#nyra imagine
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willowbirds · 21 days ago
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A little Human Nyra for all y’all!
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alicentflorent · 6 months ago
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You think you’ve written a feminist show that highlights the misogyny faced by women in a feudalistic society but then you make both your female leads motivations for power to be “because my daddy said so!”
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kingcunny · 5 months ago
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the hand wrapped around the back of viserys head like hes so close just tilt his head up turn him just kiss him hes RIGHT THERE KISS HIM……
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masked-alien-lesbian · 1 year ago
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I love them so much! 🖤🖤🖤🖤
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dulcewrites · 2 years ago
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i just binged the entire fmo fic last night and i had to give you some love for it because it’s my new favourite thing. the characterisation is incredible and i loved the way you progressed the story; also the little hints of reader kinda becoming a bit angry and unstable but still being a strong and complex character in her own right is so cool. just everything about it is so so good, sending kisses <3
Thank you so much 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽. “Becoming unstable” made me laugh. That’s truly pookie for life. I’m so glad y’all see her in the way do. Sometimes it can be a bit difficult to write it bc I want reader to have the space to have some agency while also being very realistic about the life/death circumstances and the very patriarchal world she lives in. It makes her do “good” and “bad” things
Anyway here’s a little sneak peak at part 10 👀
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lightningandfireinmybones · 2 years ago
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Nyra can't what she hates more - Valaena dating Alicents son or Valaena dating Alicents look a like
Both, the answer is both
Nyra considering whether she still wants to be an ally to Valaena when she insists on her throuple being with Myra’s own gay nightmare: an out look a like of her childhood crush AND the result of said crushes forced heterosexual marriage
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madame-fear · 1 year ago
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SALMON CREAM CHEESE ON DAEMON’s BAGEL COCK
FOR SOME REASON I READ THIS AND RAM RANCH IMMEDIATLY STARTED PLAYING IN THE BACK OF MY HEAD HELP MEEEE
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darkstaria · 6 months ago
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Yandere Batfam - Soulmate Soul Animal AU.
Chapter 4:
Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 5.
This chapter is brought to you by myyyyyyy🎉birthday🎉 woohoo 🥳 I hath aged
It's a little bit shorter, but I mean come on it's a unique chapter soooo it's cool guys I swear
Lots more Batfam content this time, albeit Tim centric. I'll balance it out in the future I swear! Also it's still platonic, but you could probably get a romantic reading from this a lil bit if you try
Taglist: @moonchild-artemisdaughter @jjsmeowthie @madine11-blog @xxrougefangxx @hadesnewpersephone @neerathebrightstar @mel-star636 @jaythes1mp @rosecentury @lov3vivian @gaozorous-rex-blog @victoria1676 @vrsin @silverklaus @ryukyuin @kurai-hono-blog @thisisafish123 @isawyourbrowserhistory @ain-t-no-way-bsfr @realifezompire @lunaluz432 @nickey-diano @sukiiluvs @sara0055 @alleakimlala @kdidgg @paperhermits @lavender-moony @alishii @emmbny @sirenetheblogger @fantasy-angelo @andrasia @vinnvinnvintage @nyra-42 @armystaysatnct @beyond-your-stars @starsdotalk @adeptusxia0
----
A few days have passed since your encounter with Red Robin. He hasn't shown up since, but another thing has.
Your work had sent you an email. An invitation to Wayne Enterprises, to represent them. According to them, your location was the closest to Wayne Enterprises, and so you were selected. You lived 50 minutes away from Wayne Enterprises. Their home office was 30 minutes away. You weren't sure who was doing the math here, but they needed some more practice.
That being said, you could notice a pattern when there was one. This was Tim Drake's attempt to get you out of your home. And unfortunately, it was going to work. You needed your job. It was perfect, remote, didn't bother you as long as you got the work done. Jobs like that were rare, especially in Gotham.
Not for the first time, you kinda felt like crying.
If Red Robin, your soulmate, was indeed Tim Drake, then what was this? Did he have you figured out? Or was he continuing the investigation?
You didn't know...
Refusing to show up would get you fired. There was no way around that. But, what if you couldn't go?
What if you were too injured to go? There's no way you could fake something, the bats are quite literally master detectives. That and your soul animal form would likely reveal the uninjured truth.
Maybe if you injured yourself?
No, no no no. That was a bad route to go down. If this meeting is to check whether you are soulmates with him, a matching injury on your soul animal form would be like a criminal and a suspect having the same tattoo.
There wasn't really any option here. Which, really, is just typical for the vigilantes of Gotham.
"Ughhh." You groaned to yourself, cradling your hands with your head. You glared over at Red, who had been showing up much more frequently these past few days (which was saying something, since all your soul animals were already by you 23/7). Red gave a small chirp in reply, some sort of smugness in its tone.
Maybe it was time to invest in wind chimes or something. You heard they can scare off robins.
You felt like you were going to need it.
~ ~ ~ ~
Tim's developed something of a guilty habit.
It wasn't a bad thing, per se. Nothing B would particularly frown at. Dick might even agree.
He imagined you wouldn't quite feel the same, though.
You looked especially fragile, as you slept. During the day your face was haunted by false bravado, a paranoid edge to every smile. Sleep smoothed out the lines of your face, giving a softer touch to your slumbering form.
You frown when he reaches out to poke your cheek. It's cute. His hand twitches for his camera. You're always cute, whether it's a small little frown on your face or beaming joy.
He's developed a new favorite activity. Alongside solving cases, he's now watching you. He wants to observe it all. From little habits to obvious passions, he wants to know everything. Hobbies, skills, loves, DNA. He'd only just found you, the answer to the mystery that he's been in since birth. He's had a lot of time to build up this obsession.
He wants and wants and needs. He can wait to take.
You are a light sleeper, but he's a quiet stalker. You don't always drink milk before bed, but when you do, you'll get a little more tired than usual. Your groggy face is cute, too.
He reached out, stroking your hair with the slightest of a smile beginning on his face. It was soft. It reminded him of you, your soul animal form. It had flinched away from him earlier, as it always does whenever they were in uniform. Finding that you do the same as a human wasn't so surprising.
They had adapted to your soul form’s skittishness. They could do the same again. His mind briefly flashed through some ideas, an ankle bracelet, a watch, a collar? If it was on the ankle, you'd match.
He broke out of his musings at the shift of movement. A flutter of wings. B’s soul animal flew down perching on a piece of furniture nearby as a vantage point. He smirked. Looked like he wasn't the only one feeling a little possessive tonight.
He must've been thinking of you. Not surprising, given that your soul form was scheduled time with him today. They had to work out a schedule, else there would have been a lot more stabbings. Not that it didn't prevent sudden abductions occasionally, thanks Jason.
That was fine though. B could have you tonight, Damian could have you tomorrow, Dick the next. Because Tim had the real you, right here.
And he wasn't planning on letting go.
There's a room he's preparing inside Drake manor. He’d put your name on it, but that would be too obvious if anyone came around. Instead, it would be his little secret with you. He's only just met you, but he has plenty of ideas for it already.
He didn't feel guilty for this. Not at all.
You were his as much as he was yours after all. If there was a problem with these feelings, then why would fate itself tie you to him?
If anything, the only guilt he’d feel is not telling anyone else. He couldn't help it, he just wanted you to himself for a while. He caught you, so he was allowed to have you.
But was that really guilt? Or just annoyance at the idea of getting caught?
An alert on his communicator made him frown, taking him out of the trance he had felt into. There was more he had to do.
A shame, but it was fine. He got to spend some quality time with you, taken a few things for the future. He’d make more time. And you'll have all the time in the world for him. But first…
Tim withdrew a specialty camera from his utility belt, raising it to his face. He adjusted a few settings, then…
Snap!
~ ~ ~ ~
You fought the urge to yawn. You have been so sleepy lately. You had to wake up especially early for today. Lovely.
At least today was the moment of truth. You'd show Red Robin for once and for all that you were perfectly normal, and not at all his soulmate. He’d lose interest, and your life would return to its domesticity.
The one good thing going for today was that you're somehow accompanied by none of your soul animals. A truly rare occasion that is ruined by the fact that you're instead visiting a soulmate in the flesh. If any of your soul animals do show up, you have your old reliable bag to shove them into. So, you should be alright.
