tennis ball. how the hell did you get yourself into this?

originally posted by iholdwhatican

It took four minutes and 36 seconds of Art and Patrick being alone outside before the anxiety became too much. Your dress was too tight against your skin and the chatter of the guests rattled in your skull. Your mind replayed the anger on Art’s face over and over, convinced that he’d direct it at you the moment he came back in. And if you were being honest, you couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. 

Your blood boiled with the ferocity of it, and an ache in your core begged for another taste. 

Another three minutes and 18 seconds passed while you downed half of your second glass of wine. You made conversation with a few people who caught your eye, making sure all the food and drink were up to par. Not that you really could care about that right now. Your mind was a jumble of thoughts about the two men on the balcony. 

Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick

“You look like you’re gonna puke.” 

For the second time that night, Patrick Zweig’s voice made you jump. 

You looked at him, catching sight of that damned smirk that made your stomach flip, and furrowed your brows. One quick scan of the room came up empty for your husband, forcing the anxiety in your chest to worsen. 

“Where’s Art?” You asked, not missing the way your voice wobbled slightly. 

“Relax.” Patrick responded, resting a hand on your shoulder, “He went to the kitchen, I think. I didn’t kill him. And he didn’t run for the hills either.” 

You decided not to comment on how easily he’d read your worries without you saying anything. For some reason, you were an open book to him. 

A deep sigh left you. You licked your lips anxiously- which immediately caused Patrick’s eyes to fall on your mouth. 

“What happened out there?” 

The man gave you a shrug, letting his hand fall back to his side, “Nothing, really. We just talked for a bit. He told me I could stay, as long as I stopped flirting with you.” 

“So does that mean you’re going to stop?” The idea made you slightly unhappy, which in turn filled you with guilt. Why were you so excited by his flirtations when you had a wonderful, loving husband who treated you like a queen? 

But then Patrick grinned, and you knew the answer before he said it, “Well, I’ve never been one to do what I’m told.” 

A smile grew over your lips, and you tried to hide it with an eye roll, “Why don’t you mingle? Try some food. I’m going to find my husband.” 

He didn’t miss the enunciation you put on ‘my husband’, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened as you said it. You didn’t give it time to linger, instead turning away and moving towards the kitchen. 

You knew the look Patrick had in his eyes. You’d seen it a dozen times in Art’s. On the court, over a board game, in all sorts of scenarios. And every time, even now, the look sent a chill down your spine. 

That expression was clear, resolute competition. 

Just as Patrick had said, you found Art in the kitchen. With his back to you, you had a perfect view of his tense shoulders and hanging head as he poured himself a glass of water. He was all wound up, and you knew it was your fault. Now it was your responsibility to fix it. 

You stepped up behind him, sliding a hand between his shoulder blades. He didn’t hesitate to lean into the touch, a subconscious reaction. He knew it was you just by the feel of your hand on him. And, even if he might be furious, he still found comfort in it. 

“Hey…” You breathed, leaning to the side to meet his gaze. Art looked at you over his shoulder, a half-smile quirking his lips up, “How are you doing?” 

“Hey.” He responded, turning and sliding his hands over your hips. Your chest pressed against his as he leaned down and placed a kiss on your hairline. Then he just lingered there, breathing in your smell, “I honestly don’t know. I just- it was so weird to see him.” 

“Yeah, of course it was.” Your words reached him in a soft, comforting tone. The guilt of putting your perfect, doting husband in this situation was enough to make you feel like you had barbed wire around your neck. You had to pay penance- somehow. You rubbed your hand in circles over his back, “I’m sorry, sundrop. I don’t know what I was thinking when I invited him.” 

Sundrop. A nickname that went way back to the early days of your relationship. Art was an energetic puppy dog with a halo of golden curls and a smile that made your insides feel hot. He was what you pictured a personification of the sun to be, hence the pet name. He pretended not to like it, but his eyes always sparkled a certain way when you said it. 

Art pulled his head away to peer down into your eyes, his own pensive and confused, “No, baby, don’t be sorry. It was a great fucking surprise. Just… a surprise.” 

You shook your head. He was so fucking good to you, “You’re allowed to be mad at me.” 

“Mad? At you?” In one quick motion, he picked you up and set you on the counter. Your legs opened for him without hesitation, allowing him to slot right in between them, “I don’t think that’s possible.”

You fought the blush rising in your cheeks and rolled your eyes, “You think too highly of me.” 

“No. Never.” He replied instantly. He kissed your chin. Then your jaw. Then your neck. Then down your throat, “As far as I’m concerned, you’re God.” 

“Art-” You argued, though you weren’t sure what for. You tilted your neck back and offered yourself up to him. 

“I could spend my life on my knees for you and be happy.” His words were muffled as he mouthed at your neck, sending shivers down your spine. This, combined with the kiss from earlier, was making you ache with need. You were half-tempted to end the party early and take your pretty husband to bed. 

