#being issa's WIFE

[riding-with-the-wild-hunt]

vetted fundraisers from today. please continue to give support to families like these in whatever capacities you can, they are suffering such unfathomable deprivation and grief.

july 18th:

Safaa, her husband, their baby son Amir, and Safaa's parents, who both urgently need medical treatment ($1,086/$75,000) - @safaamiroo, verified by @/90-ghost

Amira Alanqar, her two siblings, and their mother, who needs treatment for diabetes (Amira is solely responsible for her family after the loss of their father) (€14,484/€20,000) - @amira-world, verified by @/nabulsi

Ashraf Alanqar, his wife Widad Issa, and their little son Bakr (€8,974/€30,000) - @ashraf-family, verified by @/90-ghost

Wafaa Alnhal's family of 15, including four young children and a newborn (the family has already lost multiple members, including Wafaa's sister and teenage niece) (€34,690/€50,000) - @wafa-nahll, #171 on @/el-shab-hussein and @/nabulsi's spreadsheet

Widow Hadeel Abu Jiab and her family of 12, including three young children (Najwa who was orphaned, Samira who needs treatment for vision problems, and Almas who is in severe shock) and Hadeel's injured mother and brother (€2,814/€20,000) - @palestinianhadeel, verified by @/90-ghost

Salahaldin Hor, his wife Sundus, and their three young daughters, two of whom have been injured (€1,946/€40,000) - @salahaldinhor, verified by @/90-ghost

Islam Al-Najjar and his family (€15/€30,000) - @islamgazaaccount2, verified by @/90-ghost

The Ayyad family of eight, including a sick child who needs treatment to save her sight (CHF3,753/CHF60,000) - @basel-1995, @amanyayyad, #214 on @/nabulsi and @/el-shab-hussein's spreadsheet

Mohammed Atallah (needs urgent surgery after being shot with an explosive bullet) and his family of 11, including a toddler and a newborn (€3,205/€82,000) - @mohammed-atallah, verified by @/90-ghost

Ola Ahel, her four siblings, and their parents ($7,308/$20,000) - @olagaza, #205 on @/el-shab-hussein and @/nabulsi's spreadsheet

Yousef, a toddler who needs lifesaving treatment for a severe blood disease, and his parents (€4,080/€25,000) - @dima96yousef, verified by @/90-ghost

Nour Ashour, her husband, and their two little children, including Muhammad, who needs continuous treatment for disabilities relating to birth asphyxia (£55/£80,000) - @nourashour33, verified by @/90-ghost

Hala Daoud (needs vital treatment for multiple sclerosis) and her three children (€180/€17,000) - verified by @/frostedforestfairy (contact for more details)

Helping Tawfik Satoom continue his education ($902/$20,000) - @tawfiksatooom, #238 on the operation olive branch spreadsheet

Ahmed Alanqar, his wife Dina, and their four young children, one a newborn (€31,345/€35,000) - @ahmedabuyamin, #174 on @/nabulsi and @/el-shab-hussein's spreadsheet

Helping Siraj Abudayeh, his wife, and their three young children rebuild their treasured home ($6,972 CAD/$82,000 CAD) - @siraj2024, #219 on @/el-shab-hussein and @/nabulsi's spreadsheet

Shimaa, her husband Abdel, and their little daughter Juri (€386/€50,000) - @shimaashaban22, @abdelmutei, verified by @/90-ghost

5-year-old Nour, her three sisters (all suffering from malnutrition), their parents, and their grandmother ($373/$25,000) - @nourbader2019, verified by @/90-ghost

not yet vetted:

Salem Anqar, his wife Hadeel, their two little children, Salim's five siblings (three of whom are children), and their chronically ill parents (kr1,022 SEK/kr990,000) - @salemanqar

Mohammed Ayyad and his family of seven, five of whom are children (Mohammed lost his mother when she was not able to evacuate for medical care) (€11,473/€35,000) - @mohammedayyad

The Eleyan family of 18, including eight children, one a newborn (€3,185/€50,000)

Doctor Mohammed Shurrab, his wife, their child, and ten extended family members (€435/€100,000) - @684599

a small amount of your time and effort can have an immeasurable impact. please don't scroll past without engaging in some way, it really makes a difference

[thesongoficeandfir3]

The coronation

Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!Wife!reader

AU where the blacks won

Warnings: none, just Jace and his wife reader being cute before his coronation

You make your way down the long corridor of the Red Keep’s ancient castle halls, your steps echoes loudly off the stone walls and floor. You soon approach heavy oak door where two knights stand and upon seeing you they immediately pull the large doors open. When you walk in you are met with a scene that takes your breath away. There in the center of the room your husband Jacaerys stands, dressed in a long, heavy, and expensive red and black regalia, fit for a king.

When you entered the room you were met with the back of him standing still. He was surrounded by several maidservants who are busy adjusting and fastening every piece of his attire, ensuring they fit perfectly for this very crucial day. There are large glass windows in the room and the bright morning light cast a glow on Jacaerys who stands in the center as if the gods themselves are casting their blessings on him for this important day.

His red and black robes are a vision of opulence and power. The material is thick and heavy, a velvety red silk that drapes him gracefully. Sewn into the sleeves, are subtle but intricate designs of sea horses and dragons, to represent both of his houses, each carefully crafted out of shimmering black thread. The back of the robe is longer than the front, pooling on the ground behind him in a dramatic train.

Your own gown had matched Jace’s, something Jace was very insistent on when it came to the designs of them. You are not sure when it started, but sometime during the first year of your marriage you found a lot of your and Jace’s outfits subtly match whether it was a big occasion or not. Your gown though less elaborate than your husband's, it still a vision of beauty fitted perfectly for a queen.

As you silently stand behind him, he meets your eyes in the reflection of the mirror he’s standing in front. A small smile dances across his lips and his dark eyes glitter with affection. It's the same look he gives you every morning when he kisses you awake.

Jacaerys holds up a hand, the gesture causing the maidservants to stop their movements in an instant. "That's enough," he says, his deep voice firm and commanding. "You may leave us."

They curtsey quickly and walk away, shutting the door behind them. Once they are gone, keeping your back straight as much as you could and your head bowing low you curtsey.

“My king.” you say with a teasing grin.

“Stop that.” he playfully rolls his eyes walking over to you. He places a hand on your chin with a tender touch, lifting your head and gesturing for you to stand.

“You look ethereal.” you whisper out, looking into his dark brown eyes with nothing but love and admiration.

“As do you my issa prūmia.” he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Are you nervous?” you ask.

He moves his hands down from your face to holding your hands squeezing them slightly.

“Just a little.” he answers, his shoulder dropping not realizing he was tense the entire time.

You notice this and move one of your hands to caress his cheek to help calm him.

“You should not be, your grandsire and mother were wonderful rulers and they passed everything they know on to you, so I have no doubt you will be just as good.”

He nods leaning into your touch, the warmth of your words and touch calming him a little, but still a small part of him is nervous.

“So does this mean from now on I have to bow when I enter every room you are in.” you tease hoping to lighten the mood.

“Hmm,” he pauses for a moment pretending to think. He then leans in slightly. “Yes, I think you will have to bow before me….Every…..Single……..Time. He says each word deliberately slow meeting your teasing banter

“Oh?“ you quirk and eyebrow feigning surprise. “Does that mean I must always call you my king as well?” you lean in closer causing your lips to be mere inches apart.

“Of course my darling,” he says reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear being very careful not to mess with the elaborate hair do, his fingers then trail along your jawline “I am your king, after all.” He smirks down at you.

“And I am your queen” your eyes had yet to leave his during your entire conversation.

“And a beautiful queen you are.” he presses his lips to yours lingering for a few moments before pulling away.

“And your child and rightful heir.“ you take his hand pressing it to your growing pregnant belly.

Jaceaeyrs feels a rush of emotion at the feeling of your belly under his palm, his eyes drifting down to where your hands meet before looking back up at you, His expression softens further. “Our child” he corrects a protective hand still resting on your stomach.

Your heart swells, though such a small gesture you can’t help but feel emotional that he said ‘our’ instead of his.

He suddenly kneels before you his fingers splaying on the swell of your stomach gently kissing it before resting his forehead on it.

“Our future king or queen.” He whispers out.

Your breath hitches at his unexpected action.

“J-Jace,” you stutter out. “This is unbecoming you are to be king” you say feeling extremely flustered.

He chuckles the sound deep and rich.

“Out there I am, but in here with you I am just a man who loves his wife and unborn child dearly” he plants one more kiss on your bump before standing. He places his hands on your hips bringing you close once more.

You reach out and grab the livery collar, each piece being one of the kingdom’s house sigil. You carefully place it over his shoulder before fastening the last button of the robe and smoothing a hand over his chest.

“Now then, let us get you to your coronation.” You smile

“As you command my queen.”

[starcrossed-lov3rz]

The Vow Spoken Through Time - Part 8

Daemon x Rhaenyra x Wife!Reader

Series: Series Masterlist

Warnings: MDNI, canon-typical violence, threats, yelling, plot

Tags: marriage, poly relationship, Daemon being hopelessly in love with his wives, Queen!Rhaenyra

Words: 1.8K

Description: Y/N is having a rough morning. She's fired. She's hungover. She's in a stranger's bed. She's waking up in a new world? She's married?!

Rhaenyra and Daemon's day started normal. Waking up next to their darling wife before tending to their duties. The difference? Their wife is speaking in riddles and has no memories of them.

Check out more works in my Masterlist!

“Feet together, shoulders back, strong core, and breathe.” Your eyes are closed, finding a moment of peace as you lead your sons through your morning yoga routine.

“This is supposed to be a challenge?”

“That doesn’t sound like breathing Luke,” you laugh, opening your eyes to see the bored look on Luke and Joffrey’s faces. Jace, to his credit, was trying to concentrate. “Inhale as you reach to the sky,” you say as you bring your arms up, “and exhale as you go down.” Exhaling, you fold your body down, hands touching the floor. You lead them through a sun salutation before indulging them in some more complicated poses and sequences.

“Our next pose is Crow, just remember to breathe and find your center.” You demonstrate before walking them through the steps. Yoga was one of the few things about your old life that you refused to give up. Even if you weren’t the most active person before waking up here, yoga and meditation were a huge part of your daily routine. Within a week of being here, you found yourself slipping out of bed early to find a quiet balcony.

The boys had stumbled across your morning flow today, and insisted on giving it a try. It was rare that you shared pieces of your past life with anyone, but their enthusiasm was infectious.

“Ah-” Joffrey lost his balance, falling to the ground in a fit of giggles. 

“So close sweet boy,” you laugh. “Try it again, you almost had it-”

“Mom look, I’m doing it!” 

You gasp, “Luke, that’s it! Hold it, and bre-”

“Breathe! I know!” Luke’s arms are shaking with the effort to keep the position, but you’re impressed he managed to get it on the first try.

Jace leans over and nudges Luke. Luke topples over with a yelp. “Mom, Jace pushed me!”

You struggle to keep from laughing at the petty squabble. It felt so normal and domestic to see them arguing like siblings back home. “Jace, apologize to your brother.” 

Jace grins, “Sorry Luke. Maybe next time if you breathe better you might not fall.”

Joffrey stumbles over to drop into your lap. You stand, propping him on your hip. “On that note my loves, I will be taking Joffrey to the nursery.” You kiss Jace and Luke on the forehead. “You two go freshen up, I will see you both for breakfast.”

They both give you a hug before disappearing. You turn to leave the balcony and nearly run into someone. “That was quite the sight, issa jorrāelagon,” Rhaenyra says, holding out her hands to steady you and Joffrey. [my love]

“Issa Dāria,” you greet her with a kiss. “Were you spying on us?” [My Queen]

“Me, a spy? Never.” Nyra laughs. “I have people for that.” She ruffles Joffrey’s hair before offering her your arm. You slide your free hand into the crook of her elbow, careful to make sure you had a good grip on Joffrey. “Daemon and I are both aware of your little morning ritual.”

“Oh?”

“How do you think no servants disturb you?” Rhaenyra teases. “Daemon and I take turns watching from the stairwell and keeping the staff away.”

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “How long have you both known?”

“Since the first time.” 

“Maybe next time you can join,” you say, bumping your shoulder into Nyra’s gently.

“And forfeit the opportunity to watch your as-”

“Child present!” you hiss, interrupting your wife. Nyra laughs, shaking her head. You both walk the rest of the way to the nursery in silence, listening to Joffrey recount his brave efforts to master the Crow Pose. You drop him at the nursery, asking the maids to help him freshen up while you and Rhaenyra check in on little Aegon and Viserys.

“My queen,” you both stand up as a knight rushes into the room with a bow. “My queen, there is something that requires your immediate attention.”

“Whatever is the matter that it cannot wait until the small council meeting?” Rhaenyra asked. 