Wayne Enterprises was a terrifying image, but you steadied yourself with the fact that your whole life’s freedom was at stake here, which was much more terrifying. After that you could get through the door. Security just letting you through after giving your name almost had you running out the door though, you'd admit.
The elevator ride was long and solemn, giving you time to think about everything. Maybe you should think about moving, staying in Gotham was perhaps a ridiculous sentiment to begin with. It was a shame though, you were a Gothamite through and through, you didn't want to leave the country your parents lived and raised you in.
Still, perhaps it was time to leave. Things were getting too risky. Thinking about it, Wayne Enterprises? Honesty what even was your life.
The ding of the elevator door interrupts your musings, an assistant directing you to Tim Drake’s office.
As you walk over, you can't help but listen in to some shouting coming from the room.
A younger voice is yelling. “Give me them! You do not deser-” The voice gets cut off, as an older voice yells back. “It is my turn, you do not get to just steal them!”
The younger voice starts up again, but so does the older voice, alongside what you can only presume to be fighting noises.
You just kinda stare at the door. You are a working professional, representing your company to the prestigious Wayne Enterprises. You came here with lofty expectations and responsibilities to fulfill. And the CEO… is fighting someone in his office.
You have no idea what to do.
A minute passes.
You started to think about signaling an assistant to come help, but before you could do so the fighting seemed to end with a shouted “Fine! But B will hear about-” you can't hear the rest, as the shouting returns to a normal volume.
A door is opened and slammed, footsteps retreating away from the office. You take a moment to appreciate the fact that Tim Drake’s office has two doors that lead in different places, because it means you didn't have to meet whoever he was fighting.
A second or two later, the door in front of you swings open. Tim Drake is facing you, his hair a little askew, and his cheeks a little red. He smiles, an easy thing. It's as if the sight of you brought it to his face.
“Welcome!” He waves you in, somehow not acknowledging what you just heard in any form. The objects in his office are perfectly aligned. Nothing looks disturbed at all. How?
He waves you over to a chair, settling into one himself.
“Well.” He begins. “It's nice to see you again, Y/n."
You hope this goes by quickly.
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pumpkinfyre · 3 months ago
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Being Rhaenyra's Only Daughter and Heir
Yandere House of the Dragon/Bastard! Velaryon! Reader
warnings: yandere content, platonic yandere, romantic yandere, reader is based on my oc naelys velaryon, but is a reader insert for inclusiveness, protective mama nyra, readers father is cole, hubby! aegon, daemon
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RHAENYRA, who adores her baby girl! Oh, she would waltz around the Red Keep with her baby in her arms, showing the little Valyrian bundle of joy to anyone who crossed pathes with her. Her daughter, I imagine, would be the product of her time with Ser Cole, and while they no longer were close, and Criston seems to despise Rhaenyra now, she holds nothing but love for her precious daughter. Rhaenyra is very protective of her babies, but moreso of her daughter. Society is cruel to little girls, and she knows this very well. During the Dance, Rhaenyra became increasingly paranoid because her baby was stuck in Kings Landing. Her ultimate fear is losing (Name), and they are separated after the death of Viserys.
DAEMON is (Name)'s stepfather, and while she doesn't seem to like him very well, he holds a great fondness for her, as though she were his own daughter. He isn't very adequate as a father, and he often comes off as annoying and cocky, but he loves (Name) dearly! There is a theory that Daemon and Rhaenyra had Laenor killed so they could be together, and she hears these whispers. (Name) tries to keep a distance between her and Daemon, but he almost pushes himself into her life. As soon as Daemon and Rhaenyra marry, he starts to refer to himself as (Name)'s father, and this makes her upset because she still grieves Laenor.
JACAERYS, LUCERYS, AND LITTLE JOFF love their big sister! She's so wise and beautiful, and she dotes on them all like little ducklings. Jace is only a few years younger than (Name), so he takes on an almost protective role towards his sister. I imagine she's soft-spoken and sweet, much like Aemma was, so Jace feels like he needs to watch over her to make sure that no one corrupts his dear elder sister. Lucerys depends on (Name) for emotional support, as he's rather insecure. Both Lucerys and Joffrey follow her around and look up to (Name). I imagine she'd be especially close with little Joff, as he often clings to her like a suckerfish.
AEGON is (Name)'s husband and father of her children. Viserys marry them to each other in a bleak attempt to mend the differences between Alicent and Rhaenyra. It doesn't work, obviously, but Aegon is absolutely whipped for his wifey. He follows her around like a lost puppy and is willing to do whatever is necessary to keep her at his side. Once the war begins and their first son is murdered, Aegon becomes paranoid and forces his wife into isolation, for her own good, he says. He holds a hard disdain for her mother and tries several times to turn her against Rhaenyra. Aegon really just wants to take his wifey and babies to essos to life peacefully, but he knows he can't.
CRISTON COLE is (Name)'s true father, and despite holding disdain for Rhaenyra, he yearns to be close to his daughter. As a knight, Criston knows that he will never have a wife, nor will he ever become a father to happy children. He knowingly gave all of that away when he said his vows. Alas, Rhaenyra's pride and joy is a living reminder of his shame. She is innocent, sweet, and honorable, everything Criston is not. The pain of having to watch his child being raised by two different men kills Cole, as all he yearns for is to cradle her in his arms like any father would. Once the Dance begins, Criston fights with dedication. The dedication of a father.
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the reader is based on my oc Naelys Velaryon from my fic 'prisoner of vows' (≡・x・≡)
masterlist ᡣ𐭩
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novaursa · 4 months ago
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okk hear me out!
gwayne x daemon daughter // kink repro
We all remember the tournament in s1, just imagine viserys decide that his niece (who is younger than nyra maybe 16) should marry sir gwayne to make more strength between their houses.
time pass they fell in love in oldtown and they raided Daeron as their own. They all come back when Luke was name heir of drifmark (during the audience). Daemon is furious to see her with gwayne.
But their chamber is right next to daemon and nyra, and at night gwayne is way more than ready to make understand that she is his 😏🔥
In Defiance of the Dragon
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- Summary: When your uncle, King Viserys, promised your hand to Gwayne, your father was least pleased about it.
- Paring: targ!reader/Gwayne Hightower
- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.
- Rating: Explicit 18+
- Word count: 4 000+
- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @holdingforgeneralhugs
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The air in the tournament grounds is drenched with the scent of crushed flowers and churned earth, the banners of noble houses fluttering like the wings of restless dragons. The sun casts a golden shine over the scene, making the polished armor of the knights gleam like fire. You stand at the edge of the royal pavilion, a place of honor, though it feels more like a cage at this moment. Your heart pounds in your chest as the king—your uncle, Viserys—raises his hand to command silence.
The crowd hushes, anticipation hanging in the air. You can feel the weight of a thousand eyes upon you, but none as heavy as the gaze of Ser Gwayne Hightower. His presence is unmistakable even among the throng of knights, his armor adorned with the sigil of his house, the beacon of the Hightower shining bright against the steel. Your breath catches as you meet his gaze, a fleeting moment that seems to stretch into eternity. There is something in his eyes—an unspoken promise, a plea for understanding.
Viserys’ voice booms across the grounds, his words carrying the weight of royal decree. "Today, before the tilts commence, let it be known that my beloved niece, the daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen, shall be wed to Ser Gwayne Hightower. This union shall strengthen the bond between our noble houses, binding the blood of Old Valyria to the steadfast walls of Oldtown."
A murmur ripples through the crowd. Otto Hightower, standing beside the king, allows himself a thin, satisfied smile. The whisper of steel, the low hum of murmurs, and the occasional startled cry from the gathered lords and ladies mingle with the pounding in your ears. Beside you, Princess Rhaenyra and Lady Alicent Hightower exchange a glance, though their expressions reveal little. You know Rhaenyra's thoughts well enough; her small hand squeezes yours briefly, a silent assurance.
Your eyes dart to the stands where your father, Prince Daemon, lounges. His posture is deceptively relaxed, but you can see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers drum against the arm of his seat. His eyes—those unmistakable violet eyes—burn with an intensity that sets your nerves on edge. When he rises from his seat, you feel a tremor of fear run through you, though you fight to keep your face composed.
