Welcome to my blog. Thank you for checking it out or hello to you if you randomly stumbled onto it. I'm Ally (or sly, as I use for tags). I'm a writer and an artist, but foremost I am also a consumer. So while I write and paint and post, I also reblog and share and comment.
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I don't write smut, however, I sometimes reblog it and there are other themes on my blog that could be otherwise only meant for adults. Thus my blog is 18+/FSK18.
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Current/Ongoing series & newest posts: Happy Father's Day (series),; My Kingdom, Your Kingdom (series, Steve Rogers x heir-apparent!Reader), Drabbles & Blurbs, Legacies (Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Kazansky!OC), What A Shirt Can Tell (Colin Shea x Reader)
Imagine Baelor with a warrior woman reader who fights along side him in battle.
He’s unsure. Not because he doesn’t respect female fighters, or because he doesn’t recognize your prowess with a sword and bow, he knows that you are just as capable as any man, if not more so, but he’s protective, and he would never forgive himself if you were harmed in a battle he allowed you to join.
But you were adamant. Having personal stakes in the war’s outcome, you refused to sit aside and allow thousands of men to put their lives on the line while you sat pampered in a castle. Bealor heard your demands and recognized that you were not asking his permission, you fully intended to fight no matter what he said. So you marched along side him. At least if you remained by his side he could keep you safe.
During the march, you kept pace with Baelor’s men. You treated them as comrades, training together, sparing in the mud, and gladly eating the small rations of salt beef and hard bread while insisting your portions of fine foods, that had been brought for the highborn commanders, be given to the exceptionally young or exceptionally old who struggled to keep up.
It was a noble gesture, but Baelor could hear your stomach growling with hunger. He tried to offer you his portions of food, but you always refused.
And that wasn’t the strangest part. One of the few things you did alone was undressing. It made some sense, as you were the only woman in the camp, it was fair that you did not wish to undress in front of a pack of hungry drooling hounds. Baelor didn’t want them ogling you either, but what he didn’t understand was why he was not allowed to see you undress. He had offered time and time again to help with your armor but you turned him away every time. He had seen all of you, why were you suddenly hiding your body from him? You wouldn’t even share his tent.
He couldn’t make sense of it, until he walked into your tent unannounced and interrupted you as you removed your plackart…
… revealing the faint rounded swell of your pregnant belly.
Protective Baelor? Hell yes. I love the premise of this. A warrior woman at his side, I can totally picture this. She'd be a total badass! I just knew the reveal would be pregnancy the minute she refused to undress before him. Oh my oh my, would he put his foot down and forbid her from continuing to fight? Gosh this is seriously such a interesting premise, I need this as a fic, that would be so so good
A fight with your husband, in the unconventional sense. In which he learns he rather likes hunting his wife like prey.
word count: 2,805
cw: 18+ mdni, pure fluff, ooc aerion, consented biting + smacking, this is just pure fluff, sexual themes, aerion with a goatee and moustache bc i said so, characters are adults always - YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT AND MEDIA THAT YOU CHOOSE TO CONSUME
Summerhall was deserted to say the least. Maekar was handling business out in Kings Landing, Daeron was out whoring in the nearby tavern town, Egg was squiring for a Ser Duncan out in the middle of god knows where, and the only staff of Summerhall had been since abed for many hours.
You were sat in your husband’s lap, in the armchair by the fire, wearing one of his tunic’s for your own comfort. Aerion was shirtless, seeing as you had in fact stolen the tunic he had previously been wearing when you returned from your bath. You were forcing him to read to you, much to his feigned annoyance. Valyrian history. He could have told you off of the top of his head, however he had bias towards certain figures in his lineage, you preferred to determine your own mind.
“So if Rhaenyra’s son wed Aegon’s only daughter neither of them truly won the dance.” You stated.
“Rhaenyra won the dance because Aegon’s only daughter threw herself from her bedchamber window at ten. Aegon the younger went on to marry again, proving Rhaenyra to be the winner of the dance.” He explained, why didn’t you already know this.