“There is a woman demanding an audience.”

“I am holding court later today, she can seek an audience then.”

“She claims knowledge of Lady Y/N’s illness.” 

Your gaze snaps to Rhaenyra and you lock eyes. There is a silent understanding before Nyra answers. “Bring her to the small council chambers and send for Daemon.”

You ask the maids to inform the boys of your absence at breakfast and follow Nyra to the small council chambers. “Do you think she really has an answer?”

“I do not wish to raise any of our hopes,” Rhaenyra sighed. 

Nyra stands by the windows, arms crossed as she waits. You pace the chambers. This was highly unusual. Maesters had come from all corners of the realm to offer their ‘wisdom’ and ‘cures’ for your ailment. This was certainly the first time that someone had showed up to demand an audience with the queen herself. The smallfolk and nobles were not privy to your condition. The maesters were summoned under vague direction and sworn to secrecy.

“Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.” 

Rhaenyra’s kingsguard stand at attention as the doors open to reveal a woman dressed in white, led by Nyra’s knights. You furrow your brows, unable to get a good glimpse of the woman through her cloak. The woman bows deeply to Rhaenyra, then to you. “Your highness. Lady Y/n.”

“And who might you be?” Rhaenyra asks, suspicion lacing her voice.

The woman nods, pulling back the hood of her cloak to reveal a curtain of white hair and cloudy white eyes. She looked young, but there was something about her that felt ancient. “I am no one.” She responds. “I carry a message from the gods.”

Rhaenyra scoffs, “you must be joking. You enter my keep, demand an audience, refuse to identify yourself, and claim to be a messenger of the gods?”

“You need not my name, only hear my words.”

“Which gods bade you come here?”

“The same gods you swore your marital oaths before.” Despite her cloudy eyes, the woman seemed to stare into Nyra. 

“What message do you bring? What do you know of my illness?” You ask, desperate for an answer.

“The worlds-walker speaks?” she grins. 

“Y/n,” Nyra warns. 

“Just tell me your message.”

“Your answers lie in the godswood.” The woman reaches into her pocket, and the knights immediately reach for their swords. Rhaenyra raises her hand, silently ordering them to hold. The woman pulls a necklace from her pocket. 

“Where did you get that?” you ask, voice shaking. “That’s the necklace my gra-”

“Your grandmother gave you on your fifteenth name day,” the woman finishes. She steps forward, placing the chain in your hand, clasping her hands over yours. “You must return to your world, worlds-walker.”

“Watch your words witch,” Nyra says coldly, stepping between you and the woman.

“How do you know of my world?” You ignore Rhaenyra, stepping away to face the woman.

“We are all pieces of ourselves.”

“What does that even mean?” 

“Words alone will not satisfy you. Go to the godswood, worlds-walker.” 

The doors to the small council chambers fling open as Daemon storms in. The woman in white grins. “The dragons circle today.”

“They will do more than circle if you do not explain yourself,” Rhaenyra growls. “Stop speaking in riddles and tell us what awaits us in the godswood.”

“Answers.”

“Daemon.” Rhaenyra doesn’t have to say more than his name before Daemon holds a sword to the woman in white’s throat. “What is in the godswood.”

“Wait!” you put your hand over Daemon’s, trying to pull the sword from the woman’s throat. “What are you doing, she knows what happened to me.”

“The witch speaks in riddles and lies,” Rhaenyra hisses. “Worlds-walkers are a story for children.”

“And dragons are no more than a fairy tale in my world.” You plead. “Please, how did I get here? What is a worlds-walker?”

“Go to the godswood.” The woman in white closes her eyes and pulls her hood up. Everyone in the room gasps as the cloak hits the ground, empty. The woman in white had disappeared, leaving only her cloak behind.

Rhaenyra sighs, “first maesters, and now we are so desperate as to listen to the words of witches?”

“Search the castle for the witch,” Daemon orders the knights.

“My love, I am so sorry for giving you false hope,” Rhaenyra apologizes, pulling you into a side hug. 

You shrug off her hug. “Where is the godswood?”

Rhaenyra and Daemon exchange a glance. “You are not seriously listening to the ramblings of a mad witch?”

“Either take me to the godswood, or I will find it myself.” You clench your necklace tightly. “You still do not believe me? Rhaenyra, she knew who I was, who I really am.”

“You are not a worlds-walker, Y/n!” You flinch slightly as Rhaenyra raises her voice. Her eyes are wide, “My love, I-” Rhaenyra reaches out to grab your hand, but you pull away. She sighs, rubbing her temples. “If it will help us forget this morning, we will visit the godswood.”

“Lead the way.”

Daemon and Rhaenyra walk in front of you in utter silence. Two kingsguard follow the three of you from a distance. Daemon leads the way as you walk through unfamiliar corridors to a garden. The trees sway lightly in the wind, their red leaves dancing.

“This is it?” you ask. “This is the godswood?”

Rhaenyra nods, “we will take you to the heart tree and back. If you do not find your answers here, we will never speak of this again.”

You follow them into the trees. It is eerily quiet in the godswood. The wind makes no noise as it moves through the leaves and branches. No noise of birds chirping or singing. You shiver, hugging your arms to your body to chase away the chill. “Daemon, can I have your cloak?” You look up to see that Daemon and Nyra are gone.

“Daemon?!” You yell. “Rhaenyra?!” There is no response. You turn behind you. The kingsguard are gone as well. “This isn’t funny!”

The hair on your neck stands up, and you whip around to see the woman in white.

“Welcome worlds-walker.”

NOTE: Hey gang! Guess who is finally getting some plot (ya'll). Sorry for the late chapter, I had a Pride parade on Sunday. Please enjoy the SHAMELESS fluff and slice of life before I give you all a very stereotypical vague witch to facilitate the plot. Also, there are some ppl who I can’t tag, so if you’re listed on the tag list and not receiving notifications, please check that your settings are on “allow this blog to appear in search results” or message me if I messed up the spelling! ~ Lacie <3

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[dedicatednotobsessed]

Issa byka rūklon [Daemon Targaryen x Wife!reader]

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Other HOTD stories

Summary: Daemon is feared among men for his battle prowess, finding solace and love in his pure sunshine of a wife. One serene evening, amidst impending war, they steal a moment alone. His wife with gentle hands and a heart full of affection, braids Daemon’s hair, weaving delicate flowers into the strands…

*This was a one shot request from a very special person of mine, my bestie @mrsdaemontargaryen I had asked her to send me a prompt because I have been on such a long hiatus from writing. Writer’s block has not been fun {among personal things but let’s not get into that}. Please enjoy this Daemon one shot and soon enough, I will be taking requests again in time for season two. 🖤*

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You placed a hand on the ghost of your swelling stomach, your violet eyes shining from the fireplace’s flames. The incident was still fresh in your mind, your sister’s screams of calling you a traitor ringing in your ears. It wasn’t a surprise to see the twins together in Storm’s End, having been inseparable since birth, but you never thought Adryana* would try to murder you.

You turned your head slightly, hearing the footsteps, letting out a soft sigh, and feeling your husband wrap an arm around your waist and pull you back into his chest. “Is it done?”

Daemon nodded, nuzzling his nose into your silver hair. “Soon enough, she will feel the pain you felt.”

You took a deep breath, looking ahead. When Daemon was writing to his friends in the capital, you had mentioned to him how you wanted Adryana to feel the same pain you felt when she took her unborn babe from you. He added, “Along with the usurper’s son, take the life of his brother’s son.”

“I don’t want you to feel guilty,” Daemon whispered in your ear as though he could read your mind. “Those green cunts didn’t feel anything killing Luke and our child. You shouldn’t either.”

You nodded in agreement, furrowing your brows. “Can we go on a walk?” You knew this would be the last calm moment before Westeros is thrown into chaos.

You turned in Daemon’s arms, smiling a small smile when he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Of course, my love.”

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You wrapped your hands around Daemon’s arm as he led you down the familiar path toward Aegon’s Garden. During the day, it was a favorite spot for your young son, Alyster, to play in; he especially enjoyed the cranberries that grew there. The eye of the dragon statue glistened in the moonlight the closer you got, lifting your dress slightly so it did not drag too much through the grass.

You thanked Daemon quietly when he helped you into the plush grass, a hum passing your lips as you began to pick at the small white wildflowers surrounding you mindlessly. Since you’ve woken up from the incident, the two of you have rarely spent time alone, with Alyster not leaving your side and Daemon being preoccupied with the small council. For the first time in a long time, you felt peace.

Once he sat down, you moved to sit behind your husband, your fingers gingerly taking a section of his hair and beginning to work it in a braid. His hair was not as long as it once was but manageable. You smiled, hearing the light chuckle coming from him.

“What?” You asked as you grabbed one of the wildflowers you picked, placing it carefully within the braid.

Daemon kept his eyes ahead, a small smile forming on his features. “I’m only thinking back to our wedding day.”

“Our wedding day?” You repeated while beginning to braid another section of his hair, adding the little flowers as you went.

Daemon hummed in response. “You wanted to braid my hair that day, too.”

You smiled at the memory. You had a traditional Valyrian wedding against your mother’s wishes. You were never one to listen to your mother, to begin with, having gone against her wishes to become Rhaenyra’s ward at fifteen, shortly after Laena’s funeral, and two years later becoming Daemon’s third wife. Now, at the age of three-and-two, the two of you had a six-year-old son, a son your mother and father only met once.

“I’m hoping this war will be over quickly,” Daemon spoke quietly, breaking the silence.

You hummed, leaning back to examine your creation. “I do not want to talk about war this evening, my love,” You said softly, placing a few more flowers in the braids with a soft smile.

You enjoyed the calm moments while you could, not knowing if this would be your last one together. The war began when Aemond and Adryana struck in Storm’s End, and you knew Daemon would be restless until every one of their heads was on spikes. You were to cherish these moments while they lasted.

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You hummed as the sun filtered through the windows, stirring slightly only to feel the side beside you cold. You furrowed your brows while rubbing your eyes as you sat up, your stomach still sore from your injuries.

“You do not want to go to the small council like that?” You asked teasingly, seeing Daemon picking out the white flowers, having slept in them.

He chuckled, looking down at the small pile forming beside him at the vanity. “I’m not sure it would be proper attire for a small council meeting.”

You scrunched up your nose while slowly getting out of bed. Wrapping your silken robe around you, you walked up behind your husband, meeting his violet eyes in the mirror.

“Issa byka rūklon*,” Daemon said softly, placing his hand on your arm when you wrapped them around his neck.

You hummed lightly. “I prefer when you call me aōha vēzos*.”

Daemon laughed. “No one else can hear that.”

You smirked, moving back so Daemon could get up. You straightened his doublet for him, scrunching up your nose when he placed two fingers under your chin, making you look up.

“I love you, Y/N,” Daemon whispered, moving his hand to your cheek.

“I love you too,” You replied, meeting his lips in a short, sweet kiss.

You watched him pull away after a moment, a small smirk forming on your features. You noticed the stray flower tucked in the waves of his hair.

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“You’re late, Daemon,” Corlys spoke up, seeing the Prince enter the council chambers.

“You should already know that I enjoy making late, dramatic entrances,” Daemon replied simply, sliding into the empty seat on Rhaenyra’s right.

Rhaenyra eyed her uncle curiously, tilting her head. “Daemon,” She called to him, clearing her throat while motioning to her hair.

Daemon furrowed his brows, reaching up to feel the soft petals of the single wildflower he had forgotten about. He untangled it from his hair, looking down at it with a soft sigh.

“Is the Rogue Prince going soft?” Lord Celtigar questioned with a laugh.

“I believe he is,” Corlys agreed.

Daemon only scoffed as the Black Council erupted in laughter, Rhaenyra even adding a giggle of her own. He sighed as the jesting continued around him, his eyes staying on the wildflower in his hand. He twirled it on its tiny stem, his mind wandering back to his wife, their son, and the babe they had lost.

There was no guarantee of surviving this kin war, but Daemon was determined to win it so that he and his family could finally live the peaceful life they had long desired.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

*Adryana: Adryana Targaryen is my original character for House of the Dragon. She is the youngest daughter and fifth child of King Viserys and Queen Alicent (The reader is the eldest daughter and child). She is wed to her twin brother, Aemond, and they have a set of twins together; a son named Vanar and a daughter named Vhaenys. She is known to have a short temper and often accused her eldest sister of abandoning her to live with Rhaenyra on Dragonstone. She also felt hurt when she sided with Rhaenyra's children during the Driftmark incident. Her temper overflowed when her eldest sister made a comment about how their father would be disappointed in the twins and their actions after reuniting in Storm's End, ultimately resulting in Adryana attempting to kill her and the unborn babe. The eldest sister lived, but the unborn babe did not, leading to her and Daemon planning revenge on Lucerys and their child.