Daemon’s voice, sharp and cutting, pierces the air. "I would face Ser Gwayne in the first tilt. Let us see if this union has the favor of the gods."
The crowd roars in approval, eager for the bloodshed and spectacle that is sure to follow. Gwayne’s gaze shifts, now locked onto Daemon’s. You see the flicker of concern in his eyes, quickly masked by the steel of resolve. He inclines his head, accepting the challenge with a courtly grace that belies the danger he now faces.
You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry. The fear gnaws at you, a beast with claws that rake against your insides. You force yourself to remain still, even as every instinct screams at you to intervene, to do something—anything—to protect Gwayne from your father’s wrath.
Alicent notices your distress, her voice a gentle whisper in your ear. "Do not fear, my lady. Ser Gwayne is a skilled knight. He will honor you in this contest."
Her words are meant to comfort, but they do little to soothe the storm raging within you. Your eyes dart between the two men who now occupy your every thought—the father who has always shielded you with his fierce love, and the knight who has stolen your heart with his quiet strength. What would your father say if he knew how often Gwayne had filled your thoughts, how often you had dreamed of a future together, away from the politics and dangers of the court?
As the knights prepare for the tilt, you can barely breathe. The cheers of the crowd fade into a dull roar in your ears, and all you can focus on is the two figures facing each other across the field. Daemon’s black armor, dark as night and adorned with the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen, stands in stark contrast to Gwayne’s silvered plate. The dragon against the tower—a battle that feels all too symbolic.
Rhaenyra leans in close, her voice urgent and low. "You know your father, sister. He won’t hold back. You must steel yourself."
"I know," you whisper, though your voice trembles with the effort of holding back the fear that threatens to overwhelm you. You cannot let anyone see how deeply this affects you—not Rhaenyra, not Alicent, and certainly not your father.
The trumpets blare, signaling the beginning of the tilt. The horses rear, their hooves pounding the earth as Daemon and Gwayne charge at each other. Time slows to a crawl, and you can only watch, helpless, as the gap between them closes.
The impact is thunderous, the sound of steel against steel ringing out across the field. The force of the blow unseats Gwayne, and he crashes to the ground in a heap of armor and dust. Your heart lurches in your chest, and you rise to your feet, barely aware of the gasps and cries around you.
"Gwayne!" you hear yourself cry out, the name escaping your lips before you can stop it.
The crowd is on its feet, roaring with excitement, but all you can see is Gwayne, motionless on the ground. The world blurs as tears well in your eyes, but you blink them away, refusing to show any weakness.
Daemon circles back, his expression inscrutable behind his helm, but you can feel his eyes on you. This was no accident; he wanted to make a point, to remind everyone that no one—Hightower or otherwise—would take what belonged to a dragon without consequence.
But then, Gwayne stirs. He rises slowly, his movements pained but determined. Relief floods through you, but it is quickly replaced by a renewed sense of dread. Daemon is not done—not yet.
Before you can react, Gwayne is back on his feet, his eyes locked onto Daemon's. The defiance in his stance is clear—he will not yield, not even to a prince of the blood. You feel a swell of pride for him, despite the fear gnawing at your insides.
Daemon, sensing the mood of the crowd shifting, raises his lance once more, ready for another pass. But this time, something in Gwayne’s demeanor gives you hope. His gaze flickers to you for the briefest of moments, and you see the silent vow in his eyes—a promise to fight for you, no matter the odds.
The horses charge again, and this time, Gwayne meets Daemon’s strike with a fierce determination. The impact is brutal, but Gwayne holds his ground, refusing to be unseated. The crowd roars its approval, the tension in the air is felt.
When the dust settles, both knights remain in their saddles, battered but unbroken. It is Daemon who finally raises his hand, signaling the end of the tilt. There is no victor, no vanquished—only two men who have tested each other’s mettle and found themselves equally matched.
The relief that washes over you is overwhelming, and you sink back into your seat, your hands trembling in your lap. You dare a glance at Gwayne, who inclines his head to you with a slight, weary smile. It is a small gesture, but it fills your heart with warmth.
As Daemon dismounts, he casts a long, lingering look in your direction. There is something unspoken in his gaze, a challenge, perhaps—or a warning. But for now, you do not care. You have seen Gwayne survive your father’s wrath, and that is enough for you.
For the first time since this day began, you allow yourself a small, secret smile. The road ahead may be fraught with danger and intrigue, but you will face it with the courage of a dragon—and with Gwayne by your side.
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You stand at the window of the Hightower, looking out over the sprawling city of Oldtown, where the cobbled streets wind like serpents beneath the autumn sun. The air is cool, tinged with the salt of the Whispering Sound, carrying with it the scent of the sea that you’ve come to know so well. The bells from the Starry Sept toll the hour, their sound reverberating through the stone walls of your home.
Your home. It’s a thought that still brings a small smile to your lips, even after all these years. The Hightower is vast, imposing, and ancient, its walls steeped in the history of Oldtown and the Hightowers themselves. Yet within these walls, you have found something unexpected—peace, and more than that, love.
Gwayne is beside you, his hand resting on the small of your back, a comforting weight. His touch is gentle, yet there’s a strength in it that you’ve come to depend on. He’s watching you with that soft expression that always melts the last of your worries away, the lines of his face relaxed, his grey eyes bright with the warmth of the afternoon light.
“He’s arrived,” Gwayne says, his voice low and calm, a grounding presence. You turn your head slightly to meet his gaze, the unspoken question in your eyes.
“Prince Daeron,” he clarifies, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Alicent’s letter arrived this morning, and they’ll be here within the hour.”
You nod, the familiar flutter of anticipation and duty stirring in your chest. Prince Daeron, the youngest son of Queen Alicent, sent to Oldtown to be raised and educated under the care of your husband’s family. It’s a great honor, of course, but more than that, it feels like a trust, a bond that ties your houses closer together.
Gwayne’s hand moves from your back to your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. “He’s young, but from what we’ve heard, he’s bright and eager to learn. He’ll thrive here, I’m sure of it.”
You smile at his optimism, leaning into him slightly. “We’ll make sure of it,” you reply, your voice carrying the quiet determination that has grown within you over the years. Oldtown has become a sanctuary of sorts, a place where you and Gwayne have built a life together, despite the stormy beginnings of your union.
You can still remember the day of the tourney, the way your heart had pounded with fear as your father had chosen Gwayne as his opponent. The memory lingers like a shadow, but it’s one you’ve learned to live with, just as you’ve learned to live with the man who became your husband.
Gwayne, sensing the shift in your mood, squeezes your hand gently. “He’ll have the best tutors, the finest training. And he’ll have us.”
“Yes,” you agree, turning your gaze back to the city below. “He’ll have us.”
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The grand hall of the Hightower is filled with the warmth of a roaring fire, the stone hearth dominating the room. The thick tapestries that line the walls soften the sound of footsteps on the stone floor, and the smell of spiced wine and roasted meat fills the air.
Daeron is smaller than you expected, a boy of perhaps seven years, with a mop of silver hair that falls into his eyes. Those eyes, so much like his mother’s, are wide with curiosity and just a hint of nervousness as he stands before you and Gwayne.
“Welcome to Oldtown, Prince Daeron,” Gwayne says, his voice kind but formal, as befits the occasion. He kneels slightly, bringing himself closer to the boy’s level, a gesture of respect and warmth that seems to put Daeron at ease.
The boy glances up at you, his lips parting in a small, shy smile. “Thank you, Ser Gwayne,” he replies, his voice small but clear. Then, turning to you, he adds, “My lady.”
You kneel beside Gwayne, reaching out to take Daeron’s hand in yours. His fingers are cold, and you can feel the slight tremor in them. “You’ll be safe here, Prince Daeron,” you assure him softly. “This is your home now.”
Daeron looks up at you, his young face a mix of emotions—fear, uncertainty, but also trust. It’s a look that tugs at your heart, and you find yourself wanting to protect this boy, to give him the guidance and care that only family can provide.
“We’ll take good care of you,” you promise, your voice gentle but firm. “Just as we would our own.”
The boy nods, and you can see the tension in his small shoulders begin to ease. He looks around the hall, taking in the grandeur of the Hightower, the vastness of the space that is now his home. There’s still fear in his eyes, but there’s also a glimmer of something else—hope.