“But her sons were bastards, you hate bastards.”
“How many times must it be explained to you, the bastards did not continue the lineage, her trueborn sons from Daemon Targaryen did.”
“Oh. Right.” You nodded, Targaryens and their bloody incest. “Do you believe Aegon was right to usurp her for being male.” You questioned, it was certainly a unique situation wrapped in a wreath of an overlapping familial tree.
“If I was born at the time perhaps, but I am a descendant of Rhaenyra’s. Therefore in this day I would support her claim. The bastardy would make it difficult I do admit, but I would not be alive without it in the end.” He went silent for a moment before smirking, head shaking. “I’m lying. If I was alive at the time and wrapped up in a dance already so chaotic, with a dragon also. I’d declare myself king against them all. I wouldn’t care that Rhaenyra’s a woman going for the throne, or Aegon a drunkard who was the trueborn son. They’re equals against me. If we’re already fighting I am fighting for no one but my own claim. I’d be damned to end up like Aemond Targaryen. He had the biggest dragon and the second claim after Aegon’s heir. I would have gone for it, no lying in wait.”
“You worry me sometimes.” You muttered, rolling your eyes. Of course he’d fight for no one but himself, he’d proven that in the trial of seven. He was lucky all of his kin emerged virtually unscathed. He had taken the worst of it, at least Daeron had the wits about him to play dead. In truth your husband was lucky to have not ended up exiled, you had begged Maekar to keep him in Summerhall and keep all else away. For some mad reason Maekar had complied, but you were grateful nonetheless. If you were Aerion’s father you would have sent him away years ago, but that’s neither here nor there. “I’m tired, let’s go to bed”.
“You just don’t want to hear my thoughts.”
“Because they sound awfully close to treason and you’ve already upset the masses by your actions at that tourney three moons ago.” You scolded, rising from his lap only for his hand to clamp around your thigh.
“Yes well, that oaf had it coming.” He scowled.
“You lost? If anyone had it coming it was you!” His hands grasped your waist, book dropping to the floor as he did so. His fingers dug into your sides before he begun tickling you, “I had it coming did I wife? I had it coming?” You fought to get out of his grip, childish giggles escaping you as you managed to escape to the sanctuary of your bed, but he was just as quick. “No come on, look at me and say it.” He teased, you could see the smile on his face. Nobody dared face the dragon, or they shouldn’t anyway. That’s what he believed. But sometimes it felt good to give it back to him, especially when you knew he had a lot of hate in his heart, but not enough to ever hurt you. You grounded him, as Maekar liked to say. Not overly, but just enough to remind him he was not in fact a dragon, and yes he was a prince but he could not just do as he pleased. His morals were certainly lacking but he was definitely improving? You hoped anyway.
He pinned you by your arms either side of your head. “No come on look at me, I want to hear you say it. I had it coming come on. You were so brave a moment ago.” The stubble of his goatee tickled your cheek before his teeth grazed the soft skin.
“You had it coming.” You maintained eye contact, watching as his brows furrowed before his hand collided with the fat of your ass in a firm smack.
“Go on, say it again.” He encouraged, pupils blown as a grin replaced his growing scowl.
You managed to kick his thigh, just enough to push him back before crawling up the bed and rising to your knees. You grabbed a pillow as supple protection. “You’ll need a better shield than feathers my little dragon.” He teased, circling round the bed as you dove back to the other side.
You threw the pillow at him, only for him to launch it straight back at you, using your distraction to circle his way back round until you felt his chest pressed against your back. You looked up at him and smiled, he raised an eyebrow looking back down at you before forcing you down onto your stomach, pressing himself overtop of you. “Come on, fight harder than that.”
“Ugh! You’re heavy how am I supposed to fight you, you’ve never taught me how to fight nobody has!” You whined, on instinct you probably would have thrown out your limbs in hope of getting a good shot then running, but you didn’t exactly want to bruise up your husband, not when he had just best healed.
