#but when faced with baby alice he says: no. i will not become my father. i will be my mother instead

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Baby Blues || D. Targaryen x oc (Dear Motherhood Series)

GIF by @fireandbloodsource DIVIDERS by @straywords

summary: In which a 15 year old Leyla Hightower experiences postpartum depression and all of the Red Keep and Daemon himself, feel the wrath of it. (head-canon to second choice)

Dear Motherhood Series Masterlist

warning: oc is 15 when she gives birth

The babe’s cries was all the could be heard inside the birthing chamber. The handmaidens all gushed at the baby as they cleaned her up. Leyla laid there motionless. She had never experienced so much pain in all of her years.

Her head slowly turned to the door to which Daemon entered with a smile plastered on his face. He immediately moved to the bed where his Lady wife laid and kissed her forehead, “You did such a good job, ñuha ābrazȳrys” He whispered as Leyla only gave a tight lipped smile (my wife)

She watched as he moved away from her and to their daughter who they already found a name, Alyssa. All the noises around the room had become muffled to the young Hightower and she didn’t even realise that Daemon was talking to her.

“Leyla? I asked if you want to hold her” He cradled the little girl in his arms. She didn’t want to in all honesty. She felt so incredibly exhausted and her body still ached from delivering her child mere minutes ago.

“Okay” She whispered before Daemon laid the babe on her chest to which she groaned. “Why isn’t she properly cleaned” The young girl quipped , her head turned to the handmaidens who quickly apologised and scooped her up to clean her properly.

Watching the whole ordeal, Daemon held Leyla’s hand. “How are you feeling? I imagine the labour was not easy?” He attempted to comfort her but Leyla stared off into the distance, not replying to him.

The prince moved form the bed to a handmaiden, “Did anything happen during the labour?” He questioned as he stared at his Lady Wife. “No your Grace, everything went normal” She replied before curtsying and walking away.

~

Leyla walked alongside her Husband, a 2 month old Alyssa in her arms. The two walked into Godswood where there was a celebration held for her sister’s pregnancy.

Whispers could be heard around as they stared at the young Hightower. Daemon too felt the tense atmosphere as he rested his hand on the curve of Leyla’s back. Her face was cold and expressionless.

The past 2 months Leyla had been acting incredibly off. Everyone could notice it people around the Keep would constantly gossip and whisper about it. Maybe it was the fact that she was only 15, and yet she already has child to the Rogue Prince himself.

“If you wish to talk about me, at least talk to my face about it” Leyla’s cold words stunned the group of highborn ladies as they look down to the ground; Daemon too glares at the group who were gossiping about his Lady Wife.

She continued walking to her father, King Viserys, and her sister who saw the ordeal. “Sister, how are you” Alicent gives a warm smile to the younger as she hugs her, cautious of the baby in her arms. “The same as always, sister” Leyla deadpanned before turning to greet the King and her father.

Alicent looks to Daemon with a sad expression as he sighs. Leyla beckons for the wet nurse who quickly took the child out of her arms. She couldn’t even find it in herself to look at her daughter as she was taken away.

Both Daemon and Leyla were taken around to different conversations and the whole time, she would stare down at her cup and not utter a word. “Should we go retire to your solar?” The silver haired men says lowly against her head as she nods, Daemon knew she wanted rest, she didn’t even want to be here but she didn’t want to hurt her sister’s feelings by not showing up.

Leyla let out a loud sigh once she sat down. Daemon sat at the chair opposite and busied himself with a book. The wet nurse placed Alyssa back in her mothers arms. Soon after she immediately started crying as Leyla rocked her to try to stop her loud wails but to no avail, the Targaryen babe continued.

Daemon rubbed his temples as he watched his Lady Wife attempting to calm down their daughter. “Hasn’t she already been fed and changed?” Leyla looked to the wet nurse who looked nervous but nonetheless nodded.

“Then why does she keep crying?!” She muttered annoyed at her baby. “Take her, she’s driving me insane” The young Hightower stood up, ready to give Alyssa back to the wet nurse. “Alyssa is not going to be comforted by the wet nurse but by you Leyla” Daemon sternly spoke, his eyes not leaving the book.

Both the wet nurse and Leyla look at Daemon, Alyssa’s cries intensifying by the minute. “I am already exhausted as it is Daemon-“ “Your her mother, you should be able to soothe your own child, am I wrong?” Daemon finally looks up.

Leyla was baffled, she opened her mouth and closed it soon after. She felt like bawling her eyes out too. “Please, please, please Alyssa stop crying.” Her voice cracked as she patted the babe’s back and walked around her solar desperately trying to calm down her daughter.

The wet nurse and Daemon watch her as tears fall down Leyla’s eyes, Alyssa had still not stopped crying. Daemon stood up and walked over to Leyla and took their daughter from her arms.

He calmed her down in an instant as Leyla sat down, her hand massaging her forehead. The wet nurse took the baby from Daemon so that he could comfort his Lady Wife.

He said nothing as he moved her head against her chest as she sobbed. “I am so exhausted Daemon, Alyssa- she’s-she’s so much work and its draining me” She quietly spoke as Daemon did nothing but listen to her troubles and stroke her back soothingly.

“I am no cut out to be a mother-“ The door to her solar opened loudly and startled the girl. Quickly sitting up and wiping the remainder of her tears, Daemon rolled his eyes and leaned back on the chair, oh how he hated seeing his face around. If he wasn’t his wife’s father, Daemon would have slit his throat ages ago.

Otto first looked at the wet nurse who was rocking his granddaughter in her arms before looking at Leyla. With a stern voice he orders the wet nurse to leave, and then Daemon. “If you think I’m leaving my wife in the presence of her cunt of a father, your wrong” He chuckles as Otto’s lips part in disbelief.

“You think I’d harm my own flesh and blood, my Prince?” He raises an eyebrow at the silver haired man. With a shrug of his shoulders, Daemon looks at Leyla who’s gaze is on her hands as she picks at her nails. He holds her hand to stop her from harming herself before looming up at Otto.

“You’ve harmed her enough by arranging this marriage. Now, you either speak to her whilst I’m here or you don’t speak to her at all” Otto scoffs shaking his head before taking a seat opposite the two. “Daemon. It’s okay” Leyla finally looks up to him.

He lets out a breathe, “I’m not leaving this room,” He says before standing up and making his way to the bookshelf. The two Hightower’s watch the Prince before their attention go back to each other.

“There has been talk around the Red Keep that you have been acting differently,” He starts off, “And do you believe them? They’re just talk father, they know nothing” Leyla scoffs in disbelief. The fact that he assumes the talk is true without even consulting with his own daughter about it was sad.

“I don’t have to believe them Leyla, I have seen it myself,” Otto stares into his daughter’s soul as she gulps. His comment made Daemon look to the two. “It’s not difficult to notice how ignorant you are to your own child. Gods, you walk around the place like a ghost Leyla!” He half shouts.

Daemon makes his presence known as he takes a seat near the two of them. Leyla glances at him before looking at her father again, “Father I’ve just been tired and she’s alot of work!-“ “Don’t act as if you take care of the child. Your wet nurse and maids do.”

Daemon chuckles, “She takes better care of her own child than you ever did when Leyla’s mother died” He butts in. Ignoring the Prince’s comment Otto continues, “People are saying you are incapable of being a mother-“ “Because I am!” Leyla yells, leaning forward in her seat as tears start rolling down her face again.

Daemon shifts in his seat as he leans over and rubs her arm. Otto looks taken aback, he was not expecting that answer from her daughter. “Oh please father,” She chokes back a chuckle, “Don’t act as if you’re surprised. I’m 15 for gods sake! Of course I’m incapable of looking after another human being, what did you expect?” Leyla spat in anger.

All her pent up emotions building up from the past 2 months were finally spilling out. “You act as if it is my fault for your ill-manner behaviour towards your own flesh and flood!” Otto points to her. “If it wasn’t for your pressure of producing heirs for Daemon and this marriage, I wouldn’t be in this situation” Leyla spoke through gritted teeth.

Silence filled the room. “I think it’s best you leave, Otto” Daemon stands up and looks down at him. The man scoffs and gives one final look to his daughter before leaving the room.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Lamb (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Modern Daemon has bad blowjob etiquette. You think you can teach him a lesson.

Warnings: Smut. Rimming. That’s it. That's the fic. Nah, kidding. Cursing, trapped in an elevator, male masturbation. Casual workplace sexism.

A/N: The last two Sundays I decided to be sweet. But since my finals started, we go back to my scheduled period of being unhinged. And then I started my actual period and hated this so much. So if it sucks, sorry.

He is staring at you. Again.

You never understood the point of glass walls. If you owned the building, you would have them all replaced by real, actual walls. Or at least, you would put blinds on. But you don’t own the building.

The man that does is sitting in the office right across from yours, staring towards you. Daemon Targaryen. Board member of Targaryen’s Industries. Your father and he had been at each other’s throats since you had been a little girl. Otto Hightower and Daemon Targaryen hated each other, it was a fact of life. Him choosing the office right across from yours had been taken as nothing more than a taunt to your father.

But you knew better. Daemon was set on driving you to insanity. You scowled, and he smirked at you, closing his laptop and sliding those damn glasses off his face to look at you unashamedly. He looked starving. Like he wanted to eat you whole.

You didn’t actually know what his position was. It was hard to keep track. He had been appointed by the CEO, your godfather Viserys, to more departments than you could count. First, he had been head of marketing, but your father complained he was using too expensive models that were not on the budget. Then, he had overseen PR, which had been an absolute disaster. After that, he had been placed as the CFTO, only to be demoted a few weeks later. Then he had been… Well, you get the idea.

Daemon waves his hand, shaking you out of your contemplation. You quickly close your mouth, noticing you had your lips slightly parted, as if to speak a word that would never come out. He snickers, no doubt amused at what he perceives as a weakness.

He has done this for a month. You have to give it to him, he is a patient man. Daemon sits there every morning and just looks at you. Takes you in, as you flutter around your office, sometimes on the phone, sometimes typing away on your computer. He never gets bored, or tired of it. How could he, when he is a predator waiting to pounce?

You see, Daemon has been waiting weeks for a moment of weakness. Taunting you, looking at you, making you uncomfortable. And it’s fitting, really. That today of all days is the day you break. There is a storm raging outside, the worst winter Westeros has seen in years. Climate change it’s at fault, or so they say. You only know that you despise Daemon, and you despise thunderstorms.

His eyes. Purple and mischievous, meeting yours at every turn. You despise those. His little sideways smirk. That, too, you hate. You hate his entitled, nepo baby attitude, and you are sick of the taunts about your nephews and sister. His handsome face, and how good he looks in glasses. Annoying. You wish someone would put him in his place.

No one had actually expected you to enter corporate life. You see, as the daughter of an old money family, your father was sure you would do just as Alicent did and become the housewife of a rich man. The thing he didn’t take in consideration was that you had inherited none of your mother’s and Alicent’s grace and soft tempers, and all his cunningness.

You had gone to a good school, and had quickly risen through corporate ranks. You had a strong work ethic, but your last name had helped, too. Being the daughter of Otto Hightower had his perks, especially in university, considering you had been able to not worry about paying student debt and only focus on getting good grades. It also helped that you had a sure work once you had graduated, since Viserys Targaryen was not only your brother-in-law, but you were his goddaughter too. That last fact had made for interesting conversations after he married your older sister.

Still, you dedicated yourself to your work, trying to prove you deserved to be there as much as anyone else. It was a male dominated field, and working in the company where your father was CCO, and your sister married to the owner meant many expected you to be either looking for your own rich husband or to be a lazy nepo baby. Just like Daemon was.

The sound of thunder cast you out of your thoughts. You gave a quick glance at the window, noticing that once more, it was pouring. Not a good omen for your meeting. Thunderstorms always made you slightly uneasy.

Too wired to keep working, you shut down your laptop and slid it inside your purse. You had to be at the meeting room in fifteen minutes, which, in reality, meant you had to leave now. As soon as you stepped outside, however, it seemed destiny had other plans.

“Oi, sweetheart!” Daemon called, and you fantasized of strangling him with one of his expensive ties. You knew, without needing him to speak more, that he was about to taunt you. Still, he owned half the company, you couldn’t risk ignoring him. You turned, heels clicking in the hallway. “Bring me a soy latte, no sugar.”

“Mr. Targaryen, I’m sorry, I’m not your secretary. And I’m going to a meeting.” You answered, very politely, and started walking again, this time towards the elevator. Daemon followed, eyeing your ass with delight. You truly worked those dress pants.

“Come on, Hightower. We both know you are not really busy.” He arrived at the elevator first, to your disgrace, and pressed the button. Daemon leaned his arm on the wall, effectively caging you in. You glared at him, trying not to get distracted by how good he smelled. It’s not that you were attracted to him, surely. He just used an expensive cologne, and those always smelt good. Even your nephew Aegon, who was the sleaziest twenty-something you had ever met, could make them work.

“I am, though.” You ducked under his arm and pressed the button insistently, trying to get the elevator to arrive faster. Nothing happened.

“Doing what? Getting the rest of the board coffee?” Daemon snickered at his joke. You turned to look at him, giving him a disdainful once over that turned… Not so disdainful, when you realized he looked good enough to eat in that suit. Whatever, it’s not like it meant anything. All men did. Still, your cheeks heated up, and your next words came out in a mutter.

“Doing my job, Mister Targaryen. Which does not involve serving coffee.”

“Bah, you are a CDO. A made up position if I saw one.”

“I plan the whole company's social media strategy, and oversee our different digital platforms for purchase and devolution.” You glare even more, but quickly avert your eyes when you realize he is looking at you like he wants to eat you. Again. Gods, does he ever tire? “Hardly a made up position.”

“So you direct a bunch of nerds and interns. Big deal. You can still get me coffee, or send your minions to get me one.” Daemon stepped closer, twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers. You batted his hands away, shivering. From the cold, obviously. There was a storm raging outside, it had been one of the harshest winters in a while. It didn’t matter that you were wearing thermal clothes underneath your suit, which was wool. You were not affected by Daemon’s touch. At all.

“Here’s a novel idea.” You were just too angry to avoid insulting him. It was not often you resorted to those petty tactics. You left them to your nephews, Aemond and Aegon. “Why don’t you go bring me coffee? I don’t even know what you are doing in our department, you don’t even have Instagram, old man.”

Daemon laughed.

“Who are you calling old man, little girl? I will have you know, I know all about social media.”

“Oh, really?”

Daemon ignored you, typing something on his phone. You weren’t too bothered by it because the elevator finally got there, and you were able to step inside. Your phone pinged, as you did, so your hand went to the pocket of your blazer to check it. Distracted, you didn’t notice Daemon getting into the elevator with you.

