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hisfavegirl · 2 days ago

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Obsession's Edge - Maegor Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Summary : He was a man of war, a conqueror forged in battle and bloodshed. But tonight, as he stood before you, his eyes held something else—something more dangerous than rage. Expectation. You knew what he meant. Your fate had been decided long before this moment. You were to be the last. The final wife. The one who would give him what he desired most. A son. A legacy.

Word Count : 8k

Maegor Targaryen Masterlist.

House Of The Dragon Masterlist.

and also big thanks to @zaldritzosrose for let me using yours beautiful dividers 🫶🏻.

The scene unfolds in the dimly lit halls of the Red Keep, where tension clings to the air like a heavy shroud. You stand at the edge of the grand chamber, your hands clasped tightly in front of you as your eyes rest on the imposing figure of your brother, Maegor. His towering frame radiates power, and the infamous Blackfyre sword in his hand glints ominously in the flickering torchlight.

Once again, Maegor’s guards carry the lifeless body of his latest wife, his fifth attempt at securing a son and heir. The sight is as grim as it is familiar. The bloodstains on her pale dress speak of another failed birth, another sacrifice in Maegor’s unrelenting quest for a legacy.

Your stomach churns as you glance at your mother, Visenya, who stands by the hearth. She holds Maegor’s infant daughter—another girl—in her arms. Her face is a mask of cold indifference, her piercing gaze fixed on her son. The child wails softly, but Visenya pays her no mind, cradling the babe as if she were holding a mere object, not flesh and blood.

You take a hesitant step forward. “Brother,” you begin, your voice steady but cautious. “How much longer will this… madness continue? The gods—”

“The gods have cursed me!” Maegor growls, his voice echoing through the chamber. His knuckles whiten as he grips Blackfyre tighter. “They deny me a son, but I will not be denied. I am the blood of the dragon. I will have an heir.”

“And how many more must die for you to prove that?” you ask softly, though your words are like daggers. Your heart aches at the scene before you, but you know better than to openly defy him. Maegor’s wrath is as legendary as his strength.

His dark eyes meet yours, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something— frustration, desperation. But it’s gone in an instant, replaced by the familiar coldness. “You speak of things you do not understand,” he snaps, his tone brooking no argument.

Visenya finally breaks her silence. “Enough,” she says, her voice calm but commanding. “This is not the time to quarrel. There is work to be done.”

You glance at your mother, noting the faint lines of weariness on her face. Even Visenya Targaryen, the indomitable matriarch, cannot entirely mask the strain of watching her son spiral further into darkness.

Maegor steps closer to you, his imposing presence casting a long shadow over your smaller frame. “Do not speak to me of curses or consequences,” he hisses. “You do not bear the weight of a throne, sister. You do not understand the price of power.”

Your throat tightens, but you hold your ground. “And you do not understand the price of the lives you destroy,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, silence stretches between you. The tension is palpable, the air thick with unspoken words. Then, without another word, Maegor turns on his heel and storms out of the chamber, the echo of his boots fading into the distance.

Visenya approaches you, the infant still cradled in her arms. Her expression softens slightly as she looks at you. “Do not provoke him,” she says quietly. “It will do no good.”

“And neither will enabling him,” you counter, though your tone lacks the fire of before.

She sighs, a rare sign of weariness. “We are Targaryens. We endure. We survive. That is what matters.”

As she walks away, the child’s cries growing fainter, you’re left alone in the chamber. The weight of your family’s legacy presses down on you, and you can’t help but wonder: How many more will suffer before the madness ends?

The corridors of the Red Keep were eerily silent as you made your way back to your chambers. The events of the night weighed heavily on your mind. You tried to banish the thoughts of your mother and Maegor, of the infant girl whose cries still echoed faintly in your ears. You didn’t want to think about what would become of the child—or what decisions your family might make under the cover of darkness.

Entering your chamber, you let out a soft sigh and closed the heavy wooden door behind you, shutting out the world beyond. The flickering light of the fireplace cast long shadows across the room, offering a small semblance of warmth in the cold, unforgiving keep.

You approached the dressing table and began to undo the clasps of your gown. Your hands moved mechanically, your mind still racing with questions you dared not voice. Was it truly the gods who cursed your brother, or was this all a punishment of his own making?

The silk of your gown slipped from your shoulders and pooled around your feet. You exchanged it for a simpler nightgown, one that offered comfort over extravagance. The soft fabric brushed against your skin as you pulled it over your head, and for a moment, you felt a sense of relief, however fleeting.

But before you could settle in, a quiet sound behind you made you freeze—a faint shuffling, as if someone was in the room. Your heart quickened, and you turned sharply, eyes scanning the dimly lit space. Then, you saw it: the hidden door in the far corner of your chamber, one you hadn’t even known existed until recently, creaked open.

From the shadows emerged Maegor, his imposing figure casting a long shadow on the stone floor. He stepped into the room with a purposeful stride, his expression unreadable, though his eyes were intense. He had shed his armor, but Blackfyre was still strapped to his side, a constant reminder of who he was.

“Brother,” you said cautiously, your voice low. “What are you doing here? It’s late.”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he closed the hidden door behind him, the soft click echoing in the quiet room. His gaze swept over you, taking in your disheveled appearance and the soft fabric of your nightgown.

“You shouldn’t leave yourself so unguarded,” he said finally, his tone matter-of-fact but carrying an edge.

You frowned. “I am in my own chambers. Do you expect an assassin to crawl out of the shadows?”

“In this keep?” he said with a dry chuckle. “You’d be a fool to think yourself safe, even here.”

His words sent a chill down your spine, but you tried not to show it. “Why are you here, Maegor? Did you come to discuss safety, or is there something else on your mind?”

He moved closer, his heavy boots barely making a sound against the stone floor. “Do you think me a monster?” he asked abruptly, his voice low but sharp.

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated, searching for the right words. “I think…” you began slowly, “that you’ve done monstrous things. But I also think the weight of the crown has hardened you more than it should.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked away, as if considering your words. Then he turned back to you, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

“I do what must be done,” he said firmly, though there was a flicker of something—doubt, perhaps—in his voice. “Do you think I enjoy this? Do you think I take pleasure in burying wife after wife, child after child?”

“I don’t know what you feel,” you admitted softly. “You don’t let anyone see that part of you.”

He stepped closer, his presence almost suffocating. “And what would it change if they did? Would it bring me a son? Would it silence the whispers of weakness?”

“No,” you said firmly, meeting his gaze. “But it might remind people that you’re still human. That you still bleed like the rest of us.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and he studied you for a long moment. Then, without warning, he reached out and cupped your face in his hand. The gesture was almost tender, a stark contrast to the coldness you had come to associate with him.

“You’re different,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “You see me, not just the crown. Not just the king.”

“Because I’m your sister,” you said quietly, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “And because I know there’s still something good in you, no matter how deeply you’ve buried it.”

For a moment, it looked as though he might say something more. But instead, he released you and stepped back, the moment of vulnerability passing as quickly as it had come.

“Get some rest,” he said, his tone colder now, though there was a hint of softness beneath it. “Tomorrow will bring more battles, as it always does.”

You took a deep breath and turned toward Maegor before he could step back into the hidden passage.

“Stay,” you said softly, your voice breaking the silence.

He turned to look at you, his sharp features shadowed in the dim candlelight. “It’s late,” he replied curtly, his tone clipped. “You should rest. So should I.”

“I’m asking you to stay with me,” you said, stepping closer. Your voice was steady, though your heart was racing. “You’re my brother, Maegor. I don’t mind your company, and you need the rest just as much as I do.”

He hesitated, his piercing eyes narrowing slightly. “I am not in the habit of seeking comfort,” he said gruffly, though the way his hand lingered on the hilt of Blackfyre betrayed some inner conflict.

“You don’t have to seek it,” you replied gently, moving closer until you stood directly in front of him. “I’m offering it to you.”

For a long moment, he said nothing. The air between you was tense, and you could see the walls he kept around himself, the ones he refused to let anyone breach. But then, with a reluctant sigh, he nodded.

“Fine,” he muttered, as though he was doing you a favor. “But don’t think this will become a habit.”

You gave him a small, reassuring smile. “Of course not.”

As he stood there, unmoving, you reached for the heavy belt that secured Blackfyre at his hip. Your fingers brushed against his as you began to unfasten it, and for a moment, his hand lingered before he let you take over. Carefully, you slid the belt free and placed it on the small table near your bed.

“You don’t always have to carry it, you know,” you said, glancing back at him as you gestured to Blackfyre.

He let out a low, humorless chuckle. “I do,” he replied simply. “It’s who I am.”

“You’re more than that sword, Maegor,” you said, your tone soft but firm. “Even if you don’t believe it.”

You paused, your breath hitching as Maegor’s words hung in the air.

“Perhaps the reason my wives have failed me,” he said, his voice low and almost thoughtful, “is because they are not of the blood of the dragon. But you…”

He let the statement linger, and you turned your head to look at him. His piercing gaze met yours, unflinching, filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

“Maegor,” you said quietly, your voice trembling slightly. “You can’t mean that.”

“Why not?” he replied, his tone unwavering. He leaned closer, his hand sliding to your arm and pulling you gently into his embrace. “You are of the blood of Old Valyria, born to the same fire and blood that flows through my veins. If anyone could give me a son—a true heir—it would be you.”

Your mind raced, his words sinking in. You had always known that your mother, had plans for you—plans tied to your brother’s throne. She had often spoken of uniting the bloodlines to strengthen House Targaryen. But hearing Maegor speak of it so plainly, so deliberately, made your chest tighten.

“That’s why Mother promised me to you,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

He nodded, his hand moving to gently cradle the side of your face. “She sees what I see,” he said, his voice softer now. “The strength in you. The fire.”

You tried to look away, but he held you there, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Do you think I want this, Maegor?” you asked, your tone laced with a mixture of uncertainty and defiance.

“I think,” he began, his lips brushing against your temple as he spoke, “that it is not about what we want, but what we must do—for the house, for the throne, and for the bloodline.”

You shivered as his words sank in, and though you wanted to push him away, his warmth was oddly comforting. He tightened his hold on you, his strength both intimidating and reassuring.

“You could give me what no one else has,” he whispered against your ear, his voice sending a chill down your spine. “A son. An heir. You could ensure the strength of our house for generations to come.”

“Maegor…” you started, but your words faltered as his hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer.

“Think about it,” he said, his tone still calm but laced with something darker, something possessive. “It is your destiny. You were meant for me.”

You felt your resolve waver, torn between the weight of his words and the emotions swirling within you. You had grown up knowing your place in the family, knowing what was expected of you. But this… this was more than you had ever anticipated.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you admitted, your voice breaking slightly.

“You can,” he said firmly, his lips brushing against your forehead. “And you will. Together, we will be unstoppable.”

For a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into his embrace, your mind a storm of doubt and confusion. Whether it was fate or folly, you couldn’t yet say. But in that moment, as his arms tightened around you and his whispers filled the silence, it felt as though you had no choice at all.

You stood frozen as Maegor’s words hung in the air, the mention of your mother, making your chest tighten. You did respect her—more than anyone. She was the guiding force of your life, her word as close to law as the Seven themselves. Refusing her was unthinkable. Maegor knew this, and the faint smirk on his face revealed he was fully aware of how deeply her influence bound you.

Maegor stepped closer, his fingers tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You will not refuse me,” he murmured, though there was no real question in his voice. “You would not dare defy mother’s wishes.” he murmured, his voice low and confident.

You glanced at him, lips parting as if to protest, but no words came out. He was right. You could already hear your mother’s voice in your head, her arguments laid out plainly, reminding you of duty and legacy.

Maegor stepped closer, his imposing frame towering over you. “You’ve always followed her commands,” he continued, his voice softening but losing none of its authority. “You’ve never failed her before. And this? This is what she wants.”

Your silence made him chuckle—a rare, low sound that startled you. He was so often stoic, cold even, but now there was something different in him. Something almost… warm.

He raised a hand, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “You think too much,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Just let it happen.”

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours. It was not the demanding kiss you might have expected from him—it was slow, careful, and deliberate, as if he had been waiting for this moment for years. His hands cupped your face, holding you gently but firmly, ensuring you couldn’t pull away even if you wanted to.

You froze, unsure of what to do. But as the kiss deepened, you felt yourself melting into it despite the swirl of thoughts in your mind. The warmth of his lips, the way his touch seemed to steady your trembling form—it was disarming.

When he finally pulled back, his violet eyes bore into yours, searching for any sign of rejection. But you remained silent, your breath uneven, your cheeks flushed.

“You see,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against your jawline. “It feels… right. Doesn’t it?”

You swallowed hard, unable to deny the strange pull you felt toward him. He had always been a part of your life, a figure of strength and dominance. And now, as he stood before you, so certain and unyielding, it was as if the world itself had conspired to place you in his arms.

“What if I’m not enough?” you whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. “What if I fail you, too?”

His expression softened, his hands moving to your shoulders. “You won’t,” he said firmly. “You are of the blood of the dragon. My equal. My match. Together, we’ll do what no one else has.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine as his words sank in. There was no escaping this—no denying what your mother had already decided for you, what Maegor had clearly longed for.

As he leaned in again, his lips brushing against yours in a way that made your knees weak, you realized that this was no longer just about duty or tradition. This was about Maegor’s unwavering belief in you, his determination to claim you as his own. And for the first time, you wondered if perhaps you didn’t mind being claimed.

Maegor’s hands gripped your waist as he effortlessly lifted you, settling you onto his lap as if you weighed nothing. The strength in his touch was undeniable, and yet there was something careful about the way he held you, as though you were the most precious thing he’d ever claimed.

Your hands instinctively wrapped around his neck, fingers tangling in the thick, silver strands of his hair. He pulled you closer, his lips pressing firmly against yours, deepening the kiss with an intensity that left you breathless. His confidence was overwhelming, but it was also intoxicating, pulling you further into his orbit.

You hesitated for only a moment before giving in, letting yourself lean into the kiss. When your lips finally began to move against his, Maegor let out a low hum of approval. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies.

He pulled back just enough to breathe, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke, his voice low and laced with amusement. “There she is,” he murmured, his smirk unmistakable. “I knew you wouldn’t resist me for long.”

Your breath hitched at his words, the weight of them sinking into your chest. He leaned in again, his lips ghosting over your jawline, trailing down to the curve of your neck. You gasped as his teeth grazed your skin, his tongue quickly soothing the spot he’d bitten.

“Maegor…” you whispered, unsure whether it was meant as a plea or a protest.

He chuckled against your neck, his hands roaming over the curve of your hips. “Say my name again,” he commanded softly, his tone sending shivers down your spine.

You hesitated, but when he nipped at your skin again, a quiet, breathless “Maegor” escaped your lips. He growled in approval, his grip on you tightening as he kissed his way back to your lips.

“You’re mine,” he said against your mouth, his tone firm and unyielding. “Do you understand that?”

You nodded, your mind spinning as his words and actions consumed you. His hands moved back to your waist, holding you steady as he pressed you closer to him.

“You’re the only one who can give me what I want,” he continued, his lips brushing against yours with every word. “A son. A true heir. And I’ll make sure of it.”

His words should have frightened you, but instead, they filled you with a strange sense of purpose—a feeling that you belonged here, with him. When his lips met yours again, you found yourself kissing him back with a fervor that matched his own, your hands tightening in his hair as the room around you seemed to fade away.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “You’ll see. This is where you were always meant to be—by my side, as my queen.”

And for the first time, you didn’t feel the urge to argue. Instead, you leaned into him, letting his words wash over you as you surrendered to the fire that burned between you.

Maegor’s hands were rough as they slid up your back, pulling your nightgown up and over your head in one swift motion. The cool air of the room brushed against your skin, but it was quickly replaced by the heat of his touch. His eyes darkened as they roamed over you, his lips curling into a smirk before he leaned in to claim your lips once more.

This time, his kiss was hungrier, more demanding, as if he was staking his claim all over again. You responded with equal fervor, your fingers threading through his hair and pulling lightly, earning a low growl from deep in his chest.

“You’re playing with fire,” he murmured against your lips, his voice laced with warning and amusement.

You smirked in return, rolling your hips slightly against his lap. The way his body reacted to you—his sharp intake of breath, the way his grip on your hips tightened—only emboldened you further. “Maybe I like the flames,” you whispered, your tone teasing as you brushed your lips against his again.

His laughter was low and dangerous, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. “Careful,” he said, his voice a soft growl. “You keep pushing me, and I won’t be able to hold back.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to,” you replied, your tone filled with challenge.

That was all the permission he needed. With a swift motion, he shifted, pinning you beneath him on the bed. His hands framed your face as he kissed you deeply, his body pressing against yours with an intensity that left you breathless.

