#and ali reassuring her that they got this

[dungeons-and-dragon-age]

head so full with denerim final battle thoughts hhhhhh

[flowerandblood]

The Loved One (2/2)

[ modern • Aemond x Alys!sister • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, smut, angst, swearing, toxic behaviour and relations, manipulation, therapy ]

[ description: After the events of that night, Alys' sister tries to move on from what happened, proud that she didn't cause a tragedy. However, when it turns out that Alys' boyfriend has broken up with her the next day, her older sister becomes hysterical, and she wonders despairingly whether she was the reason of his decision. Lost, obsessive, distant, desperate Aemond. Anon request. ]

This is Part 2 of The Second One

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

Even though weeks had passed since that bizarre night, she couldn't forget what had happened. It didn't help that the next day her older sister called their mother crying, saying that this shithead had dared to leave her, to walk away after all she had endured for him.

She stared with big eyes at the pancakes lying on the plate in front of her feeling the cold sweat on her neck and the rapid pounding of her heart, listening to her mother's puzzled questions trying to calm her down, saying in a trembling voice that maybe it would be better this way, that after all they were still fighting.

Alys seemed to have forgotten everything that happened between them and what he had said to her the day before, she felt tears under her eyelids hearing her sobbing, her helpless confession that she loved him and didn't want to live without him.

She felt his hand between her thighs, his tongue deep in her throat.

She was ashamed that she had barely held back, that she had refused him with difficulty, that some part of her wanted him to stay.

To fuck her.

She swallowed loudly, feeling herself shudder at the memory of the piece of paper he had slipped under her door and what was written on it.

I wish I had met you before her.

She felt a kind of discomfort at the thought of being possessed by some kind of terror and satisfaction, because she was bonded with him by a secret that no one knew about but them.

A moment later, however, she recalled how awful things he had said about Alys, how objectively he had treated her, and that he would have done exactly the same with her if she had not regained her sobriety of mind in time.

She has big tits and a big ass.

She sucks cock well.

She shook her head, feeling that it made her sick to her stomach at the thought, and got up from the table, unable and unwilling to listen to it, recognising that her sister was right.

They were made for each other.

To her despair, Alys came to their house again later that day, but paying no attention to her, directing her despair and pain towards their mother, telling her that he wasn't taking her calls, that he had blocked her number, that he had simply texted her briefly and that was it.

"How could he do this, so many years, we've been through so much together and he breaks up with me over a fucking text message? Like a fucking kid, no conversation, no explanation?" She heard her mumbling coming from the living room and their mother's voice trying to reassure her, she stood in the dark hallway of their house, eavesdropping involuntarily, thinking with some kind of amusement that it was obvious he had ended it that way.

She shuddered when she heard her name and the fact that her sister had stood up, she ran quickly upstairs, fearing that the subject of their argument and what she had accused him of would now cause her to lash out at her.

True to her intuition, Alys knocked on the door to her room after a while, her mother tried to calm her down but she interrupted her saying that she just wanted to talk, that it was possible she knew of something more.

They stepped inside, her older sister grunting as she tried to quiet herself down, wiping her smudged make-up with her fingers, her face red from tears.

"I'm sorry for his inappropriate behaviour yesterday, he kept staring at you, too sure to get me off balance. Did he bother you after I left?" She asked, putting her hands in front of her, as if this question was a formality for her.

Something in the way she said it, in her conviction that it all revolved around her, that she was asking it not because she was worried about her but because she wanted to prove something to herself made any sympathy and remorse she had felt a moment before disappear.

She told me about you. What an ugly duckling you are. That you don’t know how to dress well, don’t know how to accentuate your figure and your assets. That you hide yourself in big sweatshirts and sit with your nose in books instead of really living and that there’s nothing to talk to you about because you can’t converse about anything interesting.

She recognised that she had acted appropriately, she had cut whatever was going on in time and told him to leave, so she didn't feel the need to admit anything.

"He wanted to talk to me about Gombrowicz, presumably so that I would repeat it to you later and to arouse your jealousy. I told him to leave and that's what he did." She replied softly so that her words were not a complete lie, her sister pressed her lips together, clearly displeased by her statement, her nostrils quivering in uncertainty and rage.

"Is that all? He didn't want anything else?" She asked coolly, and she raised her eyebrows and laughed dryly, recognising that for some reason all this amused her, the thought that her little sister about whom she had said such things might have taken away something that belonged to her.

She had no such intention.

Take him, she thought.

You're both sick.

"Me? Please. I told him clearly not to involve me in your affairs and use me against you." She said indifferently, she noticed out of the corner of her eye that her sister had turned purple, she swallowed loudly as if she was afraid of what she was about to hear.

"What did he say to you?" She asked in a trembling voice forcing herself to be calm, from which she felt a thrill of satisfaction.

"A lot of things. For example, what you say about me. What a caring, good sister you are. How much you worry about me, with what tenderness you think of me." She replied while playing with the pencil lying on her desk, not even looking at her, feeling the awkward silence that had fallen around them.

"I…after all, you know that I would never say anything in bad faith. I get upset with you sometimes, like any sister, I don't understand you, it's true, but I love you, you know that. God, that fucking liar and manipulator!" She growled helplessly, fiddling with her necklace between her fingers in a nervous gesture, looking pleadingly at their mother as if hoping for her support in the matter.

"If he's a liar and a manipulator, why do you want to be with him?" She asked tiredly and impatiently, no longer feeling anything but grief and disapproval.

"That's how we are, both of us…like fire, we argue and come back, it's always been that way." She muttered, and she swallowed hard, thinking with relief that the fact that she had refused him was the wisest decision of her life.

"Do what you want, don't get me involved. Leave." She said dryly, taking a book from her shelf, Trans-Atlantyk by Witold Gombrowicz.

Alys left her room, clearly furious that the conversation hadn't gone according to her plan, that she couldn't go on playing the victim, the one innocent and perpetually abused.

She thought she wanted nothing to do with them.

A few weeks passed and she slowly began to forget about the situation even though Alys couldn't get over it, she knew she was now on some sleeping pills, immersed in utter despair.

She figured that sooner or later she would find someone else, she just prayed that he wouldn't change his mind and come back to her, because she didn't know how she would bear the sight of him in her house.

However, something happened that she had not expected at all.

One evening she received a message from an unknown number.

She opened it and frowned after she read its contents.

She felt her heart start pounding like crazy, a cold sweat on the back of her neck, she covered her mouth with her hand, terrified, wondering where he had got her number, what was she supposed to do now.

Block it and delete it? Threaten him with telling Alys and her mother everything?

She was afraid of what he was capable of, that he might start talking about the fact that she had let him stay with her after all, that something more than a kiss had happened.

She swallowed loudly as she looked at her screen and slowly typed out a reply on her phone's keypad.

She sent it, clenching her eyes, thinking with despair that her answer was too aggressive, that it would surely enrage him, that she would regret all that had happened, her stupid moment of weakness.

She shuddered when, a moment later, her display lit up again and she opened the message from him with her heart beating fast.

She looked at what he'd written without knowing for herself what she felt, her throat squeezed so tightly that she had trouble breathing. She jumped when the messages began to appear one after another.

She read everything he wrote with an expression of disbelief, completely shocked by this sudden externalisation. She felt her heart squeeze, her body trembling in horror at the fact that he was trying to play with her again, unwittingly giving her what she wanted.

She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself, angry at herself for letting him do this to her, telling her what she wanted to hear, putting himself in the role of a disappointed and disillusioned man who needed comforting.

He knew she longed to be appreciated, to be important to someone, to be the only one, to do something her sister had failed to do.

To fix him.

He was giving her himself on a plate, distraught, seeking comfort and refuge, an opportunity for her to prove herself, to show to herself that she was better, more tender, smarter than her sister.

She felt tears of helplessness and humiliation gathering at the corners of her eyes, and swallowed loudly, typing out a message on her phone.

She sent the message and breathed out loud, covering her face with her hands, wondering in pain why he was doing this to her, why he was being so cruel.

Did he want to prove something to himself, to stab her sister in the back with her help?

She shuddered when she heard her phone vibrate and unlocked it quickly, her lips dry with stress.

She didn't know why she burst into sobs after reading his message, why she felt so sad, embittered and humiliated.

I wish I had met you before her.

Why was he doing this to her?

Why was he messing with her head?

For some reason, because of everything she had read, she felt even worse, the pain that ripped through her heart seemed unbearable.

Some part of her wanted to believe him.

She had trouble sleeping, going back to what he had written again and again, once wanting to block him, then immediately deciding that there was no need, that he had clearly given her peace.

She knew she should forget about him, but she couldn't.

Therefore, she tried to concentrate on her studies, her classes filling her entire days, she even took extra lessons, wanting to be away from home in the evenings as well.

Walking through the large, neo-Gothic hall, she came across a poster hanging on the notice board, announcing open lectures taking place every week on Thursday at 7pm, on the works of Orwell, Kafka, Dostoyevsky and Gombrowicz, entitled 'The Fall of the World'.

She thought the whole thing sounded extremely tempting, and as she loved all these writers, she decided to attend at least once.

The lecture was held in a library that anyone could enter, to make things easier for outside listeners, when she went inside most of the seats at the tables were already taken.

She stopped in mid-step, wanting to back away, but it was too late; the tall, well-built figure of a blond-haired man sitting in one of the chairs turned towards her involuntarily, his gaze expressing shock.

"Miss Rivers, welcome! Please, take a seat." Professor Moore, the same one who had lectured to her year on twentieth-century world literature, spoke to her.

She nodded, horrified that it would be at least odd if she left now, so she sat down in one of the empty seats trying not to look at the sinister, inscrutable man sitting a few seats away.

She felt ashamed that some part of her was glad to see him, as if she hoped to meet him again.

"Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four is an extremely heavy read, filled with metaphors, and yet, the author foretold something in it, perfectly describing what communism led to, the fear of surveillance and propaganda, the feeling that everyone is an informer, that no one can be trusted, can be observed in a large part of contemporary Russian citizens. Cut off from non-state information sources, from certain parts of the internet, they live in the conviction that their country cares about them, that the security services are following them and spying on them for their own good. Some even firmly believe that this is for the best. Don't you think it's frightening that something Orwell predicted actually happened, on top of it earlier than he thought?" Asked her professor, she raised her hand, recognising that if she allowed herself to be drawn into the discussion, she would stop thinking about the man who sat a few chairs away.

He let her speak with a nod.

"Orwell wrote this book in 1945, already knowing what Nazism and Communism were. He did not understand how Western Europe could have agreed to recognise Stalin as one of the victors and lead, as a result, to the so-called Iron Curtain in later years. This book was his warning, his sense that we had crossed some line of dehumanisation after Auschwitz that had never happened before in the world." She said on one exhale, a second person, an older man also raised his hand.

"He may have known, but he also felt under his skin that it would not end with communism and Nazism. And he was right. The place of these groupings is being taken by others, just as threatening, also talking about the rights of the nation or the equality of all. We forget that Hitler and Lenin also originally floated on fine words." Said the man, several people nodded their heads in agreement. She shuddered when she heard another voice, familiar to her, speak up without permission, impatient.

"Orwell was not an idiot. If he had wanted to deal with the problem of the rise of political sects, he would have started with that, but he places the plot in the course of events when the state is completely subordinated to the apparatus of power. We hope for a happy ending, a complete victory, but Orwell recognises that there was no such thing after the Second World War. Nuremberg held Germany to account, but not Russia or Japan. Nowadays we don't even talk about their crimes, we delight in their culture and history forgetting whose side they were on, often committing far worse crimes than Hitler."

He said coldly, she was surprised by how accurate this observation was, she looked at him involuntarily, he was sitting with his profile to her, his jaw clenched, the fingers of his hand stretched out on the tabletop moving restlessly, playing with the pen that lay before him.

He glanced at her, as if to see how she would react to his words, to his voice, and momentarily dropped his gaze, as if embarrassed, caught off guard.

"Each of these three comments is exceptionally apt. The anxiety that Orwell arouses accompanies us in our daily lives right up to the present day, and somehow he has managed to create a vision of a universal totalitarian system that suits every one that has been mentioned. Let us now turn to the specific chapters…"

They passed the rest of the lecture discussing whether there really was any resistance movement at all, or whether it was just a contrived idea used to catch would-be rebels and break their will even before they could really stand up to anyone.

Somehow the conversation about the book had put her in a depressed, gloomy state; when the professor thanked them and said they were seeing each other next week she wasn't sure she'd come a second time.

Even more so if she was to see him during them.

They were open lectures and he had a right to be there, but she was already tired.

She heard his footsteps behind her and knew it was him when she felt his large hand grab her gently by her shoulder.

"Wait. I'm sorry. I really didn't know you were coming −"

"− I know. You have nothing to apologise for." She said softly, wanting to pull away from him, but he didn't let her go, even though she wasn't looking at him she could feel his burning gaze, his heat, his raspy breath on her cheek.

"− promise you'll come next week − that you won't give up because of me −" He said in a low voice, she felt embarrassment and a squeeze in her throat at the thought that she wasn't sure if he meant that he didn't want her to give up her interests because of him, or that he was hoping to see her again.

"− I don't know yet −" She replied in a shaky, tired voice, feeling that her heart was pounding like crazy, for some reason she felt tears burning under her eyelids, at the same time she wanted him to give her peace and not to do it, something in his darkness, in his unpredictability attracted her.

She thought with despair that perhaps it was the same thing that kept Alys from forgetting him.

He grunted and let her go, clearly sensing that he had held her for too long, an awkward silence full of tension fell between them.

"I'm not going to lie. I was hoping to see you here." He murmured lowly, lowering his gaze, slipping his hands into the pockets of his trousers, the black turtleneck he wore perfectly framing his well-built, broad chest.

She pressed her lips together at his words, adjusting the straps of her backpack hanging over her shoulders in an involuntary, nervous gesture, unsure what she was supposed to respond to such a confession, feeling heat in her lower abdomen at the thought that for some reason he didn't want to forget her.

"Why are you doing this? What else do you want from me?" She asked embittered, looking up at him at last, he lifted his gaze to her, fear, desperation and shame in his eyes.

He swallowed loudly, as if he didn't know what he should answer, looking at her in silence.

"I missed you." He muttered quietly, embarrassed like a small child, she shook her head, her eyebrows arched in pain and disbelief.

"What?"

"I missed you. The way I felt back then."

"For God's sake, we only spoke once, what do you miss? The adrenaline that was bubbling inside you at the thought that maybe I'd be naive enough to let you fuck me? I let you into my room, into my life only for you to humiliate me. You are a cruel man."

She mumbled out while bursting into a loud, uncontrollable sob, covering her face with her hand, she heard in disbelief that his reaction to her words was identical, he embraced her and pulled her close, hugging her to his chest and although she wanted to push him away, she couldn't.

"− I didn't mean to hurt you − I swear I really just wanted to talk, I couldn't sleep, I was angry − what happened next −" He mumbled out, his voice stuck in his throat, he drew in a sudden, shaky breath of air, swallowing loudly.

"− I just − I don't know, I have no idea what came over me, I never cheated on her, I swear − I swear −" He babbled, both of them crying loudly, her hands rose higher and tightened on his back, she felt both pain and relief at the thought that he was as embarrassed and heartbroken as she was.

"− can we start again? − as if we had never met? −" He asked pleadingly and she, not knowing why, nodded, thinking she wanted to leave it all far, far behind.

Although they both calmed down after a moment, they still lingered in each other's embrace, a pleasant shiver running down her spine as she felt his large hand stroking her hair and back with a calm gesture full of care, her face snuggled into his warm chest, her nostrils filled with his masculine scent.

She shuddered and swallowed loudly as his lips placed a drawn-out, hot kiss on the top of her head, her breath caught in her throat when she felt something pulsate hard in his trousers.

They pulled away from each other, wiping their faces, both pretending nothing had happened, he breathed out loud, combing his hair in a light, careless gesture, his cheeks red with emotion.

"− see you −" He muttered, and although she knew she shouldn't, she showed up for the next lecture.

And then the next and the next.

Each time he sat down next to her, close, too close, his legs splayed comfortably making his knee pressed against hers, but she didn't move away, herself getting something out of the situation that she couldn't name.

Her sister had told her mother on the phone that she had moved on, that she wasn't going to trouble herself with this bastard, told her about their endless arguments, about how he would raise his voice and throw things, leave in the middle of a conversation slamming the door, about how he always acted like a spoilt little child when he didn't get what he wanted.

She knew that she was leaving out of these arguments what she herself had said and done in an obvious attempt to create a narrative of his one-sided aggression, however, despite being malicious and ironic, she was struck by how completely different his view of the whole thing was.

Sometimes the two of them would buy warm tea from the vending machine and spend spring evenings in the university park sitting on the grass on his leather jacket, just talking, since they had both cried and cuddled he had not tried to touch her or otherwise invade her personal space.

"My family has always been involved in the modeling industry. Big money, big banquets, fashion shows in Paris and Venice. I always despised it, but what could be done? My father expected me and my siblings to take over his inheritance, on top of which his daughter from his first marriage was fighting for a bigger share than she was originally entitled to. It was some kind of nightmare." He muttered, taking a sip of the hot liquid from a small cardboard cup, looking somewhere ahead with a blank stare, the sun was setting behind the beautiful neo-Gothic red brick buildings.

"To be honest, it never interested me. I was into art, but not this half-world. When I met your sister I liked the fact that she was going after what she wanted. Of course, she wasn't the first chick to want to go to bed with me for the obvious benefits, but her impudence was downright endearing in a way. Only later did I realise that it was impudence mixed with calculating. But we were both too proud to let go, to be the weak link."

He sighed and shrugged his shoulders, finally looking at her with the same tired, resigned eyes she had seen for weeks, she couldn't tell if what he was saying and showing her was the truth or just his game.

But who would want to pretend for so long?

He lowered his gaze, scratching his cheek with his thumb, seeing in her eyes that she remained wary of him, that she did not trust him.

She herself didn't know why she had allowed him to spend time together, only to find with sadness that some part of her wanted to understand him.

"I'm afraid you won't be able to undo what's happened inside your head without the help of a professional." She said softly, looking down at the cup she held between her hands on her thighs, she heard him swallow hard, she knew this topic was not comfortable for him.

"Will you come with me? If I make an appointment." He muttered in a low, hoarse voice, she looked at him in disbelief feeling a tightness in her throat, once again surprised by his behaviour and his words.

"If you really do it, I'll go with you." She said quietly, feeling a sense of discomfort, knowing she shouldn't do it, on the other hand realising that her mother had made sure Alys visited the psychiatrist at least a few times, and he needed it just as badly.

She did not believe that he would do so, recognising that this was part of his plan to soften her up.

Nevertheless, after a few days she received a message from him with the address of the doctor's office and the time of the appointment.

She turned up at the place indicated, lying to her mother that she had gone to the University Library, the office of the man he had mentioned was in fact in the suburbs, and next to the door to the building was a nameplate with his profession.

A few minutes before the time he pulled up in a big, shiny black SUV, dressed in a black tight T-shirt tucked into black trousers, a watch on his wrist, when he got out he looked stressed and unhappy, she knew he really didn't want to do that.

He lit a quick cigarette even though he only had a few minutes left before his visit and she thought he would cowardly tell her that he didn't feel like it after all, that he didn't have to do it, that he was already feeling better.

"Is it really necessary? Externalising myself to some fucking asshole for my money?" He asked coldly, taking a drag on his cigarette with a quiet hiss, she looked at him feeling a squeeze in her chest, tears of regret under her eyelids at the thought that she had spent so much of her time and effort on him only to realise that he was exactly as she had imagined him to be.

Seeing the look on her face he swallowed loudly and lowered his gaze to his feet, wiping his forehead with the back of the hand in which he held the cigarette in a nervous gesture, she had the impression that his body was quivering.

"− I'm sorry − thank you, little one − if it wasn't for you I wouldn't have come here at all −" He muttered low, taking a quick drag a few times, extinguishing the remnants of his cigarette on a bin standing nearby, letting the smoke out loudly through his nose.

He startled her when he stepped inside, so she moved behind him, both of them heading up the steps past the signs straight into the cabinet. She watched as he sighed heavily and knocked, a middle-aged man who could have been their father opened the door for him after a moment.

"This is my friend I mentioned. I want her to be there when we talk." He said lowly, and she froze, looking at his back in disbelief as he stepped inside, convinced that he just wanted her to wait for him outside.

She lowered her gaze, horrified at the thought that he would be telling him his problems, his most intimate secrets in front of her, but she wasn't sure she could refuse when he had already taken such a big step forward.

The doctor smiled at her and, with a gesture of his hand, encouraged her to go inside, so she did, taking a seat on the other side of the sofa, the doctor sat opposite them.

"Please tell me what brings you to me."

He began, she stared at a flower in a pot standing at the other end of the office, feeling like an intruder, as if she was eavesdropping on someone's conversation and had no idea what she should do with herself.

"I tend to be verbally aggressive. I tend to get involved in toxic relationships with other toxic people and I'm like that myself."

She heard his low voice and swallowed loudly, somehow appreciating his self-criticism, the fact that he saw the problem holistically.

"Let's start with the first sentence. What do you think 'verbal aggression' means?"

"I know what to say to hurt someone. I know it, I do it on purpose and I get satisfaction from it."

"Please say something more about this feeling of satisfaction."

He remained silent for a moment, she heard him shrug his shoulders, impatient.

"The feeling of power."

"What do you feel after that, when the satisfaction passes?"

"Emptiness."

She looked at him uncertainly, fiddling nervously with the fabric of the dress covering her thighs, feeling that her whole body was tense, a cold sweat on her back.

"A lot of people get addicted to adrenaline. Also from arguments, aggression or violent sex. The lack of affection and security is filled with temporary emotions, and their absence causes similar symptoms to alcohol rehab. When you regain control you see yourself and the world as it is."

Said the doctor, she saw him just nod at his words, swallowing hard, looking at his hands, she saw with horror that he was picking at the cuticles around his nails creating tiny wounds.

He remained silent.

"You mentioned that you consider yourself a toxic person and get into a relationship with such people."

"Yes."

"Why do you judge yourself that way?"

The man asked, and he licked his lips in a quick impatient gesture.

"Because I am cruel to other people. Harsh and vicious."

"Please elaborate on that thought."

For the next half hour he talked about examples of his behaviour, how he despised models making a career out of bed, how deep down he loathed her sister and himself, the business he was forced to be stuck in, full of injustice and discrimination.

She listened to it feeling resentful towards him for deceiving her sister for so long, on the other hand hearing for the first time how Alys addressed him, what the beginning of their relationship was like.

"When I gave her what she wanted she was the sweetest, most submissive woman I knew. But if I didn't, she would turn into a screaming, spiteful creature telling me I was a cunt and a little child, so I didn't leave her hanging. What did she expect, that she would call me that and I wouldn't answer anything? That I didn't know she had nothing more to offer me than her body? What pissed me off about her wasn't that she lacked knowledge, it was that there was no curiosity about the world in her, that she didn't want to expand it, to understand more. Just fucking, partying and posing."

"But you still lasted in that relationship because, from what I understand, you were so comfortable. What changed?" The doctor asked, and she flinched as he glanced at her quickly, immediately looking away, swallowing loudly, terrified of what was about to leave his mouth.

"I think that I'm in love with someone."

She drew in air loudly, feeling tears under her eyelids, her whole body breathless, she felt the heat in her lower abdomen, that embarrassing, sticky wetness.

She knew she shouldn't, but when he suggested after the visit that she go to his place, she agreed.

There was a kind of despair in the way he pressed her against the wall with a sudden motion as soon as the door closed behind them, the way his tongue forced its way between her lips with his groan of relief, the way, with quick and sure movements, his hands slid the material of her underwear off her, which she threw off her legs with an impatient flick.

She knew she shouldn't, but she felt nothing but delight as he knelt in front of her looking at her with wide eyes, he lifted the material of her dress over her thighs, throwing her hip over his shoulder, she tilted her head back with a soft moan as his lips began to brush and kiss her weeping folds.

"− we can't −" She muttered, but she knew she'd only said it to feel a little less regret that it was so pleasurable, that her fingers clenched on his short hair as he cupped her clit between his lips and began sucking on it, teasing her opening again and again with the tip of his tongue.

"− fuck − fuck −" She whimpered girlishly, moving her hips involuntarily in rhythm with his strokes, a loud murmur of delight erupting from his throat at how much she was leaking, the sound of it running in vibration through her entire body.