Your phone pinged again. You took it out, checking the notification without unlocking it.

@caraxesrider has started following you

@caraxesrider: U were saying?

At that, you looked up and glared at him, startling a little at finding him inside the elevator.

“You know I will have to report this, right?” You quickly started scrolling through his Instagram, which seemed very… Normal. He followed his official one, and the accounts of his family members and plenty of models and fitness girls. In little clothing. What a pig. “You are not allowed to have an Instagram, apart from the official one that is in the hands of the community manager.”

“Says who?”

“Viserys.”

“Real mature, that you call him by his first name now. Tell me, do you think watching your father’s business partner marry your older sister, who is young enough to be her daughter, traumatized you?”

You ignored his taunt, frowning.

“I will report you to the PR department, they were clear you are not allowed to…”

“Not allowed.” He imitated your voice, mockingly. “Not allowed. Will you tell your daddy, little girl?”

“I’m serious.”

“Whatever. Report me. I don’t care, you are such a kiss ass.” Daemon rolled his eyes. It stung a little. You hated being called that. It was not your fault, truly. You liked following the rules. They were there for a reason. And Daemon’s antics usually made the company stock drop because his last name was attached to it. When Daemon got drunk and insulted a server or was spotted at a strip club, it was not him who suffered, but the company as a whole. He was a PR nightmare. His Instagram, no matter how private, would eventually leak and become another.

But whatever you were going to say, be it either a witty retort, or more talk about what you were going to do, died in your throat when the elevator jerked to an abrupt halt.

“What… What..?” You braced against the wall, the phone falling to the floor in your haste to hold on to something.

“Well, at least we still got power…” Daemon pointed towards one of the security cameras. “They will see us and then…” He didn’t get to finish his sentence because the lights turned off, leaving you both completely in the dark.

“You jinxed it!” You accused, voice shaking. You were not claustrophobic, nor were you afraid of the dark. What did scare you, however, was that you were trapped in an elevator in a building with no power, which as far as you knew, meant you could plummet to your dead anytime.

“Fuck. Never mind. Are you alright? You sound as if you are about to cry, and I can’t deal with crying people.” Daemon complained, switching on his phone, so he could light up the space. He truly looked concerned. He dropped to his knees to search for your phone and handed it to you.

“I’m fine. Just… Do you think we are safe?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Daemon banged on the wall of the elevator, making you let out a tiny yelp at how it shook.

“Don’t do that!”

“When elevators get less power, they jerk to a stop. It’s safe. It was probably the storm.” Daemon is leaning against the wall and starting to scroll through his phone. Like he is bored. And not, you know, terrified out of his mind because he is hanging from a rope in a metal cubicle caught between floors. The thought makes even more panic bubble up in your throat, so you try to think of something else.

“How do you know that?” You narrow your eyes at him, noticing how the light from his phone lighted up his sharp features, giving them an eerie blue glow.

“I read the OSH mail, every once in a while. That was in the winter’s newsletter.” He drawled, in a bored tone. “Come here.”

“Why?”

“Because you look frightened. Come here. I can make you feel better.” And he almost sounds convincing. Were the light on, you would be able to see that he is nearly salivating at the mouth, like the wolf about to pounce on a little lamb.

He has been working on you for a month. Little pretty Hightower, so tightly wound, always doing the right thing. So close to snapping. It’s like you were a present, placed on his lap by Otto himself when he sent him to this godforsaken department.

You gave him a dubious look, but stepped closer.

“Good girl.” Daemon brushed your hair back, gently. You were so close to breaking, he could taste it. “You will be just fine, just match your breathing to mine.

“I’m not having a panic attack, you fool.” You complained, trying to hide the hint of a smile on your lips. What was it about him that was so intoxicating? He had boosted your mood immediately. Oh, you hated feeding his ego.

"Rude.” Daemon muttered. He pulled you into a hug, pressing your bodies close. Chest to chest, hips to hips. Your curves against him, so damn soft, so ready for the taking. “There, there. It will all be fine.”

“I pity your kids.” Still, you melted into the hug regardless. Daemon took the chance to nuzzle your hair, hands trailing dangerously lower on your back.

“You are so rude and cunty. I can see the family resemblance.”

“Shut up, you inbred degenerate.” You mumbled against his throat, still hugging him. “You were chasing after your niece’s skirts not so long ago. And Viserys first wife was your cousin. Your family resemblance is worse.”

“I have not denied it.”

And of course, doing something very foolish, you tilted your head up and kissed him. Blame it on the sexual frustration, or the way he had shown you he had a decent side to him, but you never found him more tempting. Your kiss was heated, all teeth and frustration. If he responded, it would undoubtedly turn things less family friendly.

Daemon, never one to lose the opportunity to have sex, responded in earnest. How could he not, when he had been waiting for a chance to pounce for a month? His lips parted, turning the kiss into something much more dirty. His hands went to your hips, rolling them against his. You moaned.

When you parted, he had his trademark smirk on, full force. The one that said, Daemon Targaryen is a winner. The asshole was getting off on the thought of corrupting a Hightower.

You pressed a few careful kisses down his throat, making sure to not smear your lipstick in places that are noticeable. Daemon smells so good, it makes your knees weak. Fucking expensive cologne.

The arousal doesn't let you think straight, and he loves it. You are desperate for him already, Daemon can tell by the way you clutch and grope at him. And in truth, you are turning into a wanton little thing. Wet from just a few stolen kisses, it’s hard to think of all the reasons why this is wrong.

You want to suck his cock, badly. It’s not often, you are in the right headspace to give head. It gets guys too arrogant. And Daemon is already arrogant enough. The temptation seems too great, until he tries pushing your head down. Talk about a mood killer. It feels as if a bucket of cold water has been dumped on top of you, dulling your arousal and making you realize, in fact, you had been about to suck your nemesis off.

Daemon. You had been about to suck Daemon's cock. The guy who orders you to bring him coffee, as if you were some intern and not the head of your section. The guy who despises your family. The guy who calls you and your father kiss asses and Alicent a cunt. Twenty years older, brother to your godfather, man whore, Daemon.

Oh my god, are you turning into Alicent? Fucking men old enough to be your father? Being into Targaryens? Ew. No way. Viserys is nowhere near as appealing as Daemon. But still. What's next, leaving your career to pop out entitled brats?

You stop. Daemon pushes your head down again. It ignites a rage long settled on you.

“Are you seriously pushing my head down?” It comes out like an indignant little yelp. Turns out, the little lamb was not so willing to surrender, Daemon thinks. He has two choices. He can force you down, make you break. Or he can wait it out, lull you into a false sense of comfort, and slowly get you more and more pliant. Yet, he wants to see what you are about to do.

“Is it working?” He sasses, and you turn your head up to glare, even if he can’t see it in the dark elevator. Then, a thought sparkles in your mind. Kiss ass. And here you have someone who needs to be taught a lesson.

A thud. Your knees hitting the floor of the elevator, between Daemon's legs.

“Fuck. Are you really…?” He groans, and you hear another thud. Must be his head against the wall. Good. Perhaps this way, his two brain cells will actually connect.

You unbuckle his belt and open his trousers, the sound loud in the stillness of the elevator. It's done the fast and quick way, not really knowing how much time you have left before someone comes looking for you. You kiss his hipbones, then his thighs. Daemon tangles a hand in your hair, leading you to his cock. You go along with it, but do not touch him where he wants you to.

Instead, you go lower. And a bit further back.

“What are you…?” He asks, confused. Praying to god he showered that morning, you spread him open and lick a stripe over his asshole. His body seizes up, a moan leaving his mouth. “Oh, little girl… You are filthy.”

Daemon is clean, if a bit hairy. The carpet matches the drapes, you will be able to say now. This will be a little secret, between the two of you. When he mocks you in the boardroom, or asks you to get him coffee, you will be able to think of this moment. Not only have you seen him bare, but you intend to take him apart.

For all his posturing, he is only a man. It shows in the way he arches, hips bucking, desperate to find friction. Cock swollen and balls heavy, tip messy with precum. You lick at him, making sure to make the most obscene slurping noises you can, as if his ass was a fine meal. Daemon moans, hand desperately going to grab at the wall to keep himself upright, and you snicker.

“Tell me again how much of a kiss ass I am.” You taunt, curling one of your hands around his gorgeous cock. He is thick and warm in your grip, you can feel him throb in your hand. Your panties feel embarrassingly wet at the pure filth of the act you are performing, but also at the fact Daemon is losing control so steadily.

“You… Oh. Seven Hells. Fuck.” And it's not his fault, really. You have been steadily opening him up with your tongue, nearly french kissing his hole, only to spear your tongue right when he tries to form a coherent sentence. One of your hands keeps him spread for you, and the other is braced on his hip, to avoid him rutting and bucking. Daemon is so pent-up that if you weren't holding him, he would be humping the wall.

His hand tugs at your hair, harshly. You stop.

“What…?” He looks down at you, at the way your face disappears between his thighs, utterly confused. Then, he gives you a menacing growl, as if he were the one in control. “Don't tease, little girl.”

Daemon wears dominance well. It comes with being a Targaryen, you have realized. The entitlement oozes out of his pores. When he gives an order, he is used to at least five people jumping out of their seats to obey him. That gives any man an unstoppable confidence.

But it's not what you want. This is about rewarding politeness, not him acting like an entitled fool. You press down on the sensitive skin behind his balls, right on his perineum. You want him to beg. Not only will it teach him a lesson, but perhaps, get you railed after.

“Beg.” You order, pinching at his thigh.

“You are out of your mind if you think…” Daemon starts, but he quickly shuts up when you place a hand on his cock again. You are not what he was expecting, not what he was expecting at all. He underestimated you. Yet, he cannot say he doesn’t like what he is learning about you.

“Beg.” You insist, teasingly dragging your nails over his sensitive skin. Not enough to hurt, but to warn. Your teeth and mouth are very close to his most delicate parts, and he should remember it. “And be polite about it.”

“You will not get away with this, little girl. I’ll spank your pretty ass red.” Daemon complains, and you snicker. Funny, that he thinks that is a threat. You intend to do much worse to him.

“Oh, really? And who says you will have the chance?” Petty. Realizing you are not going to budge, and he cannot make you, Daemon lifts his hand from your head and pats you on the hair. Not an apology, no. A reward for a particularly clever pet. The game is not over yet. Not when he still has everything to play for. What is losing a battle when he can win the war?

“Please.” At his moan, you start jerking him off. It's a bit rough, without any lubricant, so you offer your hand to him, never stopping your tongue and mouth from working. Daemon catches the hint beautifully, spitting on your open hand. You go back to jerking him. His desperation is a heady thing. It gets you almost high on the thrill of it. You squeeze your thighs together, trying to get some friction on your clit. A shame you cannot touch yourself, with both hands busy.

You wish you could suck his cock, mouth watering with the sight. He has one of the prettiest you've ever seen, all flushed skin and slightly curved in a way you know would feel just right inside of you. And he is smells nice too, which is deeply unfair. Clean, yet still male and musky. Daemon tenses, cock throbbing in your hand. He is very close, about to spill all over you.

The sound of metal scratching against metal makes you jerk and pull away. Divine intervention, you think to yourself, as you get up and start rightening your clothes and hair.

“And where in the Seven Hells you think you are going?” His tone is so short and clipped, you worry he is about to pounce you. His breath is heavy. You bet, if you could see his face, he would be absolutely enraged.

“Are you deaf?” You answer condescendingly. You can hear how his teeth grit against themselves with how hard he must be clenching his jaw. “Bruxism is not sexy, by the way. You will hurt your teeth.”

“Deaf? Bruxism? What the fuck are you talking about? You just ruined my orgasm! I was so close and you, you… ” Daemon truly, truly wants to grab at you and choke you. He underestimated you. Again. Such a fool, he has been. Thinking he is leading his little lamb to the slaughter, and here you are, composed and retouching your lipstick without a care in the world. Oh, next time he gets his hands on you, he is going to make you cry.

“They are opening the door.” You answer, smugly.

“You little shit!” Daemon nearly screams. You cannot hold it any longer, and start laughing. The scratching turns louder, and Daemon hurries to tuck himself back into his suit.

When they finally open the doors, you strut out, not a care in the world. You kiss your father’s cheek, who is standing next to the security guys. Daemon glowers.

“Neither of you thought to text or call someone?” Otto asks, incredulous. He turns to you and checks you over. “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

“I didn’t hurt your precious little flower, Otto.” Daemon rolls his eyes. Now that he is standing in the light, you can see he looks slightly disheveled, cheeks flushed and standing awkwardly. You nearly smirk. “She is a cunt, just like you. If any, she hurt me.”

Otto glares at him, and places an arm over your shoulder, gently steering you away. He starts talking a mile per second, something about all meetings being adjourned because of the weather and waiting to give you a ride home. Of how worried he was, when you didn’t answer your phone and were not in your office. You hardly listen. Because your phone pings in your hand, another Instagram notification.

@caraxesrider: You will pay for that, little girl.

Your fingers fly over the keyboard in your haste to answer him:

I'm totally reporting you to the PR guys. XOXO.

[starogeorgina]

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬

Paring: Harwin Strong × reader

Warnings: Swearing, hints of violence

3.04

Not letting you out of answering, Harwin repeats the question, tucking your hair behind your ear, and softly asks, “Vaella, my princess, what has you so upset?”

A soft chuckle passes your lips. “You sound more like my sworn protector than my husband when you call me that.”

It was foolish of you to think you could have possibly snuck out without waking your husband when you returned to the bedchambers. Harwin was waiting on you, and seeing your trembling lips and swollen eyes, he insisted you sit while he sent for herbal tea to help calm you down. The room was cold, but the sweat was dripping down your forehead because of how stressed out you had become.

“I swore my life to you; being married doesn’t change that.” Harwin grows more concerned; he crouches down so he is on level with you, “And you are a princess, my princess. So please, tell me what happened.”

You felt so ashamed and disgusted with yourself for letting Criston think he could get close to you. Teary-eyed, you look up at him and say, “Cole kissed me.”

His breathing came hard and fast, and you could tell Harwin was trying to control his anger.

“After I held a blade to his throat.”

Profanities you’d never heard your husband utter before spill from his mouth as he struggles to control his rage. Eventually Harwin squeezes his eyes shut and tilts his head back slightly, letting out a deep sigh. “Why did you threaten him with a blade? Did he harm you?”

“I did it to protect Rhaenyra and her sons.”

“Protect her from what?”

For the first time in years, you struggled to find your voice. Every fiber inside you was screaming to tell him the truth, but it wasn’t your secret to tell. You feel sick as you decide what to tell him. May the gods forgive me for breaking a promise shared between kin. Quietly, you say, “He knows who Jacaerys' real father is."