*Issa byka rūklon: High Valyrian for my little flower.

*aōha vēzos: High Valyrian for your sun.

[gladiatorcunt]

summary: (dark lite) heir!jacaerys x afab servant!reader

cw: sweat/jace being a weirdo about it, dubcon, frottage, implied virginity loss, intentional use of minimal valyrian & i used a translator so don’t come for me, implications of jace intending to marry reader with or without their consent/reader thinking this is just sex but 💀, he didn’t say it but he would kill his family to make you queen, power imbalance (sorry y’all i just like it), wrote this at a vibrator’s pace (/j) so there are zero thoughts behind it

wc: 888 (✨🕯️)

block & move on if uncomfortable !!

do not translate, repost, or give ai my work

kinktober masterlist

“I am not certain about this, Jace…” You mumble, tugging at his sleeve so he’ll stop running towards his chambers. “I have to perform my duties in the kitchen, there is hardly time for this.”

Jacaerys Velaryon disarms you with a charming smile, too genuine and heartfelt to not return.

“No one will notice if I arrive at dinner a tad later than usual, there is no need to worry.”

The door is swiftly opened and shut in the blink of an eye. You find yourself gathered up in the prince’s arms and the swat to your bottom urges you to wrap your legs around his waist.

King’s Landing’s sweltering sun beats down on you from the window. Minuscule beads of sweat have already accumulated at your brow. Jacaerys hunches over you to lap them up as if he were a thirsty mutt, you can only wrinkle your nose in aversion.

“Perhaps we should allow ourselves time to get to know each other before we do this, my prince.” You attempt to convince him, upholding your mother’s belief that intimacy is to be between married folks only. It does not mean you shudder in repulsion at the thought of Jacaerys making love to you. Only that your shame will always best your lust in battle.

“Yet I feel as if I have already known you for a lifetime, issa rūklon (my flower).” He whispers, brushing a hand against the blossom he had tucked behind your ear. The pronunciation is not as confident as someone like his mother’s.

Innocent walks in the gardens with a prince were only a gateway to depravity, you suppose.

You breath hitches when his lips ghost along your collarbone. You would do well to remember that Jaceaery has the potential to be as much of a dragon as the rest of his strange kin.

Your trembling hands clutch at the prince’s bare shoulders. His clothes tossed aside with little care, all of his attention on you. To push him away or bring him closer… you are wracked with indecision.

“Shh, be calm. You are the safest you have ever been, in my arms and in my bed.” The constant repetition of possessiveness is heightened by the glint of gold in Jacaerys’s irises.

“Lift your hips for me, ābrazyrys (wife).” Your brow furrows at the unfamiliar pet name, but you pay it no mind.

Your flimsy dress glides down your body, the cheap strings tying it together are in tatters.

Jacaerys offers you no respite and instead brings both of your wrists together in one hand, pinning them to the bed over your head.

“I am still a maiden, my prince, I have never even kissed a man before.” You nervously say.

His adoring smile widens, “I know, it is the same reason I decline offers to visit the brothels. Our firsts were meant to be shared with each other.”

The soft glow of candlelight illuminates Jacaerys hovering over you, allowing the sexual tension to build. Your grip on his shoulders slackens and you weave your calloused fingers into his brown hair.

If only you knew how much it reminded Jacaerys of his mother’s wedding to Daemon, the looks they exchanged as they tied their souls together.

“We have all the time in the world.” He reassures you, despite the fact that it was obviously not true. “I’ll be gentle”.

You gasp as he cups your cheek with his free hand and gently drops his body weight onto you.

He seizes your lips in a bruising kiss that you would have previously thought him incapable of. The roughness of his tongue entangling with yours drives you to tighten your hold on his hair and pull it. Jacaerys moans at the infliction of pain and rubs his naked flesh against you. The friction of the slow movements are suddenly frustrating, you feel the oddest desire for him to move faster.

You whine in unison with him when you separate from the kiss, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips. He licks it away with a flick of his tongue as he eyes bore into yours.

“Does that feel good, ābrazyrys (wife)? Your cunt is becoming wetter by the second.” He laughs, not cruelly, and continues grinding against your body.

“Yes…. my prince…. it feels …. so, mmm- amazing.” You struggle to reply, he was not even inside you and yet here you were bearing a striking resemblance to an animal in heat.

The sweat that your bodies produce makes the rutting sloppy, you have to frequently regain your hold on Jacaerys. His cock glides over your cunt and you throw your head back on the pillows. Something wet and sticky is smearing all over your belly every time he ruts against you.

This goes on until your body tenses up, your eyes widen and it is as if your gut clenches. Foolishly, you tug at his hair again but he just mouths ‘Yes!’ with his eyes screwed shut tightly as he keeps grinding. Your cunt pulses and a mix of white and clear fluid erupts from it and drips down to greet Jacaerys’s balls. His pace stutters then he glances down at the sight.

“Gods…. you served me a great deal. It is surely delicious, but I do hope that you are ready for me to return the favor.”

[bellarkeselection]

Hey could you write for Daemon targaryen like while he's being haunted in harnehal he finds his comfort in a prisoner and falls in love with her targaryen type of love and obsession and he married her like his second wife something he listens to her obeys her admires her while he fights war for rahaenya right guess she isn't happy with their marriage but have to accept as he's crucial for her but later on when they're leading she asks him her head so they both escaped with caraxes alive to anywhere you want

His Compass of Harrenhal

Tag list - @only4thefics @superintenseart @universallyrascaldreamercookie

This request will have a couple of parts to it so enjoy and if you want to be added send that below in the comments 😊

I could hear footsteps slowly coming through the castle that I was forced to be a prisoner in. Not physically but mentally inside my mind for years and years to come. Sneaking through the hallway near the kitchen I raised my sword until I jumped around the corner feeling the cold tip of a sword against my throat. “Show yourself you ghost!”

“Not before you reveal yourself first!” I heard a deep man’s voice shifting my gaze up to meet his purple eyes that could only belong to a Targaryen.

I gulped slightly nervous that I must still be having another nightmare. “What is your name, ghost?”

“I’m no ghost, strange woman. I am Daemon Targaryen. The future king of the Seven Kingdoms. Now who the hell are you!” He growled under his breath glaring his eyes deadly in my direction.

The tip of my sword was pointed up against the fabric of his tunic shirt while he had his sword end up against my throat. Both of us never lowered our weapons while we spoke to one another. “My name is Y/n, Y/n Tully. I was wed to the late lord of this castle until I started hearing and seeing things that didn’t make sense. I’ve been attempting to escape ever since he called me a witch.”

“He’s named you a prisoner then?” Daemon raised a brow at me.

Shaking my head, I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. “I’m not quite sure anymore. I haven’t been able to trust my own mind to tell me what is real and what is fake for far too many years. Why are you here, if you’re truly here.”

“Have you known any of these ghosts you see to ever have a sword pressing against your throat.” He questioned me.

I replied, beginning to lower my blade off of his chest. “I can’t say that they ever have.”

“Then we may not be alone in whatever is going on inside this dreadful castle.” He placed his sword back in his belt, walking into the kitchen and I followed him knowing it was probably a better option then going back alone to my old chamber room. I couldn’t stand the idea of being a prisoner here anymore than I already had because I feared I wouldn’t make it through another night on my own. Not without Daemon by my side.

I wasn’t sure how long I had been staring into the burning flames of one of the candles I was holding in one hand and my sword tightly clenched in the other. The rain hadn’t stopped at all during the day and I didn’t believe it was going to stop throughout the night either. Hearing footsteps coming into the chambers I scrambled to my feet I spun around aiming my blade towards the shut window until someone put their hand over my mouth causing me to go into fight or flight mode. “Get your fucking hands off of me - gah!” I screamed attempting to cut the ghost with my blade.

“Gīda ilagon. Gīda ilagon, issa klios ābrazȳrys ( Calm down. Calm down, my fish wife ).” I sucked in a breath feeling the tension in my body beginning to fade recognizing the voice that spoke in my ear.

Closing my eyes I paused lowering my sword asking him a question. “Issi ao se vala nyke call issa zaldrīzes dārys? ( Are you the man I call my dragon king? ).”

Daemon’s voice whispered in my ear, hot breath framing on the side of my neck. “Kessa, issa byka ābrazȳrys ( Yes, my little wife ).”

“Daemon!” I squealed out in such a relief flinging my arms around his neck letting my sword clank to the floor without a care in the world knowing that he wasn’t in fact another ghost attempting to haunt my mind night after night.

He wrapped his arms around my waist clinging onto me like he needed me to physically breathe. He buried his nose into my hair barely letting some tears be shed from his eyes. “Y/n.”

Unaware of how long we had been there together we had come up with our own secret code system that we made sure no one else knew except for the two of us and us alone. He was fluent in high valyrian and very few people who weren’t a part of the Targaryen family could speak it. So he would teach me every chance he could when he wasn’t trying to raise an army for his queen and former wife Rhaenyra.

“Touch me, Daemon.” I muttered under my breath barely pulling away from his embrace. Needing just a tiny bit more proof that it was truly him.

He moved his hands up to cradle the sides of my face in his own hands , crashing his lips down onto mine in a very deep kiss leaving me breathless when he broke it. “I’m here, Y/n. Your dragon husband is right in front of you.”

Wrapping my arms around his neck I drew him in for another long kiss. He threaded one of his hands into my hair drawing out a moan from me. We remained attached to one another making our way back to the bed where I collapsed onto my back with him hovering above me.

Wrapping my arms around his neck I went to kiss him but a loud knock came from the other side of the door. “You’ve got to be freaking kidding me.”

“I’ll go tell the asshole to leave.” Daemon got up from the bed, flinging the door opened seeing the caretaker of Harrenhal. “What the hell do you want this late hour!”

The man extended his hand holding out a letter. “A letter from Dragonstone, my king.”

“Who’s it from?” I asked him sliding down off the bed walking over to him, taking it from his hands and tearing it open. I began reading it aloud since Daemon seemed to be in no mood for any company tonight except for me. “Dear Daemon, I have been wondering how the search for men for my army is going. It’s been quite a while since I’ve heard anything from you so this is me asking for an answer. I need more men to secure my throne and my birthright. Keep your word and loyalty to your queen and wife , Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

“You’re first wife. She’s the one the late king Viserys named his rightful heir right?” I asked him sitting the letter down on the nearest table.

Daemon lowered his purple eyes to meet my gaze. “She’s actually my second wife. My first died on her horse, then her until the night I met you in this castle. I need to give her an army to help her take the throne back.”

“You’ll need the support of the Riverlords. House Tully controls how loyal they are. I can speak to Lord Grover for you.” I draped my arms over his neck and he put his hands on my hips bringing me closer to his body.

Daemon smiled widely down at me, kissing me deeply a second time not caring the lord was here. “Brilliant and beautiful I certainly won with you Lady Y/n Tully.”

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[berberriescorner]

“Are You Listening?”

Interlude: “Drinks On Me, Yeah?”

Characters: Rio x Black!Reader.

Summary: Issa Interlude, mama. Expect the unexpected.

Warnings: Profanity, angst, fluff, and drinking-little libation for the one, two.

Word Count: 1,700+.

A/N: My lovelies! My babies! Mama’s back and I got a little sum-sum for ya! Let’s start this weekend with a little Rio and the crew, yeah? Yeah. I want to give so many thanks to all of you sweet lovelies who have been rocking with me this entire time. Most of you know that the past year and a half has been quite the struggle. To everybody who took time out of your day to come and check in on me, please know that I’m appreciative and forever grateful to have connected with such amazing people🥹♥️. Thank you for all the sweet, hilarious comments and asks as well💓. I’m a little rusty, so be gentle with your girl. Enjoy my sweet babies.  Before anyone asks, yes, I’ve been working on Pt. 4😂😏😈.

"Are You Listening?" - The Playlist

Apple Music.

Spotify.

Part One Here.

Part Two Here.

Part Three Here.

Inspired By:

Your body pressed down into the plush mattress as you reveled in the comfort and security of being home. Your mind replayed the image of your mom snatching the door open, the two of you hugging tightly, rocking side to side. You had spent the past week trying to survive final exams and warding off the many questions of, “What’s wrong, baby girl?” The woman who gave you life knew you all too well. Sensing that her youngest baby was struggling, her attempts to get you to open up over the phone went unanswered. With the semester complete, being home didn’t leave much space to dodge the knowing gaze in her eyes. 

That master’s degree will probably be a waste of time.

The moment you pulled away from the hug, she cupped your chin, and your poker face cracked as the tears cascaded down your cheeks. Two hours later, you filled her in on everything from the stress of school, financial aid, working doubles, and the fresh crack in your heart that was taking its sweet-ass time to heal. All of which had only taken about forty minutes to stutter out. The talk and her comfort had left you wiped out, and just like any amazing mother would do, she sent you to your room for a nap and got to work on preparing comfort food.