"− I could spend all day like this − would you like it? −" He gasped between teasing motions of his tongue pushing its way between her sticky muscles, hot with arousal, a moan bordering on a cry broke from her throat as he began to tease the spot hidden inside her from which his whole corridor seemed blurred to her.

"− stop −" She mumbled helplessly, panting loudly along with him, feeling his words deep inside her, her walls began to clench around nothing, he only grunted at her plea, stopping abruptly, rising from his knees, she settled again on both feet, feeling that her legs were trembling all over.

"− you can leave now, if you want − I won't stop you −" He breathed out, with a quick, sure movement of his fingers undoing the buckle from the belt of his trousers, she looked at him with her eyes wide open, feeling in her mind only that wonderful heat between her thighs.

"− be gentle − be gentle and don't mock me −" She muttered, and he grabbed her by her hair and pulled her close, their lips pressed together in an aggressive, sticky, loud kiss.

She squealed quietly as he lifted her easily, in an involuntary reflex she threw her arms around his neck, enclosing his waist between her legs, his mouth smelling of her wetness not pulling away for a moment as his one hand dealt with the material of his trousers and boxers.

The tips of his fingers ran over her cheek, his forehead pressed against hers as she felt the fat head of his cock push in between her folds, they both moaned low, surprised, his fingers digging into the soft skin of her thigh, forcing her to fit him deeper inside her.

"− fuck −" She whimpered, spreading her thighs wider, he looked down at her with eyes black with desire, his lips parted in a pathetic groan as her leaking walls let him all the way in.

"− god, little one − oh fuck −" He mumbled out with involuntary movements of his hips thrusting into her as deeply as possible, they both moaned into each other's mouths as his lips pressed against hers again, her hands ran over his hair and down the nape of his neck, answered by his loud murmur of pleasure.

"− I've waited so long for this − you were already wet for me then, weren't you? − you wanted it inside you −" He breathed out, speeding up, each stroke of his swollen cock teasing again and again the same spot he had squeezed with his tongue earlier, only a helpless moan of pleasure escaping from her chest, their bodies slapping against each other with a loud click of her moisture.

"− please − please, please, please −" She babbled between licks of their tongues and lips, his large hands clamped down on her ass, accelerating, the stabs of his hips opening her wide on his length again and again, her walls pulsing against him, sucking him inside.

"− oh, yes, that's it − gonna cum, baby? − gonna cum for me? −" He cooed rooting into her with his cock thick with lust, she nodded her head clenching her fingers in his hair, panting hard, and she leaned back with a sweet moan as her body shook with convulsions, her walls began to throb and clench against him in pleasure.

"− god, yes − little one − where −" He muttered, and she only managed to whimper for him to come inside her, thanking God for the existence of the pills, she heard his low groan of relief and pleasure, a few messy, greedy thrusts of his hips were enough to make him spill inside her, their bodies twitching and quivering, shocked at how intense this close-up was.

For a long moment they both merely panted and kissed lazily, his hands running over the bare, hot skin of her buttocks, her fingers stroking his hair with his quiet murmur of pleasure.

"− so good − so kind − so pretty −" He hummed between their kisses, stroking the soft skin of her cheek with his thumb, shame overwhelmed her at the thought that she felt butterflies in her stomach at his words.

She knew she shouldn't do this, but she let him take her once more on his bed, his thighs slapping against her buttocks again and again with each desperate thrust of his hips, their naked bodies entwined together in a tight embrace, sweaty and hot.

"− fuck − fuck −" He panted into her mouth between greedy, messy, loud kisses, his wonderful scent filling her entire lungs, her naked breasts pressed against his chest, her fingers digging into the bare skin of his back.

"− mghm − m close −" She mumbled out, her walls oversensitive after her earlier fulfilment, the tip of his swollen cock rubbing again and again the spot inside her from which she felt shivers and tickling, the heat in her lower abdomen unbearable.

"− come on, little one − give me one more − that's it, fuck! −" He gasped loudly and bit his lower lip, trying to stifle the low groan of pleasure that ripped from his throat as her fleshy muscles began to throb in orgasm, sucking him inside.

She tried to push him away, delicate and sore, quivering and writhing beneath him, but he accelerated, slamming into her for a moment more with sure, deep thrusts.

"− I know, baby, just a moment longer − shhh −" He mumbled out before he reached his peak inside her for the second time, a soft, loud sigh of relief and delight escaping his lips.

He collapsed on top of her, burying his face in her hair, panting heavily along with her, their skin sticky from sweat and exertion, their hands trailing blindly over their naked bodies, wanting to remember and take everything possible from this moment.

"− stay with me, little one − please, stay with me −" He whispered softly, his voice trembling with emotion, with the feeling that she was going to try again to escape him, what he wanted and what it all meant.

She swallowed quietly and combed her fingers through his hair, looking up at the ceiling with slightly parted lips, breathing loudly, her body at once relaxed from another fulfilment and tense, filled with uncertainty and fear.

He could feel her hesitation, when he heard no response from her he lifted himself slowly on his arms, wanting to look at her face.

"− what I told that doctor is true − I want to change − want to be a person worth loving − I know I screwed up then −" He whispered, stroking her cheek with his large hand, she looked away, feeling her own body tremble, his thumb ran over her soft skin.

"− do you know what the real tragedy of this situation is? − that some part of me reciprocates your feelings − but I don't know how I could ever really trust you −" She whispered in a calm, low tone, feeling a lone tear of regret flow from the corner of her eye onto the pillow under her head smelling of his perfume, the adrenaline and endorphin stopped bubbling through her body, leaving only an emptiness inside her.

She felt him looking at her, completely unsure of what to say, his soft manhood still deep inside her.

He slipped out of her gently after a moment, standing up without a word, grabbing his trousers which were lying on the floor, standing with his back to her, putting them on, not even giving her a single glance.

She stood up too, clenching her lips so tightly that she felt like they were purple, her throat twitching all over in a sob that she didn't let escape, but she couldn't hold back the tears of horror, shame and disappointment that flooded her face.

She didn't look at him when she left, when she ran down the stairs and simply left the building, moving in front of her, trying to think soberly where she was and what bus stop she should go to in order to get home.

She heard a vibration in her backpack after a while, her phone ringing and ringing, but she didn't even take it out, not knowing what else they were going to say to each other.

It was obvious that he had never respected or taken her sister seriously, and while it was obvious that she wanted him, she couldn't believe that the depth of his feelings were actually that great.

She felt that he had talked himself into this feeling, mythologised it and also her character, creating in his mind a tragic story of two lovers who had always been destined for each other, to further distance himself in his mind and mock her sister's personality.

She arrived home pale but refrained from crying in front of her parents, she explained that she felt sick and would go to bed early.

However, not half an hour passed and she heard the screech of tyres on her driveway, she got up to the window and took a few steps backwards, startled to recognise his car, her heart was pounding like mad, her throat squeezed so tight with fear that she felt like she was going to vomit.

Will he tell them everything? Will he humiliate her in front of her parents, entertain himself at her expense now? Will he take revenge?

She ran quickly downstairs hearing raised voices, his, her father's and her mother's, her mother clearly outraged at the sight of him and his insolence.

"How dare you show up here after all this? Have you no shame?"

"Did your younger daughter get home safely?"

"It is none of your business, young man, you are to leave our house immediately!"

Said her mother, enraged and heartbroken, her father threatened to call the police on him, but he lifted his gaze hearing her footsteps and spotted her on the half-floor standing on the stairs.

Something changed in his gaze, she saw that he swallowed hard, in his eyes pain, fatigue, regret and something else from which she ran out of breath.

"Thank you. I've already found out what I wanted." He said lowly, turning and simply walking away, closing the door behind him, her parents looked at her in disbelief, they heard the sound of the engine firing up.

"What did he mean? Why was he asking about you?" Asked her father, and she looked at them with her eyes wide open not knowing what to say.

Did he come just to check that she got home safely?

"He goes to therapy. He asked me to go with him. He didn't want to be there alone." She told only part of the truth with shame, having no strength to pretend any longer, her mother froze, looking quickly at her father and then back at her, her eyebrows arched in disbelief.

"After all, this man is unpredictable, look what he did to Alys. He's made her dependent on him, like a parasite he's put the idea in her mind that she won't be able to live without him."

"And she did the same thing to him."

"What?"

"Alys was doing the same thing to him. He was showing me messages from her, mum. Sent from her number. That's why I went with him." She mumbled out and burst into sobs again, covering her face with her hand, her pain and despair finding an escape at last.

Her mother seeing her condition moved towards her and hugged her, in her embrace some kind of understanding, her father looked up at her from below with his hands placed on his hips and sighed heavily, shaking his head.

"Alys can't know."

For the next few days neither he nor she made contact. Some part of her was grateful to him for not pressuring her, for letting her put it all together in her head.

She herself did not know what she felt.

On the one hand, caution prevailed in her in his presence, she had the feeling that she was still waiting for some blow from him, an unexpected hit that would break her and prove to herself that he had been playing with her all this time for his own entertainment.

But then she remembered their conversation in the university courtyard, what he had said at the psychiatrist's.

I think that I'm in love with someone.

She read their long exchanges about poets, writers, but also about their thoughts and their lives, trying to find any trace of a lie or manipulation in them, but was pained to find that, although it may have been due to a lack of distance, she did not find it.

She no longer knew what was truth and what was a lie.

The last extra classes of the semester were open lectures she was attending with him, she knew they would be discussing Trans-Atlantyk and she thought maybe that was a sign.

She reasoned that if he didn't turn up it would mean that he had given up, that he had been disappointed with her and got bored and that she could move on at last.

She had arrived earlier than usual, wanting to borrow some books from the library for the holidays, standing at one of the bookcases she spotted him from a distance sitting alone at a table, bent over a thick volume, even though it was still half an hour to class he was sitting in the same seat as always.

She felt the heat fill her body, her heart began to pound like crazy due to some incomprehensible joy at the sight of him.

She moved towards him with several tomes in her hands and sat down next to him, they did not greet each other, however, she felt his gaze on her, his warm breath on her skin.

She turned her face towards him and noticed that his healthy eye was all red, his lower lip trembling, as if he didn't believe she would come, that he would ever see her again.

Something in that sight, in the tear that ran down his cheek made her lay her head on his shoulder, snuggling her nose into his neck, she heard him draw in air greedily, his hand rose quickly and touched her cheek, his fingers twitching, stroking her soft skin with a gentle, tender motion.

She put her arm around his shoulder and stayed like that, feeling strangely calm and safe, she felt him place his cheek on the top of her head, she could hear his broken, rapid breathing, his lips placing a tender kiss on her hair once in a while.

She turned her face towards him, heard only his quiet, low sigh as their fleshy lips found each other in a sticky, hot, wet kiss, his large hand holding her face in place, not allowing her to move away.

She pulled away from him at last, stroking his well-defined jaw with her thumb, his gaze dark and hot, his lips swollen and red from their caress.

She returned to her earlier position without a word, sinking her face into the hollow of his neck, embracing his shoulder with her hands, he breathed quietly, sliding it out of her grasp, enveloping her waist with it, pulling her close so that she could hug his chest.

The tips of his fingers traveled down her back as he took the book that lay in front of him from the table top and placed it on his thighs, clearly wanting to simultaneously read on and cover up whatever was going on in his trousers.

They stayed like this until the class began when they finally pulled away from each other, his hand quickly finding hers under the table, stroking the top of it with his thumb.

Though doubts still filled her heart, for the first time in years she felt hope.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla

[st7rnioioss]

౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆ first time

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: smut, fluff, p in v, whole lot of praising, praising kink?, kissing, loss of virginity.

a/n: alllllrirght, buckle up for a wild ride. i'll say it now and i'll say it again, i cant write smut for the love of god, i really hope this isnt disappointing LMAOOO. thanks for the requestssss, ily all so much.

౨ৎ

“Matt.. I-I’m sorry, I just don’t think I’m ready yet..” I whispered, caressing his cheek with my thumb.

Matt quickly got off me with a shy smile, laying down beside me.

“No, don’t worry about it, Y/n/n. You shouldn’t feel pressured. At all.” Matt smiled at me, pressing a kiss on my cheek, running his fingers through my hair.

Even tho Matt was very supportive, I always felt some sort of embarrassment. I know Matt has had past girlfriends, so sometimes I felt boring to him, no matter how many times Matt reassured me.

I smiled back at him, interlacing our fingers with a kiss to his lips.

-

“No, you don’t get it, Aly. We were kissing, Matt then got on top of me, and I just started panicking. It’s so embarrassing, I’m 19 and I’ve never had sex before.” I groaned, leaning back in my chair. I repeated the actions me and Matt have had the night before to her.

I was eating lunch with my best friend, Alyssa. She was basically a pro when it came to boys and stuff like that, due to a lot of experience if you may.

“Y/n, stop. I know Matt, he’s a good guy, I’m sure he understands.” Alyssa took a sip of her drink, squeezing my hand. 

“But are you ready though? Like, have you thought ‘bout it?” she asked, slightly tilting her head to 

the side. I looked up at her, nodding slowly.

“Yeah. I mean- I want to. Really want to..” I trailed off, a tiny smile creeping up on my lips as I spoke.

Yes, I had thought about it, multiple times actually. I just always started panicking because I didn’t want to do anything wrong.

“Look, Y/n/n. I’m sure you’ll know when you’re ready, and meanwhile, Matt is literally the nicest guy ever, I’m sure he doesn’t mind.”

-

I was lying on my bed with Matt, tangled up in each other's arms and blankets. A movie was playing in the background of our intense makeout session.

I don't know how that happened, but it did. It seemed so innocent at first, watching a movie on a Friday night with my boyfriend, but that somehow turned into Matt hovering over me, just like a few days ago.

Matt’s kisses trailed from my lips down my cheeks, neck, ending up by my collarbones. He looked up at me for a second.

“Is it fine if I take these off?” Matt mumbled, referring to the straps of my tank top between his fingers.

With a slow nod from me, Matt smiled back at me before sliding the straps off. Immediately, he started kissing my shoulders and neck again. I could practically feel myself getting wetter by the second. 

My mind was getting all tangled up from Matt’s big hands running down my sides, and all the kisses and hickeys that were repeatedly plastered all over my neck and collarbone.

“Matt- I think I’m ready. I mean, if you want to. Of course..” I mumbled, grabbing his chin with my free hand to make him look back up at me. He hesitated a second before speaking.

“Are you sure? Like, one hundred percent. We could just keep going like this if you want, sweetheart, I’m enjoying myself-” Matt rambled before I cut him off with a finger to his lips.

“Yep. I’m one hundred percent sure, Matt,” I giggled, slowly withdrawing my finger, allowing Matt to laugh as well. He sat up against the headboard. I could tell we were both unsure of what to say.

“So uh.. I don’t know wha-” I spoke before Matt cut me off, leaning over me again.

“Shh. You just lay back and try to relax, alright?” he spoke, helping me position myself comfortably against the bed, making sure to place a pillow behind my head.

“If there’s as much as one time you feel slightly uncomfortable, tell me to stop immediately,” he whispered, slowly sliding my tank top off my body.

I nodded nervously, shivering from the cold air hitting my bare chest. There was silence for a second, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Matt looked up with a smile, immediately continuing to untie the bow on my shorts, sliding them off my legs.

Matt must’ve been able to tell I was nervous as fuck, because right as he was about to leave me fully naked, he took his shirt off. I gently ran my hands up his shoulders, wrapping around his neck to pull him down for a kiss. 

He quickly melted into the kiss, and I could tell he was slightly nervous as well. He always acted like I was a piece of glass that could break at any moment, so he was sure to be slow and gentle with everything he did.

While kissing me, he gently laced his fingers around my panties, taking them fully off in a matter of seconds. He pulled back, getting a better view of what was in front of him. I just shifted nervously beneath him.

Matt wasted no time pulling his over pants and boxers down at once, leaning down to hover over me again.

“Tell me to stop, okay? I’ll go as slow as I can,” he spoke, close to a whisper. A smile spread across my lips which seemed to be contagious, because Matt smiled back immediately.

“Okay.. I promise I’ll tell you to stop.” I whispered back, letting a hand slip into his hair. Slowly, Matt aligned himself with me, making me wince.

As gently as he could, he pushed forward, stopping to let me adjust. Quiet moans threatened to leave my lips, my fingers instinctively tightening around his hair.

“Holy shit..” I whined in pain, squeezing my eyes shut. Matt was almost down the same path. He hadn’t had sex for a long time now, so he tried his best not to immediately start thrusting into me.

“You’re doing s- so good, fuck,” he whimpered, slowly pushing deeper inside of me. His whimper alone ignited something in me I wasn’t completely sure I’d felt before. Quickly, I glanced down, only to realize he wasn't much more than halfway inside me.

“Fuck, Matt-” I moaned as he gently pushed further. He couldn’t hold back anymore, my moans and the way I was so tight around him, making him bottom out with a gasp from me.

“Shit, you’re so tight-” he whined, pressing a few kisses to my cheeks. “You’re doing amazing, sweetheart.” he continued mumbling against my skin, completely stopping his movements to let me adjust.

The pain was slightly bearable since it slowly turned into pleasure rather than pain and stinging. After a minute or two, I grew impatient, the pain completely gone.

“Matt, you can move now. Please-” I whimpered, tugging gently on his hair that was intertwined with my hands.

I didn’t have to say that twice before he slowly pulled back, thrusting inside me again. This time, I couldn’t fight back the moans that were leaving my lips. The pleasure was immense.

“God, I can’t believe I’m the first one to do this to you. You’re doing so well, ma,” Matt groaned, gradually picking up the pace he was going at.

I let out a louder moan, making a hand fly to my mouth as he kept thrusting into me. My eyes were completely shut, head falling back against the soft pillow Matt had placed behind my head.

“Don’t do that, let me hear you. You look so pretty right now,” Matt whispered, grabbing the hand that was covering my mouth, lacing our fingers together before placing our hands beside my head.

“K-keep doing that, please,” I whined, referring to Matt’s thrusts that were picking up. He just groaned in response, doing just as I asked.

I’m sure if anyone had been home they would be able to hear us. I couldn’t keep the moans from coming, my stomach tightening up a bit.

“Matt, I think- I think I'm close..” I whimpered. Matt looked up from where our bodies connected, watching my eyes flutter open as he thrusts just a little harder and faster.

“You’re doing such a good job. Y‘sound so pretty, just for me, hm?” he whispered against my ear. I could’ve finished on the spot, his words and actions making me dizzy, so I just nodded.

“Fuck, this is exactly how I imagined it. Come on, you can finish, gorgeous,” Matt continued, one hand snaking down my torso to rub slow circles on my clit.

That alone made my legs shake weakly, finishing with a loud moan as he told me. Matt pulled out with a groan, finishing on my lower stomach.

It took a second before I completely regained my composure to look up at Matt. He looked back down at me, a smile forming on his lips. I giggled, pulling him down for a bunch of repeated kisses on his face.

“How are you feeling sweetheart?” he then pulled back, laying down beside me like a few nights prior. I turned my head to look at him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt better,” I chuckled, caressing this cheek delicately. My words made him smile, taking my hand from his cheek to hold it.

“I’m so so proud of you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

-

The following Tuesday I was out with my friend Alyssa again. I told her ‘We did it’, and she begged for more details. I gave her all of them, and she hugged me excitedly.

“And uh- Then the next day we did it again. Maybe also last night..” I whispered. Alyssa choked on her coffee, her eyebrows raising.

“What!?” she nearly yelled, making me laugh uncontrollably. “Seriously? This is crazy, just a week ago you were panicking from just talking about it. Holy shit, you guys are animals.”

We both trailed off, the rest of the day filled with laughter and giving her all the details from the other two times.

౨ৎ

a/n: alright. help, im so sorry sorry if this completely sucks ass, IM TRYING OKAY. thanks for the request againnn, keep them coming

taglist: @chrissgirlsstuff @leah-loves-lillies @toriinie @cupidzsq @lacysturniolo @iluvmattyb @ratatioulle @emma4eva @riasturns @sstvrnioloo @sweetbabydoe @elliewrites1 @its-jennarose @abbypost @chrisstopherfilmed @sturniolossss @ducksturniolo @junnniiieee07 @klaus223492 @urfavvev3lyn @vschrissturn @cicimayx @keerahsturn @sturniolololover @domaniquessidehoe @sturniolossss @orangelala @sturnioloslvtt@gwenloremain@k-l-a-w-s

[maidragoste]

Unfair

Summary: After an incident between Baelon and Aelor you ask Aemond to talk to Baelon.

I'm glad I finally finished writing this and sharing it with all of you. I hope you like it 🥰🥰

comments, reblogs, likes are always greatly appreciated 💖💖

This is part of the "The Queen and Her Husbands" universe, if you haven't read it before I'm going to make a couple of clarifications: Reader is married to Aemond and Aegon; Baelon and Aemon are the twin sons of Reader and Aemond; Aelor is Aemond's bastard son with Alys Rivers; Daeron is the son of Reader and Aegon; Jaehaera is still alive just like the dragons; people refer to Aegon (Rhaenyra's son) as Egg.

Disclaimer: English is not my mother tongue so I apologize for any mistakes.

It was not normal to see the Hand of the King running through the halls unless he was following his children or playing with them. Aemond was running for his children again, but this time because one of them had gotten hurt. One of the servants told him that there was a fight in the courtyard between the children. Aemond didn't even bother to finish listening to the woman when he ran out.

He hurried into your shared chambers. Aelor sat while the maester daubed his cheek with ointment. You found yourself holding your son's hand looking at him with pure concern while your other hand was on your stomach. Aegon was behind you, his hands caressing your back trying to bring you comfort.

"I'm fine. It doesn't hurt" Aelor said trying to reassure everyone but every time the maester touched the wound he made a face and couldn't help but squeeze your hand.

"What happened?" Aemond asked going to his son's side. He couldn't see the wound because it was covered by the ointment but from the way the ointment was on he could tell it wasn't a small cut.

"He didn't need stitches. The maester says there's a chance he doesn't have a scar" you announced making your first husband frown because you weren't telling him what he wanted to know. He was still relieved to learn that the wound wasn't bad enough to need stitches. He still remembered the pain he had to endure while the maester stitched him up after losing his eye. He didn't want his son to suffer the same pain.

"My prince, try not to get your face dirty or touch your wound these days," said the master once he finished smearing the ointment and began to pick up his medicines from the table "Tomorrow I'll put more on it" he warned as he got up.

"Thank you for your services, maester," you said and the old man nodded before leaving the room.

"What happened?" the one-eyed prince asked again, caressing the brown curls of his son. Aelor shrank back in his chair. Not because he was uncomfortable or disgusted by his father's show of affection but because he was too embarrassed to tell him what happened in the courtyard.

"Ser Fell made Aelor and Baelon fight. They were having a good fight" Aegon said, the truth was that the fight wasn't long and it was evident that Baelon had more experience but knowing that Aelor was embarrassed and always wanted to impress Aemond he decided to lie for his nephew. "Until Baelon brought him down"

"And Aelor surrendered" you continued the story. The boy looked at his feet without daring to see his father's reaction. He was a Targaryen, he should have stood up and fought but he gave up fast. "Even so, Baelon continued to attack him" Your voice was calm but your anger didn't go unnoticed by any of your husbands.

"It was an accident. He didn't listen to me" Aelor lied, always loyal to his brothers and not wanting them to get in trouble because of him. He had angered Baelon by stealing Shrykos from him.

"It wasn't an accident," both you and Aegon said determinedly. It was impossible not to have heard Aelor's screams saying that he was giving up. You will never forget the terror in your son's eyes. Worst of all, the cause of that fear was your other son. If it weren't for Aegon acting fast and holding Baelon from behind, you were sure Aelor's injuries would be worse. For a moment you panicked, imagining Aelor without one eye. What would you do? What would Aemond do? You would have to impose justice. Could you punish Baelon? You never wanted to be in that situation with any of your children.

You rubbed your stomach nervously. If this pregnancy ended well, you wanted more than anything that by the time the baby was born all her siblings would get along.

"Aemond, you must talk to Baelon" you request feeling overwhelmed by the situation. This pregnancy already had you worried. Not only that, but you also had to keep an eye on the lords and solve any problem they had in addition to raising your children.

It wasn't the first time that there was a problem with Baelon, you had already reprimanded him on more than one occasion for his deal with Aelor but he didn't seem to listen. You hoped that Aemond could do something. You had the feeling that Baelon's attitude was due to jealousy for not having a dragon. Aemond would understand him better than you, and he would know what to say to him to come to his senses.