“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he said as he pulled back slightly, his gaze locking onto yours. “But don’t think I’ll stop once I start. You’re mine, and I’ll make sure you never forget it.”

You gasped as his lips found your neck, trailing heated kisses along your skin. His hands explored your body with a mixture of gentleness and possession, leaving no doubt in your mind that he meant every word he said.

“Maegor…” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you arched beneath him.

Hearing his name from your lips only seemed to spur him on. His lips curled into a smirk against your skin as he moved lower, his hands sliding to grip your hips. “Say it again,” he commanded softly, his voice filled with raw desire.

“Maegor,” you repeated, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He growled in satisfaction, his grip tightening as he began to guide your movements against him. The fire in his eyes was unmistakable as he watched your every reaction, his own control slipping with every passing moment.

“You wanted this,” he said, his tone low and dangerous as he leaned closer. “And now you’re going to take everything I give you.”

And as his words sank in, you realized there was no going back—not that you wanted to. You surrendered to him completely, letting him pull you deeper into the flames as the night stretched on.

Maegor’s eyes burned with intensity as he discarded his trousers, his movements deliberate and unhurried. You couldn’t help but smirk, shifting your hips slightly to tease him. The way his jaw tightened and his nostrils flared only encouraged you further, knowing you were testing the limits of his control.

“You think this is a game?” he asked, his voice low and rough as he stepped closer.

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Why, brother, I have no idea what you mean.”

He growled, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “You’ll regret that,” he said, his tone a dangerous promise.

Before you could respond, his hands were on your hips, pulling you toward him with a force that made you gasp. In one swift, decisive motion, he buried himself within you, tearing a cry from your lips as pain and pleasure collided.

Your hands clutched at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you struggled to adjust. “Maegor!” you cried out, your voice trembling.

He laughed softly, the sound dark and laced with satisfaction. “Does it hurt, little dragon?” he murmured, brushing his lips against your ear. “Good. You’ll remember this moment every time you think you can defy me.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as your body stretched to accommodate him, the sensation overwhelming and unfamiliar. “You’re… you’re too much,” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He grab your cheek, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You’ll take all of me,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You were made for this—for me.”

You whimpered as he began to move, each thrust sending a new wave of sensation through your body. The initial pain began to fade, replaced by a heat that spread through your veins like wildfire.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice filled with both admiration and possession. “So beautiful, even when you’re trembling beneath me.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, but you couldn’t deny the way they made your heart race. Despite his roughness, there was a strange sense of care in the way he touched you, as though he was staking his claim but also ensuring you wouldn’t break beneath him.

As the rhythm of his movements increased, your cries turned into soft moans, your body slowly surrendering to the intensity of the moment. “Maegor…” you whispered, your voice shaky but filled with need.

He smirked, leaning down to capture your lips in a fierce kiss. “That’s it,” he murmured against your mouth. “Say my name again.”

“Maegor,” you repeated, your voice louder this time, filled with both pain and pleasure.

His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he thrust deeper. “You’ll learn to love this,” he said, his tone both commanding and soothing. “And soon, you’ll crave it as much as I do.”

You could only nod, your body and mind completely consumed by him. In that moment, there was nothing else—just the two of you, bound together in a way that felt both terrifying and inevitable.

Maegor’s heavy, calloused hands pinned your wrists above your head, his grip firm but not painful. His towering form loomed over you, his silver hair falling into his face as he gazed down at you with a mixture of triumph and hunger. You had always been the one to tease, the one to provoke—but now, under him, you were at his mercy.

“You’ve always been so bold,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. “Always looking for my attention, always testing me.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words turned into a gasp as his hips moved, a sharp thrust that left you breathless. Your body arched instinctively, pressing closer to him as he continued his relentless pace.

“Look at you now,” he said, his tone laced with dark amusement. “So quiet. Has the little dragon finally met her match?”

Your cheeks burned at his teasing, but you couldn’t form a coherent reply. Every movement, every thrust, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, making it impossible to think clearly.

“Maegor…” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling.

He smirked, leaning down until his face was just inches from yours. “Say it louder,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for defiance.

“Maegor,” you repeated, your voice cracking as he drove deeper, his movements precise and unyielding.

“That’s better,” he said, his smirk widening. “You look beautiful like this, you know. Completely mine.”

You tried to squirm beneath him, your body desperate for some sort of release, but his strength kept you firmly in place. His hands tightened around your wrists as he held them above your head, his grip a reminder of just how powerless you were in his grasp.

“You’ve always thought you were in control,” he continued, his voice low and dangerous. “But here, like this, you belong to me.”

His words sent a thrill through you, even as you tried to deny the effect they had on you. “You’re insufferable,” you muttered, though your voice lacked any real conviction.

Maegor chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “And yet, you can’t get enough of me.”

Before you could respond, he shifted his weight slightly, angling his hips in a way that had you crying out his name again. The sound only seemed to spur him on, his movements becoming rougher, more deliberate.

“You drive me mad,” he admitted, his voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breaths. “But I’ll make sure you never forget who you belong to.”

His free hand trailed down your side, his fingers brushing over your skin in a way that made you shiver. “Every inch of you,” he said, his voice filled with a dark promise. “Every sound you make, every breath you take—it’s all mine.”

You couldn’t argue with him, not when your body was betraying you so completely. Instead, you surrendered to the overwhelming sensations, letting Maegor claim you in every way he desired. And as his laughter echoed in your ears, you knew there would be no going back.

Maegor’s relentless pace left your mind spinning, every sharp thrust erasing any coherent thought from your head. The world around you blurred, and all that remained was the man above you—his weight, his heat, and the overwhelming power of his movements.

“Maegor…” you whimpered, your voice breaking as you clung to him, your nails digging into his broad shoulders.

“Say it louder,” he demanded, his tone a deep growl as his piercing gaze locked onto yours. His face was a mix of smug satisfaction and raw intensity, his silver hair damp with sweat as it clung to his forehead.

You cried out his name again, louder this time, unable to stop yourself as he buried himself deeper, the force of his thrusts stealing the breath from your lungs. Maegor grinned, his lips curling into a dark smirk as he watched you unravel beneath him.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice thick with pride and something darker. “Completely at my mercy. Does it drive you mad, little dragon? Knowing that no one else could ever ruin you like this?”

Your only response was a strangled moan as your body arched into his, seeking more of him despite the overwhelming intensity. Maegor leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he growled, “You’re mine, now and always. Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped, your voice trembling with a mixture of desperation and surrender.

“That’s right,” he purred, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. His hands gripped your waist tightly, holding you in place as he drove into you with even more force, drawing another scream from your lips.

“You feel so perfect,” he said, his tone softening just slightly, though the fire in his eyes never dimmed. “Like you were made for me. Tell me, little dragon—do you feel it too? That you were meant to be mine?”

You nodded frantically, unable to find the words as waves of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you trembling in his arms. Maegor chuckled darkly at your helplessness, his grip tightening on your hips as he pushed you closer to the edge.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck. “Lost in me, lost to me.”

As you cried out again, your body clinging to his in desperation, Maegor groaned, the sound low and primal as he felt your walls tighten around him. His pace faltered for just a moment before he drove into you one last time, his head falling to your shoulder as he growled your name.

The room was filled with the sounds of your labored breathing as the two of you came down from the heights of your passion. Maegor didn’t pull away immediately, instead leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your lips, his touch surprisingly tender after the intensity of his movements.

“You’re mine,” he whispered again, his voice soft but firm, as if sealing a promise. Maegor smirked, his confidence returning as he gazed down at you. “I’ve made my claim on you, little dragon. Don’t ever forget that.”

As you lay in his arms, your body still trembling from his touch, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of inevitability. You were his now, completely and utterly, and there was no going back.

Maegor’s strong hands gripped your waist tightly, holding you in place as he lifted you with ease and settled you on his lap. You gasped, your hands bracing against his broad shoulders for support, but before you could utter a word, his deep, commanding voice interrupted.

“If I am to have a son, little dragon,” he growled, his violet eyes dark and blazing with determination, “then I will not stop now.”

Your lips parted to protest, but the words never left your mouth. In one swift motion, Maegor thrust himself upward, pulling your hips down to meet him. The intensity of the movement made your head fall back as a loud cry escaped your lips. The sensation of him so deep, so overwhelming, was too much for your trembling body to process.

“Maegor!” you screamed, clutching onto his shoulders for dear life as he began to move, his pace relentless and unyielding.

“You can take it,” he said, his tone almost mocking, though there was an edge of possessiveness in his voice that sent shivers through you. “You were made for this—made for me.”

Your breathing came in short, desperate gasps as he guided your movements, his hands firmly holding your waist as he controlled the rhythm. The combination of his strength and the sheer intensity of his movements left you unable to do anything but follow his lead.

“Look at me,” he demanded, his voice low and commanding. When you didn’t respond, too lost in the sensation, he reached up and tilted your chin toward him, forcing you to meet his gaze. “I said, look at me.”

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his piercing violet stare. The raw hunger in his expression made your heart race even faster.

“There you are,” he murmured, his tone softening ever so slightly. “I want to see that pretty face of yours when I give you what we both know you want.”

You whimpered in response, your hands gripping his shoulders even tighter as he pulled you down onto him again, deeper than before. The new angle sent shockwaves through your body, and you couldn’t stop the loud moan that escaped your lips.

“To much?” he asked, his smirk returning as he studied your reaction. “Or is it exactly what you need?”

“Maegor…” you whispered, your voice trembling as you struggled to catch your breath.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice a low rumble as he leaned forward, his lips brushing against your ear. “Say my name, little dragon. Say it so the gods themselves hear you.”

You obeyed, crying out his name over and over as he continued to guide your movements, his strength and determination leaving you completely at his mercy. His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve as if claiming you all over again.

“You’re perfect,” he growled, his lips trailing down your neck. “Perfect for me. Perfect to bear my sons.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t hold back the way your body responded to him. Maegor chuckled darkly, clearly pleased by the effect he had on you.

As he quickened his pace, his movements became even more demanding, pushing you closer to the edge. Your cries grew louder, filling the room as he drove you higher and higher.

“Give it to me,” he commanded, his voice thick with need. “Give me everything.”

And with one final, powerful thrust, you shattered in his arms, your body trembling uncontrollably as waves of pleasure washed over you. Maegor followed shortly after, his grip on your waist tightening as he buried himself as deep as he could, a low, guttural groan escaping his lips.

As the two of you came down from the intensity of the moment, Maegor’s hold on you remained firm, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath.

“You’ll give me a son,” he murmured, his tone resolute. It wasn’t a question—it was a statement, one he believed with every fiber of his being.

You nodded weakly, still trembling in his arms as you leaned against his chest, too overwhelmed to respond with words. Maegor smirked, pressing a kiss to your temple as he tightened his embrace.

“This is only the beginning,” he promised, his voice filled with dark determination.

Maegor didn’t give you a moment to recover. His strength was overwhelming as he lifted you effortlessly, his hands gripping your thighs firmly, and carried you to the sturdy table in the center of the room. Before you could fully register what was happening, he placed you down with precision, positioning you exactly how he wanted.

“Did you think I was done with you, little dragon?” he asked, his voice a low, teasing growl.

You opened your mouth to respond, but all that came out was a sharp gasp as he buried himself inside you again in one swift, forceful motion. Your hands instinctively reached out, grasping the edges of the table for support as he set a punishing pace, his movements quick and unrelenting.

“Maegor!” you cried out, your voice echoing in the chamber, but your pleas only seemed to spur him on.

“Louder,” he demanded, his tone thick with authority. “Let everyone in the Keep know who you belong to.”

You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he leaned over you, his large frame completely dominating yours. The table creaked beneath the force of his movements, but you didn’t care. Your body burned, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, and yet you didn’t want him to stop.

Suddenly, Maegor’s hands gripped your waist, lifting you slightly before pushing you to lie flat against the table. Your gaze shifted, and that’s when you saw it—the large mirror across the room, perfectly angled to reflect the two of you.

Your cheeks flushed a deep crimson as you took in the sight. Your disheveled hair, your trembling body, and Maegor’s powerful figure towering over you, his muscles flexing with every movement. His face was a mixture of focus and satisfaction, his violet eyes locking with yours in the mirror.

“Look at us,” he said, his voice rough yet filled with pride. “See what we are.”

You whimpered, overwhelmed by the rawness of the moment. Your arms reached out, wrapping around his neck as you pulled him closer, hiding your face in his shoulder to escape the intensity of your own reflection.

“Oh no, little dragon,” he murmured, chuckling darkly as he lifted your chin with one hand, forcing you to meet his gaze in the mirror. “Don’t look away. Watch how perfectly you take me.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t stop the way your body reacted, arching into him as he continued his relentless pace. His free hand traveled to your hip, gripping it tightly as he adjusted the angle, drawing out even louder cries from you.

“Maegor, please…” you whispered, though you weren’t sure what you were begging for.

“Please what?” he asked, his tone mocking yet filled with hunger. “Tell me what you want.”

“I-I can’t,” you stammered, your voice trembling as he pushed you further and further toward your limit.

“You can,” he countered, his lips brushing against your ear. “You will.”

Your body trembled beneath him, your mind clouded with nothing but him—his touch, his voice, his presence. The sight of the two of you in the mirror only added to the overwhelming sensation, and you felt yourself nearing the edge once again.

“Say it,” Maegor demanded, his voice a low growl as he drove you closer and closer to the brink.

“I’m yours,” you finally gasped, your voice breaking as the words spilled from your lips. “I’m yours, Maegor.”

A triumphant smirk spread across his face as he slammed into you one final time, sending you spiraling over the edge. Your cries filled the room, your body shaking uncontrollably as you clung to him, your nails digging into his skin.

Maegor followed moments later, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself as deep as possible, a guttural groan escaping his lips. His forehead pressed against yours as he caught his breath, his hands gently stroking your sides as you lay sprawled on the table beneath him.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice softer now but no less commanding. “Always.”

You nodded weakly, your body too exhausted to respond with words. Maegor smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“And I’m not done with you yet,” he added, a mischievous glint in his eye as he lifted you once more, carrying you back toward the bed.

Maegor showed no mercy as he pressed your trembling body into the mattress, his large hands gripping your hips tightly while his movements remained unrelenting. You were sprawled out beneath him, barely able to catch your breath as he continued his punishing pace.

"Maegor… please…" you whispered weakly, your voice muffled by the soft fabric of the bedding.

"Please, what?" he asked with a mocking laugh, his tone dark and teasing as he leaned over you. His weight pressed you further into the bed, his breath hot against your ear. "Do you want me to stop?"

You knew he didn’t expect a reply—he already knew the answer. The smirk on his face widened as he felt you unconsciously arch your back, your body betraying you as it sought more of him despite the overwhelming sensations.

"That's what I thought," he growled, one hand slipping around your waist to pull you closer, making his thrusts even deeper. "You’re mine, little dragon. You’ll take everything I give you."

You could only whimper in response, your hands gripping the sheets tightly as your mind spiraled into a haze of pleasure and exhaustion. Every inch of your body felt consumed by him—by his strength, his dominance, and the sheer heat of his touch.

When you tried to lift your head, Maegor’s hand came to rest on the back of it, guiding you to stay down. "No, stay just like this," he ordered, his voice softer now but still firm. "You look perfect beneath me."

"Maegor…" you whispered again, your voice breaking as you tried to form coherent words.

"Say it," he demanded, his tone sharp yet filled with desire. "Say you're mine."

"I’m yours," you gasped, the words tumbling out without hesitation.

His deep chuckle rumbled through the room, and he rewarded your surrender with a sharp thrust that made you cry out his name. "That’s right," he murmured, his voice filled with pride. "You’ll never belong to anyone else."

Despite your exhaustion, you couldn’t help but shiver at the possessiveness in his tone. He leaned down further, his lips brushing against the back of your neck as his pace quickened once again.

"Look at you," Maegor muttered, his voice filled with admiration as his hands slid over your trembling form. "So beautiful. So perfect. You were made for me, weren’t you?"

You couldn’t respond—your voice was lost to the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. All you could do was grip the sheets tighter, your body giving in completely to his relentless claim.

When he finally reached his peak, his grip on your hips tightened, and he buried himself as deeply as possible to make sure that he's seed go deep in you, a guttural groan escaping his lips. The sheer intensity of the moment left you breathless, your body trembling as he collapsed beside you, his arm draped possessively over your waist.

"You’ll never escape me, little dragon," he murmured, his voice soft but laced with a promise. "Not now. Not ever."

You closed your eyes, your heart racing as you felt the warmth of his presence beside you. Despite everything, you couldn’t deny the way your body craved his touch, the way his words seemed to root themselves deep within your soul.