You considered dozing off for a bit more rest, but your bedroom door flew open, bouncing off the corner of your vanity. Your eyes narrowed to mere slits as you started to curse your oldest brother out. His hand raising halted the verbal reprimand.

“Alena’s big-headed ass is here to see ya mean ass,” he snarked about the woman who would eventually become his wife.

These two bitches are so in love. It’s sickening. The attraction is so annoyingly obvious. Shit makes me sick to my stomach.

Before you could tell him you didn’t want company, she was already in the doorframe. “Uh-uh, bitch you are not about to dodge me for another two weeks.” With those words said, you had no choice but to give her a rundown of what had transpired. Not only had she forced you to divulge every last detail while the two of you hugged and cried together. She also took it upon herself to wiggle you into your best freakum dress and head out for a girl’s night.

Being the baby and the only girl in your family made for very over-the-top protective parents. The moment your father saw your attire, he wouldn’t let up. He was hell-bent on forcing your brothers to chaperone.

It wasn’t a horrible idea.  Only you didn’t like your independence challenged. Luckily, the older siblings were pretty chill, so long as no one was overly aggressive. They had taught you how to handle shit for yourself at a young age. You spent the first half hour in the club pouting and ready to go home to wallow in self-misery.

“Hoe! If you don’t fix your face, scaring off every good-looking man in this club!”

“They’ll be alright, so long as they keep their distance. In case you didn’t get the memo after our long talk. Men make my ass itch,” you growled, kissing your teeth.

“Whateva, you and that stank attitude can have a good time together,” she sassed, throwing up a hand and walking away from the bar.”

“Where are you going? Alena!”

“I’ll be back, damn! Let me go on and annoy them, fine-ass brothers of yours. Be nice, and don’t bite nobody head off, sourpuss.”

“Always thirsting after my blood, just triflin’.”

With the flick of a middle finger, she sauntered over to their section. You could see the irritation rolling off them as she seated herself in the middle. The arguing started seconds later. Your eye twitched at the sight. Swinging the barstool back toward the liquor, you were about to pass the time scrolling through social media. Instead, a set of bronzed-colored, muscular digits came into view. They gently pressed your phone to the bar as the matching digits slid another lemon drop into view. Your eyes danced along those muscular fingers, trailing upward until they landed on one of the sexiest faces you’d ever witnessed. If any other man would’ve done this, he would’ve been set straight expeditiously. In this instance, ole boy was just too damn fine, and it left you on mute. The corners of his mouth lifted into a handsome smirk.

The stranger turned his barstool to get closer. One hand rested on the bar while the other cradled the back of your seat. His eyes roamed over your body, lip tucking between his teeth, matching you stare for stare. He chuckled when he noticed your quirked eyebrow.

“I don’t mean to intrude on ya evening, but I figured you could use another drink.”

“Is that so?”

“Couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with your friend. I’m tryin’ to  figure out why these men got your fine ass itching out here.”

Shit, he heard that? Floor, open up and swallow me. That’s so damn embarrassing.

As if reading your thoughts, he continued, “Nothing to be embarrassed about, mama. There’s a lot of boys running around here pretending to be men. Who was crazy enough to fumble you? He gotta be the dumbest man on earth.”

As if on cue, said fumbler’s name popped up on your caller ID. With a swipe of a finger, the phone went silent. You turned back to your new admirer. He had signaled for another round of drinks.

“Either you’re a big spender, or the bartender is your connect,” you teased.

“Connect is one way of putting it. This my spot, darlin’.”

He chuckled as you damn near choked on your drink.

“I’m sorry. Tend to put my foot in my mouth.”

“You good. I like a woman who’s not afraid to speak her mind. Dealing with me, you go to say it with your chest.”

“Oh, so you plan to be around me beyond tonight?”

“Around, underneath, on top. We locked in, mama,” he insisted, licking his lips.

“I don’t even know your name, fool,” you cackled at his cockiness.

“Name’s Rio, but you can call me Christopher, mama. My future wife needs to know my government name. I’m putting my trust in you. Don’t be tellin’ my business, sweetheart.”

“Who says I’m checking for you, Rio?”

“You accepted my company and drinks. Deep down, you’re intrigued by me. Ain’t no need to hide it. When I see something I want, gotta go after it, mama.” he rasped, voice lowering to a panty-dropping level.

“You’re trouble. I just know it.”

Rio planted both hands on your thighs. The gasp that escaped you lit his brown orbs with passion.

“Can I have your undivided attention for the night? Want to get to know you better, mama.”

Grabbing his outstretched hand, he helped you down off the stool.

“Rio…”

Piercing light flickered in the darkness, pulling you from the memory that played itself in your dreams. Your hand snatched the vibrating phone from the table. Your orbs squinted to read the screen, teeth clenching in frustration.

Fucking Rio, I can’t even get away from him in my sleep. Stupid-handsome-asshole.

With a single tap, the phone rested on DND. You closed off from the world to find a peaceful slumber, only to wake from another dream. Throwing the covers back, you startled, feeling the bed dip. His cologne wafted through the air, and your eyes connected.

“Why all the tossing and turning, amor? Hmm,” he rasped, hand trailing up your arm. His warm palm cradled the side of your neck, rubbing away some of the tension.

“Sorry, did my restlessness wake you?”

“No, querida. I’ve been up taking care of some things.”

“Same old Miguel. Everything business. Still don’t sleep much, huh?”

His eyes crinkled with a small smile, but you could also see sadness. It’s the same unhappiness that’s always lingered, only now accompanied by sparks of anger and resentment. Your mind replayed his words in the elevator.

Where’s your wife, Miguel?

She had other plans tonight.

The slightest mention of her had nearly sent his mood spiraling. You weren’t privy to what was happening in his marriage but didn’t want to pry. He would only reverse card uno your ass. Miguel would insist that you vent about your own life and frustrations.

“Thank you for taking the couch,” you nibbled at your lip. 

There was a hint of frustration and guilt lingering in your chest. Not being able to sleep without dreaming of Rio left you feeling conflicted. Part of you wanted to say to hell with loyalty. Being in such a vulnerable state had you craving to be held and cuddled, but regardless of circumstance, the two of you were very much married. Concern swam in the pools of his eyes. Miguel sensed the ongoing dilemma in your head, and his fingers gently cupped your chin.

“Hey, talk to me. What’s all this,” he asked, tugging the lip between your teeth. “Tell me what you need.”

“I can’t,” you sighed.

“You can, and you will. Look at me,” he insisted as your eyes locked.

“Anything you ask me. It won’t leave this room. You need me to hold you until sleep takes over, amor?”

Unable to verbally say it, you gave him a slight head nod. Removing his tie, watch, and shoes, he made it over to the opposite side of the bed. Miguel got right to it, not giving you time to overthink it. He pulled you into his chest, arms engulfing you in a tight hug.

“Were you having nightmares, cariño?”

“No, just happy memories reminding me of the present painful ones,” you replied, voice filling with unshed tears.

“You want to talk about it?”

Silence filled the room as Miguel continued, “We don’t have to ta-.”

His sentence cut short as he felt the tremors and your head burrowed into his side. Miguel’s heart cracked at the sound of the sobs falling from your lips. His arms pulled you further into him until there was no space left, and the palm of his hand rubbed at your head.

“Shhh, you’re okay. I’m here,” he cooed, leaving soft kisses on the crown of your head.

Miguel continued to whisper calming words. You cried until your head pounded, and sleep took over.

Hope you all enjoyed that little peek into how Rio pulled up on your girl for the first time. He saw something he liked, and he had to have you🥰. We’ll just call this a vague moment of insight into upcoming events...if that makes sense 😆. If you enjoyed please be sure to hit the love button, comment, and reblog. Spread the love, my babies.

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[soracities]

what are your suggestions for starter poetry for people who dont have strong reading/analysis backgrounds

I've answered this a few times so I'm going to compile and expand them all into one post here.

I think if you haven't read much poetry before or aren't sure of your own tastes yet, then poetry anthologies are a great place to start: many of them will have a unifying theme so you can hone in based on a subject that interests you, or pick your way through something more general. I haven't read all of the ones below, but I have read most of them; the rest I came across in my own readings and added to my list either because I like the concept or am familiar with the editor(s) / their work:

Staying Alive: Real Poems for Unreal Times (ed. Nick Astley) & Being Alive: The Sequel to Staying Alive (there's two more books in this series, but I'm recommending these two just because it's where I started)

The Rattlebag (ed. Seamus Heaney and Ted Hughes)

The Ecco Anthology of International Poetry (ed. Ilya Kaminsky & Susan Harris)

The Essential Haiku, Versions of Basho, Buson and Issa (ed. Robert Hass)

A Book of Luminous Things (ed. Czesław Miłosz )

Now and Then: The Poet's Choice Columns by Robert Hass (this may be a good place to start if you're also looking for commentary on the poems themselves)

Poetry Unbound: 50 Poems to Open Your World(ed. Pádraig Ó'Tuama)

African American Poetry: 250 Years of Struggle and Song (ed. Kevin Young)

The Art of Losing: Poems of Grief and Healing (ed. Kevin Young)

Lifelines: Letters from Famous People about their Favourite Poems

The following lists are authors I love in one regard or another and is a small mix of different styles / time periods which I think are still fairly accessible regardless of what your reading background is! It's be no means exhaustice but hopefully it gives you even just a small glimpse of the range that's available so you can branch off and explore for yourself if any particular work speaks to you.

But in any case, for individual collections, I would try:

anything by Sara Teasdale

Devotions / Wild Geese / Felicity by Mary Oliver

Selected Poems and Prose by Christina Rossetti

Collected Poems by Langston Hughes

Where the Sidewalk Endsby Shel Silverstein

Morning Haiku by Sonia Sanchez

Revolutionary Letters, Diane di Prima

Concerning the Book That Is the Body of the Beloved by Gregory Orr

Rose: Poems by Li-Young Lee

A Red Cherry on a White-Tiled Floor / Barefoot Souls by Maram al-Masri

Deaf Republic by Ilya Kaminsky

Tell Me: Poems / What is This Thing Called Love? by Kim Addonizio

The Trouble with Poetry by Billy Collins (Billy Collins is THE go-to for accessible / beginner poetry in my view so I think any of his collections would probably do)

Crush by Richard Siken

Rapture / The World's Wife by Carol Ann Duffy

The War Works Hard by Dunya Mikhail

Selected Poems by Walt Whitman

View with a Grain of Sand by Wislawa Szymborska

Collected Poems by Vasko Popa

Under Milkwood by Dylan Thomas (this is a play, but Thomas is a poet and the language & structure is definitely poetic to me)

Bright Dead Things: Poems by Ada Limón

Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth by Warsan Shire,

Nostalgia, My Enemy: Selected Poems by Saadi Youssef

As for individual poems:

“Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver

[Dear The Vatican] erasure poem by Pádraig Ó'Tuama // "The Pedagogy of Conflict"

"Good Bones" by Maggie Smith

"The Author Writes the First Draft of His Weddings Vows (An erasure of Virginia Woolf's suicide letter to her husband, Leonard)" by Hanif Abdurraqib

"I Can Tell You a Story" by Chuck Carlise

"The Sciences Sing a Lullabye" by Albert Goldbarth

"One Last Poem for Richard" by Sandra Cisneros

"We Lived Happily During the War" by Ilya Kaminsky

“I’m Explaining a Few Things”by Pablo Neruda

"Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening" //"Nothing Gold Can Stay"//"Out, Out--" by Robert Frost

"Tablets: I // II // III"by Dunya Mikhail

"What Were They Like?" by Denise Levertov

"Those Winter Sundays" by Robert Hayden,

"The Patience of Ordinary Things" by Pat Schneider

“I, too” // "The Negro Speaks of Rivers” // "Harlem” // “Theme for English B” by Langston Hughes

“The Mower” // "The Trees" // "High Windows" by Philip Larkin

“The Leash” // “Love Poem with Apologies for My Appearance” // "Downhearted" by Ada Limón

“The Flea” by John Donne

"The Last Rose of Summer" by Thomas Moore

"Beauty" // "Please don't" // "How it Adds Up" by Tony Hoagland

“My Friend Yeshi” by Alice Walker

"De Humanis Corporis Fabrica"byJohn Burnside

“What Do Women Want?” // “For Desire” // "Stolen Moments" // "The Numbers" by Kim Addonizio

“Hummingbird” // "For Tess" by Raymond Carver

"The Two-Headed Calf" by Laura Gilpin

“Bleecker Street, Summer” by Derek Walcott

“Dirge Without Music” // "What Lips My Lips Have Kissed" by Edna St. Vincent Millay