"Of course, I'll go look for him in a minute," your husband assured, continuing to caress the boy's curls. "Are you sure you're okay?" She asked, looking at him carefully for any other injuries.

"Yes, Kepa. I am strong, this is nothing" declared Aelor, wanting to show courage in front of him.

Aemond smiled at him and kissed his forehead. "Good. Why don't you and your uncle go to the kitchens for raspberry pies?"

Aelor's eyes sparkled with excitement as she heard her favorite candy "Can I have two?"

"Well you earned it"

"Thank you Kepa!" the boy said before quickly dragging his uncle out in case his father suddenly changed her mind.

You and Aemond both smiled at Aelor's excitement. You two always wanted to see their son happy. They both missed how carefree he was before learning of his origin. Ever since Aelor found out he was a bastard now he seemed more withdrawn. He didn't like to attract attention.

"How are you?" your husband asked, approaching you and looking at you with concern. The last thing he wanted was for you to be stressed in your state. He was afraid that you would have another loss. The memory of your last pregnancy still haunted him. He didn't want to see you go through that pain again.

You took Aemond's hand and placed it on your stomach so he could feel the baby kick "The baby is fine but I'll be fine when you talk to Baelon."

"I will, I just wanted to make sure first that Aelor and you are okay," he said as he caressed your stomach feeling a little calmer when he felt the baby.

"Aemond, this can't happen again" You started to get frustrated because he didn't seem to be losing his mind like you.

"It won't happen" your husband promised but still you weren't calm. You couldn't let something like Driftmark happen. If Aemond couldn't bring Baelon to his senses then no one else in the castle could.

"I can write to Cregan Stark, I'm sure he will have no problem accepting Baelon as a pupil"

You instantly noticed how happiness disappeared from your husband's face and how he became tense. You hated being the cause of his unhappiness but you knew it was the right choice. The North would make a good man out of Baelon. You trusted that Cregan Stark wouldn't treat him differently for being a prince and he would take care not to spoil him. Baelon in the North couldn't do what he wanted, he would have to learn to respect his customs and follow his rules. Cregan could teach him that dragons weren't the only important thing in this life.

“It was just an idea to keep in mind. Please, don't be mad at me” you said caressing his face.

•••••

Baelon watched out the window as Aemon and Jaehaera flew on their dragons when he heard the door open. He turned and instantly straightened when he saw his father walk in.

He didn't expect it, he thought that his father would be comforting Aelor and it would be you who would come to scold him. A part of him was relieved to see that he was wrong. He hated to disappoint you two but his father's look didn't have the same effect as yours. He could never bear to look into your eyes for long when you scolded him because the disappointment in your eyes always made him uncomfortable.

Baelon moved, leaving more space for his father to sit next to him, but he didn't say anything. His attention returned to the dragons as he saw his twin dragon pass by, closer to the window. Daeron, his younger brother, waved at them with one hand while the other clung to Aemon's waist. If Baelon had had something within arm's reach he would have thrown it at him. It was not fair. Daeron had a dragon but he still flew as his family's companion instead of flying himself because their parents say he was still too young to have his first flight. Daeron didn't deserve a dragon. If Baelon had a dragon, he wouldn't mind their parents' prohibition, he'd still get on and fly. He would show how brave he is and he would be the best rider. They could never bring it down from the skies.

"And? Would you tell me what happened?" Asked his father making him come back to reality.

"You know what happened" Baelon grumbled looking at him with annoyance. It seemed silly to him that his father asked him to tell her about his outburst in the courtyard when it was obvious that he had already found out from his mother. He preferred that they punish him once and for all and leave him alone.

"But I want to hear it from you," Aemond said, hugging his son by the shoulders. "I want to understand what made you act like that. I know you know what you did was wrong."

His father's words only made the boy more angry.

“I didn't do anything wrong!” He instantly denied it and angrily pulled his father's arm away from him not wanting his touch. "I only made Aelor pay for stealing Shrykos from me!" he balled his hands into fists and stared at the floor.

Aemond really shouldn't be surprised that the reason for his son's attitude had to do with dragons. But he couldn't help but be disappointed at Baelon's words. It was impossible for him not to be reminded of Baela's and Rhaena's accusations that he stole Vhagar. A dragon could not be stolen. Everyone knew that the dragon chose its rider from him. He understood the pain of his son in the absence of a dragon. He understood the yearning for wanting to have his connection. He understood it better than anyone.

"Baelon, you know that a dragon chooses its rider"

The boy knew that his father was right. He wasn't stupid, he had paid attention to his lessons but he was so angry because he wasn't fair. It was the second time a dragon had rejected him. Dreamfyre seemed ready to unleash her flames until suddenly his uncle's Egg stood in front of him as he desperately shouted commands in Valyrian and pushed him to the side. Baelon burst into tears thinking his uncle would burn to death because of him, but Dreamfyre didn't do him any harm. Baelon was relieved that his uncle was still alive but another part of him wanted to scream at the injustice of him getting a dragon when everyone knew he loathed them. He tried to justify rejecting Dreamfyre by telling himself that his personality was too overwhelming for that dragon, his previous rider had been his Aunt Helaena and people said that she was too calm, and his Uncle Egg's personality was more in line with Dreamfyre.

Dreamfyre's rejection hurt him but Shrykos's was worse. Aelor was a bastard. He shouldn't have a dragon. Why would Shrykos choose Aelor over him? He has true Valyrian blood. It didn't make sense…Unless there was something wrong with him.

“Shrykos should be mine, I have the pure blood of Valyria. Aelor is a bastard and I hate him!” he declared with a red face.

"Baelon!" Aemond grabbed his shoulder and turned to face him. It wasn't the first time Baelon had heard his father so furious but he had never been the recipient of his fury. “I don't want to hear you call Aelor that way again. He is your brother, he is your family." His father's hand wasn't squeezing him but Baelon had never felt it so heavy. “We are family and as a family, we defend each other. We didn't attack each other,” he reminded him, and Baelon nodded, a lump in his throat.

"I don't hate Aelor" he admitted in a muttered voice cracking "But it's not fair that he has Shrykos, he didn't even want to go claim it! Uncle Egg didn't want a dragon either and Dreamfyre still chose him! Why can they have a dragon and I can't? What's wrong with me?" Baelon started to cry and Aemond didn't take long to hug him, feeling how his heart ached when he heard the anguish of his son.

“Baelon, there is nothing wrong with you. The only reason you don't have a dragon yet is because the one destined for you hasn't been born yet. They say your mother's dragon will soon have another litter of eggs.” Aemond declared, wiping away the boy's tears. “You'll have a dragon one day, I promise. I understand better than anyone that waiting is hard, but you have to be patient and you don't have to get mad at your siblings just for having what you want. It's not their fault that you don't have a dragon yet."

"I know," Baelon muttered, embarrassed by his attitude. "I'll go apologize to Aelor," he announced, getting down from the window ledge.

"Good. Your brother could still be in the kitchens with your uncle Aegon."

Aemond watched as his son left the room and prayed that Baelon's good attitude would last, that his son had truly reconsidered because he feared that if Baelon purposely hurt another of his brothers again you would not hesitate to send him to the North.

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[stardustoftarth]

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓 || 𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍

⇢ 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 - 18+/smut || Minors DNI || fem!reader

⇢ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 - 4.1k (I got a bit carried away with this one)

⇢ 𝐀/𝐍 - Haven't been able to get this smug lil man out of my head since the finale. I thought I was going to be a Harwin girl all the way, yet here I am writing for Aemond first. Absolutely used Alys Rivers as inspiration while writing this - I adore her.

Huge shout out to my incredible beta reader @larys-strong, thank you for putting up with my antics and my asoiaf/hotd obsession. That being said I haven't written in a while (especially smut), so please be kind with my takes. Any feedback is very much appreciated! εïз

𝐀 = 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 (𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱)

 ღ┆ Aemond doesn’t have the most dutiful bedside manner when you first start sleeping together. He’s not used to having someone else to care for - typically only concerned about his own pleasure. But as he begins to realize just how much he cares for you that will all change. 

ღ┆ Placing soft kisses over any bruises he’s inflicted - silently apologizing for any lingering pain he’s caused. Rare moments of tenderness from a man with a reserved, serious demeanor.

ღ┆ Finding solace in your embrace - he won’t care to admit it out loud but his favorite moments are those spent held in your arms. Head resting comfortably on your chest while you run your fingers through his long hair - soothing away his worries.

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𝐁 = 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 (𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫’𝐬)

ღ┆ Aemond’s quite aware of his good looks, even with his scarred face. Body lean and muscled after years of sword training - a fine tuned instrument for battle. He’s quite fond of his hands, loving how deft and nimble they are while wielding his dagger. Or when buried deep between your legs working at your center.

ღ┆ Your body is like a sacred temple to him - one he savors exploring over and over. Discovering every single piece you have to offer and committing each part to memory. He’s particularly fond of your breasts. How full they look pressed in your tight dresses, spilling out with each breath taken. How they feel when he has you in his hands, soft and supple. The sounds you make when he takes one in his mouth, flicking the raised nub with his tongue.

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𝐂 = 𝐂𝐮𝐦 (𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐮𝐦, 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲)

ღ┆ Loves marking you with his cum. How it looks pooling on your stomach, dripping down your thighs, shooting onto your face - his possessive nature is to thank for that. Loves seeing you eager and wanting for him, it triggers something primal deep within him. 

ღ┆ At first he will fight against every instinct he has to keep from finishing in you. The burdens of his royal blood are a constant reminder of his responsibilities and expectations. A bastard child is not something he’d particularly wish to bring into the world. It will take some reassurance but he’ll eventually see that you’re committed to him and willing to take that risk - moon tea is only one call away after all.

ღ┆ Without question he’s going to work at you until you’re fully dripping. He gets such satisfaction from knowing he’s the one causing your pleasure. Teasing you if you get worked up too quickly, secretly loving how turned on you get from him.

ღ┆ “Someone was eager for me tonight, hmm?”

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𝐃 = 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 (𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲, 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐬)

ღ┆ He might secretly deny it but he enjoys being dominated by you. Relinquishing any sort of control that was once his while you have your way with him. Vocalizing what you’re planning on doing to him - how you’re going to treat him and have your way with him. He’s never quite as spent as he is on the nights you take the lead.

ღ┆ Fantasizes about taking you in the dragon pit. It’s a place of power to him and he loves the thought of pleasuring you up against one of the tall stone pillars - torches casting light over your bodies as they flicker. The danger involved only adding to the sense of urgency felt by the both of you.

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𝐄 = 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲? 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡��𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠?)

ღ┆ Experienced enough to know what he’s doing, but he’s had a relatively few number of previous partners - and even fewer true romantic relationships. He’s usually more content with getting himself off and not having to worry about needless chatting or feelings that tend to surface with relationships. He desires someone more independent - not wanting to be bothered with fickle women who are only interested in him for his royal blood.

ღ┆ That being said he would be incredibly turned on if you took control in the bedroom. The idea of being with someone who has more experience than him excites him. Someone who’s not afraid to take charge and knows exactly what it is she wants from him. He’d be happy to let you take the reins every once in a while.

ღ┆ "You always fuck me so good. You ought to be proud to be my girl."

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𝐅 = 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠)

ღ┆ Cowgirl - Nothing is sexier to him than getting to watch you ride him and chase your own pleasure on his cock. Your thighs would fill his hands as he held onto you, occasionally running up your front to grab your breasts while you rode him. He’d shift his grip to your hips when he got close, not being able to help himself from thrusting up into you while pulling you down to meet him.

ღ┆ Doggy-style - When he’s feeling more dominant he’ll prefer this. Getting a front row view of your ass while he pounds into you from behind - his hand snaking around your front to play with your clit as he works. In a rush he’d take you over a dresser or table, your skirts hastily hiked up around your waist - allowing him immediate access. 

ღ┆ Blow Job - Plain and simple - Aemond loves getting his dick sucked by you. The expert way your hand works at him before bringing yourself to your knees in front of him. Giving small, teasing licks to the tip while you look up at him from beneath your lashes. Tease him like that long enough and he may just lose restraint and take matters into his own hands. Hand knotting in your hair as he fucks your eager mouth.

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𝐆 = 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐲 (𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭? 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬? 𝐞𝐭𝐜.)

ღ┆ Quite serious for the most part - Aemond is an intense lover. Making love to you is something he takes very seriously. He’s a very passionate man and when he gets time alone with you he wants to express that to you. He can be a bit teasing at times if the situation permits it, but he’s always 100% focused on the task at hand. 

ღ┆ If you’re feeling a bit playful he might indulge you, especially if alcohol was had beforehand. But afterwards you can usually get him to loosen up and let his guard down. He’ll recount the humorous things that happened earlier in the day - complaining about the lords and ladies of the court. 

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𝐇 = 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐫 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲? 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐬? 𝐞𝐭𝐜.)

ღ┆ He’s Targaryen royalty, he’s going to be well groomed and cleanly. He has a fine trail of hair on his otherwise smooth abdomen leading down to his crotch. Nothing too wild, he keeps himself neatly groomed.

ღ┆ In the midst of your passions you often find yourself reaching up to undo the tie in his hair - fingers running through his long strands holding him to you, your hand knotted securely at the back of his head. His long blond hair tickling you as it drapes over your neck and chest.

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𝐈 = 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭? 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭)

ღ┆ Getting Aemond to vocalize his feelings for you can be difficult at first - but that’s not to say that he isn’t interested. As you learn more about each other you’ll find that what first started out as physical attraction has shifted into something more. What was once an outlet for lustful passion now a deep connection that both of you have come to seek comfort in.

ღ┆ His love towards you is shown in the light kisses he places over your face and neck. When he’s especially worked up words will evade him and his love will be expressed in soft grunts and pants in your ear. Praising your body with his hands as they roam and seek to map every square inch of you.

ღ┆ One of the more intimate things you’ve had transpire is the removal of his eyepatch when you’re together - a vulnerability he allows with you after some time together. There’s a gentle tenderness shared between the both of you the first time you reach up and unlace the cover. His brief hesitation before submitting to your touch a reminder of the pain he still holds - though the wound has long since healed.

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𝐉 = 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟𝐟 (𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧)

ღ┆ After first meeting you he found his thoughts drifting ever more often to those of you - unable to keep his thoughts away from those of you and your body. Cursing his imagination for sabotaging his usual composure.

ღ┆ Eventually those thoughts started creeping in while he took care of his needs. The feel of your sweet lips on his, the swell of your breasts filling his hands as he holds you, the sounds you’d make as he grazed your wet center.

ღ┆Loves thinking about your hand easing between your legs working on yourself while thoughts of him flood your mind. How slick and wet your hand would feel as you writhe beneath your own touch. On occasion he’ll ask you to touch yourself while he watches - his intense gaze finding yours for a moment of shared passion.

ღ┆ "You drive me so crazy when you're like this, so needy."

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𝐊 = 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤 (𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬)

ღ┆ Praise kink - An obvious one - after a lifetime of being put down even the smallest amount of praise will have this man eating out of the palm of your hand. Tell him how good he feels inside you - how big he is and how well he fucks you. Encouraging words like this will leave him weak, and he’ll finish relatively quickly if you’re not careful.

ღ┆ Edging - Be prepared for what he has in store. Knowing you desire him and want him is the biggest turn on for Aemond. The sweet sound of your voice begging for him while he repeatedly denies you release. He’s going to be sure to work you until you’re completely spent - only allowing you to finish once he’s had his fill of your pleading.

ღ┆ Size Kink - Not so much a kink he has, but rather one he looks for in a partner. Something about hearing you express how full you make him feel, how large he is, drives him mad. Vocalizing how he makes you feel also plays into that aforementioned praise kink.

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𝐋 = 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨)

ღ┆ Nothing beats the intimacy of his chambers. Bending you over a table, a lazy fuck on the couch, the possibilities are endless. 

ღ┆ He’s known to take you wherever you happen to be when the moment arises. In a secluded corridor that someone (hopefully) won’t walk down. Hastily lifting your skirts and taking you right there in the hall. Or in the training grounds when everyone else has gone inside for the evening and you search him out. Dirt soiling your dress as he lays you down, your attempts at moving to a more private area thwarted.

ღ┆ Once your relationship is more serious he’ll take you for rides on Vhagar. Landing the two of you in some secluded oasis, perfect for a day spent in your embrace.

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𝐌 = 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐨𝐧, 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠)

ღ┆ Praise! Be vocal about what he’s making you feel. Tell him how good he is at fucking you - he is never going to get tired of it. There is little he isn’t willing to do if you’re begging him for it. Perhaps it’s something as simple as him being full of himself or more likely, it plays on his need to be wanted by someone - to be accepted for who he is.

ღ┆ Just seeing your figure throughout the day, knowing you’ll be crawling into his bed at night. Your loud moans echoing off the walls as he takes you - hands grasping at his shoulders pulling him to you. And if you decide to get on top and take things into your own hands? He’ll be praying he doesn’t finish too quick with all you have in store for him.

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𝐍 = 𝐍𝐨 (𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐝𝐨, 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐬)

ღ┆ Degradation - Doesn’t do well with being degraded or harshly teased. A lifetime of jokes at his expense has taken its toll on him and he tends to shut down if it’s severe enough. However, he’d be open to degrading you if that’s something you’re into or comfortable with.

ღ┆ Threesome/Orgies - Aemond wouldn’t be comfortable sharing you with others - at least not when he isn’t the one pleasuring you. The thought of someone else having the privilege to give you pleasure wouldn’t sit well with him. He would need you to be his completely.

ღ┆ Overall he would be willing to try anything at least once if you expressed an interest in it. Anything that has the possibility of bringing you more pleasure is something he’s open to trying.

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𝐎 = 𝐎𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.)

ღ┆ Aemond’s a bit greedy and any occasion you offer your mouth to him he will graciously accept. Enjoying the power he feels when you are on your knees before him - worshiping him in a moment of silent devotion.

ღ┆ Slick with precum before you’ve even put your mouth to him, stroking him with skilled hands that know how to work him just the way he likes. His hands knotting in your hair when he’s close - holding you in place as he finishes with stuttered thrusts into your mouth. At times he’ll pull out to finish himself on your face, eyes watching his seed roll down over you.

ღ┆ Though he typically prefers to receive that’s not to say he wouldn’t return the favor for you as well. He’s not one to forget debts owed so be prepared for him to deliver in full. Mouth planting light kisses down your chest and stomach as he works his way down your body. His face finding your center - tongue working at your swollen nub with a steady, constant pressure that leaves you pressing into him, begging him for more.

ღ┆ "Hmmm, you taste so good on my tongue. And all this just for me?"

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𝐏 = 𝐏𝐚𝐜𝐞 (𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡? 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥? 𝐞𝐭𝐜.)

ღ┆ If he had a stressful day be prepared for fast and rough - using your body to relieve the tension that’s built up. He’d make his way to your room in search of respite - finding safe harbor in your body for the evening. Nights like these almost always end with you both going multiple rounds, unable to help yourselves or keep your hands from one another.

ღ┆ When less urgency is demanded your sessions can be long and drawn out - each of you taking your time in exploring the other. Slow and sensual kisses. Hands gliding over each other languidly in long, drawn out grazes that have you aching for more. Aemond’s slow, deep thrusts draw out your pleasure and leave you clinging to him, holding him as close as your bodies will allow.

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𝐐 = 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞 (𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.)

ღ┆ Often. The two of you are insatiable. Anytime you’re able to find a few fleeting moments alone your hands are instinctively reaching out for each other. Fingers lazily hooking together as you hurry through the halls in search of a hidden alcove. Sultry glances passing between the both of you, anticipating what’s to come. Hastily unhooking buttons, carelessly throwing pieces of clothing down in your wake.

ღ┆ Aemond has no regard for privacy. The thought of someone catching you two in the throes of passion is both a turn on and an encouragement. He wants others to know you’re his and what better way than by fucking you into the wall in hopes someone catches a glimpse. Your hand clamped over your mouth, stifling the moans that threaten to spill from your lips.

ღ┆ “Hush now, don’t want to give away our nice little spot do we?”

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𝐑 = 𝐑𝐢𝐬𝐤 (𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭? 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐬? 𝐞𝐭𝐜.)

ღ┆ Aemond the Kinslayer, rider of Vhagar, a risk taker? Risk taking is all this man knows. If there’s something you’d like to try he’s willing to give it a go. Experimentation and risk taking go hand in hand for him. If you have any kinks that you want to try out he’s all for it - anything that has a possibility of bringing you more pleasure is worthwhile for him.

ღ┆ Aemond’s not one for modesty - he enjoys showing off his possessions and by association includes you. He’s particularly fond of having his way with you in compromising positions, secretly hoping that someone finds you in the thralls of passion. Atop a balcony overlooking King’s Landing, behind a long forgotten tapestry - all are fair game with him.

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𝐒 = 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐠𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫? 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭?)

ღ┆ Man has stamina for days. After years of training with a sword his endurance would be unparalleled. Blood of the dragon flows through his veins - there is a fire in him that’s ignited when he’s with you. One that burns only hotter with each moment you spend entwined.

ღ┆ After a particularly testing day he’d take you swiftly and be relentless in his strokes. Your legs shaking from exertion, bodies tangled together in the aftermath of your passions. Never pausing for too long before crawling back to indulge himself in you once again.

ღ┆ He finishes embarrassingly quick when your mouth is on him. After so long together you know how to work him in just the right way.

ღ┆ "It's going to be a short night if you keep that up. Gods."

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𝐓 = 𝐓𝐨𝐲𝐬 (𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐲𝐬? 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦? 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬?)

ღ┆ Depending on what toys exist in the world of Westeros, Aemond would be game to using them. Once your relationship blossoms into something more than just physical attraction the idea of using toys would become a bit more intriguing to him.

ღ┆ Using restraints to tie your hands back as he as he teases you - denying you the release you so desperately crave. Hands involuntarily grasping at the air in search of some sort of footing as he works you. He loves having control of you in this position - blissed out and begging for any kind of salvation from his teasing.

ღ┆ A silky blindfold tied around your eyes, leaving you entirely at his mercy. The deprivation of your sight enhances your other senses and causes even the lightest of touches to feel as if flames are left on your skin in their wake. At times he’ll take it even further, using hot wax to make those feelings of flames ever closer to reality.

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𝐔 = 𝐔𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞)

ღ┆ In public he’d whisper little jokes knowing that only you could hear him. Always finding the perfect insult to hurl at some unknowing recipient. Hoping to find something that would work in catching you off guard and crack your resolve in front of others.

ღ┆ But oh come ON, you just know he would be absolutely brutal with his teasing behind closed doors. We all know this man loves to instigate and in the bedroom he'd be no different. Quite possibly worse.

ღ┆ Relentless with his little quips, saying just about anything to see you flustered and blushing. Pushing you to your limit over and over to see you beg him for sweet release, not even minding how needy you sound. Working himself up while edging you over and over until you can't think straight you're so pent up. 

ღ┆ "Tell me what it is you want. I want to hear you beg for it. I want you to beg for me."

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𝐕 = 𝐕𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐞 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.)

ღ┆ He’s usually pretty quiet and controlled, able to maintain his composure through most of your time together. As he gets closer and his resolve weakens he would start to let a few moans slip. Groaning into your ear as he finishes - your name a silent prayer released from his lips.

ღ┆ When you’re on top he’ll be at his most vocal - expressing his adoration for you while you’re in full view of him. If you work him especially well you can elicit more of those delicious sounds from his lips. His usual composed composition gone as you use his body to chase your own high.

ღ┆ Prefers to hear you and the gasps and sighs of pleasure that fall from your lips. Enjoys having you beg for him - drawing out those sweet words of desire from your lips. They give him the reassurance he seeks that you’re his and his alone. He’s a simple man, he needs to be needed and he wants others to know he’s the source of your pleasure.

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𝐖 = 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝 (𝐚 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫)

ღ┆ You first catch Aemond’s eye while he is praticing on the training grounds. Silently watching from the sidelines as he hones his skills with the sword. His usual focus shattered as his thoughts were drawn back to your mysterious figure.

ღ┆ Not one known for excessive gift giving, Aemond will surprise you one evening with a blue sapphire necklace that mirrors his own. He’ll expect you to wear it with pride - a symbol of his devotion to you. What he won’t expect however, is to find you waiting for him one night dressed only in that very symbol of devotion.

ღ┆ When Aemond grows restless to flee his mundane duties of castle life he’ll ask you to join him in search of a short moment of respite. Together on Vhagar’s back you’ll fly over Westeros - getting a rare view of the country that only few have ever glimpsed with their own eyes.