You bit your lip when he ran his tongue over a sensitive spot above your collarbone. If he wasn’t in between them, you’d be squeezing your thighs together. 

When Art pulled away, his eyes had darkened. Dilated pupils and heavy breaths told you all you needed to know. He was just as fucking horny as you were right now. His hands held your hips tighter. 

“Do you think we’d be left alone long enough for me to show you how much I mean it?” He asked. It was almost as if he were begging. As if he couldn’t bear the idea of doing anything other than dropping to his knees and devouring you. 

And God, when he looked at you like that, you had no choice but to say yes. 

Unfortunately, fate intervened, and you were kept from making a scene at your husband’s birthday party. 

“Hey, you two, quit snogging and come entertain us!” One of Art’s tennis friends called, sticking their head into the kitchen. The big grin on their face told you it was just teasing, but you still felt your face burning with embarrassment. 

“It’s my birthday, let me do what I want.” Art jeered right back, lifting you off the counter and back onto your own two feet. You laughed airily at the comment, feeling more light-headed than anything. 

Before following his friend back into the action, he whispered a quick, “Later, okay?” to you. And then he left you standing in the kitchen- touch-starved, foggy-headed, and excruciatingly aroused. 

It was then that you realized you didn’t even get to ask him what happened with Patrick.

Upon re-entering the party, you found yourself taking note of two things- or rather, two people. One, Art- conversing with some friends from the foundation with a big grin on his face. Two, Patrick- having his fill of finger foods from the refreshment table. He was alone. And though you tried to fight it, you found yourself gravitating towards him. 

“Do they not have food where you’re from?” You teased, falling into place at his side. Your gaze slid over the spread before flicking up to his face. 

You’d caught him mid-bite, and he attempted to swallow quickly and regain his composure. Something warmed slightly in your chest. Endearing. 

“Well, I’m kinda… in between places right now.” He explained, tongue stuck in his cheek to clear out residual bits of food, “And there’s never stuff as good as this.” 

You let the compliment slide away, instead focusing on his more troubling response, “Are you homeless?” 

“What? No.” He chuckled, as if the question were preposterous, “I go all over for tennis. It’s just easier to stay on the move.” 

You raised an eyebrow, “And on off-season?” 

Something in his expression darkened, only for a moment, and then he was back to cocky smiles and overwhelming confidence, “I’m too busy to care about that. And what’s it matter to you, anyway?” 

“I’d like to think I’m a good person.” You said, plucking a snack off the table and popping it into your mouth. You chewed it halfway before continuing, “And a good person worries if they think someone they care about isn’t doing well.” 

Patrick grinned at you for five long seconds. And it took him actually saying the words to realize where you’d slipped up. 

“You care about me?” 

Shit. You had not meant to say that. Why was this man so damn good at getting every little thought in your head to spill out of your mouth? 

“If caring about you means I don’t want you sleeping under a bridge somewhere, then sure.” 

“Okay, I would never let it get that far-” 

“I wanna help.” 

He blinked, “Help how?” Briefly, very briefly, you thought of your bed. Your comfortable, spacious bed, perfect for three individuals. You could picture it- you, safe and sound and nestled between the two men. Art, your lovely, obedient husband on one side, letting himself love and be loved. And Patrick on the other side, nice and cozy with a roof over his head and a full belly. 

The image flashed in an instant, and you were left with hollow, heavy guilt. You swallowed. 

“How much do you need?” 

“Huh?” You rolled your eyes at him, “How much money do you need? To keep you afloat for the next little while. And I’ll send you home tonight with leftovers.” 

Patrick let the words wash over him, slowly smiling as they did. He took a step towards you, close enough that one tiny shove would have your bodies pressed together. You could smell him, all sweat and cigarettes and woodsy cologne that made your head spin. You’d been wound up all night, and this was absolutely not helping. 

“You gonna write me a check? Use your hard-earned money to get a practical stranger a hotel for a couple nights?” He murmured, heavy on the charm, “What would your husband think?” 

He knew he’d gotten under your skin. He knew what he was doing. He was fucking enjoying this. 

You tried to hold your ground, looking up at him through your lashes, “It’s his money, actually. He makes sure I never have to work unless I want to.” 

“Guess he treats you pretty well. And look how you’re taking advantage of it.” His hand lay on the table next to yours, his fingertips nearly brushing the skin of your wrist. How bad would it be if you closed the gap? 

You bit your lip, “You’re allowed to turn me down.” 

“I don’t think I’d ever turn you down, Mrs. Donaldson.” 

Something about that title, something about the way he said it, made your blood run hot and cold at the same time. It reminded you of the myths of sirens. Beautiful monsters of the sea that used their voices to bring others to their demise. Talking to Patrick had that same type of allure, and the sense of danger. 

“Then tell me what you need.” 

“What do you think I need?” 

Oh, you could think of a few things. But you could also feel a pair of eyes on you, and you knew exactly who they belonged to. Part of you wanted to tempt him, see if you could get another reaction like out on the balcony. However, you quickly shot the idea down. Not right now, not in the middle of a crowded party.