Maegor shifted his weight, rolling your trembling body to face him. His piercing gaze roamed over you—your flushed cheeks, disheveled hair, and quivering form. A smirk spread across his lips, a dark chuckle rumbling deep in his chest.

"Look at you," he said, his voice filled with both amusement and satisfaction. "Utterly spent, yet still so beautiful."

You tried to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you met his gaze. "Maegor…" you whispered, your voice barely audible, a mix of exhaustion and disbelief.

He leaned down, brushing his lips against yours with surprising tenderness. "You’re perfect like this," he murmured, his hand trailing down your side, sending shivers through your already sensitive body. "Made for me. And only me."

Just as you thought he would let you rest, he pulled back slightly, his smirk fading as his sharp eyes traveled lower. His expression darkened when he saw the evidence of his release dripping from your swollen cunt. A low growl escaped his throat, filled with frustration and possessiveness.

"No," he muttered, almost to himself. "I won’t have that."

Before you could process his words, he pressed you down firmly against the bed, his hands gripping your thighs to spread you open. You gasped, weakly reaching for him, but he didn’t give you a moment to protest.

"Maegor, wait—"

He didn’t. With a deliberate, forceful motion, he pushed his fingers inside you, his touch firm yet calculated. You cried out softly, your body jerking at the sudden intrusion.

"Be still," he ordered, his voice low but commanding. "I won’t have what’s mine dripping away so easily."

Your head fell back against the pillows, your body arching instinctively as he worked with a steady rhythm, pushing his release back into you. The sensation was overwhelming, sending a mix of pleasure and overstimulation coursing through your nerves.

"Maegor, I can’t…" you whimpered, your voice trailing off into a broken sob.

He leaned closer, his face hovering just above yours as his free hand cupped your cheek. "You can," he whispered, his tone surprisingly gentle despite the fire burning in his eyes. "And you will. You’ll take all of me, no matter how many times it takes."

Your breath hitched as his movements became slower, more deliberate, his gaze never leaving yours. "You’ll give me a son," he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. "I’ll make sure of it."

A tear slipped down your cheek, and Maegor leaned in to kiss it away, his lips lingering on your skin. "Don’t cry, little dragon," he said softly, his voice almost tender. "This is what you were meant for. To carry my blood. To give me what no other could."

His words, though harsh, carried an undeniable weight. You felt the heat of his possessiveness searing into your very being, leaving you no room to escape his claim.

When he finally pulled back, satisfied, he gathered your trembling form into his arms, holding you close. His hand rested protectively over your stomach, and he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead.

"You’ll see," he said quietly, his voice carrying an edge of certainty. "You’ll give me the legacy I deserve. And you’ll be the queen by my side when I do."

Exhausted and overwhelmed, you could only nod weakly, the gravity of his words settling deep within you as sleep began to overtake your tired body.

Tag List : @danytar @hangmanscoming @julessworldd @yazzzmints @callsignwidow @giirlinblack @searatarg @vaelry

#hotd imagine #hotd #hotd one shot #hotd x reader #hotd smut #maegor targaryen #maegor x reader #king maegor #maegor smut #maegor the cruel #house targaryen #house of the dragon

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arcielee · 11 months ago

Text

Fare Well

Photo credit.

Summary: You visit Aegon after another council meeting ends. Paring: Aegon Targaryen x female!reader Word Count: 1600+ Warnings: Reader AFAB, knifeplay, object penetration, kissing, p in v, creampie, using intercourse as an escape from reality. Author’s Note: Listen, the new trailer came out and our muses are buzzing again. This smutty piece was inspired by this story by @valeskafics as well as this beautiful edit by the beautiful @bucknastysbabe. The title is from Hozier, as you all should come to expect now, and this can also be read on ao3. This is dedicated to @f4ll-for-you, my wonderful Tumblr kindred spirit who made me into the Aegon girly I am today. 💜 A huge thank you to @targaryen-dynasty for beta reading and making sure this all made sense. 💜 Enjoy!

“What troubles you, your grace?”

You had remained in the shadows and listened to the voices grow louder, though still muted through the walls, with their worries of what was to come next. They exited one by one, the morose men chosen to serve the king’s council, with the lord commander of the kingsguard escorting the queen dowager donned in green, her eyes downcast and her expression etched with her perpetual worry since her lord husband had passed. The lord hand was the last to leave, his face lined and wearied, his slow gate returning him to the tower where he would–as Aegon confided to you–continue to pen letters to garner support across the realm.

It was only then that you dared to enter the room. You saw Aegon was seated at the head of the table, his violet gaze placed on the Valyrian dagger in his hands, the iron and rubies that once belonged to the Conqueror gleaming above him.

The sun was streaking through the windows behind, giving him a kingly glow. His hair was a shade lighter and his cheeks sunkissed from the hours aback Sunfyre; despite the threat beyond the horizon, you knew that Aegon enjoyed patrolling the skies with his brothers.

It was these little confessions that he shared with you in the clandestine moments stolen within the walls of the Red Keep. He told you how he wished to be distracted, to allow a reprieve for his mind that weighed heavy with this anointed crown, and you were just this distraction, flesh and blood pulsing with your desire.

It was then he looked up to see you still shyly posted in the doorway. “You seemed troubled, your grace,” you repeated with kindness, with concern.

“I am now always troubled, it feels,” his smile was forced. “It seems to be something that comes with the weight of this.” He removed the crown and it echoed dully as he dropped it on the table. “But perhaps you can serve your king.”

Your foot pushed the door until it closed soundly, and you took a step towards him. For a moment you saw the boy you had grown up with, mischievous and smirking, peering up at you from beneath the title of king. “This is why I am here,” your reply was sultry, and you saw how the black began to swallow the color of his eyes. “To serve, your grace.”

Aegon sheathed the dagger and set it aside his crown before slouching back to spread his legs wider in the ornate chair he sat. Your stomach tightened at the sight of his thick outline against his thigh, pressing through his slacks, and you felt the flutter of that desire trilling your spine, spilling back into your veins.

Your heart vibrated beneath and his lips curled upwards when he noticed where your eyes fell. His large hand patted his thigh.

The gesture summoned you and you moved within his arms reach. He pulled you onto his lap, his face burying into the curve of your neck with a groan, a deep inhale that tickled. “Your grace,” you giggled, squirming in his hold, your blood warming your skin.

“It is only us now,” he murmured against your skin, “and all I wish now is to tear away these layers, lay you on this table, and have what lies beneath your finery.”

“You would not dare,” you whispered, your eyes bright.

His fingers dug into your hip while his other hand snaked under your thighs to lift you up from his seat. You giggled again, your arm quick to wrap around his neck to brace for his step forward as he set you on the edge of the table. His hands pawed at your layers, searching to find the dagger and he began to slice through your fabric.

Your surprise spilled from your lips. “Aegon!”

He did not falter, but sheathed it and set it back down so his hands could grab fistfuls, tearing away the fabric to allow you room to part your thighs and welcome him. Your hands moved from his chest and combed through his hair, smoothing the indent left behind from his crown. He hummed from your touch, his hands moving from your hips and following your curves to your backside, pulling you closer so he could tilt his chin forward and capture your lips.

His kiss devoured you wholly, pulling the air from your lungs with the dizzyingly desperation of his lips against your own. Your arms wrapped again around his neck and you rolled your hips for friction against the warmth he emitted through his royal garb, your fingers clawing at the fabric.

You could feel his smile against your lips, his fingers returning to his hold on your hips. The outside of his palm rested on the dip and his thumbs pressed to the bone, eliciting a pleasure that jolted through you. You moaned softly and his mouth broke away, wet kisses that now trailed along your jaw, his teeth nipping at the slope of your neck.

“Aegon,” you could not help but whine, and you tightened your legs around his hips.

He turned to look at you, his expression unreadable, flushed. For a moment you were lost in his heady gaze, only brought back once you felt his hand trailing the detailing of your bodice and pressing until you laid back on the table. His other hand retrieved the dagger once more and your smallclothes were cut away, the air crisp against the slick between your thighs.

“So wet for me already,” he clucked his tongue, “and I have barely begun.”

Your stuttered response only further goaded him. His brow cocked. “What was that?”

“Please,” you licked your lips. “Touch me, Aegon. Please.”

The darkness in his eyes glittered with the sunlight, and his satisfaction curled across his square jaw. “No. Not quite yet.”

Before you could protest, you felt the pressure of something that was smooth, almost cool to the touch. You peered down to see the sheathed dagger pressed sideways to your bare cunt, the ruby stone sliding against the slick, the blossom of your arousal allowing him a circular motion of the gemstone against the bundle of nerves.

You shuddered in response, your skin rising on your thighs and chest, and your head fell back, your hands pressing flat on the polished wood to anchor yourself. The unfamiliar touch began to build a familiar sensation, something that fluttered throughout, catching your exhale in your throat.

“Aegon,” you cried, his name spilling sickly sweet from your lips, an endearment with the desperation of your tone.

“Let me,” he soothed, his voice rasped with his intent focus.

He moved the hilt and its decorative ridges rubbed along your swollen nerves. You squealed with the touch and then the intrusion, feeling his palm press to the inside of your thigh. “Trust me,” he whispered, his eyes boring between your thighs. You relaxed to his touch, feeling the curve of the handle pressing sweetly within you.

It sparked lights before your eyes and Aegon was pleased. He moved his thumb to replace where the gemstone rubbed enticingly before, matching the tandem of the hilt that now pulled you upwards to the prior peak and then past. It filled your chest, a bursting euphoria that pulsed your walls around the handle.

“Sȳz riña,” his voice low with his praise. Good girl.

Your head lifted, drowsy, and you saw him touch the glossy shine that now covered the hilt, his fingers showing the sticky web of your climax. His eyes met with yours as he showed you, and his eyebrows raised when you pushed to sit up, your hand gently covering his own to pull it towards your lips, licking the ruby and tasting yourself.

It clattered to the cobblestone and his free hand now grabbed the nape of your neck, his lips finding yours with his returned desperation. Fingers collided to loosen his drawstrings, your hands pulling his cock free and guiding his blunt head to press against your silk entrance.

His large hand wrapped around the base and you cant your hips, angling yourself so his cock can slowly sink into your wet warmth. You mewled from the delicious stretch and he shuddered once he was fully buried between your thighs. Aegon paused, stealing a kiss, a taste of tenderness on his lips as he began to rock against you.

It started slow with a low groan spilling from his kiss swollen slips as he watched his cock disappear inside you again and again. He savored the lewd sounds, your soft cries as he pushed deeper within you, your fingers grasping to hold yourself upright, to remain as close to him as possible.

Your body still simmered with your prior release and it did not take much to build again. His hips snapped against yours with the wet sound of skin to skin, and your walls began to flutter. It is a breathless chorus, your soft gasps and his low groan, your pleasure pulling with a creamy spill of passion that tightened around him, his cock pulsing hotly within you.

You fell back to your elbows, trying to catch your breath, and Aegon slumped over, his damp brow pressing to yours, the mess of his golden waves falling across your face. His scent washed over you, exotic oils that were sent as gifts and the sheen of sweat on his skin.

The council chambers are noiseless now, and you hold still under the dimming candles lit for the chandelier above. It is another clandestine moment stolen, where your hearts thrummed in unison before slowing back to their regular pace, pulling you back to the heavy reality that settled in the quiet.

It lingered in the shadows, the faraway thought, the threat beyond the horizon, the echoed worries returning of what will come next.

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#house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen #aegon x you #aegon x reader #aegon x female!reader #aegon ii fanfic #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you #female!reader #fare well

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atlabeth · 4 months ago

Text

howling at wolves

pairing: jaime lannister x fem reader

summary: jaime saves you from a wayward knight. a strange friendship forms in the ashes.

a/n: ive lost the plot chat why am i writing jaime lannister fic

wc: 2.7k

warning(s): sexual harassment/assault

“I truly have no idea how you do it,” Sansa says.

You smile as you finish her final braid. “Many years spent braiding the hair of my peers, my lady. You are a much easier subject than any of them.”

She smiles. You love when she smiles—makes her look her age, rather than the ‘beyond her years’ that is so often expected of her. “Well, you’re much better than my mother, at least. She’d have tugged half my hair out trying to do anything like you.”

“I imagine your mother is trying to gather up the rest of your siblings,” you say wryly. “She wants you all on best behavior for the king.”

“Probably trying to get the boys to stop chasing each other around and straighten themselves out,” Sansa says with a sigh. “Arya, too. She’s always up to something.”

You chuckle as you put the clasp together on her necklace, then ensure it lays properly before you step away. “I believe that is the final touch. What do you think?”

“You’re excellent as always,” she says, her smile growing. She reaches up to touch the pendant as she looks at herself in the mirror. “Have you met the king before?”

“I have, both before and after he took the throne,” you say. “And in my youth, I met King Aerys.”

Sansa turns, her eyes widening in surprise. “You met the Mad King?”

You nod. “You’re aware of how I came to serve your family, correct?”

“My grandfather housed you in return for your service,” she recalls. “Weren’t you my age?”

“Twelve,” you correct. “I met the king at a tourney in Harrenhal, when I was Lady Lyanna’s handmaiden.” Your heart twists at your own mention of her, and you sigh. “Gods rest her soul.”

Her lips press into a terse line, but she cannot hide the sadness in her eyes. You think all Starks carry an innate weariness in them, whether they know it or not—genetic strain from such untimely deaths.

“Were you in King’s Landing when my grandfather and uncle were…?” Sansa trails off, but her unsaid words weigh heavily in the air.

“Let us stop talking of such a morose subject, hm?” For her sake, you attempt to switch the topic. “You ought to meet up with the rest of your siblings. Ensure your mother doesn’t go too insane.”

Sansa chuckles at that, and she allows you to put on her extra layer of coats and furs. “I hope all goes well. I know they’re only visiting because of Jon Arryn’s death, but I’ve heard the king’s eldest son is quite handsome.”

“I suppose we shall see,” you say. “Now, run along, my dear. Before your mother starts yelling for you.”

She smiles and nods gratefully, pulling her coat tighter around her as she walks out. You watch her go with a sigh—if King Robert’s son is anything like him, you don’t want Sansa anywhere near him. But it is hardly your decision to make.

You clean up Sansa’s room and put on your own coat—you have Northern blood in your veins, but your hardiness only goes so far—then take your own leave.

The procession comes through smooth enough.

King Robert Baratheon is older and rounder than you remember, more crude than you think a king should be. He compliments Sansa, and you would be proud if you were not foremost disgusted.

Queen Cersei Lannister has sharp, inquisitive eyes, and they scan over everything as she gets out of the carriage. You shift under her gaze for the moment it passes over you, however small.

The queen’s brother, Jaime Lannister, well armored in plated gold, rides in with the last of the knights. He pulls his helmet off and shakes out his blonde hair.

When he was knighted as the youngest kingsguard, you had just begun to serve the Starks. What a difference being born into a noble house made.

You think the last time you were in their collective presence was that tourney in Harrenhal, when the Targaryen prince disgraced his bride by crowning Lyanna Stark.

Your jaw tenses. When you think of it, that tourney may have been the last moment of normalcy in your life. Nothing was the same after Rickard and Brandon were executed.

Even less so after you watched your lady die in her brother’s arms.

Everything else passes in a blur. Soon enough you’re back in the castle.

You hardly pay attention as you walk through the halls. With the arrival of King Robert, his family, the kingsguard and so many others, the entirety of the serving staff is working overtime to make things run smoothly. Your primary focus is Sansa, yes, but when she is with her family, you are just another maid.

As you’ve been working with the Starks for the past decade and a half, you have a decent idea by now of how things should go.

“What are you in such a hurry for?”

Which means you also know by now that this nuisance of a knight seems to have no plans of leaving you alone. He’s been intruding on your peace for the past month, only when you’re alone—likely knows that if Sansa caught word of it, she would get her father involved—and you thought he would have taken the hint by now.

You make no move to acknowledge the voice, only the clench of your jaw indicating you’ve heard him as you continue on your way.

“Even a broad like you’s got to know it’s rude to ignore someone,” he calls out. “Whatever you’re doing can’t be that important.”

You stay silent still. Typically, he shouts a few crude things at you, insinuates what he’d like to do, then leaves you alone. Today, though—

A hand encircles your wrist and you whip around on instinct, fire already blazing in your eyes as he leers at you.

“Are you deaf?” he asks. “Or just insolent?”

“Let go of me,” you spit.

“Insolent,” he decides. You try to tug your arm away, but his grip only tightens. “And not very good with questions.”

An involuntary gasp shudders out of you as he pushes you against the wall, his forearm pressed against your chest to keep you caged in, and you glare daggers at the man.

“I thought the Starks employed better men than this,” you growl. “What do you want?”