His forearm found place under your chin, you tilted your head down and tucked your nose in the crook of his elbow before biting down. He let out an almost yelp of surprise before retracting his arm as you moved off of the bed the other side. You beamed proudly as he stared at his teeth marks, little red crescents that you had left indented into his forearm. “A parting gift!” You smiled. Even he had not seen you, or more specifically your teeth, coming.
“A parting gift?” He questioned, rubbing the skin before accepting the fact he was going to have a bruise in the shape of your teeth for the next week or so. “Are you planning on deserting me?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“If you’ll let me win.”
He chuckled softly, “Wife, I am not going to let you win just so that you remain satisfied. You’ll get much truer satisfaction out of actually beating me.”
You groaned in annoyance, nothing could ever just be a game to him. You sat on the bed, a stupid mistake, for he lunged and grabbed your ankle, pulling you until you were splayed underneath him. Oh fuck escaped your lips before you even realised you had said it. He forced two fingers into your mouth, flat against your tongue. “Ladies do not swear, foul language is unbefitting of them. Isn’t it?” He lectured, his deep eyes boring into your own as they narrowed back at him. You bit down until he retracted them from between your lips, “What is it with you and your fucking teeth!”
“It’s not as pleasant when you receive it, is it husband.” You smirked, he was more than fond of using his teeth on you. It marked you as his, though you had never truly been bold enough to mark him back. But there was a first for everything.
“We’ll call it a draw.”
“A draw is a joint loss.” You protested, but another firm smack to your bare ass had you nodding rapidly “A draw it is.”
Once you were sensibly cuddled up under the covers, his lips at your ear he spoke softly, “I’m going to hope for my own peace of mind that you’d have better tactics if I were an intruder.”
You chuckled softly, his lips finding your cheek before trailing down to your collarbone. His teeth sank into the firm skin, leaving a mark you knew would not leave for some time.
What had begun as a one off play fight, had quickly developed into a growing game of a dragon versus his prey. Guess which one you were.
You were walking the corridors back from the gardens, unusually late yes, but Summerhall had an exceptional view of the moon on the odd occasion, and you didn’t feel like missing it. You were admiring the walls and the tapestries that lined the place, many replicating Starfall, the house of Aerion’s mother. You knew she had spent years adding her own custom to the place and it was truly so beautiful, to have such enamouring representation of two adjoining houses under one perfect roof.
You were grabbed, forced against the wall chest first, you shouted in surprise only to smell your husband behind you. The scent of him was intoxicating, “Wife.”
“Why would you do such a thing!” You shouted, attempting to push back from the wall yet he only sunk you into it further.
“Did I scare you?” He smiled, teeth finding your earlobe gently.
“Of course you scared me!”
“Hm. You should pay better attention to your surroundings shouldn’t you, my flame.”
“We are in your bloody house no one is coming to attack me in here!”
“You never know, I have a lot of enemies.”
“Well you didn’t need to tell me what I already knew-” You yelped as his hand made contact with your ass firmly, yet again. You stepped on his toes, literally not figuratively, his surprise and slight annoyance at the crushing of his digits allowed you to sprint free down the corridor. You knew that he was coming, you could feel the vibrations from his footfall some paces behind you.
You ran down the corridors, shortening several down other doors and pathways until you were certain you had lost your husband. You checked behind you once more as you walked through an archway only to walk firmly into the chest of your husband. You gasped in surprise, victorious smirk leaving your face, only to be replaced by a pout of annoyance. “Mhm. Think yourself clever?” He tutted, backing you against the wall. The corridor was rarely used, staff were not permitted to walk it and the house was presently deserted outside of the pair of you. His lips found your neck in a mix of flurried kisses and bites, so closely wound together you could not distinguish one affection from the other. You pushed at his chin, cupping his face whilst still trying to detach his mouth from you, but Aerion was relentless.
“Wife.” He whined, glaring at you as his hands pushed you back. This was his new little game, stalk you, hunt you like prey, only once he finally had you in his clutches he’d attack you with his mouth until he felt satisfied he was full. He was a gluttonous being, he never did truly know full.