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

You nod.

“The rats in the red keep have more honor than that insufferable Cole.”

You lean back in the chair. “Are you crossing with me?”

“I’m not cross,” he says, clicking his tongue. “But Cole is dangerous; he could have attacked you.”

“I know, I let my anger get the better of me and cloud my judgment. If I’d known he would have reacted that way, I would never have. I should never have confronted him without you.”

Harwin reaches over and runs his knuckle gently over your bump. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Usually Harwin’s jump between his anger at others and his softness for you would melt your heart, but right now it only aided your guilt. You've been keeping another secret from your husband, and the weight of it has been bearing down since he arrived in the red keep. You feel overwhelmed with emotions and wish you had confided in him sooner because the burden was starting to weigh heavily on your heart. You know that you can't keep hiding the truth for much longer, but the fear of his reaction makes you hesitant.

“Vaella, whatever it is—”

“The greens have been saying troubling things about your brother,” you blurt out. “I overheard the queen saying Larys orchestrated the death of Ser Richard.”

You study Harwin’s tense posture as he stands, feeling guilt seeing the tension he’s holding tightly in his face and the rage in his eyes. You reach for his hand. “My love?”

His eyes soften when he looks at you, but his anger doesn’t shift. “It’s late; you and the baby need to rest.”

“Harwin?”

He leans down, kissing you on the forehead. “I don’t want you to worry about any of this anymore; I’ll take care of it.”

Seconds later, you watch the door shut behind him, and hot tears squeeze from the corners of my eyes.

—

The tension in the air was thick as you sat around a table placed in gardens. You had insisted on it being outside since the fresh air would do you father good, despite Alicent protests.

Ser Lyonel was struggling to remain tight-lipped as his gaze was fixated on his son, while Harwim remained quieter than normal, no doubt to avoid a public argument with his father. Your children were not the wiser and were happily playing with your nephews nearby.

As you butter scones for your father, you say, “I received a gift from Pentos this morning, a gorgeous red gown.”

Smiling fondly, your father says, “Daemon has always known you’re a proud Targaryen.”

He was right; even as a child, you represented your house by proudly wearing red most of the time. It was only after your mother's death that you began wearing more blue as a way of honoring memory and your house, Arryn.

“And here I thought it was because the red resembles Caraxes.”

“Daemon was the one who picked up your dragon egg and placed it in your cradle the day you were born.”

“I always assumed you or my mother did.”

“Your mother hated the mere smell of dragons,” he laughs. “And after Rhaenyra’s egg never hatched in the cradle, I assumed yours wouldn’t either.”

It was when your father revealed information like this that you somewhat understood Daemon's frustration, as he, as a king ruling in the name of House Targaryen, should be doing the most to uphold your family's traditions. “Well, I shall most certainly wear the gown next time I see my uncle.”

The tension had eased slightly and normal conversation resumed, but not until Alicent approached the table with one of the Cargyll knights beside her.

Your father smiles at her warmly, and while Harwin and his father stand to greet the queen appropriately, you remain seated.

She presses her lips into a thin line. “I’ve just come to inform his grace that Ser Erryk will be standing in for my sworn protector for some time.”

Raspy breaths rumble from his chest as he looks up at her, confused. “Where is Ser Criston?”

“Ser Criston had an accident during the night and is currently suffering from several broken bones. He will be on bed rest for some time.”

You place a hand atop Harwin’s hand, discreetly covering his bruised knuckles, even though you assumed everyone aside from your father had heard of the brutal fight between the knights during the hour of the owl. He was called Breakbones for a reason after all.

As your father asks more questions about the 'accident', you notice the look of fear in Ser Lyonel’s eyes.

—

As you finish writing a thank-you message for Daemon and Leana, you feel the familiar cramps in your belly that you would always start experiencing at this stage of pregnancy. Knowing there wasn’t much else you could do for the aching, you decide to take a bath in lukewarm water to ease your discomfort.

Your lady-in-waiting helps you undress and fills the tub with water. You step into the soothing warmth and feel some of the tension slowly leaving your body.

As you soak in the tub, the warm water lulls you into a peaceful sleep. You don't realize how long you've been dozing off until you wake up, shivering to the bone. You find yourself submerged in cold water, and you quickly stand up, now wide awake.

You hear a knock on the door, and your husband enters the room. Harwin notices that you’ve gotten out of the tub on your own and tuts, “You must be the only princess who doesn’t take advantage of the help she can get.”

“Harwin…” You cut yourself off, feeling a sharp pain in your lower back. You let out a deep sigh. “Fuck, that hurts.”

He steps closer behind you and places his large hand on your lower back. “Here?”

You nod.

Harwin begins to rub your back, saying, “You don’t usually get back pain until you’re further along.”

You huff, “I’ll speak to the maester when we return to Dragonstone; perhaps I’m more pregnant than we think.”

You’ve hardly had any time alone with your husband to discuss anything that was revealed the night before, but just as you open your mouth to bring up Larys Harwin, she says something that sends shivers across your body.

“My father has asked me to leave for Harrenhal with him tonight.”

[greenqueenhightower]

Season 1 from Alicent's POV:

You wake up one morning and your mother is dead. You are told to ask no questions. Your father didn't use to pay much attention to you, but now he calls you to Red Keep. Maybe you will be useful. The King has an only daughter after all, close to your age. You like it there, and you become friends with the King's daughter. But then, her mother dies. You are not allowed to relive the grief of losing your own mother or grieve with your friend, because suddenly, the Queen is dead, and that leaves up space for another. Your father says so. More importantly, the King's Hand instructs you so and tells you to be the King's friend. "But we don't have anything in common," you say, "He very well could have been my father," you think. No matter. "You should wear one of your mother's dresses." And you do. And you try hard not to say the wrong thing, but you don't know whom you should please and you're not allowed to be yourself. "What would Rhenyra think? What would father think? What would the King think? What would The Seven think? What does that mean for me?" you wonder. You are advised to not talk about what you are doing to anyone. Oh, and don't tell your best friend you are secretly meeting with her father. Let this poison your relationship. Your King tells you so.

It has now become known that the King wants a new wife. You pray you'd get out of this somehow, but you realize that he wants you. Now, what will you do? Well, your father would be pleased and proud for once. Viserys would make you his Queen. Maybe Rhaenyra will understand? Maybe this is what you want too? No, don't think about what you want. It doesn't matter anyway. The King has declared that he will marry you.

The wedding is on. You see Otto's eyes glowing with pride and his smile is beaming. Rhaenyra does not even look at you. It pains you so much and you want to tear up but the King is watching. The feast is over and your father calls you to his chambers. He tells you about your duties as the King's wife. "If your mother was alive, she would know how to best put this," he says, as he explains that you have to yield to Viserys' desires. Yes, he uses that very word. So you do that. You go to your husband when he calls you. He says he will try to be gentle with you, but you loathe his very touch. Somehow it feels so wrong; he is your friend's father, and he is twice your age. But he is the King. And you are a Queen now.

The days pass without Rhaenyra's friendship. When did you stop dreaming? When did you stop being a little girl? Why can't you roam the halls again, arms linked together? Oh. You suddenly find out why. You are pregnant. You are a big girl now. Your first thought is to tell your friend, go to Rhaenyra, and share the news with her. But she wouldn't like that. Then who can you tell? Who else do you have to share such big and important news with? Your father doesn't need to be told, he guesses right away and calls you to him. "You will have to be very careful now," he says. "Queen Aemma had lost six children." Somehow, everyone is suddenly more attentive. Not to you, but to your royal womb. You panic when it's time to give birth. Everything is so new and terrifying. Viserys is happy. It's a son! You send word to Rhaenyra, to meet her baby brother. "I hope that is alright?" you think. "It's not like my son will be heir to the throne. That's still Rhaenyra's."

Your father hits you with the stark reality, however. Your children are growing up in an uncertain future with Rhaenyra as heir, constantly vulnerable to the threat of war. You still try and support her, you trust her, and you encourage her father to find a suitable match for her. But she lies to you. Or does she? You can't be sure. She is serving you half-truths. Does she really think you are stupid and you will not find out that she is no longer a maiden? How can you trust her again after that? If she is lying to your face, then why wouldn't she threaten the lives of your children if need be? No, you need to act. Your father was right. It's you or her.

Ten years have passed and you can still see through Rhaenyra's lies. She still thinks you are a fool, doesn't she? Of course none of her children are Laenor's! Why can't nobody else see that? But you can. Because you used to be friends once. And as usual, she is getting what she wants without questions and she avoids all consequences, whereas you have to fight for all you have, alone. She will always have Viserys' support, and you will always have four heirs. It's not about you and Rhaenyra anymore, but about the survival of your family. Yet, you still want decency and honor to prevail, and you want to serve the realm above all.

At this vulnerable time when you need council the most, your informant over the years finds a way to cast his net over you. Did you really think he was being a genuine friend, and that he would not want anything in return? Now you could be implicated in two murders. How did you end up in this situation? Larys becomes another person to whose wishes you should comply.

Then the most tragic thing of all happens. Your son, Aemond, is maimed. He loses an eye. You have never felt more excruciating pain at the sight and a flaming rage toward those responsible. It was Lucaerys, Rhaenyra's son. He should apologize. She could show she's sorry and deeply saddened over what happened. But no, she manages to use the incident to position herself as the victim. "Is she for real now?" you think. "How can she be so heartless, so cold, so cruel? Doesn't she know what I have lost, all in her hands? Does she really have the nerve to pretend that she is offended by mere words, while MY SON LOST AN EYE? She really knows no limits, does she?" And you finally snap, and you hurt her. You have never done this before, and now you see her blood trickling. Goodness, it's really her blood you spilled!

How can things ever be right now that she has that visible proof? Yet, you still think she would make a great queen. That is, until Viserys tells you that "Aegon" should be King and that you must "unite the realm against the cold and the dark." You are the only one who can do it. Now what? Once again, you face a dilemma. Should you stand by Rheanyra as heir, or should you trust Viserys' dying words? Can you really trust that Rhaenyra will ensure the survival of your children, after all her lies? And what is really best for them, and for the whole realm? Before you even have time to think, your father and the Small Council tell you that the succession is settled and that Aegon is to be crowned King. Once again, the desires of others precede yours. They want to kill Rhaenyra! Now, that's too much. You could never consent to anything like that. You were once friends and still--you still don't know how you quite feel about her. But you know you could never be the one to kill her.

The Silent Sisters cover up Viserys' body and you can finally mourn him, along with your lost years of innocence. Your abuser is finally dead. But your ordeals are not over yet. You will have to crown Aegon as King, this is the only way. Rhaenys violently disrupts the coronation and now you know that no one is safe. She will go to Rhaenyra, and Rhaenyra will react. Did you do the right thing? Did you try and protect your children and the realm as best you could? Time will only tell. You are used to the twists of fate after all. But one thing is certain: nothing will be the same again because you are the Green Queen and she has the blood of the dragon.

[bitchyglitterfox]

Hey angel!How are you?I saw that you are taking request and i slided in!Rn i’m in my Criston Cole era (i will defend that man till i die) and i really need a good smut for him.So can you write a smut piece where the reader is Alicent and Viserys daughter and she has been in a secret relationship with him for some time but now she is about to be wed to some lord,a political marrige,and when she tells Criston things doesn’t have to end between them he accepts to be her wh0re?(basically what Rhaenyra and Harwin Strong have)Thank you if you decide to write this!❤️

I'll gladly be your whore - Ser Criston Cole x F!Reader

Bestie! Say less!! I whipped this baby up while rewatching the first 5 episodes because ya know I can't wait for this week's episode. I hope you like this anon

Words: 1.1k

Warning: 18+ SMUTTY SMUT, oral (M receiving), Breeding, time period language, not proofread, cheating?? usage of whore, PiV, unprotected sex because it is HoTD (wrap it before you tap it), basically used the Rhaenyra and Ser Criston scene as a reference, aged up Viserys and Alicent daughter, F! reader but no use of y/n, arranged marriage, I think this is all?? let me know

A/n: Im a lesbian, im fine with writing straight couple smut, I read myself but like I've never had hetero sex so if yall can give me tips on how to write it id greatly appreciate it.

»»————-　♔　————-««

“I am to be wed to Lord Lannister,” you say as you stand on the balcony connected to your bed chambers, the slight summer breeze blowing through your hair. Your secret lover Ser Criston appears next to you and gently takes your hand. 

“When?”  he asks giving your hand a gentle squeeze and wrapping his empty hand around your waist, his armor bringing you comfort. 

“My father says in the marrow, but due to Rhaenyra being wed and his failing health, however mother says it is now my duty to wed in order to bring more allies to the throne once he is gone and Rhaenyra becomes queen,” you say sighing and turning to face Criston. 

“Queen Alicent is a smart woman and only wants what is best for the kingdom.” 

“But what I want doesn't matter, this marriage is only for politics, no love will ever be involved, you are my true love forever more. If I am to wed the lord lannister, I want you beside me, we can continue our love" you say as you place your hands on his cheeks. 

He relaxes in your touch, eyes closing. 

"You will be by my side protecting me from all those who wish to do me harm and by night bedding me while my future husband goes to his whores and fucks them as much as he pleases" you whisper removing the space between you and letting your lips connect. He responds back hungrily as he pushes you against the ledge. 

He pulls away "for you my love I would go back to the ends of the earth," he says as he leans his forehead against yours, "let us enjoy the rest of the night as husband and wife before you are to wed the lord in the morning, let me give you a glimpse of the rest of our lives." 

You smile as you lead him once more to your bed, you both sit pulling off your shoes. Once they are off you hike up your dress and move to sit in Ser Criston's lap already feeling his hardening cock rub against your bare cunt, unbuckling the armor that covers your lover, throwing off his chest piece. 

"Tonight my love, it is  I who will show you just how much I love you," you say as you kiss his neck, feeling him stifling a moan. You smile against his neck, pulling off more of his armor while he undoes the back of your dress. 

You let the top the dress fall from your body. The warm summer breeze blowing in from the open doors of your balcony, the breeze nip at your exposed breasts hardening your nipples, his hands finding a home on both of your breathes, pinching both your nipples in his hands. You can feel the heat spread to your core. You both smile at each other kissing again passionately, your hands finding their way to his curly locks of raven hair, while his hands slide down your spine. 

You pull away from the kiss giggling already drunk on his lips, you slip off his lap and kiss his neck, slipping your hands down to his trousers pulling them down freeing his now hardened cock. 