“There are those lovely eyes,” he mocks, ignoring your jab. “What about a smile? I bet it’s just as good.”

You try to pull away again, but he catches your wrists and pins them against the wall. The pressure off your chest is a relief quickly dashed by the look in his eyes. Your resistance is a joke to him, just simply part of the chase.

“I’m sure I can get one out of you soon,” the knight amends.

He kisses you. It’s nothing romantic, just a purely possessive clash of teeth as he tries to claim something he has no right to take. You fight against him all the while but it does you no good—it’s like the past month hasn’t been enough for him, like he has to make up for all the ways you’ve disrespected him.

“Now just what is going on here?”

He pulls away from you at the sound of the voice and you’ve never wanted to melt into yourself more. Your face burns—you’re angry at this wretch of a knight and you’re embarrassed that someone else witnessed your shame.

“Nothing you need to be concerned with,” the knight says. “This is Stark business—no concern for you Lannisters.”

Lannister?

You look over at your—gods hope it—savior, and your eyes widen despite yourself.

Jaime Lannister, brother of the queen and member of the kingsguard and the Kingslayer himself, stands with his hand just above his sheathed sword and the slight smile that seems to be a permanent facet of his appearance.

“Really?” His eyebrows rise. “Because to me, it looks like you’re in the midst of assaulting this poor woman.”

“What do you care?” the knight snarls. “She’s just a maid—you can find a dozen anywhere you look.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to defile this one against her will,” Jaime says.

“Who says it’s against her will?” He glances back at you, his wandering eyes making your skin crawl. “Look at her. She’s practically begging for it.”

“I would bash your skull in if I could,” you spit.

He laughs as he turns to Jaime. “See? She’s feisty—she enjoys having someone to tussle with.”

“I’ve never bashed a skull in before,” Jaime says thoughtfully, “but I’d imagine it would be quite grisly.” He smiles disarmingly at the knight. “Would you like to be my first, Ser…?”

The man’s grin twists into a scowl. “You’re really protecting this whore?”

“If it’s a whore you want, go peruse a brothel.” Jaime’s smile remains, though it’s lost its mirth. “You can find a dozen anywhere you look.”

Jaime and the knight stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, before he eventually steps away from you with a sharp laugh. You can’t disguise the relief that floods through your body at the distance.

He shakes his head as he begins to walk off. “You choose the funniest fights, Kingslayer.”

You watch him go, still pressed up against the wall until he’s fully out of sight. You let out a shaky breath as you lean your head back.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “I thought he would get to…”

“No need to linger on what could’ve happened,” Jaime says. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head. “You stopped him before the worst. I’ll have some bruises, but better that than anything more permanent.”

“Were we in King’s Landing, he could’ve gotten a more appropriate punishment,” he says. “But I don’t think your Lord Stark would appreciate me mutilating his men before we’ve even made it through the night.” Jaime smiles. “A knight without hands would be nothing but sword fodder.”

“I pity the poor girl who gets stuck with him if he ends up at a brothel,” you murmur.

“She knows what she’s in for,” he says.

“That doesn’t make it better.”

Jaime stays silent at that, and you look over at him.

“What are you even doing here?” you can’t help but ask. “Surely you have more important duties than strolling through our halls.”

“I just had to find my brother in a brothel,” he says. “I thought some peace and quiet would do me good before whatever mess awaits me when my family is together.”

“Why did you save me?” Another question you can’t keep inside. “You’re a Kingsguard—a Lannister at that. I serve the Starks, and I am no king.”

“I like to believe I am a decent man beneath it all,” he says. “I would not be much of one had I let that brute have his way with you, Stark or not.”

A chill runs down your spine at his words. Having it spoken aloud by another makes it all disgustingly real. You still feel the heat of his hands on your body, and your lips all but fester from his forced kisses.

“I am surprised you care,” you murmur. “Most men would have turned a blind eye.”

“Most men care little for things that do not concern them.”

“And this concerns you?”

He shrugs. “Would you rather I let him continue?”

“No,” you say immediately. “I… I owe you my thanks, my lord. Immensely.”

He huffs a laugh at that. “My lord. I cannot recall the last time someone called me that.”

In your silence, he chuckles. “Ser Jaime is more than enough. I’m certainly not your lord.”

You bow your head. “Then I thank you, Ser Jaime.”

“And I wholly accept.” He pauses, then focuses back on you. “I never got your name.”

“I never gave it,” you say.

Jaime gives you a cockeyed grin. “I would like to have it, then. If you’d allow.”

“Why?”

“It isn’t every day you save a fair maiden,” he says. “I’d like to know who gave me the pleasure.”

“You are a knight,” you say. “Is it not your duty to save damsels in distress?”

“Among other things.” Jaime inclines his head. “Though it tends to be more kings in distress, and believe me, my lady—those I have served could not be considered fair nor a damsel.”

“I imagine not,” you say placidly. “You are the Kingslayer, after all.”

He winces. “And our conversation was going so well.”

You arch a brow. “It is the truth, is it not?”

“Just because it is the truth does not mean it must be brought up in every conversation I have,” he says.

“...You are right,” you admit. “You saved me from a fate none too kind. I should not bring up the past in return.”

Jaime blinks. For a moment, he seems to have nothing to say.

You cannot help the slightly wry smile that curves on your lips. “Surprised, Ser Jaime?”

He recovers quickly, that own sly smile back as if it never disappeared. “Never. It’s just that those at court typically do not lay off so easily.”

“I am not technically a part of court,” you say. “Perhaps that is it.”

“Perhaps,” he agrees. “You should consider yourself lucky you’ve managed to keep any courtly claws out of your skin. I’d wager it would make you far less pleasant.”

“How, pray tell, do you know I am pleasant?” you ask. “You just arrived in Winterfell.”

“You didn’t kill that man for what he did to you,” he says.

“Had I the ability, I would have,” you say. “Chop off those wandering hands, gouge out his lecherous eyes—”

“Perhaps you are not pleasant,” he interrupts, and your lips twitch despite yourself. “But you are interesting, and that is much better.”

“I’m a servant of House Stark,” you say. “There is nothing beyond that.”

Jaime shakes his head. “I don’t think so. I’ve actually noticed you, for one.”

“Then I’m a rather shoddy servant. We’re not meant to be noticed.”

“It was rather hard to miss you.”

A chill runs across your skin as you glance down the hallway—you can still feel it all.

“Men do not like to lose out on their conquests,” you say quietly. “He may be back with a vengeance.”

“Then I suppose I’ll just have to keep an eye out while we’re here,” Jaime says.

You turn back to him with a frown. “Why?”

“To stop his quest of vengeance,” he says. “It would be rather useless of me to save you once and then abandon you to the wolves.”

“I’ve always found comfort in wolves,” you say. “The Starks saved me long ago.”

“And today, a lion saved you,” Jaime says.

“And I thanked you for it.” You cross your arms. “Need I repeat myself again?”

He shrugs. “It certainly doesn’t hurt.”

You huff at that, only just managing to bite back the slightest of smiles. “I see your ego is as big as your blade.”

“As is the Lannister way.” Jaime glances past you out the window, and he offers a charming smile. “I’m afraid I must take my leave, my lady. Duty calls.”

“As does mine.” You blow out a loose breath and shake your head. “This whole debacle has thrown my entire day out of order. The other maids must be wondering where I am, and Vayon will have my head if I am any more late.”

“I’ll be sure to keep an eye out during our stay,” he says. “Prevent any other unseemly escapades.”

“I’m not sure I want more of your attention,” you say. “You Lannisters bring nothing but trouble.”

“I just saved you a bit of trouble,” he corrects. “But if you’d like some to make up for it, I am more than happy to supply.”

“What happened to ‘duty calls’?” you ask wryly.

“What happened to your steward having your head?” Jaime responds in turn.

Again, your lips twitch despite yourself. “Goodbye, Ser Jaime.”

As he watches you go, a softer smile of his own forms.

It’s only when you disappear around the corner that he realizes he never got your name.

#jaime lannister x reader #jaime lannister x you #jaime lannister fic #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones x you #got x reader #game of thrones fic

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sc0tters · 1 year ago

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Wildest Dreams | Luke Hughes

summary: as the biggest test comes for you and Luke you begin to realise that maybe he was only ever meant to be a dream.

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, oral (fem receiving!), swearing.

word count: 3.5k

authors note: this is the piece that you guys actually picked for us to write about this week! to the nonnie that actually suggested this I hope I did the request justice and I absolutely loved writing this, like hands down favourite of the year. I tried to incorporate a bit of everything because the votes for how this one should go were so divided to! Whilst this is a part two fic you don’t have to read the first instalment before however it is advised for context!

pt 1

Luke was your best kept secret.

The light shone through the half drawn curtains as it made you groan “where I am?” You grumbled as you blew by to pull your duvet over your face and instead pulled a blanket over you. You looked around finally noticing the pictures on the wall and the hockey gear scattered on the floor, you were in Luke’s room.

As you went to get out of bed the door opened “you’re awake.” Luke smiled seeing the sight of you in his sweater “how are you feeling?” He asked handing you an Advil and a bottle of water “did I kiss you last night?” You didn’t know if that was a dream or not and part of you was terrified to hear the truth.

Luke winced as he thought you had regretted it making him weary of sitting next to you “I know I shouldn’t have kissed you but I just realized that if I didn’t do it then I really never-” you cut him off as you hooked your fingers under his chin as you pecked his lips making him go quiet.

He brought his hand to your hair as he tugged as the hair on the nape of your neck “woah.” Luke mumbled as he stared at you “meant it if I said I liked you.” Again you were unsure of if you had said it to him “that makes two of us.” The hockey player nodded in agreement as he ran his hand over your thigh.

The boy did everything in his power to make sure he kept his cool “what do we do about Jack?” He asked suddenly feeling the image of his brother appear in his mind “we can tell him when it feels right.” You grabbed his hand as you sighed “and if he isn’t happy we can reevaluate then.” You cringed knowing that Jack had always been protective of you, this was never going to end well “hope to give you the world pretty girl.” He mumbled as he went to kiss your lips again, pushing the worries out of your mind.

That was over three months ago and you swore you never intended for it to stay like this for that long. But as Luke moved to New Jersey and you found yourself landing a job in LA it only felt right to keep things light hearted. Sure there was a silent agreement that you guys had met a level of exclusivity where you were no longer sleeping with other people. You tried to say that Luke didn’t have time for another girl with the addition to being an NHL player, hell he barely had time for you. Even as the texts came at the most random hours you still ever found yourself growing irritated because you truly did find yourself falling in love with Luke.

Now the biggest test for you two had come and it was at the lake house. Two whole weeks of you in nothing more than you in shorts and your bikini was bound to be torture for Luke. The fact that you couldn’t have Jack finding out about you guys either only made Luke’s desires for you increase tenfold.

To top it all off Luke had to listen Cole and Trevor talk about how you were as hot as you had ever been. That’s how the youngest Hughes boy ended up sat on your bed as you were in the shower leaving the rest of the boys on the boat “what happened to going with the boys?” You were surprised that he was home “wanted to see you.” The innocence of his words made your cheeks feel warm as you ran your towel over your wet hair.

Luke patted his shorts as he motioned to sit with him “couldn’t listen to him talk about you anymore.” His finger ran over the edge of the red satin robe that was pressed against your body “didn’t know you could get jealous.” You teased letting out a laugh as it made him press his finger harder into you.

His gaze sharpened as he scoffed “why would I need to care when you’re on my lap, not his?” Luke grumbled as he pinched at your hip “think it’s cute you care.” You rolled your eyes as you caught your lower lip in your teeth.

The boy smiled as he sighed “glad you think that.” Luke rolled his eyes as he brought his hand to your cheek. It was killing him how you established a stupid rule that meant he couldn’t touch you over the time at the lake house.

You figured that it would make things easier for you if you weren’t worrying about the inevitable hickies that Luke would leave on you “fuck you look so kissable right now.” Luke groaned as his throat went dry staring at your lips “Luke we can’t.” You warned going to get off of him as his grip on your thigh tightened.

Desire roamed his mind as the only thing that he wanted was you “the boys are out baby.” The boy complained as he pulled you onto his lap properly “they won’t know a thing.” He added pecking your lips.

But as you fought the sexual frustration that built in your body you couldn’t help but sigh “we shouldn’t.” You mumbled as you pulled away “baby please I can be quick!” His huff made you laugh “Hughesy thinks he could really get me off that fast?” You teased only going quiet as you were flipped over.

Luke hovered over you as he glared “I know you like the back of my fucking hand pretty girl.” That was the truth, over the last few months even if there was one you two actually spent together Luke knew the was to make you squirm. So much so that once he moved to the garden state he knew how to get you off by the mere sound of his voice. Whilst Jack was teasing Luke about the mystery girl that let moans roll off of his bedroom walls.

A gulp caught in your throat as his hand pulled at the ribbon on you robe letting the fabric hit your sides. Luke loved how your eyes grew full as you went silent “not so tough when you’re on the bottom now are you?” He smirked running his finger over your body “fuck Luke.” You whined as your skin grew warm in wake of his touch.

But you were never going to have it that easy “what about your rules?” There was this set of about four or five that you had in the hopes that it would make you keep your hands to yourself and the sexual frustrations to a minimal. You rolled your eyes “fuck my damn rules too.” You grumbled making him laugh.

Luke finally found himself getting what he wanted as he kissed you. No longer was it one of emotion but instead was full of lust as it sucked the oxygen out of the room “Luke.” You gasped feeling his lips move to your jaw and he continued peppering soft kisses on your body all the way until he got to your breasts “you don’t have all day.” You grumbled feeling his hands run over your stomach.

A laugh left his lips as his face hovered over yours “like seeing how needy you get f’me.” The boy mumbled as he shifted down your bed aiming to go to your now soaking cunt that had you squirming to press your thighs together “and so wet too.” He teased propping your legs up at an angle giving him space lay down “please.” You begged writhing in your sheets full of anticipation.

Luke pressed his tongue flat against your slit as it almost made you jump “fuck Luke.” You groaned quickly finding your hands in his hair as his arms locked around your thighs.

He loved having you like this as he looked up to see your eyes already screwed shut. His tongue lapped up against your cunt as though you were his last meal “s-so good.” You gasped tugging at his curls as his teeth grazed over your clit.

Your feet pressed against his back as you swore your were going to pass out as you looked to the heavens for help “so sweet.” Luke’s words sent vibrations through your body and with that it made your nipples harden as you brought one hand up to tease your sensitive peaks “please.” You begged as his movements were relentless making you contemplate who was enjoying this more.

A feeling of being on fire captured your body as you didn’t care about keeping your moans and whimpers quiet when the boy had you clenching around nothing “let go f’me pretty girl.” Luke nodded as he smirked knowing that his time away from you was enough to make you want him ten times more.

Sexual frustration was one way to put it and was probably what you would have tried to argue but instead as Luke’s skilful tongue had you forgetting what language you spoke there was no doubt about it just being him. You wanted to still prove your point by holding out on him but the moment he had his fingers pinching at your thighs you knew you were gone “fuck dear lord!” You cursed letting your body shake against the mattress as your chest heaved making him continue his movements until your cunt finally came and it was so hard it had your toes curling.

Just as your orgasm came down and your breathing began to go straight you brought Luke up to kiss you again “we’re home!” Cole called out as he slid open the glass door. It reminded you that your door was wide open as the youngest Hughes boy seemed to fail to shut it.

You were quick to push the boy off of you “baby!” Luke whisper yelled as he looked down at his now painful boner “go have a shower and I can stall them?” You proposed with a shrug as you began to grab things out of your suitcase to wear.

The boy crossed his arms as he sent you an unimpressed look “you’re like so not funny.” He grumbled as you pulled your shirt over your head walking back over to him as you smiled “promise I’ll make it up to you later big boy.” You winked as you had convinced him to join you as you went looking for your apartment in California.

Luke let out a sigh as he pecked your lips “you’re lucky you’re cute.” The hockey player clicked his tongue as he sighed heading out of your room just in time for Jack to come up the stairs “good shower?” The middle Hughes boy teased seeing your reddened cheeks “great shower.” You nodded watching him come into your room and sit on your bed as though that wasn’t where his brother just had you seeing stars.

The rest of the day was relatively quiet for you both and of course it couldn’t last too long. As the next day Trevor thought it was funny as he had caught Luke staring at you as you sunbathed that morning. So much so that every single chance he got he teased the younger Hughes boy at every chance that he got. But as the celebrations for the fourth of July finally began the teasing stopped as Luke found himself sat next to you “you’re just as pretty as the fireworks.” He confessed making you blush.

Luke smiled at your reaction “like seeing you smile pretty girl.” The hockey player placed his hand on your knee before you quickly swatted it away “you know my rules.�� You pointed your finger at him accusingly as you tried to not smile.