“Digging” // “Mid-Term Break” // “The Rain Stick” // "Blackberry Picking" // "Twice Shy" by Seamus Heaney

“Dulce Et Decorum Est”by Wilfred Owen

“Notes from a Nonexistent Himalayan Expedition”by Wislawa Szymborska

"Hour" //"Medusa" byCarol Ann Duffy

“The More Loving One” // “Musée des Beaux Arts” by W.H. Auden

“Small Kindnesses” // "Feeding the Worms" by Danusha Laméris

"Down by the Salley Gardens” // “The Stolen Child” by W.B. Yeats

"The Thing Is" by Ellen Bass

"The Last Love Letter from an Entymologist" by Jared Singer

"[i like my body when it is with your]" by e.e. cummings

"Try to Praise the Mutilated World" by Adam Zagajewski

"The Cinnamon Peeler" by Michael Ondaatje

"Last Night I Dreamed I Made Myself" by Paige Lewis

"A Dream Within a Dream" // "The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe (highly recommend reading the last one out loud or listening to it recited)

"Ars Poetica?" // "Encounter" // "A Song on the End of the World"by Czeslaw Milosz

"Wandering Around an Albequerque Airport Terminal” // "Two Countries” // "Kindness” by Naoimi Shihab Nye

"Slow Dance” by Matthew Dickman

"The Archipelago of Kisses" // "The Quiet World" by Jeffrey McDaniel

"Mimesis" by Fady Joudah

"The Great Fires" // "The Forgotten Dialect of the Heart" // "Failing and Flying" by Jack Gilbert

"The Mermaid" // "Virtuosi" by Lisel Mueller

"Macrophobia (Fear of Waiting)" by Jamaal May

"Someday I'll Love Ocean Vuong" by Ocean Vuong

"Still I Rise" by Maya Angelou

I would also recommend spending some times with essays, interviews, or other non-fiction, creative or otherwise (especially by other poets) if you want to broaden and improve how you read poetry; they can help give you a wider idea of the landscape behind and beyond the actual poems themselves, or even just let you acquaint yourself with how particular writers see and describe things in the world around them. The following are some of my favourites:

Upstream: Essays by Mary Oliver

"Theory and Play of the Duende" by Federico García Lorca

"The White Bird" and "Some Notes on Song" by John Berger

In That Great River: A Notebook by Anna Kamienska

A Little Devil in America: Notes in Praise of Black Performance by Hanif Abdurraqib

The Book of Delights by Ross Gay

"Of Strangeness That Wakes Us" and "Still Dancing: An Interview with Ilya Kaminsky" by Ilya Kaminsky

"The Sentence is a Lonely Place" by Garielle Lutz

Still Life with Oysters and Lemon by Mark Doty

Paris, When It's Naked by Etel Adnan

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Elon being cool

Stephen King: submitted for the approval of the midnight society, i call this- Elon Musk: [rising from bushes] eyy stephano king Musk: mi amico eyyyy! King: we're not friends elon Musk: eyyy! stephano king! why you so obsessed with me? King: Musk: ok ok i will give you a child

King: i'm sorry, what Musk: i will give you a child Musk: whatsamatta for you? Musk: i say the same thing to taylor swift! King: oh King: uh King: how'd that work out? Musk: Musk: issa good Musk: she thinka ima real cool now

Donald Trump: [visibly melting] nickels used to have pictures of bumblebees but now they don't because [unintelligible slurred speech, it is not clear which slur is intended] Taylor Swift: yeah i think i'm going with kamala Musk: mama mia!!! issa outrage!!

Musk: mama mia!! you thinka you canna have opinions, taylor swift?? i rapa dat outta you! King: elon, you can't say that! King: that's terrible! Musk: eh? wottsamattayouface? Musk: alla my fans they applaud, dey clappa da hands Musk: dey say "masterful gambit, sir!"

Musk: taylor swift, i protecta you cat and give you a child! Musk: see, itsa funny because da woman, i dismissa her opinions! Musk: ima very cool! Musk: i sleepa in a cybertruck, where you sleepa stephano king? King: i sleep in a big bed with my wife

King: elon, you can't just say you're going to give taylor swift a child! Musk: eyyy whassa problem? Musk: i just mean i give her a child! Musk: i haffa 20 i don't use, she can haffa any one she want!

Musk: she can haffa Alpha Exsilon Musk, Xanforth Musk, Xanax Xylophone Musk, Xim Xim Xabbadoo Musk, xXx: The Return of Xander Cage Musk, or Evangelion Use The Force Musk Simpsons Meme Musk Musk: but not Alchemical Symbol for Cobalt Musk Musk: imma not bored with him yet

Musk: you know i kissa da taylor swift? she really lika me Musk: see? dissa really happen [displays AI image of Musk kissing Taylor Swift] Musk: eh? issa pretty cool eh? King: how old are you elon Musk: i'm 53 Musk: [drinking from a sippy cup] why you ask?

[claymoresword]

The Realm's Delight

Rhaenyra Targaryen x Velaryon Fem!Reader

Summary: The entire realm of suitors tripping over themselves to take Rhaenyra to wife and yet the only person she has eyes for is you.

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader

Wordcount: 1k

Warnings: smut, nsfw, top!rhaenyra

Note: first and foremost reader and rhaenyra are cousins clearly so if that bothers u maybe skip this one :/

been putting off writing rhaenyra for so long bc her characterisation is a little intimidating to me but i got over that fear finally (i think)

anyway i hope u enjoy this silly little thing and let me know what u think!

(sorry for the inaccurate high valyrian i dont speak the language)

You let out a yawn, the sheer banality of this morning's affair was shocking to you.

At Rhaenyra's request you were sat by her side as she listened to petitions from various Lords from all over the realm offering her their hand in marriage.

You scowl at the man before you, he had been going on about the state of his castle. Nothing of interest to you and certainly not to the Princess. If this was his idea of wooing a lady only the gods knew how he would be like as a husband.

"Bisa vala iksis uēpkta than aōha kepa."

(This man is older than your father.)

Rhaenyra's face contorts in amusement at your remark before looking down at her hands, fiddling with her rings out of disinterest.

"Tell me, lord Dondarrion did you think my great grandmother was as beautiful as they say?"

The Princess interupts the man mid sentence and you shake your head in disapproval.

Rhaenyra..

"This was half a century ago Princess" Lord Dondarrion responds, perplexed.

"Yes it was."

The entire court erupts with laughter, you stiffle a grin yourself.

The older man sulks before walking away, being last to catch on the Princess making a mockery of him.

"Bona iksin unseemly, dārilaros."

(That was unseemly, princess.)

Rhaenyra glances at you with a sly smirk before rolling her eyes.

"Issa unseemly syt zirȳla naejot jiōragon nyke zȳhon ondos."

(It is unseemly for him to offer me his hand.)

Boremund glares at the two of you. You throw him an innocent smile, very well knowing he has no notion of what is being said between you.

"Next!" He exclaims.

You were itching for these proceedings to conclude.

A young boy, he must have been no older than 10 and 2. You recognised his sigil, house Blackwood.

You fail to suppress your amusement paired with disbelief, an involuntarily laugh escapes your lips.

Rhaenyra mirrors your baffled expression.

"And now a boy." The Princess says with an exasperated tone.

"The Blackwoods are an ancient house with a formidable army. In the riverlands they once ruled as Kings." Lord Boremund states.

Rhaenyra nods, she decides to give the poor boy a chance.

He goes on and recites a rather well rehearsed speech. Voice trembling but otherwise full of conviction.

A rictus, albeit kind smile painted on Rhaenyra's face.

She is not convinced.

"If chosen as your match Princess, your days shall be easy and night's safe under my protection."

The boy says and you purse your lips, trying not to laugh aloud once again.

"Protection? The Princess has a dragon you dumb cunt."

One of Rhaenyra's many suitors exclaims from the crowd and the boy unsheathes his sword, summoning a challenge.

You roll your eyes. Whether it be a man grown or a little boy, they are all the same.

"We're leaving." Rhaenyra stands, swiftly grabbing your hand. Taking your leave by her side and matching her strut.

"Ser Criston, send word to the harbor and have Captain Oswin ready the ship for you."

"Lady y/n and I will leave on Dragonback. We will see you back at King's Landing."

Criston glances at you in confusion and you only give him a shrug.

"Princess, we're due in Bitterbridge in 3 days time."

Rhaenyra stops in her tracks, You, Criston and his men followed suit. The Princess glares at the Knight and he opposes for a moment before relenting.

"Very well, Princess."

--

Rhaenyra grabs your arm again forcing you to pick up the pace. You eventually find yourselves alone in a dimly lit hallway far from the commotion in the other room.

"Nyra–" You yelp, as she expertly pushes you up against a wall her hand resting against it.

She leans in capturing your lips into a searing kiss. You melt at the feeling of her mouth against yours, simply aching for her.

Rhaenyra's hands find your waist as she disconnects your lips. You nearly shiver under her intense stare. She watches your chest heave as you attempted to catch your breath. You notice her breathing just as heavily.

"I have been dying to do that all morning."

She kisses you again, this time your hand finds the back of her neck pulling her impossibly closer.

"Istin emagon ao sir."

(I must have you now)

Rhaenyra shifts her attention to your neck, placing wet kisses against it. You don't suppress the shiver this time and immediately feel her grin form against your neck.

"Ēdā nyke mōrī bantis."

(You had me last night.)

You tease, hand moving to rest on her shoulder.

"One night is not enough" She whispers before taking your bottom lip in between her teeth tugging at it. She kisses you again.

"With you it is never enough."

Your mouth opens wider and her tongue comes into contact with yours. A moan spills out of you directly into her mouth and Rhaenyra hums against your lips.

A rush of arousal shoots directly to your core. Rhaenyra would have her way with you infront of the entire court if she could.

Gods, you wish she would.

Rhaenyra lifts up your thigh and runs her hand under your dress resting it on your ass. You wrap your leg around her waist reflexively giving her easier access. A glimmer in her eyes as she takes the opportunity to slip her hand underneath your smallclothes, she could feel how wet you were as she swipes a finger through your folds.

"Rhaenyra, what if someone sees us?" You whimper as you fight the urge to grind your wanting core against her hand.

She leans forward, placing another kiss on your neck before sinking her teeth into it earning a desperate moan from you.

"I really don't care." She whispers and you feel your legs grow weaker.

Rhaenyra presses her palm against your center and you feel yourself move against her hand wantonly. She dips a finger into your entrance and you let out another moan.

"Ah– Rhaenyra, wait please."

You wanted to kick yourself for stopping her but you couldn't risk getting caught, not here.

Rhaenyra sighs before removing her hand from underneath your dress completely and you stand up on both feet. Your hands don't leave her shoulders however, needing the support.

"Issa daor litse."

(It is not fair)

You breathe out, after a moment's silence.

"Hm?"

"Lo nyke sia vala nyke could gūrogon ao naejot Zaldrīzesdōron se mazverdagon ao ñuha ābrazȳrys."

(If I were a man I could take you to Dragonstone and make you my wife.)

"Nobody would question it."

You suddenly feel tears well up in your eyes. Rhaenyra notices and places a tender kiss on your forehead. You quickly wrap your arms around her.

The both of you stay like that for a beat.

"Then take me to Dragonstone." Rhaenyra simply states.

You scoff.

"Do not mock me, Princess."

Rhaenyra lets out a chuckle before stepping away from you, intertwining your fingers.

"No, it isn't fair."

She lifts your intertwined hands to her lips and plants a kiss on the back of your palm.

She guides you down the hallway and the two of you resume your walk.

"Ivestragī's jikagon lenton."

(Let's go home)

[starcrossed-lov3rz]

The Vow Spoken Through Time - Part 7

Daemon x Rhaenyra x Wife!Reader

Series: Series Masterlist

Warnings: MDNI, FILTH, SMUT, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving), praise, degradation, slight d/s vibes, spanking, thigh riding, bondage, ropes, Slight!Brat!Reader, Dom!Rhaenyra, Dom!Daemon, Daemon has a rope collection bc I said so

Tags: marriage, poly relationship, Daemon being hopelessly in love with his wives, Queen!Rhaenyra

Words: 2.1K

Description: Y/N is having a rough morning. She's fired. She's hungover. She's in a stranger's bed. She's waking up in a new world? She's married?!

Rhaenyra and Daemon's day started normal. Waking up next to their darling wife before tending to their duties. The difference? Their wife is speaking in riddles and has no memories of them.

Check out more works in my Masterlist!