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𝐗 = 𝐗-𝐫𝐚𝐲 (𝐥𝐞𝐭’𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬)

ღ┆ It’s big. He has the presence of a man who is packing heat. Someone as bold and cocky as he is needs to have the proof to back it up. Perhaps more importantly is the fact that he knows how to use what he has. 

ღ┆ Wants to hear you say how big he is, how full he makes you feel when he’s inside you, how good he fucks you. Again, he wants all the possible praise you can give him and more.

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𝐘 = 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞?)

ღ┆ Aemond knows you have responsibilities as does he, but he can’t help his mind from wandering throughout the more dull parts of his day. Wishing he were back in his chambers alone with you to do as he pleased. Thoughts of how he’d fuck you filling his head. If duty keeps you away from each other he’s ready the moment he gets you alone. He’s never going to say no if you’re willing.

ღ┆ If you’re ever traveling or away from him for extended periods of time he expects you to pleasure yourself while thinking of him - a thought that he uses as fuel for himself in return. The thought of you quietly pleasuring yourself with his name on your lips has him straining in his pants.

ღ┆ “Promise me you’ll remember who brought you this pleasure. Whose hands held you while you shook and how good it felt to be fucked by me.”

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𝐙 = 𝐙𝐳𝐳 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬)

ღ┆ Depends on the events of the day honestly. After a long day seeing to his duties he’s more prone to falling asleep shortly after - his body truly spent from physical exertion with you. He’d do everything in his power to fight against sleep that threatened to take him. To have one moment more gazing into your eyes, feel your sweet, soft comforting caresses graze his cheek while your fingers run through his long hair.

ღ┆ On the rare occasion you find yourselves with more time to relax, you’d enjoy each other's company further. This is when Aemond is at his most vulnerable in front of you. These fleeting moments before sleep takes him and you’re free to inquire about his past or any troubles he might have. He’ll divulge anything you ask of him during this time - intimate questions regarding his past and childhood or your curiosities of dragons.

ღ┆ “Want to hear how a boy of only ten was able to claim the eldest remaining dragon do you?”

[darlingofvalyria]

❝I have these two great friends called Birth and Control.❞

part 06 | it's called a love bug, lovebug

chapter summary:

[ Sunday dinners are actually made for confessions. As Alicent braves it with a wine and a blush, you brave it too. With a boy and a view. ]

[ 2,963 ] [ series masterlist ] |best friend's brother!aemond targaryen x f!reader, ft. cregan stark x f!reader & aemond targaryen x alys rivers,

contains— angst - hurt/minimal comfort(?) - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— alexa play it's all coming back to me now by celine dion. it might read a little stilted, i struggled a bit with this chapter as i wrote it in different times. ps. i didn't translate aemond's valyrian with intention. hope it still works? comment, reblog & like at will, mwa ♡

You had never heard of a more reverbrating sound than Helaena's smack to a poor, traumatised Daeron. "You toe licking, armpit looking, ugly garbage can!" Healeana shrieked, promptly dragging her youngest brother further away as you and Aemond scurried deeper into the safety of the darkness and shame, folded defensively onto one another, laughing your asses off.

"Oh my god," you exhale. "I am never going leaving this maze. I am going to live here, eating brambles and shit, and die here. Leave me now and prevail, Aemond. I will be fine. I'll haunt you in two to three business days."

Aemond chuckles from below you, unseen from your gaze, the mesmerised adoration he held as he can still feel his lips tingling from your desperation, still feel the curves of your body, the soft skin— he clears his throat, holding you steady by your hips before moving around until he's hovering over you as you adjusted your dress, eyes fluttering his with pressed lips trying not to laugh.

"I have a feeling dinner is ready."

"I also have a feeling your mother and grandfather knew exactly what we were doing minutes before and I fear I'd rather die here than face that."

He laughs, offering his hand and you take it regardless. "Then my mother would be glad. She didn't exactly feel the new bliss of couples between us."

You scoff. "Only because you treated me like you were cosplaying a Frost Giant." At his raised eyebrow and choked, surprised laugh, you blush. "Oh, get off with it. Your sister really likes the idea of Jotun!Loki and I am not one to kinkshame."

He strangles a laugh, peeling stray twigs from your hair. "I wouldn't dare assume. Let's go eat."

You tighten your hold on his hand, worry crescent on your forehead that Aemond straightens. "And talk?" As good as that felt, as perfect as puzzles sliding in together, you were past the age where burrowing it deep with the good parts and ignoring the pressing talks that need to be addressed.

And Aemond deserved better than that at least.

"Okay." He nods, swallowing. "Later, please."

"Okay." You try and reassure him with a smile and that seems to appease him, if a little.

Once Aegon had made five jokes concerning Daeron's loud rant— he was promptly shut up by his sister smacking him in the back of the head as soon as their mother was fretting in the kitchen and their grandfather's phone pinging for his attention, spoon on his mouth that might have been a medical nightmare — dinner went smoothly.

Daeron had successfully refused to look at your general direction, or his brother, or both since you sat together, churlish in giggles, in chatter and light arguments. Aemond kept taking the nicely marinated baby potatoes on his plate to yours once you finished up your own, and exchanged it with shuffling green beans to his plate because he loves them— it's nice.

It's more than nice. It's everything you could hope for when you think about dinner with your boyfriend's family. It's a softened thought that brews to yearning. You want this. You want be sat next to Aemond like this again, making jokes, piling food onto each other's plate, ribbing with his brother until he blushed then standing up against him when it got too far— seeing the smile he sends your way, endearing, loving, and for a moment, for this one realised moment built on lies and chuckle-fuckery ease, you let yourself indulge.

You joke about spoon feeding him dessert and blush as he envelops his soft lips over the spoon, Daeron and Aegon mimicking gags while Alicent is blushing, unable to stop a girlish giggle, a sound so surprised to her own person that she hiccups.

You are with him and you give yourself strength to break his heart.

Dinner finishes off with a lazy flick, Alicent and his father descending into business talks that usually included Aemond and though you tell him you can go hang out with Helaena— Daeron and Aegon deciding on playing The Last of Us in the game room because Aegon said he needed a good cry but also to shoot things — Aemond who had taken your hand sometime ago and has been brushing his thumb over your knuckles in a soothing gesture, implores you with a look.

You swallow and give a nod, trying for another smile that fails, noticing the moment Aemond sees it fail, his brow curling, lips pursing but doesn't say anything.

As he moves to lead, he pauses, turning back to you. "Where—?"

"Your room?"

Just as he nods, Alicent's soft and embarrassed, "Keep the door open, please," pulls you both to a blushing stop.

Otto— and Helaena rifling through ice cream in the kitchen — crow simultaneous, "Alicent," and "Mom!" as Alicent raises both her hands, the wine in her right sloshing. Though she is pink-cheeked, she maintains eye contact with her son while Aemond is struggling.

"I know you're old and smart enough, young man, and you are such a lovely girl," Alicent says to you, "and I would no doubt adore the grandchildren you will provide me—"

"Oh my gods," you stifle your giggles as Aemond makes a discordant sound in the back of his throat, like a cat hacking a saw. Otto is laughing into his wine while Helaena is making gagging noises in the background.

"— but I hope to have them when Aemond's at least graduated, so that he can provide well for you." Alicent nods, blinking. You can tell that the wine is catching up to her. "He's a good boy so I'm sure he'll do right by you. But I at least want you both to be married, of course, I would prefer if Aegon or Helaena got married first but—"

"— and that's my cue to stage left, folks," Helaena says, making a face as she grabs the entire tub of cookies and cream. "If anyone needs me, I'm in my room trying to find a husband so my baby brother can get married, gods forbid he carries on with bastards from his beautiful girlfriend— whomst, by the way, is my best friend, dunno how we're forgetting my credit in all of this."

Aemond shakes his head. "They're not sleeping here, mom, and providing you grandchildren is not in my agenda." He tugs your hand, smirking as he pulls you close only to whisper playfully, "Not tonight at least."

You shiver, laughing under your breath. "I dunno if you know this, but I have these two great friends called Birth and Control."

He breaks into a laugh and that, at least, eases the tension until you round up in his room, trying to give Helaena a meaningful look but you don't think she understands it with how she salutes you with her spoon, winking audaciously.

"Here." Aemond flicks the light on and his childhood bedroom brings a smile to your face. It's cerebral, the faint blue of his textured wallpaper, the perfectly lined books, even the framed achievements. But there's also the Oasis poster, the little figurines that you know is part of some Old Valyrian battle replica he collected when he was younger, even his old fencing gear and an exact photo of it alongside his club master, his grandfather, and family friend, Criston Cole.

"It's been a while since I've been here," you tease lightly. "It's kind of funny of your mom to think I'd be the first hot girl to christen your childhood bed."

He hums, turning away as he closes the door. When he turns back, he's rolled back his bottom lip between his teeth as he looks at you with sincerity.

"It wouldn't be much of a competition to beat. You were the first hot girl I'd ever got inside my room."

"Ahh. Right. Teasing you before your growth spurt was the highlight of my week."

Aemond let out an aggressive sigh as you laugh. "I was a senior in high school when I met you, riña, this is getting ridiculous. Borderline paedophilic since I had you moaning an hour ago."

You heave, slapping his arm. "Okay, stop, you made it weird now. Gross. Eugh."

"Promise you'll stop now?"

"Fine, I promise."

An awkwardness settles before Aemond nods at the double French doors. "Wanna talk on the patio? You've always liked my room's view than Lae's."

"Yeah," you grin.  "'Cos you got the only view of the lake."

"You can barely see it with the trees. And this darkness." Reason out all he wants, but he opens the door for you, and the cool air is crisp and nice against your warm skin.

You hold out on the ledge, squinting your eyes so you can see peeks of luminous bounce of the calm lake between dark sways of forest. Once in a while, it glitters and glimmers, making itself known.

"It isn't fully true though."

"What is?" Aemond fixes his elbows, warmth pressed against yours as he stares at a fixed point of nowhere. But you can feel his tension, feel his questions he's trying to be patient to keep in. You're glad for it. Grateful. Because it gives you enough courage to confess.

"I hung out in your room because I liked hanging out with you," you admit. "Teasing you was the highlight of my day."

"Gee. Thanks."

"I was more surprised you kept letting me hang out with you when I did nothing but annoy you."

"Why do you think that is, ñuha riña?" he asks softly.

"Because you're sweet?"

The way he's looking at you... it makes you breatheless. Especially when he moves to turn fully toward you, taking you by your elbows, and you close your eyes when he leans in expecting his mouth on you, your heart dancing in the palm of his hand because it feels so, so easy to trust Aemond with it, instead he presses his lips underneath your eye, nuzzling against your nose. It shatters and remakes your heart, making you hold onto his shirt for some semblance of comfort.

"Because I've always liked you," he whispers against your skin as if it's his best kept secret. "Because I'm weak when it comes to you. Because you," he breathes against your mouth, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and giving it a tug, "make it easy to want you."

A weak laugh escapes your lips and his mouth follows the sound as if he wants to swallow it, but you press a palm to his chest. He growls.

"Easy there, tiger, that didn't sound much like a compliment."

He pulls back, holding your face. "Sorry, shit, I didn't mean— I'm not good at this. I meant... you're unattainable. Not just as Helaena's best friend but... you're cool, you're fucking gorgeous and incredibly hilarious."

"Ñuha jorrāelagon." He breathes care into the word. The word is lost on me and I force my brain to pocket it like a love letter so I can search it up. "I never thought I could be here, touching you like this." Without warning, he moulds his lips to yours in a harsh, deep kiss. It's quick but it leaves you breathless, his voice coming up ragged. "Kiss you like this. It feels like I'm in a dream and I'm struggling to let go of it. So a while ago... after..."

You nod, pressing your forehead against his, unable to look at him in the eye. You focus on touching him, your hands sliding down, making him shiver when you go underneath his shirt, skating his side until you warm your cool fingers with his spine.

"That's the thing, Aemy," you whisper. "In your head, by your words, I'm always a version to you."

 He calls your name, leaning back and you're forced to see the confusion on his face.

"Helaena's best friend. Past that, an unattainable crush. Now a fake girlfriend. Someone you use to get Alys' attention, and who better than the unattainable crush? It's a pedestal, Aemy."

"It's not like that, that was a bad, convoluted—"

"But it's the truth, it's how I feel. And though that sucks, I understand." You take his hands as you step back and he's frowning harder, the lines deepen and his jaw is tight. "I knew what I was getting into, you know? But things change because I've changed."

 "It's Cregan, isn't it?" he snarls, tugging his hands away.

"Oh, you jealous idiot, it's you! We've gone over this, you incredible dumbass!"

"Me? How the hell is this about—"

"— because I love you!" you shout. Then stop, inhale. Blink. Aemond copies it. It's almost hilarious. "Or I know I can be."

He works his jaw, turning away. "I don't understand."

"Okay, here it is." You inhale. "Just listen and breathe for a second, okay? Okay? Don't turn away from me." You pull him back by his chin, smiling faintly at the pout you form. "Say you understand."

He sighs, taking your hand. "Yes, I understand."

"I can't compete with someone you've loved for so long," you start softly, staring at your conjoined hands wondering if this is the last time you'll get to hold him like this. "Without you showing you can love me for more than that. I can't compete with your own ideal happy ending if I'm not part of it. I won't. I refuse." Your smile is wry, it's heartbreak and it's strings. You wish you had the energy to scream, to act like a brat and demand his heart, his promises in gold-ink and pink-veined hue. It's what your heart wants.

But you're of big age. You've seen love in its spaces, how it takes root in people, how it affects the world around you.

And you know you cannot love him if he does not make the effort to love you in the same way.

Your heart is in your throat but the words come out anyway. "Because I love you, Aemy. And I know I can fight for you. I can fight for what we have. I can wake up tomorrow and choose to love you with the same degree, if not fiercer, if I could. And I could do that again and again. That's how love works. You have to wake up tomorrow, see me, and choose to love me all over again."

You smile gently, sadly. "I can't allow myself to be loved in halves. I've done that before, I'm not doing it again. Not even for you."

You bring yourself on your tip toes— damn tall, beautiful rat bastard — and brush your lips on the corner of his. His eye closed. "I'm not going to pressure you for an answer. Alys was... Alys is a big part of what you know is love, and I respect that. I understand that it'll be hard, but I need to know if you're willing to let go of it for me. Because I can promise you I can love you. But I won't. Not without assurance that you can try for me."

"What are you asking me?" he asks softly, straightening. There's a hard line going into his body, like a dutiful student given an assignment.

"I'm asking you to think if you can see past the little statue you've made of me. See me breathing. Alive, just like this." You press a hand to his face and retrieve it back before he can hold it. He shots you a look of betrayal. "I'm going home with Hel. You know how to message me, okay? Bye, dōna zaldrīzes."sweet dragon.

His eye flick upward, shock and heartbreak and confusion moulds and twists into such a beautiful blue, mouth agape trying to find words he can't find— and you smile wryly, turning away and leaving.

You get to Helaena's door quick, knocking soon after.

"Hmph!"

 "You're either getting choked by a robber or masturbating, and really Hel, I need you to make two grunts to tell me the former so I can bust down the door because I don't want to see you bust a—"

The door swings wide, Helaena's face in a comical irritation.

"That is so fucked up, I hope you know— hey, hey." Her irritation sweeps into a frown as you fail to contain your watery eyes. "What happened? What's wrong? What did Aemond do? Oh, that little twerp—"

"— it's not him, it's not him, chill, I just wanna go home, yeah? Get our cakes and go, please?"

Hel's frown deepens, eyes darting back to Aemond's door.

"Please, Helaena," you beg. "I'll tell you when we get home. I'll make us special drinks."

She takes your hand, determination wound tight with concern. "Sure thing, babe. Let's go."

When you make your hasty departure to her grandfather of all of them, Alicent already in bed and the other boys still in the gaming room, cakes in hand, you tow over Helaena's baby blue buggy— she leans over at you with a hand on the ignition, whispering as if she was afraid, "You— are you meeting Cregan tonight? After, I mean." Her eyes widen. "I'm not judging, I'd never—"

"No, no, I understand. You'd never judge me for that, I know. But no. Just you and me tonight."

She smiles softly. It's not like Aemond's but they don't look that apart that it still stings. "Love you."

"Love you too, lovebug."

Loving Helaena isn't hard.

Just as you know loving Aemond wouldn't be, despite it all. But it isn't you that has issues that needs handling, and you've put everything in his court now.

And yet you can't deny your hope.

TAGGED: @snowprincesa1 @gemini-mama @fan-goddess @snh96 @valeskafics @opheliaas-stuff @tempo-rary-fix @fantasticpeaceharmony @diannnnsss @iamavailablesstuff @spinachtz @at-a-rax-ia @bespinnn @tsujifreya @moonlightfoxx @kemillyfreitas @joyouart @bananzaa @honey-on-mars @alexa4040 @cinnamonbambii @wintrr13 @wxb-slingrr @astroswift @queenofshinigamis @helaenaluvr @kaetastic @jxdgodfrey @laniii-on-your-left @watercolorskyy @microwaveallthedemons @kazuyatokue @herfantastyworldd @averyyreads @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bellstwd @jiminie-08 @ttkttt @nockerin @backyardfolklore @random-ocity @hc-geralt-23 @vendettasblog @cicaspair418 @malynn @anehkael @schadenfreude-and-sarcasm @honey132

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Got tagged for several sentence Sunday by @bigfootsmom @eowon @rewritetheending @eddiebabygirldiaz @devirnis @thewolvesof1998 @lover-of-mine and @daffi-990, as well as a lot of people for a lot of tag games all week. I was out of town and didn’t get the chance to respond, but I did scribble out this little fic in hotel rooms across the state. Tagging @shitouttabuck @malewifediaz @homerforsure @jeeyuns @rogerzsteven @wildlife4life if you have seven, or several, or, uh, however many sentences this is you’d like to share!

This isn’t the first and only time Eddie has found himself watching Buck’s hands. It's the variety, maybe, in how many ways he’s good with them that’s so captivating. Work, obviously, was the first time he’d noticed. Buck — and Eddie smiles whenever he thinks about it, now — had made himself so loud and blustery when they’d met. Eddie hadn’t doubted Bobby’s assessment that the man was a good firefighter, but he figured he was a heavy rescue kind of a guy, here for his brawn, someone to point at danger to terminator his way through it. Then, he’d held a box out for a bomb so steadily it saved all their lives; then, his grip was strong and sure in a collapsing hotel; then, on every call, no matter what, he moved with absolute confidence whether he was tying a perfect hitch knot or offering a hand to help a frightened vic to their feet. He’s good, he’s good at his job, he’s good with his hands, and still even years later Eddie has to remind himself to pay attention to his own task when Buck is at his side with a kind smile and reassuring chatter as his hands work carefully away.

The second place he’d noticed was with Chris. Buck understands lego diagrams that look like rocket science to Eddie, Buck wasn’t overseas or parenting a young child and so has played video games newer than Grand Theft Auto on a hand me down 360 sometime before 2010. He’s right there with the kid, always ready to advise on a tricky part of the diagram or give pointers for a difficult level, always ready to catch and support and comfort and protect, but the thing Eddie realized pretty quickly is how often he doesn’t do these things. Buck, from the beginning, had complete confidence in Christopher being able to figure out anything he puts his mind to. He doesn’t coddle, he never gets impatient and does something for him to get it done quicker. He’s just there to hand him the next requested lego piece with the same sort of awed smile Eddie knows is reflected on his own face when he watches his son.

Then, probably the kitchen. Eddie’s a better cook than he used to be, but he’d still rather watch Buck prepare food, diligently studying his hand on a knife or how he flips a pancake. When Eddie was a child and his abuela still lived in Texas he would watch her cook, how she would pour all her love and care for all of them into the meal, and Buck is just the same. Seeing him try the same dish over and over to get it just right makes Eddie wonder how anyone could ever think of this man as reckless, thoughtless. Being handed a plate by Buck is to be cherished in a way Eddie thinks not many people get to know.

Eddie has watched Buck’s hand on the small of Ali’s back, Taylor’s, Natalia’s. He’s watched them hold their hands, lead them in dances, seen how big his palm looked where it gently rested against their faces, wondered very quietly in some deep and hidden corner of himself what that kind of touch from that specific hand might feel like. He’s good with his hands and he’s got good hands, long fingers, little scars and freckles all over, a little bigger than Eddie’s own. He’d wondered — how could he not — quietly, and then louder and louder, and then-

And then Buck’s touches started to last longer, started happening with more frequency. A hand on his back as he passes him in Eddie’s kitchen, a room so familiar to them that the gesture is entirely unnecessary. A hand on his knee in the engine as Buck laughs at his jokes, Buck’s fingers curled gracefully around his elbow as they talk in a quiet corner of the station, gentle probing touches on every tiny scrape and bump Eddie accumulates on the job. Lingering, is the word for it, Buck’s fingers more and more reluctant to pull away, Eddie always leaning into the touch.

And now - a holiday party, full of folks from dispatch, the entire 118, Eddie’s pretty sure he even saw Ransone around the dessert table earlier. Buck’s got himself trapped behind the bar after he mixed a cosmopolitan for Karen and her delighted sound upon tasting it drew a crowd and endless requests started pouring in. So here Eddie is, too, the pair of them never far apart. He’s been perched on a stool for the last hour at least, watching Buck’s deft hands pour and mix and even do some fancy tricks with the bottles, tossing them in the air or behind his back. It makes Eddie laugh every time, and Buck’s responding grin makes him feel warmer than the alcohol could.

“You’re good at this,” Eddie says, which feels too obvious, or at the very least a vast understatement, and definitely something someone with a terrible crush would say, but something about the party and the way Buck keeps leaning towards him and, probably, the very good blackberry brambles that appear in front of him at regular intervals are all making him over inclined to share.

Buck’s grin is a little crooked, like his tongue is pressed against his teeth, and he winks, the bastard. Eddie’s probably turned a dozen shades of pink. “Bars I worked in had shit wages. Had to rake in the tips.” He nods towards Eddie’s glass, even this movement seeming extraordinarily smooth. “How’s the drink?”

Eddie snorts and takes a sip, like he needs to think about it. “You know it’s good. How come we just drink beers all the time when you can make shit like this?”

Buck laughs, head tilted back as he shakes a mixer full of Chimney’s piña colada. “Seems kinda overkill for a Tuesday night.”

Eddie grins into his drink, because Buck is at his house on Tuesday nights, and Wednesdays, and most of the rest of the week too if they can swing it. “Oh, I’m not a special enough occasion?”

“You’re plenty special, Eds.” Buck’s response is immediate, and his eyes have got all terribly soft and hard to look directly at, but the party and the leaning and the drinking have made Eddie brave, so he doesn’t duck his head. “I’ll make you a nice drink anytime.”

“Or you could-“ Eddie’s words catch, he coughs, he takes another sip of the bramble. Chimney leans against his side for a moment to grab the glass Buck’s poured his drink into, and Eddie remembers they’re not alone, they’re in a crowded room full of people who know them, he should probably go find water or breathe some fresh air, but then Chimney flits away again and Buck is looking at him expectantly.

“I could?” He prompts, with a smile that Eddie wants to fall asleep and wake up to, wants to taste.

Brave. He can be brave. Eddie rests two fingers on the back of Buck’s hand where he’s set it on the counter, looks up at him like his sister’s cosmopolitan magazines said to do. “You could show me what else you can do with your hands.”

Buck searches his face, taking big marathon runner breaths. “Eddie-” whatever he’s looking for he seems to find, because he nods, glances at Eddie’s drink, downs whatever’s left of it, and tilts his head towards the back door. It’s California, it’s not cold, but it’s winter and uncomfortable enough the backyard will be empty of party guests. Neither of them should get in a car yet, but this- this’ll work. This’ll do, in a pinch. Buck turns his hand palm up. “You wanna get out of here?”

Eddie takes Buck’s hand in his own, and they fit together just as perfectly as he hoped they might. “Yeah,” he grins, wide and goofy, unable to try and look cool about this at all. “Yes, please.” Buck is grinning just as wide, so there. “Your patrons might be upset though. Pretty early for a bar to close.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Buck says, tugging Eddie’s hand to start moving across the room. “You gave me the best tip of the night. I-“ he trips a little over somebody's toe, apologizes while Eddie giggles into his shoulder blades. “I’m retiring. They can make their own drinks.”

“Retiring?” Eddie’s impressed Buck gets the door open on only the second try. “What are you thinking of doing next?”