Gwayne rises to his feet, offering his hand to you. “Come,” he says to Daeron, “let’s show you the rest of the Hightower. There’s much to see, and I believe the maester has prepared something special for your arrival.”
Daeron hesitates for just a moment before he takes Gwayne’s offered hand, his small fingers gripping tightly as though seeking reassurance. You stand beside them, a silent guardian of this new bond that is being forged.
As you walk through the halls, Gwayne points out various tapestries, statues, and paintings, telling stories of the history of the Hightowers and Oldtown. Daeron listens intently, his earlier nervousness slowly melting away under the gentle guidance of your husband.
When you reach the maester’s chambers, you’re greeted by the sight of a table laden with books, scrolls, and an array of strange instruments that immediately capture Daeron’s interest. The maester, a kindly old man with a beard as white as snow, greets Daeron with a deep bow.
“Prince Daeron,” the maester says warmly, “I’ve prepared a special lesson for you, one that I think you’ll find quite interesting.”
Daeron’s eyes light up with curiosity, and for the first time since his arrival, you see a genuine smile on his face. He looks up at you and Gwayne, his eyes shining with excitement. “Thank you,” he says, his voice more confident now.
Gwayne squeezes your hand, and you can’t help but return the smile. This, you realize, is what it means to be a family—not just by blood, but by the bonds you choose to create. In this moment, with the warmth of the fire and the promise of a new beginning, you feel something settle in your heart, a sense of fulfillment that you hadn’t known you were missing.
As Daeron sits down with the maester, already engrossed in the lesson that has been prepared for him, you and Gwayne share a look, a silent understanding passing between you.
And in this moment, as you both watch Daeron eagerly absorb the knowledge being offered to him, you know that you wouldn’t have your life being lived in any other way.
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The halls of the Red Keep are as imposing as ever as you and Gwayne make your way through the corridors. It's been years since you last walked these halls, and yet they feel as familiar as ever—haunted by memories both bitter and sweet.
Gwayne’s hand rests on your elbow, guiding you through the maze of the castle with practiced ease. He’s dressed in the colors of his house, the green and silver of the Hightowers, his expression calm and composed as always. But you know him well enough to sense the tension beneath the surface, the way his gaze sharpens when he hears a distant sound, always vigilant, always protective.
You both turn a corner and nearly collide with a small entourage, led by none other than Rhaenyra herself. She’s flanked by her husband—your father, Daemon—and their children, their steps purposeful, their expressions tense. Rhaenyra’s silver hair gleams under the flickering torchlight, her violet eyes widening slightly in surprise as she sees you.
“Rhaenyra,” you greet her, your voice soft but steady, betraying none of the uncertainty you feel. So much has changed, yet seeing her here, a part of you yearns for the easy camaraderie you once shared as children. 
“Cousin,” Rhaenyra replies, her voice warm despite the strain visible on her face. She glances at Gwayne and then back at you, her gaze searching, perhaps for some sign of how the years have treated you. “It’s been too long.”
“Far too long,” you agree, your eyes flicking to Daemon, who stands slightly behind Rhaenyra, his gaze locked on Gwayne. There’s a tension in his stance, a stiffness that wasn’t there before, and you know immediately that your father is displeased.
Daemon’s eyes are dark, and though he remains silent, the disapproval is clear. His gaze travels from Gwayne to you, then back again, lingering on the clasped hands between you and your husband. A muscle ticks in his jaw, and for a moment, the air seems to thicken with unspoken words and unresolved history.
“You’re back in the capital for the petitions, I presume?” Rhaenyra asks, breaking the silence, her tone carefully neutral. The mention of the petitions brings you back to the grim reality of why you’re all here—the matter of Driftmark, and the question of succession that has thrown the court into turmoil.
“Yes,” Gwayne answers before you can, his voice firm. “We came as soon as we heard.” He glances at Daemon, his expression respectful but guarded. “It seems the crown’s decision is in favor of your son.”
Rhaenyra’s face softens at the mention of Lucerys, but before she can respond, a voice from behind her interrupts. It’s Jacaerys, his young face set in determination. “The matter should have never been in question. Luke is the rightful heir to Driftmark.”
You see the fire in his eyes, the same fire that once burned in Rhaenyra at that age. It’s both heartening and concerning, especially now, in these treacherous waters.
“That he is,” you say gently, offering a smile to Jacaerys. “And it’s clear to anyone with eyes that he’ll make a fine lord.”
Before Jacaerys can respond, Daemon steps forward, his presence commanding attention. His eyes are locked onto yours now, and there’s a storm brewing behind them, a mix of emotions you can’t fully decipher. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, carrying the weight of a warning.
“You’ve found happiness in Oldtown, I see.” The words are directed at you, but his gaze shifts to Gwayne as he says it, his tone laced with something darker. “Though I wonder if the cost was worth it.”
You feel Gwayne’s hand tighten around yours, a subtle gesture of support. “Happiness is not something to be questioned, Father,” you reply calmly, meeting Daemon’s gaze without flinching. “Nor is the loyalty I hold to both my families.”
Daemon’s lips twitch, almost as if he’s about to say something more, but Rhaenyra places a gentle hand on his arm, silently urging him to hold his tongue. There’s a brief moment where it seems he might ignore her, but then he lets out a slow breath, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.
“We’re here to support our family,” Gwayne adds, his voice measured, addressing Daemon directly now. “In whatever way is needed.”
Daemon studies Gwayne for a long moment, the silence between them stretching thin. Finally, he gives a curt nod, though the hardness in his gaze doesn’t entirely soften. “As you should,” he says, the words clipped, before turning back to Rhaenyra.
“Come, we have business with the king,” he says to her, his voice brooking no argument.
Rhaenyra hesitates, her gaze lingering on you for a moment longer. “We’ll speak later,” she promises, offering a small, genuine smile before following after Daemon, their children trailing behind her.
As they walk away, the tension slowly dissipates, leaving you standing beside Gwayne in the dimly lit corridor. You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, leaning slightly into your husband’s side. Gwayne wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer, his warmth a comfort against the chill that lingers in the air.
“That went… better than I expected,” Gwayne murmurs, a touch of wry humor in his voice, though you can hear the relief beneath it.
“He’s never going to fully approve,” you say quietly, your eyes fixed on the spot where your father had stood. “But he’ll have to accept it.”
Gwayne turns to you, his expression softening as he looks down into your eyes. “I don’t need his approval,” he says, his voice firm. “I have you, and that’s all that matters.”
You smile at that, a genuine smile that reaches your eyes, banishing the last of the unease. “And I have you,” you reply, your voice filled with the love and certainty that have grown between you over the years.
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The heavy oak door of your chambers shuts behind you, a soft thud echoing through the room. The warmth of the fire flickers across the stone walls that dance in tandem with your heightened pulse. Gwayne stands before you, his emerald eyes sharp and intense, still simmering with the tension of your earlier encounter in the halls. He says nothing as he approaches, but the way his hand reaches for your waist and pulls you flush against him speaks volumes.
You’ve grown accustomed to the feel of him—the strength in his embrace, the heat of his breath against your skin—but tonight there is something different, something more urgent. The lingering traces of your father’s displeasure hang between you, and you know, without words, that it fuels Gwayne’s every movement.
His lips descend upon yours, fierce and claiming, tasting of the wine shared at the evening’s feast. You respond in kind, your hands weaving through the thick strands of his hair, pulling him closer, as though you could erase the earlier tension through sheer proximity.
His hands roam across your body with practiced familiarity, fingers curling around the ties of your gown, loosening the laces with deliberate slowness. Gwayne leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice low and rough. “I will make you scream for me tonight,” he promises, and the unspoken words hang heavy in the air—Let him hear.
Your heart flutters in response, not with fear, but with anticipation. The thought of your father just beyond the walls, likely brooding over his anger, stirs something within you. How often had Daemon whispered venom into your ear about the Hightowers, about how they were a poison slowly strangling your family? And yet here you are, wrapped in the arms of one who bears that very name, bound to him not only by vows but by something far deeper, something that even your father’s fury cannot tarnish.