“Shall I show the grand Ser Criston how a princess can suck his cock better than any common whore” you smile up at him as you grasp him gently, you lean forward and take him in your mouth running your tongue up the vein that runs the length of his cock. He moans your name as he leans back gripping your sheets.

“Fuck, a princess with the mouth like a goddess,” he bites his lip as you stare up at him with your violet eyes, eyes that the moment they laid his own eyes on you at one of the many balls King and Queen Targareyn have thrown, “my love if you keep moving your mouth and hand like that I won't last long” 

You smile up at him and pull your mouth off his cock with a wet plop, “Then I shall help you finish inside me and have you put a baby in my belly” you say while slipping off your dress completely, your slick visibly gliding down your thighs. Criston lets out a groan while stripping himself off his shirt now completely bare as well. 

You smile as you lick up his cock with your hole and let him slip in, the stretch delicious as you both gasp, Criston fills you up nicely and deliciously so. When he gains composure he begins to thrust up into you as you moan gripping the back of his neck as you meet his thrusts. 

His hand grips your hair as he gently pulls your head back to have your mouths meet, gliding his tongue into your mouth, the muscle savoring the taste and warmth of your mouth as your tongues glide over each other. His free hand grips your hip and the hand in your hair releases you and slips down between both of your bodies, finding your bundle of nerves, he sweeps his calloused thumb across it gaining a moan of his name across your kiss swollen lips. 

A few more thrusts into your cunt, a few more swipes across your clit, you are both coming undone together. Breathy ‘i love you’s are said as you finish. You both go under the covers, drawing unrecognizable shapes on his bare chest as he does the same to your shoulder. 

“You know I dont mind being your whore as you serve as a lord’s lady wife if it means I can have you for the rest of my days, my love,” he says smiling at you, the humor in his voice noticeable when he calls himself your whore. 

“I would want nothing less, well i would also want your babies in my belly. Seeing as how hard you put your seed in me tonight there is a chance for that” You smile up at him kissing him gently and then rubbing your nose against his cheek, “Do you think i will be a blushing bride in the marrow?” 

“I do believe so my princess,” he says as he kisses your hair, “But as of right now you must sleep for tomorrow you will be walking down the aisle” 

“Very well,” You yawn, the love making and events of the day catching up to you, “I love you Ser Criston.”  

“I love you as well my princess” 

In the morning you were wed to Lord Lannister, the wedding was beautiful this time with no deaths, that night instead of consummating the marriage the good Lord Lannister went to the brothel while you and Ser Criston consummated instead, his beautiful blushing bride, that night you also said your own vows.

[ride-thedragon]

HOTD CHARACTERS AS ALBUMS:

Alicent Hightower as 30 by Adele.

Now that we are finally here, and I'm starting with my faves.

What is 30 by Adele?

It's her latest album that covers the topic of her divorce and the challenges she faces in the wake of it with the idea of motherhood impacting her decisions and thoughts around this time. Her signature ballads and intertwining of genres are apparent, but the story she invokes is that of trials and a time of change in her life.

So Alicent?

Yes. It's the album I think best fits her arc in season one and prepares for the rest. Let's go through this song by song. But also go listen to the album and think of her because at the end of the day. This is my interpretation.

30 x Alicent.

Strangers By Nature

Now, this first song is the introduction to the album. She's apologising to Lovers from the past, the present, and the ones in the dark. Taking back anything done wrong against them and saying that by the end, they were all strangers by nature to her.

If we are talking about Alicent I think that's were season 1 leaves her. So much is being uncovered about her and her character especially outside of Viserys in Episode 9 I think it's a good song within that context.

No one really knows her now, fully to her entire extent. How she loves, what she does to ensure she's kept aware of situations, what she stillnholds on to is kept guarded and compartmentalised for certain things.

Easy on Me.

This was the biggest hit off the album. It's a song about a dissolving marriage, a song dedicated to her child and childhood, and overall, it is very Alicent.

I think it applies well as a reflection of who she had been. Trying to balance her love for Rhaenyra and her duty to her father and Viserys. The betrayal and anger and disagreements she found herself in.

Say what you will but as the bridge of the song puts it,

"I had good intentions

And the highest hopes

But I know right now

It probably doesn't even show."

If that isn't her, what is?

My Little Love

Now I find Adele just extremely Alicent coded, but the reason I chose this album instead of 21 or 25, for example, is because this album was dedicated to her child.

I refuse to explain this one. Go think of these gay lovers and cry your heart out because it hurts.

But also, it's a song of her explaining everything up until her divorce to her son. Kind of reckoning with the failure she feels and how stuck and stranding it all is.

For Alicent, I think it's the same. By the end, she's reconciling her past with her future. Trying to appease her want for Aegon to be crowned with her love for Rhaenyra and to an extent Viserys. She's also around all her children in episode 9, which is interesting when thinking about the song.

Cry Your Heart Out

Hello, season 2 Alicent. I genuinely think this is the direction it is going to go in because its just tragedy after tragedy for them. Especially when we see her under water and near water so much, baby girl, cry your heart out, it'll clean your face.

Oh My God

Alicole girls. Hi.

This is entirely Criston and Alicent coded for whatever they have going on.

I'm having a hard time doing this because I want you guys to go listen to it. But basically, the song is about this guy who she's with during this time who's her place of refuge with all he conflicting narratives and lies around her.

Also religion.

Can I Get It?

Otto fans, Rhaenyra fans, Alicent fans, and fans of her children. You get to decide who this is about. It's about wanting to be someone's after everything you've done for them, everything you've been through to be at their side. Counting for someone to put you back together after everything is...

I Drink Wine

Hey alcoholism. Genuinely, this is thee Rhaenicent song of the Album. How can someone become so bounded by the choices somebody else makes? And it just goes down from there.

All Night Parking Interlude

I'm going to say Criston. I think they genuinely found a sense of home together.

Woman Like Me:

Hello episode 1 to 10 Rhaenicent. Hello, Viserys Targaryen. It's basically her saying, "How dare you?" Do you know who I am? What is expected? And slaying.

Hold On

Episode 8 Alicent Hightower, the woman you are.

To Be Loved

Season 2 Alicent. "I will choose to lose it's a sacrifice" and "you have no idea the sacrifices made to put you on that throne." That arc is going to play out so well. I'm geeked. An ode to her conversation with Rhaenys as well.

Love is a Game

The effect of Otto Hightower on women recorded by Adele.

Wild, Wild West

Now, this is such a random part of the album, but I do think it's a part of the charm. Unlike Larys Strong, who I hope burns in hell. Anyways, because big pivotal moments happen to her in different places, let's say rats what this is.

Can't be Together

Rhaenyra and Alicent, the tragedy you are. I'm so sorry I wasn't it westeros to save you from this.

Conclusion

Listen to the album Alicent folk. Listen and see if it's your pick. It's certainly mine.

Next up is her counterpart, Rhaenyra.

[yukidragon]

U know? Actually we always talk about Jack or Alice having a happy family, seeing their ups and downs or their actions towards the pregnancy and the baby.

But in reality we have never stopped to think if the son of Jack and Alice feels about having a ghost father which only he and his mother can see and touch. Wouldn't this create some kind of conflict for the child? I mean, it's great to have a supernatural dad but no one except your family can see or touch him, it's great that you can do tricks like "fly" or "have telekinesis" but after all everyone think you don't have a dad.

Other than that, the boy would gain his father's powers? It would be half human half ghost hybrid? He would be unlucky enough to meet Ian and he told him: "I should have been your father"? What consequences do you think this would generate for the child and what would be its advantages?

This is an excellent line of questioning. There's so many possibilities that are involved, especially since we don't know how the game's story is going to go. For all we know, there might be a happy end route where Jack becomes human again... or maybe a route where he becomes something else and keep his powers while still being able to be seen by others.

My previous pregnancy headcanon posts were done with the assumption that Jack's ability to affect reality stays the same since there's so many variables involved if it changes and how he might settle into living as a normal person. This was to keep things simple for me. It also offered some interesting storytelling ideas, like Ian seeing Alice and her kids talk to empty air, yandere Ian watching Alice get yanked away from him, Jack carrying his baby and (deceased) sunshine out of the hospital, Shaun having to drive Alice to doctor's appointments because Jack can't, and of course what would happen if Jack drove while unseen by others and using his spooky ghost(?) powers on a speed radar.

Personally, I do believe that Jack becoming real and tangible to others is going to be part of the climax of the game... for good or ill depending on the route.

Still, it's fun to consider how the kids might deal with having a dad that only they and their mom can see. It would be something normal to the kids. If anything, they might get upset at people treating them like they're lying and making things up. Alice and Jack would have talks with them early on that Jack is special, so only they (Alice and her kids) can see/hear/touch him. Jack pipes in that it's because they're even more special. Cue a proud papa pulling them all in for cuddles.

It would be a strong source of frustration, but Alice and Jack wouldn't have children without considering that problem. They would've practiced how they would explain it all in a way that would impress upon the kids that it's better not to mention that their dad is a ghost(?). I figure the official story Alice would tell people she can't trust with the truth about Jack is that her partner is shy and reclusive (which was hard for her to say with a straight face the first few times). He is camera shy, and he prefers to only show his face with people he trusts.

Alice would even try to get her family and friends in on the act. The more people who claim this is true, the less likely it seems to be a lie that's been made up. The kids would be encouraged to avoid talking about their dad with strangers or people that aren't close to them, like the family.

I don't have too much in mind yet for their eldest son, but I can imagine him wanting his dad to carry him so he can "fly" and impress other kids. Jack would have to explain that would get the bad kind of attention.

If there's one thing Jack would impress upon his kids, that would be stranger danger. He has reason to greatly distrust "other people." Sure, he's managed to open up more thanks to Alice, but she's a pretty guarded person herself.

Though Jack will compromise and let his son pretend to be a superhero and fly around when playing with his cousins. They know about uncle Jack after all, and were also told to keep it a secret.

Kids being kids, chances are one of them might tell someone else anyway. Even if rumors spread... who is going to believe it that a classmate's dad is an invisible clown? The parents would just tell their child that whoever told them was just making it up. It would be something Jack and Alice would've cautioned their kids not to do for this reason after all.

It would be a complicated situation, one that would require a lot of talking about, but ultimately Alice and Jack would emphasize that some people are just really special. Not everyone will be able to understand things like that, and that's okay. They have each other, they love one another, and they take care of each other. That's what counts.

As for powers... I really like the idea of the kids getting some sort of supernatural power out of the whole deal. I'm not entirely sure what exactly. Hell, maybe if they hold Jack's hand or hold onto him, he'll be solid/visible/audible to everyone who sees him. I mean... they're half of Alice and half of Jack. If they have some of his supernatural abilities and Alice grounds him to reality, what if they could, even unknowingly, do the same thing even more effectively?

It would fit with the idea that Jack would become more real the more his sunshine loves and needs him. His kids would be born needing him.

Aside from that, I'm not entirely sure what their powers would be. I'd be inclined to have them all have different abilities related to the things Jack can do, but not all of them. They're decently powerful, but not as powerful as he is. There's so many possibilities here that I'm not sure where to start. I'd have to give it more thought.

As for a bitter Ian telling their son that he should've been the father... That would confuse the hell out of any kid. Then there's Jack and Alice's reactions...

Alice, when she's a mother, will have strong mama bear instincts. They'll be enough to make her push back strongly against even Ian for her children's sakes. If she overheard Ian saying that, she would snap at him, telling him coldly that no, no he would not have been. She then would tell him to get the hell away from her son and never talk to him or any of her other kids ever again.

Jack's reaction would be worse, naturally. While he would have mellowed by this point to be less violently yandere... Ian would be having nightmares for quite a while to pay him back for that and to scare him away from Alice and the kids. At minimum.

Depending on how hard Ian pushes his luck, he might push Jack into deciding that he really does need to be taken care of... permanently.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur

[dulcewrites]

I need to see this conversation between the two of them 😭 Aemond being emotionally vulnerable is so rare and precious.

I Got You, Babe

“Based on the baby book my mom gave me, bean can’t respond to sound just yet.”

Aemond looks up from Myrah’s belly with a frown. “I’m sure bean can hear us though. We are his parents.”

“His?”

“Helaena said it’s a boy. You know she was weird huntches about this stuff.”

Aemond wasn’t wrong. Helaena did weirdly predict certain things. But she had to stop saying most of them outloud after Aegon called Alicent freaked out when Helaena randomly texted one day that he was gonna die when he’s 81.

Be grateful. That’s longer than anyone thought, texted Aemond in the group chat.

“Well, they don’t understand they are hearing us,” Myrah leans her head back against the pillow. “But I think I’m gonna play Mariah Carey for bean so they come out with good taste.”

Of course her child would have to be a lamb. It just sounds right.

“Hey bean, it’s your dad,” Aemond leans his ear against Myrah’s belly. He nods as if he hears something. “Bean says they’re nice and warm in there.”

Myrah laughs. “I’m glad the accommodations are to their liking. I do my best.”

She combs her hair gently through Aemond’s hair wondering if the child inside of her will resemble him or her more. Or will they be a hodgepodge of their features. Her eyes, his lips, her nose, his hair. The hair last down from Viserys to amazingly all his children.

“I was on the phone with Rhaenyra today on the way home from work,” Myrah wonders if she should even bring this up but she knows if she doesn’t she will regret it.

“Hmmm,” she can tell Aemond begins to check out at the mention of her.

“And I asked her if she could get a list of referrals for me,” she pauses for a moment. “From her therapist.”

Aemond’s gaze goes from her belly to her eyes. “You want to go to therapy?”

Myrah nods. “Or at the very least see if I can find someone. It was not something I thought about till recently, but I think it could be beneficial. If I have the means, why not? I wish everyone could have the chance to.”

Aemond nods silently.

“I could ask her for a list if you want to try and find one too.”

“No,” he answers immediately. “No thank you”

Before she can mask it, Myrah frowns.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s clearly not nothing if you asked,” he sighs, sitting up. “And made that face.”

Myrah likes to think that much of the success Aemond and her have had relationship wise is because of how honest they are with each other. There should be no reason to stop now, especially with the knowledge they will be expected to raise a child together.

“If this about how I will be as a father I-“

“It is not about that,” She sits up herself. “At least not all about that. You should want it for yourself before anyone else.”

“Want what?”

“To work through how you feel - felt about your father.”

“Have you ever thought that maybe I don’t care to think about him anymore,” Aemond scoffs.

“No, I haven’t because I know that would be a lie. I saw your face at the funeral. I saw your face when he asked to come to the wedding. As someone who loves you so much, it hurts to see, and if there was a way for you to understand that none of that is a reflection on you. Or your siblings or Alicent. I think you’d be better for it.”