He just wanted your attention, your affection, like some bratty, spoiled, prince. Oh wait.
He wanted his lips practically sealed to you, any part of you. He wanted to kiss and lick and worship, even suckle at you if he could get away with it, he practically fed off of you. And gods forbid you turn him away, accidentally push his hands from you in the night. It was a personal offence, your instinct is rejection, he would murmur, before pulling you impossibly close once again. Not only did your husband snore, he also ran uncomfortably warm, so yes sometimes in the night you did fight for breath away from the ever climbing furnace that was his body - could you truly take blame for that? Because Aerion certainly believed you could.
“Why do you push me away? Hm?” He questioned, licking a stripe up the curve from your collarbone to your jaw. You grimaced at the wet sensation and fought to remove his lips from you, “I do not push you away, in order to keep you contended you would want to crawl inside of my being.”
“Well if that is on the cards-”
“No!”
He chuckled softly, his lips leaving bruising marks in their wake as you yanked the hair at the nape of his neck, “keep trying it, go on.” He murmured, not in the slightest affected by your pulling, it was attention all the same. You stopped upon realising he was getting off on it, only for the whining brat to return “well don’t stop.”
“You can’t stalk me like prey.” You glared, pulling his head so his eyes would meet yours.
“Why not? I’m having fun and I am harming nobody to get pleasure, you should be contented if anything.” His fingers dug into your sides causing you to jolt and swat away his palms at the intrusion, he only smiled. “Tell you what, I’ll give you a head start.” He squeezed your thigh softly before moving out of the way. You stared at him confused for a moment before taking off down the corridor, he let you leave his view for scarcely a few seconds before he bolted after you.
You had successfully made it into your bedchamber and onto the bed, on your knees, full intent to dive away from any attack he gave. Upon his entry he paused. His face was calculating, he could dive on top of you, but then the game was over all-too quickly. Instead he stared at you, eyes narrowed, before circling round the bed. He took your distraction of you grabbing a pillow- what on earth did she think that was going to do, he thought, shaking his head lightly with a quiet chuckle.
He dove from behind, an arm under your chin. You bit down on the muscle causing him to tense before pinning you flat on your stomach. “One day my little dragon you are going to leave a scar. And people will ask me if it’s from some great battle, and I’ll have to admit, no, my wife just likes biting me.”
You giggled before trying to pry yourself from his grip but to no avail, “You started this biting! I am merely joining in.”
He chuckled, “oh really? Just joining in hm?”
You tried to wriggle free once again, he didn’t look it but he was certainly heavy.
“Still winning?”
“Yes.”
“Really? Because to me it looks as though I am on top.” You fought to break free again before his taunting begun yet again, “come on, admit it. I’m winning.”
The door swung open, a sopping wet prince Maekar entered before stopping still in utter confusion.
“Father, we were not expecting you.” Aerion did not budge, he remained firm in holding you still.
“I am not even going to ask.” To say Maekar looked disgusted would be the least, he knew his son was likely rough in ways he did not wish to know of but to witness the pre-act? Vile.
Aerion ignored his father’s utter distain, “Now if you were to look at our current predicament who would you say is winning?” he questioned.
“Well you, you are on top.” Maekar nodded.
“See even he agrees with me!” Aerion removed an arm to point in his father’s direction, you instead elbowed him in his now exposed ribs. Aerion fell backwards into a heap on the floor as you rose to your knees in victory, “I win!”
Maekar couldn’t help but smile at the sight, even if it was technically at his son’s expense. “I’ll leave you to, whatever the fuck you call this.”
“A fight that I just won, you mean.” You beamed proudly as Maekar murmured in agreement, before exiting. Despite the door shutting firmly you were both graced by the sound of his laughter as he made his way to his own bedchambers, echoing down the halls.
“That was a foul it doesn’t count!” Aerion announced, regaining his composure to stand next to the bed.
“You can’t say it’s a foul just because you didn’t win!”