Gwayne’s touch turns rougher, more insistent, and your breath catches in your throat as he lifts you with ease, laying you down onto the bed. The covers crumple beneath your weight, the mattress giving way as he settles over you, his eyes burning with a hunger that matches your own. “I want him to know,” he murmurs against your neck, his lips trailing fire down your throat, “that you belong to me.”
Your back arches involuntarily, and you bite down on your lip, the need to hold back your cries warring with the knowledge of who might hear. Gwayne’s hands grasp your hips, his grip possessive as he moves against you with a rhythm that leaves you breathless. Each movement, each deliberate thrust, is a challenge—a challenge to the walls that separate your chambers from those of your father and his wife.
The pressure builds inside you, the familiar heat coiling in your belly, and you grasp at Gwayne’s shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you fight against the wave of pleasure threatening to drown you. His mouth hovers over yours, demanding, coaxing you to give in, to let go.
And then you remember—Daemon’s chambers are just beyond. The thought of his reaction, of his barely concealed rage at the idea of you finding joy with a Hightower, sends a thrill through you. You gasp aloud as Gwayne drives into you harder, his breath ragged in your ear, “Louder,” he commands, his voice a mix of authority and need.
You close your eyes, letting the sensation wash over you, letting the sound of his name tear from your lips, louder than before, louder than you ever have. You imagine the look on your father’s face, his fists clenched in helpless fury, and the thought sends you spiraling into a pleasure so intense it nearly blinds you.
Gwayne’s name tumbles from your lips again and again, each cry more fervent than the last, as he brings you to the edge and beyond. You feel his satisfaction in the way he groans your name in return, his hold on you unyielding, as though he could anchor himself to you through sheer force of will.
When it’s over, when the last echoes of your cries have faded into the night, you lay beside him, your body spent and trembling, but your mind still racing. Gwayne’s hand rests possessively on your hip, his chest rising and falling with the remnants of exertion. “He heard you,” he says, his voice tinged with satisfaction.
You can only nod, the thought of what tomorrow might bring swirling in your mind. But for now, there is only this—only you and Gwayne, and the knowledge that whatever storm your father’s ire might bring, you would weather it together.
In the silence that follows, you curl closer to Gwayne, your fingers tracing idle patterns across his chest. “Tomorrow…” you begin, but your voice trails off.
“Tomorrow,” Gwayne echoes, his tone firm, reassuring, “we will face whatever comes. But tonight, you are mine, and that is all that matters.”
You smile softly at his words, closing your eyes as sleep finally begins to claim you.
498 notes · View notes
jacesvelaryons · 5 months ago
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(Modern! Jace Velaryon x Female!Reader) Social Media AU
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summary: Modern Jacaerys Velaryon is an heir to the Targaryen Corp, and also has a decent following on social media. You and him have the best time together, making the most out of life being young, beautiful and successful. Spot the cameos of our other HOTD characters in a lot less stressful circumstance where everyone gets along in modern day. 😅
a/n: please keep sending in your requests! i love hearing and writing for you guys. i’ll get them back to you as soon as possible alongside a ton of original work i plan to share. will post a previews of my upcoming work with their posters and all.
masterlist
requests OPEN
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yourusername
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liked by rhaenyratargaryen, laenorvel and others
date night with the love of my life
sarasnow hope you had a blast lovelies!!
liked by yourusername
↩️ random63 wasn’t sara rumoured to be jaces fling situationship before he got with y/n? 👀👀
↩️ person173 i think so but she cregan and jace have made it clear they’re all just close friends
↩️ user649 ofc sure 🤔
rhaenyratargaryen love you my darlings
↩️ yourusername love you too mama nyra 🩷🩷🫂
↩️ user0092 oh she got his ceo mamas approval this is SERIOUS
yourusername
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⭐️
liked by laenavelaryon, sabithafrey and others
user725 she’s making the targ heir work for her i love it
↩️ fan92 as men should
liked by yourusername, baelatargs and rhaenatargeryen
alyblackwood you deserve it girl 😌
↩️ yourusername thanks pookie 😙
username366 wish my man would treat me like this too 😓
user271 now where is this dress from?
↩️ yourusername it’s @/versace luv!
jacaerysvelaryon
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ibiza
taken by the beautiful @/ yourusername
liked by oscartully, joffreyv and others
baelatargs and where are the pictures of her? sick of seeing your face 😤
↩️helaenasbugs yes where is she?? 🤭
↩️ yourusername dw girls my pic dumps are coming soon 😭
yourusername youre so stunning baby
↩️jacesvelaryons no you are stunning babe
↩️lucerysvelaryon get a room please…
randomuser now why does joffrey have an ig he’s too young 🤔
↩️ rhaenatargs it’s just for roblox and minecraft updates he’s fine trust me 😭😭
yourusername
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it’s all sea blue and sand from here. 🐚
liked by addamhull, yourgirlnettles and others
usernamehere oh to be the targaryen corp heir’s gf living a life of luxury
↩️ randomuser887 she’s a gold digger 😒
↩️ person1124 she don’t need no gold she comes from a comfortable family herself lol
↩️ user98 you’d go for the gold too imagine the life and besides he’s cute smart respectful and a gentleman i’d date him even if he was broke
↩️fan120 real
itsyourgirlnettles missed you luv! come over at driftmark more often
↩️ yourusername i don’t see you enough! promise we’ll hang one on one time more
↩️itsyourgirlnettles good luck to me to get your man off your arm even just for a few hours with ya lol
jacaerysvelaryon posted a story
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creganstark
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night out with the best bro
liked by kermitully, oneyedaemond and others
yourusername get home safely boys!
↩️usernamehere why didn’t you go girlie?
↩️ yourusername i’m always invited but im a grannie im in bed by 10 pm with a book winding down for the night 😅i come sometimes
↩️creganstark yeahhh you should come next time! had to deal with him fawning over you again 😐 don’t want your ego to get any bigger
↩️ yourusername hey! i’ll come next time i promise and my ego ain’t changing stark
jacaerysvelaryon missed you there my muse at my new set
↩️ yourusername i’ll be there next time i promise 😅 you know this isn’t my crowd but I’ll go for you
↩️ jacaerysvelaryon you missed my dedicated song to you last night i’ll have to play it again next time 😔
aegondeux yoo invite me over next time missed out the fun again
↩️helaenasbugs too busy at the bar that’s why 😒 why did you get out of rehab idiot
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daenystheedreamer · 9 months ago
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rhaenyra in her dykemobile which im imagining as bella's truck from twilight but yellow (the number plate says SYRAXXX) rolling up to alicent's mansion putting her sunglasses on her head arm swung over the passenger seat honking the horn yelling BABE BABE BABE alicent hanging out her window yelling IM COMING five seconds late hurrying down the steps in a white fur jacket knee length skirt with stockings and penny loafers arms crossed going oh my god nyra they're gonna call the cops!!! rhaenyra deep throated laugh going aww babe ill fight them off alicent slipping into the car and sitting neatly all prim and proper hands in her lap very nervous and there's rhaenyra confident as ever hand on her chin pulling her in for the most disgusting PDA tongue kiss youve ever seen alicent blushing eyes closed rhaenyra smirking eyes open staring at otto hightower whos standing in the window eyes narrowed mouth like he's sucked a lemon unsmoked cigar in hand. he recognises the car as daemon's old busted up truck that used to be painted red with CARAXXXES number plate. used to have truck nuts on it but rhaenyra took them off and put a huge sticker of a pinup girl on the side like its a ww2 american plane. anyway do you guys see my vision.
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captainamericasmotercycle · 5 months ago
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Hi I was wondering if you could do a fic with Jacaerys x sister! Reader where they are at a gala/feast and ppl keep flirting with reader so Jave gets jealous and stuff. So when they go to their room at the end of the feast Jace makes her ride his face and makes sure she’s loud enough for everyone to hear that she’s his.
warnings: typical canon incest, jace x sister!reader (father is not specified), no dance of the dragons au, 18+ minors DNI, jace hates aemond in every universe, everyone lives au!!!, jace eating u out like a man starved, nyra and daemon giving kris jenner vibes???, cursing, the targtowers and targaryens are besties (kind of)
For your younger brother Lucerys’s name day of ten and five, your family decided it would be best to throw a feast for him.
He was becoming older and would soon inherit Driftmark, he needed a celebration to show that he is becoming a man and no longer a mere child.