“If you didn’t make such lovely noises, I would gag you for that comment, issa jorrāelagon?” Daemon hums humorlessly. [my love]

“Daemon please,” you beg, pulling uselessly against the soft hemp ropes. Daemon had waited for you to finish your bath before ordering you to kneel on bed. He tied a silk blindfold around your head, cutting off your sight before tying you up. You could barely pick out his deft steps as he flitted around the room to find the softer rope in his collection. The ropes wound around your torso, and although you couldn’t see them, you could feel the grounding pressure from each intricate knot. Your arms were only bound at the wrist, giving Daemon the freedom to move you around and tie them where he wished. Right now, he had the rope rigged to the ceiling above the bed, forcing you higher on your knees with your arms stretched above your head.

“Be patient,” he orders with a swat to your thigh. 

You moan at the sting, head dropping back. “Daemon, please just touch me-”

“And why would I do that?” Daemon teases. “I said you were to wait patiently for Rhaenyra. This performance does not seem patient to me.”

“But, it’s not fai-”

“How about I give you something to keep that needy cunt busy?” 

You hear him move on the bed and feel the bed dip as he sits in front of you, sliding a thigh between yours. A groan of frustration escapes you as you realize that the ropes holding your arms up are keeping you from seating yourself fully on his thigh. “Daemon, baby, love, zaldrīzes, prince, please-” [dragon]

Daemon has mercy on you, loosening the rope holding your arms up. He leans in, nipping at your ear. “Go on, give me a show. Rub that needy cunt on my thigh.” The words barely leave his mouth before you grind down onto the hard, corded muscle of his thigh. You moan at the friction against your clit, and start a steady rhythm. Daemon’s hands rest at your hips, guiding them as he occasionally flexes his thigh up to add to the friction. 

“Gods, you’re making such a mess,” he purrs. “You just cannot help but cause trouble at every turn.” You whine, a blush lighting up your cheeks. The slide against Daemon’s bare thigh is smooth from the slick coating him. “I should make you clean the filthy mess you made.” He slides a hand down from your hip to swipe some of your slick. 

Daemon slides his coated fingers into your mouth. “Suck.” You slide your tongue across his fingers, eagerly following his direction. “That’s my filthy girl,” Daemon praises. 

You nibble at the tips of his fingers, and he pulls them out slowly. Daemon replaces his fingers with his thumb, holding your mouth open. Your hips still and brow furrows in confusion until Daemon spits in your mouth. “Don’t swallow yet,” he murmurs, rubbing at your tongue with the pad of his thumb. “Did I say to stop?” Daemon growls. “Keep those hips moving until I tell you to stop.”

“Yes my prince,” you garble out through his thumb. 

“You’re so beautiful like this issa jorrāelagon. Tied up and chasing whatever I give you like a desperate bitch in heat.” Daemon’s thumb pulls your jaw down again to spit into your mouth once more. “I’m giving you what you begged for. Use your words, what do you say?” [my love]

“Thank you.” You attempt to form the words, but you can feel a mixture of drool and Daemon’s spit dripping down your chin. 

Daemon moves to swipe it up with his thumb, popping it back into your mouth. “Swallow.” He leans down to kiss you after you swallow. You’re panting into his mouth, hips speeding up. “Are you close?” he asks.

You nod.

“Good,” Daemon purrs. “Stop.”

“Bu-” your hips stutter, but don’t stop. 

Daemon’s hands grip your hips, halting your movements before laying a spank on your ass. “I said stop.”

“She does have the hardest time listening, but she’s so beautiful when she writhes like that and begs for release.”

“Nyra,” you gasp as you hear your wife from across the room. How long had she been there? “Nyra please, Daemon is being unfair.”

“Oh, really?” Rhaenyra hums. “From where I’m standing, it looks like you’re quite enjoying yourself.”

“But Daemon didn’t let me cu-”

“What did she do to deserve this?” Nyra asks, and you can hear the conspiratorial tone of her voice.

“Nothing!”

“Keeping secrets.” You and Daemon answer at the same time.

“I was not asking you,” Nyra says as she spanks your thigh. “But please share what secrets you have been hiding.”

You whine, refusing to answer. Rhaenyra takes the bait, gripping your hair and pulling your head back roughly. “Either tell me now, or I will have Daemon spank that pretty ass red until you wish you had told me.”

“Nyra-”

“That’s not my name right now.”

Your eyes roll back. “My queen, please.”

“Now, jorrāelagon,” Daemon purred. “That’s not true.” His thigh grinds up into your cunt. “Why don’t you tell Rhaenyra the truth. Exactly like we practice.”

“Shi-shijetra issa, issa dāria.” Your voice shakes and you pull at the ropes circling your wrists in an effort to concentrate. [Forgive me, my queen.] 

“Say it,” Daemon says, hands sliding up your chest to pinch and tug at your nipples.

“Ny-nyke should emagon ivestretan ao.” You stutter out. [I should have told you.] 

“You’re forgetting something.”

“Don’t make me say it,” you whine. “It’s embarrassing.” 

Daemon answers you with a sharper pinch at your nipple, and your choke out a moan.

“Nyke aōhon, issa dāria.” [I’m yours, my queen.]

“And? What else, my desperate little rene?” [slut]

“Kostilus gaomagon issa. Nyke jorrāelagon ao naejot fuck issa needy orvorta.” [Please use me. I need you to fuck my needy cunt.]

Rhaenyra is silent, her grip on your hair drops and you feel her untie the blindfold. It drops from your face, and you find yourself staring up at her. “Fuck,” she breathes out, cupping your face. “Issa jorrāelagon, skoros emagon nyke gaomagon naejot gūrogon ao?” [My love, what have I done to deserve you?] She kisses you deeply, pulling back to plant kisses across your cheeks, placing a final one on your nose. 

“But Daemon is right,” Nyra says with a wink. “I think you’ve earned a punishment for keeping this from us.” She stand up straight, turning to address Daemon. “I think our naughty little love should start by cleaning up her mess, don’t you?”

Daemon grins wickedly, reaching up to untie your hands with a quick motion. Nyra catches your wrists, tying them behind your back with the silk blindfold. She pulls you back a bit as Daemon shifts away. With one hand at your bound wrists and the other knotted in your hair, Rhaenyra pushes you down until you’re level with Daemon’s thigh.

“Lick it up,” Daemon growls. “Clean your mess off my thigh and I might reconsider your punishment.” 

You lap at the slick coating Daemon’s thigh, letting Nyra’s grip guide your motions. She pulls you back as you try to kiss up Daemon’s inner thigh to his cock. “Are you really so desperate for cock that you cannot finish a simple task?” Nyra tugs at your hair.

“My queen-” you whine. 

“Finish.”

Whining, you redouble your efforts licking your slick from Daemon as they both whisper filthy praise. “You can stop now, jorrāelagon.” [love]

Rhaenyra pulls you back up to your knees, “you did such a good job for us. But you can take more, can’t you? How many strikes do you think you deserve?”

“Ten?” 

Daemon snorts a laugh, flipping you on all fours, facing away from him. “Twenty it is.” 

“Bu-”

“Hush,” Rhaenyra chides. “You’re going to take twenty strikes and count them out for us. If you miss one or forget to thank Daemon for each hit, we will restart the count.”

You let out a yelp as Daemon lands the first spank on your right ass cheek. He rubs at the stinging skin. The tinge of pain has your core dripping, and you arch back into his palm, “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already?” He teases.

“One, thank you Daemon.”

“That’s not the proper way to address the prince consort. I know that you know better.” Nyra purrs. 

“I’m sorry,” you squeak out. “Thank you my prince.”

“I’ll forgive you this time,” Daemon responds with another swat. This strike lands on the opposite cheek, but it is harder than the first. You squirm away from the hit, but Daemon reaches a hand to grab your bound wrists and push your chest down to the bed. The sheets feel rough as they rub against your sensitive nipples. 

“Two, thank you my prince.”

“What a good girl,” Daemon purrs, moving his hand to rub at your cunt. “You’re a dripping mess. This is supposed to be a punishment.” His hand pulls back to deliver three hard swats on the same cheek.

You jump, but Daemon’s other hand has you locked in place. Your breathing is heaving, and you pant as you try to regain your composure.

“What number, jorrāelagon?” Rhaenyra asks. “I don’t hear you thanking your prince.”

“Five, thank you my prince.” 

A gasp falls from your lips as Daemon again moves to rub your slick folds, this time sliding two fingers into you. “I might just leave you like this after we finish. Helpless, needy, wet, and begging for someone to fuck this desperate cunt.”

Your hips move back of their own according, trying to fuck back onto his fingers. Daemon pulls them out quickly, spanking your ass and thigh with two swift smacks.

“Ah!” you yelp. “Six-Seven! Seven, thank you my prince.” 

“Our desperate slut cannot seem to sit still and take her punishment,” Daemon teases. “Why don’t you give her something to focus on?” His fingers slide back into your cunt, fucking into and rubbing at your walls. You moan, not noticing Rhaenyra slide the dress from her shoulders before she sits, thighs spread in front of you. Daemon pulls you up by your arms, and your shoulders ache slightly. “Put that mouth to use,” Daemon orders. “You’re going to be a good girl, and make your queen cum.”

“I need my hands, my prince” you whine. 

“You have a tongue. Use it.” Daemon growls.

You begin lapping at Rhaenyra’s cunt in earnest, her gasps and moans encouraging you. Daemon lands another three hard slaps on your ass, all on the same cheek. You gasp into Rhaenyra’s cunt, your noises muffled. Daemon’s grip on your hands pulls you back up long enough for you to choke out the count and thank him.

“Fuck, that’s it jorrāelagon,” Rhaneyra moans as you suckle at her clit. You flick your tongue across the bud before sucking it again with earnest. You lick and suck your way down, fucking into her with your tongue, nose bumping at her clit with each thrust. [love]

You’re so focused on trying to make Rhaenyra come that you don’t notice the next few spanks. A hand pulls you away from her, and you whine at the loss of contact. “My poor little slut,” Daemon purrs. “Trying her best, but just can’t manage to do one simple task.”

“Looks like we are going to need to restart the count,” Nyra sighs. “And she was so close to being done.��

“Wait, that’s not fair,” you protest.

“Really, what number are we on?” Daemon asks.

You try to remember how many spanks Daemon had landed, but you truly hadn’t been paying attention. “Fourteen?”

Daemon laughs cruelly, spanking your sore ass. “Now we are at one. What do you say?”

“One, thank you my prince.”

NOTE: One thing about Daemon and Rhaenyra? They’re always gonna find a reason. One thing about Y/N, she shamelessly loves being manhandled. Is it really bratting if Y/N almost immediately gives in? Probably not, but in her defense they’re both kinda intimidating. Anyway, another chapter will be up later this week. Also, there are some ppl who I can’t tag, so if you’re listed and the tag list and not receiving notifications, please check that your settings are on “allow this blog to appear in search results” or message me if I messed up the spelling! ~ Lacie <3

Taglist: @syraxnyra , @avalyaaa , @angeliccss , @clocksonthewall79 , @sia2raw , @forma-lina , @lorarri , @imoonkiss , @ba6ysworld , @abaker74 , @aniisbavk1, @different-tale-student , @cruelladevil4,  @ronswhoree, @Lbl252003, @18dmlk, @beca2468 , @hnm-mika , @brocomegetyobitch, @pendejalian , @xoxoluvs-world, @lexasaurs634 , @jaydemon99 , @lovelyy-moonlight , @lavender2ari, @katiemars, @waitaminuteashh , @Judgementdayfan1, @shadyloveobject, @winterrnight , @malfoycassimalfoy , @Gracielacie, @serenitytomothings,

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[ash-whimsicalfanfic]

You Betrayed Me

Tom Riddle II X Fem OC/Reader

Word Count: 1832

Warnings: Mild Language, Violence, Death, Angst, Sad, Heartbreaking/Happy ending, Baby, etc.

Prompt: After graduating from Hogwarts, Tom begins to go down a dark and angry path. His love for you is questionable, however your main focus is your shared son, Mattheo...

“How is our future dark lord?” Tom asks, stepping into Mattheo’s nursery.

Things have been rocky between the two of us since we graduated from Hogwarts. He was unhappy with his current job and now was on an angry, dark path. I was fine with letting him do his own thing, however I draw the line when it comes to my son.

“Stop calling him that, Tom. He is a baby and even when he is older, he won’t be apart of this.” I say seriously as I continue to rock Mattheo.

“He is my heir, Y/N. He will be a dark lord.” He says seriously.

“What has happened to you? You use to be the man I loved, but now your just a shell of the man I once knew.” I say in disbelief.

“I’m the same man you married.Your just being overdramatic.” He says, rolling his eyes.

“Just go.” I snap.

“Do not talk to me that way.” He yells, pulling his wand out and pointing at me.

Mattheo instantly starts to wail, however I couldn’t take my eyes away from Tom. His eyes that once shone with love and adoration for me, now held hate and a coldness to them. 

“You would actually kill me.” I say, still in shock.

“I am the dark lord! I will not tolerate your disrespect! You are with me or you are against me!” He shouts.