“Of course I can, my game, my wife, my rules.”
A/N: feeding all our delusions because let’s be real, he’d kick our ass and not even be sorry about it
as always: likes, comments, reblogs + any interactions at all are always always appreciated - take care everyone!!
DISCLAIMER: All themes, plot, images used in general and characters from A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms + elsewhere belong to the rightful owners, I hold no rights to the original media - but my writing belongs to me.
This was absolutely delightful to read! I love your mind because Aerion with a goatee and moustache?? Hell yes. It would suit him so much. Loved reading this. Despite him being ooc this was so enjoyable, funny and sweet. What a cute and funny dynamic they have. I love how Maekar also was amused by it at the end, especially when she ellbowed Aerion into the ribs to win hehe
Cregan Stark welcomes Queen Rhaenyra to Winterfell—shortly after the birth of his first child with his targ!wife—only to notice that the usual protocols and ceremonies are rushed and the visitors ask for neither rest nor food after such a long journey. The Queen simply wants to see her daughter, bypassing even the wet nurse holding the baby to sit on the edge of the bed and take her child’s hand, tenderly caressing her face while her words in High Valyrian cause the Lady of Winterfell to soften into a childlike state—a side of her her husband had never seen before.
.
Rhaenyra Targaryen is welcomed at Winterfell—her first chance to meet her son-in-law in person—yet she has not the slightest interest in matters of kingdoms and lordships; her baby is inside the Great Keep. Her sweet, beloved girl—the only daughter the gods had granted her—had endured childbirth alone; oh, the poor girl, her darling little dragon. Rhaenyra will see her grandson and discuss the crown and relations with the North later; how could she prioritize such matters when her daughter is right there?
.
Daemon in King's Landing, finally as king–consort—regent while his wife its away:
Naww Rhaenyra looking after her baby first thing first is so sweet. But the thought of Daemon being left in Kings Landing to rule in her stead is terrifying lol that gif is the perfect representation!
Daeron having the lightest armor of all the knights (of higher birth) makes so much sense because he is a shit knight and definitely much weaker then the rest of them.
You haven't spoken a word to me since Mother's funeral.
Rhaenyra avoiding Joffrey like Viserys avoided seeing Rhaenyra after Aemma died.
And I so wanted it to be true.
Rhaenyra becoming obsessed with a prophetic belief and making it come true rather than playing the board in front of her like Viserys before her.
He doesn't protect you. I would.
Daemon believing he'd serve Rhaenyra's interests best by remaining at her side to protect her from herself and her council the same way he wanted to be by Viserys's side to protect him from himself and his council of leeches.
You've only ever sent me away.
Rhaenyra telling Daemon he keeps failing her and sending him away from the capital like Viserys did.
I alone patrol over a hundred miles of open sea, endlessly, to hold the blockade.
Baela scouring the Riverlands day and night barely sleeping or eating after supporting Jace in going to battle like Rhaenys patrolled the Gullet day and night barely sleeping or eating after choosing not to eliminate the Greens when she had the chance and stop the war before it begun.
Princess Rhaenys, the Queen Who Never Was
Baela realizing she'll spent the rest of her life being the Queen Who Never Was, her potential wasted like that of her grandmother before her.
I have a necklace. It's of great value.
Alicent trading a necklace to buy Helaena's escape the same way Helaena tried to use a necklace to barter for her child's life and both of them failing.
I came to you to be liberated.
Alicent telling Mysaria that she will never be Rhaenyra's first choice and that sticking with Rhaenyra will only endanger her the same way she wasn't Daemon's first choice and sticking with him ultimately only endangered her.
I like to imagine that at the end of season 2 after Tommy told Michael "I'm planning on getting married", Michael went home and blabbered "Tommy said he's getting married" to Polly, and Polly immediately put two and two together, and she stormed immediately to Tommy's office and got into a HUGE screaming match with him over Grace... that turned into a series of screaming matches over the following weeks/months. Really just shouting at the top of her lungs about how this marriage would be a disgrace—every conceivable objection she can think of.