Buck turns around, bright against the dark backdrop of the empty yard and cloudy night sky, big dumb smile on his face. “I thought I’d become a firefighter.”

Eddie cackles, and chases Buck through the door. He stumbles a little but Buck’s hands come up to rest steady on his waist, catching him, easy.

[dulcewrites]

Fool Me Once (part 9)

Summary: you feel your grasp on your passions slip as a new person takes the Iron Throne (wc: 4.3k)

A/N: GUYSSS we are getting into the home stretch :(. I plan on having one more part after this, then a little epilogue/explanation what explains what happens during the actual war and the aftermath. Can’t thank y’all enough for all the support I have received since starting this series. It started as a one off and has turned into something else. sorry this took so long, I had some creativity issues going on. BUT I hope to get part 10 and the small epilogue out very soon.

Also check out my new alys x aemond x oc fic that explains how I actually see aemond and alys lmao

Fmo masterlist

Drowned in Love

When you were young, you loved the water. Your father said it was the Riverlands in you. Your family home was situated near the Bay of Crabs. There was a river that ran from the Bay near the castle.

Your mother used to chastise you for playing too close to the water in your nice dresses. One of the worst punishments you ever got came after you went into the water without her wishes. At the time, you could not swim. All she saw was hair bobbing in the water, your blue dress floating out around you.

Perhaps it was practice for when you are older, and now you must keep your head above water. Everyday.

You lie in bed, eyes tracing the dark swirls in the on the ceiling. Hair damp, hands shaking, only thing on your mind the sound of waves crashing the shore. A loud, urgent knock on the door makes you jump. There is no panic in the way you slowly up and walk towards the door.

Quinton is standing there, chewing on his lip. He takes in your sedated disposition with furrowed brow.

“Are you ok?”

“I am fine,” you lean, leisurely against doorway.

He winced slightly, before looking down the hallway to see if anyone is around. He takes your hand, and you fight back a flitch. You worry he can sense the difference in them. Or maybe that is in your head. Like a lot of things these days.

“King Viserys… he’s dead.”

You blink once, then twice before a giggle comes out of your mouth. Quinton gives you a slightly mortified look. It only makes you laugh again.

Dead. Viserys dead.

Your stomach churns as the giggles don’t stop. You stop as the bile works it’s way up your throat. It is not long before you are running towards the chamber pot in your room, dry heaving what little is on your stomach into it.

A hand follows on your back.

“It’s ok,” Quinton whispers. “You much be in shock.”

Yeah…. Shock.

By the time you compose yourself and get ready. When you get to the Great Hall. Rhaenyra is sitting in a chair, rubbing a hand on her temples. All her children standing around her.

Daemon is standing near window of the hall, Dark Sister unsheathed.

Rhaenyra looks up through her hands, and when she spots you, she stands Jace tries to follow her, but she reassured him she is fine.

“I need to speak with you.”

She does not wait for you to answer, just continues to walk out of the hall. As you turn to follow her, Daemon turns from the window making eye contact you. You don’t think you have ever seen his eyes that dull. You nod in acknowledgement before leaving.

Rhaenyra’s pacing around the room only makes your anxiety spike more. The wine you poured yourself not helping. You want to go hug your kids. You want to be far away from this place… from these people.

The natural response should be to comfort her; she has just lost her father. You had thought her husband would be the one to do it but the moment letter made it’s way to painted table, Daemon left the room. Rhaenyra reaching out just to be rejected.

“Rhaenyra, you really should not be exhausting yourself in this condition.”

She asked you to come to her study with her, and since then has done nothing but pace and mutter things to herself. Your eyes go her bulging belly. The maester had told her to be careful this time around. This would be her sixth child, the third in the last five years. Stress never bodes well for a woman with child.

“I want you to advise me once I am named Queen,” she finally turns to you suddenly.

You can’t help yourself, you let out a bark of laughter. No matter how much you feel for Rhaenyra at times, she will always prove herself to be a typical Targaryen. Self-serving to a fault. Delirious with her own thoughts.

“You do not even need to have a title,” she replies. “Just an ally to keep an eye on certain things for me.”

Your eyes go to the red liquid in your goblet; it reminds you of the color of fresh blood. A bile finds its way up your throat. Blinking away tears, you look up shaking your head.

“You will be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. You will have no shortage of political allies. Ones much more capable than me.”

“Who said anything about politicking,” Rhaenyra rebuts. She sighs, putting her hand on her stomach. You see beads of sweat on her forehead.

Otto had told you to stay close to Rhaenyra while at Dragonstone. She may pretend to walk alone in the world, but she will cling to any partnership she can forge. You can’t help but think about what he is doing right now, and what he would tell you to do. Pre Viserys passing, he would probably tell you to oblige her. The closer the better. Now that the throne is in reaching distance for both Rhaenyra and Aegon, you wonder if his answer would be the same.

“You mean keeping an eye on Aegon, on my husband.”

The word husband leaves a wretched taste on your tongue. Rhaenyra gives you a look, panic in her iris eyes. “I am sure they have been waiting for this moment.”

Though you told Otto the best course of action would be to wait it out, the realm shows their disdain for Rhaenyra and vice versa. You know better than to fully trust that will happen. For all you know, he could be crowning Aegon right now. You pray for their sakes nothing of the sort has come to fruition.

“You really think if I knew about some grand plan to usurp you that I would be foolish enough to come here,” you roll your eyes. “Where could you essentially hold my children and I hostage? Aegon has no desire for the crown. Your father’s treatment diminish that want years ago,” Rhaenyra’s eyes darken, and you throw your hand up in defense. “And Aemond… he wants a lot of things; does not mean he will get them.”

“But… if I chose to agree,” Rhaenyra’s resolve perks up. You want to say something about it being a very strong but, though you are sure it would not help in this moment. “There needs to be honestly, about everything, Princess. Me to you and you to me.”

She eyes the cracked door to the study before going over to shut it. Rhaenyra leans against the door.

“I think we have much in common.” Outside of being women and mothers, you can’t seem to find many similarities. “Sometimes you find yourself in positions… in positions with people you thought you could trust. Decisions are made. People get hurt. It all blurs together till you get what you think you wanted.”

“What is your point, Rhaenyra?”

It’s the talking in riddles, the lying, that you are so sick of.

“My point is, you and your children will be safe under my yoke. I can promise you that. The same way my children are a priority for me. I don’t know if anyone else around you can promise you that.”

Your eyes go from her to outside the window in the study. The beach waves crashing in the back.

No one is ever safe in this family.

— — —

“I do not see why the whip in necessary.”

The dragonkeepers exchange a look. You know they probably do not want you here, but someone needs to advocate for Daella.

You watch from the rocks as another dragonkeeper and Daella wait on the flat grassy area near the castle.

“It is only to assert dominance. He has already sees her as his rider. He just needs to understand that he should keep his attention on her,” the male dragonkeeper says in a low voice. “It has been years. Subservience is something that may need to be relearned.”

Dragons and subservience. The thought makes you want to snort with laughter. It makes you feel like the crazy one, thinking that messing with dragons will blow up in everyone’s faces. A long dynasty built off the beasts should be enough proof it can happen. But you have since learned that Targaryens and everyone else live in two different universes.

While everyone else can see the dangers, they welcome them, accept them as the risk because it is in their blood.

Rhaenyra’s return to King’s Landing is as somber as it was expected to be.

But she is not the only one with a solemn disposition. By the time the ship that carried everyone docked, and dragons that followed close him scurry away, you can see the tense looks on the faces of those that greet you to.

Alicent, Daeron, and Helaena are there once the carriages stop, the feelings unintelligible because of the stoic nature of their faces. Daeron and Helaena rush over to you.

“I told you to be discreet,” you say softly but pull Daeron into a hug.

You see out of the corner of your eye, Alicent and Rhaenyra reaching out to each other. Daemon makes no effort to be greeted or greet anyone else. You hear him say something to guard about seeing his brother’s body.

Helaena grabs your hand and gives it a squeeze, and you squeeze hers back. A part of you does not want to face Aemond yet, but he just lost his father. Despite it all, your heart does hurt for him.

Daella insisted on showing people her new dragon. Alicent included, who gave you a sympathetic look while her granddaughter pulled away by her dress. You ask for Quinton to accompany them to the dragon pit.

With Alaric in your arms, you try to maneuver into your apartments. You find Aemond sitting and reading a book. He just stares at you for a second before getting up. His attention focused on Alaric. You watch as he murmurs to him.

“I don’t think he liked Dragonstone very much,” you try to break the silence in the room. “We can cross that off the list of places to take them when they are older.”

Aemond just hums, not paying you any mind.

“Aemond, if you want to talk ab-“

The look he gives you makes you stop in your tracks.

“There is nothing to talk about,” he says coldly.

You swallow thickly. You can’t help but feel pathetic whenever you try with him. Like a puppy that keeps coming back to get kicked. Things have gotten so bad that you can’t even get out that if he wants to mourn his father, you will be a shoulder for him. You know he is hurt, but how he manages to always take that coldness out on you is getting tired. It’s been tired.

“Where’s Daella,” he brushes past the conversation you tried to start.

“With her aunt in the dragon pit.”

He hands Alaric back to you and leaves the room to go to the pit you assume. When the door closes, your bottom lip trembles a bit. Alaric looks up at you with big curious eyes.

You hug him closer to you as you look around the room. A place that was once home feeling more foreign by the day.

The trip to the dragon pit was met with mixed results. Daella seemed excited to tell anyone who would listen about Vermithor. Aemond understood. He was sure he talked his mother’s ear off once he claimed Vhagar.

Things seem to be going well till Daeron stormed in, fire in his eyes.

Gods forbid your wife wants to comfort you. What a poor life you must have. I thought I told you fix it.

A part of Aemond wanted to come clean and say there was no fixing it. He fucked up, you hate him. It is easier to just stay out of each other’s way till one of you can find an out.

What did she do to you to make you act this way. You’re better than that, or so I thought.

Guilt sat deep in his stomach after Daeron said it.

With Daeron’s plea in the back of his head. Aemond finds you in the bath. He can still see the steam coming up from the water; your head leaned back, arms extended and laying on each side. He notices the goblet in your hand. You have been doing that a lot since having Alaric… drinking.

He watches as lean your head up slowly at the sound of him coming in. You roll your eyes at the sight of him. Another thing he notices you doing a lot. Sometimes it’s rolling of the eyes, other times it is loud sigh. As if merely seeing him exhausted you.

It should make him be more conscious around you. Pick his words carefully.

“You shouldn’t drown in your cups,” he knows as soon as the words come out, they were not the right choice.

Your normally bright and clear eyes are blurry and wild. Stray hairs fall from the pile of hair on the top of your head.

“Thank you, father,” you reply sarcastically. He watches you down the rest of your wine, before leaning over to refill it with the large pitcher next to the tub. His eye trails along the birthmark that runs its away across your ribs. It strangely used to be his favorite physical attribute of yours; a part only he has seen.

You would be surprised how well a simple apology works.

His mother’s words play in his head. She used to say it to him and Aegon when they fought Taking a deep breath, he pulls the chair from the corner of the room to near the tub.

“What are you going,” you asked with a frown.

“I think we should talk.”

“I do not want to talk with you,” you groan, closing your eyes again.

“But you sai-“

“I changed my mind,” you sink lower into the tub. “I want to be left alone.”

Aemond doesn’t budge, just stares, mouth twisted into a scowl. He watches you shift uncomfortably until your eyes shoot open.

“Are you just going to sit there and stare?”

“I said I want to talk,” he repeats.

“Fuck you,” you spit out. “I told you to get out.”

“I am trying to apologize.”

You just stare at him for a moment before letting out a bark of laughter.

“Apologize,” you mock. “Whatever for, husband? The cheating, the lying, or just your overall need to be a cunt to me?”

Aemond’s jaw clenches before he tries to reply but you cut him off.

“Now you want to speak on your terms too. After everything you have done to me. You know for someone who resents his father so much that you cannot even come to grips with mentioning his death, you act a lot like him. You watched your mother waste away because of the way he treated her, and you learned nothing. That is not a mistake Aemond, that is a choice. You chose to behave that way, and - and,” your voice breaks. “I have no idea why. I woke up one day alone. Your body was here but everything else was gone. I married you; I gave you children; I bit my tongue like I told to… and it still wasn’t enough for you. The sickest part is that I would have forgiven you if you just showed an ounce of remorse before. So, no Aemond. I don’t want to talk it out with you.”

Your eyes go to water. “I want you out.”

Aemond sits there shocked before getting up and leaving. You sink lower into the tub, till you are submerged. The heat of the water tickles your face. A slight weight lifted on your chest let the calmness of the water take over.

Rhaenyra is crowned in a small ceremony in the throne room. By the time Viserys body was burned and the smoke reached the skies, her coronation was one of planned.

As you look around, you try to find a happy face. Despite the mistakes along the way or the prejudice some may have, Rhaenyra still has supporters in the Realm. Even with this fact, there is not a genuine smile on anyone’s face.

It is all placations to the tense atmosphere that has entered King’s Landing.

Alicent stood on the either side of you. None of the other Hightower children attended the ceremony. Aemond and you have not spoken since the argument the other day. He spends most of his days riding with Daella which you guess is better alternative to what else he could be doing.

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

Daemon stands behind his wife, face in deep thought. Rhaenyra’s eyes are red, and distant as her father’s crown is lowered onto her head. Otto is on the other side of her.

You think of the conversation you had with her in the dead of night.

“Why in Seven Hells would I keep Otto Hightower on as hand?”

“Because you and I both know he is good at his job. Despite what you may think of him, he has served each ruler before you well.”

“He married Alicent to my father.”

“Which if recounts are true, you unfairly blamed on her.”

There was silence before Rhaenyra sighed. “I guess having him near is better than far. Corlys is not going to be happy about this.”

As chants for long live with the queen begin, your mind drifts to Aegon. He had been avoiding you since you got back. In fact, he had been tucked away from everyone since.

It could be out a self-survival. There were already whispers about when and how he would take the crown from his sister. Daemon seemed to take it as a personal affront more than Rhaenyra has.

Once the ceremony is over, Otto makes eye contact with you. The meetings had become tedious to hide. With both Rhaenyra and with Otto and rest of the green council.

As people begin to filter out of the hall, Otto walks slowly as you stay behind. He walks you to his study.

“I have to say, I am impressed by how quickly our new Queen has taken a liking to you,” he seems more pleased with himself than you. “And now I have good news for you.”

He pulls out a cloak. The purple shade of it is so deep that it almost looks black. You recognize it well. It’s Aemond’s

“That little problem you had has been taken care of, and I thought you would want this back.”

The familiar flush of heat on the face, and watery mouth you get before you feel like you need to throw up comes over you. You shake your head in confusion.

“This was found… on the body.”

Your breath quickens. “Oh, um well thank you for taking it care of it.”

You know you probably look crazy as you all but run back towards your chambers. The cloak was long forgotten in Otto’s study despite his calls after you. Aemond looks up startled by the desk in the corner when you burst through the door. The two of you haven’t truly spoken since the argument nights ago.

Frantically, you go to the drawer where you unpacked your dresses from the trip. You go to the drawer where you know Aemond keeps his blades.

“What are you doing? What happened?”

When you find the blade you gave him for your anniversary, you drop to your knees. This makes no sense.

Your mind drifts back to pushing her head under the water till she stopped fighting. You tried not to think about it. The nightmares were enough. If that wasn’t her… then who was it? Did that even happen?

You flitch when you feel a hand on your shoulder. Aemond had crouched down to your level with a confused look on his face. He just looks at you before shaking his head.

“Aegon and I have been talking,” your brows furrow skeptically as his voice grows soft. Since when did him and Aegon… talk? His hand goes to brush a hair from your face. “We think it might be best for the children to leave with Daeron when it goes back to Oldtown.”

“What?”

“It is not safe here. Not while Rhaenyra is Queen.”

“Aegon has a reason to send his kids. They could be in line, and in danger, if anything were to happen. We have no reason to.”

“I think we should consider it.”

You scoff. Now suddently he wants to care for his kids. “You can do whatever you want with the children… when I am long dead and buried.”

You swat his hand away, before getting up. You give the blade in the drawer one last look before leaving.

It had been moons since Queen Rhaenyra, First of Her Name had been crowned. After a short period of peace following the death of King Viserys the Peaceful, King’s Landing was alight with gossip and strife.

Some claimed that Prince Aegon, quick to anger, had spent those months plotting his rise power in spite of his sister. Others claimed that it was the Dowager Queen Alicent that had been planning her son to take the throne behind Rhaenyra’s back.

Most of the drivel was salacious and untrue in nature. But all that was trampled and forgotten once news of a prophet spreading the word against Targaryen dynasty reaches the Red Keep.

Slanderous remarks against Queen Rhaenyra gaining traction. It is said that the comments anger the Queen so much that she took it out on one of her ladies in waiting.

It is now said that these sermons were only the beginning of young Queen’s demise.

The sun streaming in through the window is what wakes it up. You sit up slowly, taking in the nice weather outside. But then it hits you. Alaric wakes you up.

At almost the same time every morning, his cries or coos wake you up. You rush over to the crib to find it empty. You notice Aemond is not in the room either, and then with a throat you call out for help.

As ladies scurry out of your room after getting you dressed, you let out flurry of expletives that Quinton wonders if they are just native to where you are from. Some of them sayings he has never heard before.

He tries to keep up with you as you all but run to the kids’ sleeping quarters. When you don’t find Daella in there, you slowly turn around face stoic, and cold.

Quinton watches as you throw your head back and let out a piercing screaming. Almost animalistic. He knows you probably frightened the guard tell who she is with. But he doesn’t understand… most in this castle wouldn’t.

“I’m going to kill him,” you mutter. You give him a crazed look. “I’m going to choke him to death and feed him back to his own dragon.”

Quinton never thought love would be considered an ugly thing, especially not the love between a mother and her child. A man and wife. But it manifests itself in an ugly way as he watching you kneel over, putting your hands on your knees. You let out an ugly sob, a shattering breath raking out of you.

He puts a hand on your shoulder, and as if a trance was broken, you instantly stand up. You straighten your dress out and walk out as if nothing just happened.

It is not until Aemond returns later that evening that something uglier replaces the panic.

———

Aemond was expecting fireworks. Tears for sure, maybe some shouting, but nothing out of the ordinary for what your relationship has become.

What he wasn’t expecting was the way you flew across the room at him by the time the door closes.

“You fucking bastard.”

Aemond recognizes the look, he’s seen it in his dreams. Aemond tends to think people let the pretty face fool them. He often wonders what would happen if he just left you in room with people you didn’t like. Whereas other people hesitate, when brought to the certain point, you would not.

You begin to hurl curses at him. “You have a lot of nerve coming back.”

“They are with their uncle, away from here. Somewhere safe.”

“Nowhere is fucking safe, Aemond. Not in this family. Not with the father they have,” you hiss. “Incompetent, thinks he’s smarter than he actually is, nothing in that head of yours.”

That’s when the first push is landed.

“Otto was right, you’re a rouge.. a liability. Always have been. Aegon always said you’d eventually do something stupid…. again!”

Aemond laughs, teeth blared in a way that makes your shiver. He’s enjoying this.

“Is that what you and my brother talk about behind closed doors? Huh, I would have assumed you two would’ve been doing more… interesting things.”

Aemond watches as something switches in your eyes at the implication. Your eyes go to the blade on his waist. Aemond raises a light brow.

Do it.

“Be careful, Aemond,” you keep your voice low. “I worry you underestimate me, and what I willing to do for them. If something happens to, I will make you sure you end up like -“

Before you can finish, scared and frantic knocks at the door interrupt you. You shoot him one last glare before going to the door. You find a breathless Jace standing there.

“My mother asked for you,” his eyes seem far away. “The - the babe is coming.”

You look at him in shock, before a sinking feeling settles in your stomach.

Her term still has a month left.

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[its-actually-minicika]

The Harshest Winters (18+!)

Part 2;

Pairing(s): Jacaerys x Reader (rip king 🤍), Dark!Aemond x Reader (though it's very much one sided on his behalf);

Warnings: angst galore, mentions of SA, blood and gore, allusions and descriptions of death AND sex, book canon Aemond- need I go on?

Author's Note: The support received on the last part was insane :")) so here I am, writing another one! If this gets enough attention, I might just turn it into a series; Nonetheless, I hope you guys enjoy!

Also, this isn't proof-read; We die like men tonight :") Part 3 is out now! <33

(Y/N) and Ser Cain ride through burnt-down forests, scattered with ash and blood - twisted loyalties reveal their sick ambitions, and the girl is faced with a very tough decision.

"How'd you even manage to get into Harrenhal? Aemond may be blind in one eye, but he keeps an iron fist over who enters and leaves the Keep." Her hushed voice echoed through the empty forest.

Ser Cain looked at his lady with a glimpse of reverence, that could almost be confused with one of slight amusement.

"I must admit, I got plenty of help." He barked dryly, running a calloused hand through his blonde hair. "You may have had no friends among the Greens, but there was a certain wood witch that wanted you gone as soon as possible."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened in momentary shock. Her mouth opened and closed back up again, before she finally managed to form a proper sentence.

"Alys? Alys Rivers?" She asked tentatively, amusement licking at her fair features.

"Us bastards always find a way to help one another," Cain let out a roaring laugh, that brought a level of warmth to the Lady's weary heart. "I wanted you safe, and she wanted you gone. We reached a deal very quickly after that."

"No way you struck a deal with Aemond's bedmate." The girl huffed out in disbelief, "She'll be in a lot of trouble if ever he finds out... There is hardly anything for her to gain from freeing a war captive."

"Aye, he will be mad..." Her sworn protector made a short pause, "Yet there's nothing that stirs someone on more than jealousy." The knight sighed, lost in deep thought. "She has everything to gain from this - the walls talk in Harrenhal, my Lady. And they... well, forgive me for being so blunt - speak stories on how the Kinslayer loses sleep by visiting you in your chambers at night."

The girl's cheek are caught ablaze; the innuendo was more than clear on Ser Cain's face alone. She stills her horse and throws him a jaded look.

"As you saw when you guarded my door, ser - he does intrude often. But there was never a moment where we..." As her words came to a halt, the girl huffed out in a discontented breath, "I would rather die than spread my legs open for the usurper's kin."

"I know." Cain reassured her, a wide smile plastered on his face. "With the way you were gripping that candle holder, ready to swing it at me, I can only imagine the hell you gave Prince Aemond."

"It wasn't nearly as much as he deserved. I'm afraid I failed to do Jace justice."

Wordlessly, Ser Cain reached for her saddle, and gave her shoulder a tight squeeze. His other hand came to grip the horse's bridle, forcing both mares into another sprint.

"We can't stay in one place for long." He wanted to apologise, but (Y/N)'s reassuring smile made him calm back down again.

"Trust me. If there is anyone who wants to put as much distance between them and that disgusting psychopath, it's me."

For a while, the only noise made in the smoked out forest was the gallop of the horses and their shallow panting. After a while, even that proved to be too little.

"I have to ask," The woman started, quirking her brow up at the knight, "Where are we going? Riverrun is hardly a safe space - Aemond will go there first, once he gets notified of my absence."

Following her own logic, (Y/N)'s eyes widen.

"My brothers. Father and grandfather...!"

"You needn't worry, my Lady!" Cain Waters assured the girl with a delicate brush on her arm, "We like to think that we thought of everything - and Riverrun has been emptied since the very beginning of the Kinslayer's wild attacks."

A sigh of relief etches it's way from the girl's throat.

"Your father raised your grandfather's army - he's marching to Dragonstone, with Kermit, to aid our true Queen. As for your youngest brother and grandfather, they're both in the Eyrie - where Lady Jane Arryn is expecting you, too."

"So that's were we're heading." (Y/N) concluded with a deep sigh. "We won't reach it tonight."

"No." Cain agreed, but soon added determinedly, "We'll probably reach the Saltpans on the morrow. We'll hide a while near the Trident and, when the time is right, march North towards the Bloody Gate."

"Gods be good, it will take us weeks." She exclaimed through a shallow breath. "We can't afford spare that much time. Aemond will be hot on our tracks, that much is for certain."

Cain's eyes softened at her outburst, and the robust man bit his inner cheek.

"We have to take this chance - for your safety, my Lady." He tried to encourage her with a crooked smile, "Do not worry about the Kinslayer. I'll kill him if he touches you."

The way in which he spoke oozed with honesty and determination. His eyes were like two silver daggers, scanning, searching for any danger that could put his Lady's life at stake.