Even his pout couldn’t make you break as Jack sent you a confused look wondering what made you both so quiet “Luke c’mere!” Trevor’s called out as a group of girls arrived “want you to meet Isabel.” He added instantly making you furrow your eyebrows.

It made Luke laugh as he placed his hand on your knee again “trust me no girl is gonna make me not want you.” He reminded you of where he stood as you brushed him off “trust me those girls wouldn’t be competition even if you weren’t mine.” It make a spark land in his belly hearing you say that he was yours.

Yet when you heard the sound of the girls voices get louder you both turned to see Luke walk over to them. Sure you trusted the boy but it was moments like this that you wished there was more between you both as everyone would have then known that he was yours.

The night was a little lonelier than you’d admit because even as Trevor ended up sat next to you, the sound of Isabelle’s voice as she flirted with Luke echoed in your ears. It left you wanting to reach up and hit the ducks player for trying to help the youngest Hughes boy out.

When you went out the morning after for groceries you should have known that it was dangerous letting Luke come with you. But after last night when Trevor spent the majority of his evening trying to get Luke a girl, you were feeling jealous and you missed his company and attention. So you brought Luke along figuring as the rest of the boys weren’t awake so what was truly the worst thing that could happen?

Luke smirked as he watched you struggle to get the bag of chips from the top shelf “need some help pretty girl?” He teased watching you push onto your tippy toes “I think I can get a bag of chips Lu-” you were cut off when he pressed himself against you reaching above to get what you wanted.

Your mouth went dry as you felt his bulge hit your lower back “Luke we are in public!” You whisper yelled turning to see his face drop to your neck “just want you to see what it is that you do to me.” The hockey player mumbled he peppered soft kisses on your open collar bone “god you are dangerous.” You groaned as you turned to face him with his shit eating grin.

If this was any other moment with any other guy you would have thought that it was cute that he was a little bit needy, but after the earlier events of the week it only made your hunger grow more for Luke. That was why you honestly let Luke win, the front of the cart had your hand wrapped around it s hard that your knuckles turned white. The music that echoed through the overhead speakers went quiet in your mind as you stood there watching in awe as the mere feeling of his lips on yours had you feeling like a moth to a flame, with your mind entirely captivated by him. As his scent invaded your nostrils you were so close to being entirely enthralled by him, but you were far enough that the sound of a basket hitting the cold floor had you pushing Luke away.

The color drained from your face as you locked eyes with him “wait.” You gasped seeing him freeze “you guys a thing now or something?” Jack blinked silently praying that this was just some bad dream that he could wake up from “sort of?” With your hesitancy on getting into it Luke proposed that you guys spoke about what you were after the summer, with or without his brother’s knowledge. Jack scoffed as he sent the taller boy a glare “out of all of the girls who fucking fell at your feet you just had to take her huh?” The forward felt sick knowing that Luke had a crush on you, but he thought he would act on it.

Tears fulled your eyes as you frowned “did you run out of girls your own age and just wanted the one thing you knew you couldn’t have?” The boys never had an agreement about it but as Quinn and Luke both had male best friends, Jack just figured that because you were his, you’d be off limits. Luke frowned as he shook his head “I really fucking like her dude so don’t talk about her like that.” Luke took a step forward as you stepped between the duo wanting to avoid a fight “you are such a pain in my ass!” As Jack went to take a step at his brother you stopped him by pressing your hand against his chest.

The boys glared at each other as you finally spoke up “I’m so sorry.” Your voice wavered as your lips quivered “and you just had to go spread your legs for him.” Jack spat not even letting himself look at you “don’t talk to her like that!” Luke was quick to go to your defense as he hated what it implied.

Jack shook his head as the sight of Luke wrapping his hand around your waist “you both make me sick.” His voice was barely a whisper as he sent you a look that truly made you feel like the worst person on the planet.

The middle Hughes boy turned to leave as he sighed leaving you two alone “Jack!” You sobbed as Luke held you in your spot “please!” Your throat was sore as tears rolled down your cheeks.

Luke also kept you from collapsing onto the ground “Luke please.” you begged trying to push past him as you continued to cry “I need to go to him.” You were finally strong enough to get away from Luke as you brought your hands up to wipe your eyes “just give him a second baby.” Luke reached out to grab your hand but you shook your head not wanting it “we aren’t like that anymore.” You announced practically breaking his heart in the process “you don’t mean that.” Luke now felt his tears kicking in.

But even as it was all so emotional, you still remained strong “I said I’d end it if he wasn’t happy.” You reminded him of how Jack was important to you “what about our happiness?” These past few months with Luke had been the best thing you had ever had. The highs were like a drug that you were constantly addicted to and now it was your oxygen.

You sighed as Luke looked at you, somehow with all that love still in his heart “Jack is my best friend.” You reminded Luke all that his brother meant to you “I love you!” Luke knew it wasn’t the right time to tell you that but he had felt that way since he watched you get out of the pool when you were fifteen. Sure your hair might have been in some messy braids but the sight of you in that red bikini was enough to make him feel things that no other girl has ever made him feel.

As a tear rolled down his cheek your thumb wiped it away “Luke you are young, you could-” as you tried to tell him that there would be plenty of other people for him Luke the boy that he could find someone else it was no use “I love you.” He repeated as he frowned “if you love me then you’ll let me go.” You pleaded as you kissed his lips one last time.

Still Luke couldn’t understand why you were doing this “why are you doing this?” Luke felt sick as his heart throbbed watching you step away from him again “because you can find any girl who will love you.” It was still no secret that Luke was gorgeous and as he was a new hotshot hockey player, the girls who wanted him only increased “but f’me there is only one Jack.” You didn’t mean that you only had one Jack Hughes, no you meant that there was only ever going to be one man in your life who could make you feel the way you did. He was the man who could make you laugh so hard you’d have milk coming from your eyes, he could have you telling him everything about you - so much so that he knew you better than you knew yourself -.

But beyond all that you had grown so close and comfortable with Jack that your life before him wasn’t something you could remember anymore. You needed Jack in your life to keep you sane and you couldn’t cope with the idea of losing him, even if it meant you could finally be happy “I’ll miss you.” You mumbled as you walked back leaving the isle as you went to chase after Jack.

The last few months might have formed a relationship that you could no longer call yours, but the memories you held could’ve been kept for a lifetime.

#amber writes fics #Luke Hughes imagines #Luke hughes smut #nhl imagines #nhl smut #hockey imagines #hockey smut #oneshots #nhl oneshot #imagines #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #Luke x Jack bsf series!

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restellelunette7 · 8 months ago

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"Everything we love dies."

"My family used to be in the textiles industry. My... mother was... Don't have much use for textiles nowadays. "

"I write today with a heavy heart. My closest confidant and most daring friend Yina Kia has left this planet…"

"Brutus is growing older. In a way, he has become my brother and I am already weary of how it will feel to watch him slow down."

"when I transformed, we lost our bond, and Brutus grew old and died just like any other pet."

"I won't say her name... but I was married once. When she died, I had no use for my weaker form anymore, no reason to be anything other than a beast."

"Everything we love dies."

"Get used to it. "

——

Each picture reduces one person, leaving Greg alone.

Every picture has some detail in it. rugs made by mother in The first picture, The Cow Plant that killed Yina Kia in the second, and Avelina's telescope in the third.

#sims 4 #ts4 werewolves #sims 4 werewolf #sims 4 werewolves #sims 4 greg #greggorius lunvik #greg lunvik #mooncaster #moonwood mill #avelina lunvik #pernilla lunvik #yina kia

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swiftholic-13 · 8 months ago

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The Season's Scandal Chapter 4

pairing → Eloise Bridgerton x Female Reader

summary → Y/N is having a heart to heart with Eloise. Her biggest fear might also become her reality.

warnings → none

words → 2.2k

masterpost chapter 3 chapter 5

The following day I woke up early and ordered a servant to get the carriage ready. I was trying to be as fast as possible, so my brother would not see me and could forbid me to leave the house. I immediately went to the Bridgerton House to go visit Eloise.

“What bothers you?” Eloise asked me in a caring tone. Soon after I have arrived she showed me their huge garden. Spending time with the Bridgertons showed me how caring and supportive a family can be. I really wished one day I'd have a family just like them. It was hot and sunny, so it was only natural that we would stay there for the next few hours. Spending time with Eloise was the only thing keeping me sane. The hours went by fast and soon her family left us alone and went back inside. I realized that I could listen to Eloise for hours without ever growing weary. There was nothing she could say that would make me stop hanging on every word from her lips. Sooner than later the sun began to set and we settled down on the grass beneath us, looking at the stars. While I was looking at the sky she was laying on her side facing me. The grass touching my bare arms felt unusual but also liberating. “I cannot stop thinking about returning home, my brother will kill me” I looked over to her and her eyes were reflecting the light of the moon. I could not stop myself from staring. She gently took my hand in hers and interlaced our fingers. This was different feeling now that we were not wearing gloves, more intimate than anything we have ever had. “Then do not” I smiled to myself “I cannot hide here forever, El” She shifted closer to me and placed her other hand on top of mine “He has no right to treat you like that and besides I have 7 siblings, do you really think one more would trouble my mama?” We both chuckled and I managed to relax a bit. I looked down at our intertwined hands. With Eloise I felt safe, I knew I could trust her with everything. “My brother was always my parents´ favorite. No endeavor of mine could ever please them. For a while, this granted me some freedom, but not for long. He was always the perfect child, the perfect Duke. Though he may not relish his position as Duke, he never had to prove himself worthy of their love. I have never been granted such affections by them. They are not incapable of love, just incapable of loving me and still I would not dare to bring shame on this family. My mama sent me away with him, hoping to never see me again”. My voice broke and I could feel her eyes fixated on me as I talked, a compassionate gaze that made me feel warm inside. I blinked a few times trying to prevent the tears from rolling down my face. “I am scared” I whispered barely audible and turned my face towards Eloise locking eyes. She noticed my glassy eyes and a sad frown settled on her face. “That they take the one thing that I truly care about away from me”. Eloise inched closer to me and brushed a strand of loose hair behind my ear. “You are the strongest person I know. I cannot imagine what the life you have endured must be like. You are truly remarkable. Please do not let anyone dictate your actions.” her eyes did not leave mine for a second. Her soft and caring tone made me want to kiss her right away. I wanted to pull her close and taste her lips, even if it would be the last thing I would do, I would die a happy woman. Her tone changed and became a bit more playful. “Besides, would you truly leave me to be a spinster all alone? You cannot allow me to be the sole social disgrace here” I smiled at her and chuckled. Her eyes were still fixated on mine, searching for something. “I like you more like that” she whispered. Trying to hide my blush from her I turned my head again, looking back at the beautiful night sky. My view was good but could never compare to her gorgeous smile.

“You really think you want to be spinsters with me forever, we have not known each other for long” I asked, waiting eagerly for her answer. I was scared to reveal my feelings for her. Society does not let people like me have these feelings, it is scandalous. I had to be careful who to put my trust in. I did not think that Eloise would tell anyone. But the fear of losing her, the only person I cared about, was to big to let my desire ruin it. She meant the world to me. “I feel like I have known you long enough” she answered and instantly made me smile again. I could feel her soft hand caressing mine. The way her thumb moved over the back of my hand made me shiver. She was always so gentle with me. I closed my eyes and enjoyed her touch in peace. It was something rarely granted to me. I knew It was momentary.

Our peaceful silence was soon interrupted by footsteps approaching. Eloise snatched her hand away and we both sat up as quick as possible. I straightened out my hair a bit and Eloise fixed her skirt, like we were just doing other things. The footsteps became louder and a figure passed the bush we were sitting behind. Benedict. “Eloise?” he asked surprised, his eyes wandering from her face to mine and back to hers. “I did not know you were still here” He said in a thoughtful manner looking at me. “I was just escorting Y/N outside, to her carriage” Eloise said and motioned me to follow along. She stood up and held her hand out for me to take. Our eyes never left each other as she helped me up. After a few times looking at Eloise and back at me Benedict understood the situation and smiled to himself. Eloise caught his eye “what?” she asked. “nothing, sister” he smirked and took his turn to leave. After he left we retuned to a rather uncomfortable silence. "You are right, I shall leave” I said looking down at my hands. “It is pretty late indeed” she agreed with me and lead me through the garden, inside the house and out through the hallway towards the gate. We walked outside in an uncomfortable silence. My carriage was already ready and the closer I got to it the worse I felt. I stopped in my movements short before having to enter the carriage. I turned and took her hands in mine once again. “See you tomorrow?” she asked, knowing very well that the chance of it happening was pretty low. My brother would not let me leave the house again, unless for another ball. I took a deep breath and nodded with a sad smile on my face. “tomorrow” I whispered back. She slowly leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on my cheek. I shivered at the contact of her lips on my skin. Luckily no one saw us, except for the carriage driver, which already got extra money from me. She slowly pulled back and let go of my hands, allowing me to enter the carriage. I wish I could just pull her in the carriage along with me and show her how much she means to me. I wish I would not have to leave her now and go back to my house where my angry brother was awaiting me. I took a last look at her as I settled down and she closed the door. The horses started walking and with every step they took the distance between Eloise and me grew. I touched my cheek where her lips have just been a few seconds ago. I smiled to myself. Every second I have spent with Eloise was worth all of what's to come.

————————

Soon after my carriage arrived at our house. A servant helped me out of carriage and walked me to the gate that decorated the entrance of the huge house. When the doors opened I was greeted with the sight of my angry brother. I simply ignored him and handed one of our servants my cape. “You better have a good explanation” he grunted. “No” I simply said and walked past him. “Y/N” a too familiar female voice said. I turned around and looked straight in the face of evil. My mother. I looked at my brother in shock. I expected many things from him but not this. He simply looked away. “Your brother has told me about your behavior” the look of bare disappointment plastered over her face. “I am going to bed” I said simply but she grabbed my arm, pure anger on her face “Where were you?” “promenading through the park” I scoffed. “At this late hour? It is scandalous for a lady to be alone this late, but if I should find out that have been seeing some gentleman I will kill you myself” she scoffed and grabbed my arm tighter. I just rolled my eyes and ripped my arm away from her. “Do not worry mother” I walked up the stairs as fast as possible. “You will not leave this house, you will not go any ball unless it is by my side and if you do not secure an engagement within this season I shall pick a husband for you myself. I will not tolerate this behavior of yours any longer”. I quickly took my left as I felt tears starting to leak from my eyes. I was afraid of this happening. Did my brother really had to bring our mother here? My life was about to get much worse. Now my mother forced me into marriage. I had no chance of escaping her. How would I even get the chance of seeing Eloise now.

My first instinct was to write a letter to her, explaining everything that was happening. I tried not to get to deep into it, a letter could get lost and the last thing I wanted was a scandal being caused by a single letter that I wrote to the girl of my dreams. The following morning, I rushed downstairs and handed the letter to a servant. Before they could walk of, my mother snatched the letter from his hands. “writing letters? To whom?” when I stepped forward, trying to get it back she gave me a knowing look and opened the letter. I grew impatient and felt my anger rising, I had to find another way to contact her. “Dearest Eloise…, who is Eloise?” she asked. “a friend” I replied and tried to get the letter back. Before I could get a hold of it she ripped it apart and the pieces fell to the ground. I looked at her in pure shock. “You are here to secure a marriage, not find friends” she declared and left me alone. I just wished to be a man, I could do whatever I wanted without anybody complaining or telling me what to do. I could just marry Eloise and make a good Life for us. Sadly this was just a dream and would never happen. Before leaving the room, my mother turned back around “you have a few visitors soon, get ready”. My brother was standing at the top of the stairs, watching us, as I tried to calm myself down. He didn´t say a thing as I rushed past him, upstairs, back to my room.

Dancing with possible suitors was bad, but this was much worse. I sat silently next to my mother, while she told the various men about my qualities as housewife and mother. The thought alone of having to give birth to a child made me sick. They smiled at me in a disgusting way that made me want to run away. The whole day I could not stop thinking about Eloise and how much I missed her. Her laugh, the way her eyes were glowing, her scent, her perfect voice, her gorgeous chestnut hair and just her presence. This was torture.

Over the course of the next week my mother did not allow me to attend the next ball and my various attempts of sneaking out failed. She did not let me out of her sight for one second and there was no way of letting Eloise know of everything that was going on. I was slowly losing my sanity. That was until Victor decided to show up, missing me at the latest ball. I was more than grateful to see him and almost jumped into his arms begging him to kidnap me. My countless attempts of getting rid of my mother during his stay failed and even his suggestion of a walk in the park got declined. He could sense the seriousness of this situation even though we were not granted a moment of peace. Before he took his leave he made it very clear that he would like to see me at tonight’s ball. Luckily that was enough to convince my mother to let me go. I had no idea how I could escape her at the ball but only the thought of seeing Eloise again after these long days made me get excited and forget about my fatal situation.