Her mother has always said she pushed people. If something was on the tip of her tongue or the top of her brain, she had to express it. A blessing and curse really; it took years of unintentionally stepping on toes to figure out the happy medium.

Aemond looks down, and mutters something.

“What,” Myrah reaches out to grab his hand.

“Then it becomes real,” he whispers.

“Oh, Aemond.”

He knows that if he has to talk about it, face it head on, that he will have to come to the realization that Viserys is gone, really gone. And that his father left the world giving Aemond the same thing he did when Aemond came in it… absolutely nothing.

“My love, you’re allowed to mourn him. You’re allowed to mourn what did happen, or what could’ve been. Hell, you’re allowed to be upset that you want to mourn any of that.”

Aemond swallows, and chews on his lip.

“Just think about it,” Myrah squeezes his hand. “Sleep on it and if you still feel the same way in the morning I will drop it. Scout’s honor.”

Despite himself, Aemond snort at the last part, and Myrah holding out her pinkie for a promise. He sighs and laces his with hers. His other hand goes back to her belly.

“Your mom is one tough cookie,” he murmurs. “But we are lucky to have her.”

[tani-b-art]

Maxine’s Baby: The Tyler Perry Story

Perry’s legacy in film, in Black American culture is imprinted. Generationally. What he’s done in the industry is groundbreaking. His non-traditional approach and method to all he’s accomplished is a testament to what we’ve always done as Black Americans when it comes to everything — having a seat at our own table we built. He broke the mold and shattered the glass ceiling. He truly has the Black American, ancestral lineage of perseverance running through his blood!

I also learned so much more about him and his relationship with his mother and his mother in general that I hadn’t known. Also, parts of him speaking about his mother connected a lot of why he has certain perspectives on life and relationships. The Black women in his life (his mother and aunt who is hero-like in my opinion for the type of action of love) truly played the biggest roles in his shaping as a young boy to becoming a man. We got an inside view of his mind and the journey of him becoming who he is.

Seeing the enormity of his success just is positively moving and stirring. I found myself super proud with the scenes of the grand opening of his ultimate studio! Those parts of the docu had me feeling like I could conquer anything. All of the studio grand opening touched my heart and made me smile tears of joy in the simple fact that he is the embodiment of our ancestors’ love, hope and courage. He built on what they started and I can feel them saying, “Well done.”

It’s moving and emotionally charging.

He also allowed us into the parts of his life as a father to his son. You can tell all that he does and is doing is to be able to give out the love he wished he could’ve gotten from the father-figure in now life. His relationship with his son is so beautiful.

The intimate portrait, bio styled documentary was a great watch. I definitely recommend.

Now….I must speak on the issues that I took with aspects of his footprint on the landscape of film.

Perry loses me when he says things like, “…what we’ve done to each other as Black people who are successful…”. He referenced the boycotting Amos ‘N’ Andy had received in its time along with Alice Walker’s The Color Purple. Amos ‘N’ Andy’s controversy: this show (was a TV adaptation of the radio sitcom of two white men who “adopted stereotypical dialect, intonations, and character traits that had been established in the blackface minstrel tradition in the 1800s”) came out in the midst of the Jim Crow era. An era we all know served to present imagery of Black Americans in racist propaganda replete with racist stereotypes and tropes. And the actors weren’t white men in blackface but actual Black men in these roles. Which is also the similar criticisms Perry’s Madea character receives.

The two shouldn’t be paralleled. Amos ‘N’ Andy was clearly stereotypical mockery (and no condemning the actors at the time) while Walker’s book is “inspired, in part, by a story that Walker's sister told her, about a love triangle involving their grandfather.” It is an account of real life experiences—a real depiction of what Black people, specifically Black women, were going through in the early 1900s in the Deep South. On the heels of freedom (this is post American slavery with the signing of the Emancipation Proclamation) yet still facing the aftershocks of “ending” slavery (racism has never ended), Black women still faced slave-like treatment from former plantation & slave owners and now sexism & patriarchal treatment from their partners (I say now not in a sense of this being completely new). All while gaining more freedom in their outspokenness for the domestic plights they faced with their significant others and demanding equal rights.

Walker’s book and the following film adaptation received backlash on account of the increasing fracture between Black women and Black men in a post “free” society.

Perry also mentioned the not so pleasant views Langston Hughes had with Zora Neale Hurston and her usage of the Black Southern dialect in her writings. That too is incomparable because again, she conveyed real life. These were not caricatures she fictionalized for comic relief.

(please leave Alice Walker and Zora Neale Hurston’s works alone in correlation to yours)

Or in an appearance from Killer Mike (in Perry’s documentary) alluding to the fact that other groups of people don’t take issue with the negative depictions of their people in film.

One — yes they have and do. Has he spoken to any other ethnic group to ask?

Two — yes, your core demographic, who is Black, will have the most dialogue regarding your work. Who else would? White people? No, because you don’t make art for them. Your work is rooted through the lens of Black Americans. Of course the biggest critique will come from us.

We have a very different relationship with our own country and the world at large. Centuries of ridicule in minstrel shows with not Black (because yes, it wasn’t only white people performing in blackface to mock us) people donning blackface or in film with dangerous propaganda that single-handedly created a racist, terrorist group (k k k). We are still dealing with the aftermath of these harmful depictions and are in constant corrective mode. It’s a continual action.

He spoke about intention as well. And while I don’t believe Perry’s intention of the Madea character (or any of his characters in his films, shows or plays—that’s a different conversation…among other talking points surrounding him can be discussed in an entirely separate talk) was to be problematic it is very damaging to the representation of Black American women — two things can exist. Especially considering all the negative portrayals and images of us over the many, many, many years in all forms of media that the character fits into (again no condemnation on any of the actresses at the time).

But with everything I’ve said, Madea will just always have a kindred connection with me.

I was first introduced to Tyler Perry years ago from a cousin who lent me a VHS of both “Madea’s Family Reunion: The Play” and “Diary of a Mad Black Woman: The Play”. And when Madea came across my screen in that loud shiny red funeral squirt suit, there was an instant likability! I laughed more than I had from anything scripted — in fact, his plays were the first time I had ever watched a stage play. And from then, I have always had a special place in my heart for his plays and for Madea! I purchased 6 DVDs of his plays afterwards and the “Diary” film while I was in my freshman year in college and those plays got me through my first year.

I am glad he’s since retired the character and opened a new chapter of the work he’s putting out but I can acknowledge that Madea and the work pre-Madea’s retirement has been and is a source of joy for me.

And I think that’s what Tyler wants to do with all that he does.

Bring us joy.

[lya-dustin]

Someone will remember us

Chapter 21

Cw: atonic seizures, mentions of death

Taglist: @fyeahhotdocs @ocappreciationtag @arrthurpendragon @stargaryenx

Gif by: @gojuo

“Did you have to tell him you were going to meet with him today?” Teora removed Aemma’s silk bonnet and ordered for her cure all for hangovers.

Aemma wasn’t hungover, just angry at Aemond and hoping he will come running to her and tell her what she needs him to say.

If he refuses to fight for them, then she will not waste her time waiting for him. The Pearl of Dragonstone is on a deadline and if he doesn’t want her, then fuck him.

But one thing is saying it and another thing is doing it.

“Yes, he already conceded to change it to late morning.” Aemma answered her great aunt as the servant girls dressed her in a pretty sky-blue dress that was modest and light enough to keep her cool. Her ringlets are partially held back with a ribbon and there is a light powder that hides her lack of sleep.

Aemma is nothing short of beautiful and maidenly, she can never be less than perfect.

When they go down to the great hall, Cregan gives her a small smile as if he had not expected her to come.

She feels terrible because there is no spark with him.

If she could give it time, maybe it could happen gradually, but the princess isn’t sure if it will ever happen.

His grief is still fresh and Aemma’s heart refuses to admit anyone else.

Even Ghar is not too keen on him, preferring to have Teora carry him in her arms like a baby and hissing at Cregan from there.

Another reason she cannot marry him, Ghar doesn’t like him.

“Valyrian tradition dictates that a dragonrider cannot rest if his murderer lives, grandfather needs to have Seasmoke kill Qarl Correy so my father can enter the Isle of the Blessed with our ancestors.” Aemma explained to Cregan as they walked the paths in the gardens.

They walk arm in arm, he had offered his arm and she had reluctantly taken it at Teora’s silent insistence. She agreed to give him a chance.

And to her disappointment he was not so bad.

Although he wasn’t as passionate about progress, or cared much about philosophy, and he was far too righteous. Saw the world as black and white, forgetting there was gray.

But he was steadfast, he was a great swordsman, he cared for his people and his family.

And yet, much like her, his heart is not ready to let another person in.

Six moons is not enough time to grieve a person who was with you your entire life. He loved Arra and loves her still.

Aemma has no wish to become like Alicent.

“First you accuse him of murder and now you tell him about our traditions regarding it, you are the oddest girl I know, Aem.” Aegon tsked. He walked with Helaena, both at a respectable distance because of Hel’s dislike of physical touch.

“Oh, shut up, Aeg.” Aemma rolls her eyes.

“You may leave, Septa Teora, I believe between the two of us, Aemma has enough chaperones.” Helaena dismissed Teora who handed her the petulant little dragon and the mother of three cradled him like he was one of the twins.

“Besides, Aemma could take him if he tried anything.” She added with a cheeky smile.

“Our niece isn’t afraid to use violence, Lord Stark.” Aegon said and showed him the faint scars Aemma’s nails had left on the side of his face.

Had he truly repented?

Was this Aegon not the monster she had last seen?

“I would be a fool to even think of doing such things, your highness.” Stark even managed a smile.

Perhaps in a different lifetime they could be something.

----

Its early afternoon when Aemma and the Queen requests her in her chambers.

Alone.

No Ghar, no ladies, no Teora.

She doesn’t like it.

“I don’t think I have spoken to you since you arrived here.” The queen gestures for her to sit with her.

Aemma is suspicious of this sudden closeness. “You have never liked me, so I assumed nothing of it.”

She is not supposed to be so blunt, but Aemond and Cregan Stark both like her bluntness, therefore everyone else must be wrong about their opinions of it.

“I will cut to the chase, there are rumors that you are not a maiden. My father and I believe it is in the best interest of our family that we end them.” Alicent begins and Aemma knows what she means.

The queen means to have her inspected by not a maester, but by septons and septas handpicked by the Most Devout to inspect her maidenhead.

It is a test to humiliate her.

And she cannot escape it.

Even if she passes the inspection, everyone will speculate as to why it was needed in the first place.

Aemma will never escape the whispers and the gossip that have plagued her since birth and neither will her children nor the man she marries.

She has been branded a whore even if she has never had sex.

“You will do no such thing, your grace. My mother will never consent to it and if you cannot trust my word for it neither you nor your father are worth the salt in your blood.” The princess rose to leave, and the queen takes her by surprise.

“I know about you and my son. I know that while the horses were being readied the two of you were in a locked room without chaperones and that when your attendants returned the two of you were disheveled and my son had a bite on his neck.”

So, she is the one who stole their correspondence.

How could a mother be so callous to the feelings of his own child?

It shouldn’t surprise her, but Alicent’s desire to see everyone as miserable as her knows no bounds.

“Already there were rumors of you that reached Lord Stark, Aemma. If we do not put an end to this talk, the paternity of your children will be questioned.” The pious queen pretends she cares about Aemma and her already fragile reputation.

“Just like you spearheaded the gossip of my brothers’ paternity?” Aemma asked.

“It is clear to everyone that your mother cuckolded your poor father, girl. Do not act like I was the only one who did.” Alicent has the fucking audacity to claim she never insulted her father to her face or even humiliated him for years because of his sexual preference.

“Your grace, you and your court have spent six and ten years looking for any reason to humiliate my family, have you not had your fill of it?”

The queen says nothing about it instead she orders Ser Criston to escort her back to her chambers. What else will she do? Send her to bed without supper?

-----

“Prince Aemond is your suitor, isn’t he?” Teora confronts her charge as they played Mancala. She was winning too, but she has always been better at playing it given Aemma’s lack of patience.

“Yes, but I doubt it matters now.” The princess grumbled as she picked up the stones and cursed when she saw the last pit had four seeds instead of the three she had miscounted.

“And why is that?” the septa asked the girl who played with her sapphire necklace when she was in a bad mood.

“I called him a coward when he turned down my suggestion of eloping after my nameday.” She admits as she played her turn and captured two consecutive pits of two stones. “I won’t marry Cregan Stark, he is a great man, but there is no spark with him. Besides Ghar disapproves of him and he is a great judge of character.”

“Elēnar is just jealous of him.” Teora purposely makes a bad play to keep the game going.

“Ghar isn’t jealous of Aemond.” The princess pointed out.

She thinks herself in love with the boy, had he been anyone else there would be no issues. But he is the son of the queen, therefore their enemy.

Aemond would never betray his family and has not forgiven Rhaenyra nor Luke for his eye. The only reason that loathing does not transfer to Aemma is because he sees her as Laenor’s daughter, not Rhaenyra’s.

Aemma would never betray her mother and she will never forgive Alicent and Otto for all the things they have done to her family.

“Elēnar grew up with Aemond, knows him enough to nap in his room without permission.” She reminded the teenage girl.

Speaking of Ghar, Helaena said he had flown out of the nursery after Aemond and was likely in his rooms.

He should be returning the damn dragon any moment now.

Just what Teora needed, for Aemond to show up and make Aemma think there won’t be other boys after him.

Speaking of the Stranger.

He comes through the secret passageways Aegon a had discovered as a child by bribing the rat catchers with wine.

“Your highness.” Teora curtsied in greeting as Aemma let him in.

“Ghar refused to stop squawking until I returned him to Aemee.” He is not the boy Teora remembered.

The scar made him look older than six and ten and there was so much hatred in the boy who used to blush crimson every time Teora called him a handsome little prince.

“Can you leave us, Teora?” Aemma asks not tearing her eyes off his.

The septa knows no scheme to separate them will ever work.

----

“Your mother took the letters.” There is no preamble. “She admitted it and what is worse she seeks to humiliate me for refusing Stark.”

“No, she would never do that to me.” He shook his head in denial and he began to pace as if arguing with himself on whether to believe her or call her liar.

“She has always hated me, Aemond. She cannot see that I am not my mother and seeks to protect you from me.” Aemma scoffed and pulled her robe tighter to her chest.

But he cannot hear her, her words don’t reach him.

Aemond is consumed by the knowledge that his own mother would violate his privacy or even allow him to be happy with a woman of his choice.

“You don’t understand, my mother has betrayed me! I who have been nothing but dutiful and done everything to make myself worthy of being her son after Aegon proved to be such a disappointment, I who thought she loved me enough to let me marry the girl I love.”