Cain was a loyal knight, Lady Tully concluded, a trusted friend and fantastic travel partner. He was her sworn shield - and men, willing to devote themselves to a cause in the way he did, waiting for nothing in return, were very few and far between.

The tiniest shadows of a smile dance across her tired features. She takes in a deep breath, and allows her shoulders to relax.

"I know you will, Ser Cain." She confirms with a small nod, focusing her attention to the road ahead.

Still... when a dragon stands between a man and his duty, what brainless knight would ever rush to a lady's aid?

Aemond's footsteps echoed through the wailing keep. His armour fell heavy on his shoulders, and the sword in his grip was fully drenched in blood.

Of all the men slain by his hand that day, Simon Strong, the old fool, had screamed the loudest. He begged until his last breath for mercy of the Warrior and the Mother, for a chance to prove himself and his loyalty to the Crown, but to no avail.

Of all the guards assigned to Harrenhal by his darling mother, all but one died, as fallen victims to his endless frenzy.

"If the words you speak are truthful," Aemond mocked him with an airy laugh, "Then pick up this sword and clash it with mine. Should you be innocent, the Warrior will grant you strength enough to defeat me."

But no Warrior, and no other God, beckoned his call that day.

Instead, Simon Strong died with his head severed, and body still twitching with a sword in hand.

Now, it was Aemond's turn to wail and sigh at the sight before him - the last knight he kept alive, a boy as green as grass, petrified beyond belief.

When he spotted the One Eyed Prince, the boy all but fell to his knees, begging for forgiveness through tear stained cheeks and apish breaths.

"Your Grace, please, you must believe me!" He deplored helplessly, "I had no part in this - I didn't know!"

Aemond felt his lips quirk up in a cruel smile. The view below him was beyond pitiful; a most amusing glimpse into what the Conqueror himself must have experienced when he put Westeros through the judgement of steel and flames.

Still, even the most amusing jesters become ridiculous when faced with the passage of time.

"Exactly. You didn't know." His honeyed voice rang out into the cluttered room. The Crown Prince took a step forward, reveling in how the knight pressed himself deeper into the ground. The stench of piss flared up his nostrils.

The boy had shat himself.

His whimpers broke through the otherwise silent room. A mixture of "Please"s and "Your Grace, don't"s - it left Aemond dissatisfied and forlong, irked to no end.

"You say you have seen this knight around." He hummed in admission, "Pray tell, what was his name again?"

"C-Cain! Cain Waters! He was a broad man, with a straight stubble and long, blonde hair!" He shook his head after each and every word, desperate to prove himself. "He had a scar - right here, on his left arm! And a broken nose - it curved to the left side, and he said he'd gotten it from a brawl!" The boy blabbered incoherently, spewing as many things as he remembered from the immediate memory.

Aemond chuckled at his words, raising his hand out to stop the disordered boy. Wordlessly, he held his arm out, enouraging him with a curt nod to raise to his feet again.

"You have an excellent memory, do you not? It seems like you remember a lot of things."

The knight nodded fevereshly, trying his hardest to stop his limbs from giving out.

"Yes, yes, Your Grace! I talked to him countless of times, I can recognise his voice with my eyes closed!"

Aemond quirked his head to the side, and let out another curt laugh.

"Good, very good, indeed! And, tell me..." As he spoke the last of his words, Aemond Targaryen got closer to the shaking boy, "You call this level of interest... not getting involved?"

Without waiting for an answer, Prince Aemond let go of the soldier's hand, running his sword through his stomach in a simple, yet effective movement.

"Y-Your G-Gh..." He strained himself to hiss though his bloodied mouth, before falling on his knees, his hand placed atop his wound.

"You've proven yourself very useful." Aemond asserted dryly, "Just as you said."

The Prince turned back on his heel again, and began marching towards the open door. With a bored expression on his face, he threw the child one more dejected look, and added, "But I've simply no more need for you."

The knight's endless gagging filled the room with a paculiar sense of dread. Somewhere along his way, Aemond got a hold of a kitchen wench; he grabbed her with his bloody hand, and clicked his tongue in pure disdain.

"Clean that up." Was all she was instructed to do.

Daylight had long broken the sky in two, as Cain and (Y/N) finally reached the Saltpans of the Trident.

Tired, and famished far beyond belief, the two stopped at the gate of an ale house, dismounting their horses and knocking on the door politely.

A couple of seconds went by, until a small click of a key was heard on the other side. An old woman stepped outside, holding out a crossbow, that was still too big for her wide frame.

"I said, no more scoundrels, and ruffians, and thieves, and men! Away, away with you!"

Her wrinkled hands swished and flicked about, right under Cain's nose, who swallowed a small laugh, and gently raised his hands out in taciturn surrender.

"No ruffians, scoundrels or thieves sit in front of you, ma'am. ... Though, of being a man, I must admit I'm very guilty."

Upon hearing his words, the old lady shook her head, with a strength so great, (Y/N) was sure her eyes would pop out.

"Oh, no, no! I said, no more of those around here!" She repeated again, though she lowered her crossbow from Cain's face, upon hearing the sound of his mellow voice.

"Madam, I... We beg you to reconsider." The Lady's voice rang through the open clearing. As she glanced up at the old, plump woman, her features turned soft and pleading, begging for help, like a child would to her wise mother.

She gripped Cain's biscep with her left hand, ensuring that their host would see her amethist ring, that now rested upon her ring finger. "My husband and I are so tired from our long journey and... as you said, Madam, the streets aren't safe."

The house's owner squinted at them with a hardened look, but then, almost too suddenly, she stepped aside for the two to come in.

"You'll have to forgive an old spinster," The woman smiled tightly over her shoulder, "It's just that in these parts of the Reach, you don't know in who to trust."

"Aye, we hear that." Cain replied with a warm smile, leading his lady inside with a hand respectfully placed above her waist. "Great thinking!" He leaned in to whisper in her ear, congratulating her on the ability to adapt to their situation so fast. "If I didn't know any better, my Lady, I'd say you didn't need me to make the trip."

She gave her a polite smile, and sheepishly bowed her head.

"Perhaps you don't know any better, then." She laughed at him teasingly, before moving her attention back to the old maid.

"My husband and I travelled no small distance - we live near Bitterbridge, but we decided to join with our relatives near Crossroad's Inn." She gave Cain's hand a tight squeeze, and looked at him affectionately, before pressing on. "With with the war looming over us, nothing is more important than family."

The old lady smiled at them, showing off her three gold teeth. Her eyes held no malice now, and she shifted her weight from her left foot to speak. "Mine mother was from Goldengrove - a proper Lady. She was almost a lady in waiting for Brianna Tyrell."

Looking almost wistfully to the side, the inn wench let out a melancholic sigh.

"Oh, but what am I sharing these stories for?" She questioned jokingly, while clasping her hands together. "I'll prepare breakfast for you two. And a bed - to sleep in for the night."

Cain offered the woman a small nod, and smiled tightly in reply.

As she made herself busy with boiling some eggs, the man leaned in, muttering lowly to his lady.

"She didn't ask us for how long we'd stay. She assumed right away we'd be gone tomorrow."

Taking in his cautious words, (Y/N) hummed, as she nibbled on her bottom lip.

"And if her words are true about her mother, then she served as vassal for the Hightowers, as well."

"Do you think she's a Loyalist, my Lady?" The knight choked on his own breath.

"It might be too soon to tell."

The man's eyes fell back on the dirty window, that offered but a shallow peek into the outside world. His face contorted to one of great concentration - Much like it did years ago, (Y/N) mused to herself, before an important Tourney.

"We'll tread lightly. ... It might be a good idea to show our support to Aegon when we talk amongst ourselves at dinner."

"An easy conversation to over-hear, of course. Especially after a glass or two of wine."

Their little dialogue ceased a moment, and both travellers shot each other a warm smile.

"W-W-Wait, just because I brought the letter here, that don't mean I'm gon' speak to the young master, too-" The strained voice of a serving maid bounced off the stone walls of the black Crypt.

She looked around frantically, shaking her head with so much dedication, that her braid came undone onto her shoulders. The servants around her made no attempt to soothe the girl, or take her under their protection - for they, too, were scared of the wrath that resided deep inside of Aemond.

Still, a raven, who's beak carried a letter that spoke naught on the outside, besides it coming from an inn in the Saltpans, had come to Harrenhal that afternoon.

A more educated one from the flock of young maids tried to decypher its contents in the light of day, but to no avail. The letter had to be opened. And it had to be opened by their reckless Prince, first.

"H-How do we even know it's something important?" One elder girl chirped shyly. "What if it isn't, and Prince Aemond punishes us for wasting his Grace's time?"

A shuddering thought went through each and every resting body, that rang clear through their bodies, like a blade would on young flesh.

"And what if it is important?" Another spoke up, "We'll all be executed for not bringing it to him, sooner!" She sobbed into her hands.

"Bring what to Prince Aemond?"

The rise of the unknown voice elicited a scared gasp from each member of the pitiful assembly. Comically, they all turned on their heel at once, gripping their throats in horrified wonder.

None but Alys Rivers stood before them, her own hands resting on her hips and her cascade of black hair, fraiming her expecting face in a gruellingly gorgeous way.

"Seven hells! You had us scared to death, Rivers!" One maid or another chastised her deeply.

Upon hearing the lack of reverence in her voice, the Strong witch clasped her hands tightly together, and glared upon the crowd with a look full of disdain.

"You ought be careful with how you address me. You forget yourself, wench."

Her words were cutting and scornful, and yet, they had no effect on the defying servant.

"I should be careful with how I speak to you?" The tiny woman let out a small scoff, "'Tis you who should sooner not forget her standing. You aren't mistress of this Keep. You are naught above us in station."

Caught in the red, Alys scorned down at the meek, servant girl. Her back turned awfully straight, and she demured in a demanding tone.

"You will either tell me at once what it is you're hiding, or I will have my Aemond take all of your heads." She let out a small chuckle, and carried on, "You'll see how much power I have over this keep and you - for I carry the Dragon's son, and his fires already lick at my womb."

The possibility of Alys Rivers carrying the Kinslayer's bastard sent a shiver down their hollow spines. Soon, the girls threw each other a despondent look, and settled their eyes upon the floor.

"It's... a letter from the Saltpans... m'lady." The same maid who provoked her now spoke. "We don't know of it's contents, but..."

Silence fell over the windy crypt. Alys quirked up a brow in amusement, and extended her arm out in palpable anticipation.

"I'll carry it to him, then. Make haste, give it to me, and begone."

For once, her command was almost immediately executed. The plump girl that had brought the raven inside hurried to give the parchments to her, and scurried along the dark hall, making herself scarce and unseen.

Alys' green skirts kissed the grounds which the woman walked, leaving a rustling echo along the large halls with every calculated step.

She reached for Aemond's Quarters, and slyly made her way inside.

"My Prince," Her voice rang out, "A letter addressed to you has just arrived."

The eager polishing of Aemond's sword was the only noise in the room for a while. He hummed expectantly, putting an end to his endeavours, and getting a hold of the enclasped letter with two of his long fingers.

Silently, much like a predator would it's prey, he analysed its contents, feeling a smug smirk tugging at his upturned lips. He lowered it after a while, and looked out the window, lost in the depthness of his thoughts.

"My Prince, what does it say?" Alys inquired officiously, dropping her head over his thighs. "Is it of an important matter?"

Aemond let out a joyous laugh - and, whether it was due to his amusement over Alys' stupid question, or due to the contents of the flimsy letter, was up to anybody's guess.

"Tell those kitchen wenches to prepare for a grand feast for tonight. We have reason to expect very pleasant company."

The man rose from his chair and smirked to himself once more, before making his way towards the grand oak doors of his private chambers.

He stopped on his tracks, however, to assert the woman on his bed once more.

"Alys... should you come to my room unannounced again, I will have your head for it." He uttered neutrally, with a bemused rise of his brows.

"Do you think it wise to leave tonight?" Cain's pleasant voice rang through the girl's ears, as the two made good haste scarping down on the dinner they paid for.

"Tonight?" The girl hushed back at him, before taking a sip of her wine. "You don't trust the old lady, do you?"

"Aye, I must admit, I don't." Cain confirmed her laid out question, as he followed the woman's form into the small kitchen again. "I can't shake off the feeling that something bad is about to happen."

Placing her hand atop his in a pacifying manner, (Y/N) squeezed tightly, putting an end to his restless thoughts.

"Then we should leave tonight. Wait until she's fallen asleep, sneak out and mount our horses. We can sleep when we reach the Bloody Gate, or hidden away in the forest." She concluded with a stone faced look.

Cain bit his lower lip and clicked his tongue in distaste for the plan. "I'm sorry for making you go through this, my Lady. A young woman shouldn't be forced to sleep outside, under such pitiful conditions."

"But it's better to be safe than sorry," She assured him once again, "And I've slept in worse than grass and branches - you should know."

The knight's face twisted into pure rage.

"I swear to you, my Lady, I will have his head for all he made you go through. I will."

"There would be no one else I trust more with the task." She smiled at him happily, and a pang of sisterly affection surged through her bones. "Let's finish eating. Then we'll retire in our room and start packing up."

Cain nodded in agreement, and offered the girl one of his many placid smiles.

The evening went on with little to no commotion - the night displayed the hour of the wolf, when the two finally made their way outside their room, and onto the small corridor that led to the stables.

Still, their footsteps, however careful, alerted their horses, who'd grown so accounstomed to Cain's presence.

With a small huff of their muzzles, they rested their head upon the separating barrier, and shook their manes expectantly.

"That's it, those are my good girls." Cain hushed to them, untying their bridles from the putrid wall. "Let's go for a ride, shall we?"

In the same manner he did the night before, (Y/N)'s sworn shield helped her up the saddle, and secured her belts in place. Soon came his turn, and, before they both knew it, the pair was exiting the stables with tentative steps, stopping at the entrance.

"We'll take to the North road, but we'll travel slightly East. We'll be on Arryn grounds... and hopefully more safe."

"That sounds like a plan." Lady Tully agreed with a tight expression on her face. She let out a shaky sigh, opening the inn's gates with a strong jerk of her hand.

Cain clicked his tongue once, twice, three and four times, until both horses broke into a hasty sprint. With his hand over both bridles, he guided the horses over to the stony road.

The night was clear. The shadows scarce. And yet...

A looming figure washed up before them both, swallowing the light of the moon and shaking their foundations to the very core.

"Ha..." (Y/N) let out a laugh in disbelief, feeling her heart rising to her throat.

Cain's face tightened, and his knuckles turned white over the saddle's head. His body contorted in fear and disgust for the man above them, as he took in a deep breath.

"Run." He instructed dryly.

When a horse races with a dragon, which one of them wins? - It was a rather stupid question, for this was a race that the poor horse would lose everytime, no matter it's good breeding or strong muscle mass.

"TO THE FOREST, BACK INTO THE FOREST!" Ser Cain yelled out, turning both animals around, hoping for a chance of escape.

"Have you lost your mind?! He'll burn the trees down!" His lady's reply came and went, swallowed by the wind, and the ring of Aemond's cruel laugh.

"What other choice do we have?!"

That much was true, the lady admitted inside her head. Aemond was ruthless, and, chances were, they would both die either way. If there was even a slither of hope that they'll survive by confusing the man, they had to take it.

As the horses ran, Cain tried his best to untangle their bridles, but (Y/N) shouted after him.

"Don't!! Aemond won't burn me with his dragon, he needs me alive for my grandfather's banners! But he won't hesitate to hurt you, should we be separated!"

With one hardened breath after the other, the two made their way back into the forest, where Cain reached out to unbuckle his lady's saddle. His stiff fingers made slow work - the exhaustion, fear and speed with which they galloped made it extremely hard for the knight to see even three inches ahead of him.

"We get off the horses!" He alerted the woman, as beads of sweat rolled off his forehead. "From that distance, he can't see us - he'll think we're still on them! We'll have to run from that point on, but we must take the chance!"

(Y/N) replied in kind with his instructions, and both lady and loyal knight jumped off their horses' saddles, hitting the ground with a ferocious impact.

Pain surged through her limbs and bones, but Cain quickly grabbed her hand, and dragged her further into the forest, and farther away from Aemond's roars.

Their strained breaths and silent whimpers echoed through the quiet woods - they ran and ran, until their feet gave out on them, and the two reached a small cave.

"Come -" The man encouraged with a raspy voice, as his knees buckled below him.

For a while, there was silence. (Y/N) swallowed thickly, and whispered to her tired knight.

"We should stay here for a while. Maybe an hour, or... Shit, he won't leave either way, will he?"

"Aye, my Lady, not without you." His grey eyes came to clash with her (y/e/c) hues. A look of strange determination took a hold of his harsh features, contorting his brows in such a way, that they almost mended through themselves.

"From here we could go to Maidenpool. The forest covers enough a distance for such a feat."

"Maidenpool?" The girl's voice shook with fear, "It's nose to nose with King's Landing - going there is a death sentence!"

She closed her eyes tightly and kicked her leg into a nearby stone. "Shit, shit, shit - we were so close!"

"I shall challenge him to a fair fight." Cain mustered up to say. "The Kinslayer has no honor. But he still values the tradition."

The lady's eyes shot wide open, and her head shook to the side. "No, absolutely not. Aemond is well rested - you haven't slept in two days!"

"I must. What other choice do we have?" He repeated with a shaky voice, as he wobbled back on his feet again. His eyes trailed over the girl's small silhouette, and patted her back keenly.

"You stay here, my Lady. Should I arise victorious, I'll come back and find you."

With each word of their heated dispute, both companions raised their voices.

"No - not a chance. As your Lady, I'm commanding you; and as your friend, I'm begging you - let me come with."

"There should be no need for that." Aemond's deep voice rumbled out.

Cain wasted no time to place the girl behind his back, and unsheathe his sword with one swift movement.

"... How?" (Y/N) asked him in pure disdain and disbelief.

"Lady Alys sees many things. Before I left, she saw you in the fires of the kitchen, wasting away in this cave to rot."

The Crown Prince gave the girl a mellow smile, as he took a step ahead.

"At first, it made little sense to me. Especially since that withered whore sent me a raven, assuring me of your whereabouts in her inn." Hearing the calmness in his voice, the girl spat out a low curse.

But Aemond laughed at her display, and gently shook his head.

"The view you get atop a dragon, My Lady, is a very valuable thing. You can already guess my frustration when all I saw were pesky trees, but then... then I saw this cave."

Cain let out a low growl, and measured the One-Eyed Prince with his wild stare.

"None of that matters now." He spoke calmly, cutting him off, "We've to reach an agreement, Kinslayer. Pull your sword out now, and face trail before the Gods."

As his eyes trailed across Aemond's clean armour, the knight let out a strained snarl.

"Lest you be scared to, of course."

That seems to be the final drop for Aemond, who suddenly unsheathes his own Valyrian steel sword, and places it atop Cain's breastplate. "You'll regret ever taunting a dragon."

"We'll see."

Having said the last of their words, the men swayed on their feet, clashing steel with steel. When Aemond charged him, Cain moved barely fast enough to avoid the blade's sharp edge.

No sooner was Aemond's first slash blocked, that the knight made another - this time, the Kinslayer's armour proved to be pivital, as the sword rang though his breastplate, without making any damage to the warm body inside.

Hard and fast the cuts came, from low and high, from left and right, and each one Cain managed to block. The frustration in Aemond's eye etched itself into Vhagar's mighty roar, so barbaric and wild, that it sent a shiver of dread down (Y/N)'s spine.

Her knight caught one blow high on his armour, and a painted trout had lost its head. He countercut, and the Prince imposed his own shield, lunching in a fiery backslash.

Cain moved to his right, but the Kinslayer blocked him with a quick side-step, and drove him back the other way... towards the darkness of the cage, hoping to blind him and take his head.

The knight gave ground until he felt the shadows dancing on his back. A quick glance over his shoulder showed him what was way behind, and that recklessness almost cost him his head, when Aemond began his attacks anew.

One hit over his legs by (Y/N)'s dagger sent the Prince tumbling on his back, but he surged his way on his feet again with a rash counter-attack. He let out a wild roar, and his cold steel plowed into Ser Cain's flesh, where his shoulder joined his neck, stopping at the knight's breastbone.

The blood came rushing out in a hot, black gush - Ser Cain's knees folded slowly, as if for prayer, and when he opened up his mouth, only blood came out.

"NO!" The girl yelled out in a blood curling shriek, and she tumbled forward, trying to get a hold of the knight's bloodied cape.

With his last ounce of strenght, Ser Cain pushed the girl aside and slashed his sword up in the air - but Aemond spun like a turret, and blocked his mindless hack with a teasing smile on his face, discarding his sword to the side.

"I hope your God's a sweet one, Waters bastard." Aemond hummed through his hooded eyes, "For you're going to meet him shortly."

Wincing from the pain that was now licking at his opened flesh, Ser Cain spat over Aemond's boots, while gripping his shoulder to stop the endless rivers of blood, that were being eaten by the dirt.

Unamused, though still smirking, the One Eyed Prince raised his sword in the air, to deliver that one, final cut.

"STOP!" The Lady's voice rang through the tiny cave, grasping Aemond's attention.

Standing tall, she gripped Cain's sword in her own stilled hands, and brought it back to her own stomach.

"If you kill Cain now, I'll run this blade right through my insides!"

As if fallen under a spell, Aemond spat a low curse out, and rested his sword back on his hip. Wordless still, he pushed the knight down with the end of his Achile's heel, but raised his hands up in quiet surrender.

"I mean it!" She sobbed into the open space, her eyes never leaving Aemond's. "We'll see then what kind of support you'll receive from the Riverlords for your usurper kin!"

As if to accentuate her words, she pressed the sword deeper into her scorching heat, applying enough pressure to draw out a little cove of blood.

"Let him go. Let him live, and you can bring me back to Harrenhal, yeah?" The girl asked the Targaryen Prince tentatively.

"Hmm."

So very slowly, Aemond's feet carried him to (Y/N)'s direction. With one hand still raised in the air, he lowered the hilt of Cain's sword, pushing the tip away from her convulsing body.

His lonesome eye trailed low, enough to meet the poke of her clothes, and Viserys' second son let out a disappointed sigh.

His hand reached to cup the girl's jaw, and he gingerly turned it from side to side - inspecting it, just as he'd done when they first clashed wits in her prison cell.

"You've lost weight." He remarked through a furrowed brow.

Suddenly, his hand trailed lower still, all the way down to her neck, which he gripped gently, possessively.

"You are in no position to make demands. Do you think he won't come after you again if I let him live?"

"You all but severed his right hand - he will never fight again." The girl begged him with logic and fact, whilst swallowing thickly, as her heart hammered out of her chest.

"Let him live." Her hand ghosted above his tightening grip, her eyes frantically searching for his. "If you do so, I won't put up a fight ever again."

The final words of her vow caused a pleasant shiver run down Aemond's back. He falthered his grip on her throat, and moved both hands to cage her in between his body and the cold stones.

"Keep your... fucking hands... away from her." Cain hissed from his laying place, trying his hardest to get back up on his feet again.

Aemond's body tensed again, but, before he could move away from (Y/N) and do anything, the girl gripped his cheeks with both hands and brought his eye on her again.

"Stop it, Cain." She preleened through a shaky breath. "It's done."

Aemond's throat rumbled out in a purr of satisfaction, and he harshly grabbed the woman to bring her outside with him.

The monstrous Vhagar awaited them with open wings - and an open jaw -, which made the girl stop on her tracks and plant her feet into the grimy ground.

"I can't get on top of that-!" She uttered pleadingly, shooting Aemond down with a jaded look.

"You will watch your tongue, churl. That is Vhagar. And you will be riding her tonight." He pulled the woman near him and approached his dragon with four swift steps.

'The bond between a dragon and their rider it's a sacred thing.' Jacaerys' voice rang out in her ears.'The dragon always knows what the rider is feeling... Sometimes even better than the man himself.'

"You should be honoured." Aemond disrupted her trail of thought with an assertive remark, "Very few have been introduced to the Queen of the Dragons before."

His touch made her nauseous. Her head was swirling with a hundred unanswered questions, and the way Vhagar looked at them both only stirred her along more.

As Aemond reached for (Y/N)'s hand, the she-dragon let out a disapproving roar.

"Sagon gīda, Vhagar." He hushed gently, as if sharing a sensual secret with an old lover. "Rības issa udra. Umbagon nykeēdrosa."

His rough palm clutched the girl's one tightly, and he jerked her hand forward to touch the dragon's scales.