GRACE the DISGRACE is a SPY and a COPPER
YOU HAVE OBLIGATIONS TO THIS FAMILY! AS THE HEAD OF THIS FAMILY YOU NEED TO THINK ABOUT WHO YOU ARE MARRYING!
YOU COULD AT LEAST MARRY SOMEONE STRATEGICALLY???
YOU MARRY YOUR BROTHER OFF FOR PEACE BUT YOU BRING FUCKING WAR DOWN ON OUR HEADS???
I WILL NEVER ACCEPT HER.
SO YOU KNOW WHERE TO BUY OPIUM FOR YOUR FUCKING PIPE BUT NOT CONDOMS, THOMAS?
SHE'S ALREADY MARRIED, THOMAS. WE ARE CATHOLIC. WE DON'T BELIEVE IN DIVORCE.
WHAT ABOUT THAT OBSCENELY RICH WOMAN WHO LIKES HORSES? DON'T YOU LIKE HORSES, THOMAS???? AND PILES OF MONEY???
SHE WORKED FOR CAMPBELL
I WILL NOT ALLOW THIS MARRIAGE! I WILL NOT ALLOW IT!
HER FAMILY IS FULL OF CAVALRYMEN, THOMAS. DID YOU THINK ABOUT THAT?
people complain about aegon and rhaenyra never having a conversation (not just in the show, the only recorded one they have in the book is when he kills her) but i think that’s one of the most compelling things about the story. they don’t actually know what the other wants. rhaenyra doesn’t know aegon tried to flee the city when viserys died. aegon doesn’t know rhaenyra did not order jaehaerys’ death and was horrified by it. it is a greek tragedy that one conversation between them could have changed everything.
author’s note ; i just realized that we haven’t seen much of realistic pictures of dragons in AKOTSK or HotD and it just clicked in my head that people needed to imagine how dragons looked like according to fairy tales pictures in books and their skulls in Red Keep and i got an idea!
Aerion being jealous of his dreamer!cousin reader.
Daeron saw prophetic dreams. that, at least, made sense. your dreams were different. it seemed more like flashbacks, considering how you were explaining it. you spoke of them with impossible certainty, remembering the warmth beneath their scales, the sound of their breathing, the weight of their gaze. every morning - another name, another memory. another dragon that had existed long before either of you had been born.
“they're getting clearer, the dreams” you said one morning during breakfast with your family, with conspiratorial wink to Aegon “i saw Arrax last night."
your little cousin immediately looked up. “really?”
you nodded excitedly. “he was beautiful. i think he'd suit you.”
you always did that and Aerion's blood began to boil. he hated the way your face lit up whenever you spoke about dragons. hated how easily you speak about them, telling Aegon how some long-dead dragon would have loved him, how Valarr asked you questions with patient smile, how Daeron shifted his attention from his wine and seemed to be really listening, how Baelor and even his own father, seemed to be pretty satisfied about what you been babbling about.
but the thing is, you never looked or even addressed Aerion. you named a dragon for everyone.
but not once did you say, this one would've chosen you.
that thought lodged itself somewhere beneath his ribs, festering. he deserved the dragon more than anyone. he was the dragon. he was the one who should have seen them.
yet the gods gave their memories to you.
author’s note 2 ; GUYS😭its been a while since i wrote something, and im finishing it while being really fcking tired, but its a push i needed to start posting and writing again🙏im planning to write a drabble based on this idea, but if you like it, feel free to take idea! tag me if there will be something🤍
I honestly think that Tommy’s mental state would have been significantly better had he been able to mute the family group chat. Tommy Shelby, O.B.E, MP would have fully embraced texting and the ability to control who, when and how he received and responded to messages. He would be infamous for leaving people on read and drive the family insane, in particular Arthur and Polly. Oddly enough he would always respond promptly to Alfie’s rambling texts. Oh and he would most certainly have a second phone that nobody in the family knew about except Ada who naturally has the phone number.
