the outfield
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“I just wanted to come home.” Daemon shifts uncomfortably. “I didn’t think I needed a reason.”
Rhaenyra has always been able to tell when Daemon is lying, or avoiding, or otherwise full of shit. Even now, this is one of the few things that hasn’t changed. He can tell that she wants to push him to admit things he’s never wanted to say aloud—that he was lonely, that he hates being alone, that he is pathetic enough to submit to Viserys’s constant disapproval if it means not being alone, or, even more pathetically, that he feels less alone than he ever has in his life when he’s with her.
“You never tell anyone what you’re thinking,” she says. “It’s always just go, go, go, and you never stop to explain why.”
Series
- Part 1 of the outfield
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“I used to love holding your hand. When I was little—”
“Was?”
This earns him a smack with the hand not currently tangled in his own. “When I was little it felt like you could practically swallow me whole.” She sizes him up. “You still could.”
“Is that so?” He slips his hand out of hers to run his palm up the length of her side, and she’s right: the span of it eats up her waist, then her ribcage, then her breast. He thumbs at her nipple through the washed-out cotton of her T-shirt; her eyes go wide, and he makes to move his hand, but she reaches up to grab him, keeping him where he is.
Series
- Part 2 of the outfield
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Summary
Rhaenyra doesn’t want much, not really. Just a few things: the weight of Daemon’s arm slung low across her hips, the weight of his hand on her belly, the weight of his (soft, wonderful) cock against her thigh. She’s getting what she wants, too, or most of it, and she can’t complain.
But Daemon still hasn’t let her touch him the way he touches her. She thinks she can guess why; she’s been on top of him, kissing him, pulling his hair and digging her nails into the back of his neck the way she knows he likes, grinding down on his lap like her life depends on it, and he’ll stay soft even as she’s soaking wet, drooling for him even before he gets his hands or his mouth on her. But she’s felt him hard too, and she has a rough idea of the size of him—does he think that will scare her away? It won’t.
Series
- Part 3 of the outfield
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Summary
Alicent clenches her jaw. “I came in here to apologize, you know? I actually felt bad for you, having to sit there and listen to that. But you’re making it impossible, just like you always do.”
“I don’t want an apology. I don’t want anything from you.” Strictly speaking, this is a lie. Rhaenyra can think of several things she might want from Alicent, just looking at her and her wide eyes and pouting mouth, but she certainly isn’t going to ask for any of that.
“Fine.” Alicent mirrors Rhaenyra’s posture, folding her arms as well. “Forget I even tried.”
“That’s the plan.” Rhaenyra knows that she should end this, that she should walk away and go back to the table and endure the rest of this night, but in the end she can’t resist. “You should be more careful, by the way,” she says to Alicent’s retreating back. “I saw the way you were looking at me out there. I think your dad noticed too, and I don’t think he liked it.”
Series
- Part 4 of the outfield
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“What kinds of things do you like?” he asks.
She blushes—good. That satisfies the part of him that he usually tries his best to ignore when he’s with her, the mean spiteful part that refuses to let him be the only one to give anything away. “You already know what I like.”
“Do I?”
“I like—I like it when you’re here. When you don’t leave.”
They’ve been through that before; it’s nothing new, not even really a concession at this point. “What else?”
She squirms until she’s bumping up against him, where he’s soft, where he’s been soft for weeks. She says it doesn’t bother her and he doesn’t think she’s lying, although he still doesn’t understand why “I like…that you’re staying because of me. Because I want you to. And that I can feel, like…that it’s different than how it was before. Like you belong to me."
Series
- Part 5 of the outfield
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Summary
It’s easy enough to forget that Daemon doesn’t belong to her and her alone. That Viserys knew him first, has known him longer. Most of Rhaenyra’s earliest memories of Daemon don’t involve her father at all. Her earliest memory, period, is just her and Daemon, with her mother in the background: a hot summer afternoon, years and years ago, Rhaenyra climbing into Daemon’s arms while he sat with Aemma by the pool, the feeling of his warm hand resting on her back and the sound of his low voice lulling her to sleep.
Series
- Part 6 of the outfield
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Summary
Alicent was seven the first time she went on vacation with Rhaenyra and her family. It was a thrilling novelty to be supervised by adults who weren’t her own parents, a supervision that she remembers mainly consisted of looking on indulgently and little else while Rhaenyra came up with fun ideas like burying herself, then Alicent, then an uncharacteristically pliant Daemon, in sand.
Now Rhaenyra’s fun has nothing to do with Alicent. She and Daemon lie together in the sand, laughing over some shared private joke, while Alicent sits awkwardly in the background, unsure of the rules and feeling like an interloper in the world of people who know how to have fun. She watches them from a distance: the easy way they touch each other, the way Rhaenyra leans into his space like she belongs there and nowhere else. The way she used to be with Alicent, once.
Series
- Part 7 of the outfield
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Summary
Alicent lets herself be led. This is something else she can’t decide if she loves or hates, although she thinks the fact that it keeps happening means something about how she feels about it, something she doesn’t want to think about at all. She doesn’t let herself think about it now—not when Rhaenyra strips her out of her bathing suit, not when she pins Alicent’s wrists above her head, not when she looks up at her right before she kisses her cunt.
That’s the best part: the soothing all-encompassing blankness, right before she comes. For one brief moment, Alicent has nothing—no fear, no responsibilities, no father— except what exists in this room. She knows exactly how she feels about that, although she won’t admit it out loud, and she knows she doesn’t hate it.
Series
- Part 8 of the outfield
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Summary
“If Rhaenyra were here—”
“But she isn’t.”
“So I’ll sub in.”
Alicent stares at him, uncomprehending. “You want to be Rhaenyra?”
“Like her but bigger. Isn’t that what you said before?”
Rhaenyra has been obsessed with Daemon their entire lives. When they were younger she wanted to dress like him, act like him, cut her hair like his, listen to his music and watch his movies and imitate the way he walked and talked. Alicent has never before considered that this would go both ways. “You want to be Rhaenyra,” she repeats, more sure of herself.
“Don’t overanalyze it.”
Series
- Part 9 of the outfield
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Summary
exactly what the title says it is.
Series
- Part 10 of the outfield