Restless, Vhagar tried to move away, rejecting the touch of the woman she didn't deem safe for Aemond.

'Dragons have a way of knowing how we all feel. If you wanted me dead now, Vermax wouldn't be so keen to please you.' Jacaerys laughed inside her ear.

But (Y/N) wanted Aemond dead. And of course, Vhagar knew that.

It came to no surprise that she was declining her touch. Still, Aemond persisted.

He moved behind the girl's small frame, and pressed his body against hers so harshly, that she tumbled forward, coming into full contact with Vhagar's scarred belly.

"Gīda, Vhagar." He whispered again, "Dohaeragon issa. Rȳbagon se rības."

Slowly, yet surely, the weary groans of the she-dragon ceased, as Aemond kept reassuring her.

When the Prince felt the bond satisfactory enough, he threw the woman over his shoulder, and began climbing to his dragon's saddle.

(Y/N) let out a disparaging heave, and she had to repeatedly remind herself just how close she was to a dragon's jaws, as to not hit Aemond over the head with all her strenght.

Once they reached the top, Aemond gently lowered her onto the saddle, making fast work on the belts around them.

His hand ghosted between her legs, in a feigned attempt to check the bindings, and the lady shot him a disapproving frown.

Whilst letting out a dangerous chuckle, Aemond shook his head and mounted himself behind her. "Are you ready?" He murmured into her left year.

Not even waiting for an answer, he rose his head and commanded clearly;

"Sōvegon!"

Thoughout the whole ride, the girl kept her eyes closed, despite Aemond's numerous attempts to make her open them.

They reached Harrenhall not even twenty minutes later, and the lady had to stiffle a bitter laugh as she dismounted the glorious beast.

If only her and Cain could have travelled faster; then nothing bad would have ever happened.

Cain...

She turned to glance at the ground, and closed her eyes for a quick prayer.

Though she believed not in the Old Gods or the New, her heart beckoned her to hope for his safety.

She let Aemond carry her back inside, not even paying attention to her surroundings.

He lost a lot of blood, her psyche echoed back to her, But there is a chance he made it out there.

The light click of doors closing grounded her back to her harsh reality. Peeling them from the ground, Lady Tully turned her eyes to the decour of the room, and took a step back once she realised this wasn't her old tower.

"You'll be sleeping with me from now on, My Lady." Aemond's velvety voice fell upon her deafened ears. "We won't have any other shameful accidents - not as long as you're under my protection."

The woman felt as if she could gag at any given moment. If Aemond thought, just for a second, that she'd bed him or become his whore, he'd be unpleasantly surprised.

She'd rather sleep on the floor. Or see herself rot back in the Dungeons.

Almost as if he could read her mind, Aemond let out a low hum.

He came before her, and scooted closer. His hand reached up, resting above her collarbones, and his breath hitched in his throat.

Timidly, his fingers came down to gently carress them, and the One Eyed Prince had to bite back a deep moan.

The contrast between his rough fingertips and her soft skin felt exquisite, and so, so right.

For a second, he thought about the kinds of sounds that might come from her haughty mouth as he slowly entered her. How her face would twist in pleasure, as he gradually, gently, taught her the art of the bedroom.

His lustful thoughts came to an end when he noticed how her face contorted in disgust and displeasure.

Familiar anger flared within him.

She was a whore. A lowly girl who, no doubt, spent every day spreading her legs to his bastard nephiew before, taking him into her sacred depths whenever he so wished to.

So why was she resisting him?

Did she not feel his touch as electrifying as hers was for him?

"Don't be scared. I will not bed you." He uttered near her swollen lips. "I take no pleasure in claiming what's not freely given."

An arrogant smirk tugged at the ends of his upturned lips.

He brought his thumb to brush over her lower lip, toying with it until he forced himself to let it go.

"But it's in a whore's nature to be begging for cock. And you will be pleading for mine before the Spring's end, I can promise you that."

Taglist:

@ohitsthemaster @bellameshipper

Translations:

"Sagon gīda, Vhagar." = Be calm, Vhagar;

"Rības issa udra. Umbagon nykeēdrosa." = Obey my words. Stay still;

"Gīda, Vhagar." = Calm, Vhagar;

"Dohaeragon issa. Rȳbagon se rības." = Serve me. Listen and obey;

"Sōvegon!" = Fly;

[cloudofbutterflies92]

Put your head on my shoulder

And here is the famous Valentine's Day One shot that I promised, taking inspiration from a post by @creativepromptsforwriting (link here). I hope you like it!!(and happy Valentine's day everyone 💕💕)

Chloe Valentine belongs to @chloekistune

Alyssa Price belongs to @alypink

Valerie "Gorgon" Watson belongs to @onehornedbeast

Fei Xing belongs to @kikiharinezumi

Maya "Pip" van Rijn belongs to @justasmolbard

"You better hope I don't burn your kitchen," was Chloe's sentence as she and Johnny were driving Eden home again. She had wanted to stay for a few hours at Chloe's house, more to help the latter paint the Italian's studio.

Johnny had been with Gaz and Gorgon to train some recruits before offering to accompany her with Chloe, leaving the 'opportunity for Gaz to provide a surprise dinner for the Australian; Price, on the other hand, had the weekend off, determined to spend it together with Aly and their little girl in the country.

And Simon? Simon was waiting for her at their home in Manchester recommending that she not come because he had a surprise in store. Eden did not know what but if Chloe had mentioned cooking then surely something had to do with it. Already she was praying to those in charge.

"It makes one smile that in a short time Simon has become so devoted, even if it doesn't beat my record does it Piplup?" Johnny with a cluck of his own tongue and a 'wink embarrassed Chloe.

"What are you saying come on Johnny" the purple-haired girl hid her face between her knees, receiving a kiss on the head from him.

"Chloe made you smarter"

"Yeah sure munchkin" joked the Scotsman with Eden, their insulting each other was a form of brotherly love.

"Home sweet home, be sure to remember to lock the room. I wouldn't want the wind to ruin everything" after the last recommendation Eden got out of the car waving goodbye to the couple.

As she walked down the small avenue, the wind began to brush her hair, a nice thunderstorm would come but it was pleasant that feeling. It reminded her so much of Simon's caresses.

From her cell phone came a notification, it was from Rodolfo. It was lovely that she had found in Maya a person for whom she was beginning to trust after the failed relationships he had had.

"I wanted to give Maya this bouquet of flowers, they remind me a lot of 'Holland."

"Go on this one" Eden reassured him by smiling at the 'image of the bouquet of tulips of different colors, she should have planted some more in their garden too.

"Babe I'm home" Eden walked in and smelled a scent of home, a scent that reminded her of her time in Rome for her studies.From the kitchen was Simon, focused more than ever on preparing a dinner of Italian dishes.

Small appetizers, Coratella coi Carciofi and especially bucatini alla amatriciana accompanied by a glass of Argiano Brunello di Montalcino.

"Don't look at me like that, I asked Chloe for the recipe since it's Italian," he snorted amused, before taking Mr. Orange in his arms

"You have your food, those kibble cost me a kidney because of your mommy who wants you healthy," gave the cat to his girlfriend, who began cuddling him

"Daddy is a bad boy isn't he?" The female had her face licked by the feline, being joined by the blond, remote control in hand that set off some 50s music

"Put your head on my shoulder," the lieutenant began to hum as he grabbed Eden by the hips, the cat as a spectator of that scene between his owners. The brunette closed her eyes, head resting on his shoulder, and hummed the tune.

"...Hold me in your arms, baby" she looked up, her green eyes in that 'cheerful and comforting expression thinking how lucky she was.

"I have to be careful, I wouldn't want Fei to get pissed off later since she sewed this dress," he whispered eagerly, nibbling on the helix.

"That is, if I don't make this shirt first? What do you say?" She nibbled lightly on his lower lip, chapped from the cold.

With a turn he brought her shoulders against his chest, giving her a string of kisses on her collarbone.

"Except we have to eat" he reluctantly broke away, taking both her hands "I'm really holding back" he murmured over the knuckles of her hands making them. How could she resist such gallantry?

"You're such a submissive" with that little resolve Eden hand in hand with him reached the table.

"Always and always my darlin'"

Tag: @chloekistune @graveyard-party666 @alypink @kaitaiga @corvosattano @onehornedbeast @themotherofhorses @alexxmason @carlosoliveiraa @cassietrn @socially-awkward-skeleton @thewanderer-000 @thedeadthree @pvnkesttt @sinclxirx @simonxriley @marivenah @alicedarkmair @strangefable @captastra @aceghosts @kikiharinezumi @katsigian @dickytwister @justasmolbard @captmactavish

Divider by @archonfurina

[jobean12-blog]

You're not much used to dating apps--maybe you're old fashioned, but you'd always preferred meeting in person versus texting over a screen, but your therapist convinces you to give it a try. "Just swipe on a few people and chat. No committment, no problem, right?" Bucky is easy to talk to--he doesn't demand to meet up with you, assail you with unsolicited pictures of his genetalia. No, he seems happy just to chat and get to know you, which is perfect.

Exactly what you need.

😈

Private Eyes

Pairing: Soft!Dark!Bucky x reader

Word Count: 1,500 (Yes, exactly that because I'm insane)

Summary: You're finally going on a date with the hot guy you've been talking to for weeks. You're nervous but excited. He seems genuinely sweet and even a little shy. What could possibly go wrong?

Author's Note: I finally got this done! I'm sorry for how long it too but it's my first ever attempt at soft!dark! Not sure how dark it really went but I will keep working on these type of fics! This is for the lovely @boxofbonesfic Monkey's Paw Challenge and her amazing milestone celebration! Congratulations lovely, you rock! Thank you for hosting and for having me! Hugs and love!💕 Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by my sweet @firefly-graphics thank you lovely🥰 And I was listening to Hall and Oates 'Private Eyes' when I thought of this. I want to thank my love @sgt-seabass for helping me develop this and really get it where it needed to be, as always, I love and thank you for your brain! And thank you to my sweet Ali @maladaptivexxdaydreaming for supporting me the whole way! Love you both!💕

Warnings: fluffy sweetness to start, some tension, thoughts of kidnapping and stalkerish behavior, implied choking (if I missed anything please let me know :) 18+ ONLY PLEASE!!!

Gif NOT MINE: Credit goes to @unearthlydust thanks a bunch sweets🥰

“Ok, so I have the name of the restaurant and you said your phone is fully charged right?”

Your best friend, Rachel, eyes you from the bed, watching as you check your reflection in the mirror and smooth your hands over your hips.

“Yes and yes,” you answer.

“What if he asks you back to his place?” she inquires, raising a brow.

You turn her way, narrowing your eyes. “I haven’t decided yet. I mean we’ve been talking for weeks and we’ve done face time and talked on the phone, all that. I feel like we know each other pretty well. And remember…”

Before you can finish the sentence she chimes in with, “no dick pics!”

“Exactly,” you smile.

“Well, he better be as hot as he looks in the pictures you showed me,” Rachel huffs even as she dramatically fans herself.

“Yea well let’s hope not otherwise saying no to him is going to be hard,” you giggle.

“Are you wearing something sexy under there?” she asks, the corner of her mouth twitching with a grin.

“Maybe…now, I need to leave or I’ll be late,” you say, grabbing your bag.

“DON’T FORGET TO TEXT!” she yells. “I’ll lock up when I leave.”

“Thanks Rach!”

You stand outside the restaurant, happy you’re a few minutes early and have a chance to try and calm the butterflies in your stomach. You’re just reaching to get your phone from your bag when a smooth and familiar voice says, “hey doll.”

When you look up it’s into the same blue eyes you’ve been staring at on video chat and in pictures.

“Hi Bucky,” you say, hoping you don’t sound too breathless. He looks better in person, which you didn’t think was possible.

“You look gorgeous,” he whispers, clearly trying but failing to keep his eyes on yours, his own making a slow perusal from your head to your toes.

He clears his throat, running a nervous hand through his hair. It only makes it look better.

“I have to admit,” he says quietly, now rubbing the back of his head, “I was worried you might not show.”

His feet shift and when his hand drops to his jeans you notice he tries to discreetly wipe his palm along the material.

His nervousness is endearing and you place a reassuring hand on his arm.

“I’ve been looking forward to this,” you explain, “but I get it. I’m nervous too.”

He gives you a grateful smile and reaches for the door, holding it open for you to walk through, his eyes closing as he inhales deeply when you brush past him.

Once you’re seated and you have your drinks the conversation flows easily, any initial anxiety melting away the more time you spend in his company. He’s sweet and a little shy which only makes you like him more.

He keeps the focus on you, asking the right questions but never pushing too far and when you finally switch gears and ask about him, he’s open and honest.

You notice the leather glove covering his left hand and you gently lay your fingers over his.

“You don’t need to wear this for me,” you tell him, smiling sweetly.

He closes his hand around yours and gives it a squeeze.

“Thanks doll face. I appreciate that. I’m just so used to having it on when I’m out in public.”

You nod in understanding.

“Do you want to get dessert?” he asks. “Or…”

“Or?” you repeat, with a smirk.

“You already know how I enjoy cooking and baking,” he starts, continuing after you smile in acknowledgement. “Well, I don’t want to come off as presumptuous but I did bake something especially for you in case you agreed to come hang with me after dinner.”

His lopsided smile and the light tinge of pink dusting his cheeks is all you need to agree to it.

“That sounds really nice. I want to know what you made!” you laugh.

“Nah…surprises are more fun doll.”

He gives you a wink and it sets the butterflies that have finally settled in your stomach all aflutter again.

After paying for the check, he pulls out your chair and presses his hand to your lower back, leading you out of the restaurant and into the chill night air. You subconsciously rub your hands over your arms.

Before you can protest he starts to shrug off his light jacket. He stands in front of you, reaching up to brush his fingers across your shoulder and adjust the fallen strap of your dress before he lays the jacket over you.

You can’t stop the way your body trembles at his touch and when he lingers in your space, his eyes dropping to your lips you can barely get out your breathy “thank you.”

A loud group of people bustle by and effectively snap you both out of the moment, but not before he stares at you for another beat, his gaze heated as his tongue traces his lips.

Your eyes follow the motion and you swallow hard.

“Ready?” he asks as he lets out a breath.

Not trusting yourself to speak you simply nod and smile.

“We can grab a cab to my place. It’s not even a ten-minute ride.”

Helping you out of the cab, he pays the driver and takes your hand.

“I’m on the third floor,” he says as he presses the button for the elevator.

The ride up to his floor is quiet, the side of his body pressed to yours as the tension settling between you increases.

“Something to drink?” he asks, after he drops his keys by the door.

“More wine would be great,” you say as you take in his apartment.

“I have prosecco,” he smiles. “That’s what you like best right?”

You pause and study him. “Did I tell you that?” you ask, trying to recall when you would have mentioned it.

He shrugs with indifference. “I thought I remember you telling me after you had gone out with friends and you text me. You might have been a little tipsy.”

His smile is bright and playful.

The tension that unconsciously tightened your shoulders eases and you giggle. “That sounds about right!”

“Ready to try my special dessert?”

He holds up a plate of chocolate brownies, topped with a fudgy like frosting and sprinkles.

“Wow, those look so good! I love brownies!”

“I know,” he says, clearly proud of himself. “We talk enough about food and we definitely went over favorite desserts.”

In two short strides he’s pressing into your space, holding a brownie up to your lips.

“Wanna give it a try doll face?”

You part your lips and lean forward, biting into the gooey chocolate. Your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks and you let out a low moan.

“Wow Bucky,” you breathe. “So good.”

His thumb reaches up to wipe a crumb from the corner of your mouth and he spreads his fingers across your cheek, pulling you closer.

“I’m glad you’re happy with them,” he murmurs. “I can make them anytime you want.”

Your fingers close around his wrist and you lean into his touch.

“Can I have more?” you ask.

He feeds you another bite, watching your mouth as you savor the sweet treat. His eyes drop to your lips again and you feel yourself leaning forward but your phone dings with a message.

“Shit,” you mutter. “I should check that. Rachel might be worried.”

“It can wait,” he murmurs, brushing his lips along yours.

Your breath hitches and your eyes close, his hands settling at your waist to pull you closer. The kiss is soft at first but when the whimper slips past your lips he parts them with his tongue, the feel of him like a drug.

He walks you backward, his hands wandering over all your exposed skin. It isn’t until your back softly bumps the wall that you pull away, your head dizzy.

You realize you’re in his bedroom…but something is off. You look around, taking it the placement of the furniture and even the furniture itself, the bedspread, the color of the walls, and then your eyes land on something on the bed.

Your body stiffens and your eyes go wide.

“My wolf, my…my,” you gasp. “How did…?”

You try to back away but there’s no where for you to go. He grabs your arms and holds you against him.

“What’s that doll?” he whispers against your ear.

You let out a shuddering breath. “I don’t understand.”  

“You will…in time,” he says, his tone almost excited. “All the comforts of home.”

“Please,” you cry even as your breath hitches at the feel of his metal hand ghosting across your skin.

Your body betrays you and he knows it, the feel of him hard and straining making you clench around nothingness.

“As long as you behave and do as you’re told you’ll be happy and I’ll keep you safe,” he promises as his cold fingers tighten around your neck.

@book-dragon-13 @christywantspizza @dreamlessinparis @goldylions @hiddles-and-skittles @hiddles-rose @jhangelface0523 @loricamebackyetagain @nano--raptor @randomfandompenguin @rebel-stardust @loki-laufeyson-1054 @lookiamtrying @weekendgothgirl @breakablebarnes @seitmai @justile @whippoorwillbarnes @peaches1958

[carolinahope]

I'm not sure I'm that impressed with this episode. Tonally it was a bit all over the place. But there were things I really liked and some I didn't care for at all. But I will give the story time to unfold.

The talks were amazing. (I skipped the one Eddie had with Marisol, I couldn't care less about her) I love mentor Bobby. And how open Buck and Eddie can be with each other. And the little glimpse of Hen and Athena. And of course, the Buckley siblings.

I loved Hen and Karen's story. Denny was such a sweetheart. And I like that they are adopting/fostering an older kid. The little girl did such a good job. And I liked how that one call played into Hen's situation. I missed them doing that. And Maddie with the 911 call. I like seeing them in scenes together. Especially after the rift in S6.

Marisol now more than ever seems like Ana 2: The electric boogaloo. I don't like her and don't care about her and they seem so forced. Though Eddie doubling down seems so in character and like such a coping mechanism? Like falling back on bad habits because he is out of his depth?

And Tommy kinda reminds me of Ali? Because it still feels like Buck is forcing it a tiny bit but not in the hurtful way as with Taylor and Natalia. I will see where it will go but they seem to be really reading from two different books, still. Plus, him calling Buck Evan reminds me of Ana calling Eddie Edmundo. And not in a good way.

But Lou was amazing. He is doing a very good job. But Tommy is still temporary to me.

I liked how supportive Maddie was. I love their talks and Oliver and Jennifer play off of each other so well. But when she said I... I just think that maybe you're not sure of your own feelings yet. It just felt like foreshadowing.

When Bobby said Eddie had no issues with committing to Shannon I kinda called bullshit. Because he did. The person he has no issues committing to is Buck. I mean, the will? I understand why Bobby wouldn't mention him but it was so clear in that conversation. Buck was the pink elephant in the room with them.

Eddie seems a little off this season because so far he is mostly played for laughs? A little bit ridiculous. But his scenes with Buck are *chef's kiss*. I like how open and honest they are with each other. How they are a safe space for the other. But also go to the other for advice and reassurance. Their talks grounded the story a lot. Even with the teasing. Or maybe because of it. I may be just a tad impatient because I want Buddie, now. But on the other hand their love story is a marathon not a sprint. And as James Blunt said, I'm a patient (wo)man, as you discover.

But we got a hug YAY

And I'm sorry, there is nothing heterosexual about them cosplaying Miami Vice.

[flowerandblood]

The White Flame (Part 11)

[modern! rockstar • Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader]

[warnings: fluff, so none?]

[description: Aemond is the bassist of the band whose leader and vocalist is his brother. The whole band decides to use the marketing and design help of their guitarist’s friend. The story is an interweaving of domination, desire and slowly burning feeling.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

It's been weeks, since their band performed at Alys's club. To Aemond's despair, what she saw, set her back on track. She commented on all their photos on social media and shared them on her club's website.

On top of that, to his fury, Bunny complained to him, that she had started following her private account. She wrote cute comments under her pictures, but they both knew, she was just watching, what they were doing and they felt awkward about it.

During one rehearsal, they broached the topic with the band, wondering aloud what to do with it. Aegon stroked his chin, sighing heavily.

“She's quite a bitch, but we get a lot of money from performing at her club. It is one of the largest venues in the city and can accommodate a large audience.” He said hesitantly and they all nodded to him. Bunny lowered her head, and Aemond sighed at this. He put his arm around her and she snuggled into him helplessly.

He knew, how hard it was for her and how she felt threatened - even though he knew, he'd never been in love with Alys the way, he was with her. He even found himself thinking about having a family with her. That if they'd slip-up and Bunny got pregnant, he wouldn't have been angry. Maybe he'd even be happy.

He didn't know how to get out of this situation. He knew this woman was blowing his nose. As they were packing to leave after the last show and getting their things off stage, she approached him and said she would always be waiting for him.

He told her then, that she would never see him come back to her. Then he understood, that she was not reconciled to the fact, that he had dumped her - much less, that he now had someone.

When Bunny timidly hinted to him, that there would be an exhibition of her and her colleagues' works in one of the galleries, and the opening was in a few days, he muttered, that he didn't know, if there wouldn't be a rehearsal then. After that he thought, he should be there.

He decided not to tell her anything and surprise her. He found the address of the gallery on the Internet, got out of rehearsal early and drove there. Indeed, the lights in the gallery were on, there were a lot of people inside.

It reassured him, because he didn't want to draw attention to himself, and his eyepatch always aroused curiosity. He looked around the room and saw her standing in a pretty, pale dress with yellow flowers.

He felt instantly thirsty at the sight of her slender, long legs, her bare shoulders, which he now kissed so often in the mornings, when she stayed overnight at his rented apartment. He didn't even know, when he had let her so deeply into his life and heart.

He pursed his lips, as he saw a boy put his arm around her and whisper something in her ear, laughing. She laughed too, placing a hand on his shoulder, replying quickly. They broke apart but continued to talk intensely. Aemond felt an unpleasant knot in his heart at the sight.

The boy next to her seemed nice and neat, his dark, wavy hair slicked back. He thought, she was looking at him with a fondness and intensity, that frustrated him. He didn't dare approach her.

He saw her suddenly glance around the room and look toward the door, as if she was waiting for someone. When her gaze met his, her eyes lit up in a joyful frenzy, her cheeks flushed red.

She ran to him quickly, and he, touched by the sight, although frustrated, simply extended his hand to her. She snuggled into him, squeezing him tight. She looked at him happily.

"You have come! I thought, you weren't going to be there." She said with a slight regret, while shivering with excitement.

He took a stray strand from her face and tucked it behind her ear. He thought, he wanted to go to the toilet with her and fuck her. Hear her sweet moans, feel her body heat pressing against him so deliciously.

"I wanted to surprise you." He grunted, shoving his hand back into his pocket. Bunny snuggled up to him again, laying her head on his chest.

"I'm so happy." She said dreamily and he stroked her head. He looked up, his eyes met the boy who had talked to her earlier. His lips pressed into a thin line, as the boy raised his glass of champagne in a toast.

"Who is it?" He asked, before he could think. Bunny turned to where he was looking and jumped excitedly.

"Ah, he's my good friend from college. His works are here too! Do you want to see mine?" She asked.

He felt his throat tighten at her words, but nodded. He couldn't believe, how easily he got jealous of her. He knew, that with her character, she could win over any man. When she took his hand, he intertwined their fingers. He needed her tenderness and closeness.

They watched with interest the posters of her and other artists. Most of them had a social theme, touching on various issues. Bunny explained to him, what the various symbols and representations meant, and he listened attentively, curious. The boy she had been talking to earlier, suddenly approached them together with a group of his friends.

“Me, Martha, Monica and Greg are going out to eat to celebrate. Will you and your friend join us?" He asked lightly, Aemond pursed his lips at his words. Bunny blinked at the proposal, not knowing what to do.

"Sorry, I didn't get a chance to introduce my boyfriend to you. This is Aemond, he plays in a rock band for which I design graphics and visual identities.” She said proudly, squeezing his hand, smiling warmly. The boy nodded appreciatively.