If he wasn’t almost shaking with rage, she would have stopped him and focused on the fact he said the L word.

Love.

“Do you meant that?” she asked breaking him out of his inner turmoil.

“What?” the confusion was clear in his eyes, well, eye. Always so composed and regal and with her he is comfortable to be a mess of emotions.

“That you love me. You said the L word.” Aemma is nervous of saying it out loud, she was afraid of his rejection and always feared writing it on paper because she never felt ready to say it out loud.

She wants to, she wants to shout it from the rooftops like the maidens in the songs and the books, but she would like to know the feeling is mutual first.

“If you had read some of my letters you would know that I can’t pinpoint when exactly my feelings for you began, Aemee.” He gives her a small smile, he and mother were so guarded with their feelings it is no wonder why some think of them as being cold.

“I love you.”

Instead of her heart glowing with joy and warmth ---as her mother explained love felt--- she feels a bitter cold chill.

“Catch me when I fall.” Aemma says just as her legs give out under her, her entire body goes limp like the first time. Why couldn’t it had been just her hands or her arms this time?

This one much like those before it is terrible.

She sees Aemond be stabbed in the eye with Dark Sister as both prince and dragon fall into the God’s Eye as they die in agony.

Her first vision was him losing his eye, now she sees him losing his life.

She can’t speak, can’t make anything come out of her mouth as Aemond shakes her gently and shouts for Teora.

[writingsofwesteros]

Alicent can't help it when she gushes at that remark, blushing brightly and pressing the side of her face against Alannas, whimpering pleas as she cums again. Rhaenyra can't help it when she laughs breathlessly, touching herself against them, watching the scene becoming too much teasing to handle. Alanna finally relents and lets Ali have a break and hide her face in her neck. Rhaenyra slides down beside them, Alanna feels the wetness on her fingers as they graze her back and chuckles before turning her attention to her, moving her own hand down to join Rhaenyras. She doesn't miss the chance to tease her as well, though, and takes great pleasure in watching the possessive fire light in her violet eyes as she looks back out the window and watches Viserys as she utters, "You know, now that I think about it, your father used to be quite taken with me when we were younger Rhae. I had to deny him a few times before he stopped asking after me. Yes, I want him to look up now. I'd like to see him notice you taking me, beloved. What do you think he'd say? To see a woman that denied him, taking his little girl..." Alicent is like a doe watching them, especially when Rhaenyra rumbles at the thought of her father chasing after Alanna, and flips them over, pushing her against the window and biting her hard, drawing blood. Alanna slaps a hand over her mouth to cover her scream, but Rhaenyra has Alicent pull it away and taunts. "Don't hold back. Be good for me, baby." She starts pumping three fingers into her as she talks, not giving her a moment to adjust or breathe between moans, Alicent moves her other hand up and starts pinching her clit. "I want my father to hear your beautiful voice now. You're ours, and no one else can have you. I want you to scream my name, let them all know who's fucking you."

Oh Rhaenyra is so damn possessive and it shouldn't be this hot !

Alicent watching on as her own arousal builds up. Rhaenyra leans in and begins lapping at Alanna's weeping, creamy pussy to feast upon

[starogeorgina]

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬

Pairing: Harwin Strong x Targ oc

Warnings: Character death

3.07

Vaegon’s brows pull together as you walk slowly through the outer yard, your hand resting on your lower back. His eyes are full of concern. Your sons were of an age where they started to understand the dangers of pregnancy and labor but were still too embarrassed to ask you about it.

“My mother used to tell me discomfort is how we serve the realm,” you say softly. “I had no idea what she truly meant until I was pregnant with you and Aerion, but the discomfort is completely normal. It’s just our bodies changing to make room for the baby.”

“Is it painful?”

“It’s nothing for you to worry about, my sweet; besides, it’s completely worth it.” You squeezed his shoulder with your free hand, but Vaegon still didn’t look convinced. “If women didn’t endure childbirth, then we would never have our children, and I would be without the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Feeling light drops of water on your face, you look up. The ride over from Dragonstone has been peaceful, but since you landed, the sky has become much murkier, and the sun is disappearing quickly behind the thick gray clouds.

You glance back at the knight walking not far behind. “You don’t need to come in if you don’t wish to; the meetings can be rather dull.”

“No, I think being the king's cupbearer would be an honor.”

You smile and stroke his cheek. “Very well then.”

Holding your head high, you enter the same room you have been in countless times, yet you feel as if you don’t belong.

—

It was hard for you to read the expressions of the small council members, especially when they seem to be sleeping with their eyes open after rehashing the same issue over and over again. It was clear Alicent was the ruling force during these meetings, and although many times she was right when it came to saving money for the realm, she left no room for negotiation.

You attempt to hide a yawn with the back of your hand, but it is poorly done. Alicent narrows her eyes and asks, “Are the overcrowded cells not enough of a threat to keep you awake, princess?”

“I recall how tired you were towards the end of each pregnancy,” your father chuckles. “As is the case with most women.”

“I say cut their cocks off and be done with it.”

While a few of the lords nodded in agreement, Alicent scoffs, “That is the type of barbaric method I would expect to hear from Daemon.”

“It was Prince Daemon, the former commander of the gold cloaks, who suggested it many years ago; however, since his methods have stopped, the crime level has risen. And I don’t see how permanently taking away the weapon of men who commit the most heinous acts to stop them from repeating them is any more barbaric than cutting the hands of little children who only stole a loaf of bread so that they wouldn’t starve to death.”

Alicent grinds her teeth. “Then please, share what great solution to these problems you have conjured while sitting comfortably upon the throne of Dragonstone.”

“I don’t sit upon the throne; that is my sister’s seat. As will my fathers be one day.” Alicent rolls her eyes, and you tilt your head to look directly at your father, who looked less than impressed. “These men have been charged with being rapists and will remain a threat to the people of King's Land. Give them two options: they can have their cocks cut off and go north, or they can be put to the sword. The night’s watch is always looking for new blood, and the lords of Winterfell will be thankful for the extra men.”

You pause when Vaegon refills Alicent’s cup for her, and her hateful gaze burns into him. When he goes to refill the kings, your father smiles at him and says, “Good lad.”

“As for the children stealing, Lord Lyonel informed me that nearly all of them are from orphanages. If the crown isn’t feeding the poor, then it’s us who have failed.” Alicent opens her mouth to cut in, but you continue before she can. “Princess Rhaenyra has hired a stonemason to build ovens and will have fresh bread made every morning that will be delivered to the orphanages, and whatever is left will be given to the hungry living on the streets.”

“That is the most hono-”

“And how much will this cost the crown?” Alicent asks, cutting the lord who was speaking off.

“It will cost nothing, your grace. The stonemason did it in exchange for his daughter being allowed to assist the dragon keepers in the dragon pit from time to time. She is fascinated by our dragons.”

Alicent raises her eyebrows, challenging you silently.

“It will be the dragon riders on Dragonstone who will fly back and forth to the docks of the keep with the food from the bakery, and hopefully in the future, fresh fruit and vegetables as well.”

“Very well then,” your father smiles. “We will go forth with the ideas Princess Vaella has put forward. What is next?”

“The Stepstones are under threat again, your grace,” Jasper Wylde, master of law, says. “The pirates are taking root, and we must act as a matter of urgency.”

A sense of dread comes over you. “Many good knights died while defeating Craghas Drahar and his army. My king, you cannot allow this to happen again. Seasmoke and Varos are all familiar with the territory; I shall speak to Ser Laenor when I return home, and I will send a raven to my uncle.”

“Would you not fly out, yourself this time, princess?” The maester asks.

“Not while I’m with a child. Vhagar will most likely follow Caraxes, and hopefully the sight of the largest dragon in the world will be enough to sway anyone foolish enough to try and reclaim the stepstones for themselves.”

The council meeting continues until your father eventually ends it, after covering each subject brought up even though he didn’t seem fully satisfied with the solutions. Just as the lords were rising from their seats, a low rumbling came from outside, and a plume of fire was seen above.

“It’s Aegon returning on Sunfyre and Helaena on Dreamfyre!” Vaegon runs to the window and looks up. Excitedly, he asks, “Mother, may I go to the dragon pit?”

You wanted to say yes, knowing how disappointed he was when he never saw the other dragons when you arrived, but you didn’t feel it was safe for him to go alone, and the majority of the knights and you needed to speak to your father. “I’m afraid—”

“Forgive me, princess,” Ser Tyland says. “But I can escort my nephew to the dragonpit. I’ve been dying to see Nightmare and Ashwing.”

Ser Tyland looks genuinely intrigued as he walks to the door with your son. Just as the knight opens the door for them to leave, Alicent takes a gulp of wine and then asks, “Why those names?”

You weren’t sure who the question was directed at, but Vaegon answered. “I cannot recall why my brother chose that name for his dragon, your grace, but I named my dragon Nightmare because of Ser Harwin.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“Ser Harwin?”

“Yes, your grace. My stepfather thought he was having a nightmare when he woke during the night and saw something black moving in my crib. He had never seen a baby dragon before and got a fright.”

You smile at the memory; it was one of the few times you’d ever seen Harwin look terrified. The look on his face when you insisted it was cute watching the dragon sleep beside your son and go back to bed was priceless. To you, it was normal, as you used to sleep with your dragon as a baby, but Harwin wasn’t convinced and spent the full night watching over the cribs, doing the same thing when Ashwing hatched.

The queen gives him a doubtful look. “Ser Harwin just happened to be checking on your nursery during the late hours of the night when your dragon hatched?”

“All my children sleep in my bedchambers until they have grown out of their cribs.” You look past her and smile at your son and Ser Tyland. “You better go now if you wish to catch your uncle and auntie before they leave the dragonpit.”

—

Your father makes small talk while the room is cleared, and when it is empty, he cuts straight to the point. “How are the king's hand and his son-in-law holding up?”

“They are both devastated. And I’m afraid Lord Lyonel might not recover from this, and you may need to find yourself a new hand.”

Visibly upset Your father sighs into his hand. “He is a loyal man, a good hand. Lord Lyonel will be difficult to replace.”

“I hope I’m wrong, and he does recover from this.”

“I thought he was no longer ill. The raven Rhaenyra sent suggested he was on the mend.”

“He is no longer physically ill, but mentally, I see him giving up. I hoped being around Harwin and his granddaughter would give him motivation, but he’s sinking deeper into depression.” You take a deep breath as the feeling of dread returns. “Father I… I saw the fire at Harrenhal in a dream years ago. That's why we never returned.”

His face crinkles with concern. “What? You never told me this before.”

“I saw my husband burning in the flames, screaming for his father. So I forbid Harwin from going back; that is why he and his father changed course and returned to Dragonstone. But the same night I had that vision, I had another. I believe it was a prophecy of some kind; on my Valyrian steel, it was written in our mother tongue that my son would be a bringer of blood and flames. I think there is war upon us.”

“Vaella…”

“I’ve been terrified all these years,” you admit. “I never told Harwin because I didn’t want to burden him; he loves those boys as if they were his own. He would gladly give them his house name. and I just never knew how to tell him. Every time I pray, I pray to see which son it is so I can change it and keep them safe.”

“Do you know when this war will start?”

“No, I don’t. This is why it’s so important that if Lord Lyonel doesn’t return to his post, you seek Corlys Velaryon to be your new hand. He is of our blood. He will help keep my children safe, as well as Jace, Luke, and Joff.”

“I think this is premature.”

You reach for his hand and say, “I believe there are vipers hiding amongst the grass, and we will most likely cut them off at the head before they can spread any more venom.”

“And what poison are you alluding to?”

Tears swell in your eyes; you could see it plain as day written on your father's face that he wants to listen to you. “Do not allow Otto Hightower to return to your council; this I beg of you. We spoke of crimes earlier, yet you haven’t addressed the crime of treason. What of those who call Rhaenyra’s sons bastards?”

He wipes your fallen tears away. “I will cut out the tongue of any man or woman who dares say such a thing.”

—

Walking down towards the dragonpit, you feel deflated, knowing your father was blinded by his devotion to his wife to see how the greens plotted against Rhaenyra. You speed up your steps as you smile politely to the lords and ladies you pass. The knight escorting you insisted you slow down; you just needed to leave the red keep.

When you reach the bottom of the staircase, you see Ser Tyland speaking with some other lords. You were confused as to how they made it to the Hill of Rhaenys and back so fast. “Ser Tyland?”

“Princess,” he says. “Prince Vaegon’s dragon is a lot larger than I believed. It must be true what they say about the magic in Dragonstone.”

“Did you travel to the dragonpit?” You ask, trying to catch sight of Vaegon.

“No, when we went outside to the courtyard, Nightmare was flying overhead, so we watched from there. A rare sight indeed.”

Nightmare usually comes and goes from the dragonpit in Dragonstone whenever she wants, so it was expected she’d do so in the keep. You quickly glance around and ask, “Where is my son?”

“With Prince Aegon. He returned shortly after we went outside and went off with him.”

“I just passed my brother in the hallway; my son was not with him.”

Your heart races as you frantically search for any sign of your missing son. Fear grips you like a vice, making it difficult to breathe as you call out for Vaegon. You rush through the different hallways, ignoring Ser Tyland as he calls after you. You feel this new terror could consume you until you spot the one knight in the keep you truly trust.

“Ser Harrold, Ser Harrold!”

He comes to an abrupt stop, as do the knights following behind him, “princess.”

“My son, Prince Vaegon, is missing.”

“You heard the princess; find the prince.” Ser Harrold waves a couple of ladies over. “See to it the princess is resting until we find the prince.”

—

You pace back and forth; fear and panic have a tight grip on your heart. You would not leave until he was found. Feeling a sudden heaviness, you sit with your head in your hands, rethinking your last conversation with Harwin before you leave.

“Stop,” you giggle, feeling your husband's hands roaming over your body. His hands move from your hips to cup your swollen breasts while kissing the back of your neck. “I’ll be leaving in a few minutes.”

“I can work with that,” he laughs.

“It will take more than ten just to remove my skirts,” you say, spinning around to face him. “I believe you’ll need to until I return, and then we shall have all night.”

“Oh, it shall be a long wait.”

You peck at his lips and say, “But you’ll survive it.”

Since the night you first kissed Harwin, your desire for him has never ceased, nor has his for you. Over the years, you have become more obsessed with each other. Hearing footsteps approaching inside your rooms, you turn to face your son and ask, “Are you ready?”

He nods.

“Have a safe flight.” Harwin kisses you on the cheek, then goes over to Vaegon and pulls him in for a hug. “Be a good lad and look after your mother, eh?”

He nods again, but smiles this time and says, “I will.”