Since your mother became Queen and your older half-brother became her heir, many people were interested in the lives of the royal family, so Luke’s name day was flooded with people from all over Westeros.
You were all dolled up in a fancy gown, you hair was braided so elegantly and intricately, and you moved with such grace that most eyes were on you throughout the night.
Luke joked to Jace that you may be able to find a lord husband tonight, but at his suggestion, Jace tensed up and his face hardened.
You sat with your family at the elevated table, you mother was in the middle, Daemon next to her, his daughters on his side of the table, you sat between Jace and your mother, and then sat Luke, Joffrey, Viserys, and Aegon.
You watched in awe at the celebration, only imagining how grand a wedding could be.
People danced, wore lavish clothing, gorged themselves in the food, and occasionally approached the table to offer up gifts to your brother for his name day.
It was about halfway through the night when highborn men started to approach you, which was uncommon up until recent.
Every since you had turned ten and eight, and became more developed in certain places, you were consistently approached for your hand.
Lord Oscar Tully was the first to approach your table, you smiled gently at him, knowing his new situation.
“Hello, Princess. You look lovely tonight.”
You felt heat rush to your cheeks, a dark color dusting your cheeks, he was quite the charmer, and not bad looking either, “Thank you, Lord Tully. I heard about your grandsire, I offer my deepest condolences.”
He nods solemnly, “Thank you, Princess. I may have lost my grandsire, but I have gained a deep power and a great kingdom… one I hope you will consider in your future.”
You smiled gently, “I heard the Riverlands are beautiful, I would most definitely love to see them someday. Is there something I can do for you?”
“I just wanted to come and offer you some company, if you’ll have me?”
You looked to your mother who smiled at you, knowingly. You looked back to the young lord and nodded, “I’d love to.”
You came around the table, taking his arm in yours as he led you to the floor to dance.
Jace’s gaze hardened and he downed his cup of wine, slamming it down on the table harsher than intended. Luke and Joffrey giggled at him, Viserys and Aegon following their older brothers’ actions.
Luke leaned over to his brother, “Careful, your face might get stuck like that.”
“Shut up, Luke.”
“I’m just saying…”
“He’s not good enough for her—”
“You say that about every man and I could hardly agree with you, most of the Riverlands looks to House Tully for direction and leadership; she would be in a great position there as their lady.”
“Do you want me to leave the table and kill myself?”
“All I am saying is that maybe you should focus on yourself instead of our sister… you need to wed as well, create heirs for the Seven Kingdoms.”
Jace rolled his eyes, “You sound like Mother.”
Rhaenyra whipped her head to her sons, “I think he is right, Jace.”
“Of course you do.”
“You are too invested in something that does not concern you Jacaerys. Perhaps you need to start looking for your own Lady Wife.”
“I do not wish to wed.”
“I hate to tell you, but your wishes do not matter to the Seven Kingdoms.”
Jace sighed, moving his gaze back to you and Lord Tully. You smiled as the two of you danced. Jace’s jealously only grew as he watched.
Oscar Tully was not good enough for you, no one is good enough for you… except Jace himself.
As the song ended, a new one started. Luke left the table with Rhaena, Joffrey and the twins were led to their chambers to be put to bed, your mother was in an intent conversation with Corlys and Rhaenys, and you had just been approached by Gwyane Hightower.
From the look on Gwyane’s face, Jace knew Gwyane was being smug with you, he scoffed, thinking that you would never be charmed by him, but when he saw you smiling, standing too close for comfort to him, he almost puked his supper all over the floor.
You danced and flirted with Gwyane Hightower for a bit of the night, making Jace more and more jealous.
As you finished with Gwyane, you returned to your seat, a big smile on your face.
“Enjoy your dance?” Jace asked, venom lacing his tongue.
“I did, as a matter of fact, Gwyane is… such a lovely knight. He’s a knight… did you know?”
Before Jace could respond, you were hugged lightly from behind by Helaena. She kissed you gently on the cheek, “Quite the collection of suitors you have assembled tonight.”
You giggled lightly, “I know! Quite fun, to be honest.”
Jace grunted from beside you, making you and Helaena both turn to him, “Are you alright?”
“Just fine,” he held his lips in a thin tight line.
You went back to your conversation with Helaena about her uncle, Gwayne and Lord Tully, when you were finally met by another suitor.
“Sister. Niece. Nephew,” Aemond stood in front of you, a smirk dancing on his lips.
“Uncle,” you looked at him with raised brows.
“I was just wondering if you would join me for a dance. I’ve seen all of these useless men that call themselves suitors and figured you needed a more distinguished partner, such as a prince.”
You blinked slowly at him, Helaena nudged you with a smile. You quickly glanced at Jace and thought he looked like he was about to roll over and die.
You stood and came around the table to meet him, you took his offered hand, “Let’s see how well you dance, Uncle.”
Helaena watched the two of you walk away, “A great pair, the two of them, they’ll be fantastic together,” she took a grape off your plate, popping it in her mouth and walking off.
This was Jace’s last straw, seeing you dance with Aemond might have been the most painful thing he’s ever done in his entire life. After watching for just a couple moments, he could not stand it any longer.
His mother rolled her eyes, watching him seethe, “Jace.”
“What?”
“Go get her.”
“What?”
“Go. I can see it in your eyes.”
Jace stood, rushing down to you and grabbing your arm, stealing you away from Aemond.
You followed him, shocked at the sudden behavior. He yanked you to his chambers, leaving the doors open.
Once in his room, you pulled away from him, “Jacaerys! What is the meaning of this?”
“You! You are the meaning of this!” His yelling made you take a step back, he stalked up, putting his hand on either side of your face, holding on tightly, “You think you can tease me like that? Taking any man who offered his hand?”
“Jace-”
“You know they are no good for you. They may be nobles, but are they heir to the Iron Throne? You are simply doing this to upset me.”
Your voice became small, “I did not mean to upset you.”
You could feel wetness pooling in your small clothes beneath your gown. He shoved his face into yours, harshly smashing his lips on yours.
You stumbled back at the forced, you pushed him back to take a breath and think about what you are doing. After a couple deep breaths, you rushed at him, nearly mounting him.
He groped and grasped at every part of you, you doing the same to him. His lips moved down to your neck, sucking lightly at it.
You threw your head back as his teeth grazed the sensitive area of your neck. The two of your shuffled your way to his bed.
“Jace… the doors, someone might see or hear.”
“I hope they do.”
“But—”
He pushed you on his bed, “I want them to hear how good your brother can make you feel, how they will never be me, how they will never taste you.”
He spread your legs, pulling off your underclothes. He grabbed your thighs, flipping you to straddle his face.
You fell forward, steadying yourself up with your hands. You pushed yourself up back in a sitting position.
Jace yanked at your legs, pulling you further down onto his face. You felt his nose buried into your cunt, rubbing against your sensitive bud.
You were about to voice your concerns about suffocating him, but you suddenly gasped out as you felt his tongue lick a long stripe down your maidenhood.
He thrusted his tongue in and out of you roughly, you screamed out for everyone in the hall to hear, “Gods! Jace!”
Visceral animalistic sounds came from the back of your throat, sounds you had never heard before.
In the hall, the attention of the crowds was taken by your yells, guards grabbed at their swords, you mother rose suddenly at your scream, Daemon was on his feet and ready for an oncoming attack.
One of Jace’s personal guards came rushing into the room to promise that no one was in danger and that the two of you were… together in his chambers.
Your mother and Daemon’s faces instantly reddened. They shared a look of embarrassment and pride. On one hand, as your parents, they wanted to kill you both, but as the Queen and King Consort, they knew the realm would be in their children’s hands at their demise.
Tears rolled down your face as Jace fucked you with his tongue. You had never felt such pleasures in your entire life. It made you understand why lowborn men seek out such endeavors at the disloyalty of their wives.
Jace couldn’t get enough of you. You tasted sweeter than anything that’s ever touched his tongue. His tongue moved faster as you panted, moaned, and groaned above him.
As his pace quickened, you felt a tight coiling in your lower stomach.
“Jace… fuck!”
At your vulgarity, he quickened his pace. You came fast and harder than you ever thought you could. Jace took all of your juices into his mouth, not leaving a drop of your sweet release.