As always I hope you enjoyed this chapter and don't worry it's getting spicier very very soon.

#female reader #wlw #wlw fanfic #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x y/n #eloise bridgerton #eloise bridgerton x reader #eloise bridgerton x you #lesbian #bridgerton x female reader #eloise x reader #queer fanfiction #regency era #wlw x reader

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agentrouka-blog · 2 months ago

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It seems like Dany in book is still having hard time believing that her father was a Mad King who was hated in Westros. When Selmy tried to mention it she stopped him because she didn't like where it was going despite she asked him about it.

That entire scene is so...

(Cut for long quote)

Dany is reading a book of fairytales that she acknowledges are not proper history. (Symbolismmmmm.) But she keeps getting distracted by doubts about herself.

She played at being a queen, yet sometimes she still felt like a scared little girl. Viserys always said what a dolt I was. Was he truly mad? She closed the book. She could still recall Ser Jorah, if she wished. Or send Daario to kill him. Dany fled from the choice, out onto the terrace. She found Rhaegal asleep beside the pool, a green and bronze coil basking in the sun. Drogon was perched up atop the pyramid, in the place where the huge bronze harpy had stood before she had commanded it to be pulled down. He spread his wings and roared when he spied her. There was no sign of Viserion, but when she went to the parapet and scanned the horizon she saw pale wings in the far distance, sweeping above the river. He is hunting. They grow bolder every day. Yet it still made her anxious when they flew too far away. One day one of them may not return, she thought. “Your Grace?” She turned to find Ser Barristan behind her. “What more would you have of me, ser? I spared you, I took you into my service, now give me some peace.” “Forgive me, Your Grace. It was only … now that you know who I am …” The old man hesitated. “A knight of the Kingsguard is in the king’s presence day and night. For that reason, our vows require us to protect his secrets as we would his life. But your father’s secrets by rights belong to you now, along with his throne, and … I thought perhaps you might have questions for me.” Questions? She had a hundred questions, a thousand, ten thousand. Why couldn’t she think of one? “Was my father truly mad?” she blurted out. Why do I ask that? “Viserys said this talk of madness was a ploy of the Usurper’s …” “Viserys was a child, and the queen sheltered him as much as she could. Your father always had a little madness in him, I now believe. Yet he was charming and generous as well, so his lapses were forgiven. His reign began with such promise … but as the years passed, the lapses grew more frequent, until …” Dany stopped him. “Do I want to hear this now?” Ser Barristan considered a moment. “Perhaps not. Not now.” “Not now,” she agreed. “One day. One day you must tell me all. The good and the bad. There is some good to be said of my father, surely?” “There is, Your Grace. Of him, and those who came before him. Your grandfather Jaehaerys and his brother, their father Aegon, your mother … and Rhaegar. Him most of all.” “I wish I could have known him.” Her voice was wistful. “I wish he could have known you,” the old knight said. “When you are ready, I will tell you all.” Dany kissed him on the cheek and sent him on his way. That night her handmaids brought her lamb, with a salad of raisins and carrots soaked in wine, and a hot flaky bread dripping with honey. She could eat none of it. Did Rhaegar ever grow so weary? she wondered. Did Aegon, after his conquest? Later, when the time came for sleep, Dany took Irri into bed with her, for the first time since the ship. But even as she shuddered in release and wound her fingers through her handmaid’s thick black hair, she pretended it was Drogo holding her … only somehow his face kept turning into Daario’s. If I want Daario I need only say so. She lay with Irri’s legs entangled in her own. His eyes looked almost purple today … (ASOS, Daenerys VI)

The whole scene is so utterly rife with Red Flags.

Dany has just commited a(nother) massacre, made herself Supreme Leader Until I Move On and banished Jorah for his past spying. She (correctly) surmises that she is overwhelmed and questions her suitability for the job of ruling. She questions her family's sanity.

She wants to avoid what those questions imply. Out on the terrace, she sees Drogon doing his best Replacement Harpy impression (symbolismmmmm) while another one is off hunting boldly (surely nothing bad can come of that behavior in the near future...) and...

A glimpse of hope! A dude with unique personal information about her family appears and offers to share it! Perhaps that uncomfortable feeling can return into focus and be addressed?

Nah.

AND THEN the guy goes "You know what? You're totally right. This isn't really relevant or urgent. Nothing about your family history is alarming enough to question your path in general. Your brother was AWESOME btw."

Barristan, even if he had told her things, would never have helped her come to uncomfortable conclusions because he is the worst kind of hypocritical sycophant for a) any monarch he happens to be serving at the time, and b) House Targaryen in particular. The conversation they are putting off... would not have been useful anyway.

So a placated Dany returns the focus on herself and her feelings, but validated, and her next move is to turn the "this must never happen again" incident with her "not a sex slave" Irri into "actually, time to honorable serve your khaleesi like a sex toy while she fantasizes about other people". People who remind her of her family and their Valyrian looks.

She is burrowing into her Targaryen identity in ways she hadn't even done before, taking liberties with her power that she had shied away from before. Her yelp review will be underwhelming. "Her kisses tasted of duty". Because that's what it was. Dany doesn't care.

She ends up making a choice the next morning.

“My city,” said Dany. “I was looking for a house with a red door, but by night all the doors are black.”

And it is a reasonable choice on the surface, that finally has her standing fast to accept a sense of responsibility for the outcomes of her actions here.

But already we see how the missing context of Westerosi history is distorting her understanding, and Barristan bolstered this. Because she creates a difference where there isn't one.

“Aegon the Conqueror brought fire and blood to Westeros, but afterward he gave them peace, prosperity, and justice. But all I have brought to Slaver’s Bay is death and ruin. I have been more khal than queen, smashing and plundering, then moving on.” “There is nothing to stay for,” said Brown Ben Plumm. “Your Grace, the slavers brought their doom on themselves,” said Daario Naharis. “You have brought freedom as well,” Missandei pointed out. “Freedom to starve?” asked Dany sharply. “Freedom to die? Am I a dragon, or a harpy?” Am I mad? Do I have the taint? “A dragon,” Ser Barristan said with certainty. “Meereen is not Westeros, Your Grace.” “But how can I rule seven kingdoms if I cannot rule a single city?” He had no answer to that. Dany turned away from them, to gaze out over the city once again. “My children need time to heal and learn. My dragons need time to grow and test their wings. And I need the same. I will not let this city go the way of Astapor. I will not let the harpy of Yunkai chain up those I’ve freed all over again.” She turned back to look at their faces. “I will not march.” “What will you do then, Khaleesi?” asked Rakharo. “Stay,” she said. “Rule. And be a queen.”

Dany sees a difference between dragon and harpy that the earlier image of Drogon in the harpy's place already shows us is a false dichotomy. She imagines prosperity and peace in the aftermath of Aegon's invasion where he created no such thing. She is concerned with her sanity and suitability to rule, so she will stay temporarily to test herself on this city of human beings.

The human children must heal and learn. Her dragons need to grow and fly.

Dany needs the same, she says. The same as her dragons, not the same as her children. There will be little healing and learning. But we will see her fly off on Drogon, ecstatic, while the people of her city burn below.

It was never going to end any other way, because "if I look back I am lost" is her curse. She is not interested in the facts, because they hinder her fantasy of the red door. But she will also never get facts because there is no one who would give them to her.

She prefers a book of fairytales over a proper history and she will begin to forget there's a difference.

#anti daenerys targaryen #meereen arc #anto barristan selmy #anti targaryen #long post

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natailiatulls07 · 1 year ago

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Drive to survive

Charles Leclerc & leclerc!driver!reader

Summary - Netflix's drive to survive interviews Y/n and Charles Leclerc about something that caused immense issues

Warning - Cheating, car crash, panic attack, fire, crying, swearing and self doubt

Reader drives for Ferrari

Purple is flashbacks

Y/n Leclerc, Ferrari

"Hello, I'm Y/n Leclerc. I'm 24 years old and I race for Ferrari alongside my twin brother, Charles Leclerc" I sat in the seat just in front of the camera, my anxiety throw the roof. My last season had ended on a bad note, with some personal troubles effecting my focus on track.

The producer settled herself down just to the side of the camera with a hand full of questions and topics that we would talk through for Netflix. "How are you feeling right now?"

Taking a deep breath in and out before answering. "yeah..I think I'm good. but yet I guess I'll have to be" A nervous chuckle left my lips which earned me a look of sympathy from the producer.

Looking down at her paper, she prepared herself to ask the first question. "So how do you feel after your ending last year?" Her voice calm and collected, as if she wanted me to feel that energy, this was what I was grateful for.

It took me a second of debating, debating my answer. "Um yeah, I mean it was a hard time obviously...I had some personal problems regarding my relationship and unfortunately that had its effect on my performance" A pause to think over my answer. "Of course I should not have um let that effect my performance, which I am greatly disappointed at myself for"

Walking into my appartment, I noticed the absence of Theo in the open plan kitchen lounge. I searched further into the appartment. Thats where I saw Theo in my bed with another girl.

Tears were welling up in my eyes, I had been dating him since I was just twenty but yet he decided to throw that away for some girl. "What the fuck?!" Shock, betrayal and heartbreak. Thats all I felt.

That night I kicked him and his sidechick out of my appartment, wanting to see nothing of them ever again. Luckily my three brothers were coming round that evening. So when they saw me, cheeks burned with tears, they knew something happened.

It was the last grand prix of the season, Abu Dhabi, I was sat in p4 just awaiting for the five red lights to flash away. My head was clogged with that day, the day I got heartbroken. "Radio check, radio check" My race engineers voice came through my headset.

"Loud and clear..." Voice low and weary as I replied.

"Y/n...you can do it, just forget and clear your mind" He knew of my heartache, heck everyone knew, wanting nothing more for me to end the season on a high note.

That race was my worst race to date. I didn't finish it. It was the Abu Dhabi race where I crashed, the Abu Dhabi race where I just sat by my burning car tangled up in a panic attack. I couldn't control my breathing or my mind.

Not my finest hour, in my opinion it was my very worse.

Looking down at my lap, I could see my leg persistantly bumping up and down. It was hard to talk about that time. "What was your first instinct to your crash?" The producer asked her next question.

Once again my mind was casted back to that night. "Well um I remember that after I got out of my car, I couldn't stop crying and I couldn't control my breathing. I was having a panic attack and I just couldn't calm myself down"

It was loud. I could hear the safety team trying to calm down the fire. I could hear fans watching on from the sidelines. I could hear my race engineer trying to calm me down through my headset. I felt like I was moving away from the real world every second.

My mind couldn't focus on one thing. I felt the warmth of the fire on my body. I felt the hands of a safety team member trying to bring me back down to earth.

When Charles heard the red flag through his radio, his mind went straight to Y/n. Where was Y/n? Is Y/n okay? Growing up Charles grew more and more protective of his twin.

So when he saw her car and herself not in attendance of the Ferrari, he became even the more distressed. But when he saw the crash on the large television screen, he set off run towards it much to the team dismay.

Charles ran until he reached the burn car. He saw her sat there curled up in her arms.

"Bébé bébé peux-tu m'entendre? Je suis là, souffle souffle écoute mon coeur" He pulled her into himself, moving her head to rest just above his heart. Wanting her to hear his heartbeat and copy it.

Charles knew of her panic attacks, he watched them grow worse and worse as they grew up. But he always knew how to help her, calm her down and breath.

Charles Leclerc, Ferrari

"How did you feel when you saw your teammate and sister crash and then have a panic attack?" The producer asked the 25 year old Ferrari driver.

His eyes downcasted, that night was his nightmare. "I remember feeling um this sense of terror fill me when I saw her crash. Aside from being my teammate at Ferrari, Y/n is my twinsister. She's has always had her panic attacks but that night..." Charles felt his eye water up even at the thought.

"That night was the worst panic attack she has ever had, I don't think I'll recover from that night" Standing up from his chair, Charles walked away from the camera. Tears flooding down his cheeks.

Y/n Leclerc, Ferrari

"It was only when Charles came that I started to come back down to earth. It's always when he comes that I come back." It was always Charles who helped me through my panic attacks.

Charles. He has been my rock ever since forever. He had been my rock when times got rough and tough. Before each race checking on me and everyday checking on me. He knew how hard I was taking my breakup and just wanted to help me through that.

Once again, I took in another deep breath, trying to distance myself from that night. "So 2023, how are you feeling about returning to Ferrari with Charles by your side?" The producer continued.

A small smile made its way to my face. "Yeah um I'm excited of course. I love racing, I love getting behind that wheel and fighting for a place on the podium, fighting for first place" Nodding my head, with approval of my comment.

"Well thank you so much for talking with us today, I know it's hard to talk about something like that" The camera were cut off, we both stood up from our seats.

Walking out of the studio, I felt a sense of relief and solace fall on my shoulders. This replacing the deep sorrow and disappointment.

I heard my appartment door open and close. Walking into the kitchen lounge, Charles had a proud smile on his face. "Whats got you smile like that?" I laughed at my confusion, Charles joining in with my amused laughter.

"Lucy, your manager, just called me and she told me about your interview with Netflix today...I'm so proud of you baby sis" His tears cloud his waterline whilst tears of my own clouded my own.

Finally, I had gotten over my anxiety and my regret. I could breath again.

#formula one #formula one x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #x sister reader #arthur leclerc #arthur leclerc x reader #lorenzo leclerc #pascale leclerc #f1 #formula one x y/n #lando norris #max verstappen #daniel ricciardo #lewis hamilton #george russell #yuki tsunoda #fernando alonso #carlos sainz

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thescrapwitch · 21 days ago

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I am still working on fics so here is a snippet from the latest upcoming chapter of From Ruins We Grow to prove it:

“Fingon has returned to life,” said Mahtan.

The two of them sat by the fireplace, sharing a pot of tea as the snow fell outside. Necel was curled up beneath the bed, having stuffed herself on the sardine treats Mahtan had brought with him. The conversation had been pleasant enough beforehand, moving from project ideas to harmless news from Tirion. Mahtan’s words chilled Fëanor’s heart.

“Has he?” Fëanor tried to swallow down the bitter envy that rose up in his throat. “I suppose Nolofinwë is pleased.”

“Your half-brother is still in the Halls,” said Mahtan. There was a weariness to him, as though expecting a familiar argument to start, but also a strange gentleness. An understanding of how deeply Fëanor missed his sons. “As are the rest of his children and Arafinwë’s, save Finrod. Fingon is the second of Finwë’s grandchildren to come back.”

“I see.”

What else could Fëanor say to that?

He’d seen the tapestry of Maedhros’ capture and torture, of those damn cliffs and Fingon’s rescue. What parent wouldn’t be haunted by the sight of their child’s broken, dangling body? What parent wouldn’t be grateful to whoever saved them from such horror?

Though he wasn't surprised by the depth of Fingon’s devotion. It was almost laughable how everyone thought him unaware of the truth. Of course he knew Maedhros and Fingon loved one another. All of Valinor knew. A love that burned as bright as theirs was not subtle. But Fëanor had been upset by it and didn’t want to be - didn’t want his son to charge forth into a relationship out of spite, or worse, to limit his heart in an effort to appease his father - and so bit his tongue to ribbons and faked ignorance.

He assumed one of them - probably Fingon, who hated secrets and preferred honesty, even when lies would have made life smoother - would broach the topic sooner and later. In preparation for what seemed like the inevitable, Fëanor had planned out what to say when Fingon finally knocked on his door and asked for Maedhros’ hand. A whole speech, written out and memorized, with a series of questions and demands ending in acceptance.

Never, no matter his feelings towards Nolofinwë, did Fëanor want to stand in the way of Maedhros’ happiness.

But then Morgoth’s lies had dripped poison into his ears and everyone - brash, gold-hearted nephews included - became enemies. Spies, liars, wolves in sheep’s clothing threatening to tear apart all Fëanor held dear. All his good intentions to support his eldest son were forgotten as he ripped apart any chance of that love blooming into a peaceful union between their two families.

The silence stretched on in the cottage, turning uncomfortable. Fëanor forced himself to speak. “Has he adjusted to returning to life?”

“Not yet,” said Mahtan. “From what I have heard, Finrod is doing his best to help, but Valinor is much different than Beleriand. It shall take time. A long time.”

Fëanor stared into the fire. The flames were as red as his son’s hair. The flames had burnt his bright boy into ashes. “Has he asked about Maedhros?”

“Yes,” said Mahtan. “Every single day.”