Your sweet, precious boy, you should never have let him out of your sight. You’d never forgive yourself if anything happened to him. When the door opens, your head snaps up and you look at the knight, whose face is still badly swollen and bruised from Harwin. “Ser Criston, has my son been found?”

“The prince has been located; he and princess Helaena are in Godswood.”

Tears fall as you get to your feet. You brush by Criston, and the other knights mumble a thank you before going to the godswood.

—

“My sweet boy!” You kiss your son on the head multiple times, trying your best not to cry again. “God be good; you had me so worried.”

“I’m sorry, mother; Princess Helaena wanted to show me her bug collection.” His eyes were full of regret. “I told Uncle Tyland I was going with her into the godswood; I thought it would be okay.”

Bloody Tyland.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, my sweet,” you sigh. “I just didn’t know where you went and got a fright.”

You look around, surprised that there aren’t any knights nearby. You watch your younger sister, who was happily sitting on the roots of the tree, playing without bugs, and smile softly. “Helaena, don’t you have a sworn protector?”

She doesn’t answer you because she's caught up in what she’s doing. You were desperate to leave, but don’t feel comfortable leaving Helaena alone outside. You place your hand on her shoulder and ask, “Sister, did a knight come out here with you?”

The young girl flinches at your touch. Tilting her head up, she says, “He’ll always fly but never run again.”

“Okay…”

“Three rivers; three dragon heads; weaving the colors of blue, red, green, black, and white. But no, he will never run again.”

—

The adrenaline from fear and panic was still fresh when you stepped into the great hall. Food was still being brought to the high table, and your family was still sitting around it. When you got closer, you noticed Rhaenyra and your cousin's absence. But Jacaerys and Lucerys were sitting with Aerion and Ada.

You motion for your son to go join his siblings, then look to Harwin. “Are my sister and Laenor not joining us?”

Harwin wraps his arms around you in a comforting embrace. He kisses the crown of your bed; his touch offers a small measure of solace amidst the overwhelming feeling that something terrible has happened.

“Harwin?”

He whispers into your ear so that the children don’t hear. “Rhaenyra is trying to console Ser Laenor. A raven arrived from Pentos.”

“Daemon?”

“I’m afraid Lady Laena has died during childbirth.”

[morningdawnbreaks]

The musketeers

Spoilers for seasons 1 and 2

This is one of my favorite shows. I mean it has everything I want in a show: handsome men in uniforms, sword fights, loyal brotherhood, romance, humor, and good overcoming evil.

Athos my poor depressed boy. I love him. I know many fans of the show dislike him for ordering Milady’s death. But I mean what would you do in that situation? If you found out the woman you love had lied to you throughout your marriage and then you find her standing over your brother with a bloody knife in her hand? Would you believe her if she said it was because Thomas was trying to force himself on her? I think Thomas confronted her about her past and was going to go tell Athos and she killed him in a panic. Athos has to order her death for this, but he carries that guilt for years and spends his time off drinking to cover the pain. Thankfully he found his purpose as a musketeer and was able to function through the heartache. He is the one in charge on missions despite the fact that Aramis has been a musketeer longer. Captain Treville trusts Athos as his second in command and eventually makes him the next Captain. He becomes a mentor to D’Artagnan teaching him how to control his temper during a fight and not let his opponent get in his head. His dry humor makes me laugh...And I just think he’s so handsome with his blue eyes, and though his smiles are rare, when he does smile his whole face just lights up. He is best swordsman in the regiment.

Aramis the most handsome and charming. For all his charm with women, he is deeply lonely and longs for a family. He’s been a musketeer the longest of the boys. He was at the massacre of Savoy. He watched 20 of his brothers all die and Marsac abandon him in the snow. He was wounded himself, but survived his wounds. On missions he can be playful, but he knows when to get serious and focus on job. He takes charge on missions when Athos isn’t there. Very flirtatious with the ladies, but sometimes says the wrong thing and gets slapped by Constance. He’s really good with children, helping Agnes get back her baby from the old queen mother and her men. In the episode, Rebellious Woman, my favorite scene is him giving Ninon his cross necklace to comfort her when she is about to be executed. His faith is very important to him and at funerals he is the one to pray or quote scriptures. He is the most skilled as a medic and has sewed up many of Pothos’ wounds. He is willing to give up his life to protect others like when the idiot jumped on a bomb to protect the king, the queen, and the others in the crowd in the episode Slight of Hand. He is best marksmen in the regiment. (Fatal flaw: loving women who are already married or spoken for, which has terrible consequences: Adele is murdered, he and the Queen are almost executed, Margaruite commits suicide.)

Porthos the most protective and caring. He grew up poor in the court of miracles and lost his beloved mother at a young age. Yet he overcame all the obstacles and worked his way up from the regular infantry to be one of the elite musketeers. He can use anything as weapon like when he uses a fork to duel a sword welding red guard and win. He is proficient as a medic and was able to remove the musket ball from Charon after he was shot. He didn’t want to kill Charon even after he betrayed him and was trying to kill him. His love interests, like Flea and the widow Alice, don’t last long as he is a dedicated musketeer who will never be able to give up soldiering. He gives the best bear hugs and has the best laugh. He is the best at hand to hand combat in the regiment.

D’Artagnan the rookie. A skilled sword fighter who can keep up with Athos. His temper at times gets the better of him. He is a loving son devastated by his father’s death and comes to Paris to avenge him. He ends up finding his place as a musketeer. He is mentored by all the boys, but mostly by Athos. He becomes the best of them all through their lessons. He falls in love with Constance and eventually marries her. If anyone harms Constance they better be prepared to die...see Rochefort.

Constance basically the female musketeer. A warrior and fiercely loyal to her friends. Begins the show as the wife of a cold, uncaring man who constantly puts her down and talks down to her. Despite this there is a fire in her just waiting for the opportunity to explode. She meets D’Artagnan when kisses her to hide from his pursuers, she immediately pulls a knife and threatens to gut him like a fish. She goes on to save D’Artagnan’s life in first episode by shooting a man who sneaks up on him in a fight. Later D’Artagnan teaches her to shoot and swordfight and she becomes a master at both. She often slaps Aramis for being cheeky. In season 2, she becomes the Queen’s companion and most loyal friend. She saves baby Louis’ life by taking him to the laundry for the steam to help him breathe and is almost executed for it. She goes with the Queen to Emilie’s camp to protect her. She keeps Aramis and Anne’s relationship a secret even when she is almost beheaded for not confessing it.

King Louis a weak king. He is basically just a puppet king, because his first minister is the one who really runs the kingdom, which causes trouble for Louis later on. He acts like a child often slamming doors and throwing tantrums when things don’t go his way. He finds a way to blame everyone else for all his problems. He makes me laugh with how ignorant and innocent he is at times and most of his lines are just hilarious in general. He does have moments where I start to like him, then he switches back into his rude and ungrateful attitude and then I really just want to reach through the screen and slap him like Constance slaps Aramis.

Queen Anne kind, caring, and compassionate. She truly cares for the people of France and always tries to use her position as Queen to help make their lives better, like pardoning prisoners at Easter, and giving money and food to the poor. She speaks on behalf of Ninon at her trial. She goes to meet the revolutionary leader Emilie in person at her camp to speak about her grievances even though this puts her in grave danger. She is deeply lonely in the palace as her ladies-in-waiting are untrustworthy and her husband neglects her. She finally gets a true friend and confidante in Constance. She falls for Aramis after he saves her life. Her attraction to Aramis is so obvious she practically loses her breath every time he enters the room, but I mean who wouldn’t the man is devastatingly handsome. She is hurt when she sees the cross necklace she gave Aramis around Ninon’s neck. Despite her gentle nature she can be a warrior. When Rochefort assaults her, she uses her hairpin to slice his eye causing him to have to wear an eyepatch for the rest of his life. Some of the French people hate her for being from Spain.

Captain Treville a dedicated captain to the musketeers and fiercely loyal to France. Like a father figure to King Louis and to the musketeers. Has to make hard decisions to secure the kingdom sometimes at the cost of his men...the massacre of savoy. A lot of heartache could have been avoided if he just accepted the position of first minister when the king first offered it; Rochefort never would have gotten so powerful if he had. He eventually becomes first minister of France. Close friend to the Queen.

Cardinal Richelieu the man who really rules France. Hates the musketeers and constantly tries to discredit them. Tries to have the Queen killed after the king laments the fact that she has not produced an heir. Believes his evil is justified since it’s for the good of France. Uses Milady to do his dirty work. The kingdom is left without a strong leader when he dies leaving the door open for Rochefort to take control.

Milady wife of Athos until she murdered his brother. In Season 1 she is an agent of the cardinal. Tries to have Athos killed multiple times for revenge. Frames D’Artagnan for murder. Murders Remey the man who saved her from the noose. Kidnaps Constance and holds her hostage. In Season 2 she is involved in selling men into slavery. Later she becomes the King’s mistress. She does help the musketeers to save the king and the royal household when they are held hostage, and later breaks Aramis out of prison. Despite that I still have a hard time trusting her. She claims to still love Athos asks him to come away with her to start a new life (even though she spent all of season 1 trying to kill him). Her love for luxury makes her do many evil things: example in season 2 she kills a woman to take her silk dress in order to look the part of a courtier to gain entry to the palace. (which didn’t make sense to me because she knew where all the secret passageways in the palace were from working with the cardinal and what happened to all the pretty dresses she had in season 1)

Rochefort evil, evil, evil! Former tutor to Queen Anne to teach her of France before her marriage. He worked for the cardinal as a spy in Spain. He was caught and the cardinal allowed him to be held hostage and tortured for years. Agrees to be an agent of Spain in order to return to France. Obsessed with Queen Anne and willing to do anything to have her. He gains the King’s trust and becomes the first minister. Assaults the Queen in her bedchamber. Blackmails Marguerite. Poisons the king. Was very, very close to taking the kingdom. About to strangle Anne to death after she refused him until Constance and Aramis burst in the door and Aramis once again saves the Queen. Finally taken down in a team effort by our favorite musketeers in very intense fight with D’Artagnan making the final strike with sparking fury into his heart then he slumps to the ground and dies.

***There is a reason the Bible says, Thou shalt not commit adultery. It harms not only the marriage, but the children, and everyone else involved. Aramis and Anne, as much as I love them and think they are a cute couple, by having their affair and their son as a result, gave Rochefort the perfect ammunition to twist the king’s mind against the Queen and his musketeers. So many people were affected: Doctor Lemey was beheaded, Constance was nearly beheaded, Marguerite killed herself, and Aramis and Anne themselves were almost executed. It made good drama for the show and the last two episodes of season 2 had me on the edge of my seat, but it would have been better for everyone if they hadn’t crossed that line.

[thenerdthatwrites]

Chapter Synopsis; After the inconveniences of the ball, Kaitlyn tells heer  Father about what happened.

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16 / part 17 / part 18 / part 19 / part 20 / part 21 / part 22 / part 23 / part 24 / part 25 / part 26 / part 27 / part 28 / part ...

Story Masterlist

Words; 1,558

The Truth Comes Out

21st June

After a few days of solitude in my secret to the rest of the world, a few days later I told Alice what had happened at the ball. I hypothesised beforehand that she would go crazy, figuring that to start with, I would become pregnant in less than a year and secondly, Father would die. 

My hypothesis was - to my little surprise - correct.

“Alice, are you even taking in the fact that Father will die and I have to rule the kingdom in less than a year?” I say a confused look on my face as Alice was smiling, dancing and skipping around my room.

“Yes, but that means that you will marry Jameson, yes? I want to be an Aunt and a sister-in-law to Jameson. From what I’ve met of the men that Father has picked that he would allow you to marry, they are all pompous bloody wankers who don’t give two stuffs about that they’d be King Consort with no power over the decisions made in this kingdom. The best idea Father has had was Xander, but he wouldn’t want to get rid of what would presumably become your guard of honour,” Alice says, plonking down next to me as I sat there, staring into nothingness.

“I didn’t know he would have approved of Xander. If so, I would’ve hatched a plan last month on how I could hide a marriage from the kingdom, while showing a relationship between friends, not lovers. I could start planning now at least though,” I reply, turning to Alice with a thankful look on my face.

“Well, Father could see you looked like you would break into anaphylactic shock if you even came close to some of them, so realised he would need to be a bit more open with his choices. He did though state at the same time that village boys were still out of the question. If you haven’t found anyone to marry by the time he passes, then you will be allowed to pick anyone you wish, but that will be a last resort, and he will turn in his grave,” Alice said, a small smile on her face as I got up from my bed, walked over to the desk in the corner and started to plot how I could potentially hide a whole marriage.

“What are you doing now?” She asks from behind me as I sit and think how I would do it.

“Starting to plot how to hide a marriage and fake a supposed real one,” I reply, a dead serious look setting itself on my face nicely as I thought.

“Of course you are. Why should I expect no less?” Alice says and walks over to me before continuing with the earlier topic of children “So, have you thought of any baby names yet? You know you will have to start in less than a year,”

I groan before turning to look at her. Was Alice serious? In my imagination, I was hoping she wasn't, but in reality, I knew she was being serious, meaning I needed to tell Father about his nearing death date. I really didn’t want to.

All of a sudden though, I hear a tapping sound at my window. I look up and see Alice over at my bookcase and looking round to see what the noise was as well, so I was confused as to where the tapping was coming from. I slowly got up and walked over to the door that led to my balcony, just to see small pebbles being thrown at it. I thought it was strange at first to see pebbles being thrown at a door so high up, but when I look down, I could see Jameson lining up his next shot, clearly trying to get my attention and making a small pile of pebbles outside my door.

“What are you doing!?” I shout down to the blonde-haired boy.

“Trying to get your attention! Clearly, it worked!” He shouts back up as I giggle “How are you feeling!?” He asks.

“I’m doing okay, and before you ask, no, I haven’t told my Father yet!” I shout back down in reply to his question.

“You know you need to tell him!” Jameson shouts back up as I roll my eyes at his antics.

“I know, but I think it’s unfair to tell him his life will be cut short soon!” I replied looking down at the vines growing up the side of the Castle.

“Then someone can accompany you! Maybe Xander since he was there the night you heard them!?”

With a statement like that, I wonder how I ended up with Jameson in the first place.

“Fine!” I shout down and I watch as Jameson does a little happy dance, gives a thumbs up and a kiss before jogging away, satchel beside him bouncing up and down like I knew he would when he got home, happy that I had decided to tell Father about the voices.

I turned and walked back inside, making sure most of the pebbles went back to their home first, mind you, but going back inside still and walked over to the door and out of it to find Xander with his hand, almost on the doorknob, ready to fling my door open.