You collapsed next to him, panting outrageously. He lay next to you, breathless, laughing to himself. You grabbed a pillow, hitting him the face with it. He took it from you, tossing it on the ground.
He came to hover over you, trapping you beneath his figure. You leaned down and kissed your lips gently, you could still taste your arousal on his lips.
You stared at him with a smile, “I suppose you think making the entire Keep believe we were under attack is funny?”
“It was not I that made them think we were under attack. If I am not mistaken, it was you screaming your head off.”
“You were the one who yanked me away from the celebration.”
“Yes, but you were the one who made me.”
You scoffed, sitting up against the headboard, “Made you?”
“Yes, dancing with that Tully, the fucking Hightower knight, and worse of all, Aemond.”
“Mmm, sounds like you are jealous?” You taunted him sarcastically.
“They are not deserving of you.”
“And you are?”
“I am the heir to the Iron Throne and your blood. I am the most deserving.”
“So are you suggesting I should become Queen one day?”
“Hmm, I do not remember offering my hand to you to wed…”
You hit him in the stomach with the back of your hand, “You just had the entire Seven Kingdoms hear my screams while you were buried up my dress. I would slaughter you and become the heir myself if you did not ask for my hand after that.”
He took your hand in his, kissing the back of your palm, “I shall talk to Mother in the morn.”
You stared at your intertwined hands, “We should return…”
“You think we are able to return after the little show we put on?”
“I suppose you are right,” you sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder.
He got up, leaving you on his bed. He walked to his chamber doors, locking them.
He returned to you, laying on his back, “Perhaps we should just rest now, we shall deal with our consequences tomorrow.”
You lay with him, resting your head on his chest, he brought his hand to rub your arm, coaxing you to sleep.
He pressed a couple kiss to your hairline, “You will be my wife soon enough, dōna tala.”
747 notes · View notes
spacerockfloater · 7 months ago
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Alicent and Criston have every right to be together.
I’ve read a lot of posts regarding their non-existent hypocrisy and I’d like to clear some things up.
First and foremost, stop using Alicent’s “Where is duty, where is sacrifice?” line against her or Nyra’s outrageous “Exhausting, wasn’t it?” speech because you think you’re eating when you’re, in fact, starving. Alicent has done her duty and sacrificed herself. It’s the only thing she’s been doing for the past 20 years. She gave the man she was forced to marry four children and she took care of him despite all the shit he put her through. She has lived all her life based on her principles and now her husband is gone. She mourned him, she buried him, it’s been more than 10 days since his death (confirmed that E1 S2 takes place 10 days after Lucerys’ death) and she is finally fucking free. She deserves a sliver of comfort. Alicent is the only one in this series that’s been faithful and dutiful to a T, yet look where that got her. If someone has the right to break the law a little bit, it’s definitely her.
That being said, I don’t know when it was decided that Alicent is a pious saint that can do no wrong, but I need to remind y’all that following a religion does not magically prevent you from sinning. Is she committing fornication? Obviously. However, you are all under this impression that this is hypocritical on her behalf because she berated Rhaenyra for it when they were younger, without considering that her anger was justified for a myriad of other reasons, such as (but not limited to): 1) the fact that Rhaenyra’s freedom to marry whomever she pleased was a privilege granted to her thanks to Alicent’s efforts, who supported her even if Rhaenyra hated her, yet her friend casually threw that away, 2) the fact that Rhaenyra lied to her by swearing on her morher’s grave and never even mentioned Criston, 3) the fact that Rhaenyra had the guts to call her “sister” while lying to her face, 4) the fact that her lies resulted in Otto getting fired since Rhaenyra misled Alicent so that she speaks to Viserys in favour of her friend and betraying her own father by siding against him (a decision she wouldn’t have made if she knew the truth), leaving her completely alone and friendless at court, even if he was right all along and finally 5) the fact that Rhaenyra is the most sought after bachelorette in the whole world and by having sex she undermines herself (Rhaenyra knows this well, hence why she denies these accusations) and literally endangers herself, because had she been married to any other man but Laenor and had this man found out his wife and future queen is not a virgin, imagine the fucking horrors she could have been subjected to. Like, I hate to break it to you, but a 40-year-old widow, who’s had four kids and has completed her duty to the point where she is actually no longer needed and could leave the palace to go live the rest of her life in peace somewhere else and no one would notice her absence (literally though, she has birthed heirs, her husband is dead, her son is a grown adult king, her job is done there), having sex, is not the same as an 18-year-old princess and future heir in her prime, whose purity is linked to her worth, getting caught drunk in a brothel, hooking up with her uncle and losing her virginity to her guard, all in one night. Viserys himself was outraged. There’s lows and then there’s lows, y’all.
By the way, the crazy assumptions that Alicent has been cheating on Viserys with Criston for a while now need to stop. When Olivia Cooke said that they had filmed a messy sex scene with Fabien Frankel in a recent interview, she never said this was for S1 of HOTD. I don’t know where y’all got that from, but even if it was true, that scene has been scrapped so it is not canon. And don’t make me laugh about Daeron, a dragon rider who canonically has Valyrian features, potentially having brown hair. You’re all so blinded by your hatred for Alicent that you want her to be a lying hypocrite in order to make yourselves feel better about Rhaenyra’s mishaps, that you don’t get that the whole point of her and Criston getting physical is that she is a tortured woman who is finally able to break free, not that she has been a hypocrite all along. You’re heavily misunderstanding her arc.
Finally, when it comes to my good man Criston, y’all have lost it completely. No, Alicent is not raping him, unless he tells her to stop and she closes the door behind her like Rhaenyra did that is. No, Criston did not lie about how important his honour is to him. There’s a whole article on how Clare Kilner, the director of E4 S1, decided that Cole removing his armour slowly was necessary because it symbolises his inner conflict and uncertainty over breaking his vow: should he soil his cloak for the sake of the woman he loves? And he does soil it, because he thinks she loves him back. But that honourable man dies the day Rhaenyra tells him that he’ll never be anything more than a side piece to her. This man stops giving a flying fuck about his honour, oath, position and life. He is trying to kill himself. And you know what stops him? Alicent. Alicent is the only thing between him and death, the only person to show him kindness and understanding, to pull him up from the lowest point in his life. I don’t think you heard Alicent in E7 S1: “No, you’re sworn to me!”. Y’all. His life is hers. He doesn’t care about Rhaenyra, his job, Viserys, anyone else at this point. Only Alicent exists in his mind, Fabien himself has said time and time again that his loyalty to her is unwavering. He only exists for Alicent’s sake. He’s who you wish Daemon was. Crying that “Criston is a bad knight and a liar because he broke his chastity oath yet again!” is so pointless because that knight has been dead since Rhaenyra’s marriage to Laenor. What does an oath mean when you find out the people you swore it to have betrayed you? Why should he keep his promise to the people who abused him?
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illusioninfnty · 2 months ago
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The Sea's Delight
જ⁀➴ Mermaid & Pirate : Day 25
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feat. Rhaenyra Targaryen ᯓ★ Rhaenyra is the most fearsome pirate on the seas...and the most glorious lover in the bedroom.
warnings! : NSFW 18+, top!Rhaenyra, cunnilingus, fingering, praise, Rhaenyra got that strap, penetrative sex with dildo, semi-public sex
ᯓ★ kinktober m.list || read on ao3
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“Nyra, we can’t keep doing—ohh,” your protests escape you as the pirate captain licks on your cunt mercilessly.
“Says you.” Her voice is rough and gravely as she talks, muffled against your pussy lips. The vibrations against your most sensitive area sends waves of arousal through your system. Captain Rhaenyra was as calm as ever, and her charm was no doubt what enraptured you in her web.
A moan leaves your lips as you arch your back up, desperate for more of her mouth. “Your crew is bound to find out. What will they think, seeing you slobbering over a mermaid’s cunt?”
Rhaenyra glides one of her hands over your tail, her calloused hand caressing the iridescent scales that glow in the moonlight as the two do you lay atop the deck. “Let them. Maybe they’ll learn how to finally pleasure a cunt like this properly.”
You sigh hopelessly, knowing you’ll never get through to her. 