#Maedhros and Feanor’s chapter has a lot of layers to work through #trying some different stuff with it #luckily it is winter now just like in my fic which makes coming up with descriptions easier!#life imitating art and all that #my writing #silmarillion #Feanor #Maedhros #Mahtan #Fingon

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mae-lou-ron · 2 months ago

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For Granted

Summary: Your beloved Gregor returns from a weeks-long mission for the clone underground, and after a long night filled with debriefings, he can’t wait to show you just how much he missed you while he was gone.

Pairing: Captain Gregor x f!reader

Warnings: 🚨 NSFW - SMUT AHEAD 🚨, 18+ MDNI, explicit sexual content and language, established relationship, mutual pining, cockwarming, unprotected PiV, edging, delayed orgasm, praise, soft!Dom Gregor, pleasure!dom Gregor?, oodles of fluff, Gregor can't keep his eyes (or hands) off you, color system safe words (only green used), aftercare, this is what I call a plot/smut/plot sandwich.

Word Count: 4,700

A/N: GOBBLE GOBBLE GREGOR GIRLIES. Happy to report I am posting this way earlier than I thought would be possible. (I finally did it @jetii, @captn-trex @lonewolflupe— again thank you for your constant inspiration and encouragement) This is the first smut I’ve ever posted and I guess decided to just go for it. I don’t know what to tell you, I just feel like Gregor would be such a soft and needy little pleasure dom. Okay, bone apple tea my fellow feral goblins. DO NOT PERCEIVE ME.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was late—very late.

The away team shuttle had touched down hours ago, but before you could greet Gregor properly, Rex had swooped in and intercepted him before he even made it down the gangplank. Their mission to the ruins of Tipoca City had proven successful, and Rex wanted to know everything.

For nearly two weeks, they dove beneath the old cloning facility's wreckage, searching the depths for anything that survived the orbital bombardment—especially for anything that could help them better understand the inhibitor chips. As you observed him from across the holotable, you noted the exhaustion that marked your beloved's features. His bloodshot eyes had dark circles beneath them, and though he tried his best to stay alert and focused, the weariness was clearly setting in. Yet, despite his current state, Gregor's gaze kept finding its way back to you, his lips curving into a small smile whenever your eyes met.

You listened and updated the data banks while Rex thoroughly questioned Gregor and his team about their operation. When Rex was finally satisfied with what was recovered, the meeting adjourned. As you gathered your things, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Gregor, hoping this was finally the moment for your long-awaited reunion—but he remained deep in conversation with Rex, their heads bent together. You sighed inwardly but couldn't help glowing with admiration for him.

He was probably the most lighthearted of his brothers, but Gregor showed unwavering dedication to his work—particularly when it involved Rex. After all, Rex had orchestrated Gregor's rescue from the Empire by sending the Bad Batch to extract him, saving Gregor from the Empire's grim plans for clone troopers like himself.

Rex's relentless pursuit to understand and neutralize the inhibitor chips strengthened Gregor's dedication to the mission. For Gregor, helping Rex wasn't just about loyalty—it was about preventing other clones from enduring the same fate. This devotion extended to everyone Gregor held dear, including you. He had become not only your lover but your best friend and closest ally in the growing clone rebellion. You had become one of the few anchors in each other’s lives that had been plagued with uncertainty.

From your first meeting, you were irresistibly drawn to him—and he made no effort to hide his magnetic attraction to you. Even now, his keen eyes would seek you out first whenever he entered a room. True to form, Gregor's gaze shifted to you over Rex's shoulder again, silently expressing his longing to be near you after so many days apart. You caught his eye and flashed a playful smirk, pressing a fingertip to your lips before extending it toward him. He would always wink in return. Though your relationship was no longer a secret, you both treasured this little ritual—a wordless exchange of adoration between the two of you.

Back in your quarters, you changed into your sleep clothes and settled into bed. Propped against pillows with your data pad in hand, you intended to review the new data decryptions while waiting for Gregor's return, hoping he might have more enticing ways to keep you awake. But the warmth of your bed and the quiet hum of recycled air lulled you to sleep with surprising swiftness. Your eyes grew heavy, thoughts of him blurred behind your lids until you drifted off.

A short while later, you stirred from a light sleep when you felt the bed dip. With gentle hands, Gregor retrieved your fallen data pad and slid under the covers behind you. His strong arms enveloped you, drawing you against his chest.

"Stars, I've missed you, my darling," Gregor sighed into the space between you. Your eyes fluttered open as his lips pressed into the back of your shoulder, sending a thrill down your spine.

The familiar spicy scent of him filled your nose—he must have hit the fresher before coming to bed. You hummed contentedly and turned within his arms to face him, your lips curling into a sleepy smile. "Missed you too," you murmured.

Gregor's tired eyes were filled with warmth and adoration in the dim light. His hand gently cupped your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin. "Sorry I'm late..."

"S'okay," you leaned into his touch. "You're here now, and at least I know you're not just another dream," you said into his chest as you yawned.

Gregor's heart thrummed at your words. The thought of you dreaming about him stoked the ever-present desire he seemed to hold for you. "How's the burn?" he asked instead, softly moving his hand down, fingertips skimming over the fresh scars on your hip.

"All healed now. Rex was right, of course," you grumbled. The former captain had benched you from field work due to the blaster fire that grazed you on your last mission. Though you'd insisted it was healed enough, Rex wouldn't budge. You knew he was right, but being sidelined grated your nerves— especially since it was your intel they were operating on.

"You really scared me for a minute there, you know," Gregor whispered, his voice lilted with emotion as his fingers traced the newly healed scar.

You kissed the tip of his nose and gave him a knowing smile. "You should know better than anyone, love. It takes more than that to keep someone down," you murmured, covering his hand with your fingertips. A pitchy chuckle escaped him as he pressed his forehead to yours, recognizing the echo of his own resilient spirit in your words. But his face fell incrementally as he found his next words.

"I still wish you could have been there, on Kamino," he confessed, his voice solemn. He didn’t have to say anything, but you knew how strange returning to Kamino was going to be for him. He had his brothers with him, but you’d hoped to be there for him too.

"You just wanted a chance to see me in my swimming gear," you quipped instead.

Gregor's eyes sparkled as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth with a quiet rumble. "Can you blame me? Thinking of you in any state of undress was all I had to keep me sane out there," his words and lips danced against your cheek.

You squirmed in his embrace as his hand trailed up and down your body, fingertips once again sweeping over the swell of your hip. "But I always love seeing my cyare like this…" he added, his warm hand giving you a playful squeeze, referring to the teeny tiny shorts you often wore around your shared quarters, just for him.

“Oh? And why is that?” You said with a raised eyebrow, feigning ignorance at how his eyes would habitually follow you around whenever you wore them. Not to mention the mischief he would promise when he saw you wearing any of his clothing, and tonight you had grabbed one of his shirts to sleep in.

“Because it’s what you’re comfortable in,” he sighed contentedly as his fingers slipped under the hem, grazing the soft skin at the small of your back.

Being under his focus with such reverence made your heart pound in your ears, his magnetic touch constantly drawing you in. Your fingers traced the line of his jaw. "Will you just kiss me, already?" you whispered, forgetting your teasing.

Gregor hummed as his lips met yours, sweet and gentle, his hands rediscovering every curve and contour. You melted into his radiating warmth, the steady rhythm of his heart. When you nibbled his bottom lip, it earned you a deep moan and a roll of his body against yours. Your fingers wove through his damp hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, his tongue moving softly against yours.

Your lips danced together in a sensual rhythm, exploring and tasting with unhurried devotion as his fingers threaded through your hair, cradling the back of your head. Each sweep of his tongue against yours sent shivers down your spine, the kiss deepening with an intensity that made your toes curl and your heart race. Through every tender touch, he conveyed how deeply he'd missed you, and a familiar heat had bloomed between you fueled by days of delayed desire. The warmth of it coursed through your veins, spurring you on.

Eager to feel his skin against yours, you tugged off your shirt and pushed at his. Gregor chuckled softly and obliged, pulling off his shirt with deliberate slowness before tossing it aside. Under your fingertips, his body felt electric as you traced the familiar scars adorning his soft, golden skin. A shiver ran through him at your touch, and he groaned when your lips found his shoulder.

"Darling, I need you…" he purred, his thumbs hooking into the waistband of your shorts. His voice dropped lower, thick with desire. He paused, eyes intense and yearning as they locked with yours. "I've thought of you every night. Your kiss, your smile, the sounds you make for me." His fingers gripped your hips possessively, sure to leave marks. "Tell me, meshla," he breathed. "Did you think of me too?"

You let out a soft whine, your head falling against his chest as a breathy "Yes," escaped your swollen lips.

"Tell me..." he implored, his body rolling into yours once more. "Did I hear you say you dreamt of me?"

"Of course I did," you confessed softly, leaning close. Your lips brushed against the shell of his ear as intimate desires and details of your self-indulgent dreams tumbled from your lips. Gregor shivered, your warm breath tickling his skin. His fingers flexed as he strained to catch every hushed syllable. These whispered words were for him alone.

His chest rumbled with a deep, guttural sound. "Cyare," he whispered, the word dripping with honey.

You lifted your hips as he slid your shorts down your legs. Once free, he swooped in to kiss you again, this time with more fervor as his hands roamed your newly exposed skin. He swallowed the soft gasp that escaped your lips when his fingers dipped between your legs, growling appreciatively at how ready you were for him.

You whined at his touch, your fingertips curling around the base of his neck. Gregor sighed, his breath hot against your shoulder as he trailed kisses down to your collarbone. You heard him chuckling quietly as his fingers teased your sensitive flesh. "…and I’ve barely touched you yet,” he teased.

You huffed in response and started pushing his shorts over his hips, firmly grasping a handful of his taught backside in the process causing him to hoot and giggle softly. "I told you what I’ve been thinking about… come here…" you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. Once free of his own clothing, you hooked your leg around his waist, drawing him to you. Gregor hissed at the contact, his hips instinctively rocking against yours. You felt the head of his length glide along your entrance and up to your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

Gregor let out a deep hum, gathering his self control. "I can't say no to you," he grunted, slowly sliding his length back up and down a few times before notching at your entrance. His lips met your forehead as he eased into you. You bit your lip as your body welcomed him, eyebrows furrowing at the sudden fullness. Despite the delicious sting of him at first, you craved him—eager for more, for all of him. But Gregor picked up on your body’s signal and paused. His head came back to regard you, eyes filled with concern and love.

"Cyar'ika," he whispered tenderly. His thumb traced your cheek and trailed down to your lips. You smirked, drawing the digit into your mouth with a soft moan, swirling your tongue around it. Gregor's eyes locked onto yours, awestruck at the sensation. "That's it…good girl," he purred, the wolfish smile that followed his praise sent a shiver down your spine. He withdrew his thumb from your mouth with a quiet pop, and brought it between your bodies, using the wetness to circle your clit.

Your body quivered, soft moans and whimpers escaping your lips as he continued his feather light touches, sending more of that delicious heat coursing through you. Your walls fluttered with pleasure, silently urging him to fully sheath himself within you. As his hips finally met yours, you both exhaled deeply, savoring the intense connection of being completely joined together.

"Let’s stay like this for a little while, hm?," he murmured against your hairline between soft kisses. "I just want you close," he breathed, his hand trailing tenderly along your spine.

You hummed in confirmation, melting into his affection. "I love you," you sighed, fingers combing through his hair. Your bodies fit together perfectly, hearts beating as one, breaths mingling in gentle pants. Being with Gregor, it never felt like enough—you both craved an impossible closeness. These tender moments were precious, when he held you like this, driven by his pure need to feel you around him, to eliminate any space between you.

"And I love you." Gregor's kiss was so tender it made your head swim. His lips traced reverently across your skin, each caress a silent vow, his heart full at how perfectly you melded together. When the kisses and touches naturally grew more heated, you felt him stir within you as your bodies instinctively began to move. With gentle purpose, Gregor rolled you, pressing your back into the mattress and caging you in with his large frame. His lips found that spot on your neck as he began a slow, intense rhythm that drew a litany of soft moans and whimpers from you. Your nails trailed down Gregor's back as he pressed against that sweet spot deep inside you. He dragged his length almost completely out before thrusting back in, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"Stars… cyar’ika, you…" he panted, his movements becoming more deliberate. You wrapped your legs around him fully, urging him deeper, whimpering in is ear to do it again. The tension between you reached its peak all too quickly, weeks of anticipation setting your every nerve ending on fire. Gregor murmured sweet praises against your skin, intent on bringing you there together. You teetered on the edge, your body trembling with each slow thrust. "Gregor," you breathed in a desperate plea. "I'm..."

“I know,” he grunted. “I’ve got you…” He gentled his movements to a pace he knew would send you over. He felt your entire body tense, arching into him as your climax struck you with a sudden intensity. A shuddering moan escaped you as your hand in his hair tightened, tugging at the strands. He couldn't hold back any longer—the way your walls fluttered around him, squeezing him so tightly, your grip in his hair, the sounds you were making—it was all too much, and he gladly fell over the edge with you.

His hips jerked as he moaned your name, pressing flush against yours as he found his release inside you. You held him close while you both trembled and panted through waves of pleasure. His hips rolled gently against yours through the aftershocks. As the hazy bliss settled over you both, Gregor began dotting your face and neck with tender kisses.

“Gregor…” you protested lazily, lips curling in a fond smile. He always melted into his softest self in the afterglow.

He chuckled quietly, nuzzling your neck. "What? You know I can’t ever get enough of you…" His lips brushed against your skin, making you tremble slightly. You were grinning ear to ear now, despite your half-hearted protest.

“That makes two of us,” you said huskily, floating down from your high.

You lay tangled together in peaceful silence, your breathing and heartbeats gradually returning to normal. The gentle rise and fall of his chest against yours created a soothing rhythm that made you feel completely at ease. A while later, when your combined arousal began to slip down your thigh, Gregor shifted, preparing to retrieve something to clean you both up.

“Don't you dare," you warned teasingly, tightening your entire body around him, making his breath hitch.

“Cyar’ika…” he said in a low, playful voice, twitching inside you. “Careful now…”

You smirked, loving the way his voice dropped an octave. "Or what?" you challenged, your eyes gleaming with mischief.

Gregor chuckled, a predatory grin spreading across his face. "Oh, my darling," he chuckled lightly, his hand sliding down your body and gripping your ass, making you burst into giggles, "You love playing with fire, don’t you,"

"Mmm, I do when it encourages you to ravish me all night, love," you said with a dramatic flair, unable to hide the mirth from your voice, reminding you of the intimacy you’ve built with Gregor. It was fiery and magnetic, but always fun. You loved to push each other’s buttons to see how far you could go. After all, you cherished these quiet moments together when there was no need to rush.

Gregor groaned at your words, his grip on you intensifying. "Oh, you're in for it now," he rasped as he swiftly rolled onto his back, pulling you over with him to straddle his hips. He sat upright and curled his hand around the base of your neck, pulling you into a searing kiss. The sound that escaped you at this new angle was absolutely sinful, making him twitch inside you once again. He immediately began a gentle pace, guiding your hips into his shallow thrusts. You gripped his shoulders tightly, seeking an anchor amid the electricity firing deep within you. Your oversensitive bundle of nerves dragged against the base of his length, making you grind down on him more desperately.

Sensing your growing urgency, Gregor gently slowed your movements. His hands caressed your sides soothingly as he looked up at you with adoration. "Shhh cyar'ika, look at me…" he murmured, his voice low and tender. Your eyes fluttered open to gaze into his, dark and warm and focused on you. "I know, it feels so good." His voice strained, thumbs traced circles on your hips as he guided you back into that slower, more deliberate rhythm Gregor loved to torture you with. You whimpered at the change of pace, but soon found yourself melting into the languid, sensual motion. Gregor's eyes never left your face, enjoying watching you give in. "That's it, just feel," he whispered. "There’s no rush. I’ve got you…"

Gregor's movements periodically slowed to a halt, prolonging the intense pleasure building between you. Each time, he held you close, guiding you both toward that long-awaited peak. His arm snaked beneath you, holding you to him with effortless strength, preventing you from taking him completely. He knew exactly how much to give, bringing you to the edge over and over. He savored the sounds you made during the slow, frustrating dance, careful not to overstimulate as he kept you balanced on the edge of a knife.

Your body trembled, every nerve ending alive and hypersensitive, your breaths came in short, desperate moans. You clung to him, nails digging into his back and his scalp as you fought against the overwhelming urge to let go, somewhere between savoring every exquisite moment of him inside you and every cell in your body screaming for release. Gregor felt your body go rigid and quiver, he glanced down noticing how tightly your toes were curled, then up to your eyes squeezed shut in concentration.

"Cyar'ika, what's your color?" he managed to say through the haze. He himself was hanging by a thread.

"Green," you groaned gently. "Please, I need..."