“Hello?” I question as Xander stands there, patting himself down before speaking.

“Are your voices evolving or something?” Xander asks, a mildly scared look on his face.

“Not that I last checked no, I was just leaving the room to try and find you anyway,” I say as I grab Xander’s hand and start walking towards one of Father’s many studies in the Castle.

“And why may that be?” Xander asks as I drag him through the long hallways.

“Well, it is because I am going to tell Father about what the voices were saying at the ball,” I say quickly as I continue to walk, but as I try, Xander slows to a halt, stopping my fast pace and train of thought in the meantime.

“You’re going to tell him?” Xander asks me with a look I was dying to laugh at for all of eternity.

“Yes, now are we going to stand here and let me die of laughter on the inside from your face or are we-” I start to say, but don’t quite finish as Xander whisks me back into a fast pace of walking towards the study I was aiming to head for.

“Then come on, I want you to say something!” Xander says as I let out a laugh at his eagerness for me to admit the secret I had been keeping for a small matter of days.

{----------}

When we finally get to the study and burst through the doors, I see my Father sitting at his desk, brooding over some paper that, in my view of the world, was not as important.

“Your Majesty,” Xander says quickly, before I step forward and sit in front of him, a tentative look on my face as I prepare to share the news I bore.

“Mr Evermore. Kaitlyn. Please excuse my confusion, but why are you two bursting into my study, with certainly what I would call ‘looks’ on your faces?” Father says as he sticks down his pen and reading glasses as I prepare myself to tell him the news that would change what he had planned for the next year at least.

“There were new voices at the ball,” I say, trying to control the tightness in my chest that was slowly growing with every breath. 

“What did they say?” Father questions, a concerned but saddened look growing on his face when I looked up at him.

“They were giving me a warning. They said I only had months before I was supposed to rule,” I say and watch as Father’s face drops at my words just like mine did on the night of the ball.

“When did it happen?” He questions looking between Xander and me.

“When we were walking down the stairs, sir. From what I could see, they hadn’t been going on long. Long enough though, that it was starting to become painful,” Xander’s voice said from behind me.

“Alright then. I’m not mad you haven’t told me sooner. You wanted me to live not in fear that the next day would be my last,” Father says as I breathe in deeply before speaking again.

“I was also scared about how you would react to the news,” I say and sniffle as I do so.

“My daughter, I would be no less worried about anything the future brings for you, your spouse, your child and every other person important enough to be special in your life if I had five days left to live, or five years,” Father says, lifting my head so I could look at him. 

“You're my daughter and heir to the throne, who in my imagination, is destined for greatness. It may not always seem like it, but I love you Kaitlyn Elizabeth Lysandral, my eldest daughter and heir to the throne. A wonderful girl, who is destined to do wonderful things.”

I smiled at Father before turning back to Xander where he gave me a reassuring smile. The kind of smile that says ‘I love you’ without ever even saying it.

“I love you too, Father.” 

That was all I said before hugging him while it still felt right.

[writing-for-marvel]

hi cutie! congrats on the milestone! i am so happy for you my dear! what about #36, Hat, Scarf and Mittens with Bucky?

Thank you so much Alice 💖

For my 500 follower + Holiday celebration

Bucky Barnes + Hat, Scarf and Mittens

This is the unofficial second part to this holiday drabble, but you can read the drabble by itself as well

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

“Hats?”

“Check.”

“Scarves?”

“Check!”

“Mittens?”

“I knew I forgot something!” Your eldest daughter yelled as she ran scrambling back to her room. She most definitely inherited her horrid short term memory from her father.

“No one leaves without all three.” Bucky mimicked your words from earlier that morning to your youngest who was rugged up in his arms.

“We can’t afford for anyone to get hypothermia in this weather.” You mentioned pulling down the beanie your youngest was wearing so that it completely covered her ears, beaming down at her as she gave you a cheeky smile, laughing at the funny big word.

“Ice skate! Ice skate!” She chanted, quickly becoming impatient, squirming in Bucky’s arms, trying to pull him even a fraction closer to your front door.

“Mittens? Check!” Your eldest daughter scurried back into the hallway, mittens pulled onto her small hands, giving herself a self-five.

“Mama bear satisfied?” Bucky asked, shooting you a smirk which had the same curve as the grin your daughter in his arms had given you a moment ago. You adored the nickname he had bestowed on you, it was yet another reminder you and him created the two most perfect angels in the world.

“Mommy, time to go!” Your youngest interrupted your thoughts, all three of them looking at you expectantly.

“Alright munchkins, time to skate!”

The girls were bouncing off the walls that entire morning, but that energy was nothing compared to once you left the house. On the way to the rink, Bucky occasionally teased them by stopping to bend down and do up the laces on his boots, which was only met with impatient whines from the girls who most definitely didn’t find his ruses funny.

Once at the rink, you took your youngest to the sectioned off corner where the small children could skate without getting trampled on, whilst Bucky took your eldest to the main section of the rink.

Neither had skated before, and was probably the reasoning behind why they were so excited earlier in the day - but that excited energy, along with the effort her chubby little legs exerted in keeping her upright in the skates, soon meant your youngest crashed into a nap in your arms.

You weren’t sure if she would be able to remember this day verbatim when she was older, but you hoped that she would at least be able to recall the exhilaration she felt before her first time on the ice.

Walking around along the side of the rink, you watched as Bucky held your eldest’s hand as she shuffled along the ice. She wasn’t yet able to glide elegantly as the experienced skaters, but you couldn’t help but smile at the sight. The love of you life and the life your love created having an absolute ball, your daughter holding onto her father for dear life but with the largest smile on her face.

“Mommy, did you see? Did you see?” Your eldest asked frantically as Bucky helped steer her towards the edge of the rink where you were standing.

“I did baby, you were fantastic! Might be a professional figure skater when you grow up!” The elation in her eyes at your words made every difficult day as a parent worth it. Standing tall and proud beside her was Bucky, whose burly frame contrasted the soft look in his eye as he gazed at your youngest sleeping in your arms.

“C’mon, we need to get your sister home - she’s absolutely exhausted.” You said after taking just one moment longer to appreciate Bucky’s loving stare.

“Oh, one more lap, please Mommy?” She begged, sticking her bottom lip out in an adorable pout.

“Okay baby, one more lap.” You weren’t sure you could ever say no to her.

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[missymurphy1985]

The Mistake- Part 13 (Cillian Murphy X fem!reader)

Warning - smut

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @peakyciills @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @peaky-cillian @misselsbells06 @datewithgianni @heidimoreton @jardinsecos @bitchwhytho @gypsy-girl-08 @queenofkings1212

Sleepless nights, dirty nappies, colic, trapped wind, and cuddles.

That was how you remembered the last three months. Everything else was a blur. But he was more settled now, sleeping longer at night, and you could see his personality starting to come through.

Aidan was now 14 weeks old, and your sister had given birth to your nephew 6 weeks ago. Little Ciaran Padraig Murphy was as adorable as Aidan, with the same little button nose their fathers shared, and the same eyes. They could have been brothers, and you absolutely adored him.

Your life had changed so much in such a short space of time, and with Cillian's help it had become your new normal. A normal that felt right. Not perfect - you still had moments when you missed your life before, but Alice had reassured you that was normal and to be expected, especially with the shock of everything.

Cillian had taken Aidan that morning after his run so you could grab a couple of hours sleep, and he was sat in the living room with Aidan on his lap stroking his little face with the lunchtime news on when you came into the room.

"Hey mama. Sleep okay?"

"Yes, thank you. How's he doing?" You asked, putting the kettle on.

"Managed to get some more wind out of him when you went to bed, then he shit all over my t-shirt," he smiled.

You couldn't help but laugh, then noticed he wasn't wearing a t-shirt. And just his tight, dark blue jeans. His hair growing longer, flopping over his eyes as he swayed his son gently on his lap. And you swore he had never looked sexier. Neither of you had slept in the same bed long enough to be intimate since you'd been given the all clear 6 weeks ago, and it was fair to say you missed his touch.

Aidan must have sensed you as he started to stir.

"Hey little man - you hungry?" Cillian lifted him up onto his chest and carried him over to you. Handing you the wriggly little bundle, he took a pre-made bottle out of the fridge and dropped it in a jug of hot water to warm through. He leaned in and kissed you gently while it warmed, stroking your hair.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay. It's still taking some getting used to, but at least I don't have to worry about work now." Your closest colleague, Erin, was running the practice for you while you were on maternity leave. She'd been with you since the day you opened it, and knew the business inside out. You knew it was in safe hands, and she always kept you up to date with everything.

He kissed you again and took the bottle, tested a squirt of it on his forearm before taking Aidan from you.

"Go get showered and dressed, I'll feed him. I'm taking my little family out for the day."

You went to protest, wanting to give him a break, but he raised his eyebrow at you and you knew it was pointless. Kissing Aidan's head gently, you went back into your room to get yourself ready. A day out sounded perfect - you hadn't ventured further than the park so far.

************************************************************

Aidan slept soundly in his car seat in the back, you next to him, while Cillian drove. He'd upgraded his mini to a Range Rover shortly after Aidan was born, and as much as you loved that little red speed machine, it wasn't the most practical vehicle for a baby.

You glanced out of the window as you felt the car slow down and turn. You could see the Irish Sea in front of you, the Cork coastline and the horizon with fishing boats bobbing in the gentle waves. Bit cold for the beach, you thought, looking at the greying skies overhead. He parked up on the road and climbed out, grabbing the pushchair from the boot.

Clipping Aidan's seat into the pushchair like an absolute pro, you pushed him along, smiling as he took your hand, entwining his fingers with yours as you guided the stroller with the other. You could see people glancing at you both, clearly recognising Cillian, and you revelled in how much he just didn't care. He didn't care who saw him with you, or Aidan. Even when some tourists took photos on their phones, he never batted an eyelid.

"Right, I need you to do two things for me," he said, suddenly stopping you after you'd been walking for around ten minutes.

"I birthed your son, I think my obligations are done for a while surely?" You smirked, earning you a playful nudge from him.

"Very funny. First thing - don't be mad."

"Not a good start..."

"Shut up."

"You're not helping your case Murphy."

"Okay okay, second thing - close your eyes."

You were hesitant, that much was certain. But you did as he said and closed your eyes. You felt yourself being guided, trying not to laugh at him trying to guide both you and the pushchair, hearing him stumble every now and again. You were definitely googling him later, praying those tourists were still taking those photos.

"Okay, you can open your eyes."

You opened your eyes and looked around, confused. What was he doing?

He rolled his eyes and guided your head to just over his shoulder. A three storey townhouse, with huge gates and a massive driveway stood before you.

"It's a house."

"It's our house."

"I'm sorry, what now?"

"I bought it three weeks ago. I've had renovators in, fixing it up. It's old as fuck, needed a lot of work doing to it, but it'll be ready in a week."

"Hold on, rewind, what?"

"I bought us a house."

You didn't have the words. There were no words. This felt surreal... You physically pinched yourself, swearing under your breath when you pinched too hard.

"You don't like it...?"

"Cillian... It's... Oh my god!" You grinned, and almost screamed, nearly waking Aidan in the process who grizzled unhappily in his slumber.

"Oh thank fuck for that, you looked like you wanted to strangle me..."

"When? How? Why?"

"I'm fairly sure I've answered those, but, in order... Three weeks ago. With the money from my house sale in London. And... because I love you."

You froze. Your heart racing. Your eyes on his.

"You.. love me?"

"I've never loved anyone more than I love you. You gave me the most precious thing in the world. I've known you all my life, and my life is all the better for it. You told me once you dreamed of living on the coast. Waking up to the sea air every day. Walks along the beach at night. A sea view when you drink your coffee in the morning. This was the closest thing I could find without leaving Cork."

"You did this for me?"

"I did this for us. You, me and Aidan. You're still driving distance to work when you decide to go back. The school here is one of the best in Cork. There's a gorgeous park a mile away, the beach is a five minute walk away."

"I can't believe it..."

He took a set of keys out of his pocket and grinned. You grabbed them and ran to the house, hearing him laughing at you as you unlocked the door and went inside. He followed with Aidan, still sparked out.

Looking around the house, you couldn't believe it. The interior needed a lick of paint, which was being taken care of next week, Cillian said, once you'd decided on the colours. You stood in the brand new fully fitted kitchen and could have cried.

"You're not paying for the mortgage on your own, I pay my own way too Cill."

He mumbled something you didn't quite catch, and he smirked at you. Probably for the best you didn't hear it based on that smirk...

You quickly checked on Aidan, snoring away like his father, and turned to Cillian, biting your lip.

"So this is all ours, right now?"

"Yep."

You wandered over to him, and pressed your body as close as you could to his, backing him up against the kitchen counter.

"How could I possibly show you my gratitude?"

"Oh I'm sure you can think of something..."

You sank to your knees, and pulled his jeans down low enough for his cock to spring forward, already at full mast, standing proudly in front of you.

Without saying a word, you clamped your mouth over him, taking him as far down your throat as you could. The quiet groan from above you made your thighs clench together as your mouth bobbed over his length in earnest, conscious you probably didn't have much time.

His hands tangled into your hair, his hips thrusting forwards to meet your mouth as it licked around the tip before sinking back over, sucking against his hard length as it swelled between your lips.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." He kept his voice low, almost a whisper. You took his balls in one of your hands and squeezed them gently, feeling them tighten between hour fingers. Your other hand raked it's nails along his thigh, sending visible shivers through him, making him hiss above you.

"I'm not gonna last..." He gasped, panting.

You increased the speed and suction, your nails scraping along his balls, your other hand coming in to pump the base of his cock while your mouth focused on the top half of his shaft. Your tongue circling the tip as your mouth moved, sucking in your cheeks. His hands moved to the countertop now, gripping against it as you felt him begin to shake, whispering and groaning.

"That's it, that's it, holy fuck... Your mouth... So good... That's... That's fucking it, y/n... Oh...." You looked up as saw his eyes scrunch closed, his lips lock together to contain his moans as he released ropes of warm cum into your mouth. His hand moved to the back of your head, pulling it back. You held your mouth open to catch the spurts on your tongue, your hand still pumping at his shaft to empty him completely.

You swallowed every drop, wiping some off your chin and licking it slowly off your finger. Standing up, giving his cock a gentle squeeze making his legs buckle, you kissed him. A deep kiss, knowing he could taste himself, but the ferocity of his kiss in return told you he gave zero fucks about it.

Aidan grizzling in the pushchair halted any further activity, making you both groan, resting your foreheads together and laughing a little.

"Before we head back, one more thing." You said, stroking his cheek and nudging the tip of his nose with yours.

"What's that?"

"I love you, too."