Pirate Captain Rhaenyra Targaryen was fearsome on the seas, one of the few female captains who gained some respect in her travels. She was so well revered that even you had heard of her, whispers from other mermaids and mermen in your village of the lady pirate who actually respected your kind.
Those rumors led to how you met her. The idea of a lady pirate attracted you, knowing there was a strong woman amongst the filthy, disgusting men that love to leer at and prey upon mermaids. It’s what finally encouraged you to show yourself to the surface, something that mermaids were not all too privy to do given the attitude of the pirates that traveled the seas.
You’re brought out of your thoughts as Rhaenyra slides two fingers into your cunt, the sensation causing you to gasp as your attention is back on your lover.
“What’s on your mind, love?” she asks in a murmur, her curled fingers hitting deep inside of you. “Keep your eyes on me.”
“Thinking about when we first met,” you answer, “when you fucked me in your quarters.”
Contrary to popular belief, mermaids were able to go without water for up to a full day. Rhaenyra tested this out with you by carrying you to her room and fucking you there through the whole night.
Her eyes look up to meet yours as she sucks on your clit. “Want me to pull it out for you, baby?”
Your eyes practically roll into the back of your head imagining the pleasure that was about to come. Rhaenyra was talented on the seas but in the bedroom, too.
“You know, I’ll never say no to that.” Your tail flicks in excitement, a mild thump heard on the wooden floors.
Rheanyra gives you a toothy smile as she picks you up easily, one hand around your shoulders and the other around your tail. The muscles in her arms flex as she does so, easily seen in the tight white undershirt she’s wearing, and you hide your face in her neck to conceal the heat that rises to your cheeks.
“My tongue was in your cunt mere seconds ago yet you still blush at the smallest things.” You can hear the amusement in her voice as a small chuckle leaves her lips.
You huff. “Let’s go already.” You flick your tail to hit her side gently. “In case you didn’t notice, I haven’t cum yet. Don’t want to leave me unsatisfied, do you?”
She hums assuredly. “Never.”
Rhaenyra isn’t quiet when she slams the door open wide to her quarters, slamming against the wall. You cringe at the noise, which is guaranteed to wake her crew members up.
Well if that doesn’t wake them, your screams sure will. 
She drops you on her bed, your back hitting the soft, plush mattress. For a pirate, she sure loves her comfort. It was a major plus for you.
Rhaenyra crawls on top of you, bending over and kissing you so hard it nearly takes your breath away. Breathing without your gils always feels strange, and you can feel them flutter as Rhaenyra’s captivating kiss replaces your source of air.
You preen as her soft lips cover your own, the two of you moving your lips in sync with one another. The kiss soon becomes sloppy, both of you becoming more feverish, and Rhaenyra’s tongue slips into your mouth, sucking on your tongue and swallowing up your moans.
A thin line of saliva connects the two of you as Rhaenyra eventually pulls away, chuckling as you whine and buck yourself up into her, chasing after her lips.
You stare up at your lover, her flushed cheeks and swollen lips making you swoon. Only you had the privilege of seeing this vulnerable side of the fearsome Captain Rhaenyra, and you would drink up every moment of it you got.
The weight of Rhaenyra leaves you as she moves off the bed, lowering herself to fetch a chest underneath it—her collection of the toys you used together. Given that you were the first mermaid she’s been with and her your first human, it made sense for the two of you to experiment during your midnight romps. 
“I want to try the ribbed one tonight.” You say. You hear Rhaenyra pause with her search. “The biggest one,” you add.
“Think you can take it?” She asks, a smirk adorning her features as she looks up at you.
You smirk back, matching her own. “I don’t know, but I do know that you can make me.”
A deep chuckle leaves her lips as the rustling continues. You can feel yourself getting wetter by the minute, your tail fins fluttering in anticipation.
Rhaenyra emerges in front of you with the strap on, already fastening to her body. The large piece suits her, you think, and you can’t help but shy away from her when that thought festers.
“Don’t hide from me now, love.” Rhaenyra holds your chin between her thumb and forefinger, turning your head to meet her gaze. “I haven’t even stuck my cock in you yet.”
“D-don’t word it like that!” You playfully slap at her forearm in a hushed whisper. “Gods, you’re so embarrassing sometimes.”
“You wouldn’t have me any other way.” She presses a kiss to your cheek and aligns the dildo with your dripping slit. “Ready?”
You nod wordlessly, and a gasp leaves you as the head enters you. Your back arches as Rhaenyra slowly inches her way into you.
“So good,” you murmur into her neck, wrapping your arms around her broad back.
“Yeah?” She begins to kiss your jaw, moving down to your neck, and you shudder. “You like being stretched open?”
“Y-yes!” You answer breathlessly, gasping as Rhaenyra begins to stroke your tail.
“My pretty mermaid, laid out just for me to see.” Her hands brush over your scales as her eyes gaze upon your tail.
“All the other pirates wish they could have such a pretty mermaid with them. To look at, to kiss—” she thrusts the entire length of the dildo into you at once, and your back arches into her, your breasts pressing into her own. “—to fuck.”
Her words are all jumbled in your head as the pleasure takes over. Your nails claw into her back, the sensation of her thrusts and the strokes against your tail combining in a way that makes your brain practically melt.
“Let those pretty moans out. Sing for me, love.”
“Uh, uh!” Your moans are loud and unabashed, and Rhaenrya thinks that she could get lost in the sounds you make. She was never one to be gullible enough to be entranced by the sounds of mermaid’s voices while out at sea like other pirates were, but now she knows it was just because no other voice could compare to your own.
Drool drips out the side of your mouth and she takes a swipe at it with her thumb, bringing it to her lips.
“Well aren’t you being such a good girl for me?” The squelch of the dildo thrusting in and out of you permeates through the air, only second to the sounds of the moans tumbling out of you.
“Y-yes! Please, more!”
Rhaenyra happily complies, pounding even harder and faster than before. The ribbing on the dildo hits your walls so nicely, and the stretch of the girth is so wide that it feels like it’s practically changing the shape of you.
Both you and Rhaenyra moan in sync. “Cum for me,” she whispers in your ear, and the tickle of her breath sends shockwaves down your system as your orgasm hits you. Your tail beats against her as your body twitches with your release, grabbing onto her as if she was your life line. 
Tears bead in the corners of your eyes and Rhaenyra kisses them away. She shutters as her own release hits her, her movements inside of you halting. You moan as the dildo leaves you, the odd sensation of emptiness falling upon you.
Rhaenyra runs a hand up and down your side in a soothing manner as you come down from your peak. “Think they heard me? you joke with her.
The sounds of grouchy men’s voices echo from above you, on the ship’s deck.
Rhaenyra smirks and kisses your cheek. “I hope so. Then they’ll know not to fuck with you lest they face my wrath.”
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dulcewrites · 2 years ago
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Just realized another reason why alicent and myrah would get along is their connection to the faith. Both of them are from places that hold the faith of the seven in high regards (Oldtown and the Vale respectively).
Despite that they get to that place in vastly different ways and it shows itself in different ways, they pray for the same reasons: in the name of keeping hope alive and wanting peace in their lives. It is a form of salvation for them.
It’s been established that Myrah has some fears around marrying and becoming a mother. Honestly, I think the situation Alicent was put in, at 15 mind you, would be a worst case scenario for someone like Myrah. Alicent’s faith comes from a place of repentance and need for survival. While Myrah’s faith comes from a place of fear of losing comfortablity. Myrah was fostered in a family that made her feel respected and wanted. Her fear is losing that by marrying someone awful and being forced to have his kids. She is constantly fighting between the open, and loving family (her parents being in love and equals in the relationship) she’s been raised in versus societal ideals around her.
I think it manifest itself differently between the two, but like Alicent, Myrah is a woman hyper aware of her ‘duty’ as a woman/her role in this realm. She is hyper aware of her status (being lower born), she is hyper aware of what marriage means for her. It is why when aemond and her have their intimacy/pregnancy issues in the beginning of their marriage, she takes it hard. In her mind, she takes it as ‘if I can’t please my husband nor give him a baby.. what am I here for’. Ofc it is wrong bc Aemond adores her regardless. But that is just the mindset around her that creeps in.
Anyway long story short, they’d def take sweet mom - step daughter trips to the sept, especially with the babies
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