Lips curving into an innocent smile, you pushed yourself a step back from him, “I think you need a nice place to sleep. And a few good meals. And maybe a hug.” 

The sudden switch-up took Patrick by surprise, but he handled it smoothly and responded only a beat later, “You’re offering?” 

“At least for the first two.” You didn’t know what you’d do if you were in his arms. With the way you were feeling now, with two glasses of wine in your system, your boundaries were getting blurrier and blurrier. How humiliating. 

His bottom lip jutted out into a pout. Which unfortunately dragged your gaze right down to his mouth. It took you a moment too long to meet his eyes again. 

“What, we can’t hug? Don’t you consider me a friend?” 

“I do.” You shrugged, tucking loose hair behind your ear, “Maybe I’m just not a touchy person.” 

A lie. You knew it, and you could tell by the look on his face that he knew it too.

“Yeah.” He smirked, sounding the opposite of sincere, “Art’s wife isn’t a touchy person. Sure.” 

You needed a cold shower. Or to go have some one-on-one time with your vibrator. Or maybe move to the seaside and spend your days going mad in a lighthouse. You weren’t sure. All you knew was how increasingly hot you were feeling. 

“Speaking of Art, go talk to him. Try to make amends. Meet some of his friends.” You suggested, glancing over at your husband. He wasn’t watching you anymore, at least not straight on. But he had a radar when it came to you, and he was very diligent in keeping tabs. No matter what.

“You trying to get rid of me?” Patrick asked lightly. No heat behind the words. 

“Oh, yes.” You admitted, placing your hands on his shoulders and pointing him towards Art, “Find me again before you leave and I’ll have your check.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned at you over his shoulder, sending a wink before sauntering off. 

Finally, you felt like you could actually get a breath in your lungs. 

The party had ended. Guests went home, Patrick got his check and headed to a hotel you recommended, and you and your partner left all the cleanup for the morning. You barely gave it a second glance as you went up to bed with him, your hand held tightly in his. 

Art fucked you like a starving man that night. You barely got into the room before his lips were plastered on your skin, his hands unzipping your dress with quick precision. He was usually much more reserved, but something about tonight had made him ravenous. And he wasn’t the only one.

You ended up on his lap; bare chests pressed together, skin sweaty and breaths heavy as you rolled your hips into him. His hands clutched your thighs, keeping you close, fingers pressing into the flesh. You pulled on his hair and his head immediately fell back. As if he were a puppet for you to position and use however you wanted. His eyes looked up at you with a fire in them you’d never seen before, but the adoration, the reverence, was all too familiar. 

Your name fell from his lips over and over again like a prayer. The single word weaved with threads of devotion, possessiveness, desire. A song joined in chorus by whatever nonsensical phrase entered his head. I love you, so perfect, all mine, please, please, please. 

He was claiming you. Marking his territory in his own special way. It didn’t matter that Patrick wasn’t here to see it, or that he probably would never even know. As long as Art could tell himself that you were his, he’d be okay. Jealousy was a good look on him. 

You could feel your core tighten with each and every movement of his hips against you. You weren’t going to last much longer. But by the look in your husband’s eyes, neither was he. 

Parted lips claimed yours in a messy kiss, tongue sliding into your mouth and exploring every open space. Then you were being flipped over; back pressed into the mattress as Art rocked into you with reckless abandon. He intertwined his fingers with yours and pinned your hands above your head without ever breaking the kiss. 

You lasted about thirty seconds. Finally, the tension in you snapped and your orgasm washed over you in waves, leaving you limp and trembling. Art finished only a moment later. You could feel him pulsing inside of you as the aftershocks slowly faded away. The room reeked of sweat and sex and your head was spinning. 

Art, your precious, dutiful man, rested his head on your chest as he attempted to catch his breath. You could feel the tickle of his lips kissing your skin, the soft squeeze of his hands on your hips. You ran a hand through his damp hair, fingers massaging his scalp. 

“I love you.” He murmured against your ribs, right over your thundering heart. He said it like he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed, like he didn’t believe you were here, that you were his. 

Dark hair and cigarette smoke flashed through your mind. Almost-touching hands and paper checks. 

“I love you.” You responded, kissing his hairline, “Happy Birthday, baby.” 

The only response you got was a tired, happy sound and another kiss to your collarbone. A quick adjustment later and the two of you were tucked under the blankets, your head on Art’s chest and his arm around you. Neither of you cared enough to clean yourselves up or to put pajamas on. Art was already softly snoring next to you, and you could feel your eyelids getting heavy.

As you listened to the baddump of his heart, a strange thought flitted through your mind. You’d just had the best sex of your life, and it was because of Patrick. You weren’t the only one who’d been thinking of him while in the throes of passion. The notion made something strange twinge in your gut. 

And then, like he’d somehow read your mind, your phone lit up with a text. 

Patrick Zweig: You free for lunch tomorrow?

***

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