I look down at the son we share who was screaming louder. I gently shush him, rocking him slightly. This boy needed me. Tom wouldn’t give him the love and care he needed in this world. Tom would do what was necessary to keep him alive while forcing him to do whatever he pleases. 

“I will stand by you, but I do not want to be your wife no more.” I say, turning to place Mattheo in his crib.

He was calm now, looking around curiously. He didn’t look as happy as he did before Tom came into the room. I frown, gently caressing his cheek before I lift him enough to place a kiss on his head.

“Look at me.” Tom seethes.

“I love you, Mattheo. So much. Mommy is always going to be here for you, sweet boy. Get some sleep.” I murmur, gently caressing his cheek before I turn to Tom.

“You have betrayed me. Even my own wife can’t stand by me.” He says, tears welling in his eyes as he grips his wand tighter.

My own eyes water as I know what is going to happen before it happens. I didn’t even have a way to defend myself. My wand was put away in my room. 

“Tom, you don’t have to do this. Mattheo needs his mother. Please.” I plead.

“Avada Kedavra!” He shouts.

It all happened so fast, the green light filling the room. I stood and looked down at the floor where my body lied before looking at Tom. He was staring down at my body before collapsing to the floor as he sobs. He crawls towards my body, cupping my cheek.

“Wake up…wake up, Y/N! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I lost my temper! I’m sorry!” He cries. 

Mattheo starts to wail and I look over to see him standing in his crib, grasping the bars as he stared at me…not my body, me.

“Oh sweet boy. It’s okay. Mommy will always be here, watching and protecting you. Don’t you ever forget that mommy loves you.” I murmur as I step forward and stroke his cheek.

He quiets, looking up at me as he giggles and reaches up.

“Mattheo, what are you doing?” Tom mutters, standing at the end of the crib.

“Mama!” Mattheo cries again as he reaches up.

Tom looks at where I’m standing now, looking confused and lost before looking at Mattheo who was still looking up at me. I push a curl out of his eyes, smiling softly at him.

“Y/N…” Tom mumbles. 

“Mattheo! Choose a side! Just know your mother died choosing the wrong side!” Tom shouts. 

I frown, watching Mattheo. Choose his side. Choose it. 

“Mattheo! Please!” Narcissa pleads.

I smile sadly, she has protected him and raised him. I knew I could always rely on her.

“Issa…” Mattheo pleads.

“Your mother would want you to live.” She says.

“Choose a side son!” He shouts.

“I choose mom’s side!” He shouts back.

My eyes widen before I lunge forward in front of him as the spell casts. Everyone around us gasps including Tom and I knew they could see me. I looked at my hand to see it was translucent. It was like how ghosts in the stories were described.

“Mom.” Mattheo whispers. 

I turned around and saw that he was looking at me in surprise.

“My sweet boy.” I whisper, reaching out to caress his cheek.

He leans into my touch, a tear falling down his cheek. I smile softly at him.

“I miss you so much.” He says.

“I’m always with you, sweet boy. And I will always love you and care for you. I can’t tell you how proud I am of you.” I murmur. 

“Y/N?” Tom finally says.

I turn and face him, the smile falling from my face.

“You have lost your mind, Tom. I hoped and prayed that you would stop this reckless path of yours, especially after seeing the way you fell apart after you killed me. But, you’ve lost it. He is our son. I told you that I never wanted him a part of this dark and angry path you’ve paved for yourself. I wanted him to make his own choices. Even if he decided he wanted to follow in your footsteps, I never would let him.” I say.

“Mattheo, you will die just as an agonizing death as your mother.” He snaps and I see that Mattheo was trying to get closer to Narcissa that was sneaking off.

I nod at her and dive in front of Mattheo, taking her wand and pointing it at him. Narcissa’s hushed hurries to both Mattheo and her son, Draco were all I could hear. 

“Y/N, move.” He warns.

“Never.” I say.

“You chose the wrong side once, don’t tell me you're doing it again.” He says.

“I’m willing to sacrifice my life, even as a spirit.” I say, my eyes watering.

If I didn’t play my cards out right, Tom would remember some of the old legends about the spirit of a wizard. As a pureblood, magic ran through me indefinitely…even dead. It is what allows me to show myself briefly, however the killing curse triggered something to make me be able to show myself like I was now. This wasn’t brief…it wasn’t temporary…this was permanent. 

Tom seemed to be calculating what to do. He was trying to figure out how to get rid of me once and for all. I couldn’t let him do that. Mattheo has me and he is going to need me. He needs to be protected from Tom. Tom still held a place in my heart even after everything. I find myself reminiscing the love we use to both share, before it was just me.

“How are you doing this?” He asks.

“A mothers love is something no one can explain. I knew once I found out I was pregnant with Mattheo, that I’d die for him. He became my world in a heartbeat and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” I say. 

“Mom!” Mattheo shouts.

I glance over to see him throwing something my way. My wand. I throw Narcissa’s back and catch mine, quickly mouthing “I love you” to Mattheo. I turn back to Tom, gripping my wand tighter.

“Expelliarmus!” We shout.

A green stream of magic shoots out of his wand as a blinding white shoots out of mine. I step forward, gripping my wand tighter as my magic starts to overpower his. 

“You are not more powerful than me, do you not forget how you died.” He seethes.

“Don’t forget you played an unfair game. My wand was in the other room. Otherwise, I’m sure you’d be the one dead.” I seethe back, my eyes watching a young boy destroy the last horcrux: Nagini.

His magic begins to overpower mine and I focus on what I’m doing this for. Mattheo’s life. I focus on the anger I had for Tom taking away my ability to raise Mattheo. I focus on the anger of Tom killing me in front of Mattheo. I focus on my pain of loving and hating Tom Riddle. 

My magic overpowers him, sending his wand flying out of his hand. I catch his wand, glaring at Tom who looks at his hand that starts to turn to ash.

“It’s over Tom.” I say.

“I’ll be back.” He says.

I step forward until I stand in front of him and I grab his face as I look down at him with a blank look.

“No, you won’t. The dark magic you’ve used and using horcruxes for yourself, has ruined your chance of ever being a spirit. You're going straight to hell, Tom.” I whisper.

“And you say you loved me.” He says.

“I don’t love this version of you. I love the Tom Riddle I was with when we attended Hogwarts. That is the Tom Riddle I am in love with.” I say, stepping back. 

I watch as the rest of him turns to ash, looking down at the wand I held. My eyebrows furrow, noticing this wasn’t his wand. This was the Elder Wand. I turn and walk towards Professor McGonagall.

“I believe this goes to you.” I say.

“You always were…have been an incredible woman, Y/N. Go be with Mattheo…and then come back and let's talk about you staying here at Hogwarts.” She says.

I smile, before stepping away and turning to see that Mattheo was already watching me. He breaks into a sprint and I smile, opening my arms up and wrapping him in a tight hug. We sway back and forth, the both of us hugging each other like it was going to be our last time.

“I didn’t realize you were this tall. It’s different when I’m standing here with you and not off to the side.” I whisper.

“Please tell me you aren’t leaving me.” He pleads quietly.

“I’ll probably be joining Moaning Myrtle and the others here at Hogwarts. At least until I move on…but I’m not going to be moving on for a long while.” I say.

“Are you unhappy you can’t move on?” He asks quietly.

“No, no of course not, sweet boy. I’m here with you and that is all I could ever want. The day I move on is the day that you join me on this side…the spirit side. However, I hope that won’t be for a really long time. I hope to see you do many great things, Mattheo.” I say, smiling softly at him.

[thegreengnome]

Request:

Daemon gets mad at his wife after she caused herself an injury.

Fandom – House of the Dragon

Word Count - 411

Pairing – Daemon Targaryen X Reader

Warnings – N/A

Y/N knew it was coming, in fact she prepared herself for it, but still the sound of the chamber door slamming open managed to startle her.

“What were you thinking?” the man lurking in the open doorway stood with a tense posture although some would argue that it was his normal stance in life. The servants helping their lady undress yelp at the intruding man.

“You may go” now dismissed Y/N’s two maids swiftly left the couple behind but not before bowing to the royal pair.

“Well? Speak women. Now!” moving towards his lady wife, Daemon grips her chin turning her face upwards closer to his own. Her eyes still not meeting his own he grips harder. His fingers leaving white marks behind in its wake.

“Y/N” softening his hold slightly once he notes the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.

Whimpering Y/N shakes herself free from the hold “I’m sorry” closing her eyes, the tears now rolling down onto her cheeks. Y/N’s lips caught between her teeth as she desperately tries to stop her hiccupping cries.

“Issa jorrāelagon, what possessed you?” kneeling beside his wife he takes a hold of her shaky hands, bringing them up to his lips. The kiss was chaste but full of both love and worry.

“What happened?”

Taking a deep breath again avoiding eye contact the lady began her tale.

“I just wanted to impress you” A watery laugh escapes her. Once again shaking her head at her own stupidity.

“Impress me, by taunting ser crispy so much he drew steel?”

“You have always said that protecting family is the most important thing. You are my family, which means Rhaenyra is my family. I sought to defend her honour” gaining courage through her story Y/N pokes her finger at Daemon as if to put all the blame on him.

Taking a hold of said offensive finger Daemon chuckles “You impress me by just being you love. Protecting our family is something I have always admired in you”

Meeting his eyes Y/N lets out a watery smile “Truly?” Y/N was not typically an insecure woman, she knew her worth but when pit against the might house Targaryen it was easy to feel smaller than she was.

“Truly. You impress me everyday” wiping the tears from her cheeks Daemon places a kiss on her forehead.

“But do not ever put yourself at risk like that again. Or we will be having a very different conversation”       

[chrysanthemum-poet]

One day when I'm dead and gone,

I hope archeologists dig up my grave.

And find a peice of paper,

Tangled up in my bones.

The very one you wrote to me.

I hope they write volumes,

About our love and my madness.

-Chrysanthemum_poet

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[agendabymooner]

the little schuminis || ms47 fic

dad!mick schumacher x mom!ofc

EXTENSION TO SHE’S EVERYTHING… AND HE’S JUST MICK! (SMAU) + MICK, MULTIPLIED (SNAPSHOT)

Summary: Barbie Schumacher was the best mother there is to Mick’s little carbon copies. OR four times when Mick showed his devotion for his kids, and the one time his devotion paid off.

Content warning: Made this in about an hour— did not proofread this but I love it bc F1 driver with kids, All around fluff, Mick issa good dad, Michael Schumacher and Sebastian Vettel being wingmen to their kids (Barbie and Mick), Michael’s clowning his own son, many Schumacher kids

Note: @avaleineandafryingpan I know this isn’t much but I hope you love this request babygorl 😭😭🫶 my heart beats for you fr. Enjoy some dad!Mick content xx

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

i. the time with minna schumacher’s late night wake up call

Shrill cries of a newborn love was equal to the agony that Barbie Schumacher — formerly Blanco Vettel — felt as she groaned quietly. 3 AM never felt this awful until her firstborn child reached her teething stage, and all Barbie wanted to do was cry like her daughter was doing in her nursery now. 

Perhaps it wasn’t ideal to have a baby at the age of 27. Many people told her that her spouse wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment— that he was still on the peak of his career as a formula one driver. 

And Mick was in the midst of a season when Minna Elisa Schumacher was born. Being away from her for far TOO long was something he didn’t want, but he was forced to leave as soon as Minna reached her 47th hour of her life. Mick never hated something this much until his career made him choose. 

Barbie grumbled as she reached for her nightgown and slipped it on, only for a large hand to pull her back to the mattress as the German man murmured, “I’ll get her, liebling.” 

“Mick…” Barbie hadn’t really wanted to make him get up, seeing as he just arrived four hours ago after his triple header.

“‘s okay, I’ll get Minna,” he muttered, reaching out to kiss his wife’s forehead. “Just go get settled down and you can feed her here.” 

The blond man had immediately found Minna crying in her crib as he cradled her, heading downstairs to grab some iced teether to help soothe her gums. “Shh,” he shushed her gently, the baby’s cry subsiding immediately as she sucked on the teether. “You hungry, liebe? Or ‘s it just your gums?” 

“We have to stop waking your mom up at such an early time, Minnie baby,” he sighed, rocking her in his arms as they made their way back up to the bedroom. “She’s been awake all the time— she works too hard for us.” 

“She’s amazing, no?” Mick asked his daughter as if she could understand every single word he was saying. 

“Ma…” Minna mumbled regardless, clinging to his arms as Mick grinned tiredly. 

“Yeah, I know,” Mick nodded. “She’s working too hard, Minna. I’m glad she’s here to see you grow like this, liebe.” 

“Talking to Minna again, Schums?” A soft voice reached his ears as Mick looked back at his wife, who had her back against the headboard as she smiled tiredly and extended her arms. 