Gregor's eyes snapped open at your words, his grip on you stuttering. "Tell me what you need," he nearly growled. "I need to hear you say it, cyar'ika."

“Please...” you breathed. “I need to come."

With a low groan of approval, Gregor knew he’d pushed you to a new limit, and captured your lips in a soft kiss, slowly lowering you down fully onto his length once more. "Then come for me, my love, let go…" he murmured against your lips as he loosened his hold on you incrementally, encouraging you to writhe against him at your own pace. He swallowed the moans that escaped your throat as you did so, your fingers tangling in his hair again as you finally let yourself go.

He held you to him as your body shook, waves of ecstasy sweeping through you, your inner walls pulsing wildly around Gregor's length. He buried his face in your shoulder, his own climax following yours as he thrust himself deep inside with a low, guttural sound. You clung to each other, riding out the lingering tremors, your core gradually relaxing its grip on him. Hearts raced and chests heaved as you both savored the moment. With one more gentle rock of his hips, he pulled you down, creating a delicious pressure that sent one final, intense ripple of pleasure coursing through you, reducing whatever composure you had left and turning you into a whimpering mess.

“Thats it,” he soothed as you collapsed against him, head lolling forward as he secured you against his broad chest. You hummed contentedly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck as your breathing slowly steadied. Gregor's fingers continued their gentle caress along your skin, calming your tense muscles and fluttering heart.

“You did so well,” he praised. “We haven’t gone that long before,” he grinned at you, giggling softly, a sheen of sweat on his skin.

You chuckled softly, feeling an ache in your hips and knees. "Mmm, I think we both needed that," you murmured, wincing slightly as you shifted your legs around his frame.

“Here, I’ve got you,” he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips as he helped you shift positions, knowing your joints sometimes didn’t love it as much as you did.

His strong arms cradled you as he maneuvered you off him, finally slipping out and eliciting a soft sigh from you. He bit his lip, barely suppressing a groan as he glanced at the evidence of your passion. Once you were settled, he quickly jumped out of bed and disappeared into the fresher, returning moments later with a warm cloth.

His fingertips trailed up the outside of your knee, reminding you he was still there. You smiled and opened up for him to gently clean you up. His touch was tender as he took care of both of you. Once finished, he tossed the towel aside and crawled back onto the bed and got to work on massaging the soreness from your legs.

You sighed contentedly as Gregor's skilled hands worked out the tension in your joints. "You're too good to me," you murmured sleepily. He responded with a soft chuckle, his touch gentle yet firm as he eased away any lingering discomfort. “Love, I know you’re exhausted, come here…”

He chuckled and planted tender kisses on each knee before settling beside you, drawing you close against his chest. You nestled into his warmth, savoring the lazy patterns he traced on your back with his fingertips.

You tilted your head up to press a gentle kiss beneath his chin, savoring the closeness. “I’m so happy you’re home…”

Gregor sighed contentedly. “Me too.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should bring up his time on Kamino. The topic always felt delicate, and you didn't want to stir up difficult memories. But his peaceful expression gave you courage.

“How was it being back there?" you asked softly.

“Well, the first few days were…strange, but not in the way I thought they would be,” he confessed quietly.

“How so?” You pressed a chaste kiss to the side of his neck, absentmindedly inhaling his scent.

“Some clones considered Kamino their home, but I’ve never really felt more at home than I do here. With the underground. With you.” His voice stuttered on the last few words.

You felt your heart swell, and you pulled him closer, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Good, because I feel the same way…”

Gregor's arm tightened around you, and you felt him release another contented sigh against your hair. In this moment, everything felt exactly as it should be - no missions, no war, just the two of you finding solace in each other's arms. You held one another close, happy to be back in one another’s orbit.

"Darling..." Gregor's voice took on a somber tone as he tightened his arms around you. "I received new orders from Rex tonight." He paused as you tilted your head back to look at him, his expression serious. You felt your body tense, preparing for the worst. "And, well, it’s not just that," he continued, his lips curving into a frown.

“What is it?” your hand brushed his disheveled hair out of his eyes, your heart clenching at the thought of him being gone again so soon, without you. Rex had yet to clear you for your injury, and you felt your stomach drop at the thought of being left behind on base again for another mission.

Gregor took a deep breath, as if to steady himself. "I know it's short notice, but... I told Rex you’d have no problem shipping out by midday tomorrow..." He gazed at you intently, his trademark mischievous smirk betraying his attempt at a somber expression. He was a terrible liar.

Your eyebrows shot up at the realization.

Now his face was in a full grin. "Mhm...you’re coming with." He quipped. “Though I’m sure Rex wouldn’t mind if you wanted to stay behi—”

“No!” you trilled, propping yourself up onto your elbow. “I’m ready,” you insisted.

“You don’t even know what the mission is yet, love,” he chuckled, it was hard to resist mirroring your excitement.

“I don’t care,” you sighed. “I’ve been cooped up…it’s boring when everyone is gone,” you groaned.

“Don’t you mean it’s boring when I’m gone?” Gregor teased.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't hide your smile. "Maybe," you admitted, snuggling back into him. "But don't let it go to your head." Your fingers traced lazy patterns on his chest as you soaked up the warmth of his presence, grateful to soon be back to doing what you do best.

Gregor laughed softly, his chest rumbling beneath your fingertips. "Have we met?," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. As you lay there, wrapped in each other's embrace, a sleepy silence settled over you both. The anticipation of being briefed for tomorrow's mission hummed just beneath the surface, but for now, you were content to simply exist in this moment.

“You’re a terrible liar, by the way…” you said as you curled into him. He just chuckled softly as you let your eyes close, feeling the tendrils of sleep start to curl around you.

Soon, the familiar weight of Gregor's body and gentle rhythm of his breathing lulled you into a peaceful state. His fingers continued their soothing caress along your back, growing slower and more languid as sleep began to claim him too. The last thing you remembered before surrendering was the gentle press of Gregor's lips against your forehead and his whispered "Ner cyare..." You mumbled a sleepy response, already half-lost to dreams of tomorrow's adventures.

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moonflower91 · 6 months ago

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i need more saerah!!! (im begging you 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️)

Ask, and I will! (takes place directly after season 2 episode 8)

The Queen Dowager's Daughter

It began as a whisper, a rumor whispered to her closely by one of the Kingsguard at the Council table. She only sat at it, listening to the dwindling members of their Small Council, because Aemond instead chose to rage at his own humiliation and her mother had taken ill.

Or so she’d been told by Maester Orwyle. She had no reason to question him, for what reason could there be?

But, her mother’s ladies maids told differently, that the Queen Dowager could not be found, not in the Keep nor the Great Sept, (though the entire royal family had avoided the place since that wretched riot). Quietly, she had them look elsewhere, to the kitchens and rookeries and library and gardens, but still, the Queen Dowager was not found.

Saerah kept her face tight, and calm, casting a look about the table. She would not fret, not before these men, not while she was alone. Truly, she had no one. Aegon was abed, and her husband was away on Vhagar.

Only two remained of their once strong council…the rest had gone, to the sickbed or to war, or even banished, like her poor grandfather. But, her eyes remained fixed on Maester Orwyle, watching as his hands worried themselves together, his eyes locked on anything but the Prince Regent’s wife. Only two moons past, he had been the one to confirm that her husband’s seed had taken root, and now she watched him, heart growing sick with suspicion.

Who else must they lose in this war? Already, Otto and Aegon and Criston and half of Aegon’s guardsmen to the Wall. The commonfolk’s loyalty was starting to waver in the face of starvation thanks to Rhaenyra, and yet it was the Greens they blamed.

“You look uncomfortable, Grand Maester.” She noted, straightening in her chair–the king’s chair, which had previously been held by her husband, and before that, her mother. “Could it be the same illness of the belly you found in my mother?” She tilted her head, and with a strike of fear, Maester Orwyle saw how much like her brother-husband she looked. Sharp and dangerous, like a cat who plays with their prey well before striking the killing blow. He knew well it would not serve him to lie to her a second time. But the truth laid thick on his tongue.

“Your Grace, I...I have served House Targaryen under the service of the Hightowers for two generations.”

“Yes, you have. You have our thanks, and more directly, you have mine.” And that was true, she did feel grateful for his service. The man had always been kind to her, and he had attended her mangled brother most diligently and saved his life, however shortened it might be now. “And I do not doubt your good intentions. But I ask you, where is my mother?”

----------------------

It was nearly a fortnight since Alicent’s retreat to Dragonstone, and the moment Saerah heard of a ship arriving in the harbor, a woman with rich brown hair and a fine blue cloak aboard, Saerah found herself watching from the battlements. She watched the ship breaking into the bay, slowing its sail towards the docks, rooting itself to the iron moors, its passengers disembarking. The scowl never left her face.

Saerah waited a day and night to see her fool mother, part of her not wanting to look upon her for fear of what unkindness may escape her mouth, the other, wanting the Queen Dowager to wonder what Saerah might be plotting.

When she finally arrived at Alicent’s chambers, she ordered her maids to leave without any preamble. Then, she asked where she had taken off without her permission to go.

“I am your mother, girl, you do not allow me to do anything.” Although her words were harsh, Alicent’s voice carried a softness, a weariness that sunk deep into her bones. But Saerah was past caring, already stretched a hundred different ways without Aemond here to take the half of it.

“You are my mother and I am acting ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. And we are at war. You do not leave the bedchamber without my permission.” The room was quiet, the air thick. Alicent looked at her as though she were a stranger and did not answer at once like a lesser person might.

“I went to Rhaenyra. To broker a deal of peace between our families. This war will consume us all before it is over. It must end now, before we are all destroyed.”

“What?” Saerah murmured, too struck to truly utter anything else. A long while passed them in silence, Alicent watched warily as her daughter paced. She had always thought her youngest girl was soft and sweet, but truly, she had just as much fire as her brother. “What was said?”

“Rhaenyra will take Kings Landing, and we will allow her.” She said at last, the truth hanging heavy on her heart. “Aemond will see the war lost and surrender.”

“He would rather die in attempting to take Kings Landing back.” Saerah replied.

“He is not a fool. He must see to reason if he wants to live to see his child born.” Saerah’s hand went to her belly then, and she stepped farther away from Alicent, as though to protect her middle.

“How are we to trust you now, mother? You’ve gone to treat our enemies, alone spouting off gods know what to that bitch.” It was unbecoming of a woman of her station to use such coarse language, but Saerah was past caring for genteel words, especially about the woman she’d come to hate. “You know she means to kill us all, Aegon and Aemond at the very least. Your own sons, that you carried and birthed.”

Alicent’s silence cut through like a knife.

“You do know that don’t you? Did you…did you try to stay her hand at all?” More silence, and Saerah’s heart broke in a way she had never thought possible. “You didn’t.” Horror rose like bile within Saerah. “You…you agreed to let that woman kill my brother, already laying broken in his bed, and my husband too?”

“I agreed to an arrangement that will end the pain and bloodshed being wrought throughout the lands. Amongst the smallfolk and our family.”

“By taking the heads of even more members of our family? Was Jaehaerys not enough!? Do you hate your own children that much? I know Father humiliated you for twenty years, but I never thought that anger and resentment would bleed down to your own children!”

“It has–it has not.” Alicent pleaded, her voice choked and tears welling in her eyes. Still, she would not face Saerah, not yet. “I love all of my children with all my heart, and would fight to the last to defend them.”

“Except you haven’t! That bitch will march on us soon, and I doubt the blood of little Jaehaerys will have been enough to slake her desire for blood.” Saerah shook her head, turned away from her mother, muttering as she did. “No, no, she is proud and arrogant, wanting Aemond tortured for saying what we all know is the truth about her litter of brown haired mongrels.” She turned back to her mother. “She will kill us all in our beds! Cut my babe from my womb!”

“It will not come to that. There is time still before then, for Rhaenyra to change her mind.”

“You have such faith in that woman, that woman just a year past you named a whore with naught but bastards and ill-sired trueborns. How quickly the winds change when the object of your hatred is gone and only his forgotten children remain.”

“I do.” The Queen Dowager’s head snapped to face her daughter, but even then, her eyes were filled with a sadness none could heal. “I do love you. Just as much as I love Aegon. And Aemond. As much as Helaena and Daeron. Each of you owns a piece of my heart.”

Saerah sighed. Somehow, her vow made her heart ache even more, so much so that to cut the damned organ out would have been kinder. “And yet you toss us aside for what? Peace?” She sneered the word like a vile curse. “What peace will you know once all your children are dead? Daemon and Rhaenyra and even foolish, sullen little Jacerys cannot allow us to live to challenge them. It is as you always said. Always told us, and now it will come to pass.”

“Rhaenyra is not cruel. She will turn to reason, to cease further pain. She is her father’s daughter.”

“She is also Daemon’s wife. The man who beat a woman to death with his bare hands. Mercy will not come for Aegon, nor for Aemond. You know this well, you’ve been talking about it my entire life and before. And me and Helaena, who bore our husbands children? They will either kill us quietly or sell us to the lowest bidder. We shall be forced into other men’s beds, either far from court or forced to suffer beneath the eyes of those who once called paid us deference as princesses and queens.”

Alicent turned away. Her daughter had just spoken all the fears she had no heart to put into words and it broke her heart. The faith she had in Rhaenyra and her promises were all she had left to cling to. What she must cleave to so she could believe her choices, the sacrifices she had made, would be worth the cost. All she wanted for her family, her daughters and their children at the very least, was the chance to live in peace until they were old and gray, far from Court, far from dangers and plots and marriages they did not want.

In this hope, there existed something sweet, something fresh and pure that she had not tasted since she was a girl. Freedom.

But what if her faith failed her once more? Well, Saerah had already laid bare what could be expected then.

“You say you love us, that each of us owns a part of your heart. But it is Rhaenyra who owns the whole of it isn’t she? That is why you hated her so long, because you loved her still”.

“I love you, daughter. I may not always have loved you as you deserved, and I have many failings to my name, but do not doubt that you, and your brothers and sister, own more of my heart than any other in this world.” Finally, Alicent turned to her child, her little Saerah, softly swelling with her own child. She had always worn her hair down, she noted then. Her silver hair brushed the very top of her belly, and gave her a sweet look of innocence about her. Even her eyes, which were filled with sadness and tears, held a softness about them, a child full of assurance from their mother.

Alicent wanted to feel happy, to feel proud of the woman she’d grown into. But truly, she had no hand in it. Saerah had grown into a woman without her, but always she would remember the first moment she’d heard her cry. The first moment she held her in her arms. The first moment the little babe smiled up at her.

Her baby, her daughter. And now the woman that babe had become looked at her with such malice, like she wished to burn Alicent with the dragon flame all the Targaryens wielded as threat and sword.

“You are no mother of mine.” Saerah whispered, her eyes welling with tears. When she spoke next, her words sounded strangled as she struggled to talk past the lump in her throat. “My child will not die for your weakness. Or, rather worse, your foolish love for that woman. A childhood fantasy you value so much more than the children you brought forth into this world. Rhaenrya, at least, stood unyielding in defending her bastards. But you, you abandon your true born sons and daughters so easily for her.” Saerah shook her head, as though shaking away the hurt as a duck does to water from its wing. “You understand then, why it is so easy to think you hate us?”

Alicent drew in a shaking breath, and reached for Saerah as the younger woman rushed past her towards the door. “Saerah…”

“Guards! Take my mother and have her confined to chambers.” At that, the men stopped and shifted from foot to foot, looking between the Queen Mother and her daughter.

“Your Grace? She’s the queen…”

“Queen Dowager. No more important than a common lady of the court. I am the Prince Regent’s wife, who has left me to rule in his stead while he is gone from the Capitol.” Already tired, already angry and hurt, she stepped closer to the young man, fixing him with a cold, hollow look that made him turn his eyes downward. Still, Saerah did not relent. “I am ordering you to confine her to chambers for crimes against the Crown. If you hesitate again, I will make His Grace’s treatment of the worm that took his son’s life appear as mercy.” This time, the young man did not hesitate to take the former queen’s arm in hand and pull her towards the door.

Alone once more, Saerah rested her hands on the table, letting her head drop but forced away the tears. No use weeping for a traitor. Had she been anyone else, Vexxa would have burned her. But what moral could be raised if she burned her own mother alive?

---------

“I know you do not wish to burn anyone. I ask not that of you. But I beg you, take Dreamfyre to flight, go to Aemond, and all I ask you tell him I beg for his return.” Helaena only looked at her, neither annoyed nor angry and Saerah continued on. "The maester says I cannot fly in my condition. And someone must be here to control the masses. Please, please Helaena."

#asoiaf #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #saerah targaryen #aemond targaryen x sister!OC #alicent hightower #2x08 #season 2

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