"Actually, I could have guessed from the look." He said lightly, Monica laughed in the background at his remark and agreed with him. Bunny frowned, Aemond's face hardened. He thought, he couldn't punch her classmate at her exhibition, but he wanted to.

"It wasn't very nice." Bunny said in a warning, to indicate, that she obviously didn't like what she heard. Her friend shrugged.

“Come on, leather jacket, tattoos, long hair. Typical rock star! And that pirate patch, nice, although you can ruin the eye you're covering that way." He said, as he took a sip of his champagne.

“There is no longer an eye under it to destroy. But thank you for your concern." Aemond replied coldly, and they froze suddenly. There was an awkward silence.

"Oh shit dude, I'm sorry! Really, I was just kidding, I thought it was just your style." He said, there was real embarrassment and fear on his face at what he said.

"I'm really, really, really sorry." He said, now looking at Bunny, who had pursed her lips.

"I won't stop you. I'll pick you up after dinner if you want." Aemond said, kissing her hair.

"See you." He muttered to her friends as he passed them, and they watched him with terrified eyes.

He heard quick footsteps behind him and saw Bunny running after him. He felt relief and satisfaction at the sight, but he didn't have the strength to speak to her.

He thought ruefully, looking at these people, that he did not fit into her world and her friends. He wasn't polite and composed like her, with studies and plans for the future. He thought, that maybe he was wasting her time.

"I'm sorry about him, he's mean and talks nonsense, but he's a really good boy. Come with us, let's eat something, they also ask for it very much." She spoke quickly and pleadingly, but he shook his head.

"I don't feel like it. Don't worry, I'll come pick you up as soon as you let me know." He said, opening the car door, but after a while a boy ran out, the one, that made a remark about his eye. He stood beside Bunny, hands on his hips, panting, as if he was running fast towards them.

"Aemond, right? Dude, I'm really sorry. Jesus, what a shame. Sometimes when I meet someone, I want to be funny and that's how it turns out. All of us really would like to know you better. Give me one more chance." He said quickly, looking at him intensely. Bunny pursed her lips pleadingly. He sighed heavily. He thought, he would do it for her.

"Fine."

***

The six of them were sitting in one of the pubs nearby, drinking beer. The boy who was apologizing to him was named Bruno, and he was really trying to make up for the first bad impression.

It was a bit awkward at first, so they talked about the exhibition itself and the affairs of their college. Then one of the girls timidly asked him, what their rehearsals were like and whether they practiced often.

"Four times a week." He answered briefly. Once the topic was out, more questions poured in, this time from Bruno.

"You manage to make good money from this? Do you play in many clubs?” He asked intrigued.

Aemond took a sip of his beer and set it down on the table.

“It was hard at first. We played more for ourselves, we shared some things on the internet. My brother sent our recordings to various people and the first proposals began. We play almost every weekend now. So far, we're making a living out of it." He said calmly.

Bunny's friend Monica rolled over on the spot.

"Do you want to play guitar for the rest of your life?" She asked, obviously unsure, if she should ask the question.

Aemond looked at Bunny, who was watching him intensely. He swallowed loudly, feeling, that everyone was looking at him silently, curious.

"I don't know. I've been thinking about going back to college." He said, toying with his bottle in his hand. Bunny shot him a surprised look, that didn't escape his notice.

"That's interesting. What studies are you thinking of?" Asked Greg, who hadn't said a word so far. Aemond pursed his lips.

“Not very profitable. History." He said, taking a deep gulp of his beer. The people at the table exchanged surprised glances. Bruno stared at him in disbelief.

"History? Wow! I wouldn't associate it with you. Is it your passion?” He asked.

It seemed to him, looking at these people, that they were really interested in what he was saying. He felt awkward at the thought of telling stories, he hadn't even told his own siblings. Bunny had heard about it for the first time too.

"Well, I've always been interested in that. The band was my brother's dream, not mine. I don't really know, what I would like to do in the future." He said calmly.

He shivered, as he felt Bunny's hand on his knee, massaging it lightly. He felt hot in his heart and in his pants at the same time. Martha nodded.

“I don't know, what I want to do after art history either. But really, it depends on me and I think, that you can't give up your passions for fear, that you won't know, what will happen next. Life works itself out sometimes.” She said with a shrug.

Others agreed with her, starting to talk about why they decided to study arts. Aemond felt himself slowly begin to relax. He thought, that these people weren't as bad and distant from him as he thought. When Bunny put her head on his shoulder, he kissed her hair involuntarily.

"I didn't know you wanted to study." She whispered softly, looking at him with a warmth, that always softened his heart. He thought, that even with the pleasant atmosphere, he would have to take her away soon, because she couldn't handle the pressure in his pants.

"I didn't know it either, until I said it out loud. Until I met you."

______

Thank you for your patience for waiting so long for the new chapter. I had to think about which way I wanted the whole story to go, which would be unforced and consistent with the whole. I plan to write 2 more chapters and end the series with that. 💖

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @avgdusterfan @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @random-ocity @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @snh96 @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1

Others: @astral-blossoms @echos-muses @wintrr13 @writingaboutlove1998 @lauftivy @mandiiblanche

[ali-r3n]

Dad!Eddie Munson x Reader

On a road-trip with his Uncle and pregnant girlfriend, Eddie experiences his first hurricane when the unexpected happens…

(Not Graphic) Labor, Fluff, Pregnancy, Hurricanes

Wind howled outside as the Munson’s hunkered in their boarded up motel room.

Y/N curled against Eddie’s side on one of the beds, the beat of his steady heart keeping her calm. He rubbed her large bump with a ringed hand.

On the other bed, Wayne sat as he listened to the radio.

Y/N grimaced when her stomach cramped and a small gasp escaped her mouth. Eddie looked down at her.

“You okay, Sweetheart?”

She closed her eyes and nodded.

“Yeah. Just a Braxton Hicks contraction.”

“You sure it’s not a real one?” Wayne asked. His brow furrowed in confusion.

She shook her head. “I’m sure.”

The older man didn’t look convinced. “Okay, well if that changes, you let us know.”

“I will.” Please don’t let it be a real contraction.

Her unspoken prayer was not answered…

She was in labor.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Eddie cursed, his eyes as wide as saucers. All the color drained from his face.

“Worse. Timing. Ever!”

Thank God for Wayne Munson. He was the only calm one in this situation. He nudged his nephew towards the bathroom to grab some towels before he propped Y/N up with some pillows behind her back.

Tears fell down her cheeks and he wiped them away.

“Everything is going to be okay, Y/N,” he reassured.

Sweat beaded on her Y/S/C skin. A combination of the pain of labor and the result of the AC being knocked out with the rest of the power.

“This hurts so fucking bad!” She cried.

Wayne wiped her forehead down with a hand towel.

“It’ll be over soon.”

He looked over his shoulder at Eddie who paced back and forth, anxiously.

“Boy, sit down before you ware a whole in the floor.”

Eddie took a seat by his uncle and reached a shaky hand towards his girlfriend. He gave her a nervous smile.

“H-hey, Sweetheart. This is really happening right now…” he swallowed. “During a hurricane. Kind of metal, isn’t it?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Only your child would choose the worst possible timing to come into this world.”

“Shit, ow!” He winced when her grip tightened on his hand during another contraction. “Got quite the hold there, Sweetheart. You think you could loosen your grip a li-“

“SHUT UP EDDIE! YOU DID THIS TO ME!”

He jumped as Wayne covered his smile and snickered.

“I-I’m…I’m so sorry, Sweetheart.”

Y/N sniffled and turned her head to face Eddie.

“I didn’t mean to yell at you, Ed. I’m sorry.”

Eddie ran his thumb over her knuckles to soothe her.

“It’s okay, Sweetheart. I understand. You’re in a lot of pain right know.”

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I love you so much. You can do this.” 

“I love you too.” 

It felt like years, but was only a few hours… A baby girl wailed in Wayne’s arms as the young couple cried. 

Eddie rested his head against Y/N.  "I knew you could do it, Sweetheart."

Wayne wrapped the newborn in a towel before he placed her on Y/N's chest.

"Congratulations, Mama. She's beautiful."

Eddie cradled the back of his daughter's head. "She is. Isn't she?" He sniffled.

Y/N smiled at her baby. "Hey, Honey. Welcome to the world," she said, softly.

"What's her name?" Wayne asked.

"We could always name her after the hurricane," Eddie stated with a small grin.

"Please tell me you are joking?"

"Only like...a tiny bit."

"I hope she's as weird as you, Ed."

"Kinda hard to do," Wayne said as he nudged Eddie's shoulder.

"I love you both too."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note: I wrote this in the middle of a hurricane! Might be my last post for awhile. It depends on how long it takes for the power to come back on. I will let you know as soon as i can! Love all of you! Thank you for reading and supporting me!

<3 ali

Eddie Munson Taglist:

@seros-bitch @eddiemunsons-girl @m-i-1-0 @lunar-flwr @winchester-angel @angelbbygrl @madnessismylover @cherrybean1116 @edwardjamesmunson @3ternalreal1ty

@meaganjm @sweetpeapod @eddiemunsonsfavbitch @fangirling-4-ever @zzokks @mattymurdocksbitch @fillechatoyante @luvbug4728 @doll-in-the-walls @ches-86 @shenevertricks1831 @urlocalhippie2029 @celestair @ruinedbythehobbit @purple-storm

@sarai-ibn-la-ahad @livslifeonline

Stranger Things Taglist:

@valeriiecameron @maruushkka @rainbows-dreams @april-foolish

Stranger Things (Billy excluded) Taglist;

@sleepyhead1456

[maidragoste]

Antidote

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader (Daughter of Rhaenyra) x Aegon II Targaryen

Masterlist Serie

Part 7

sorry for taking so long to update, I hope the wait was worth it and you like this chapter

Thank you for all the messages and comments, they mean a lot to me. I'm sorry I haven't been answering but tumblr wouldn't let me, luckily the problem has been solved.

thank you very much for all the support

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

You were still alive. But for how long? You were in and out all the time in a state of unconsciousness. Your temperature wouldn't drop no matter how many cold washcloths Alicent and the maesters put on your forehead. The nerves in the room increased every time you whispered the names of your dead brothers or called your mother. Alicent wanted to believe you were just hallucinating but the maesters thought your family was calling you to join them in death. The truth is that the maesters were not helpful, they could not detect what kind of poison you get poisoned with so they were only taking care of trying to lower your fever and wait for your death, the only maestre who seemed not to have given up on you was the same one who had helped you give birth to your children. The old man along with Egg—your little brother refused to see how another member of his family died—and Tyland Lannister —the man knew that with you dead there would be no peace and surely the northerners would attack King's Landing to avenge your death so he needed you alive—they were searching like crazy in old books for some kind of solution.

"You're not really thinking of giving her that," Aemond said angrily, coming in after his brother.

Everyone could feel the tension in the castle. Your dragon's wailing was not helping to reassure people. In addition, Baelon and Aemon could be heard crying non-stop as if they could feel that something had happened to their mother or perhaps they were distressed by the screams of the servant, the one who had given you the wine, being tortured. They had been able to locate the servant thanks to one of Larys Strong's spies.

As soon as they handed over the young man, neither of your husbands wasted time and began torturing him to get any kind of information from him. It didn't take long because the servant snapped when Aemond broke his leg. He confessed that he did not know what the antidote was or the type of poison, that he had only followed Borros Baratheon's orders in exchange for a bag of gold dragons.

Both the king and the prince wanted to continue torturing the bastard but they couldn't waste time on that, they needed to get the antidote to keep you alive, so Aegon ordered the guards to continue the torture but not to kill him.

Borros Baratheon took the longest, complaining with every blow and cut the Targaryen brothers gave him but only confessed to the crime after Aegon threatened to cut off his cock. The Lord of Storm's End believed that Aegon would marry one of his daughters since at the beginning of the war they had arranged a betrothal with Daeron Targaryen but now that he was dead he thought that the king would take his brother's place so he put on furious when the news of your nuptials reached him. He was outraged that Aegon decided to marry you instead of one of his daughters after his house had fought on the side of the greens in the war.

Lord Baratheon thought that if you died the king would again look for another wife to give him an heir. The worst thing is that the idiot didn't know what poison he poisoned you with, the only thing he said is that he got the poison through a witch. And what a great coincidence that a raven from Alys Rivers arrived with the antidote. Aegon didn't even hesitate, as soon as his brother told him that this was the antidote, he took the vial and went to your chambers.

“What's going on?” Alicent asked, she had been left alone looking after you after she'd thrown the maesters out because she heard one whisper that she sensed the Stranger in the room.

"We are running out of time and it is the only solution we have" The king replied to the prince, ignoring his mother "Don't you trust your lover?"

"That witch is not my lover!" The prince denied, holding back so as not to hit his brother. "I don't trust that witch, why would I do it? She bewitched me into her bed "he tried to ignore the nausea he felt at the memory"Aegon, thinks a little. Alys Rivers has no reason to give us the antidote "he pronounced the name in disgust" I'm sure it's some potion to worsen my wife's condition "

"If so, why would she sign the letter?" replied his brother leaving him speechless. He was right. It didn't make sense that the witch would sign her name to let everyone know that she murdered the queen. Still, he didn't trust her, he didn't forget that Borros Baratheon had said that he got the poison from a witch.

"You should give her the antidote," Alicent said to her firstborn, surprising him by siding with her in this argument. Besides that Alicent was a religious person so it was strange that she also decided to trust the witch's antidote "I don't think it's another poison or something worse" she said now looking at her second son, who still looked reluctant "How did you find out her about this?"

"The witch said that she saw it in the flames" replied the prince.

"Nonsense" Alicent snorted feeling only hatred for the woman. That witch had hurt her son, she believed Aemond's story, she had seen with her own eyes how in love he is with you, how he loves you so she knew he would never cheat on you. That damned woman almost ruined her son's happiness and now she was doing it again. Now it wasn't just you and Aemond who were suffering, when you passed out Alicent thought Aegon looked like he was about to collapse until she saw the fire in his eyes and started barking orders non-stop. "Surely she put all this together to make herself the savior and get some favor, maybe she thinks that saving the queen will get her a place at court"

Aemond was silent considering his mother's words. She was probably right. In the last few weeks, she had gotten more than one raven from the witch asking when he was going to fetch her so she and her bastard could join the court. He burned every one of the letters and pretended they didn't exist. That had been a mistake. As soon as the first letter arrived he should have gone to Harrenhal and killed them but he hadn't wanted to leave King's Landing again, he hadn't wanted to leave you alone again.

“Then we will deal with the witch. She will not go unpunished,” Aegon promised his brother before turning all his attention to you. He started calling out to you as he gently shook you, hoping you would wake up.

"Father?" you said without opening your eyes. Aegon felt a hole in his heart, but he didn't bother to correct you instead he helped you drink the concoction.

"You'll be fine," he whispered to you, stroking your hair tenderly, as you drifted back to sleep.

Alicent ended up leaving the room, although the truth is that she didn't want to leave your side but she trusted that her children would take good care of you, just because Aemond asked her to take care of the children. Now not only the cries of the babies could be heard, but also that of Jaehaera.

In the following hours, the brothers stayed with you. They took care of cleaning you and changing your sweaty clothes for clean ones. Then they each settled next to you and took your hand. Then the eldest of the brothers took advantage of the fact that they were alone to talk about the topic that made him so curious.

"Alys Rivers," the king noticed how his brother tensed just hearing the woman's name. He had also noticed how pale he had turned when they received the witch's raven and the disgust with which he spoke of her "She is not your lover"

"I already told you" the prince replied curtly.

“I'm just saying that I believe you. You didn't want to sleep with that witch, she forced you"

When the news came in the middle of the war that Aemond had a lover and had gotten her pregnant, Aegon couldn't believe it. It made no sense to him how his correct brother could have fathered a bastard, let alone how he could hurt you like that.

Now he knew the truth thanks to Aemond. If he were another man, Aegon wouldn't have believed the story that he was put under a witch's spell and that's why he was unfaithful to his wife. But it was Aemond, and he could see his discomfort and anger every time they spoke of Alys Rivers. He even came to realize the fear of him. That's why he believed him because his brother was good at putting on a mask and hiding his feelings. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen his brother scared.

"She knows?"Aegon asked, referring to you.

"She doesn't believe me" the prince admitted. Maybe he told him because he was tired and wasn't thinking. Or maybe just because it felt good to know that someone else believed him.

"You should tell him again about what happened to you with that witch. I'm sure he'll listen to you now, probably before the pain was very recent and he didn't want to know anything about your stay in Harrenhal"

Surprisingly, Aemond felt calm upon hearing his brother's words. Before he could answer you woke up coughing. Aegon wasted no time helping you sit down while Aemond poured you water.

“Thank you,” you said once you finished drinking everything “Are the kids okay? Egg? Jaehaera? Everyone is fine?"

Neither of your husbands was surprised that this is your first concern. They instantly reassured you that neither had been poisoned, that the kids had only been scared but were now in Alicent's care.

“Good” you sighed “I will definitely go down in history, the first day of my reign and I almost died. Oh gods, I already imagine people saying that it is a bad omen and I will bring misfortune to the kingdom” you frowned imagining all the muttering of the people. You would have to work hard to make people not give so much importance to the assassination attempt you suffered.

Neither you nor Aemond expected your words to bring Aegon to tears.

"I don't care what people say, we almost lost you," he said, throwing himself into a hug. You let Aegon cry into your chest. You felt sad to see him so distraught, you tried to reassure him by patting him on the back and reminding him that you were fine now.

"Come, come" you opened your arms and Aegon settled back to make room for Aemond. He hesitated for a moment, actually, he wanted to be alone with you but he knew that his brother was not going to leave your side, before joining the two of you.

Aemond watched the scene feeling uncomfortable, not knowing what to do, it's not like it was the first time he'd seen Aegon cry but he'd never seen him so broken. Now he was more than clear that his brother's feelings for you were not a whim but were real.

The prince also felt jealous because he also wanted to be in your arms, he was your husband first. You should be calming him down. He wasn't crying but that didn't mean he wasn't just as scared or worse than Aegon. Every minute you were unconscious was hell for Aemond. Not even when he fought in the Gods Eye was he as afraid as in those hours. He was so afraid that you won't wake up, so afraid of losing you. He had no idea what to do without you. He couldn't imagine a world without you.

"You should sleep. I'm sure you haven't slept for hours. Now you can rest, I'm fine and I promise to be with you when you wake up" you kissed both of their foreheads and the brothers felt warmth return to their bodies.

"Can you sing?" Aegon asked. At another time Aemond would have thought his brother was childish but this time he didn't find it annoying. What's more, he was grateful. He also wanted to hear your voice, he needed it, after spending hours without listening to you.

"Sure" you accepted before starting to sing, Aemond smiled as he recognized the song, it was the first song you two had danced together.

It didn't take long for your husbands to fall asleep. They were exhausted and after so much stress your presence, your warmth, and your sweet voice were a balm for them.

tag list: @hannaeditzs @multi-fandoms-stuff @zverea @m1tzifa1ry

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[woso-fan13]

NO. 9 THE VERY NOISY NIGHT

Sleeping in Shifts

You hadn’t been feeling well all day, but after dinner was when things took a sharp turn. After a nasty case of strep, you had been set up with antibiotics to hopefully knock it out of your system. Instead, you suddenly spiked a fever that left the whole team worried. The staff suggested that they send you to the hospital, they argued that someone needed to watch you: you couldn’t be trusted to wake yourself up, check your temperature, and get yourself to the hospital if it got too high. Your teammates very quickly shut that idea down. This left them with a schedule to spend the night with you. The players would be in pairs and each pair would spend 2 hours with you. They would take your temperature every 30 minutes and record it. If it got too high, the captains would bring you to the ER. Not everyone got to go tonight, but they were certain that they would all get a few chances in the nights to come. 

The first pair was Ash and Ali. At 10, they settled in right away on either side of you, they cared more about making you feel better than about keeping themselves healthy, besides the penicillin was probably on board long enough to kill the step. You curled into Ali’s side, resting your heavy head on her chest. Your arm was draped across her stomach and was latching on to her hand on the other side of her body. Ash was laying behind you, her front pressing into your back. She had a warm hand on her stomach that she used to gently rub circles. You quickly fell asleep, the fever and busy day taking a toll on you. The two talk quietly over you, pausing occasionally to take your temperature. They listened to your breathing closely, monitoring for any distress. 

Just before midnight, the door creaks open. Mal’s head pops in, closely followed by Rose. After a quick report from the others, they take up their guard. The two settle on the opposite bed, alternating between talking and playing on their phones. The first hour and a half went smoothly, your temperature was still high, but not high enough for the hospital. Around 1:45, Mal and Rose stopped what they were doing as they heard shuffling coming from your bed. By the time they looked over, you had your feet on the ground and were attempting to walk. The two quickly rush over to you, meeting you only 4 steps from your bed. Mal wraps you in her arms as Rose starts questioning you: where are you going, what do you need? When your only response is to start sobbing as you become dead weight in Mal’s arms, they know something must be wrong. As Mal lowers you to the floor and pulls you into her body, Rose quickly grabs the thermometer. Just under 104F, they become somewhat concerned. Rose grabs a cool cloth from the bathroom, easily overpowering you when you try to fight it and shushing you and humming gently when you finally give up on fighting and are reduced to whimpers. She drags the cloth over your face, neck, arms, back, wherever she can find bare skin. 

At 2am exactly, a soft knock on the door is heard just before it opens. Lindsey and Emily are taking the next shift. When they walk in the room, everyone looks overwhelmed and close to tears. Without communicating, they get to work. Emily grabs you off of Mal, reassuring you when you jump at the new presence. She walks you out to the balcony, taking a seat on the outdoor sofa and putting her legs across it. She settles you on top of her, your head just below her chin. The door opens a minute later, Lindsey rejoining the group after reassuring the others and sending them to bed. She hands a drink bottle to Emily, who slips the straw into your mouth and encourages you to sip at it. A cool liquid soothes your throat, sore from illness and crying. Lindsey quickly slips medication into your mouth, the drink following shortly after. You feel a fuzzy blanket covering you. This must be one of theirs, it is much too nice to be a hotel blanket, besides the fact that it smells like them. Lindsey settles in the chair on the balcony, throwing a blanket over her legs as well. Emily’s hand comes up to rub soothing circles on your back, lulling you. You fall asleep to the two quietly talking above you and the quiet sounds of the city below. 

Kelley and Alex are set to take the next shift, but they worry when they walk into an empty room at 4. After a brief panic and a frantic search of the room, they see the makeshift group on the balcony. Sliding the door open slowly, they work their way over to the group. Kelley pats Emily’s head before stealing you out of her arms. Alex stays to get the rundown of the previous events of the evening while Kelley takes you back inside to a bed. When she enters the room, she sees Kelley in her full mother-hen glory. She is pulling your limbs from your sweat soaked pajamas and stuffing them into clean pajamas (and yes, maybe the shirt is Alex’s and the pants are Kelley’s, but that must be a coincidence.) After you are settled in new clothes, Kelley looks to Alex for help maneuvering you under the covers properly. The two get you comfortable in the bed before Kelley runs off to the bathroom. Retiring a minute later, she puts a damp cloth on your forehead. Pleased with their handiwork, the two assume a position very similar to the one Ash and Ali were in earlier. They watch you sleep, your face relaxed except for the wrinkle between your eyes and the rosy circles on your cheeks. 

At 6, the Mewis sisters are on for the final shift of the night. They look refreshed- showered and dressed, coffee cups in hand. They quickly switch with Alex and Kelley, a delicate dance of replacing Kelley’s chest with Kristie’s lap. After the older players leave, the Mewis sisters turn on a movie quietly. Kristie keeps one hand wrapped around her coffee cup, but the other is smoothing through your hair to try and keep you asleep. Towards the end of the movie you become restless, causing the sisters to try to keep you from waking up. Their attempts are futile, as your eyes slowly blink open. They were still sleepy, groggy as you tried to piece together the night before. The two chuckle at your confused face, pulling you to sit up between them and watch the movie. You pull your blanket up and try to keep your eyes open, but they are closed before the final credits. They let you sleep, knowing that you need the rest. 

Nobody had slept well that night, but that was okay. The next few nights would likely be similar, but the team would soon be back to a normal schedule. And when your fever broke one afternoon, everyone said a silent prayer. Everyone passed out in bed that night, sleeping so deeply that they didn’t even dream. The coaches had to cancel early morning practice the next day when none of the players showed up, all still fast asleep.