“Of course, Barbie,” Mick chuckled. “She’s got to learn her words, one of these days.”

“No need to lecture her though,” Barbie told him. But it wasn’t anything that she didn’t appreciate; she always liked it when Mick talked to their child like Minna understood everything. He had been doing this since Barbie fell pregnant with the girl— he’d often crouch down or lay next to her bulging stomach to speak to the growing baby inside of her. 

It showed Barbie that Mick was a committed father. It showed that regardless of his situation as a busy driver, he always saw his family as his number one priority. Perhaps that was why Barbie loved Mick so much. 

ii. the time with gisela schumacher’s first ballet show

Gisela Belle Schumacher’s first little ballerina performance was happening in the program facility and everyone made sure to show up. 

By everyone, I mean Barbie’s family, the Vettels, and Gisela’s (or Gigi) aunt Gina, Pippa Michael and Nina Corinna. The two year old was excited to show everyone what she practiced with Madame Pinault throughout her three months of being at the class. 

She was the tiniest girl out of the group, with her bright blue eyes and blonde hair making her stand out in comparison to her peers’ darker tones of hair. The Schumachers and Vettels knew which one to look out for while they waited at the auditorium.

Barbie peered down at her phone and sighed quietly. Mick wasn’t here yet. Stupid flight of his.

At Gigi’s age, she couldn’t easily grasp the concept of people not being able to make it to certain events at the right time. All she knew was that she was going to show her Dada how she could balance on her tiptoes without a problem. 

And of course, Mick couldn’t find himself to break her heart like that. And so, after the Brazilian GP, he took the fastest flight back to Lausanne. 

And there he was, rushing inside the auditorium with the biggest bouquet for the littlest girl. 

Minna’s announcement led the families to look at him as Mick kissed Barbie’s lips and Minna’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Mick apologized, “the baggage claim took longer than expected.”

“She hasn’t gone out yet,” Barbie laughed quietly, mindlessly caressing Minna’s blonde hair as she continued to speak, “glad to see you back from the race in one piece, though. With the biggest flowers too.”

Later after the performance, Gigi ran around the Schumacher home with the bouquet bragging about the flowers her Dada had given her. Barbie laughed at the sight of the girl— she was too adorable.

Mick laughed along, as he knew that he’d be more than happy to come carrying the biggest flowers for his girl— even after the longest double header he’s had. After all, nothing can stop him from being the best father to his children.

iii. the time with mika schumacher’s birthday party

“Who decided that setting up a pet display should be this fuc—“

“Mick, watch your words.”

“Sorry, Dad.” 

“Stop going crazy,” Michael said with a frown, throwing the small giraffe plushie at the direction of his son, to which Mick reacted with an ‘Ow!’ after being hit in the face. “This isn’t the first birthday party you’ve handled.” 

“Well this is the first one where ‘pet adoptions’ are a thing,” Mick gestured at the safari animal plushies at hand. “I don’t know what came up to Gina thinking it’s easy to find bulk plushies, but this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done— and I have three kids, Dad!”

“Because you can’t control yourself,” Michael mumbled, making Mick glare at him. Michael shrugged, “Am I incorrect?” 

Mick couldn’t even find himself to argue with his dad. Six years into the marriage, and he and Barbie already had three kids under seven. 

“I’m just so used to the girls wanting princesses and all of that,” Mick pouted lightly. 

Michael sighed, “Well, now you have Mika— think of him as you. What did you like when you’re a kid? Put yourself in his shoes. Don’t tell me you’re having an existential crisis three kids into marriage? I’m actually gonna be disappointed if you didn’t think that before you had the kids— you’ve been a driver for years!” 

“How can you find a time to joke about it,” Mick sighed exasperatedly. “I don’t even know why I’m here being an ass about my kid’s birthday party.” 

“Because,” Michael told him with a purse of his lips, “you’ve never had a son before— that’s why you’re stressing out about messing up.” 

“I struggled with you for a good while,” Michael shrugged nonchalantly, “Gina was into princesses and pink ponies. You were a boy— I didn’t know what baby boys liked. But I was a racer, that’s why I didn’t have any questions— I still hesitated though because you might like something else and I have to be aware of it.” 

“From what I can tell, you’re doing an alright job so far,” Michael smiled at Mick, patting him on the shoulder. “Miki’s been a happy child. That’s what matters, no?”

“So pick up your sad face and put those plushies up,” Michael said.

A delighted scream came from inside the house as the year old boy escaped from Kimi Vettel’s chasing, giggling as Mika Sebastian Schumacher ran as much as his little legs could handle. 

Eventually he found himself in the arms of Mick as Mika hid from his Uncle Kimi. 

“Da!” Mika screamed delightfully, kicking his legs when Kimi Vettel began tickling the boy. 

Mick and Michael exchanged grins.

Yeah, Mick would continue to put these plushies up if it meant that he’s making his son happy. 

iv. the time with michael ‘mikey’ schumacher’s introduction to the world

Michael Senna, or Mikey, Schumacher was born sixteen hours ago, his tiny body was proof that he was so much like his mother. Yet despite the smallness of his, his facial features and expressions of contentment showed that he was his father’s son. 

Another Mick Schumacher had been born into the world, and Barbie and Mick (alongside their family in Switzerland) welcomed him with open arms. 

And no one was more than excited than the newborn’s namesake, his Pippa Michael, and Sebastian Vettel when meeting the little boy. In fact, they raced through the hospital as soon as they heard that Barbie, Sebastian’s adoptive daughter, had given birth to Mick’s second son. 

Michael was more than happy to meet the boy— just as he was excited to meet his other grandchildren— but to meet little Mikey Schumacher was a moment to remember for everyone. Because that was also the time when Mick announced that…

“I’m retiring,” both Seb and Michael looked at the man with surprised expressions as if they wondered if they heard him right.

Mick explained, “I feel like I’ve lost a lot of time with the kids because I’ve been racing. The kids obviously don’t know how much time I’ve lost because they’re young but… I do. Barbie does.

“It took me a good while to understand what Mika loved— it took me a while to learn how to keep Gigi from having flyaways in her hair during her ballet classes— or how Minnie managed to handle her equestrian routine without Gina or Mom.

“I’ve lost a lot of time,” he said with a small chuckle and a shake of his head. Mick then gestured at Mikey, who remained peacefully sleeping in Michael’s arms as he said, “And with Mikey, I think I can’t afford to do that anymore. I’m okay with one championship only.”

Sebastian broke the silence after, “I’m proud of you Mick,” he smiled softly before reaching out to hug his in-law. “Look at how far Barbie and you’ve come.”

“Back then we had to goad him to ask Barbie on a date,” Michael chuckled quietly.

“It took us eight years,” Sebastian joked.

“Or nine,” Michael snorted.

“We’re still here,” Barbie mumbled in her sleep, “stop making jokes about it.” 

“Still,” Michael said, “we’re very happy for you and Barbie, son.”

“This is where your life begins,” Sebastian nodded, “all you need to do is to tell everyone about your commitments and devotion for your children and wife.” 

i. the time mick’s devotion paid off

Being a retired driver felt great. It wasn’t everyday Mick got to say that— and now he had every chance to. 

Barbie’s family restaurant in Lausanne, one that she named SV et Blanco, had been built years ago— it was the Vettels and Schumachers’ pride. After she graduated from culinary school, Barbie worked as a chef in nearby restaurants before eventually deciding that she wanted a place where family could start their traditions through countless dishes and desserts to try. 

Needless to say, it became a local and even international favourite. Many tourists in Switzerland would try to stop by Lausanne just to get a taste of Kimi Vettel’s favourite spinach and egg soufflé.

And now, SV et Blanco became a place for the Schumachers to spend their time during the Friday afternoons after Minna and Gigi’s classes. Mick would always pick up his daughters with Mika and ten month old Mikey on their car seats.

And after that, he’d come dropping by the restaurant. With Mika on his pram and Mikey on his back carrier, he led the kids into the restaurant as they found their mother making her rounds around the place. 

“Mama!” Minna exclaimed before she and Gigi ran towards Barbie, hugging her around the legs. 

“Oh, excuse me,” Barbie smiled at the guests before she crouched down to hug her girls. “Gigi, Minnie— hello! How’s school!” 

“School is good, Mama!” Gigi grinned. “I got star for writing!”

“That right? Good job, Gigi,” Barbie grinned. “And you, Minnie? How is your school?”

“Okay! I want soufflé though!” The eldest Schumacher pouted lightly. “I wanna see Pippa and Nina!”

“Pippa and Nina! And Sebby— and Mamma Bel!” Mika shouted from his pram.

Barbie giggled lightly before looking up at her husband, “And…? How’s Dada, kids?”

“Dada’s not that busy,” Mick giggled, “hungry for some soufflé though— Minna’s right.”

“Well,” Barbie clapped her hands before standing up, “it’s a good thing it’s our everyday special.”

“Great,” Mick joked. “Otherwise we traveled to Lausanne for nothing.”

Barbie rolled her eyes playfully.

It was a good thing Mick’s devotion and commitment for his kids were paying off. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be the retired father that he is now— his kids wouldn’t be adoring their mother as much as Mick did back when they were teenagers and secretly in love. 

[cambion-companion]

Domestic Drabbles

Where their small daughter mistakes certain sounds for cries of distress.

Aemond x wife!reader

word count: 675

Silken spun silver curled around your fingers as you dug them into your husband’s hair, pulling him in for another deep kiss as he moved against you.  His weight pushed you further into the plush mattress, warmth enveloping your body as you sighed in pleasure.

The wooden bed frame creaked with each thrust, your whimpers of pleasure barely muffled as you bit into Aemond’s shoulder.

“Māzigon issa jorrāelagon.”  His voice was liquid velvet as he coaxed you to come undone around him.

You cried your release to the vaulted ceiling, feeling Aemond’s hot seed spilling within your heat as your muscles clenched and fluttered.  You pulled him deeper, his forehead coming to rest against yours as you breathed together, gently coming back to earth.

Aemond trailed his lips to the hollow of your throat, his hands caressing the curve of your breast as he tasted your flushed skin.

Amidst the post-coital bliss, wrapped together in a tangle of limbs, you heard the muffled crying of your young daughter.

Together you and Aemond sat up in bed, glancing at each other as he slid smoothly from the mattress, pulling on his clothing before striding with haste from your bedroom.

As you donned a satin robe, tying it securely about your waist, you heard Aemond’s soft voice several rooms away.

Minutes later he reentered the room, looking to you with a mixture of amusement and aggravation.

“Was it a nightmare?”  You asked, tilting your head in question of his prolonged silence.

Aemond shook his head slowly, a small smirk pulling his curved lips. “She is worried for you my dear.”

“Whatever for?”

“She says she heard you screaming and is scared for your well-being.”  You could see he was fighting to keep a stoic composure.

“Was I screaming?”  You ran a distracted hand through your tousled hair.

Aemond hesitated, glancing away from you, his mouth twitching. “I…uh, yes.”  His violet eye crinkled with mirth. “Perhaps you should go assure her you are unharmed.”

You nodded, brushing a kiss on his lips as you passed him into the darkened hallway.

“My darling, are you alright?”  You cooed, finding your silver-haired daughter curled upon her bed, still sniffling with widened eyes.

She reached her arms out to you, evident relief upon her cherub face. “I thought you were hurt!  Your door was closed and you wouldn’t answer me!”

You held you tight against your chest, rocking upon the small bed. “No, no.  I’m alright. I had a bad dream and your father was helping me.”

“O-oh.”  She hiccupped, still holding tight to your robe as you pulled back to look at her face.

“You don’t have to worry about me, my dove.”  You wiped the tears off her cheeks, helping her back under the covers and tucking her in. “When I’m with kepa, I am safe from harm.”

“He helps with your nightmares.”  She nodded, understanding.

You kissed her forehead tenderly. “Yes.  All better?”

“All better.”  Her eyelids were already beginning to close.

You waited for her breathing to deepen before exiting her room, closing the door softly behind you.

Aemond was waiting for you when you returned to your own chamber, he looked over at you with a quirked brow. “And?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “I thought she was asleep.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if half the castle were awake by now.” He caught your wrist as you tried to hit his shoulder, pulling you in for a kiss. “Not that I’m complaining.”  He nuzzled your nose laughing as you scrunched it and giggled.

“In a little over a decade she is going to realize the truth and be traumatized.”  

“She is going to know how deeply in love her parents are.”  Aemond captured your mouth once more, smiling against your lips as you sighed with pleasure. “Besides, we have plenty of time to work on your volume control.”  

You giggled madly as Aemond rolled you beneath him, undoing the ties of your robe and spreading it open.  His eye glinted in the dim firelight as he straddled you, looking upon your form. “Now, my love, where were we?”